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I refuse to believe that Matoya isn't a lesbian

Refuse

matoya's fed up with gay cats taking up space in her cave😔

(full gpose + og image under the cut)

Posting this here too, in light of Everything™

Sweater vest attempt number two is going well

just me abusing my art degree and being Very Normal about G’raha again

New FFXIV fic: Finding G'raha

We sat in silence for a minute, enjoying the view together, before he cleared his throat. "What will you do when this is over?"

"Rest," I said instantly. "I hope," I added much more quietly.

There was a soft, sympathetic snort from beside me.

I decided to turn the question back on him. "What will you do when this is over?"

"When this is over? Indeed." The Exarch repeated, seeming genuinely surprised to be asked such a question. "I once told you there are things we can ill afford to lose. 'Things', I said, though in truth I spoke of a person. One who is unaware of the full extent of my plans. Though they deserve to know, I have good reason to keep my council. I have come to terms with this in my mind, but my heart yearns to lay everything bare. For they are my inspiration, and I would give much and more for the chance to speak with them as friends, with no thought of concealment."

He looked out over the water as he spoke, not meeting my gaze, which was just as well. Because with each word he spoke, I became more certain that my suspicion had been correct. G'raha Tia was the Exarch. 

I didn't know how he'd done it, how he'd even conceived of such a mad plan, but somehow the brilliant and brashly reckless researcher I'd met in Mor Dhona had accomplished a feat far beyond the scope of my wildest imaginings. My chest was suddenly far too small to contain my welter of feelings. Relief that he'd survived. Joy that we'd met again.

"Then, I would ask them about their next adventure," he continued, oblivious to the storm of emotion he'd sparked in me. "And if they should wish me to be a part of it, oh... how happy it would make me. Together, we would travel the lands and cross the seas and take to the skies upon the eternal wind... My heart swells simply to imagine it."

I stared at him, drinking in the sound of his voice like I was hearing it for the first time.

It had taken me so long to see past the devil-may-care attitude he'd cultivated when we met, to recognize him as a kindred spirit that I wanted a deeper connection with, and by then, we were busy preparing our assault on the World of Darkness. I'd naively planned on asking him how he felt when it was all over, only for G'raha to seal himself in the Tower before I thought to say anything.

I'd regretted it ever since. And yet, the Gods had granted me a second chance, because here he was, spilling his heart out to me, clearly feeling the same regret.

Read the whole thing on AO3

Welp. Since my demi ace ass had to write a fic about platonic fellatio once I'd thought of it...

New FFXIV fic: Can I suck your dick platonically? No romo.

Length: 5.3K words, (Eventual) very smutty smut Aymeric de Borel / Warrior of Light & Aymeric de Borel / Estinien Wyrmblood Excerpt below the cut:

My already-hard cock stirred, registering its interest in exploring the warm body we were curled around, since we couldn't remember doing it the first time. So, since my bed mate and I had presumably fucked already and today was going to be difficult enough without adding 'sexual frustration' to my long list of very potent woes, I squeezed my bed partner's waist and kissed their shoulder. "Good morning," I murmured.

They stirred and made a sleepy noise. When I ran my hand up one powerful flank, they shifted to press back against me with a noise that might have been interest.

I groaned, rutting against them as I curled my arm around their waist, and...

Look. I'm not proud of this, all right?

I was hung over from too much weeping and desperate for a small moment of bliss before I had to take up the mantle of the Warrior of Light once more. Which isn't an excuse for what happened next - groping someone who is asleep because they weren't immediately unreceptive is inexcusable, and I know that.

But, nevertheless, it's what I did.

I reached around to grip their cock through the soft fabric of their pajama pants, and found it just as hard as mine. My bed partner moaned and bucked against my hand, and I was just about to slip that hand under the waistband of their pants when I finally woke up enough to remember where I was and who I was with.

At which point I disengaged so hurriedly that I would have fallen out of bed if I wasn't on the side right against the wall.

"I'm so, so sorry," I stammered as I tried and was not able to put any amount of distance between us.

Gods, how had we managed to sleep in this tiny bed? Aymeric was so tall, and while I was short by the standards of my own people, I was still taller than Thancred. Even after flattening myself completely against the cold stone wall, there were still so many points of contact, and my only options for escape were either climbing over Aymeric (not an option) or out a second story window (rapidly becoming an option).

Aymeric turned around and caught my wrist before I could do more than brace my elbow on the window sill, and for a wonder his expression held nothing but understanding. "Anyone would have been disoriented after the circumstances of what you have just been through. Rest assured that I am not angry, and on my honor as a Knight I will tell no one of this."

I stared at him in wide-eyed shock, but finally I managed a hoarse "thank you".I must still have looked quite the madman - Aymeric released my wrist dubiously, as though he expected me to attempt escape through the window anyway - and there was an excruciating eternity of eye contact before he sighed. "One night of comfort does little to redress a debt that I can never repay. Would you allow me to. Ah. Provide you some... relief?"

Read the entire fic on AO3

Aymeric is the jock version of G'raha Tia.

Charismatic. From a distinguished lineage. Leader of a nation. OBSESSED WITH ME. Also, captain of the football team and Homecoming King.

So G'raha literally does dimensional time travel to save the WoL and STILL thinks he would never have a shot.

Meanwhile, Aymeric DEFINITELY at some point was like: hey can I suck your dick, like, platonically? No romo

i think i may have just realized why i have the hots for lestat de lioncourt

i think i may have just realized why i have the hots for lestat de lioncourt

Man, now I'm just obsessed with the idea of two bro besties like

"Bro, can I suck your dick, like, platonically? No romo." "You sure you don't mean 'no homo', bro?"

"Nah, bro. It'll be hella gay. I just want to suck your dick as friends is all."

"How can we be just friends if you're sucking my dick, bro?"

"I'm not looking for a relationship, bro. And you're a great friend, but I don't have romantic feelings for you."

"So why do you want to suck my dick, then?"

"Because you're hot, bro. And, like, you're a good friend who's going through some stuff and I want you to feel as special as you make me feel, bro."

"Broooooooo."

"I know, bro. Me too."

[fellatio ensues]

Aymeric is the jock version of G'raha Tia.

Charismatic. From a distinguished lineage. Leader of a nation. OBSESSED WITH ME. Also, captain of the football team and Homecoming King.

So G'raha literally does dimensional time travel to save the WoL and STILL thinks he would never have a shot.

Meanwhile, Aymeric DEFINITELY at some point was like: hey can I suck your dick, like, platonically? No romo

Aymeric is the jock version of G'raha Tia.

Charismatic. From a distinguished lineage. Leader of a nation. OBSESSED WITH ME. Also, captain of the football team and Homecoming King.

So G'raha literally does dimensional time travel to save the WoL and STILL thinks he would never have a shot.

Meanwhile, Aymeric DEFINITELY at some point was like: hey can I suck your dick, like, platonically? No romo

The horny fic that this is from is now finished on AO3!

I'm quite proud of this sentence:

"G'raha, the poor, sweet moron, looked as if he'd been hit over the head, as he always did when confronted with the undeniable fact that he was actually quite lovely."

You run a Bakery, just a normal bakery, the only problem is that your customers at midnight to 6AM are mythical creatures who pay with gemstones and ancient gold and silver coins

Listen, it was under duress

not beating the AFAB accusations by being an annoying harpy to hospital staff are you

Possibly the most fascinating piece of anon hate I’ve ever received. Posting it to represent pinning it up on my internet fridge with a magnet. True food for thought here.

I feel like Bruce Wayne projects the kind of amiable playboy 'fun' vibe that he'd be the type of celebrity that certain interviewers feel comfortable surprising with puppies.

You know the kind of shows I mean.

The late-night talk show situations where they're making benign small talk with their smiling guest, and there's a segment where animals get brought out, usually to talk about some sort of ecological relief effort.

So you're watching your trash TV talk show late at night, and you get to watch billionaire pretty boy Bruce Wayne be begrudgingly talked into holding a (relatively) harmless creature which inevitably gets a lot of delighted shrieks from the audience as it starts being a lot more active than the handler promised. And to his credit, Bruce doesn't flinch, he doesn't freak out. But his eyes are a little wide, and his voice a little tight as the smile on his face takes on a slight rictus quality before he's inevitably rescued by an apologetic handler who is also laughing because they all know there was no real danger, it was just funny to put Bruce, who is an undeniable good sport and already laughing along, out of his comfort zone for the sake of charity.

Meanwhile, up in the Justice League headquarters, several founding members of the League are wondering how fast they can get a fake Oscar award shipped to the space station because fuck off. Absolutely fuck off, Bruce. Where the fuck did he study? Juilliard? (Probably.)

(Clark ends up going to a novelty store during the commercial break. It's faster than trying to get anything shipped, even with the infrastructure Bats built for them. He finds it several days later taped to his console in a conspicuously empty briefing room. It's gaudy and awful, the words "Best Actor" engraved on the plaque. No one's around to see him smile. No one comments when it vanishes. Everyone thinks it's been yeeted out an airlock. Dick absolutely comments when it shows up in the manor, stashed in one of the trophy cases that sprung up for all the bat kids' school awards. Bruce has no idea how it got there. Must have been Alfred. (It was not.))

Anyway, consider, for your amusement, Bruce Wayne getting highjacked on The Gotham Toight Show with a handful of wriggling puppies and, for a split second, not having to pretend he's delighted to be there.

New FFXIV fic: Research: the Most Fun a Catboy Can Have Without Taking off His Clothes

Length: 2 chapters, 8.5K words total Alisaie (trans) / G'raha (trans) / Warrior of Light (non-binary) (Eventual) very smutty smut As always: (1) I don't care what the devs say, Alisaie is absolutely not 16. By 5.3, she'd be about 23. (2) In a world where no one is explicitly gay or trans, that means anyone can be.

- - -

Alisaie shifted and looked down at her hands. "I had several classes with Raha at the Studium, but we were never anything other than friends there. At that point, he still thought his precious Allagans could do no wrong, and he spent all his time with a nose in a book while I was always skipping classes. Then, when we met again in the First, he'd been the Exarch too long, and he was so paranoid and secretive. Not to mention the way he was always manipulating everyone around him."

"He had to," I felt obliged to point out. "The stakes were too high."

"They were," Alisaie acknowledged, then took a deep breath. "But this new Raha..." Her voice trailed off, and she shook her head, obviously unsure how to finish the sentence.

"He's like a fusion," I offered. "With the best qualities of both of the previous versions."

"Yes!" Alisaie's eyes flashed with relief as she looked up to meet my gaze. "He's... he's experienced. Confident. Not so desperately, irritatingly eager to prove himself, because he's already done it! And being able to set down the Exarch's mantle has made him so much more open and... trusting. He believes in everyone, and trusts people to do what they're good at." She sighed and scrubbed a hand over her face. "Hells, I don't think I'm doing a good job of explaining it."

"Believe me, I get it," I said, putting my hand over one of hers. "The new G'raha is walking competence porn."

Completely caught off guard, Alisaie burst out into loud peals of cackling laughter. Finally, she was able to wrestle back some control and gave me a conspiratorial grin as she wiped her eyes. "So what would you think of maybe making our V into a triangle?"

I grinned. "It would make my life a lot easier, honestly. It's been a bit awkward trying to juggle separate one-on-one time with everything that's been going on." I paused and leaned forward as I lowered my voice. "And assuming he's on board with it, I'd love to see that pretty cock of yours in his mouth while I fuck him."

Alisaie actually blushed. "So how should I... you know. Talk to him?"

"Wow," I drawled, grinning teasingly. "Look at you not marching up to him and flat out demanding to get your mouth on his junk. You must have it really bad."

"Shut up, you," she growled, turning an even brighter shade of red.

I widened my eyes innocently. "I thought you were looking for advice?"

There was a loud thunk as Alisaie banged her forehead on the table. "I hate you. I hate you so much."

"Too bad. Guess I'll just keep him to myself then."

Alisaie lifted her head and glared at me in a way that promised I would absolutely pay for this later. "Fine. Please. Give me some advice."

I smirked. "Offer to help him do research."

It was a struggle not to laugh at the dismay on her face. "I hate research."

"So do I. And yet, my advice stands."

Alisaie scowled at me suspiciously.

"You'll get to impress him with how many books you can carry," I teased.

"You're holding out on me," Alisaie hissed, poking me hard in the shoulder. "What aren't you telling me?"

I leaned forward and held her gaze as I dropped my voice to a whisper. "He always gets horny when he's really onto some hot bit of research, and he claims that getting fucked helps him put the pieces together faster."

Alisaie's face lit up like a Starlight Tree. "Really," she breathed.

"Oh yeah," I whispered back. "It sounds wild, but several times now I've fucked him over his desk, and then he's filled an entire blackboard with notes. Clearly something about it works for him. So I help fetch and carry the books he needs, which saves him time, and I bring something to work on when he doesn't need me. After a few hours, he starts babbling about something it would take three Doctorates to follow, and that's usually about when he starts begging me to fuck him."

Alisaie's was practically salivating by the time I finished. "How do I get myself invited to one of these sessions?" she asked, enthralled.

Read the whole thing on AO3

I don't want to fuck my mutuals but I'm pretty sure several of them would want to fuck each other

People are always talking about how distance is the only thing stopping then from having a big orgy with their mutuals, and maybe this is just my asexuality or my mutuals, but really I'd just go give them a hug and then hang out for an hour or two looking at their figurines or plushies or something.

I dunno. It seems the people I know on Tumblr need a hug and some time with a friend more than they need mind-blowing orgasms.

New Alt-Right Playbook! This one's on spurious claims and how they don't even need to be ARTICULATED to follow you around.

If you wanna keep this series coming out (and maybe help it come out a little faster) do please consider backing me on Patreon or subscribing to me on Nebula.

Transcript below the cut.

Say, for the sake of argument, you are the kind of progressive leftist with a platform who gets a share of harassment - seasonal or perennial - from reactionaries. In this situation, you will, inevitably, hear one who positions themself as a reasonable moderate ask, “Why Don’t You Respond To Criticism?”

There’s a lot going on in that question, more than is obvious, and it’s worth understanding.

First is that the question is not only directed at you. It exists as a marker, showing up in your Q&A’s, comment sections, or Twitter threads, to imply to anyone paying attention to you that there is some wealth of legitimate criticism you have long ignored. There may well be a specific point this person is referring to, but it’s often left unspecified or generalized, so that the content - and the quantity - of the criticism is left to audience imagination. It is meant to publicly undermine your legitimacy.

Second, it’s meant to make you question whether there is some legitimate criticism out there in the din of people screaming at you. You’re not perfect, and a knock-on effect of being harassed is you get numbed out, unable to discern good faith from bad, often removing yourself from the streams through which your peers used to correct you because of the endless flow of garbage coming through those channels now. But the only way to verify the ambiguous claim that there is criticism worth responding to is to once again strap on waders and climb in, which is often what your critic really wants.

Third, the question isn’t really “why don’t you respond to criticism?” Odds are, you do respond to some criticism. People in your position are often addressing or pre-empting criticism all the time, arguably too much. No, what this nonspecific question is really asking is, “Why don’t you respond to my criticism?” They’ll let it sound like you’ve been ignoring everyone, but they mean “why are you ignoring me?” They are going to insist you owe them a response, that their critique, regardless of your opinion of it, is valid, and demands immediate attention. Odds are there are dozens of people saying the same, all at once.

Fourth, odds are good that you have, in fact, addressed their specific complaint, but not in a manner they will accept. This one person’s criticism is likely not unique, you may have covered it somewhere in your output purely because you know what kind of arguments are getting thrown at you and you want to cover your bases. There’s a decent chance your critic doesn’t actually consume enough of your work to have seen it. But it’s maybe even more likely that they are aware of your counter-argument - possibly one of your fans directed them to it - but don’t consider a response legitimate unless it is directed at the critic. Covering it in a different context or on a different platform doesn’t count. They are owed a statement they can respond to directly, because they want the argument to continue. Really, the question is, “Why don’t you respond to my criticism on my terms?”

Finally, even if you did respond to them by name, it’s likely your response would still be disqualified. If you were to summarize their argument in any way, they would claim you are building a straw man. If you isolated any specific critique, or pointed to the cruelty that accompanied it, they would claim you’re cherry-picking. You must, it seems, first present the criticism, full and unabridged, before you may respond to it. Which is to say: the only “correct” way to respond to criticism is to platform the critic.

And there are dozens who expect this of you. Who will tear into you for not addressing, in meticulous detail, every single critique they’ve ever tossed your way, and, in the same breath, make fun of you for talking too much. Because they don’t want to move on from “Why Don’t You Respond to Criticism?” As a rhetorical tactic, it’s pretty ace. To announce, before the argument is even stated, that it is thus far undefeated? ::chef’s kiss:: Because any response you make will keep the focus on you and not their argument. “It’s not worth responding to.” “Well why should The Accused get to decide what is and isn’t worth responding to?” “I have responded, repeatedly.” “Well why didn’t you respond in this particular way?” None of this looks at whether the argument had any credibility to begin with, only at whether your rebuttal is following procedure.

Take, for example, the hypothetical criticism that you should not listen to me because I am just four eels in a trenchcoat. How would I respond to that? What can I say that isn’t exactly what four eels in a trenchcoat would say? “I’m not even wearing a trenchcoat”? Well, the first thing four eels would do when people start to catch on is wear hoodies. Show my birth certificate, saying I was born a single entity to a human mother at a weight four newborn eels wouldn’t add up to? Well, did that work for Obama? Or did the guy saying the birth certificate was fake get elected President? And, of course, anything I have to say about how fascism has evolved on the social internet is suspect if I can’t even prove I’m human. What do fish know?? We stayed at war with Iraq for seven years after the government announced the Weapons of Mass Destruction we were looking for never existed, and some people, to this day, still think we found them. What hope would I - a warm-blooded mammal who would make very mediocre sushi - stand in the face of that? [bell chime]

So, if you ever see this claim out in the wild, “why haven’t you responded to _____,” ask: do you know what _____ is, do you yourself agree it’s a valid question, and are you sure it hasn’t already been answered? And don’t repeat the question unless you’ve got three yesses.

Story idea that I still think would be funny:

A world where like 1% of the population is randomly born with some sort of superhuman or supernatural powers, but every culture forms their own, wholly different ideas about the concept. Americans have their superhero thing with costumes and code names, and are genuinely shocked that nobody else does that. The japanese language already has a whole classification system for different 'types' of superpowers, and also a specific term for an individual whose power cannot be fit into any specific class. This information is written onto on one's passport.

The french have no set vocabulary for any of this, and the same expressions are used for saying that someone is delightful company to be around, or talented in an art form or musical instrument, and to describe a person who can control electricity with their mind or turn any metal into a liquid. It depends on context clues and the tone of one's voice.

And somewhere in rural Georgia there is a guy who could just pick up a truck and throw it on the opposite side of a lake. The locals of his home region know that they can always come to Nikoloz if there's a cow or a piece of farm equipment stuck somewhere that cannot be moved by human strength alone. He'll help, and then go back home to feed his chickens. He could do a lot more with this power, but he doesn't want to, and if you suggest this to him, he will yeet you as well.

Snippets from Book 2 I'm particularly proud of

Editing Book 2 right now, and the massive suck of doing a second draft is at least sometimes mitigated by those moments where you come across a really clever bit. Here are some of the ones I'm really proud of. ---

Dee shook their head, overwhelmed by the prospect of being casually told to delete a good portion of what they’d spent a lot of money learning. “That… sounds hard. And like a lot of work.”

“It is,” Rav agreed cheerfully. “But when you find what it is you love to do—”

“You never work a day in your life?” Dee finished wearily.

Rav looked offended. “Hell no. I’m here to help you, not give you Insta platitudes. I was going to say that when you love what you make, that’s inevitably what people respond to the most.”

---

They aimed for casual and landed on cringe when they responded with, “that’s what friends are for.”

Corey blue-screened, which Dee decided was their cue to make way for a paying customer. “See you at five,” they called over their shoulder as they absconded with their thank-you pastry.

Dee berated themself for being weird the entire way back to their car. That’s what friends are for? What were they, some lovable scamp from a 20’s themed Broadway musical about newspaper-selling orphans?

---

“I mean. I’m not as good as you…” they disclaimed, breaking off in dismay when Rav rolled his eyes.

“Okay, first - we’re completely different artists. Second, take the compliment, okay? I was walking around the whole time and you still captured a lot of detail and got a really good likeness.” Dee’s embarrassment only increased when he pulled out his phone and snapped a photo.

“But. You’re not..” They sputtered as they watched him send it to Aspen, only for their cousin to respond immediately with several sparkling heart emojis.

Rav gave them a quelling look. “You’re going to be praised and you’re going to like it.”

It wasn’t exactly possible to slide down in their seat while sitting on a backless stool, but Dee gave it their best shot anyway. “Um. Thank you?”

I'm quite proud of this sentence:

"G'raha, the poor, sweet moron, looked as if he'd been hit over the head, as he always did when confronted with the undeniable fact that he was actually quite lovely."

Whereabouts do you live, roughly speaking, and what drew you to that place in particular?

I'm in Michigan, and that's as specifically as I will answer that question! We have really lethal lakes.

Comment Day is a celebration of leaving comments on beloved fic! We want both to tell the author what their work means to us, and to appreciate reflecting on works we enjoy! Commenting is a unique feature of fic reading, and we want to have fun with it.

Fic writers: You can write porn without plot

Me, a demisexual, writing my own fics: 2K words before anyone even SEES a dick, MINIMUM.

Just me and a friend making G'raha's backstory a lot funnier

Working on a fic about G'raha and Alisaie falling in lust with each other after G'raha's return from the First, and am amused by where a chain of logic took me. First, my headcanon is that G'raha is trans, as is Alisaie, because if NO ONE is explicitly gay or trans, then anyone can be. No I will not take questions on this point. Second. Transition would have been pretty easy at the Studium. None of the professors give a fuck about your gender as long as your assignments are on time and your research is sourced correctly. So G'raha transitions quickly and seamlessly after arriving in Sharlyan because less time lost to dysphoria = more time for books.

Third. For most trans mascs, T horniness is A Fucking Thing[1]. Unlike Alisaie, who who sucked lots of dick[2] because she liked it, G'raha would have seen this horniness as an imposition. He transitioned so he'd have more time to read, after all.

Fourth. because he's far from the only nerd whose sexuality is "books" at the Studium, G'raha would have ended up with a circle of acquaintances who were willing to discreetly give each other "relief" in the library so they didn't have to interrupt their research.

CONCLUSION. Because G'raha is both a massive overachiever AND a people-pleaser AND a messy bottom, he got really good at letting people fuck his throat.

- - -

[1] I mean, I'm 95% asexual and the T horniness is hitting HARD, which is why I've spent all my time for the past week thinking about G'raha and Alisaie sucking my WoL's dick.

[2] From my previous fic: "Shut up and let me suck your dick, already" She leaned forward, arms crossed. "I've known you a long time, Warrior of Light, and I'm positive that I've had more sexual partners than you," she said, clearly trying to shock me.

It worked. "What... I mean. How--"

She cut me off with another of her edged smiles. "You only sleep with people you have a strong bond with. I, on the other hand, have sucked so. Many. Dicks." She paused for emphasis, fluttered her eyelashes at me, and slowly licked her lips. "And I'm very good at it."

Trying not to think of Alisaie's pretty mouth wrapped around my cock was like not thinking about a pink elephant - utterly impossible once the image had been conjured. I held myself utterly still, trying not to react to the dizzying rush of arousal I felt as my pants suddenly grew far too tight. Unfortunately, my lack of rebuttal only gave her room to press her advantage.

Alisaie held my gaze as she raised a finger to her lips and delicately circled the tip with her tongue before sucking it into her mouth with a soft slurping noise.

Oh Gods oh Gods oh Gods.

My face was on fire. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think of anything but the fantasy of blue eyes on mine as my cock sunk into the wet heat of her mouth.

Alisaie slowly withdrew her finger, then pointedly looked down at the ridge of my erection, which was starkly visible through the pristine white pants I loved wearing with my Red Mage's coat. "Hmm."

(Read the whole thing on AO3)