I Refuse To Believe That Matoya Isn't A Lesbian

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)

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

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.

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 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.