#weird genetic sperm count | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ebdaydreamer · 1 year

Text

i hope that you catch me ('cause i'm already falling)

9-1-1 - buddie - rated t - 7k words

TW: references to passive suicial ideation and generally self-destructive behaviour

Buck agrees to be a sperm donor, and he's absolutely perfect on paper. He's feeling good about helping an old friend grow his family. But the first pregnancy test comes back negative. And the next, and the next. Over and over, Buck gets a text from Connor telling him that it's failed - that he's failed them. And Buck? Well, Buck spirals.

[AO3]

Quite frankly, Buck has learnt far too much about his own sperm since agreeing to donate it. As much as he enjoys a good research binge, the amount of information he now has about his own sperm is excessive. Sure, he researched things he could do before donating that would keep his sperm count healthy, but knowing general facts about good reproductive health was different than having exact details on his sperm. For example, he knows how many millions of sperm he had per millilitre of ejaculate, and an estimate of how much sperm there was per ejaculation which… was something he didn’t necessarily want to know about himself. He also knows that about 7% of his sperm was normal, which is higher than average, apparently.

Basically, he’s good. His sperm is good.

Honestly, once he makes his… donation, he expects that to be it. Perhaps he’ll get a couple of update texts, possibly a few more questions about his genetics that they’d forgotten to ask already. And at first, that is true.

Connor: going in for the first treatment today! i’ll never be able to thank you enough man

And… it’s a little weird, knowing that his biological child could technically be conceived that day. But, no, he can't think like that - he needs to detach himself.

Buck: good luck!

He feels good about his decision. Connor and Kameron are good people, and they’ll be amazing parents. They deserve this, and Buck is glad he can help them. Helping people is what he does.

He doesn’t know how to feel when two weeks later he gets another text.

Connor: negative. gonna try again next time. drs said this can take a few goes

A large part of him feels horrible: he feels sorry that they still had to wait for their dreams to come true; he feels a little guilty that it hadn’t worked. But that’s normal. Babies take time. Neither he nor Kameron have any issues. No need for him to feel guilty.

He was ignoring the very small part of him that was relieved.

“You’re quiet this evening,” Eddie notes. “That’s never a good thing.”

Buck squints at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means that you’re thinking,” Eddie quips, “which is always terrifying.”

Like the mature adult he is, Buck takes one of Eddie’s pillows and hits him with it. It is absolutely worth it, as Eddie's face breaks out into the most beautiful smile, and Buck feels a warm, pounding sensation in his chest. He knows only a few months ago that smile would have been reserved for Christopher, but now Eddie is much more open, allowing himself to feel joy more freely. Which meant Buck got to see more of that illuminating smile.

“C’mon, seriously,” his eyes go serious, but his lips still hold traces of the smile, “what’s up? I know you didn’t come over just to watch crap movies with me.”

“We watch crap movies together all the time,” Buck protests, knowing he was doing nothing but stalling the inevitable.

Eddie cocks his head to the side, letting Buck know he hadn’t bought it for a second. “But that’s not why you’re here tonight. So,” he knocks their legs together, “spill.”

“What if I just came here to distract myself?”

“If you just wanted a distraction you wouldn’t have come to me. You would’ve invited as many people as possible for a night out.”

Buck sighs. Sometimes having someone know you so well can be really annoying. “Connor text me today. They had a negative test.”

“And that makes you feel…” He trails off.

Buck snorts, “Alright, Frank.”

“Well, I can’t talk to you about it if you don’t tell me how you’re feeling,” he says like it’s so damn simple.

As much as Buck loves Eddie-in-therapy, it could be really inconvenient for him at times.

“Well, I feel bad for them, y’know?” Buck shrugs. “Their wait still isn’t over. They have to keep going through it.”

Eddie shuffles closer, and Buck can feel the heat coming off his body, and can hear his breathing. “So that's what brought you to my house on a work night looking like a kicked puppy? You feel bad for them?”

“Yeah,” Buck says, in a pitch that is entirely too high to be believable.

Eddie knocks their legs together again, and Buck is tempted to throw his leg over Eddie’s to keep them pressed together.

“I know you’ve got one of the biggest hearts out there, Buck, but something tells me that’s not all it is.”

Fuck it, time to throw in the towel, therapy-Eddie wins. “Urgh, fine, I guess I feel a little bit guilty,” he groans. “Which, I know is stupid, because medically I’m fine, it’s just one of those things.” He puts his head in his hands. “I just… they’ve been waiting so long, and I was supposed to help, which I still will, I just…”

Eddie shuffles towards him again, and Buck thinks if he gets any closer his brain will shut down and he won’t be able to talk about this.

Actually, that might not be so bad.

“Buck,” Eddie says, so softly that Buck drops his hands from his face, just because he wants to see what facial expression paired with such a gorgeously delicate tone.

Beautiful, just like Buck feared.

“I think…” Buck begins, emboldened by the openness in Eddie's eyes, “I think a part of me just wants it to be over already.”

Then Eddie puts his hand on Buck’s shoulder, and yup- his brain is officially offline.

Just as Buck is beginning to think he’ll melt into a pile of goo on the couch, Eddie whispers, “It’s not too late you know?”

His brain is far too focused on the thumb that’s gently tracing the neckline of his t-shirt to hear Eddie’s words. “Hmm?”

“You can call them, tell them you’ve changed your mind, I’m sure they’ll understand.”

Buck shakes his head, and it pushes Eddie’s hand closer to Buck’s neck, half touching skin, and it feels electric. “No, no, I don’t want that.” He selfishly leans further into Eddie’s steadying touch that makes it feel like he can do anything. “I- I just want this awful… uncertain part to be over. I’m sure it’s worse for them.”

Eddie’s looking at him like he still doesn’t quite believe him.

Honestly, Buck isn't sure if he does either.

He gets the same text the next month. And the month after that. And the month after that.

Every time, it feels like he’s being punched in the gut, and his hands start to shake with the overwhelming but cruelly familiar feeling of not being enough. Hidden beneath his heartbeat is a voice whispering “Failed. Failed. Failed.”

After every text, Buck longs to drive over to Eddie’s, knows he’ll be welcomed without question, into a safe haven that feels too much like home. But he can’t bring himself to go. He knows that if he goes, Eddie’s silent support will come with an openness and vulnerability that will make Buck want to spill his heart out to him. He can’t do that. Not because he doesn’t trust Eddie, but because he’s afraid. Afraid of what he’ll say. Afraid that Eddie will talk him into backing out. Afraid he’ll want to.

Then, a new, even more damning text from Connor: gonna try ivf next, better success rate and all, i’ll keep you posted

And that had him driving to Eddie’s at 7:13 am on a Wednesday.

All he can hear on the drive over is his heartbeat loud in his ears, the little voice now screaming.

Failed. Failed. Failed. Failed. Failed.

He unlocks the door with his key and finds Eddie at the kitchen sink. The two men stare at each other a moment until Buck hears one of his favourite sounds in the world clicking down the hall.

“Buck! What’re you doing here?”

Eddie is still looking at him, his eyes asking the same question. Buck plasters on his best smile and turns to Chris to pull him into a hug. If he holds on a little too tight that’s between the two of them.

Eddie answers Chris’ question for him, “Buck’s gonna drop you off with me then we’re gonna hang out before work tonight.”

Buck leaps at the wonderful distraction that is Christopher Diaz. He gets to listen to Chris’ anecdotes as he drives, thoroughly enthralled despite the pre-teen sass that is entering his tone.

But then Chris’ dominating presence is gone, and he and Eddie are back at the Diaz house. Buck hasn’t even had the chance to sit down before Eddie asks, “So, what’s up?”

Buck throws himself down on the couch. He looks up at the ceiling as he says, “Connor texted this morning. Another negative test. They’re gonna try IVF next.”

Eddie hums in acknowledgement and sits next to Buck on the couch. Unlike after the first negative test, he starts close to him, sides pressing against each other.

As his brain works overtime, trying to figure out exactly what he’s feeling, one thought remains constant, sticking out like a shining beacon amongst all the shit: ‘I’m so grateful for him’.

“It… it should be over soon, right? I- I mean, this should work?” He falls forwards until his head is practically in his lap. It doesn’t quite get there, though, because Eddie’s hand is on his back. He’s always got his back. “It has to work.”

“Buck,” Eddie whispers, so quiet that Buck can barely hear it, “you know if it works it won’t be the end, right? There’s the pregnancy and-”

“Walking away, I know,” Buck sighs and decides to lean back into Eddie’s touch, to take the support he’s offering. “I guess… I just…”

Eddie starts drawing small circles on his back and Buck thinks, ‘I could walk away, if I was walking towards you, if we could just do this forever’.

“I know, I know, I shouldn’t, but every time I get that damn text I…” Buck trails off, ready to swallow his words, afraid to admit how he feels even to himself, but then he looks at Eddie.

And Eddie is so beautiful, with his open expression, his fond yet slightly concerned gaze - not in a way that makes him feel small and patronised, but makes him feel safe - and his arms there to catch Buck if he falls. He’s unguarded and vulnerable. It makes Buck feel brave.

“I still feel guilty.”

Buck falls.

“I feel like a failure.”

Eddie catches him.

“Never.”

His face buried into his shoulder. His warm hand on his neck.

“I promise.”

Three embryos.

Three chances.

Connor: If all goes well we can use one of the other two for the next kid

The next kid.

Multiple kids.

This time Buck doesn’t hesitate. He runs to Eddie who’s waiting with cheap beer, Netflix reality TV they’re both secretly addicted to, and an empty spot on the couch.

Buck somehow curls his long limbs up into a ball next to Eddie, head resting on his shoulder. They’re a few episodes into the trivial dating show when Eddie finally speaks for the first time since Buck told him what brought him to his doorstep.

“Buck, I really don’t think this is healthy.”

Buck shakes his head as much as he can without lifting it from Eddie’s shoulder. “I’ll be fine, it’s just… a weird feeling, I guess. I’ll get over it when…”

“When, what, Buck?” Eddie asks. Buck can hear the exasperation in his tone, but there’s an edge of delicacy to it that makes Buck want to cry. “When Kameron gets pregnant? When the baby is born? When they decide to have another?”

“I don’t know, Eddie!”

Eddie sighs, and it ripples through Buck. “It’s still not too late.”

“It is,” says Buck. “They’ve already gone through the IVF prep, they’ve paid the money, the embryos exist. There’s only one step left. I can’t-” Buck chokes back a small whimper, “I can’t back out now, n-not after they’ve gone through all that.”

Eddie’s quiet for a moment, and Buck wonders if he understands now, or maybe he’s just given up arguing with him.

“It hurts, you know?” Eddie finally whispers.

Buck furrows his brow and looks up at Eddie, whose gaze is firmly on his lap. “What does?”

“Seeing you sacrifice your own happiness for the sake of others.”

Buck swallows. The knowledge that he’s been hurting Eddie breaks his heart a little more (not that there’s much left that isn’t broken - just like the rest of him). “I’m sorry.”

Eddie sits up, forcing Buck from his hiding spot. On instinct, he looks at Eddie, even though his brain is screaming at him ‘No! Danger! Vulnerable! Burden!’

“I don’t want you to be sorry, Buck,” Eddie says, wetly. “I want you to see.”

“See what?” Buck asks, not even able to muster enough energy to be confused by the comment.

Eddie’s eyes flash with something Buck can’t name, but he can see his thoughts racing behind his eyes. Perhaps he’s thinking about how to word what he wants to say, sacred that he might set him off.

Buck doesn’t blame him.

Instead, Eddie says something completely unrelated, “Promise me you’ll go back to therapy?”

And Buck, unable to deny Eddie anything, agrees.

The first embryo doesn’t take.

The updates from Connor have been getting shorter and shorter, this one simply reading ‘negative’. Buck sympathises. He can’t imagine how exhausted they must be, especially now they’ve switched to IVF.

He keeps forcing himself to remember that this is not his fault, not anyone’s fault. IVF is still only a 32% chance. All three embryos together give them almost a 100% chance. It’s just one of those things that take time. There is nothing wrong with Kameron. There is nothing wrong with him. He is perfect on paper.

He was perfect on paper for Daniel too.

At that ugly thought, Buck jumps up from the chair and away from his phone like it stung him. Hen and Chim give him an odd look, before shaking their heads and returning to whatever it was they were doing.

Buck forces himself to breathe. The thought terrifies him, because, truthfully, he’s been pushing it away for months. Now he’s acknowledged it, he’s not sure what havoc it’ll wreak on his psyche. He tries to focus on his breathing instead. They’re off shift in less than half an hour, he can’t afford to freak out over this yet.

His grounding techniques don’t go unnoticed. Thankfully, not by Eddie, who’s mercifully off shift today. There was no way he could keep himself together in front of Eddie’s knowing gaze right now.

Instead, it’s Bobby who asks him, “You alright, there, Buck?”

Buck shakes himself and nods. “I’m fine, yeah.” He knows Bobby won’t take that for an answer though, so he adds, “Just got some news. I’m fine.”

Bobby hums disbelievingly but thankfully drops it for now. “Robinson from the B-shift is here, you want to head out?”

Normally, Buck would refuse, and he knows it’s probably a dead giveaway to Bobby that something’s up when he agrees.

Before he knows it, he’s in his jeep, approaching the turn that often plagues him. Left or right? To Eddie’s or to the loft? To the home he’s always longed for or the empty silence he craves right now?

He turns right towards the silence. The voice chanting in his head is accompanied by another, reminding him what he’d promised Eddie the last time he got a text from Connor. The promise he was yet to keep.

He gets another ‘negative’ text a month later.

He doesn’t even contemplate leaving his loft, instead spends the day listening to the voice in his head that reminds him that he’s failing, that he can’t help them.

For the first time since Buck ejaculated into a cup, Connor calls him.

Buck’s heart leaps into his mouth. He hopes that the change in routine means something good.

“Hey, man,” says Connor, voice hoarse. Not a happy call then.

“Hi,” he sighs.

Connor sniffles. “Yeah, more bad news, I’m afraid.” In the background, Buck thinks he hears crying - Kameron.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Look, I-” more sniffling, “I feel like crap for asking, but that was the last sample. Don’t give me an answer now, just thought I’d let you know: if you’re up for it, we’d like for you to donate again.”

Buck’s jaw drops. “What? Really?”

“Yeah, doctors say it’s not your fault, you’re perfect. Just… let us know.” Then he hangs up.

Buck lets the phone clatter to the floor.

Perfect.

They thought he was perfect? Him - Evan Buckley - a man so fundamentally broken to his core. Perfect?

Was that what his parents thought when he was declared a match? Was that what his exes all thought when he was a great fuck, but too messed up to be an actual boyfriend?

No - his parents, his exes, his flings, even Connor and Kameron - they only ever wanted that part of him that was supposedly perfect. All his supposedly perfect parts were just parts of a broken human being.

His defective parts, as it turns out.

Unlike the other times, he doesn’t end up at Eddie’s house. He ends up at Maddie’s.

“Evan?” she asks, her voice breaking when she takes him in. He can only imagine what kind of state he’s in. It’s the warm, motherly concern that - after all these months - finally breaks him.

His shoulders shake violently, and as Maddie pulls him into her arms, he lets out a sound which is half-scream, half-sob. She guides him into her apartment, and Buck briefly marvels at how she’s holding him up because he’s barely supporting himself. She guides him all the way to the sofa, and he finds himself curling up into her arms, just like he did when he was a kid asking why their parents didn’t like him.

Why he wasn’t enough.

Why is he still not enough?

“Oh, Evan,” Maddie cries as she strokes his hair, “you’re enough. I promise you you’re enough.”

He hadn’t meant to say that part out loud, because he knew what her answer would be, and he knew he wouldn’t believe her.

“Why did they have me?” He sobs into her top, “Why did they do that to me? We all just suffered more for it.”

Maddie pulls his face into her hands, cupping his cheeks and shifting him so he’s looking up at her, head still on her lap. He uncurls and lets himself lay down on the sofa (that’s honestly much comfier than Eddie’s - he’d still rather stay at Eddie’s). “Evan, no.”

“Yes,” he whimpers. “I gave you all false hope, then they still kept me around. They never let me forget, even though I never knew why! I knew they thought I was a failure, I just never knew why.” He covers one of Maddie’s hands with his own.

“I needed you,” Maddie says, in a voice so small, Buck wonders if she meant to say it. “I’d lost one little brother, and you were there and you needed me. And I needed you. You loved so freely, so openly. You were amazing, Evan.” Maddie looks up for a moment before continuing. “I think… a small part of the reason I never told you is because I didn’t want to take it away… to drag you into our grief. But Mom and Dad did that anyway didn’t they? They didn’t even need to tell you.” She returns one hand to his hair. “Buck, I’m so sorry, but please don’t say that we suffered more because you were born. You made everything so much better.” She manages a small, secretive smile. “Daniel loved you, you know?”

Buck feels the air leave his lungs. “Really?”

“Oh yeah,” and her smile is a bit bigger now, “he’d ask to hold you all the time. He was obsessed with you.” She gives a small chuckle. “I think he was glad to not be the baby anymore.”

The guilt hit Buck again. “He must’ve thought I’d save him.”

Maddie’s smile grows smaller again. “No, I don’t think he did.” She shakes her head slightly. “Sure, he’d tell me all the things he’d want to do with you: teach you to ride a bike, climb a tree, play football…”

She trails off, and Buck’s heart aches with the family he could have had: parents unmarred by grief, two older siblings, a brother. Maybe he and Daniel would’ve teamed up to get on Maddie’s nerves. Maddie probably would’ve been more annoyed than understanding at his antics. Maybe they would’ve gotten on each other’s nerves, instead.

“But he was lying, I could always tell,” says Maddie. “He wanted it so badly, but I could tell he didn’t believe it.” She shook her head again, tears brewing. “Daniel made peace with the fact he was going to die.”

Now Buck was crying for a different reason because no child should have to make peace with that. “I wish I could’ve saved him.”

“But it’s not your fault that you couldn’t,” Maddie tells him. “You made his last year fun again, Evan. You gave me a reason to not disappear in my grief like Mom and Dad. You have a family now that loves you, that wouldn’t be complete without you.”

As if on cue, a cry comes from the bedroom: “Mama!”

Maddie gently moves him upright, and Buck flops against the couch. “Let me get her.”

“I’ll just-”

“You’ll stay,” Maddie tells him firmly. Buck knows better than to argue with that tone.

Jee’s delighted scream forces a smile on Buck’s face. “Uncle Bu’!”

He holds his hands out to her. “Hi Jee!”

She claps as she toddles over to him. “Uncle Bu’!”

He pulls her into a hug and drops a kiss on her head.

“See what I mean?” Maddie says, in that annoying older sister tone. “And I’m pretty sure there’s another kid that’s obsessed with you.”

Buck smiles as he pulls Jee into his lap. “Actually, we’re calling him a young man now.”

Maddie groans, “I already suffered through your preteen years, I can’t believe I’m going to have to do it again.”

“Hey!” Buck pokes her as she sits down, “I thought I enriched your life?”

“You also took five years off it,” Maddie laughs, “and that’s just your childhood. Watching you at work gave me my first grey hair.”

Buck laughs and gives Jee-Yun a high five.

Two days later, Buck finds himself in Dr Copeland's office for the first time. He’d stopped coming before the move offline, so this was the first time he’d actually gone to her office. Only the second time he’d been in any therapist’s office.

(Working through that particular issue had been a fun session).

He tells her everything: everything since his last session after Eddie was shot. He tells her about his breakup with Taylor; Eddie’s breakdown; Maddie’s breakdown; feeling abandoned; feeling guilty; how after nearly a year he still doesn’t have a couch; being a sperm donor; his breakdown.

“Well,” she says, unfazed by the time he’s finished, “a pretty eventful two years then.” She looks over her notes. “Where would you like to start?”

Despite all the shit, Buck smiles.

Christopher still hugs him hello, which is a relief. It’s been mere hours since his first therapy session in years, and he thinks he’d break without it.

He welcomes the Diaz boys - his Diaz boys - inside. They set up Boggle on the kitchen table whilst Buck finishes dinner.

“It’s good vocab practice,” Eddie once told him.

Buck rolled his eyes, “And it’s not a video game.”

Eddie had smirked back at him. “That too.”

It warms Buck’s heart to see that even as puberty distances Chris from his Dad, he’ll still happily play ‘boring, old-school games’ with him. It warms him even more to know that he’ll get to play one final round with them after dinner.

Afterwards, when the two of them are huddled in the kitchen, Eddie on washing Buck on drying, Buck whispers to Eddie, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

Buck pauses what he’s doing, and Eddie follows suit. Buck’s eyes are drawn to Eddie’s like magnets. “For forcing me to go back to therapy.”

Eddie is clearly trying to tamper down a smile at the news. “I didn’t force you to do anything.”

Buck snorts, “Like I could break a promise to you.”

Eddie allows himself to smile now - a little cockier than usual. They return to their tasks at hand, but Buck can’t resist glancing over at Eddie every few seconds.

But he catches Eddie doing the same.

“Evan,” Dr Copeland says tentatively, and Buck immediately knows he won’t like what she has to say, “what you said to Maddie, about thinking your family would have been better off if you were never born, that sounds a lot like passive suicidal ideation.”

Buck inhales sharply. He’d had this conversation with Dr Copeland before when talking about his self-worth and the situations he puts himself in at work. “Yeah,” he admits, “it kinda does.”

“Do you know when these thoughts started again?”

“Umm…” he fiddles with his hands, “probably since Eddie got shot. H-he kinda told me off for it, actually.”

She nods and makes a note. “How often would you say you feel this way?”

Buck shakes his head, “Not as often as I used to, until…”

She says nothing and merely looks at him with a calming smile.

“Until this whole sperm donor business.”

“I’m glad you’re my sister,” Buck says over a glass of wine.

Maddie grabs his hand. “And I’m really glad you’re my brother.”

The next part was harder. “I-I-I… I don’t wish I wasn’t born… a-a-and not just because you needed me, but for myself.” He looks up, trying to will the tears away. “I like my life.”

She pulls him into a hug and cries on his shoulder a little.

“Maybe going to therapy with Mom and Dad was the wrong idea,” he says into her hair. “It just wasn’t a productive conversation. Maybe we should go. Work through some of our shit together.”

Maddie leans back nodding, before offering him her pinkie. “We always had each other growing up, I think it’d be a good thing to have each other through this too.”

It hurts a little, knowing just how much Maddie needs this, knowing she once reached a far deeper low than he ever had and he didn’t have a clue. He’d assumed she was fine because she’s Maddie - his hero - when she’d been in unimaginable pain. He hates that they can relate to each other in this way.

He wraps his pinkie around hers.

“Do you remember what we discussed about your relationship with sex?"

Buck blinks at Dr Copeland, who has just spent the past minute flicking through her notes. "Um, which part?"

"How you used casual sex as a tool for emotional self-harm."

Well, that certainly feels like a deviation from talking about being a sperm donor. Buck does remember. He had thought that he used sex as a coping mechanism, but after talking with Dr Copeland he realised that he usually felt worse after meaningless sex. He'd craved human connection and attention more than anything, but casual sex was only a hollow form of what he needed. It was him giving himself away, so eager to please, and getting nothing back. And he willingly put himself through that over and over again.

“Ah.” He now sees how this relates to the sperm donation.

"I… I swear I didn't realise what I was doing. I… I thought I'd feel better once Kameron got pregnant, once I knew for sure I'd helped them."

She arches a brow. "So you gave a physical part of yourself, and took on an emotional burden - under the impression that the emotional burden would be temporary?"

"Yeah."

"Was it?"

The last few months play back in Buck’s mind. Every text from Connor, every time he wanted to run and take comfort in Eddie’s arms. The downward spiral he’d been on that led him to breaking down on Maddie’s couch. He’d spent so long pushing down how he feels, refusing to examine his emotions.

Buck admits this to Dr Copeland, “I don’t really know what I’ve been feeling.” He picks at his fingernail. “I’ve kind of been ignoring how I felt about the whole thing.”

“Would you like to try and figure it out?”

Buck nods and tries to remember what he’d repressed.

The guilt. That was the only thing he’d been brave enough to name.

Impatience. That’s what he had told himself he felt.

Self-loathing. His old friend. The voice in his head that calls him a failure.

Then the two emotions that Buck is most scared to admit out loud.

“I… I felt relieved… every time Connor text me. Which only made me feel more guilty,” he whispers.

“What exactly made you feel relieved?”

Buck takes a few shaky breaths, trying to reason with the guilt that threatens to pop up again. He needs to get through this first. “I think… I think I was relieved that it hadn’t worked. But I was so busy feeling guilty that I could ignore it. I mean, what kind of horrible person feels relieved at that? My friend was in pain! And all I can think about is myself?”

“But this does affect you too, Evan,” she says. “Your emotions are important to this situation.”

He looks down. “I told myself I could walk away. I told everyone I could. I thought I could.”

“You no longer think you can?”

It feels like deja vu, with Connor sitting across from him at his kitchen island.

“I’m so sorry.”

Connor nods, looking firmly out the window. “Can I ask what changed?”

“I thought…” Buck begins, following Connor’s gaze, “I thought I could do this and walk away. I thought it wouldn’t affect me…”

Connor sighs. “You think it will?”

“It already has.”

Connor looks at him and Buck meets his gaze.

“I felt so guilty every time it didn’t work-”

“-Buck that’s not-”

“-I know.” Buck gives him a tight smile. He hopes it’s reassuring. “I know. But this brought up a lot of shit for me. I didn’t expect it to, but…” He drops the smile. Honesty - with others and himself. That’s what he told Dr Copeland he’d do. “I was ignoring how I felt because I wanted to help. I really wanted to help. I wish I could, Connor. But it’s not healthy. And if I can’t walk away now, how could I once there’s a baby?”

Connor gives him a watery smile. “It’s ok. Thanks for being honest with me.”

“I’m sorry for wasting your time… and money.”

“Buck, it’s fine,” Connor insists. “Kameron and I were talking about giving it a break for a bit anyway. It’s been… a lot.”

Buck winces, “I can’t even imagine.”

“Good.” Connor stands and pulls him into a hug. “Thanks for trying anyway.”

“Thank you for asking.”

“There’s something else.”

Dr Copeland looks up from her notes.

“When the treatments kept failing… I was- am afraid.”

Dr Copeland hums. “Do you know what you were afraid of?”

Buck gulps. This is it. The one thing he didn’t want to admit above all else. “That I’d never have a family of my own.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I know… I know I have the 118 and Maddie…” He looks at the potted plant in the corner of the room, unable to look at her as he shares his greatest fear. “But Maddie - I know she loves me, but she’s my sister. We’re kinda stuck together. And she has Jee and Chimney. And the 118 are great, and I know they chose me and I chose them…” he lets out a shaky exhale, “but it can’t last forever, right? Bobby will retire, someone will move stations, and they’ll all have their partners and kids, and sure I’ll see them every now and then… but it won’t be the same, and I’ll always be the odd one out. No double dates, no playdates with the kids, no breakfasts after shift or parties at Bobby and Athena’s when we’re all free. We’ll never all be together again.”

Tears roll down his cheeks. He lets out a shaky exhale and looks at Dr Copeland.

“I see,” she says, looking at him, pen and notebook on the table. “That’s a lot to hold onto.”

He wipes his eyes. “Yeah.”

“What makes you so sure that your chosen family won’t keep choosing you?”

“I don’t think they’ll do it consciously,” says Buck. “Life will just… get in the way.”

She hums and picks up her notebook and pen again. “Do you think if you have a partner, kids, or other commitments you wouldn’t keep trying to make time for them?”

Buck thinks of the lone lounge chair occupying the space where a couch should be and scoffs, “Like that’ll happen.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “What makes you think you’ll be without a partner or kids? Is that not something you want?”

“I do,” he says quickly. If there’s one thing he’s learnt from this sperm donor business, is that he wants a family… desperately. “But it keeps not working out…” and there’s one particular family he wants more than anything. “I just don’t think it’ll work out for me.”

“You’re only young, some people don’t find love or have kids until later in life.” She offers him the warmest, most reassuring smile he’s ever seen from her. “Trust me, Evan, it’s not too late.”

He goes back to picking at his fingernails. “B-but… but what if… what if I’ve already found it, but can’t have it?”

Dr Copeland doesn’t look confused or surprised at his admission, merely raises her eyebrows and gestures for him to continue.

“What if… there’s someone I want, but they don’t want me? What if I want… want to build a family with them, spend the rest of my life with them, but I know it won’t happen.” Buck can feel hot tears streaking down his cheeks. “I… I’ve been in love before but this… I don’t see myself ever moving on from this. And I don’t want to break what we already have. I can’t tell him.”

Dr Copeland nods but she’s not looking directly at him, seemingly lost in thought. “‘What we already have’, what is that exactly?”

Buck rolls his eyes but gives up trying to hide it. “It’s Eddie.” He’s never admitted it out loud before, but for some reason, telling Dr Copeland feels easy. He tried talking with Maddie, Hen and Bobby about this before, but could never get the words out.

“I’m in love with Eddie.”

He can tell their session is almost at an end. He always becomes more open when he knows he’s about to leave.

“I see,” she says, and Buck would put money on her figuring that out already. Honestly, he thinks Eddie might be the only person that doesn’t know. “So when you talk about what you already have…”

“My best friend. My partner at work. Dad of the best kid I know. A kid that he trusts me with, for some reason.” Buck thinks of the Diaz house and it feels like home. “He… he gets me, he listens. He makes me feel… valuable. He looks at me like he needs me around.”

She flips through her notebook. “Evan, in your last session before you stopped, you told me that Eddie made you Christopher’s legal guardian in his will. Is that still correct?”

“Umm…” Buck is lost, but he’s learnt that therapy is very much a ‘trust the process’ kind of deal. “Yes?”

She nods her head and flips through her notebook again. “Are you still on Eddie’s emergency contact list?”

“Well, yes-”

“And school pick up for Christopher?”

“...yeah.”

“And outside of work, how much time do you two spend together?”

Buck finds himself pouting, which seems to answer her question.

“Who initiates the time you spend together? Is it only you?”

“I- um, well…” Buck mumbles. “Both of us? I guess? We don’t really talk about it, we just… we just do it. It’s kinda expected.”

She nods, taking more notes. “So what exactly would you change about your relationship if it turned romantic?”

Now, this Buck can answer. It’s all he thinks about. “Dates… holding his hand… kissing him… sleeping in his bed instead of his couch…” He hesitates, before adding the last thing, “Maybe getting to help raise Chris”

He feels his face flush pink.

“So you’re not currently helping raise Chris?” she asks. “You’re their emergency contact, Chris’ legal guardian, the one they both have turned to in times of crisis - or just for emotional support.” She puts her notebook down. “Your current relationship with Eddie and Christopher - how would you describe it? How much does it really differ from that idea of a family you want?”

And isn’t that the million-dollar question? When he and Eddie are sat a little too closely on the couch, when they help each other through the rougher days, when they’re out with Chris - he knows what it must look like.

He can’t come up with an answer, and suddenly they’re out of time. Dr Copeland tells him to think about it, and pencils him in for next week. It has been a longer session - he knew his first one back would be a heavy one. His brain rattles with everything they’d spoken through.

As he drives home, he makes a mental list of things he needs to think about, and what he needs to do. He needs to speak to Maddie again, obviously, let her know how he’s doing. He’ll call her tonight so she knows he’s ok. He’s going to have to talk to Connor eventually, and he should also probably let Bobby know how he’s doing - his Captain had been giving knowing looks recently.

But first, he’s going to cook dinner for his Diaz boys.

Not long after Connor leaves, Buck is washing out the mugs they used, and he thinks back to the question Dr Copeland left him with. It’s been buzzing in his brain, itching under his skin since he left her office. Truth be told, it is something he’d been asking himself for… well, years. Ever since Eddie sat next to him and told him Christopher will be his but only in the worst circumstances.

Because who the hell does that? Make someone your kid’s legal guardian and just… not tell them for a year? Buck isn’t sure Eddie would have ever told him if he didn’t think he needed to hear it. And he did, he really did, but it just made everything more confusing. And they’ve never spoken about it! Eddie just gave him Chris and then never-

Buck almost drops a mug.

Eddie gave him Chris.

Above all his other family, he chose him. Because he’ll respect Eddie’s wishes, yes, but also because he has faith that if it came down to it, Buck would fight harder than any of Eddie’s family for Chris.

That sounds an awful lot like the idea of the family he wants.

Has… has he really had it all along?

Before he’s even finished processing the thought, he’s grabbing his car keys.

He’s been outside the Diaz house for at least ten minutes. Leaning against the jeep, he looks at his home, trying to figure out what the hell he’s going to say, when the door opens.

“You just gonna stare like a creep or you coming in?”

Buck can’t help but smile: Eddie’s leaning against the doorframe, looking so damn fond. It’s not a new look. Buck doesn’t know how he missed it.

He pushes off the jeep and walks towards the house. “I always want to come in.”

“You’re always welcome,” Eddie tells him like he doesn't already know.

He reaches Eddie.

“I was thinking about getting a new couch.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Buck bites his lip to hold his grin back. “I like your couch.”

“I like you on my couch.” Eddie beams.

He can’t hold it back anymore. He cracks a smile that must take up half of his face. “This is real, isn’t it? You and me? What we have? It’s not just in my head?”

Eddie takes his hand and Buck wants to jump for joy.

“Yeah, it’s real. Glad you caught up.”

Buck snorts and lightly smacks Eddie’s arm. “Asshole.”

“You love me,” Eddie teases.

He wraps his free arm around Eddie’s waist. “Yeah, I do. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He’s not sure who leans in first, but he doesn’t care, because his lips are pressed against Eddie’s and he’s home. He’s finally home.

2 years later

“C’mon, Buck. You’re not exactly a stranger to this.”

Buck rolls his eyes at Eddie, who’s quietly laughing to himself. “I hate you.”

“Says the man who’s about to wank thinking about me.”

Buck groans. “Oh my god, Eddie.”

“-is what you’ll be saying in five minutes.”

“I want a divorce.”

“Too bad.” Eddie’s grin is wide and cheeky.

Buck shakes his head and returns to the form on his lap. Ever since they’d decided to start trying for a baby, Eddie had been extra - well, happy would be the polite way of putting it, which was true, but even more notably - horny. Buck almost wants to remind him that they cannot, in fact, make a baby with sex. But who is he to discourage his husband’s urges?

Eddie puts a hand over his bouncing leg. “You’re sure you’re ok?”

“I’m fine, I promise.”

“This not bringing anything up?”

Buck takes his hand and looks at his husband. “Babe, I promise. I talked it through in therapy, with you, with Maddie. This is so completely different. This is about us. I want this for me and our family.”

“Good.” Eddie kisses his cheek, and it makes Buck blush as badly as it did the first time. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

They get four embryos.

Their surrogate sends them a text after the first round of IVF.

Elena: Positive!

Nine months later, the world meets Amelia Isabel Buckley-Diaz.

#buddie #buddie fic #911 #911 fic #911 fox #911 on fox #sperm donor buck #angsty sperm donor buck fic #my writing #ellie talks

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matan4il · 2 years

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Thanks for your lovely meta again! I really hope they won't go through with the sperm donor thing. I hate how the writes treat Buck right now. He has issues, yes, but he is very smart. It's not like if he said no, they could never have kids, because they could ask someone else. The whole thing is so weird, because who asks someone for something like this after not having seen that person for years? And if the spec is true, that Connor had something with Buck back then, weird doesn't cover it.

Hi Nonnie! Awwwww, thank you! I’m so happy to hear you liked the 604 meta and I am sending you big hugs!

As I said there, I tend to believe they won’t go through with it, both because it doesn’t fit Buck as a person, and because he clearly didn’t think about himself while reaching his decision, which is the opposite from the balanced, healthier view he’s supposed to be moving towards. I also think it doesn’t make for as much drama, right? If everything is smooth sailing once Buck said yes. So I do tend to think we’re gonna see that ride get bumpy. How will it be resolved? I very much hope (and believe it better fits with Buck’s arc this season) for him to start recognizing when he’s allowed to say no to things, and that it’s okay to put himself first when it comes to issues involving self-sacrifice.

But without a doubt, it was a very weird thing to ask for out of the blue. If it’s okay, I wanna combine this portion of my reply with the following ask:

asking someone to be a donor because they’re a kind person is the dumbest thing ever. kindness isn’t inherited. writers must think viewers are stupid if they expect anyone to be okay with this reasoning

I think that between the weekly meta and my Connor tag, you can see several more reasons why it just didn’t feel right, that whole request and the reasoning behind it. I mentioned, for example, that Connor knows who Buck was, not who he is now. That in itself should give us pause. Yes, Buck used to be kind. But is he still today? ‘Coz second Nonnie, you’re right. Kindness is not height. If Connor knew back in the day that Buck was tall, he could still count on that hereditary trait to still be pronounced in the same manner. But kindness is a complex trait. It might be influenced by some genetic factors, but not exclusively, and it interacts with experience along our lives to such a degree that we can observe people showing very different levels of kindness along their lives, or even just choosing to express it differently towards different people as life experience accumulates. What if life had made Buck bitter and hard, biting and unforgiving in the years that have passed since he was Connonr’s roommate?

Things like being ghosted by Abby or used and dumped by Taylor in 208 could have changed his level of trust with others and how he behaves towards them. Connor doesn’t know. When he and his wife decide to ask Buck, it was clearly before they even met him in this ep, so how was she comfortable with asking for the sperm of a man she hadn’t ever met? IDK, the whole thing feels desperate. As if this couple for some reason think that Buck is their only option, or maybe only good one? Which begs the question, how few kind friends did Connor have? But I’m kind of putting all of that aside, ‘coz most likely, this is just about the plot. If Connor and his wife weren’t so weirdly desperate and hung up on one trait that they didn’t even know how it was currently manifested in Buck, they wouldn’t have asked him right away, and the show wouldn’t have its dramatic dilemma. This isn’t like Buck and Eddie’s story, with all of its careful and loving build up. There’s a chance this will come back and Connor and wifey might end up admitting to themselves (and to Buck) that they didn’t think this through and made mistakes beyond how they sprang their request on him. It wouldn’t surprise me if the show went there. But they also might not, ‘coz this is more about Buck realizing what he hadn’t thought through, in which case, this couple’s odd decision making process is less interesting to the writers, so they might not get too into it.

Thank you for the ask, I hope you both have a great day, lovelies! And here is my ask tag! xoxox

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lunefrog · 2 years

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that stupid fucking radfem on that bee post makes me so mad bc they just totally hit their head on the point. social bees do have "distinguishable sexes" but they ARENT analogues to the human "male" and "female" and in fact, the sexes social bees actually have are queen, worker, and drone. SOLITARY bees are a much closer analogue, there are the females which lay eggs and then the males which fertilize the females. it is, also, not really. accurate to call queen, worker, and drone bee genders because bees don't have genders, nor do ANY non-human animal because the human conception of gender is something ONLY humans have, its a very specific human social-cultural phenomenon. but whatever that doesn't really matter. animals which express sexual dimorphism have a tendency to get Really Weird With It, in ways that make it difficult for us to place them in the easy boxes of male and female, especially with sexually dimorphic animals which have more than two sexes. birds are a good example of this.

it is, also, a very annoying conflation of the colloquial use of male and female and the scientific use of male and female (male being 'produces gametes which fertilize' and female being 'produces gametes which get fertilized') and i wish radfems would explode. it makes me so mad. like biology is mutable!! humans have such an insane biological plasticity which has been a large part of our success as animals, to deny that is simply unscientific and also i'm going to bite you and give you every disease.

"female" bees (and ALL OTHER STINGING INSECTS) have a funny little organ called an ovipositor. the ovipositor is how they lay eggs, and is much more analogous to a penis than it is to a vagina. the stinger, one of the key features of bees and other stinging insects, is also a modified ovipositor, which they use to inject venom into their target. if honeybees were mammals, they would share much with hyenas--which, well. have a structure through which they birth cubs called a pseudopenis--not unlike an ovipositor, actually, but instead of eggs it's full babies.

also, a weird tangeant, but mammals don't really, reproduce asexually. but most other animals will readily do so, snakes and other reptiles, amphibians, birds, fish, bugs, etc. plants and bacteria will also reproduce asexually (NOT talking about purely asexual species, which is very rare in vertebrates, only about asexual reproduction in general.) mammals are sort of the odd ones out and we tend to stick to two sexes, the exact reason why we and the rest of the animal kingdom don't just reproduce asexually isn't known but presumably having more genetic diversity is useful enough to warrant it, and asexual reproduction is sort of a dangerous game which makes organisms less genetically diverse than their sexually reproductive peers--which makes sense, given that most animals that can reproduce asexually also can reproduce sexually, and usually only resort to asexual reproduction in extreme cases, though there are notable exceptions to this--the Cape bee (social parasites), the Abystoma newt (kleptogenesis reproduction--they literally steal sperm from other species to reproduce), and the amazon molly (asexual fish).

it is also, in my opinion, totally erroneous to compare the sexes of HIVE INSECTS to HUMAN BEINGS. like are you fucking kidding me? there's been debate whether a hive individual even counts as its own animal because the entire hive functions as one organism, you're seriously going to die on the hill of BEES ARE WOMEN? grasping at fucking straws to try and prove gender is inherent and immutable and biology is restrictive. desperate.

#lune croaks #long post

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paganminiskirt · 3 years

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Joseph Seed getting two different women pregnant by accident:

#far cry 5 #nsft #joseph seed #ethan seed #weird genetic sperm count? no pullout game? both?#Ubisoft we need answers

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menalez · 2 years

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There's lots of reasons I think IVF is unethical.

1. If it's a woman with her partner than it's likely because the male has a low sperm count or some shit and like... That likely means the baby is more likely to have genetic disorders and etc. Like if he has unhealthy sperm don't use them??? Whether it's because the scrote is old, jerks off to porn, etc. Just. Don't. If the women has fertility problems my worry is for both her and the child. Especially if it's something that'll make it more likely for her to die in childbirth. Like it’s really messed up to think it's worth it if the reason you can't get pregnant is because your body does it to prevent injury/death.

2. If it's from a sperm bank or whatever:

a. The child could have who knows how many half siblings. What if they meet one and fall in love? What if they want to meet said half siblings?

b. Similarly, what if they want to meet their bio father? Messy.

c. The men in charge lie. A lot. The number of cases with the male doctors using their own sperm is fucked up and also leads to the problems in a and b.

d. The whole thing where you choose a male's sperm based on pics of various guys is... weird. Iirc it also leads to certain demographics of men having pricier sperm because they get chosen more. Once again leads to problems like in a. Also gets worse if you consider that there's likely a minority who use this as some sort of fetish like getting 'cute mixed babies' and designer babies and etc.

3. If it's from a guy you know:

a. What if he suddenly decides he wants to be involved. It gets trickier legally because he is the bio father.

b. What if the child wants to meet him or wants to be involved in his life but he doesn't?

c. If he has kids with a partner do you treat them as half siblings or what? Like obviously you need them to know they're related but aside from that?

4. Just selfish to want bio kids that bad imo. IVF can take multiple tries, years, and thousands to tens of thousands of dollars to be successful.

5. Stimulating the ovaries to release multiple eggs is... not healthy. There isn't much research on its effects and I feel as if it's just another way to fail women. Also just all the procedures, especially if doing multiple rounds of IVF, cannot be good for the women.

6. A women is a lot more likely to get multiples instead of one baby. Yes anyone can have twins or triplets but IVF makes it way more likely. That's so much more taxing. Also might be more likely to have premature birth.

Obviously the parts about meeting parents and siblings is also present in adoption or fostering but I feel as if it gets even more messy if you bring IVF into the equation. This is also all I can remember off of the top of my head. There's more, and all of it put more eloquently with proper sources by other people.

yeah the main reasons im iffy on every having IVF for myself or my partner is bc of 2b and 3a, i wouldnt know how to deal with it honestly and i cant imagine wanting bio kids enough that id be willing to risk that. this is why adoption >>>>>

but thank u for sharing these! theyre definitely tricky situations to overcome for people who go thru the IVF route

#idk about the truth to some of the points u made but its worth sharing anyways #if some1 knows more n wants to debunk they can feel free

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satansfreshhottiddymilk · 2 years

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HERE'S A WEIRD ONE does Ponti's sack get cold all the time?

SFSDFFFPFRT i dont think so?? even tho testicles typically "like to be cold" him having bawllz in general is another genetic glitch for him so hes basically Not Supposed To Have External Genitals but since hes a weird mix of cold blooded and warm blooded its one big genetic whoopsies AHA bc since warm blooded organisms can regulate body heat better and since sperm need a specific temperature to not be deformed and have a higher count, balls being closer or further from the body is a temperature regulation thing sO BASICALLY:

so idk i guess they work like regular mammalian balls but futiley since i would think bc hes somewhat cold blooded as well it kinda messes everything up pffft so even tho he doesnt have sweat glands to maintain temperature he can still get Hot as in skating in like 100 degree weather and get Low Hangers AHA

#its FINALLY time to regurgitate what ive learned in several anatomy classes FINALLYY #ponti #although it might be off since its been years since those classes but this is what i vaguely remeber #insert ponti yelling about freezing his balls off and ollie being So Fukkin Confused bc reptiles dont have balls

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thedeafroleplayer · 3 years

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~Destiny to be unlocked~

Word count: 476

Warnings: mistreatment of a child

Summary: this is the backstory of Bucky’s daughter.

——————————————————————————-

Being a teenager was hard enough in this crazy world. Teenagers had to deal with Superheroes and Villains fighting, aliens, and so much more. The blimp and the new laws made life so much harder. Just imagine if you were just new to the real world after years being a weapon for HYDRA. That life belongs to Melody Grace Barnes, the daughter of the Winter Soldier. Also known as the Genetic Killer. She was created as a dish baby through IVF. She was one of the many sperms that was used to create offspring of their Super Soldier serum, and she was the only survivor.

She was raised in a very cold and cruel way. She was treated as an experiment that wasn’t human, something with no thought of herself. She had no toys, no windows, just food, water, medical attention, and minimum human interaction all so they could have the perfect killer. They wanted the best and she was going to be it. She was raised this way for 8 years before getting an opportunity for a break.

When she was 8 years old, she met a man who came to the compound she was staying at just to meet her. It was a weird but relieving visit for her, the man gave her a toy, gave her love and affection, answered all her questions, and even asked her questions as well. Although this was new to her, she loved it regardless. That visit quickly turned into the man breaking her out of the compound. He killed so many people just so she could escape. He quickly got her to an orphanage that he trusted. She didn’t want to be left behind. But the man said “You can be whatever you wish to be, do whatever you want. It’s your choice and your choice only.” and left. That man was Helmut Zemo.

After the man left, she did feel abandoned but slowly the man’s words slowly hit her and she slowly decided what she wanted to do. She learned how to read, write, sing, dance, just anything she wished to learn, she learned. She was happy for the first time in her life. But that happiness was short-lived. HYDRA eventually found her again and transformed her into their perfect soldier once again.

She spent years killing people who were HYDRA’s problem. If they were in the way, Melody would be the only one to take care of it. But she slowly got out of control, she didn’t know how but she did. She was her own person now, she could do whatever she wanted to be, do whatever she wanted. At first she had no idea what she wanted to do now she was freed. But this’ll be her story of how she will find out who she really is. Who is Melody Grace Barnes?

#winter solider fanfiction #winter solider #marvel oc #fanfic #Destiny unlocked

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goodnightallwhites · 4 years

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Globalized Fetish: BNWO By Skiddely

Globalized Fetish: BNWO

By Skiddely

Submitted: January 18, 2020 Updated: January 18, 2020

The story nobody waited for. Stories about the BNWO. If you dont know what that means, dont read it. Seriously. Features a ton of interracial, black supremacy, BLACKED, etc.

Provided by Hentai Foundry.

Chapter 0 - Introduction 2

Chapter 1 - A whitebois life 6

Chapter 2 - Education in the BNWO 9

Chapter 3 - Tattoos and their meaning 13

0 - Introduction

Thing have changed in the past few years. With the rise of CRISPR/Cas genetic modification of the human race has become commonplace, designer babies, the eye or hair colour, the sizes, Intelligence and even skin colour. Things went normal for a while, single mothers and white couples everywhere would get their perfect aryan children, most of them girls of course. With the rise of estrogen filled products most white males had gone the way of their women, becoming more girly both physical aswell as mentally, which made them more susceptible to their wives or girlfriends wishes. Back in the day, no virile man would ever WANT a daughter, but like I said, things changed. So now there’s a whole bunch of young aryan supergirls making their way into the world, the pussy economy has changed. For every male there’s about 10 girls, each smarter and better looking than the last. Even the parents that decided to go against the grain, that decided not to pursue the aryan standard of beauty, still have beautiful daughters. Red hair, brown hair, black hair, regardless of their race, they’d be the equivalent of supermodels back in the day.

Things were good for men during those days. Or rather they would have been good, if there were still enough real men to enjoy these pleasures. The effects of soy products really changed the physiology of white men. Further and further they devolved, slowly turning more feminine with every impossible whopper consumed. Erectile disfunction, development of breasts, shifts in voice pitch and more feminine features made them diverge more and more from the beauty standard of the strong, tall intelligent loverboy. Things looked grim for a while as less and less white couples had children, with the women desperate for sexual relief and the men unable to provide it, usually preferring to be penetrated themselves, rather than to engage in sexual intercourse themselves. Already declining birthrates plummeted even further, up to a point where the original white race was heading for extinction quickly. The solution to these would be found in unexpected places. Due to purely socio-economic reasons, the urban population of America and Africa were exempt from the privilege of gene therapy and the damning results of soy products. In the beginning it was still a controversial topic, hushed voices in yoga class talking about their limpdicked white boyfriends while rumors about virile black men with large cocks made their way around. Before too long, the bravest white girls made their way into the ghetto’s of America, trying their best to find the cock they’re really craving. These adventurous few found exactly what they were looking for, well hung black men ready to ravage any hole that was presented to them. Savage and rough gang bang sessions were common for the first few girls, each of them getting fucked by a whole gang of black thugs, confined to their cribs until they were pregnant. This kind of relentless fucking which was akin to those of rabbits quickly gave these women a new nickname. The birth of snowbunnies is still celebrated as a holiday everywhere.

Eventually most of these pregnant white women would make their way back to civilization, bringing with them news of the incredible mind blowing sex they found in the ghetto. What started slow, quickly turned into a mass exodus of white women. All of them flocking to the darkest parts of the country, leaving their faggy whiteboys alone at home. What came to no surprise to anyone was the fact that even the ghetto’s would be unable to supply enough black dick to these eager snowbunnies, leaving most of them unsatisfied simply because it was logistically not possible TO satisfy them. A solution had to be found.

It was clear that black cock was the answer to their problems. Black men proved to be stronger, bigger and simply better lovers, their big black cocks being the only thing that would be able to satisfy a modern white woman. But what to do when there’s simply not enough cocks going around? A thinktank was established to find a solution to these problems. With several thousand snowbunnies already pregnant with black children it was clear that the next generation of black cock was already secure, but the bunnies wouldn’t be able to wait this long. The first attempt was atleast a partial success. The sex toy adapted to the new demands of single white girls by establishing the new norm for dildos, vibrators and other toys. Big black dildos became the biggest seller in the adult industry, each of them sporting a minimum length of 9’ making them as close to the real thing as possible. Bigger versions of black dick were also quite popular, with many white women permanently ruining their holes with these large toys, stretching themselves out to the max, limiting their pleasure to only their toys and the largest of black men out there. This shift in the industry served to atleast somewhat satisfy the demands of the snowbunnies out there. It didn’t do the same for the white “men” left out there however, as those few that still retained their ability to achieve and erection would find themselves unable to pleasure even the smallest of white girls out there. These dejected individuals had to cope with the fact that they were not desirable anymore. Many of them eventually found solace in the same toys as their women. Unable to achieve an erection, they usually resorted to anal stimulation in the vain attempt of spurting out their impotent cockjuice. At this point in time, same-race-sex or SRS had become an extreme rarity, most women starting to consider it to be a weird fetish reserved for the outcasts of society.

While this change proved to be a good start, it wouldn’t be enough for most bunnies out there. They were naturally craving the real thing, which at this point was still considered to be somewhat of a rarity. This gave the porn industry a clever idea. If they cant go out and get the real thing, just give them the real thing back home. The already dwindling genre of SRS would quickly be replaced solely by interracial sex. White women serving black kings in high definition, sucking and fucking on camera for the entire world to see. BLACKED and BLACKEDRAW became names known to every household in the country. Big muscly black men using their fat uncut cocks to breed fertile white pussy would prove to be the most important media of the time, replacing even daytime TV with a ceaseless barrage of professionally made interracial porn. In many ways this new type of entertainment shaped the people, normalizing the worship of black men, creating a new religion of black cock. New shows would air to great acclaim, showing how to best please and keep your black master, displaying how to best rim black assholes, how to maximize the chances of pregnancy and how to properly emasculate your tiny dicked white friends.

Of course this didn’t just change the life of white women. The minority of white boys would find themselves face to face with unending propaganda displaying their inferiority, aswell as the superiority of the black man. Their minds already closer to those of real women, they quickly accepted this truth for themselves. This however created a new problem, as feminine small dicked white boys would now also be on the hunt for real black cock. A real solution had to be found. And find one they did. All across the country the think tank established new centers for population control. Colloquially only known as “breeding centers”, these places would house thousands of white women interested in getting black bred. Any black man visiting these centers would be provided with as much fertile white pussy as they wanted, aswell as financial compensation for their time. To mark a snowbunny as a member of these high sought after centers, they were provided with a complementary tattoo. A black spade with a centralized Q would mark them as a Queen of Spades, a woman who had dedicated her life to black men.

These breeding centers proved to be highly effective. More and more white women would find themselves impregnated with a black baby and through the power of gene manipulation, they would find themselves with the highest certainty that their children would be even bigger and stronger than their black fathers. A new generation of big black cock was in the making. Each impregnated woman would receive a spade womb tattoo, signifying to their peers that she did her part. These tattoos would end up being one of the greatest cultural heritages of the times, but we’ll come to that.

With a new generation of black Kings ready to pop out, the think tank found themselves cornered with a new problem. They would run out of snowbunnies before too long. As it turns out, black seed has such strength and potency, that it was nearly impossible, even with advanced gene therapy, to create more white babies. This was a great problem, seeing as how the few white men still around had become cock sucking sissies worshipping black cock. Once again a solution had to be found. And they did, as ugly as it was, they did find a solution. It was an ugly solution of course, but to get the bunnies, you first have to extract the snow. It was hard to find still find white boys with proper swimmers in those days. Most of them had accepted their inferiority and surrendered to black cock like their women did. Their already reduced sperm count further diminished by their limp dicks, they proved to be useless for anything other than being a cocksleeve for a black master. It took quite some time, but eventually a few whiteboys were found that could still supply the sperm needed to continue the white race. Now it was without question that no snowbunny should ever be forced to actually have sex with their small white weenies, which meant other ways of extraction had to be found. Luckily the experience gained by the breeding centers would prove to be beneficial in solving this problem.

In these new breeding centers, the white boys were restrained similar to livestock. They were raised, fed and cleaned by their handlers, snowbunnies specifically selected for this task based on their motherly demeaner and simultaneous disdain for their own race. Initially, the whiteboys were milked for their semen by hand, their keepers using their delicate fingers to milk it from their prostate gland. Of course no white woman was ever forced to touch a tiny white dicklet, it would’ve been too insulting, even with properly insulated gloves. However this meant that the slow and methodical milking of the prostate was the only way to gain the whiteboy sperm. With time passed, each milkmaid found their own way to accelerate the process, whether its by stimulating the nipples, stimulating the penis through the urethra with a steel sounding device, or even just by stimulating his insides by inserting her entire arm into his butt, each maid got more efficient by the day.

All in all it was still a slow process, but the continuous existence of the snowbunnies was guaranteed through the sacrifices of the milkmaids. A special tattoo was created, the spade with a single sperm in the middle signifies their dedication and sacrifice for their black masters. Of course these genuine milkmaids are quite rare nowadays. With the advent of new milking technology the profession lost its necessity for the most part. Of course modern day breeding centers are somewhat different. Restrained whiteboys are now being automatically milked without additional human help. The automatic pistoning prostate stimulator isn’t quite as delicate as a womans fingers, but it does the job and so does the extra small penis suction cup, designed to slurp up all watery semen squirted out by the restrained whiteboys. Anyways, like I said, the problems that were presented had been solved. With snowbunnies supplying an endless supply of superior black men and whiteboys supplying the snowbunnies to serve them, society has changed.

The balance of power has changed. The time has come for a new world order. A Black New World Order.

1 - A whitebois life

The life of a whiteboy is dictated by their black masters and their snowbunny whores. With new laws in place, a whiteboys life has changed considerably. For one, the display of white penises without good reason is considered to be a crime. Furthermore it’s a criminal offense for a white boy to walk around without their tiny cock in chastity and their butthole plugged. The basic role of every whiteboy is to be a servant Afterall. This includes serving their owners during sex, filming it, prepping her black master and cleaning both of them up after they’re done. Lets just take a quick moment to try and immerse ourselves in the life of a whiteboy. As you wake up in the morning, your first thought will be about black cock, the same thing you thought about before going to bed and the same thing you dreamt about as you were sleeping. With your tiny clit locked in a cage, an orgasm is out of the question of course, but you still dream about it. The buttplug stretching your once tight asshole reminds you of a possible black cock as your reward for good work, so you quickly put on your uniform, the miniskirt, kneesocks and shirt that designate you as a sissy whiteboy slave. Your beta of spades tattoo is always visible of course, just as the law dictates. With that done, you make your way to their bedroom just in time, you have to make sure that he begins his day with a good morning blowjob afterall. It took quite some time, but after enough training and painful stretching of your jaw, you finally managed to properly take his whole cockhead into your mouth. Of course that’s still nothing compared to a true snowbunny slut, but it’s a start!

As you slowly get him hard with your wet, slimy mouth, your mistress begins to wake up, rubbing her pussy to the sight of your head bobbing up and down on his cock. Of course a black king wouldn’t just be satisfied with that, both of you know. With one hand still on her slit, she quickly crawls behind him, ready to give herself an early morning tongue workout. First she plants kisses all around the rim of his asshole, one wet sloppy kiss after the other until she’s circled all round it twice, leaving smears of lipstick all over his ass. It doesn’t take long for him to get even harder with her tongue slowly starting to penetrate his asshole, past the his sphincter, deeper and deeper inside. Round and round her tongue goes, coating the inside of his asshole with her spit. Rubbing herself to her first orgasm of the day, she quickly switches positions with you, forcing your face under his ass as she begins to give his balls a tonguebath. With both his asshole, cock and balls covered in shiny spitlube, she’s ready to properly serve him. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he throws her on her back, spreading her legs apart. His fat black cock looks way too big to ever fit inside of her, but he obviously doesn’t care. As an alpha male, her pussy is his to take. And so he does. In one smooth stroke he forces his entire length and girth into her tight white slit, her eyes rolling in the back of her head as a low guttery moan escapes her throat. As he picks up his speed, you can only try to hold onto him as you slither your tongue as deep as possible into his black ass. With your lips you create an airtight seal around his dark asshole, desperately running your tongue around inside of his rectum, hoping to be a good little whiteboi to your black master. But neither of them really pay any attention to you. You might aswell not exist in their world, neither one of them wasting a single thought on you as they have the raw animalistic sex you’ll never get to experience. All you get is the taste of his ass and the sound of his fat black cock ravaging her tight white pussy. His BBC invading her insides, roughly forcing its way deep inside of her, knocking on her cervix over and over again. With each thrust she gets tighter, gripping his cock with her vaginal walls as it pulls out.

His big dark hands move from her waist up her body, one gripping the blonde ponytail she always rocks when she goes to sleep, the other gripping tightly around her throat. With her hair as his reins he rides her, pulling her head back, arching her back., each of his thrusts creating a bulge of his fat black cock imprinted on her lithe stomach. Her air begins to run out, hypoxia further amplifying the pleasure of his cock dividing her pussy, ramming it deep inside of her over and over again, claiming her entire being as his own. A powerful orgasm rolls over her, her brain sending electricity through her body, confusing its need for air with the pleasure of his cock. Her entire body tenses, pussy clenching down even harder on his cock, forcing him to use even more force to pull back while her walls are latching onto him. Brain shattering orgasm after orgasm rolls over her until her she goes limp, her body giving out from the lack of blood entering her brain. Another few thrusts into her unconscious body do the trick and his thick nigger seed paints her entire womb, once again proving him to be the master over her body and soul. His hips buck again and again, making it hard to keep latched onto his asshole, but as a veteran sissy of spades you keep a firm hold onto his asshole with your mouth. Having done his duty, he lets go of her throat. As blood rushes back into her brain she regains consciousness, completely cockdrunk from his meaty black member. With her out of order it falls to you to clean his cum and her juices of his BBC. Reluctantly detaching your mouth from his asshole you turn your attention towards his cock again. Finally you get your real reward. You decide to indulge yourself a little and start with his fat salty nuts, still glistening with her spit. You circle both of them with your tongue, before taking each one into your mouth individually, bathing them in the warmth of your mouth and once again giving it a deep tongue cleaning. You take a deep breath through your nose, really taking in the musky smell of his cock and balls. The kind of manly smell that makes snowbunnies wet and little sissy whiteboys drool with their mouth and clitty cocks.

With his balls properly serviced you run your tongue along the length of his shaft to get the pure taste of their combined juices. You swirls them around in your mouth, your own spit mixed with hers, his cum and her pussy juices, all of them combining to create a divine taste in your mouth any sissy would kill for. Satisfied with the taste you gulp the slimy mix down. Again you take his cock into your mouth, bobing up and down on it to make sure you get it clean as well as you possibly can. With your vacuum like mouth you cheekily suck on his urethra, getting another reward as you suck out the few remains of his semen out of his pisshole. Cleaned good and proper, he leaves for the shower, leaving the both of you behind in bed. Her pussy is now oozing cum and you have to do everything in your power to keep yourself from sucking it out of her used gaping pussy. Sure, cleaning up her creampies is your job, but they’re aiming for another black baby in the moment! You have to make sure that as much semen stays in her pussy as possible, the strongest swimmer has to make it in the end, the strongest obviously being the seed for a strong black male baby and you cant just let a little detail like him pulling out lower the chances of her being bred properly. Quickly you scoop up as much leaking semen and shove it back in her gaping hole. You take another one of those adhesive tapes designed to properly seal her pussy and seal it up completely, leaving no way for the semen to escape. You decide its best to let her sleep out her cockdrunk high. Getting back to your room to change into your slutty maid uniform. Its time for your daily chores after all. Once again you thank your black masters for letting you be a house sissy and not one of those white workslaves they keep locked away, not even getting to see a single white woman get black in their entire lives!

The thought of such horrifying imagery spurns you on as you clean the house, prepare breakfast, stretch your anus some more so it might one day fit his cock and buy some groceries.

2 - Education in the BNWO

Education in the New World is of huge importance. Not only does it teach science, philosophy, music and art to the people, it also teaches them the natural order and responsibility of Black Masters, Snowbunnies and white betas. Early on in life is when the future of every person is decided. Trough the magic of gene therapy, the average IQ has seen a dramatic increase, with each generation already being more intelligent than the one before. Due to this, essentially any person alive today is much too intelligent to actually do unskilled, blue collar work, which raises the question of who exactly is going to be responsible for the work no one wants to do, but still has to be done? Well the answer is fairly simple and didn’t take the thinktank very long to answer. White betas would be required to do the heavy lifting in society. Being the shrimp dick impotent losers they are, they’re required to keep society running, while their black masters are busy breeding fertile, young, white pussy to ensure the survival of humanity. Where limpdick whitebois provide the labour, black kings provide the BBC to keep the country afloat. However there’s still more work to be done. How do you decide which whitebois scrub toilets, clean the streets and your car, which betas go into higher education to make sure snowbunny wombs stay fertile, PAWG pussy stays wet and who pays for the orphanages of white babies? And how do you decide which lucky sissy gets to live the dream life of servicing their black king and white mistress?

All of these questions are answered in school, through the usage of the new curriculum introduced to enforce the rules of our new society. To make life easier, a caste system was introduced into every school, a system which carries over to the rest of the country. For one, we have the Black men. In school, just like in real life, each black man is a King in his own right. They make up the fewest students, but also make up the highest caste in the system. A Black King gets to essentially do whatever he wants. They’re allowed to come and go as they please, if they wanted to, they wouldn’t have to attend at all, as school is not compulsory for the upper caste. Furthermore they’re allowed to take whatever they want, whenever they want. Members of the lower castes, snowbunnies in training, teachers and at the very bottom of the caste, the beta sissies, are all subject to the BLACK caste. No white cattle is allowed to ever deny the orders of a black king unless it were to interfere with the interest of another member of the highest caste. Aside from that however, anything goes, which means its not unusual to walk into a classroom where a teaching PAWG tries to explain the anatomy and inherent superior of black cock to a class that is mostly busy pleasing their masters, two white bitches sucking black testicles, warming them up, cleaning them with their tongues, while another worships the fat anaconda infront of her face, choking herself on it until her mascara runs down her face and his cum completely coats her, truly enjoying the blessed facial of black semen painting her pale face. Usually at least one other whore, be they sissy or bunny, is busying themselves with an enthusiastic rimjob, tongue slobbering all over his black ass, tongue trying to stimulate his prostate for his amusement.

With 4-5 black men in one class, this could mean that there’s simply no one left to pay attention to the lesson. This brings us to the next caste, which strictly speaking, cant be counted towards the student caste. The teachers in the new education system are usually the most experienced PAWGs. The ones that have

taken more black dick than anyone, who have chosen to preach the gospel of BBC to the new generation. These beautiful snowbunnies are quite often pregnant with another black baby, or are simply recovering from another one of countless pregnancies, but already eager for another black bun in the oven. Like I mentioned before, despite being teacherbunnies, they are still subject to the whims of their superiors, which makes a live demonstration of advanced spitroasting a common occurrence in modern schools. In fact, most of the curriculum was taken over by sex education or biology, but that’s something we’ll get into a bit later. The next caste are the future snowbunnies, the snowbunnies in training. All fertile white girls fall into this category. It is the responsibility of every school and every teacher to make sure to instill the values of our new society into these impressionable young minds. All apprentice snowbunnies are taught about the inherent superior of black men and their big black cocks, their superior sperm count and impregnation rates of almost 100%, all the while contrasting these lessons with pictures of small uncaged white weenies. Any snowbunny must come to understand and revile a tiny white cock and that “white masculinity” an oxymoron in truth, was natures mistake. They will eventually come to understand that their tiny clitties aren’t real cocks, that they are simply snowbunnies stuck in the wrong body, destined to serve them and their black gods. School is also where they receive their first tattoos, a black vine without leaves around their throat, running down their arm or down their thigh. As anyone knows, this is an indicator of how many black men they have had sex with, with the receiving of their first leaf indicating their progress into adulthood. To facilitate their position above the white sissies, they are also given a certain degree of freedom in terms of clothing. White a black satin choker with a Queen of Spades pendant is mandatory for all females, they are free to choose from numerous different outfits, ranging from thongs and see-through panties to a fancy garterbelt combination. They are allowed to wear short shorts, boyshorts, miniskirts, revealing dresses and tanktops leaving their belly free to be seen. All this freedom is of course provided to ensure that they are as attractive as possible for their black superiors.

Last, and most certainly least, are the betas of spades, the sissies, the beta whitebois. These unfortunate creatures are further separated into three castes. Like I said earlier, we have the working class that is further divided into blue and white collar work. These unlucky ones are the worst and best the academy has to offer from a scientific point of view. While the dumbest of them go into menial labor, slaving away with their only reprise being free interracial pornography and access to black dildos, the smartest go into leadership positions, they become scientists and doctors. These are slightly more lucky, being allowed the freedom to watch livestreams of real white women getting BLACKED. Truly the most unfortunate would be the blue collared slaves that have to work around snowbunnies however. Even with their chastity cages on permanently, one can not guarantee the safety of a snowbunny when she is around one of these beta males. Being weak and sissified losers, they’re hardly a threat, but the trauma of being touched by a whiteboi who isn’t their personal creampie cleaning maid? That’s something that no snowbunny should have to experience. Which is why these unfortunates have to be treated differently than the others. Before they are allowed to take up their work for the first time, they’ll be castrated by a qualified nurse or other healthcare provider, all of them being white women who simply want to make the world a better, a safer place. That leaves us with the last third of them. During their entire scholastic career, the whitebois have to take numerous exams, both written aswell as oral. That you can take quite literally, as these exams are atleast partially about how good they are at giving head, eating pussy, rimming black assholes, etc. Only those whitebois that achieve the highest grades at these exams and show the highest affinity for subservience and servitude get to become actual house servants, maids and sissies of spades. Caste wise these would rank below a snowbunny, but above the other whitebois. Truly these are the most

lucky and usually happiest of whitebois, as they get to experience their white goddess being black bred live and they may even participate in their savage love making by prepping her black master or licking both of them clean of their juices after the act. Now that we got that out of the way, you might ask yourself just what exactly do they actually teach at these schools?

Well like I said before, there are extensive lessons on biology, especially human sexual physiology. The first lesson any white bitches need to learn is the anatomy of their bull, since only those that understand the anatomy will be able to please them properly. During these early anatomy lessons they go in-depth on why exactly the BBC is able to please tight white pussies, it explains the superiority of the uncut veiny black penis, the intoxicating smell of their fat black nuts and the pheromones excreted, especially when a white nose is nestled deeply in his nutsack between his testicles. Of course they also go in-depth on the superior length and girth of the black monster penis which is able to stretch out any small bitch pussy while reaching all the pleasurable spots in a snowbunnies vagina. Due to these black kings being uncircumcised, they also teach them to properly clean underneath his foreskin with their tongues, an ability which any white whore needs to learn quickly to survive and please in this new world. Once they understood that the BBC is considered the gold standard, they’d of course have to learn what they could compare it to. This lessons is the most uncomfortable for any white girl, as they now have to see pictures of tiny white penises to understand their inherent inferiority. Of course the teachers use this occasion to provide live examples on these comparisons, putting up black students against white betas and comparing their length and girth. In the case of black students, the teachers prep them with their mouth, getting them wet and fully erect, spit glistening on their massive lengths. The whiteboi on the other hand only gets to receive a handjob between thumb and index finger. For this uncomfortable and quite disgusting procedure, the teacher of course resorts to using thick black latex gloves. With both of them erect, the teacher measures their lengths, elaborating on the inferiority of the small white penis and explaining why such a little shrimp would never be able to satisfy any woman.

The following lessons on anatomy would be about Semen. During these lessons, the teachers would explain what makes black cum so superior, talking about the viscosity, consistency and sheer volume of semen produced by black men, while comparing it to the tiny watery load of impotent swimmers a white boy could still produce. Taste testing during these lessons is of course a mandatory experience for snowbunnies and betas so they better understand the delicious smell, taste and thick consistency of black cum. These lessons usually end with the teacher displaying her amazing ability of swallowing multiple loads of black seed collected on scene from her students. The last set of the early anatomy lessons are of course about black breeding. Of course it is always up to the black man to decide when and where he cums, however these lessons should instill upon these students the importance of getting their white pussies bred by black cum, especially when they’re ovulating. In depth the teacher goes on about the relationship of miss uterus and mister BBC who gets to knock Miss uterus’ cervix over and over until his semen thugs come in, bend her over and rape the fuck out of her precious tiny egg cells until miss uterus is left with a black baby. To drive this point home, these lessons are usually presented by an already heavily pregnant teacher, just so the snowbunnies know what they could look forward to (and the sissies know what they’re missing).

With the basics of anatomy out of the way, the time comes to put theory into practice. At this point, the class gets split, with the black guys and snowbunnies getting the chance to try black breeding themselves in specially prepared breeding rooms, stocked with everything they would ever need for a 24/7 fuck sessions, while the whitebois are left in the classroom. This time is used to introduce the

concept of chastity cages to these betas. Using specially made metal instruments, the penis length and girth, aswell as the thickness of the urethra of every bitchboi is measured. Of course the teachers are wearing protective gear during these lessons, so none of them accidentally come into contact with one of these whitebois filthy shrimpdicks. With the measurements completed, the cages are prepared individually for each whiteboys. These are usually the same cages they wear till the day they die. Due to the integrated urethral plugs, these cages are impossible to be removed, unless the person has the proper key. Once each whiteboi is equipped with the proper cage, they are then forced to begin their grueling anal training, each of them having to start stretching their buttholes with progressively sized buttplugs. This training would continue for their entire school time.

These would be the most important lessons for the students. Of course there are other topics to be talked about, for example the existence of melanin receptors in a snowbunnies vagina, created using gene therapy as a means to keep even the most deviant of women from debasing herself enough to actually think about having sex with a whiteboi. Or tattoo class, where the significance of each different tattoo is elaborated upon.

But these are topics for another time.

3 - Tattoos and their meaning

Back in the day, when interracial relationships were, for the most part, just deep dark fantasies lodged in the heads of every white girl out there. Only few of them ever got to experience the undeniable, raw sexual power of a big black cock, with most white girls being oppressed by their white fathers, brothers and husbands, all of them desperately trying to keep them from finding out the truth.

BBC is just better.

But like I said, every story has its heroes. Brave women that stood up against the dictatorship of limp dicked whitebois, unable to please any snowbunny with their inferior shrimpdicks. Naturally these fighters for sexual freedom would find themselves being bred by superior black men. Having experienced the mind blowing, gut rearranging, orgasmic power of black dick, these women would dedicate themselves wholy to the cause of teaching the world the pleasures of nigger cocks. To ensure that black kings could recognize these women with one glance, they created a symbol that acted as an identification for their lovers and a shield from whitebois. The black spade with a centered Q became a symbol of their resistance. In the form of a tattoo they were applied to an easily viewable area, such as the neck, ankle, collar bone or in the most daring and rebellious of them, the face. Some of these newly dubbed “Queens of Spades” opted instead for temporary tattoos, for the times where they were on the prowl for another BBC to suck of black asshole rim. At any other time they could simply remove these tattoos, blending into the white society, ready to stealthily convert many more women and girls to the amazing cause of black superiority. These brave young women paved the way for the tattoo code enacted and elaborated on in the last decade.

Taking inspiration from these women, our great thinktank invented the standardized tattoo code we all know today. First was of course the classic “Queen of Spades” design which has hardly seen any change in its design in the last few years. This classic is usually the second tattoo a white girl receives, only predated by the black vines, and denotes their coming of age, completely leaving behind any shred of a life not dedicate do servicing black cock. A different variation of this classic is applied to sissy whitebois who have dedicated themselves to pleasuring their black masters. The “sissy” or “beta of spades” tattoo is a declaration of their surrender before superior BBC. But lets get back to the start, not historically speaking, but rather the start of any white girls career as a black cocksleeve. The first tattoo they receive is of course the classic black vine without leaves. This tattoo is usually applied to the upper arm, thigh, throat, over their chest, around their breast or navel, anywhere really. Truly a versatile mark. In the beginning the vine is completely bare, that is until a woman gets penetrated by BBC for the first time. For each black cock taken, anally or vaginally, another leave on the vine is added. Its important to note here, that each leaf means a different partner. Multiple relations with the same partner does not add more leaves to the vine. This of course encourages the spirit of competition, each girl fighting the other to be THE superior snowbunny. Of course for most white women this sort of competitive spirit is dampened when they find the right partner, or partners, however there are plenty women out there adding new leaves each day. In some cases this leads to tattoos so elaborate, that the white skin underneath can hardly be seen anymore, covered by all the fat black cock she has taken in her life.

Moving on. You probably already wondered what exactly a snowbunny is. Well some people consider it just another word for your average white woman, drunk on black cock, mother to several black children and pregnant with another one. But you’d be mistaken. A snowbunny used to be something a bit more special. What sets a snowbunny apart from any other white woman is their sexual appetite and ferocity. Where a regular woman would be content to be ravaged once or twice a day, a snowbunny needs more. These nymphomaniacs are completely addicted to nigger cock, craving it every second of the day. Their minds are completely focused on getting black bred, constantly thinking of the next gang of black thugs that can rearrange her guts with their massive slabs of dark meat. Essentially, these are the elite version of the average white woman. Or at least they used to be. Nowadays with gene therapy and artificially inflated sexual hunger, its rarer to find a woman that doesn’t qualify to be a real snowbunny. Back in the day the snowbunny tattoo, the regular black spade with a cute bunny in the middle, used to be a sign of respect. Or at least a great lay for black kings. Nowadays most women qualify for this tattoo and quite a few of them do get it, even if it doesn’t have the same societal influence as it once had.

Now black ownership comes in many different forms. In a sense, all white women in modern society are black owned as designated by the law, but also of their own volition. Because which white bitch could ever resist the temptation of 20 inches of dark chocolate? Semantics aside, black ownership is a definetly a thing as you know. What used to be called “marriage” back in the day is now black ownership. And what better way to celebrate than the beautiful gift of a new black tattoo on pale white skin? Black ownership tattoos come in many different shapes and sizes, they might just be the most versatile of all government mandated tattoos. Some people prefer the clinical nature of the Barcode and spade combination, allowing any law enforcement to instantly trace a snowbunny back to her owner. A little less subtle would be the various forms of writing, varying from block lettered “BLACK MALE PROPERTY” to what essentially amounts to hand drawn scribbles indicating that they are “BLACK OWNED”.

Another classic would be the queen of spades womb tattoo. They come in all shapes and sizes, some making its way across the whole abdomen, one more intricate in its design than the other, others are small, simple and could be mistaken for a landing strip of pubic hair if one doesn’t take a closer look. Of course you know what these mean. All women that have birthed atleast one black baby are entitled to a womb tattoo, proving their loyalty and dedication to continuing the black race. Another variant of this tattoo is the snowbunny womb tattoo. This one indicates that the woman in possession has graced the world with one or more white daughters, continuing the inevitable cycle of black gods ravaging fertile white pussy.

As you know, there’s plenty more tattoo designs out there, both official aswell as unofficial. Take the “multiple black masculinity symbols penetrating a single white femininity symbol” tattoo. I know it’s a bit of a mouthful, but as far as I know these don’t actually have an official name. They’re proof of a womans dedication to pleasing multiple black kings at the same time. Two symbols indicating a threesome, three a foursome and so on. Frequent participants in gang bangs tend to have tattoos completely surrounding their fragile femininity with throbbing black arrows. The I <3 blackboys usually go out to snowmilfs or teachers that prefer younger black men, while the “Say No to White Boys” tattoos are basically just fashion statements at this point. Sure they might’ve been relevant at some point in time, back when people actually still debased themselves to letting shrimpdicked beta cucks flop around ontop of them, but thankfully these times are long gone.

I’m sure there are a few I forgot, but I do believe these should be the origin and meaning of the most important ones.

#bbc #story #interracial

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avengerscompound · 5 years

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The Tower: Unexpected - 5

The Tower: Unexpected An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist Previous //

Pairing: Avengers x ofc, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 2364

Warnings: Angsty stuff, the boys are mostly still being asshats, pregnancy stuff.

Synopsis: A little over 2 years after moving into the Avengers Tower, Elly finds herself pregnant against the odds. While some are excited, others are terrified, and pregnancy that none expected to happen causes rifts through the group and threatens to end the relationship.

Author’s Note: Written with my muse @fanficwriter013

Chapter 5: The Most Fertile Person in the World

It was only a few days later that the OBGyn that Tony had arranged was set up in the Tower and I had my first appointment. Her name was Doctor Schroeder and apparently she was the best in the city and Tony was paying so that by the time of the babies due date, I would be her only patient.

“Mister Stark gave me a rundown on what's happened. So we might start by getting your birth control out. But first. Do you have any questions?” She said as Steve, Wanda, Natasha and I all sat in her exam room. I was sitting in one of those hospital gowns and nothing else. I still hadn’t seen the others. Steve had said Sam had gone to see his family. Natasha assured me Clint was reading because he needed to get his head around the idea he was going to be a parent. Hulk was still around which meant Bruce was not. Bucky was still isolating as was Tony. Except where Steve saw Bucky every day, no one had seen Tony at all.

“What are the odds of this happening?” Steve asked as Wanda gave my hand a squeeze.

“The birth control Doctor Cooper was on was 99% percent effective. They say for every 1000 women on it one gets pregnant every three years. On top of the fact that you men were all on a birth control developed by doctor Banner? Now I have no idea how effective it was because there was a lack of clinical trials but I would say you have a 1 in 2000 chance of this happening really. That baby apparently really really wanted to exist.” Doctor Schroeder explained. I didn’t know if I felt better or worse hearing that. Like if it was the most unlucky thing to happen or maybe I was really lucky.

“And it’s healthy?” Steve asked.

“We’ll need to take a look, but birth control like Doctor Coopers just stops ovulation, it happened anyway. I looked at the kind you are on, and it's similar but with sperm production.” She answered. “Basically you have the guys that are the absolute strongest competitors coming together. It won’t have affected their health.”

The problem was that wasn’t the only thing we had to worry about. I looked at Steve and took a breath. “What - Do you know what will happen if it's - if Steve or Bucky or Bruce are the parent?” I asked.

She sighed. “That I can't tell you. We will monitor things carefully. As you know we can narrow it down if you want, so we know if we have anything extra to be concerned about.”

“I'm here,” Steve said. “You can take a sample - a small sample - for comparisons.”

“I thought you didn't want to know?” I said.

“If there is an issue with health, for the sake of your sanity. We should do it.” He said rubbing my leg. “But I do not want to know. That baby will be all of ours, no matter the parentage.”

“Okay. Well, how about this, I'll work out if the baby is genetically either yours, Sergeant Barnes, or Doctor Banner's when he returns, and then I'll know if there's something to keep an eye on, but I won't pass that along unless I have to?” She suggested.

Steve gave a curt nod. “I agree to these terms.”

“Alright. If there’s nothing else for the moment we’ll start by taking the birth control out. Then I’ll take some blood samples and then we can take a look. See who we’re dealing with in there.” She said.

“I’m good if you are,” Nat said to me. I got up on the examination chair and Wanda sat beside me holding my arm as Doctor Schroeder took blood samples, gave me a local anesthetic and took out the implant before sewing it up with paper stitches and putting gauze over it.

She then took a few vials of blood from Steve and explained that the earliest she could do paternity was eight weeks and that she would make a plan for that based on how far along I was now.

“Okay,” She said after she’d cleaned everything away and brought the ultrasound machine closer. “Are we ready to see the baby?” We all nodded in agreement. “Elly, I need you to lie back and spread your legs.” She said adjusting the chair back and lying a blanket over me. Wanda took my hand as Doctor Schroeder prepared the probe. “This is going to be a little uncomfortable.” She said and inserted the probe. I winced. For such a tiny thing, it pinched, that’s for sure. She shifted it around inside me at weird angles that were far from pleasant feeling. Wanda seemed to send a calming energy into me, though, and I felt her tell me she was right there, clear as if she said it out loud.

“You’re doing great, Elly. I know this isn’t fun. But look, can you see this funny little peanut shape. That’s your baby.” She said.

I looked up at the screen and saw what looked like two large black spaces in a sea of white static. To the bottom of each was a small kidney bean shaped thing with a little fluttering spot right in the middle of it. I felt the sudden urge to cry and I wasn’t even sure what I was looking at. “But there’s two,” I said.

“That’s because there are two of them. Can you see the flutter?” She said circling the spots in the middle of the kidney beans. “That’s their heartbeats. You are actually having twins.”

“Twins?” Wanda asked, her voice slightly shaky. I knew this was big for her, being a twin herself and losing her brother. “We're having twins?”

“You are,” She said moving the probe around a little. “It looks like they are fraternal too which has just blown your odds through the roof to astronomical levels. It also makes the paternity a little more complicated.”

I stared blankly at the screen. How could this be happening? I had to be the most fertile person in the world. If the other’s freaked out the way they had been about one, they were going to completely cut and run with two.

“Did you just say, that they could have two different dads?” Natasha asked, looking up at the screen.

“It’s certainly possible. It really depends on what happened here that made two different birth controls ineffective. Did one of you just forget to take it around the time her cycle rejected hers? Or do we have a case of two different lucky swimmers from two different people?” She said as she started taking measurements. “We’ll definitely have to keep a close eye on them until we figure this out. If you have one supersoldier and one baseline human their development rates could be drastically different or the super could steal the nutrients from the other. That isn’t uncommon with twins.”

“So, this is going to make things more difficult?” Steve asked. He looked a little like a deer in headlights. I recognized that look of guilt on his face. I could only imagine that he thought one of them was his and it was going to cause issues.

“Twins never make it easier.” She said jokingly. “We will work this out though. I promise. If the blood tests aren’t conclusive there are other options. We’ll monitor things closely either way.”

“Twins…” Wanda said, her hand going to my stomach.

Doctor Schroeder did a few more measurements and looked at me. “I would put them at seven weeks. Does that sound right?”

I nodded, of course, they were. “Right when Thor was here.”

She shook her head and let out a laugh. “So potential demigods too. You’re really making me earn my money here.” She said. “Would you like to hear their heartbeats?”

“Yes, we do,” Natasha said before any of the rest of us had a chance.

She flicked a switch and the room is filled with a loud swoosh swoosh sound. All four of our faces lit up at the sound. There was something about hearing it that made it very real and not just this abstract ‘scary thing’. “That’s their hearts. Going right in the zone we want them. They look very healthy.”

“We're gonna have twins, El,” Wanda said squeezing my hand.

“I know. Maybe it will be a boy and a girl like you and Pietro.” I said.

I didn’t think Wanda’s smile could get any bigger but it did right then. “Maybe.”

Doctor Schroeder moved the probe around a little more before removing it. “We’re done. Did you want a print out of the babies?”

“Yes. A couple please.” I say thinking about how the Hulk would want one.

Doctor Schroeder pushed a button on the machine and it began to whir as it printed out the pictures. “Keep that wound clean. I’ll need to take more blood in a couple of weeks for the DNA, and then we’ll have another appointment in say, 4 weeks to see how they’re developing. I’ll need to see Sgt Barnes for a blood test. I know Doctor Banner isn’t exactly here with us right now do you think the Hulk will let me take blood?”

“I think it'd be best if you let me try and do that,” Natasha said.

“Thank you. Given that Thor is a potential biological parent here if there is any way you can get a blood sample from him too. Otherwise, if it's not one of the three of you, I'll need to test everyone to rule him out.” She said as I began to dress in my regular clothes.

“We'll take care of it,” Nat assured her.

“Elly, here is a list of things you should be taking and avoiding. Plus some birthing options.” She said holding up a packet and giving it to Wanda. “Are there any other questions?” Wanda looked back at me and shook her head. “Well, it was nice to see you. I'm on call now, so if you need me for anything don't hesitate.”

I finished getting dressed and the four of us headed back out to the elevator. “Are you hungry, El?” Wanda asked.

“Yeah, a little,” I said not fully paying attention. “Twins…”

“I’ll make you something.” She said.

“Thanks. I guess… I guess I have more news to give people.” I said.

“I'm going to go get that sample from Hulk,” Natasha said. “You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah. I will be. You should take one of the pictures to him,” I said tearing off one of the ultrasound pictures and giving it to her. “He wanted to see, so it might help keep him calm. Tell him it's twins and he can come talk to them after if he wants.”

“Okay,” Nat said taking it. “I'll do that.”

“Thank you, Tasha. Thanks for coming with me.”

She kissed my cheek as the elevator stopped on Bruce’s floor. “Of course, honey. I'm going to talk to Clint too. And then I'll be back up.”

She got off and the doors closed as we traveled up to the common floor. Almost as soon as the doors closed, I felt an overwhelming urge to cry. It had been bad enough telling everyone that it was one. Now I had to do it again and tell them there was going to be two. I turned to Steve and fell against him hiding my face in his chest. He wrapped his arms around me and stroked my hair “It’s okay, El. I’ve got you.” He said, in his deep rich voice.

“Thank you. I can't believe it's twins. I feel like Loki is messing with us or something.” I said through a shaky voice. Only barely keeping the tears in.

“Well, we can ask Thor.” He said gently.

“Yeah. I guess so. Can Loki do that? Just mess with our birth control?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, sweetheart.”

The elevator stopped and I pulled away from him taking out the paperwork from the packet to distract myself with as Wanda went to the kitchen. “There are a few things to get,” I said sitting down.

“I can handle that if you like.” He said.

I shrugged. “I’ll just add them to FRIDAY’s list. It can come in the next delivery.”

“Okay. That should work.” He said sitting down beside me.

I ran my hands over my stomach and looked down at it. “There are two people in there,” I said. “I have 3 times as many skeletons as most people.”

He shook his head and stifled a laugh. “You’re such a dork.” His hand went to my stomach and he linked his fingers with mine. “They’re going to be very loved and well cared for. You don’t have to worry.”

“Yeah. I’m gonna get really huge.”

“Is there a point to that, El?” He asked.

“Just ... I don't know. What if... And then after…”

He kissed my temple. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“What if no one wants to be with me after this?”

“Oh, sweetheart.”

The tears came then. Fat drops running down my cheeks. “Well? I mean even taking out the fact I'm going to be massive, I apparently am the most fertile person in the planet.”

“Elly,” He said pulling me into his arms. “We're gonna deal with this. You've got us. Forever.”

“What if I'm not good at this? I didn't exactly have very good role models.”

“Neither did I,” He said. “Come on, honey. You need to just let yourself process this. I know it hasn’t exactly gone smoothly, but this is good news.”

“What are we going to tell the others?” I asked. “How am I going to tell them if they won’t even come near me?”

“They will. They love you, honey. Everyone loves you. They don’t mean to be hurting you like this.” He assured me. “When they’re ready to hear you can tell them.”

“How will I even know they’re ready?” I asked.

He kissed the top of my head. “They’ll come to you. Don’t worry.”

// NEXT

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hellyes-tommccamus · 4 years

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Trinity (2003) [film]

Sci-fi/drama

Tom McCamus plays a main role

I was so excited to finally see this movie. A weird, low budget indie British movie? Yes please.

Tom McCamus plays Dr Clerval, a scientist working at a remote research station. He is taken prisoner by investigators Shiller (Lucy Akhurst) and Brach (Stephen Moyer). At least Shiller believes it is him, he claims to be a clone of the doctor. It’s an intense, unsettling film.

The stylistic choice to use mostly harshly lit closeup shots works for this film, and showcases Tom’s skill at conveying nuances of meaning and emotion with the smallest of movements.

I could listen to Tom talking about genetics all day long, but being both a scientist and a pedant I have to point out that DNA does not contain proteins (okay fine, histones, but those are for structural and control purposes and don’t contain genes). Transcription and translation have to happen before you get to proteins.

Also he talks about fertilisation of clones made by somatic nuclear transfer. That’s actually not necessary, as somatic cells contain all the genetic material needed to make an individual. An ordinary egg needs to be fertilised as it contains only half of the genetic material, and the sperm brings along the other half.

Thirdly, a “clone” which has been screened for undesirable traits isn’t an exact copy of its original. And screening isn’t exactly the right word; from the context, CRISPR gene editing (which didn’t exist at the time) would be more accurate. Screening is more like checking for genes linked to diseases or undesirable traits. In general what he talks about is real science. It’s how Dolly the sheep was made. And genes for personality might sound fake, but I have read papers which prove there is truth in that.

However, his statement about eugenics is complete balderdash. It was and is not effective. Because we have two sets of alleles which control each trait (this is a simplification), dominant genes mask the appearance of recessive genes, so heterozygous individuals (with one “strong righteous” gene and which hides its partner the “undesirable proletarian” gene) will escape any eugenics program and those terrible undesirable proletarian traits will arise again when two heterozygous individuals have children.

Poverty, disease and disability are not entirely caused by heritable genetic traits (poverty is not at all, in fact).

Dr Clerval’s program involves screening individuals to find the best example of every gene in order to produce the best human. He admits that this is down to his opinion.

I’m sure everyone will agree that is not a good idea. But I can tell you that it is also scientifically flawed. A genetically identical population is a vulnerable population, which can be wiped out by a single disease. It is also unable to adapt to change. You might create the perfect human for a particular ecological niche in the current time, but as the environment changes, this population of clones would all become unfit to survive.

There are certainly copies of genes that do not work correctly and are deadly if you inherit them, but there is not a single “best” gene. Otherwise evolution would weed out the unfit genes naturally. Evolution is more accurately described as “survival of the fit enough” not “survival of the fittest”. I’m not the fittest human by any stretch of the imagination, and I’m sure that neither are you. But we are fit enough to survive and that’s all that counts.

I appreciated the fact that “clone” Clerval has grey hair, as this hints at the ageing problem that often plagues clones. As we age, our cells must divide to produce new ones, and the ends of chromosomes (the telomeres) shorten. Many animal studies have shown clones to have shortened telomeres when they are created/born and suffer from the effects of ageing sooner.

The genetics aspect of the film is left a mystery, or forgotten about in favour of weird mind games, which was a little disappointing. I would have liked to know more about Dr Clerval’s experiments and the other clones.

#trinity #tom mccamus #lucy akhurst #stephen moyer #gary boulton-brown #genetics #science

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sarcastic-sunshines · 5 years

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ABIONA AU- Part 5

Pairing: T’ Challa x Black!Reader

Warning(s): None

Word Count: 3065

Link to ABIONA by @writingmarvellousimagines

Link to Face claims (2)

Part: (1) (2) (3) (I1) (I2) (4) (I3) (I4)

Part 5

“Okay beautiful, crawl to Baba, just get on your knees like this and come to Baba. Come on I know you can do it. This way to Baba” 6 month old Abiona did not move from her position sitting on the ground. Instead she giggled and babbled at her father’s antics.

“‘Ona what is so funny”

“It’s you, she thinks you are a joke. Right boo boo, Baba is a clown” T’Challa turned to face Alix and Jules, who was recording as asked by T’Challa in hopes of catching Abiona’s first few scoots.

“Alix you are such a comedian yourself. I haven’t seen you do one think to encourage our daughter to start moving.” Alix moved to pick up Abiona from her spot on the ground and kissed the giggling baby.

“Because she is only 6 and half months. She can crawl and anytime between now and ten months. Let her do it on her own time, stop rushing her”

“ Yeah T, I thought you could have passed on some of those herb genes to Abi but she seems like a regular baby to me” T’Challa sighed.

“Jules I already told you that the purple herb is ingested and it’s genetic changes cannot be passed on through hereditary. Please turn off the camera”

“Then what have I been here filming except you looking like a clown” Alix burst into laughter causing Abiona to laugh as well

“ Memories, Jules, Memories” said growing tired of being the bud of the joke.

“ Well I wouldn’t call any of that memories but if you sell the footage of the Black Panther you may get a good penny out of this. Not that you need it, so I could really just take the footage of your hands and-“

T’Challa snatched the camera out of his hands “We both know the answer is no”

“ Alix, your man is mad stingy for someone who has gazillions of dollars” Alix who began to walk to the nursery with Abiona replied,

“Jules stop trying to profit off of T’Challa . Plus you need to go, Amélie will be here soon and you promised Maman you would take her car to the mechanic remember?”

“Shoot your right, bye T” Jules ran out after kissing his sister and niece goodbye. T’Challa locked the door behind him and met Alix in the nursery where she was breastfeeding Abiona.

“What time is Amélie getting here?”

“In like 20 -30 minutes” She answered looking up at T’Challa

“Is David coming ?” He asked as he distracted Abiona from feeding time

“Yes T’Challa , can you please leave me and Abiona alone. She has to eat before her playdate” T’Challa got up after rolling his eyes. “Why is it called a play date, when neither child is really old enough to ‘play’ it is purely an excuse for you and Amélie to gossip as you leave the children to lay on their blanket for two hours”

“ T’Challa I don’t know why you are acting like you don’t enjoy hanging out with David. You are just upset because he always makes comments about Abiona marrying Emmanuel” T’Challa immediately became defensive while Alix smirked.

“They are babies! They don’t even speak yet. How are we supposed to know if this Emmanuel is even worth Abiona’s time” T’Challa spoke as Alix laughed at the passion he had for the topic.

“Babe, Emmanuel is a baby, why are you talking as though they have actually asked for her hand in marriage or something. Plus I doubt you will ever think anyone on this planet will be worth her time” T’Challa leaned down to rub Abiona’s head distracting her from her meal once again.

“Because there isn’t a singular human being on this planet who will ever be worth my princess’s time”

“Someone is protective. You are going to hate age 16. T’Challa I am not going to ask again leave the baby to eat. You know she is easily distracted by you. Go clean up or something”

“Alright, Abiona your Mama is sending me away to go work in the kitchen. How cruel”

“ Abiona tell your Baba he is no use here and he should go put out snacks for your play date like a good host” T’Challa finally got up and left with a frown, leaving Alix laughing as she looked at her giggling baby and thanking the universe for giving her the most adorable family.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Just as T’Challa had expected, the two moms immediately put down their baby blankets and placed the two babies with some toys and started talking. T’Challa rolled his eyes at the site before turning back to David.

“So you and Alix, are you? What are you?” T’Challa looked at David with confusion all over his face.

“ I am not really sure how to ask it but are you guys together now or is it still that weird trial period that she pretends your feelings for her are non existent and you are nothing but a sperm donor?” T’Challa immediately became offended.

“ It was not that bad, Alix showed her feelings for me” David laughed.

“ T’Challa you are a smart man, you have to be kidding me right? The only reason I knew you all were even thinking about giving it another chance was because Amélie told me about it. To the common eye you looked like a lost puppy dog. Me and the other guys at Lamaze had bets on how long you would let this go on.” T’Challa thought about what David said. Maybe he was right, he had spent a large portion of the pregnancy not knowing what foot he really stood on with Alix. Luckily for him it worked out, because even he could admit that it was getting a bit desperate. He appreciated David’s honesty, though always blunt it always helped him attempt to sort out what was happening with him and Alix.

“Out of curiosity, how long did you bet for”

“ Well let’s just say thanks to your persistence I lost 250 euros” T’Challa was insulted

“ You bet against me? I thought we were friends?”

“ And we are, but like I said, I thought you were smart and would eventually stop chasing someone who didn’t want you. But hey you are the true winner here. Look at your little family” T’Challa turned and smiled at two of the most important women in his life.

“You are right. Yes, it took so much time and patience from me but I finally got the preferred outcome. Alix and I could not be any more on the same page. If we weren’t we wouldn’t be going to Wakanda together because I would not want that confusion to continue over there.” David nodded in agreement.

“That is good to here man. I happy for you guys. Some of the guys had a side bet of whether you would eventually get tired and leave Alix’s case for Tina and I just want you know I placed a bet for you and Alix and I was able to make double the amount I lost. Most of them really thought you would choose Tina. I however saw how whipped you are up and personal so I knew Tina was not an option. Again thank you for your persistence” T’Challa immediately panicked and shushed David.

“I cannot blame them, Tina was a sight for sore eyes. Did you see her post on Instagram. Her snap back was quick. She doesn’t even look like she had a baby.”

“ David please stop talking, I am actually begging you” like clockwork, the mention of Tina’s name caused Alix to look at the men’s direction. T’Challa awkwardly waved at his lover who returned his greeting with an eye roll. Tina was still a sensitive topic, which T’Challa tried to avoid as much as possible. That included avoiding her at their last few Lamaze class. Luckily she went into labour early so T’Challa could stop the awkward encounters met with stares from Alix from across the room. He felt bad for Tina because he really did like her, and she truly did seem harmless. But casualties had to happen for this war of love for him and Alix to end. T’Challa looked back at the babies to find that 8 month old Emmanuel had pushed Abiona who was now laying on her back ready to start wailing. T’Challa yelled “Hey!” and immediately went over to pick up his daughter

“ You are okay beautiful. Do not mind him, I knew that Emmanuel was trouble before he even showed up. It is okay baby” David bent down to pick up Emmanuel who was confused by all the commotion.

T’Challa they are babies, they do things like that” Amélie said with a laugh

“Abiona did not touch your baby so why did Emmanuel think to touch her. She is a crowned princess, my heir, she is the most important thing in my life” Alix stood and rubbed T’Challa’s back.

“ T’Challa it is okay calm down. You are doing a lot right now. Here come sit with me. So sorry guys, he is really protective and a bit of drama king”

“Speaking of Wakanda, is there any way would be able to visit you all when you move?” David asked

“I cannot say, we are still limiting immigration and tourism but over the next few months of my full time return, it will be one of my primary focuses. But we will be returning to France quite often since Alix’s family is still here” He said looking lovingly at Alix.

“That is what Alix is telling me, it is a good thing you are keeping the apartment then” T’Challa looked confused and when he tried to look at Alix for clarification she looked at everything but T’Challa .

“Oh I am sorry, was I not supposed to say anything” Amélie apologized.

“Well, I guess Wakanda is on hold then. Am I right T’Challa ” David tried to joke. Luckily Abiona pooped, which T’Challa for once was happy to clean.

After Amélie and David went home, T’challa knew he wasn’t ready for whatever excuse Alix was going to tell him so he brought Abiona in her bouncer to his study and decided to work on the outline of goals for the Chicago Outreach Center. He took a little break to admire Abiona, he couldn’t help to smile, There was no doubting that Abiona had her mother’s beauty. She looked like her twin. He loved that woman, but she was tiring him. As though she could sense him thinking about her she came into the study to join the pair. In true Alix fashion, she could sense his anger brewing and deciding to turn on her sweetness. She immediately entered the study and without being prompted sat on his lap. T’challa wasn’t shocked. He wanted to see how long she would go to avoid having a discussion about what happened earlier.

So he put on a slight smile “Can I help you” Alix breathed as sigh of relief, thinking she could go on without discussing what was said earlier.

“Yes, I made dinner, and I got a red velvet cheesecake from the bakery close by for dessert” T’Challa was disappointed at how far she was willing to go just to avoid serious conversations. He was quiet during dinner, and even with his cheesecake he ate quietly, feeding a little to Abiona. Alix wished he didn’t but today was not the day to nag him. T’challa continued to be quiet as they got ready for bed, Alix watched him to see if he would say anything. Yet he was silent. He sang to Abiona and put her to sleep. He climbed into bed and laid on his back, not reaching for Alix. She moved closer to him and began to rub his ear and tried again to break the tension.

“So what were you and David saying about Tina” T’Challa closed his eyes, he was upset but he was not dumb enough to pick that fight.

“He simply was saying that Tina’s baby was cute, nothing else.” He easily lied before opening his eyes too look at Alix, kiss her good night and turn his back to her. He was hoping she would take the hint and let him sleep so they could try again in the morning. He did not like to go to sleep angry, especially angry with Alix, so diving into a discussion would only lead to a fight and he was okay with the light simmer they were currently at.

“ T’Challa ” Evidently his hoping was wasted. Without turning to face her, he answered “Yes Alix”

“You have been quiet with me since Amélie left, and I don’t like it. Can we not do that please” T’Challa was quiet. Maybe if he pretended to have fallen asleep she would leave him alone. Again he was wrong. Alix got up and turned on the light and stood in front of T’Challa’s face. He slowly opened his eyes and looked up at Alix.

“Alix, please, can we talk about this tomorrow. It is bedtime and very soon Abiona will wake up and I would like to sleep a little before then”

“ T’Challa I want to talk about this now or I won’t be able to sleep.”

T’Challa rolled onto his back and looked at the ceiling while asking Bast why he had to fall in love with the most stubborn woman. He finally pushed himself to sit up on the bed “what would you like to talk about Alix” she began to fidget as she normally did when they had to have a serious conversation

“ Why are you mad at me?” T’Challa chuckled then squinted his eyes trying to remember he loved the woman in front of him and to choose his words carefully.

“ You are kidding right? Or you just want me to say it.” He stared at her feeling his anger building.

“Alix, we are so supposed to be moving in less than three months. I am here bragging to David that I finally feel on the same page as you and that I can go to Wakanda without feeling that confusion that you have had me moving in since I found out that our daughter was a reality. Only for me to hear not from you, the woman I am making life plans with, but from your friend who says it thinking we are on the same page I think we are on, that you don’t plan on getting rid of the apartment.” T’Challa’s voice was suddenly getting louder as his word vomit began to take over. Alix slowly began to enter a shell. She hated when T’Challa was mad or felt hurt by her. She didn’t know how to deal with it because she knew he took so much from her and never complained. She never knew where to restart after he had reached the point of yelling. “The worst part is instead of you to talk to me after or trying to apologize for not expressing how you feel, you decided to coerce me like a baby into forgetting the whole situation. It upsets me that you take my favourite things and use them as a way to get what you want, but on a normal day you can’t just do it. And now that all I want to do is sleep this when your stubbornness kicks in and we have to have this conversation so let us have it then! Why in Bast name do you want to keep this apartment Alixandre?!” T’Challa finally finished and looked at Alix waiting for a response he was certain he knew the answer too. Alix could not even look him in the eye.

“ Well, we are going to visit and we will need a place to stay so, yeah.” She gave the lame excuse in full confidence because no matter what Alix would always put up a good fight. T’Challa closed his eyes before speaking.

“Okay, but we had discussed getting a larger place that would have more room for visitors and proper space for the baby. This apartment was meant for you alone. We are a family now so we need a family space do we not?”

“Yes, but.” T’Challa was growing more and more frustrated as the conversation went on.

“But what Alix? You know what, I don’t feel like playing this game anymore so I will answer for you. You are afraid to have a place where we both sign the lease right? This spot is still so much yours and for some reason if this does not work out, because you always seemed prepared for that option rather than trying to work it out, you would have a place to stay, correct? A place that is solely yours and not ours. A safe haven that doesn’t include me. Although I cannot even imagine my safe haven not being with you.” Alix was loss for words, she didn’t want to feel this way but she did and she didn’t know how to change it.

She opened her mouth a few times but no words ever followed. T’Challa stared at her looking as hurt as he felt. He really did not know what else he could say or do to convince the only woman he had loved like this that he did not plan on going anywhere and that his love for her only changed to grow. His eyes began to water from frustration and heartbreak. Abiona began to cry and he immediately got up to go to her so Alix wouldn’t see his tears. He was tired of being the one to reveal all of his emotions.

After soothing her back to sleep, T’Challa did not come back to bed. Alix got up to find him sleeping on the couch. Her chest felt as though there were a ton of bricks laying on it. She went back to her cold bed and let out a cry. She was upset at mostly herself for not allowing T’Challa into her heart. And now she may have finally pushed him away. He did say he would only leave if she told him to, and all she had been doing from the beginning was telling him she did not need him. She did not know what to do anymore. Her head ached as she cried herself to sleep.

Taglist:

@chaneajoyyy @writingmarvellousimagines @oceanscorazon @teechallas-blog @ashanti-notthesinger @wakanda-inspired @90sinspiredgirl @lovely-geek @fonville-designs @chefjessypooh @dopeegalkk

#Abiona AU #t'challa x reader #T'Challa #writingmarvellousimagines #part 5

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librationpoint · 5 years

Text

Kinktober ‘19 - 21 Bukkake

Day 21 - Bukkake Ray / the ears of people forced to travel with him 650 words about ways to make money with bodily fluids

"Have you ever considered how much sperm goes to waste around here? Like, even now, in the middle of a fucking war, this platoon alone probably produces it by the gallon. We're all big, strong men - yes, Brad, some are bigger and stronger than others, but even Walt isn't small - which has to mean big loads, and there's combat jacks happening every time we stop. Maybe even when we're not stopped. It's not like we can actually see what Walt's up to up there, he could be jerking it and none of us would know thanks to these fucking shit-ass NVGs. Try not to hit Trombley if you are, I don't want to die because of your poor aim."

Pause for breath.

"Anyways, there's all this sperm being fired off and not used. Is that the right word? Sperm's just part of it but it feels like there has to be a word for the whole deal. Jizz, obviously, but medical-like. Anyways, like I said, we've got a bunch of people who are super fit here, obviously top-grade genetic materials from that perspective, even Encino Man's really ripped once you get past all the idiocy. I mean, I'd want someone smarter, but if you're one of those psycho football dads he'd be perfect because there wouldn't be as much brain to damage in the first place. As a sperm donor, I mean. People pay a lot for that shit, and if we were just making use of our resources we'd be able to actually afford some fucking batteries and gun lube."

Another pause to avoid a pothole, not that anyone would appreciate it from how much bitching there was about his driving.

"Back home we've got to be turning out even more. Literal buckets. I don't know about you guys but even when I'm dating I still jack at least once a day, twice if I don’t get laid. I bet even if the fertility clinics got overwhelmed we could still do something with it. There's kinky people out there who love that shit. It's called buck cake or something Chinese like that. They get off on having hot, gooey man-love splashed onto their faces, the more the better. You could bottle up marine jizz, freeze it, and ship it off to these freaks and they could just nuke it and throw it on when they don't have time to find a few dozen guys to do it live."

Someone groaned.

"No, wait. Do it live. There's already all sorts of kinky-ass clubs out there, this would fit right in. These people get off on having someone shoot on their faces and being used as a human come rag. Or something, I don't claim to be an expert, the point is they'd probably pay for the convenience of not having to organize an orgy anytime they felt like being used and messy. The club could offer guys a free drink if they take a couple minutes to jerk off. It's a complete reversal of how it usually goes for us. Think about it. You go to some bar after work, whip out your cock, and stroke off onto some girl's face, and get paid for it. Or guy's face, I don't judge. Civilians, I mean, obviously I would have to judge if it was one of us on the receiving end if I recognized him. Or maybe not, does it still count as gay if you're not actually sucking cock or taking it up the ass? I'm not sure the UCMJ actually has anything to say on the topic of facials."

"Okay," Reporter said after a minute. "I didn't think it could happen, but this is so weird that if I write it down I'll get accused of making it up as anti-marine propaganda."

"Ray, next time we stop, you are getting some fucking sleep even if I have to put a choke hold on you."

#kinktober

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diningpageantry · 6 years

Text

But That’s It

Chapter 2 of Love You All, Die For This

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15909690/chapters/37269380

Word Count: 2161

Summary: A final confirming visit to the doctor's. Some doubts float around, and a tad of false hope for Simon.

Notes: once again, thank you to my betas @ravenclawbaz and @jessethejoyful !!!

BAZ

My hands trace around the steering wheel, feeling the leather glide across my palms as my fingertips tap to the music. It’s something of Simon’s choosing. I don’t mind The Strokes, really, but a song about a sexual dystopia without reproduction feels like an interesting pick for the ride to the doctor’s office. I won’t question him, though (I doubt he knows the connotations), because Crowley, he seems happy enough right now with that tattered, paint splatter smile strewn across his face as his head turns to look at me and hum along.

By the way he smiles, you’d think that we’re ready for anything. That the concept of a ‘No’ is out of the picture; that we’re both okay, and we will be.

That, deep down, I’m not egregiously nauseated by this visit. That my chest is ripping itself to shreds as my mind runs laps, reminding itself over and over that this is more than uncertain; if anything happens, it’s pure fucking luck.

Hell, it’s luck that we found a magickal doctor to confide in about the vampirism.

For Fiona’s sake, I can’t claim that we found the doctor; it was more of her threatening the living dead of London for a reliable name in the business, then word of mouth to another reliable name, to a doctor focused on magickal surrogacy. Fiona threatened to torch his practice to the ground if word leaks that I’m a vampire.

To avoid complication, it’s easier to say we found someone.

As we pull into the lot for his practice, I can’t help but move in faster, jerking motions. Park. Unbuckle. Step out. Slam the door. Look at Snow. Wait. Tap my foot impatiently. Jut out an arm and practically yank him inside, heart pattering faster and faster and faster and faster and—

The brush of Snow’s hands against my jaw stops me outside the glass doors, his sweet breath tickling the underside of my jaw as he looks up at me. “Hey,” he murmurs, eyes darting around my face as I straighten out more. Composure. Don’t lack composure, don’t let it slip, you’re in control— “Baz, darling, love, sweetheart, honeybee, baby, honey, calm down. You’re getting all ‘dark and brooding’ again, and you don’t have to be. This is just discussing logistics.”

My heart keeps pounding, but I exhale slowly, letting my features soften to his touch. “I’m just worried, that’s all.”

“I know.” A finger sweeps across my forehead, tucking a loose strand behind my ear as Snow presses his lips to my cheek. “But it’s not the end of the world, yeah? We’ll do this. I love you.”

“I love you too,” I reply automatically, finding his hand and giving it a warm squeeze as he drifts back to stand beside me. He guides me in, his presence as prominent as always; even without magick, Snow still garners attention from everyone in the room.

I trail behind comfortably, sending icy glares at anyone who looks too long. Sure, the tail and wings are spelled away, but I don’t want it blasted out to the entire magickal world that Natasha Pitch’s travesty of a gay (vampire) son and his now (mostly) Normal husband are trying for a baby.

It feels weird simply existing. For the entirety of November, we’re bombarded with emails from eager third years at Watford in their Magickal Histories class asking about our lives. I blame Mrs. Bunce for that; she’s got a unit on The Mage’s rise and fall of power, and Simon, Penny, and I encompass two of ten sections. While I agree that history should be taught, I disagree that we require so much attention for what we did. It wasn’t heroic, nor was it ‘brave’.

It was scarring.

My mind continues to wander around, spinning off the tracks thinking of what others will say once it’s known that we’re trying for a child, until Snow’s hand gives a tug to my own. We’re being called back. Shit. Fuck.

I jerk my head towards the door and stand briskly, arm wrapping protectively around Snow’s waist as we walk back to the office.

The incessant buzz of the fluorescent light greets us before anything else.

Off-beige rug. Typical seats (slightly discomforting green pads with a metal frame). A large wooden desk, organized to a T. There sits the doctor, head raising to meet us as he stands up. “Mr. and Mr. Pitch,” he says calmly, extending a hand. Soft spoken. Raised in power, raised with money.

I shake it first, then wave to Simon to shake. “Pleasure to meet you, Doctor Bradford,” I say coolly, eyes drifting around the room. Medical degree. Family pictures. Thank you notes. Mild-mannered, everyday man. Mundane.

Perfect.

He waves his arms, urging us to sit as he pulls our paperwork up and clears his throat. His eyes flicker over it nervously, and I can’t help but smile secretly. Whatever Fiona said to him must’ve gotten to him.

“Quite an interesting case,” Dr. Bradford states flatly, glancing back to us and clearing his throat. “Well, given your… condition… I have to admit, there’s a level of uncertainty.” The clacking at the keyboard stops abruptly, his chair swiveling as he faces us completely. His hands meet in the way that adults always do; folded together, palms pressed and holding so many words back as to not let you in; to keep you at bay.

It makes me want to throw a brick at his face. “My condition,” I draw, eyes carefully narrowing onto him as the words smooth around my mouth. He’s a target. I’m aiming my brick. “Yes, well, we are trying, nonetheless. I want to make that clear.” My back straightens, trying to press guilty words from my throat. Snow, forgive me. “We need a magickal child, or no child at all.”

The doctor simply nods, pursing his lips as he glances to Snow. Our grip tightens automatically. “I’m sorry for your loss,” the doctor says quietly, and I know that phrase. I know Snow knows that phrase. We both hear it in our sleep at this point; the pity smiles and hand pats. Everyone treats Snow as if a part of him died; it’s only socially acceptable to mention the dead part of him if in mourning. I barely hear him as he continues, my mind usually shuts off after those words (because they’re ridiculous, and a tad insensitive). “I’m sure it brings a strain, but, given the situation, would you care to share about any and all magick you have experienced post…” He’s clearly searching for the right word, lips drawn together tightly as the seconds tick. “Loss?”

I feel Snow’s neck bob without even seeing it; his signature ‘Words are hard’ swallow. “None,” he eventually lets out. His foot is rattling beneath him, and he’s squeezing my hand in a counting pattern. One two three, pause, one two three, pause. “Besides the appendages. Since there’s no blood test, no nothing to trace me back to magick or any sort of family, I guess all that’s left of magick in me is surface-deep.”

A brief moment passes, the doctor shifting the paper in front of him to align with the straight edge of the desk before clearing his throat. “While it’s only a hypothesis, it’s possible you carry magick as a dominant gene that was genetically mutated. This would leave you open to providing sperm as well, but it’s a risk that I’m unsure you’re willing to take.”

Snow’s eyes burn through me, but I keep mine locked to the paper on the desk. I can’t force myself to look at him, afraid of my reaction. It’s the false hope we’ve heard before; the idea that he has some sort of magick—some sort of something left in him. It’s not worth hyping. “I think it’d be best to not venture down that path.” My words tumble out of my gut rather than my head, spilling out in front of us and starching the air. My eyes keep transfixed.

Both heads turn to me, keeping there as the buzzing lights seem to grow louder, swallowing our thoughts. I don’t dare meet either of them. I beg, I plea internally that it’s dropped, that it’s left.

That it’s not our car ride conversation; that Snow won’t put any newfound hope into a basket and waltz it around until it shatters in his grip once again.

“Then we should consider how magick flows in your family,” the doctor breaks and lets me breathe again. I let my eyes drift back as Snow’s downcast to the floor in balance. “Do you know much about it?”

I exhale slowly, fingers drumming against Snow’s knuckles. “I know that both my mother and my aunt were powerful, but my mother was more so. I was her only child, and my father has power, but not quite as much. My step siblings are relatively strong, so I’d assume that anything I’d pass down would be of similar power.”

The doctor nods thoughtfully, writing it down. “You’ve already given sperm, correct?”

I nod, trying to swallow away the feeling that Snow’s already spiraling in silence.

“Good; you both signed everything, correct? As in, everything is in order, including the studies?”

I nod again, for the both of us this time. Crowley, Snow’s frozen. “Everything’s set on our part.”

Doctor Bradford glances between us swiftly before nodding curtly. “Yes, good. That should be all for now. We’ll contact you with information regarding the insemination.”

I skim over the niceties; the forced smile, the handshakes, the thank-you. I let them slip out of me as if I were on autopilot as I lead Snow out and into the car.

I take the moment to buckle him, eyes studying his face. He’s blinking. He’s there, but his body’s ahead of his mind.

His mind is across the trimmed grass nearby, nestling away from his consciousness. I want to spell him back. I want there to be a spell to bring him back.

The ride back begins as silent, then he nearly scares me half to death five minutes in with a brush of his hand against mine.

I pull over at the mere touch, eyes urgently flickering over my zombified husband. “Yes, love?” I urge out as calmly as possible.

There’s nothing more that I loathe than treating Snow like a scared animal; skittish and frozen with an over-beating heart. He’s pathetic like this; he’s the Snow who I nearly lost to a lash out and a four day bender all those years ago. The one I woke up to a phone call from at 4 am. A tired voice and a weak “Baz? I fucked up. I fucked up, I’m fucked up, I’m so scared, Baz, please. I’m—“

“That sucked,” he whispers, leaving me to uncontrollably burst out into a relieved sob-laugh as a hand shoots to my mouth to cover it. My dampening eyes barely push open to watch him start to snicker, biting down onto his lip.

I unbuckle impulsively and launch myself at him, arms throwing around him and dragging him closer to me. “Fucking hell, Snow, you were scaring me half to death. I was nearly sure you’d go off. Oh fuck, don’t do that again, I don’t know what to do without you here with me. Fuck.”

His laughter tickles my chest, leaving me feeling all swirly and woozy inside. Fuck. Fuckfuckingfuckfuckfuckingfuck. “I was just thinking, love. I’m okay, I promise. Sure, it hurts, but I’ve figured by now that it’s really gone, and nothing they say will help that. I’m okay, Baz. Sto—Baz, I’m okay.” His hands cup my jaw, wiping away the tears still streaming out. “I’m sorry, love, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

I cut him to a stop, pressing my face stubbornly into his neck as I cling to him, sink into him, stay with him. Lock him in, lock him close. Keep him, my Simon, close. “I love you, dear, but shut up.”

His body shakes with a laugh, fingers shifting through my hair comfortingly. I let myself indulge in his forehead-kisses and strokes of my upper back as I find myself, and try not to get lost again.

I sit up, sit back. He pats my thigh, rubbing it twice before taking my hand. “Take us home, please. I want to not think about that meeting as much as possible before anything else happens.”

I bite back my lip from a full smile, swallowing what was left of a sob as my back straightens. “Agreed.” My hand releases his, shifting from park to drive. “Do you want to rent a film?”

“Hm, sounds like a plan. It’s my pick, though.”

“Oh like hell I’m letting you put me through another old Bond film. It’s disgustingly heterosexual—“

“Fine, fine. We’re watching Kingsmen, then.”

I purse my lips, tapping the wheel a few times. “We’ll see about that.”

#carry on #fanfiction #snowbaz #simon snow #tyrannus basilton grimm-pitch #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #baz pitch #baz #simon #fanfic #fic #mine #chapter 2 #lyadft #update

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duncepatrick92 · 4 years

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