#// if ur wondering what kind of person grey is

[mysterycitrus]

I know a lot of ppl ask u abt jason or dick but im wondering now, what do u think about bruce? I find him a very interesting character whose characterization is incredibly feeble, both bc of his 80 years of history and the tendency writers have to project their own male fantasies on him. So i'd definitely love to hear ur own thoughts about him. I personally enjoy depicting him as someone morally grey, although my sympatization for him changes day to day. Wether you think he is a good or a bad person, i believe u need to make him dedicated to gotham and the bat as a symbol, and that comes with all its advantages and drawbacks

bruce wayne is sooooo interesting (derogatory) because like u said, he carries the baggage of every masochismo author that decided batman was too woke and should hurt his kids and that supporting gotham’s infrastructure is for pussies. there’s also the flipside of that, where he’s the perfect father who’s waaaay too emotionally regulated for my taste. both of these interpretations are bad imo, and both functionally miss the point.

i think part of this (in fandom) is an obsession with moral angst — u can either be a good person doing good things, or a bad person doing bad things. think about how some characters are crucified while others are babied. someone always has to be absolutely right, and the other has to be absolutely wrong.

in reality, there are a lot of people who are fundamentally kind and fundamentally want to do good that are really terrible to the people in their lives. bruce wayne being someone who relies on having so much control that it implodes his connections to the people around him is an important part of his character. his profound love for his children, for gotham and her people, for humanity in general and his belief in peoples ability to change, doesn’t circumvent the fact that he’s often an emotionally abusive man who hurts others to achieve his own ends. he contains multitudes.

writing him as a functionally irredeemable, violently abusive person is the anti-thesis to the symbol that he himself created. no, i personally don’t believe he actively beats his kids (even though it’s supported in the text). no, i don’t think he’s an irredeemable sadist (as much as frank miller wants u to believe otherwise). to have people like dick grayson and diana and clark and dinah love and believe in u means that there has to be something there worth caring about, otherwise the whole universe is gonna fall apart.

that’s what makes his relationship to cass so interesting — he sees his neuroticism, his dedication to the cause above all else, and does not find it admirable. he finds it confronting and upsetting. and to be clear, cass (like dick) is very much the moral ideal of what batman should be, but still bruce finds it hard to deal with!!

his abject failures — his treatment of the robins, his crippling guilt about jason, his fears of becoming a killer, the impossible load he gives himself to carry — means that when he’s shown as someone who genuinely cares, it makes him more complex. like yeah, bruce isn’t actually a cold hearted person. he really really gives a shit. too many shits, to be totally honest. he’s a morally grey person that wants to do good, but is so terrified of losing control that he keeps others away and hurts them in the process. there’s a reason why his emotional crutch was a traumatised eight year old fr. nothing is more important than the mission, including bruce wayne himself

[izgnanik-a]

Some more trans Ghoap? Previous fic link here

Thank you to the lovely anon who loved it so much to send me an ask for more in the funniest way. I love that you loved it.

Cw: mutual pining, sexual tension, fingering, toys, semi-public sex, more frotting, slight dom/sub, Johnny’s a pleasure dom, ftm!Simon

// Don’t like?? Don’t read // MDNI //

Having Johnny’s number meant the ball was in Simon’s court to contact him. He gave him his number because they’d had a good night, a great night even, though it was embarrassingly short.

Simon ran through his thoughts the morning soon after, realizing he probably seemed so pathetic. Cumming from humping this guy with clothes on, and then falling asleep??

He needed to move out of town ASAP.

Simon let a few days pass, anxiously eyeing the note every time he’d sit in his living room, or even staring at it from the kitchen. He’d stand at the counter, eyeing the vibrant thing until it imprinted into his mind.

What harm would come from texting Johnny back? He obviously showed interest in Simon, regardless of their night together.

And they hadn’t even gotten to the good part where Johnny’s hands would be all over him. Didn’t even get to the part where Johnny’s mouth was supposed to run through the folds of his cunt.

Fucking idiot.

Simon finally sat at the coffee table, a full week later, the night of the club event again, sticky note in hand, phone in the other. He contemplated if any of this was a good idea; bringing a stranger to his own apartment was risky but so was going to someone’s house.

But he was apparently desperate, and had no other options but a big Scottish guy who was a dirty talker and good with shoving his tongue down Simon’s throat.

He input the number into his contacts, sitting with a draft message open in front of him. He didn’t know what to say. Sup? Hey? It’s Simon? Nothing. He was so embarrassed by their last encounter that he would rather never show his face at the club again, never call.

Simon bit his tongue as he sent a shotty text of hey, and stared at the screen. He’d make himself a cup of tea, take a shower, let the message linger before he’d return to it.

The moment his hand touched the kettle —

DING.

He stared across the room to his phone on the table from the kitchen doorway. He clutched his hands into fists before moving for it. Staring at the lock screen, he eyed the message.

Took u long enough.

Simon paused, plucking it up. Do you even know if you’re texting the right person? He watched the bubbles appear and disappear.

I’m sure I am. ;)

Simon began to wonder just how many people Johnny had wooed like this at the club. How many people had fallen in Simon’s exact steps. There was technically no ulterior motive besides getting fucked — so there was no harm in playing the game, right?

Simon humored. Okay then — what color are my eyes?

There was a long pause, long enough for Simon’s kettle to whistle. His phone chirped.

Blue.

Lucky guess. Simon sat down on the couch. Half of England has blue eyes.

Then don’t ask stupid questions. Ur smarter than this. He replied.

Simon was taken aback. Johnny was blunt, but not overly critical. Maybe this wasn’t Johnny. He leaned forward in his seat. Fine. He sent. What’d we do when we left the club?

It would come out in truth whether or not Johnny was a one person at a time kind of guy, or if he really thought that Simon was just some stupid bloke.

We went back to urs, and u fucked urself on my hip. I told u how much of a good boy u were, and u came in ur pants before I could eat u out.

Simon didn’t want to show his face at the club so he skipped this week. He received a text from Johnny asking where he was, when he had lied and said he was going out with a friend, he had received a “ :( “ and “ be safe .”

The next day he received a good morning text and a soft looking selfie from Johnny; the orange hue of sunlight came in through his bedroom, dark grey sheets and blankets, his hair ruffled, sleep in his eyes. He was shirtless, tattoos creeping where the camera couldn’t fully see. But Simon outlined the roundness of his cheeks, the cushion of his chest, the absolute beauty of this man.

God — he could touch himself raw.

He sent a flimsy good morning message back, and proceeded with his day. Dinner came, and Johnny sent another photo. He was sat by candlelight, face red, and a wine glass in front of him being the culprit. His chin was leaned on his palm, pouty frown on his face.

Wish u were here.

Simon felt flushed. This man was lusting after him, and he was just feeding Johnny scraps. What would he even do if he had Johnny in front of him again?

Simon sent, how much have you had to drink?

Enough. Came back almost too quickly.

Are you driving home? Simon wondered who Johnny had gone out with. Was it with his friends? Another date? Another—?

Another date would have to reference to having gone on a date with Johnny. Simon hadn’t ever gone out with him. Only used him as a scratching post to get his rocks off.

Came with friends. Still wish u were here.

Simon started to think if he did something heroic, like showing up to where Johnny was, sweeping him into his arms, and took him home — would it get him laid.

He shouldn’t be so selfish. The man was drunk off wine. He wouldn’t take advantage of him like that.

Lmk when you get home safe. Simon sent and let his phone ding for the rest of the night. He regretted doing so when he woke up.

Waking up to drunk messages from Johnny was a handful to sort through. Half written messages, horribly written ones, and a singular photo.

Simon’s mouth was dry; Johnny was laying on his bed, shirt shucked up between his teeth, the bottom of a tattoo under his pecs showing. The hairy expanse of his stomach and happy trail showing, pants unbuttoned and pulled open to show his briefs. Johnny’s hand was holding the bulge of his cock in his pants.

The message underneath read wish u were here bad.

Simon felt his cunt throbbing perversely. He felt all urges to leave the house vanish, and all he wanted to do was touch himself like Johnny was in the photo.

It had been the last thing Johnny sent, but there wasn’t much thought to why. Simon contemplated but didn’t fight himself long before he was moving for his bedroom, unbuckling his button, and pulling the curtains over the windows before sliding his pants off.

He grabbed his silicon dildo from his closet along with his lube, situating himself up by the pillows before pouring a drizzle of lube on his fingers. He slipped his fingers between his thighs, already warm and soft under his touch. He kept the photo on his screen as he touched his clit, glancing over when he lost focus on why he’d been so bothered.

He imagined it was Johnny touching him, but he wouldn’t be so desperate and quick. Johnny would praise him, run his hands up and down his thighs as he shoved his tongue down his throat. He’d makeout with Simon until he was throbbing in his jeans, grinding himself into Simon’s hot cunt, and still refuse Simon relief.

He wouldn’t aggressively rub Simon’s clit. He’d run his fingers over his mons, along his outer lips and work his way down. Maybe he’d even eat Simon out. He’d get so cock drunk that he wouldn’t even put his fingers into Simon until he was begging him, writhing, squeezing his face between his thighs. He go at it for hours.

He wouldn’t keep shoving his cock head into Simon’s cunt to the point where it was burning. He’d make sure Simon was gushing pre before lubing himself up, and he’d play with Simon’s clit. Tease him with his tip, pushing it between his folds, and running it back over his mons. Just making a mess.

Then he’d lean over, whisper sweet things in his ear as he was pushing in.

“You’re doing so well for me. Such a sweet boy.”

“So soft. I can’t stand the way you feel under my hands. It’s too good.”

“I wish you could see the way you’re taking me. Splitting open on my cock, panting so hard, and I haven’t even gotten all of it in.”

“I love the way you clench when I play with your clit. Pushing yourself on my cock to take the rest of it. So greedy.”

“Such a good boy for me. Only for me. Say it, sweet thing. You’re mine, aren’t you? Yeah?”

Simon fucked himself down on his dildo as he rubbed his clit, eyes shut, mouth open, grinding until it pushed up against his front wall, lighting up stars in his eyes.

“That’s it. Good boy. Of course you needed something to grind up against. Be sweet for me and cum, using me as a toy to get off.”

Simon moaned painfully as he orgasmed, sitting on the full length of his dildo as he slumped down on his shoulders and knees. He grimaced as he dragged his fingers over his clit to feel the lingering shock of his orgasm. Like the masochist he was, he kept rubbing until he was jerking away from his own touch.

Sliding until he was belly down on the bed, he pressed his forehead into the sheets as he took deep breaths. Dildo abandoned behind him, covered in lube and his own excrements.

All his time was becoming occupied with obsessing over this man, over this Scottish devil who teased him and praised him. He should feel sick for doing such ludicrous acts.

But he couldn’t bring himself to take the shame he was being handed.

The photo was left without another word. No acknowledgment that it ever happened. Come the night of the queer event, and Simon was sitting in his seat with a drink in hand. He knew Johnny would come, because he’d asked, practically begged him for an answer, and he was jittery with nerves.

He’d jerked off more times than necessary to Johnny’s photo, a teasing non-nude photo, the prerequisite of promised sex. There would be no slowing down when Simon got his hands on that man. He’d tear him apart in the bathroom stall if he had to.

Simon couldn’t see the front door so he was left to wonder if Johnny was really coming. Would he come? Would he treat Simon differently? Would he cling to Simon, keep him under his arm, and drag him this way and that way all night? Or would he just take Simon to some quiet spot and finish what he was promised?

Simon was lost in thought as a crowd was closing in on the other side of the bar. He looked up from his drink.

From across the bar, the low LED lights underneath painted the high points of Johnny’s face in red, like some lucrative predator. He kept his eyes on Simon, making sure his prey didn’t run off before he could sink his teeth in.

The air felt electric, and Simon was buzzing again.

All he could think about was the photo, and the desperate ache of Simon’s thighs every night he rode his poor dildo.

Johnny rounded the bar, and Simon tried to brace his dignity before Johnny yanked it out from under his feet. His hand slid along the back of Simon’s shoulders before it wrapped around his waist, his chest pressed to his spine, cheek to Simon’s neck. The hug was as intimate as fucking was, but it was careful, stomping the line between friends and fuck buddies.

“Hel-lo sailor.” Johnny purred against the side of Simon’s face, giving a chaste kiss to his cheek before pulling himself aside. Not far enough to give Simon space, but enough to press his chest to Simon’s arm, facing him while standing between the bar stools. “You’re here early.”

“Spying on me?”

“No.” Johnny trailed off with a seductive smirk, sliding into the seat beside Simon, still facing him. His thighs bracketing Simon’s body. “What’re you drinking?”

“Vodka.”

“In a weekday?” Johnny guffawed. “I didn’t know you were the type.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

Johnny smiled, leaning in on the back of Simon’s chair. “Oh yeah? Care to share?” He hovered in Simon’s space, and he was just choking on his spit.

Simon watched him peer at his lips, and back up to his eyes. “Got a light?”

Johnny was all hands and tongue and teeth. His body was plush up against Simon’s, keeping him pinned up against some stranger’s car in the dark of the parking lot.

Simon let his head tip back against the roof of the car as Johnny bit all along his throat, mouthing and nipping along his collar. Simon gasped as Johnny managed to get a thigh between his legs, searching until he got the right angle and—

Simon whined out loudly, like a kicked puppy, and clenched his mouth shut when Johnny pressed down on him.

“Feels that good, huh?” Johnny pressed his smiling lips to Simon’s cheek, holding the other side of his face. “Go on, ride it like last time.”

Simon’s face was hot red. He was driven by carnal desire and nothing more. He couldn’t explain why his thoughts left him. All he knew was how to listen.

And grind he did.

Simon gripped the back of Johnny’s neck, pressing his cheek to his bicep, and grinding his clothed cunt until he felt raw. Until his hips were giving desperate humps, meeting Johnny’s hips before bumping the side of the car.

Johnny’s hands were soothing down his back, over his hips, guiding him, and slipping into his back pockets to cup his ass. He found amusement in Simon’s empty headed lust.

His lips pressed up against Simon’s ear. “Do you want my help?” He hummed, crushing Simon’s body to the cool glass of the car again. He collected Simon’s face in his hands, looking into his eyes. “You want my hands?”

Simon panted over his wet mouth, clarifying finding him in moments of need. “Yes.”

“Yeah?” Johnny smiled, “Unbuckle your pants for me.”

Simon gulped, licking his lips, and let his hands fist in Johnny’s shirt at his sides. “Not here.”

Johnny glanced around, and shoved his hand in his pocket between them to find his car keys. He unlocked his car, underneath Simon, and reached for the handle. “Inside.”

They shuffled into the small backseat, bumping into each other within the confined space, and Simon ended up straddling over Johnny’s lap.

“I think I liked outside better.” Johnny joked, kissing Simon into silence. His hands smoothed along his thighs, squeezing his ass. “But this is fine too.”

Simon kissed down Johnny’s throat, biting his neck as he did, and kissed his collar before there was a hand in his hair bringing him up again.

“I like kissing you.” Johnny said.

“Then stop talking.”

Johnny smiled, one hand dragging underneath Simon’s shirt. “But I want to have my mouth on other parts of you.”

Simon gave a high sigh when Johnny kissed him again. Simon ran his hands down Johnny’s chest to his stomach. Teasing at his belly, feeling his happy trail, and waistband.

Johnny gazed up at him with soft eyes, “You can unbuckle my pants if you’d like.” He whispered.

“Why would I want to do that?” Simon teased.

“Maybe you’re curious.”

Simon scoffed. “Curious?”

“Because I didn’t send you the photo I wanted to the other night.”

Simon felt hot, maybe it was because the air in the car was growing thicker or because Johnny was a literal heater under him.

“You never text me back.” Johnny smirked.

“What was I supposed to say?” Simon huffed.

“A compliment would have been nice.”

“You come off as cocky, you know that?”

Johnny hummed as he leaned in to kiss Simon’s mouth again, reaching between them to unbutton his own pants. The sound of his zipper slipping down made both men look down between them. Johnny leaned back in his seat. “You next.”

Simon hesitated. Sat in the lap of a very hungry beast, he hated to steal its dinner. “There’s something I have to say first.”

“Okay.” Johnny sat closer, putting his hands on Simon’s hips.

Before Johnny’s mouth could silence him, he shouted into the hot silence. “I’m trans!”

Both men stared at each other at the intrusive utterance.

Simon felt his heart suddenly shifting to blare in his ears when Johnny stared up at him. He felt like his breath was too loud, panting too heavy, holding Johnny too softly.

“Okay.” Johnny said plainly. And his hands began petting Simon again, smoothing up and down his waist. “Do you want me to stop?”

Simon didn’t even answer. He was launched by the reassuring question, sinking his mouth into Johnny’s again. He unbuttoned his pants, desperately trying to shove them lower so he could get his underwear down enough.

The dripping smell of his hot cunt filled the space, making Johnny seem less interested than he was.

Simon’s hands were collecting one of Johnny’s off his hip, bringing it to his stomach, dragging downward to his thighs. He panted over Johnny’s mouth as he took his sweet time to Simon’s cunt.

He had a teasing twinkle in his eyes when he parted his fingers, deliberately touching Simon’s pubic hair and outer labia instead of his warmer tip.

Simon grit his teeth, gripping Johnny’s wrist. “Just fucking do it already.” He growled.

“I can’t help it. I like the way you look.”

And Simon must’ve looked like a freak; pants pulled down under his cunt, half way sitting in Johnny’s lap, half straining his thighs as he arched his ass back between the seats. His head bumping the ceiling, hands clutched Johnny’s body like some soul eating creature.

Simon relished the moment Johnny’s two fingers were closing around his swollen tip, gently tugging and stroking him between his fingers. Simon fucked into hand, panting and shaking as he held himself up.

Johnny clutched the bottom of his jaw, making him look into his eyes as he played with his tip. “Look at you. Sweet—sweet boy. You’re so big in my hands. Practically drooling into my palm.”

Simon tried to tuck his face down but Johnny kept him firm.

“You’ve been like this all night?” He pulled Simon’s face in, ghosting his tongue along his bottom lip. “Poor thing. Were you thinking about the photo? Would you like to know what got me hot that night?”

Simon whined as Johnny cupped him, nulling his chances of grinding against his palm.

Johnny mouthed in his ear. “I was thinking about eating you out, all night. And I couldn’t stop thinking about you absolutely loving it.”

Simon began moaning desperately, muffling it into Johnny’s shoulder as Johnny rubbed his palm against Simon’s clit. His fingers rubbing past his hole, making an absolute mess of him. He rocked his hips against Johnny’s every stroke, breath getting higher and higher.

“There you go. Make a mess of me, sweet thing.” Johnny held the back of Simon’s head, keeping his lips on his cheek. “I’ll suck you off dry and then maybe you can fuck me.”

Simon was seeing black spots in his vision as his eyes were rolling back. He clutched to Johnny’s wrist as he whined in agony, orgasming the hardest he has alone, and still forcing himself to grind against Johnny’s stagnant hand until he was crying from overstimulation.

He felt his cunt throbbing, his head pounding, and—Johnny’s soft hand on his thigh. He soothed his hand up to his hip, and down to where his jeans cut off access. Then up again. He didn’t usher Simon along, didn’t redirect him to a more comfortable spot yet, just soaking in the blissful moment.

Simon moved first. Sitting his bare ass on the backseat, his knees resting in Johnny’s lap, head against the glass of the door. He shut his eyes, parched again. His pants were still tangled around his thighs.

Johnny squeezed his calves softly.

Watching him, Johnny made no effort to get Simon out of his car. He was quite content with squeezing up and down Simon’s calves, rubbing his thumb into each ankle, and up to his thighs. He gave him a soft look before smiling, his thumb stroking the skin of his thigh underneath.

“Why do you do that?” Simon asked.

“Do what?”

“Touch me.”

“I like to.”

“You’re always touching me.”

“I like to.”

“Why?”

Johnny shrugged. “You’re attractive. Though your humor is really dry.”

“Alright.” Simon began tugging his pants up. “Times up. I won’t be insulted by you.”

Johnny laughed, leaning over to trap Simon against the door with a kiss. He smiled down at him, “I like you.”

Simon glanced between his eyes with bewilderment. “You don’t know me.”

“I want to.”

Simon shook his head softly. For a man who just got a handjob, he really was something else. Maybe he was always this dumb, or maybe it was just the endorphins. Johnny liked that.

“I’m a really good cook.” Johnny insisted.

“I bet you’re a lousy cook.”

“Let me cook for you, and we’ll see.”

“What if it’s a flop?”

“Then we stick to handjobs in parking lots.” Johnny stated.

“I’m not doing this in your backseat again.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Johnny stared down at Simon, smile slowly growing more and more on his face.

“You’re unattractive when you smile.” Simon lied.

“You’re attractive when you cum. I want to see you do it again.”

next chapter?? maybe??

fic masterlist link

tf141 masterlist link

[fluxweeed]

Hii, I just discovered your fics and am reading my way through them. Love, love, love the ones I’ve read so far.😊 I was just wondering what your favourite Draco is you’ve written, and what your fave Draco is in fics written by others? ☺️

ACK thank you!! what a question!! i've considered this v carefully and it turns out i have………a lot of thoughts. i will keep them under a cut so nobody is accosted with a full 700 words of my Draco Opinions 😂 so my quick answer is:

my fave draco i've written: the taste of țuică my fave draco ever: rookie moves by peu_a_peu

draco is an interesting one for me bc i don't really LIKE him? but i have sooo many feelings about him. really not sure i could summon the same fervour for harry, for example, who is my number one boy forever and always.

(i saw a thing once that said a pairing becomes ur otp when u relate to one of the characters and want to fuck the other one, and 🙈 i mean, i think you're supposed to relate to the gryffindor, aren't you. whoops.)

OKAY SO HERE'S THE UNHINGED DRACO MALFOY ESSAY BY FLUX W. EED.

listen. i love and respect people who are Refined Draco enjoyers. connoisseurs of redemption arcs. appreciators of majestic malfoy bone structure and ethereal grey eyes and soft windswept hair. fans of dracos who insult harry (with hidden affection) and who are a bit snobbish (in a rich, sexy way) but ultimately have realised the error of their teenage years and have become a better person. perhaps this draco has built a potions business and helps the aurors. perhaps he IS an auror. either way, he has a biting sense of humour, maybe, but he's a good guy.

unfortunately, the draco of my heart is a horrid mean little rat man.

i've never actually managed to write him the way i love him. i tried to aim for immoral bastardy in what's mine is yours but i got so caught up in trying to nail the feelsforbreakfast-style humour in the narrative that i ended up focusing much more on that and much less on writing genuine bastardhood.

i've written him as reserved and clever (in the four doors – this draco was written entirely for @jovialobservationanchor, who had a weak spot for closed-off academics with soft centres) and as a traumatised self-loathing mess (in two to lie and to some extent for lack of wanting and say no to this) and hopelessly sexually/emotionally horny for one harry james potter (in, um, most things) but i've never managed to capture the genuine cruel streak and flawed personality that is sooo so important to me.

WHICH IS WHY i picked țuică!draco for my favourite of the ones i've written. he's still a bit too emotionally intelligent to be Just Right, imo, but i think he's maybe the closest? he's unrepentantly rude to people. he's not attractive. and he has a streak of self-destructive fucked-upedness that is some form of wartime guilt, but certainly not a pretty one.

HOWEVER. rookie moves?? NAILED it. i adooored how genuinely fuckin MEAN he is, even tho he's an auror. i love love LOVED that he's kind of bad at his job in a way that's in complete opposition to how drarry!draco is often written these days:

The look on Malfoy’s face was not only troubling, Harry realized, but familiar. At once activated and dead behind the eyes, like an invasive species in an ecosystem that could not check it. It was the look of the meanest fucking teenager Harry had ever known, giving in to his urge to bully.

-

What Malfoy wasn’t good with was people. Despite his repeated insistences that his upbringing had equipped him with impeccable manners and a facility with society intrigue, the truth was that he rubbed almost everyone the wrong way. He was, undeniably, annoying. Witnesses were put off by his snide, dismissive tone, and he didn’t know how to coax out information with curiosity, warmth, or strategic silence.

that's not to say unrepentant cunt draco is the only one for me!! i DO enjoy the classic redeemed drarry draco!! i love a quirky draco, à la wwpwcs or maya's drop dead gorgeous. gallaplacidia's draco is sooo painful for me to read (complimentary) that even though i adore her fics, i still haven't read them all bc i have to space them out, for my health. and i'm sure there are dozens more dracos that i'm forgetting how much i like – basically, as long as he isn't super suave, absolutely gorgeous and/or obviously tom felton, i'm on board.

[sungbeam]

BIRB LORE TIME! (the last installment of yumi's uh idkwhatitis)

here's Lea. african grey parrot (did you know all african greys look exactly the same like there's no way i can recognise her if she's with another parrot sfkdjghdf)

we got her in 2016 when she was 11. her previous owners were moving and they wanted to give her to someone who would genuinely take care of her. they knew my dad and he went ahead and said his daughter (me) has a thing for the animal kingdom 💀 (true tho) and she is prob the right person

anyways we went to their place, met her and oh. i knew absolutely nothing about these parrots right. we took her to our home and they just told us what to feed her, how she plays, what she likes and dislikes, etc.

so african greys are very intelligent and bruh. this female sounds like an absolute MAN when she speaks the human tongue (i actually got scared when she first said something LOL). the previous owners were like a mom and two daughters and her daughters were babies when she got this parrot so they didn't train lea. bc of that, she does not really know how to fly/land and since she's spent basically all life in the cage, it's her safe territory now and she does not like to come out

she was also not used to men bc she lived with ladies and then here she is with my dad and big bro (my lil bro was like 10 so she was comfy around him) but she was the type to not speak in front of men AT ALL

anyways i did my research, we all did we've come a really, really long way. her comfy zone is very wide now. she's come from only sticking to certain foods (her fav chips, a few fruits and nuts) to basically eating and trying everything (she doesn't even look at her chips anymore) (the look on her face when she first tried a mango and loved it is sth i'll never forget). she now talks in front of everyone (parrots talk when they are happy so ig she's happy here :'))

from letting us barely pet her neck to now getting full body massages and letting me preen her (I FEEL LIKE HER MOTHER). from wanting to bite us to affectionately pretending to bite me now (im her fav human, no one else can try this). from getting sick every season bc she was used to a certain temperature to thriving in every season while we get sick LOL

i think it's time i start to get her to come out her cage. it's gonna be a very slow process since i'm not a professional and it's gonna be only her and me (and she might hurt my hands beyond repair lmao i need my hands to do my job man) anddd bc i'm the only person who can do this, yet...

i'm kind of allergic to her :)

but i love suffering, suffering is my middle name. so remember how i said i got cat allergies? that happened when we got this parrot. she used to stay in my room and these parrots have like this white powder thing on their skin that can cause allergies. so my nose being exposed to these allergens long term caused some damage alright (i got allergic to literally every other thing, flu all the time for years, got no quality sleep and constant headaches) andd i finally got surgery in 2022. my allergies are almost gone now but i still have to be careful around her (a tragic love story right there)

anyways i love her, she loves me, we understand each other pretty damn well (it's almost eerie lmao). we dance to kpop together. we sing together. her avg lifespan is 60+ so we have a bet going on on who lives longer :D (bet it's gonna be her-) also we were meant to be fr bc her prev owner has the same name as me so she never had to learn to say my name :D

BIRB LORE BIRB LORE!!! omg she's so pretty :'))) well ig in that case,,, all african grey parrots are pretty 😭😭 that's actually really interesting that every one looks alike to the next ... i wonder if there's like an evolutionary mechanism to that— ANYWAYS

no cuz u literally feel like ur the animal whisperer at this point LMAO like all the stray cats and now the parrot, but ig it's also a testament to the fact that ur a good person! i feel like u can almost always trust an animal's instincts when it comes to people vibes haha 😌 unless it's like cherry, that girl is so needy and moody w everyone i can't even be too sure that she likes me cuz i picked her up this morning and she was so good abt it, and then i put her down and she turned around and tried to eat my toe 🧍🏻‍♀️

awh im so glad she's gotten so much more comfortable now 😭 that's really sweet to hear abt this progression esp ur relationship with her :'))) tbh tho why am i not surprised that she was the one where ur allergies originated from 😭 you fr are just like defying death left and right skfndkfnfk idk man TT anyways . LOL UR BET W LEA ABT WHO'LL DIE FIRST IM YELLING SJFNEKFNJR im glad ur doing much better tho now after the surgery tho 😭

also wishing u luck w slowly getting her out of her cage :')) im sure you'll prevail w patience and lots of mangos!! omg aren't there specific gloves people use for birds? like so their talons don't scratch them or sumn?

thank u for sharing tho as always, i was very excited opening my inbox this morning !! 💖

[chilapis]

hi almandine ! i hope ur having a wonderful day ; are u taking breaks and eating well ? idk if the semesters are as long as they are for me bc i know we live in different places, but i wish u so much good luck for ur studies as the end of the academic year approaches 🫶 i wanted to ask, what kind of person is leon? what does he do, whats the world he lives in like, and how do u see him thru ur eyes? my only exposure to him is through .. online mods and gifs ive seen of him go viral, u probably know the ones LOL, but i wanted to learn abt him from u if thats okay 🫶 (@dmclr)

Our semester has pretty much come to its conclusion — my first final is in…. 18 days? Just a little over two weeks, which is a terrifying thought. I’ve been trying to see to my needs and give myself a break and here though! <3 I just hope you’ve been taking care of yourself the same way? Please don’t let yourself drown in academic or other stressors, and know that with as strong as you are, you can overcome anything.

The online mods…. Yeah, I’ve. seen a couple. They’re, something certainly. (My reaction to that information v)

What does he do? Well, he was a cop— just started his job, actually (like one day? literally one day? It was the first day?), but then pretty much got hired by The President and got employment as a government agent for the United States. Fun.

The Resident Evil world is… interesting? Kind of like if, “fuck around and find out” and, “instead of asking if you can, ask if you should” combined. There’s biological weapons running rampant, including dogs, literal zombies (but we don’t call them zombies, no), and uh…. Huge grey men?

Say hi to him. He will not die. You cannot kill him. You cannot kill anything in this stupid universe actually. My favourite Resident Evil game, Resident Evil 7 (which… ironically doesn’t have Leon in it) literally features this one stupid fucking Southern family (whom I love so sweetly) and the father, Jack Baker, just will. Not. Die. You know how in games you get to experience different boss battles? Yes, well, I don’t remember how many boss battles are in RE7, but I will tell you this: 3 of them belong to Mr. Baker ENTIRELY. He just mutates worse and worse and you keep thinking he is dead but he is NOT. You kill his wife and she dies but no, he just won’t fucking die. And then you buy the DLC and you play as the big, strong, veteran uncle who just PUNCHES THINGS INSTEAD OF USING WEAPONS AND IT SOMEHOW FUCKING WORKS and guess who the big bad is! You’ll never guess! You’ll never figure it out! That’s right! It’s Jack Fucking Baker for the fourth god damn time and now he looks even more disgusting and corrupted. Although the game did not include Leon (it held Ethan Winters, a darling father), it’s still set in the same universe so I feel like you can get a pretty good… idea from all of that, yes? Remember ! Nothing. Dies. If you think it’s dead, it is not, it is simply now More aware of your existence.

Now, onto the actual man himself.

First of all? Not related to my view on him but he’s was… kind of misogyny-coded in the original Resident Evil 4 and that makes me giggle a little but I still somehow prefer that RE4 to the 2023 Remake. I know I reblog gifs of the remake a lot and that is simply because, I mean, who doesn’t enjoy experiencing their silly guy with better graphic quality, right? But I don’t like the alterations they did to certain scenes and dialogues. Also he looked like this in the original re4 which scares me more than the undying mutated abominations so, I. Well.

(^ NOT RELATED TO THE MISOGYNY HE WAS SUFFERING FROM DISEASE HE WAS ILL)

Okay, okay, anyway…. I HATE how the fandom views him, it stresses me out. They view him as this demanding, super serious, violent, brooding man who just wants a stupid, ditzy, useless girlfriend he can dominate, control and be a creep towards but that’s… not him? Like, how do you mess up so bad. This isn’t a particular part of the fandom as much almost the majority of it, sadly.

I feel like he’d, if anything, be a “wife guy”; he has a stressful job, he is traumatised beyond belief, he looks death in the eyes on a regular basis, he lost his parents when he was young, he has went through a-lot. And yet he’s so gentle, he still believes in saving everyone. He still believes in humanity and has this hope in him. He is still… soft. I don’t think he’d be a controlling or aggressive partner; I think he just wants something comforting to come back to, and he’d be SO grateful to have a partner who sticks by him through thick or thin, he’d be so genuinely giddy while taking about them. He lost his parents for fuck’s sake and got stuck in this godforsaken infected world when he was just 21… he wants home, I think more than anything he wants to come back to a place where he doesn’t have to think, where things can be handled for him and all he has to do is let himself be loved. Praised and acknowledged for once in his (somewhat miserable, let’s be honest) life. I mentioned, while answering Lucy’s ask, that I view him as a guard dog, and I think that’s perfect for him. He exists to protect — he has dedicated himself to that protection, to offering that canopy. His aggression is never on the offence, it has never been; not once, but it is done as a protective measure. If the years have reduced Ajax to a sword then they have reduced Leon to a shield. He just wants his efforts acknowledged — he just wants praise and warmth and comfort — and yet are they ever? At-least, to the degree they deserve? He falls into a depressive state in Resident Evil: Vendetta and it stings. He is such a simple man and I genuinely believe domesticity could fix him. He has never known what it’s like to feel safe — why would anyone want to force him to be a protector even in his partnership, even in intimacy? Let him relax for fuck’s sake. Let him. know what it’s like to be on the other end for once in his life. Comfortable clothes, hand holding on a warm cup of tea rather than a gun or a knife. No news channels and no social media or nothing. Phone on DND. I do not care if the USA burns to the ground, I want him to rest his head on my shoulder and finally get the sleep he hasn’t had in years. Civilian lives can wait a few hours to be saved.

[randomnameless]

Seeing how badly sothis/byleth get treated by intsys makes me feel really badly for them and their fans. I thought self inserts were meant to fawn over the player but instead I see the company retcon them, replace, and low but high key shitting on them. I don’t think I would ever see this with characters like Link or Persona or the little pokemon kids so I’m not sure what intsys is trying to tell us about sothis/byleth if this what we see done to them, “they’re just a mindless beast”

As I realised thanks to talking and exchanging with people around and after years of discourse...

Fodlan suffers from "self-insert worship" but in a batman 5D chess gambit, from doylist wise, "player worship". Earl Grey must sell, thus the character who always loves the player and was made, designed, as the player's love-interest (Billy's), Supreme Leader's worship takes the cake.

As already pointed out, Fodlan games try their damnest to erase or not give any figs about Flamey, the "War" is just a background buzz and units are on snow class, and if something is to blamed for the destruction and deaths caused by the war it's deflected on the mole people, "Church/Kingdom BaD because they don't offer their heads on a platter" or the world and its systum - and the worst offender, on "crusts", aka, blood from a genocided race that mingled with "humanity" and is used as the scapegoat for everything wrong in the world. The "alien blood" is to blame and the real responsible for why Miklan tried to seduce people who didn't want to be seduced, or why classicism exist.

I exaggerate a bit, Heroes tried to poke holes at this smokescreen and it ended up with Supreme Leader running away from Lissa (the most persuasive character in the franchise?) because, hey, in her verse, no one told her 1+1 = 2, or no one she couldn't introduce to Aymr I guess.

(of course we have the lol!supports from the besf, but any opposition is resolved with a teaspoon in the following supports, there's no disagreement nothing, it's always "and John realised off-screen Supreme Leader was right and he was wrong", ultimate kuddos to the Ferdie support though, the biggest joke - but again, FE16's supports kind of suck).

With that in mind, Billy was always intended to be the SS Lord, and to opposed Supreme Leader (that's the gravitas and main steak served when you order Fodlan : "u will feel bad bcs u turn against ur precious student sad uwus").

And yet, not to prevent the irl players from, idk, buying Supreme Leader merch or routes or being engaged, even if it's through foolish fan-faction wars, Billy takes a backseat as Nopes fully embrace the core of the Fodlan games : Hresvelg Tea.

Player must feel bad for siding against Supreme Leader - so Supreme Leader must somehow be right, and make people at least some of them surface-level wonder if the ends justify the means, right?

Billy, when they are their character and not a self insert UI, thus must bow down to this rule - everything must be thrown in a blender so Supreme Leader's steak will look appetising, even if you have to destroy the tastiest risotto ever done in the process.

Rhea cannot have spotlight else we will be in a Lissa situation again - so if she has any, it'll play in the red herring already debunked 10 chapters ago "Church BaD Rhea BaD maybe she should have ruled over the world instead of letting HuMaNiTy rule itself". In Nopes? Conveniently, Uncle pops up so Rhea's goal changes, and she will prefer to save the world instead of putting the person who wants her out of Fodlan by tomorrow morning because her ears are pointy to the sword.

Dimitri? "BaD" as long as he wants to kill Supreme Leader, but when he'll become the Saviour King, he'll try to spare her and regret having to kill her - fuck to Baldo, Waldi, and the "creatures masquerading as humans" I guess - in FE16 ; in Nopes, he'll also join the "Church BaD" gang, thus isn't "really" opposing Supreme Leader, right?

Clout became a thing.

And Billy? Well, Barney's existence is their nemesis, so to prop Barney they should shit on Billy, right?

But to shit on them to this point - throwing them with the other Nabateans in Nopes in the "dgaf" trashcan but also, confirming the worst theories from FE16 (Jerry's not the best dad ever) hurts. Billy was, this time, sacrificed to make place for the new self-insert, but also, imho, to showcase how the damn space lizards are evil (and not only because we're playing an agarthan game/route, but also because it checks a certain someone's agenda).

So while I think it's less something of "the devs hate Billy" it's more like "the devs want you to buy Hresvelg Tea".

[mangoisms]

hi soooo i randomly found dgfh and let me tell u that this is everything i could’ve ever wanted on a fic i just love the way u write the reader because (as a self proclaimed lover of humanity) it is sosososo refreshing to see a character also embrace humanity as it is, with it’s flaws and complexities while never losing faith on the goodness of people. im loving the story so far !!! ur writing is amazing and it makes me feel so warm inside <3

aaaaand i also am a huge dc fan so i was wondering, who’s tee’s fave robin and who do u think would be miyukis fave dc character? (lord i’m so sorry if the question is annoying but this is the first time two of my hyperfixations are in one fic 😭)

anon i just need you to know this ask had me giggling twirling my hair and kicking my feet

like first off THANK YOU. i generally try to write my readers/ocs as not being cynical in regards to humanity just as simple baseline but with tee, it was a specific thing for her and in fact a pointed difference between her and miyuki. for me, i am also a humanity lover and just so tired of seeing cynicism/pessimism in regards to it especially in writing (and this is of course a nuanced convo but most of the time, i encountered just plain out pessimistic characters that made it so hard to enjoy the story LOL) so that’s why i did it. very glad another humanity lover can reap the benefits too. literally nothing makes me more happy to see others enjoying specific aspects i wrote for myself that they also enjoy as well!

NOOOO don’t worry it’s not annoying AT ALL ^_^ i’m literally SO happy to talk about it. dc and daiya have my brain held hostage, i’m constantly thinking about them together or separately. it was purely indulgent to make tee a dc comics enjoyer and i am sooo glad you are enjoying that too!!!!!

those are EXCELLENT questions that i haven’t actually thought about… i’m a fake fan HELP no i’m just kidding i’m just kidding. let’s see… i think tee’s favorite robin would have to be dick or MAYBE jason. they both have deeply robin-like qualities. they’re kind they’re likable they are perhaps the most true examples of robin being the light to batman’s dark and i think she would lean towards that. (which is not to say tim didn’t have that but he’s. well. you know. tim. and then damian. i love him but. he’s more of a shade of grey i would say — however we could also consider steph here too, since i think she embodied that light to batman’s dark very well, even if she was robin for a short period of time.)

for miyuki… that is so hard. deeply fun to consider however. my dc knowledge is limited unfortunately so i can’t consider a lot of people but i think he would either really like lois lane or john constantine. i know they’re both SO random but. genuinely feel like they’re good matches. for lois i am admittedly biased because tee makes a nice reference to clark and lois in the final part of dgfh but i also do think he would like her personality. they’re both. deeply stubborn individuals. and then john is. i think that one is self explanatory. he’s got that belligerence that miyuki would enjoy LMAOOOOOO

edit: WAIT i hope it’s not too late. anon if you would like tell me what you think!!!! do you agree or disagree??? disagreeing is totally fine if anything i would be super interested to hear what you think about who tee’s favorite robin would be or miyuki’s favorite dc character!!!! let me know!!!!!

anyway this ask was so lovely THANK YOU i am glad to know there is another dc and daiya enjoyer out there 🫡🫡

[thelikesoffinn]

hey babe what r ur favorite tropes and ship dynamics? (My guess is enemies to lovers cos everyone likes that one)

Oooooh good question!

For tropes, I'd probably go with...found family, [childhood] best friends to lovers and...hm. I do adore anything second choice-y. Oh, and fake dating can also be fun, but only when I don't have to write it myself.

(I'm not super into enemies to lovers, I'm sorry, it annoys me most of the time!)

For ship dynamics...huh, I'm actually not sure. I love this entire thing where partner a is rough, large and intimidating - aka has trauma and hides behind a stern exterior - and b is soft and kind, shy and somewhat sad - aka has trauma and is still soft, haha.

But generic sunshine x grumpy is good too. or anything with opposites! Like, give me cheerleader x punk any day.

Basically, I love contrast! As long as there is some of that, I'm good. Contrast is wonderful because it always comes with issues - both personal and societal - and issues turn to angst, and I love angst.

Another anon asked why I like Astarion so much even though he's somewhat arseholey and I'm just gonna pop that one in here too: I kind of... like arseholes. Not in the realistic sense but in fiction. I was always the tall-dark-dangerous girl, the one that falls for the somewhat villainous dude, even way back when I was a kid.

Golden Retriever characters are lovely and hard to dislike, but I tend to find them rather boring in the long run!

What I don't like is a classic hero character. Get them awa from me! I'm here for the "he'd burn the entire world down just to save you" and not the "he'd let you burn to save the world". Blegh. I take the morally grey bastard overthere, thank you very much!

[tobns]

1/2 hello u don't have to post this if you don't want but i just wanted to say i really love meet me at midnight, thank u so much for sharing your gift with us <3 i saw in the comments u posted ur headcanon and i love it but i PERSONALLY cannot deal with anything other than a happy ending so i'm choosing to believe that they reunite later in life like late 40s early 50s, christen's visiting MoMA and looking at one of tobin's pieces and tobin spots her greying curls etc. etc.

2/2 the plot of chap. 2 kind of reminded me of casson's easy on me (i know u might have joined the fandom recently, their works have been archived :( ) and i'm hoping one day u get to read it! anyway, thanks again for sharing your art, wishing you well and looking forward to the next chapter :)

MY LOV!!!! YOU ARE SO VERY SWEET, thank you so so much for taking part of ur day to indulge in my madness and for being so incredibly kind 💗 i have had several of casson's fics recced to me but alas, the works were all archived before i hopped on board :( a big bummer, i've heard so many wonderful things!!! i am hoping this for me too, lol. LISTEN the beauty of ending these lil stories on what i feel are relatively open terms is that you can decide how everything plays out beyond what i've written — i could even see christen out in LA and she's getting ready to retire from the law firm for something wayyyyy lower stakes and someone gets her a present that's a piece of art by this one artist that they're a fan of and thought chris would like and lo and behold, it's a piece of tobin's and she's inclined to reach out... the possibilities are ENDLESSSSS. all this to say, thank you so much for sharing ur thoughts. i love love loveeeeee sharing the things i create and getting to talk with lovely people such as yourself about the things we're all passionate about/fans of :') can't wait for you to read this next one, MUCH more fun awaits us LOL

[coerthas-enjoyer]

shb log #7

ok some shadowbringers thoughts pre-emet-selch fight

( very long post, all text )

im ngl this expansion was a hell of a roller coaster when it came to whether i thought it wss good or bad. overall my impression of it is good but i wonder if i dont think of it as highly as so many players do

main thing is the plot was very predictable for the first like 2/3 of the msq. defeat the lightwardens of the four areas, absorb the light, restore the night sky. before that, interact w the locals and help them w their problems.

the only unpredictable things were at the very beginning when we were still tryna understand what the exarch revealed, not knowing how to handle the light becoming too much to bear, and what happens after kholusia (i kept thinking “its def not gna be that simple”)

while i liked the worldbuilding, the predictability was the main reason the plot wasnt v exciting for me. heavensward and stormblood did have a clear end objective, but the journey wasnt as predictable. we didnt know what the “subtasks” would be before achieving our final task.

and then it finally got better once we reached the tempest, bc then it was uncertain how we would ultimately triumph. plus we get some lore dumps which i always welcome

anyway this doesnt make shb any less of a great expansion. i was just a little disappointed, thats all 😅

and i say this now before actually finishing the game bc in my opinion, if i have to wait until the very end to be satisfied with the plot, that isnt the storytelling i personally enjoy. i care more abt the journey than the destination / last moments

but now onto the good parts! each area was very well designed in terms of their culture, lore, and current struggles. it was rly fun getting to meet w all kinds of ppl in norvrandt & honestly its hard to choose a favorite ;w; entering a new area was always so exciting bc of this

the dungeon and trial bosses are much more engaging and fun! i rly like the combat in this game and its been fun figuring out the mechanics of every fight. so much more involved than doing ur combos and dodging a very simple aoe every now and then LOL

ike i was actually gripping the controller & sitting at the edge of my seat during the final dungeon boss of amaurot

i also like the designs of the sin eaters and lightwardens. i think its cool to see what we previously perceived as good (light) turned into monstrous beings. probably not a new concept, but i still like it :D

love their roman empire (i think) aesthetics too

as i progressed thru the quest i was more involved in the idea that everyone is morally grey, even ourselves. we’re villains to some while heroes to others, and our enemies r the same. sometimes makes u stop and wonder what ur rly fighting for instead of blindly charging forward

so i think in terms of the broader message and having the origins of ascians and the worlds involved, shadowbringers is the strongest expansion so far. but in terms of storytelling & overall pace of the quests, i actually prefer hw and sb 😅

but im excited to finish it up!!

[heathenclung]

i feel like it’s important that everyone knows that greyson throws a lil adoption party for ivy every year. yes, it is an excuse to get drunk, but he spoils her on her ‘birth’day w all the food she could ever want and u bet ur ass he takes hella selfies and posts them on insta

[arknights-imagines]

HAPPY ANNIV EXE!!! HOPE UR HAVING A GREAT CELEBRATION HEHE

To start off with, i wanna give SilverAsh a fancy new fountain pen that's been personally customized to suit his tastes umu

Marahuyos sgsushs hiya 🥳!! It's great to see you aaa tysm for joining the Anniversary celebrations 🎊! And the Anniversary has been going super awesome ty 🥳~

You have a gift to give to SilverAsh sbjshs aaa okay ✨! A fountain pen for SilverAsh then 🥺, dw it'll get to him safely! I put a little extra love into this one as well sbjshs 👉👈

I wonder what he'll think of your gift sgshs 💕?

Taglist for SilverAsh!:

@mammonishot

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

Fountain Pen for SilverAsh

(From @kohimiruku)

SilverAsh sits at his desk; his room is void of any noise, with the exception of the rushes of air against the window and the shuffling of the paperwork he’s busy with. His pen - a ballpoint one with blue ink from the stationary boxes from the HR Department - moves in a fluid motion against the paper as he signs his signature. Placing the completed document aside, he lifts his hand and attempts to write his signature once again on the next sheet of paper, however the pen leaves only a messy scribble of ink. The pen’s substandard quality can only manage for so long, it seemed.

A sigh pushes through the Feline’s lungs, and frustration becomes evident in his posture; his Feline ears flatten slightly against his head, and his tail stiffens. Momentarily, his attention leaves his paperwork, in order to search his desk for another working pen. However before he can find one, he's interrupted by a soft knock at his room’s door.

He goes to anwser it; you stand on the other side hiding something behind your back, and his eyes catch a blur of Dr. Exe who’s hastily heading down the hall after patting you on the back in an encouraging manner. The Feline lifts a brow at you, “What a pleasant surprise, I’ll admit you’ve caught me unawares.” SilverAsh’s eyes trail down from your face to where your hands are tucked behind your back; the grey irises glint with intrigue, “Well, might I ask what brought you here?”

The curiosity on his facial features tell you that you’ve already been figured out. Smiling sheepishly, you quit hiding your hands and hold out your gift towards him - a fountain pen, made of sleek black metal and detailed with silver. His Feline ears twitch in surprise, “Hmm? For me, is it?” He accepts it from you, studying it closer; his initials are engraved onto the pen's barrel, and he removes the cap to discover a fine quality nib. Using the inside of his wrist, he tests how the pen writes. The black ink flows from the nib smoothly and in a thin trail.

SilverAsh grins slightly, expression pleased, and his eyes return to you, “I must say, it’s seldom that I receive gifts that bring a smile to my face. I’m well aware a simple pen is nothing ostentatious, but it matters little, as I can see you’ve taken some further effort so this gift was to my personal liking.”

He steps closer, brushing the backs of his fingers against your cheek gently as his tail wrapped around your thigh; when you smile at him, his eyes warm affectionately, “I shall respond in kind sometime, though until then, you have my earnest thanks.”

[salt-baby]

hi!! can I ask a question about cpunk? i was wondering what exactly it means and who can use the label? Im not sure if I can… I have chronic pain and trouble walking/going up stairs, getting up, fatigue, pots, etc… but I don’t use a mobility aid at the moment and I don’t look like other people who are punk (I’m not able to dress like that rn) are there some kind of requirements? i know that being punk is more than just looking a certain way but I do feel kinda fake for looking so different aa and is it ok to say ur cpunk even if u don’t have a mobility aid?

lots of great questions here!

when it comes to what cpunk is (also called cripple punk, which is what I'll use here, since that's the term I prefer), I want to be clear I'm no expert, but I can help share what I know and hopefully get you started, and let you know what cripple punk means to me.

The Verge has a good article about this, but I'll also summarize cripple punk's origins myself below.

cripple punk started with this post by disabled Tumblr user crpl-pnk, in which they posted a picture of themself with a cigarette and captioned it "cripple punk". the general reaction to this was pretty drastic, and highlighted some of the damaging ways that society can view disabled people. In response to this, and the growing support and popularity from other disabled people, op began the cripple punk movement, and ended up posting guidelines that helped solidify what cripple punk was:

"-cripple punk is exclusively by the physically disabled for the physically disabled

-cripple punk is about solidarity & is open to all physically disabled people

-cripple punk rejects pity, inspiration porn, & all other forms of ableism

-cripple punk rejects the "good cripple" mythos. cripple punk is here for the bitter cripple, the uninspirational cripple, the smoking cripple, the drinking cripple, the addict cripple, the cripple who hasn't "tried everything"

-cripple punk fights internalized ableism & fully supports those struggling with it

-cripple punk respects intersections of race, culture, gender, sexual/romantic orientation, size, intersex status, mental illness/neuroatypical status, survivor status, etc.

-cripple punk recognizes that there is no one universal disabled experience

-cripple punk does not pander to the able bodied"

(there's a couple more in the original post, but these are the ones I'm going to discuss here)

cripple punk is a movement built around these rules, which strives to reject the harmful ways that society defines disabled people. important to note is that these rules are pretty open to interpretation, and people can find different meaning in them. there are also other movements that center on neurodivergency or mental illness, but I don't have any experience with those.

I cannot express enough that cripple punk is not limited to these rules, and that the nature of these kinds of labels is that what they mean grows and changes over time. Defining what exactly belongs under these labels, and who can use them, will never result in a clear line, and will always have some grey area.

for me, I call myself a cripple punk because I strive to remember and live by these rules, and to advocate for others to consider doing the same. I do this because it helps me to accept my disability and exist in a world where I'm discriminated against because of it.

Practicing this personally means that I try to remember that strangers giving me false pity is not a gift, that I try to forgive myself for taking a break from doctors appointments or forgetting my meds or eating things that aren't in my ideal diet. it means that I try to educate myself on other people's disabilities, always remember that I stand with other disabled people and not against them, and I acknowledge that sometimes our experiences are incomparable. It means that I don't deny myself my anger over getting sick, and forgive myself when I do things that aren't great for my health like drinking or smoking. It means I try to educate and remind myself that the disabled experience can be affected by other identities like race or gender, and I acknowledge my privilege when it comes to those things. This isn't an exhaustive list, of course.

Striving to do these things isn't easy, and I definitely don't achieve it every day. There are times when I still find myself trying to be the "good cripple", who tries all the supplements and is polite to every terrible doctor and sucks up the pain and thanks people for praying for them and forgives every ableist comment. There are times when I have to pretend to be this person, maybe because I'm at work or because I'm just too tired to fight back against my own internalized ableism that day.

When it comes to dressing like a punk, that's in no way a requirement! Cripple punk has nothing to do with fashion, although a lot of cripple punks are also just regular punks (who also don't have to dress any certain way, but for a lot of people that punk way of dressing connects them to their movement and its history and helps them express themselves, myself included.) You should wear the clothes that make you comfortable and happy. most days I wear baggy pants and an oversized shirt, because that's what's comfy around my braces, chronic pain, and sensory issues.

When it comes to who can use that label, I would say it's those who identify as physically disabled. You're the only person who can decide whether you feel that label resonates with you, but what I can say is this: you don't need a mobility aid to be disabled or cripple punk, and a disabled person is just a person who has things they can't do because of their health. I started using the word disabled when I stopped being able to go up stairs or walk as well as I used to, and I started to really feel limited in what I was able to do using my body.

I can definitely understand feeling like a fake (and I'll point out here that you can never be a fake unless you are intentionally, knowingly, consciously deciding to fake something), and I struggled for a long time over whether I was "disabled enough" to call myself disabled or use the word cripple uncensored or to call myself a cripple punk, but I cannot encourage you enough to use these labels if they feel right for you and help you. and if you don't like any of them, then don't feel bound to them, and call yourself whatever you'd like.

[lgwifey]

wait omg these match-ups sound so fun. can i have one for hp & one for mphfpc if that’s not too much?

i’m 5’2, i’m white & american, i use she/her pronouns, and i’m bisexual!! if u need any more i have short blonde hair w bangs & blue-grey eyes hehe. i’m an enfp (and if u know anything abt enneagram i’m type four!). i love writing, singing, reading, and just being around the ppl i love- so i’d say those are my hobbies :)) as for style… i don’t rly have a specific style but i love academia, cottagecore, princesscore, fairycore, and stuff like that. the things i wear tend to fall into at least one of those categories i think <3 i’m a hufflepuff and a quiz told me i’d be a half-blood lol. let’s say my peculiarity is that i have like. butterfly wings that’s cool i think lmao

v excited to see what i get!! also do u have a name u go by online? (if ur not comfy sharing ur real name lol) i just wanna know so ik what to call u when we interact!!

𝐈'𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 (𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦) 𝐎𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐄𝐥𝐞𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚

Okay so...

• I feel like you and Olive have the same kind of personality traits. And that you'd just look cute together.

• You start dating after knowing each other for a few decades. I seams like a long time to know each other for, but things work differently in the loop and one of you wasn't sure whether the other only viewed each other as a friend.

• She would literally love your peculiarity. Because lbh, butterflies are the best (sorry not sorry). She would spend ages just staring at your wings whilst you read or wrote. If you're trying to show her a new book which Millard had introduced to you then there is a 85% chance she'd wonder off attention wise to where your wings where. They're just mesmerising to her ~ "Ol ? Ol ? Olive ?" *quick blinks* "Huh ?" "I was saying about this line in chapter seven-" ~

• Your dates would be pretty small, but cute. They would probably be held at the bottom of the garden or in town, in an attempt to get away from the noise of the kids. If you where in town then they would have to not be obvious, because of the era you where stuck in and all that, but sometimes you two would be really obvious about it just for the fun of them not being able to remember after a few hours. If you're having a picnic date with princess dresses and tiaras, (probably gonna end up happening because we all live for the aesthetic) then Claire and Bronwyn would usually end up making excuses to bring more food to you so then they could join, which Olive was sometimes too nice to protest to, but at least you got some time together without interruptions before they turned up.

• Okay hear me out on this one but, she'd constantly be stealing your dresses. Your outfits are just too cute for her to resist most of the time, so she'd sneak into your room across the hall and 'borrow' some clothes from time to time ~ *olive strolls into the room with a pot of tea* *looks over from the piano, squints eyes* *olive waves* *enoch scowls because why not* *tilts head* *olive leaves the room with the empty tea pot* *turns back to the piano before looking back around to Enoch, eyebrows pull together in confusion* "she's wearing your cardigan, yes." "I thought so !" ~

• When Jacob arrives, he's a little confused as to why you're glaring at him ~ "She's really nice, loves everyone." "Even Enoch." "Shut up Millard." *Jake looks over to where you're sat with a book upside down, looking over the top with your eyes dark and glaring at him* "She seems lovely." *Olive grabbing onto his arm to drag him off to the next room on the 'tour'* "Isn't she just, next is-" ~ . You eventually loose your glare when you remember that Olive isn't into him, after much assurance from her and alot of bad jokes from a certain dead raiser.

𝐈'𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐆𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲

Okeydokey ...

• Okay so I imagine you transfer from Ivermory in like fourth or fifth year and staright from the get go, George is infactuated with you.

• Like it's boarder line obsessive.

• Fred is his No 1 hype man. Well he thinks he is, in reality he sits there and makes sarcastic comments to his twin whilst the lad accidentally stares at you as you talk to your friends at the Yellow decorated table ~ "And here we have a wild George Fabian Weasley. Mating season has come around once again and he has his eyes set on a certain American honeybadger. In fact, he's had his eyes set on her for two years, he's just too much of a pussy to ask her out." "D'ya think she has to wake up really early to make her face that beautiful ?" *Fred looks up from his bacon with a confused look, ends up staring at his brother in disbelief* "It's probably just natural. She's so pretty Fred, isn't she ?" "Mate, if you don't shut up I will hit you." ~

• Okay so you're both pretty different. You're a literature girl ; books, music, writing and academic. He, however, was not. You did find out though, that he was good at potions from all of his and Fred's prank concoxions. And your potions weren't the best to put it politely. You'd obviously been harbouring a crush on him for a while, a few months after you'd started at the school precisely. How could you not, he was funny, kind, didn't cat call you, was one of the beaters for Gryffindor's quidditch team and he wasn't too bad on the eyes. He also had never pulled a prank on you which you where grateful for, but you weren't sure whether that was just because he hadn't noticed you. That's how you became friends, you'd asked him to tutor you in sixth year since your grades where dropping. Fred obviously teased him relentlessly for this because he didn't pull the first move.

• Time skip and in seventh year, after he's dropped out, he asks you on a date. Obviously you accept.

• Another time skip and you meet his family. Because Harry and Hermione are busy stopping the wizarding world from dying, you become the new source of Muggle infomation for Arthur. Obviously, George isn't too fond of your time together being interrupted by his dad whenever you're at his parents house ~ "Dad." "So the machine doesn't have a small elf in it washing the clothes ?" "No. It's just the machine's-" "Dad!" *You and Arthur look up from the couch to see George leant against a wall* "Hi son." "Hiya Georgie." *annoyed wave* "We where just talking about those muggle washing machines. Did you know-" "No I didn't . Anyways, darling how about now that we've seen mum and dad we go back to the shop ?" *Gets dragged out the door* ~

• Side note... but the pet names he would call you. THE PET NAMES. (darling, sweetheart, princess, huffles, honey)

• You end up getting on really well with Fleur, to Molly's dismay because your her favourate future daughter-in-law. You share a bit in common and she ends up taking you shopping in the village she grew up in for cute dresses. She tries to get you into french literature, which you end up giving into trying. Also France has alot of art history so you end up begging her to go on a little art tour with you. Bff vibes.

• I think you and George would just make a great couple in general. It's kinda a yin yang thing you have going on together. You balance each other out.

match up update

[aenaxes]

omg!! congrats on 200!!!! 🥰🥰 ur my fav crosshair writer so: crosshair + trust, with a gender neutral reader? nsfw or not, it's up to u!! congrats again ��🎆🎉

kinesthesia

[crosshair x gn!reader] with precision, there is control, and with control, there is tension, not easily soothed. you take it into your own hands to prove that wrong.

warnings: nsfw, fellatio, (kind of) sub!cross

w/c: 3.0k

a/n: prince my he a r t 🥺💕 ily bb ! this was also a super fun prompt to write hehe, and look i openly accept that i’m a pillow princess bottom, but i think i would enjoy making crosshair squirm. uno reverse card on his oral fixation—mine now.

“I’m still not entirely sold on this,” Crosshair admits as he takes a seat at the edge of your bunk. His toothpick bobs anxiously between his lips, chewed down flat where his lips brush up against the bleached wood. It’s not often that this breed of restlessness finds hold: stiff shoulders and hands folded tight over his lap.

Nerves.

“That’s why we have the safeword,” you quip from across your quarters, voice rising as you struggle to twist out of your heavy uniform jacket.

(Un)surprisingly, Crosshair makes for a quick study. Beneath the stony, oftentimes sullen disposition, he’s a simple man. Of course, that simplicity didn’t necessarily limit himself from branching out into an actual person, but you could boil him down to one thing and one thing alone: control. Whether it was his genetic acuity that shaped him into the sniper persona or vice versa, control centered him, grounded him, tied him so close to his sense of duty and personhood that sometimes it was hard to tell the two apart.

So when you had offered two rotations prior to take the reins—offered both as something new and the hypothetical of release from, well, everything that kept him in a perpetually alert state of coiled tension—you honestly hadn’t expected for Crosshair to pause, rolling his toothpick thoughtfully between his teeth, and accept.

There’s certainly a part of you that hopes the manufactured brevity to your tone is enough to soothe the anxiety radiating from where Crosshair makes himself prim and small on your bed, smaller still without the bulk of his dark armor weighed over his shoulders. But, against your better judgement, a low-lying anticipation simmers at the base of your lungs when you finally shuck the day’s sweat and blaster smoke to the side.

He’s seen you undone under him time and time again, beads of sweat following the smug lines of his expression as he bent you to his—and, to be entirely fair, your own—pleasure. And as satisfying as that arrangement has proven itself to be, curiosity has always been that single, nagging vice at the back of your head.

Who can blame you for wanting a taste?

“You remember it, right?”

“Yeah,” he says, and you catch the heavy dregs of uncertainty (perhaps even bashfulness, ha) dragging at his voice.

“Then say it,” you prod. You gently nudge the point of your knee up against Crosshair’s calf and offer him a mirthful glance. And when that doesn’t seem to banish his withering hesitance, you drop down onto the bunk beside him, grasping his hand in yours and squeezing snug.

“I—” he clears his throat with a soft wince: embarrassment. “I don’t think I’ll need it.”

“Cross,” you warn. Because if you were going to do this, you were going to do this right.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters under his breath, scrubbing his palm over the highest points of his cheeks. You wonder if the warmth over his cheeks is the same as your own, desirous and shy as you venture into those dark, uncertain places hand in hand. “Tooka, happy?”

“Very happy,” you grin, and you lean close to press a quick peck to the corner of his mouth.

Crosshair leans towards you, lips parted to chase your touch, more, more. But he’ll have his fill, and you’re quick to dart away, leaving him even more disoriented than he already is, all wide eyes that seek you like fading light.

You’re tempted to indulge him because it’s not often that he looks like a kicked loth cat (and he does a damn good impression when he does). But you manage to stuff down the creeping sympathy, opting instead to reach into the pocket of your trousers and produce a well-worn headband.

“Please tell me that’s not Hunter’s.” The rosy edge of desire vanishes from Crosshair’s voice as he catches sight of the broad black swatch of fabric in your palm. In its place, the testing edge of judgement so often home in Crosshair’s snide play.

“Ew, no—what? That’d be weird. And gross. Who do you think I am?”

That seems to do what your previous efforts could not, and your heart jumps when Crosshair responds with a soft snort and shrugs. He’s not resentful, not in the slightest. It’s just trepidation, jumping into uncharted waters with nothing but the trust that your hand, snug over his, would hold fast.

But the laughter settles, drawing back to reveal something that hums quiet between the small eternity between you. Even with your thigh pressed close against Crosshair’s own, you feel him drawing away, hesitant and wanting all at once. You gently pull his hand between you, squeezing once.

“Trust me?” you murmur.

Crosshair offers you a tremulous look, more nervous than apprehensive. You suppose it’s only fitting of him that relinquishing his steady grip over control might be more appealing in concept than on the eve of practice. Nonetheless, when you meet his gaze, you find the kind of uncertainty that heralds excitement, careful but enamored all the same. He nods.

“Then let me take care of you.”

Finally, as you raise your hands to his temples, pressing the dark fabric over his eyes, the tension pulls away from his coiled muscles, dropping his shoulders and bowing his head as you reach around him and tie a knot over the back of his silvery hair. He exhales long and slow as the knot settles snug over his scalp, warmed by the creases left behind by your fingertips and the sudden comfort yet complete unpredictability that shrouds his senses.

Testing the waters, you bring one hand to his cheek, just barely ghosting your fingertips over the lean lines of his jaw, and you are rewarded with a full-bodied shudder that shocks through Crosshair’s form as his lips gently part around his toothpick. Without that precious ability to see, he sits in your palm at your every whim.

You lean forward, gently biting your teeth around the tapered free end of his toothpick, and you feel him swallow hard when you free it from his mouth and drop it to the floor.

“Trust me.”

Chest heaving, he nods again.

“Safeword?”

This time, there is no snark to accompany a begrudging response. “Tooka.” Instead, his voice dips breathy and low between the long breadths between his soft exhales, his beating heart.

“Good boy.”

You surprise yourself at how natural the praise feels, rolling from your tongue and rising over the ambient hum of the ship around you. It fills your chest with something like affection, bordered pride that only swells as you watch him shudder, his lips parting just a little wider to pass that barely-there whimper riding on his exhale.

The hard planes of his body, that star map you’ve committed to the deepest parts of your heart, are familiar terrain under your skin as you flatten your palms over the sharp jut of his collar and travel lower. You pause the heels of your palms over the base of his ribs, pressing softly against the quickening rise and fall of his chest. Satisfaction curls sweet and rich over the tip of your tongue as his stuttering inhale shifts the air around you.

With slow, firm force, you push him backwards onto the bunk, Crosshair’s elbows catching his slow descent over the dark grey sheets until finally drops his head back onto the firm mattress. His chest heaves.

Your fingertips pass over the sinew and soft scar of his abdomen, chasing how his breathing expands from his chest and leaches tension over the length of his torso. You’re certain this isn’t new, not when your intimacy has you stealing the other’s breaths between stuttering gasps. But to feel it under your palms, thrumming and deep—it sets your nerves on fire.

Control. It’s wholly and entirely yours.

You still as the pads of your fingers catch the faint ridge of his waistband. And a part of you is smug with the power of reversal, that it wasn’t Crosshair offering you a knowing smirk as he parted your thighs and pressed close, that it was you, privy to only the deepest intimacy Crosshair could offer.

But it’s exactly that which keeps the power from rushing to your head, stymying the teasing mischief for something warm in your stomach when you trail lower and gently cup over the straining bulge in his blacks. And it grows fonder when Crosshair’s legs jerk with a labored puff of breath, the same one he breathes into your ear when he finally pushes up deep inside you and presses his skin close against yours. He whines, a straining, soft noise through his bitten lips, and you’ve teased long enough.

Crosshair makes a soft noise, somewhere between a gasp and a whining moan, when you finally hook your fingers over the hem of the dark fabric and expose the curved strain of his cock. He’s so open, you think as you reach forwards (though, you suppose being deprived of the one sense that reigned king would do that to you).

You don’t need to be able to see the half of his face rising above the bridge of his nose to envision the soft knit of his dark brows, eyes squeezed shut and lashes fluttering with every soft noise that passes his lips. You don’t need to see the half of his face bound under that broad swath of fabric to envision how his expression breaks from restraint to unbridled euphoria when you trace the edge of your nail down the underside of his cock.

“Please,” you think you hear him whisper past a breathy moan.

Whatever he might have had prepared, the whole gamut of biting, bratty demand to wide-eyed pleas, tumbles back into his throat when you finally climb onto the bunk by his hips, lick the flat of your tongue over your palm, and wrap it snug around the middle of Crosshair’s cock. Instead, you watch with a satisfied awe as he jerks up into your touch, spit-slick lips parted in a silent cry.

“You want my hand or my mouth?” you croon, pumping slowly from the thick base of his erection to the ruddy tip. You want him to feel every quiver of your touch as you run your thumb over the pearly drop of precome beaded at the crown of his cock, reveling in his shudder beneath you. You want to be the only thing he feels.

“Mouth,” he chokes out. “Please.”

“You’re so polite today,” you muse, reaching up with your free hand to rub your thumb over the plush bitten skin of his bottom lip. Emboldened, you slip your finger past his lips, grazing over his teeth as you push the pad of your thumb over his tongue, all the while slowly working your hand over his cock. “The good boy gets what he wants, then. Right?”

For a brief moment, something like disbelief occupies the warm air between you—you, amazed at how easy it is to hold the reins tight; him, stunned that somehow, you in control was as good, if not better, than being the commandeering weight to push your face into the pillows.

Crosshair nods, trembling as you squeeze softly over the base of his cock.

“I need to hear it, mesh’la.”

The last line of his restraint crumbles at the sound: one only ever given from him to you, yet suddenly brought back to him with the full brunt of lust, affection, the secret words you’ve come to call your own. Crosshair bucks up into your hand with a low groan, gasping soft and breathy when you slip your thumb from his mouth and hold him down to the mattress.

“Yes, please.”

You smile and dip low.

Unlike the slow deliberation of your earlier touch, you seal your lips over his ruddy cockhead with one smooth motion, pressing your tongue flat against the underside and hollowing your cheeks. And the heady taste of salt, of trembling anticipation, of him, only sweetens when you flick your eyes up to catch Crosshair tip up his chin, dig his heels into the mattress, and sob.

You sink his cock deeper into your mouth, achingly slow while you continue to work your fist around the base of his cock, and close in a way that coaxes soft, whimpering noises from his lips as he turns his head and clenches his jaw.

Flicking your eyes upwards, a pang of regret shocks through your chest that you aren’t able to see Crosshair come undone from the slightest of touches, tame in comparison to some of your particularly energetic nights. But you do away with the thought as quickly as it comes as his blunt cockhead brushes over the back of your tongue.

His pleasure has always been yours, yours his, you think as you pull back, just until your lips part around the tip of his cock while he shifts and gasps beneath you. You’ll have your turn soon enough.

Before you can sink back down, swallow him as deep as you can, the air by your cheek shifts, and expecting the worst, you lift your chin. But where you expected some stifled yellow light, Crosshair’s fingers feel blindly around you until they find purchase over your cheek. His relief is palpable as his stuttering touch curls over your skin and holds you close.

You smile.

“Trust me?” you ask again, your lips mouthing softly over his cock, catching thick smears of precome over your skin.

“I trust you,” he whispers.

Crosshair cries out, hoarse and as loud as he’s been all night, as you drop your mouth near-midway down the straining length of his cock in one motion, lavishing your tongue under his pulse. His hand tenses over your jaw, blunt nails digging light into your skin as his fingers curl with that bone-deep shock of pleasure. And if the breathy, desperate noises he whimpers into the alcove of the bunk are of any indication, you have a good feeling he’ll want to do this again.

You moan around him in answer. It doesn’t matter to you that his brothers might hear, only a few panels of durasteel away and connected by the reverb of a narrow ship corridor. They probably do hear, but all that matters now is Crosshair, coming impossibly more undone under your tongue as he runs his trembling thumb over the skin of your cheek.

His hips buck up towards you, catching the back of your throat with a soft sting that reaches your nose. If you weren’t so desperate, you might have pinned him down harder or pulled away entirely to let him think about what he had done. But as much as you want to chase this power play, hearing him lose himself to you has you desperate for his touch.

You follow him with every uneven jerk and thrust up into the wet heat of your mouth, letting him take his fill. You simply stroke firmer as his skin warms over your tongue. It’s all so hot, the air heady and thick as you breathe in sharp through your nose and lean into his palm, and you wonder what it feels like, anchored to nothing but you, his sole light in a world gone dark.

His motions fall uneven, his hips twisting against your touch, his breaths becoming deeper, louder as they bounce over the steel ceiling overhead. He’s close.

You twist your fist over his cock, redoubling your efforts. You sink down so far over his cock that your eyes water as you crush the head up against the back of your throat. Heavy and thick, it muffles down a soft gag for you—it’s the deepest you’ve ever taken him. Crosshair notices, and he nearly wails.

He’s been good, you decide as you all but choke around him. He can take that coveted control back. You gently rub his hand, unspoken assent, and his hand slides up your jaw to finds purchase at the back of your head to fuck you down onto him in earnest.

And you take it, eyes blurring with tears and shallow inhales through your nose, holding still and letting him fuck over your tongue until he’s taken his fill. It doesn’t take long for him to spill down your throat, a low, hoarse groan passed between his lips as you struggle to breathe between every dutiful swallow of his thick come down your throat.

“Good boy,” you rasp as you pull the blindfold from over his head.

Crosshair meets you with unfocused eyes, full of wonder and a shaky haze that finds focus on you alone in the low light. Over the ache in your knees, you crawl up to meet him, collapsing down beside him with a soft sigh. He meets you with habit, practiced and true as he tips down his chin and presses his lips to yours, tasting himself on your skin when he swipes his tongue over your lip.

“How was that?” you whisper, breathing soft over his lips.

You tilt your head up enough to catch your nose over Crosshair’s. He still meets you with that same stupor, but you see it begin to mellow into something other than the shock of enjoyment in submission in a man who has only ever known control to be his. It’s quiet and raw, splitting open your chest with that rare kind of warmth that the broad expanse of space and war leave little space to grow.

Yours, whispered and cradled close between your beating hearts, yours alone.

“I’ll remember the safeword,” Crosshair says finally, his voice distant and soft as he still rises out of the aftershocks of his orgasm. But in that weary daze, you catch the rosy relaxation, vulnerable and yet increasingly less rare in your palms. Relief, pride, joy, honeyed goodness rises to the apples of your cheeks at the sound.

“I still think I won’t need it, though.” And you both laugh, curling close.

[milkdoie]

types of fashion the dream members would find attractive.

requested. hello, i saw ur wips and i was just wondering if u could do a post about how nct dream would like their s/o to wear, just like the writing ur working on for nct 127? i love your blog!!

127 version.

— MARK. find here!

— RENJUN. clean, lots of greys, cross body bags, wide leg jeans, sort of minimalistic, pleated skirts, dress pants, sweater vests, oversized t-shirts, dark blues

his style, in my eyes, is actually pretty minimalistic and neat. he’s been wearing a lot of greys + neutral tones lately and it all looks really clean and put together.

he’d like someone who dresses similar, but not completely the same to the point where you guys are basically matching all the time. he wants to be able to share clothes with you <3

— JENO. dark shades (a lot of black), lots of layers, silver jewelry, jeans, leather jackets, oversized t-shirts, flannels, cargo pants, turtle necks

it’s really safe to say that jeno’s style has evolved a lot over the years, and he’s been sticking to a rather,,, dark colour palette recently. it’s not anything over the top, just little hints of techwear every now and then :)

he thinks any couple that dresses the same/has similar taste in fashion is automatically a power couple, and tbh i agree with him. he’d be so confident walking down the street with you in somewhat matching outfits ugh.

— HAECHAN. find here!

— JAEMIN. pastels/neutral tones, basic prints, girly, dresses, skirts, sweater vests, cuffed pants, oversized sweaters, chunky shoes, minimal layers, thin material, sweat/track suits

he definitely sticks to a basic theme when it comes to his fashion; we don’t normally see anything over the top, but he’s not boring either. super relaxed and kind of idgaf-ish (in a good way!! he looks really comfortable)

tbh jaemin has always come off as someone who i think would really love to have a cute s/o; someone he’s able to protect and love with all his heart, and the fashion really just tops it off.

— CHENLE. oversized, bright colours, wide leg jeans, graphic tees, bucket hats, chains, backpacks, mismatched shoes, elbow shirts, chunky shoes

i can’t really pinpoint what kind of style chenle exactly has — he definitely sticks to somewhat basic pieces, but i tend to associate him with really bright and extravagant outfit.

he’s a giant ball of happiness in my eyes, and so i think he’d be attracted to someone that dressed just like that. he likes walking around with someone that looks almost identical to a rainbow; he thinks it’s so adorable.

— JISUNG. sophisticated, light shades + lots of black, wide leg trousers, purses, trench coats, golden jewelry, dress shirts, casual suits, cardigans, platform shoes, knitted sweaters, mini skirts

whenever i pay attention to what he’s wearing, jisung is literally dressed like a british roadman, but i wouldn’t say that’s his entire style. he wears a lot of dark pieces, but he also wears tons of white shirts as well.

see, i can’t exactly explain why, but when i think of jisung’s s/o, i think of a very sophisticated and mature person. someone who just looks like they have their life put together, extremely organized, also probably one of those people that look like they smell really good, etc — and their style is no different.