#;;HE OBVIOUSLY REFRAINS FROM SAYING THEM IN PUBLIC

[chaot1c0]

I'm freezing rn but refuse to go to sleep [ also because I daydream of this like a hopeless romantic ], so here.

Satoru Gojo x gn! reader just fluff, no warnings. established relationship [?]

Satoru is definitely a cuddle person. no matter what, he will practically always be begging for cuddles. even as you're working. he just has a need for them. obviously, he'll be pouting if you don't give him cuddles.

Satoru also serves as a personal heater. that can prove to be both a good thing and a bad thing. you can cuddle up to him in the winter, when it gets cold, but it'll be a huge pain in the summer, when it's hot. the reason being is because whenever you both are getting ready to go to sleep, he'll be cuddling you. and he refuses to let go.

Satoru's love language is something along the lines of physical contact. hence the reason why he loves cuddling you. but if you're out in public, and you're uncomfortable with pda, he'll just refrain from it till you get home. although, if he sees someone eyeing you or hitting on you, he'll discreetly ask for permission just to make whoever it is know that you're taken.

Satoru will practically bother you whenever. but he makes sure you're okay with him bothering you. he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable or anything, because after all, he loves you. like a lot. to the point where he'd give you everything.

Satoru always gets you gifts or souvenirs. that's another way he expresses his love for you. even if you insist he has to stop spoiling you, he'd still come home, calling out for you in the most cheeriest tone that makes it hard for you to say no to someone as happy as him. so either way, he still ends up spoiling you.

Satoru is so in love with you that when on a mission, he will personally text you every hour- but if he's really busy, he'll text every few hours or so. sometimes he pulls out his phone in the middle of a fight with a cursed spirit and somehow the higher ups find out, which eventually leads to him getting scolded.. but he knows he'd do it all again just for you.

I'm tied between whether I should go to sleep or not, but after writing this I'm somehow not tired anymore..

[queerprayers]

Hello! I'm a genderfluid Christian and I'm currently trying to discern whether going on HRT would be a good idea, both in terms of whether it would be worth the inconvenience and whether it would be glorifying to God. Do you have any recommendations?

(For a long time, I was comfortable in my gender without it, but a few months ago something shifted and now I can't stop thinking about it. I would ask a pastor, but I'm between churches at the moment; the Baptist church I went to for many years, despite its many good qualities, is not at all affirming, and I'm still in the process of finding a better spiritual home, which is further complicated by the fact that I am nocturnal.)

Thank you for running this blog, by the way. It means a lot to me.

Hello, beloved! I will do my best and I'm so glad you're here.

I hope you've heard this quote from Daniel M. Lavery, but just in case you haven't: "As my friend Julian puts it, only half winkingly: 'God blessed me by making me transsexual for the same reason God made wheat but not bread and fruit but not wine, so that humanity might share in the act of creation.'"

Another quote from that book (Something That May Shock and Discredit You, which I highly recommend) that comes to mind is “Trying not to transition was the hardest work in the world. The nicest thing about transition was letting go.” I believe you that you're unsure, and I'm not trying to make your decision for you, but on the off chance that any of your discerning has taken the form of trying to convince yourself not to transition in this way, or downplaying your current discomfort, or not trusting yourself out of fear, I'd say that being trans in this world is hard enough without being on your own side.

Ultimately, you know yourself and your experience, and I'd hazard a guess that you've already decided more than you think. Often by the time I'm reaching out about a life change, I'm asking permission more than advice. If that rings true, here's your permission (not that you need it from me).

I hope you don't mind, but I checked in with my partner (a certified Transgender) while answering this, and I'll paraphrase what they had to say about HRT and inconvenience: Is the travel time to see a loved one worth the inconvenience? Ultimately, you are worth dealing with inconvenience. The happiness you could have is worth the inconvenience. Being trans is hard with or without medical transition. But sharing in the act of creation is worth it. We are all worth doing hard things for, and for some that includes fighting to get on HRT and being visibly trans in public.

You can't know until you begin a journey if it will be "worth it"—but I would imagine answering this for yourself, giving this instinct inside you a chance, would be worth it even if it's not forever. There are people who start HRT and decide it's not for them—and their lives aren't ruined. Their lives are fuller for honoring what they wanted at that point in time. Obviously regret happens—but we cannot refrain from living because of that. Your gender identity and your relationship with your body may change and grow, and all parts of that change are worth of honoring.

As to whether this would glorify God—are you honoring the person God created? If (to paraphrase St. Teresa of Ávila) Christ has no body now on earth but yours, if yours are the hands with which he blesses all the world, the feet with which he walks to do good, the eyes with which he looks compassion on this world —what body are you moving through this world with, and how will you care for it? What will enable you to live out Christ? Jesus calls us to meet every stranger as himself—what would happen if you met yourself as such, too? If everything we do to another is what we do to Christ—feed, clothe, honor—why would you be any less? Why would your body not be worthy of existence, of shelter?

If our bodies are temples to God, are they not places of worship? Of course my journey with accepting my body has shown me that we can be faithful Christians before accepting ourselves, and as we learn to care for ourselves. I don't mean to imply we cannot. But our peaceful existence in these places of worship takes work, and just as we work to make our churches more accessible and accepting, so must we work to care for our bodies and fully inhabit them as prayer. My work of love to my body was accepting it as it is, welcoming its change and faults, and also taking psychiatric medication so that I could function better. It was prayer for me, the journey to find a medication that worked and paying attention to how it was changing me, how it enabled me to better serve as a child of God.

Every trans person I know has been more fully able to love when they live as themselves—when they've had access to transition care, when they've been respected and affirmed. These were not selfish choices, they were self-honoring choices which have shone outward ever since. We can look to the Bible to see name changes at moments of God-glorifying change, and we can also see physical change—the shining face of Moses, the woman who only seeks to grasp the hem of Jesus's clothing to be healed, Paul going temporarily blind, Jesus himself at his transfiguration. We cannot serve God and stay the same.

Romans 12 tells us to offer our bodies as a living sacrifice—living. Yes, we are called to be willing to die for love, but also to live for it. Preventing your flourishing because it would be scary, or inconvenient, or misunderstood, or because it may not be where your flourishing lies forever, is not a sacrifice for love. Transition, the way I've seen it in the people around me, is.

I also want to point out that you've done the work—you introduced yourself as a genderfluid Christian. I don't know your story, but I know the years of reconciling saying those words can take. You have the language for yourself. You know who you are. HRT can be a huge first step for some, but it can also be just the next part of that work. It doesn't have to be huge. For some it is simply bringing things more in line with the self they've known all along. Make it a big deal if that feels true (and it is a big deal in terms of bravery and access), but it may become just one of many ways you care for yourself. You don't have to cater to those who see it as drastic or an emergency, those who fearmonger or want you to prove you need it. You've done the work, so trust that you are capable of making this decision.

It is your God-given right to make decisions about your body. As Christians, we believe we are called to serve God with those decisions. But God gave us the reins. God gave us all different skills and stories and paths. It is not easy or obvious and sometimes we circle back or regret or repent. God gave us the capacity for those kinds of stories, too. Be human with God—our God who entered into time and space, who participated in our having-a-body-ness, who reconciled the ways his body held him back and the ways he could serve with it. Jesus's relationship with his gender/body/health is not something we're privy to but from other parts of his life we can assume it was a participation in his time and place—a 1st century Jewish man. In the communities you're a part of, with the resources you have, with the identities you have welcomed, how will you be human with him?

I don't know what healthcare is available to you where you are, but a good doctor can tell you the side effects, refer you to counseling as you make choices, give you dose and timeline options. Even if you don't end up going on HRT, seeking out trans-inclusive healthcare and community is a good choice, and I would recommend learning your options. If you can't stop thinking about this, trust that it's worth taking seriously.

I wish you all the best in finding a church/community—there are people equipped to love all of you, and you deserve to find them. I relate with the nocturnal bit—I know Catholics usually have a Saturday night service, and every so often another kind of church will. Online community can fill gaps and give us other ways of connection as we look for physical communion. I wish I could promise affirming religious spaces in every place, but I can only pray and work for that to someday be the case.

So, to answer my lover's question, the travel time to see a loved one is worth it. The journey to the you more full of love is worth it, and the journey to find a spiritual home is worth it. If we are pilgrims on this earth, may the things in our control be done with love, may our journeys be faithful, may our bodies be Christ's body, trusting in the Love greater than anything we can do. How you will be a steward of God's creation is not something I can answer for you, but I believe in your ability to sow the seeds within you. HRT may be the next part of your creation—you can give yourself some time, talk to some people, sit with the idea, consider how you would handle regret, and don't let me tell you what to do, but ultimately there is only one way to know, and waiting until we're sure is stagnation if it is not an active waiting.

To quote my Easter/TDOV post: Come to life, beloved. God sees you. The first steps out of the tomb may be stumbling, the dawn too bright, but we will meet you in the garden, where you were first created. Bring with you whatever is still bleeding—Jesus believes in you, touches the ache in your ribs. Mistake him for a gardener; let him plant you anew. Look to the wound in his side, see how it births the Church, and continues to until there is room for you. Look through the holes in his hands and see the world you were redeemed for, the self that you have already found or may only imagine. God made the grapes, and Christ stands in the winepress with you. Trample out your wine.

And lastly, to turn the patron saint of receiving sacraments presenting as God calls, even unto death, Joan of Arc's affirmation into a command (and purposely quoting an angel in the process): Be not afraid. You were born to do this.

<3 Johanna

[hazbin-a-helluvamagines]

Hello ! I have a request for you so I hope you can do it ! 🩷 (no rush obviously, take your time ☺️💓)

I wanted to request for Verosika mayday and (she's my favorite gal) with a cute idol reader (they're in a relationship)

example for idol reader: (basically They're cute as hell)

Can be any gender you want

Verosika Mayday With A Cute Idol S/O

Now, I'll start this off with the obvious: before you start dating, she sees you as competition. I mean, how dare you come onto her turf and steal her fans?!

However, it doesn't take long for her to meet you with intent of threatening you away, only for her to begin swooning over you soon after.

You're just?? So sweet??? Like??

She's enamored with you, but she thinks it's suspicious. Soon after, though, she learns that it's not an act, that you really ARE that sweet and that cute.

It isn't long until you two start dating, and she makes it VERY clear to her posse that you're off-limits because you're HER sweet little S/O.

She'll also actually refrain from fucking people, either on earth or in hell, as long as she has you. She adores you beyond belief, viewing you as just too sweet to do that to.

Now, she's got that pop star money. So anytime she sees anything that even SLIGHTLY reminds her of you, congratulations, you've got twelve.

You two would bond over music, definitely. No matter what kind of music you sing (I assume pop based on the term 'idol'), and she'll even suggest karaoke dates for the both of you.

Plus, she'll integrate herself into your professional life, too, with collabs! Interchanging, switching vocals, with one of you singing your part of the main chorus and the other doing the backing vocals, and vice versa.

Another thing: she'll have you help with writing songs and everything! It's nice dating another musician, because you both know how to support each other endlessly.

If you're a succubus and you're interested in seducing humans together, perfect, she'll do that with you! But if not, that's okay, she only needs you.

Because you're so sweet and cute, though, it'd be a long time before she opened up about her psst relationship with Blitzø and how he broke her heart.

That said, she'll write a diss track about him with lines along the lines of "fuck you, got my new boo". She's petty, even if you aren't, and unless you say you're uncomfortable, she isn't gonna stop putting you in her pettiness anytime soon.

She'll help you with outfit coordination and ask for the same in turn, figuring that if you're both coordinated, it's a sly way to show everyone that you're hers.

PDA is a must, but it'll be lower than if you weren't an idol, because she doesn't want to risk you being made upset if it's in the tabloids. Anything that can be construed as 'friendly', she'll do in public. The kissing and stuff is saved for later. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

That said, if anyone ever flirts with you in public, she has no shame in making out with you or grabbing your ass right there in public, just to show that person that you're hers and only hers.

And likewise, if anyone ever flirts with her, she'll grab your hand and offer a cruel smirk while she turns them down.

"Yeeeeeah, no. I already have a fucking amazing S/O, who's most definitely better in bed than a lame fuckstain like you ever would be."

She'll try harder to get through rehab entirely for you. She wants to see that sweet, adorable smile on your face when she tells you that she's done with the Beelzejuice...

Basically, contrary to what you'd think, your sweetness an innocence inspires her to be better.

Although...

There's always a small part of her that wants to corrupt you more than anything else.

"Aww, S/O, you look almost good enough to eat~."

"Are you saying I'm sweet? :D"

"...Yeah."

She would never do that of course, but the thought is kind of just... there. But she loves you too much to ever try to do that to you.

All in all, Verosika is a good girlfriend to you, and both your professional and personal lives are filled with love and laughter together.

And she'll be damned if she lets anyone keep you apart...

Ever.

[jmdbjk]

Fan service

Just going through my 5GBs/800 images and vids in (just) my Jikook folder and noticed a lot... A LOT of fan service type images and stuff. Staggering. The amount of thoughtfulness and preparation Jungkook and Jimin have done for us through the years, sacrificing themselves all in the name of fan service...

Like this obviously staged and scripted reaction from Jungkook, sitting there waiting for Jimin to show up in comments:

Actually, go look at almost any of JK's lives and see him performing flawlessly. The timing is impeccable, how he spots Jimin's comments is 🔥 level reflexes.

This ultimate fan service live when Jungkook set up an hour and a half of fan servicing about Jimin:

Of course the fan service has been going on for YEARS...

This fleeting moment that someone snapped for fan service:

Was it Tae or Hobi that snapped the pic? We'll never know, they didn't bother to take a pic of themselves during this gorgeous sunset with either of these guys because... it was only for fan service.

And this random Instragram person who was in on the fan service agenda, and JK with the eagle eyes finding it amongst the 100s of 1000s of questions/comments:

I wonder if maybe he telepathed some questions out to the universe so these people from all over the place would know what to ask/say, like secret code shit?

And H.E.R. doing her part in fan service, its great to have willing participants for your fan service agenda:

I bet she's done this before too.

And of course this ultimate, elaborate and expensive fan service weekend getaway... anything for the fans:

The best part about it is, Jungkook didn't tell Jimin he was filming all this for fan service. Made him stay in a hotel room with no privacy in the bathroom in a hotel that caters to couples... the lengths... the sacrifices... bless them.

And here they are again, the never ending fan service, so tiring:

I bet they staged the entire Jack in the Box listening party just for jikook fan service. I wouldn't be surprised. Rented out the top floor of the HYBE building, catered it, all for fan service.

The general public is in on the fan service too. A random person taking sneaky fan service pics, great timing and teamwork:

And this random person too in on the sneaky fan service agenda, everyone playing their part in the charade:

This was one of many photos from this particular dinner (fake) date with non-celeb friends.

The general public really are the stars of fan service:

Another (fake) restaurant date but this time with other celeb friends.

But the eyes on the back of JK's head seeing his cue for FS? 💀:

How can he see through his hair though? That's my question. Sheer talent! 🔥 🔥 🔥 🔥 🔥

And JK's eyes on his face automatically performing fan service, must be muscle memory or something:

And his hands too, more muscle memory from all that fan service practice:

I can visualize it now... "Jimin, hold still, I need to practice feeling you up, stop squirming, I'm gonna have to use those handcuffs you brought home if you don't stop trying to get away..." um... wait... that went a little too far...

Anyway...

And this pre-planned-the-night-before fan service, they are such professionals always thinking of fan service, practicing, perfecting...I wonder how many times they had to do THIS to get it just right? :

I could say a lot here about "practice makes perfect" but I will refrain...

Hobi going off-script here taking Jimin by surprise... maybe it was something Jimin and Jungkook were practicing for fan service and Hobi almost spilled the beans?

And this ingeniously pre-programed mechanical ear reaction fan service...so clever:

This happy-as-shit-to-be-going-overseas fan service, JK and his fake bouncy happiness, Oscar-worthy. I wonder if they practiced in the car on the way to the airport:

The general public doing that fan service shit again... wonder how much they get paid for this? I want in on it:

Jungkook telling Jimin, "we have to go around a bunch of times to make sure that random person gets it right."

It's never ending, 24/7 fan service with these two. It must be very time consuming to come up with new fan service moments. I wonder what they will show us next?

[please read the tags for heavens sakes]

[zeglythworld]

I'm sorry, you’re entitled to your opinion, but dragging T into this is a bit uncalled for. He’s not the one she broke up with.

But it's really not uncalled for. Since the beginning of the month/1 yr anniversary, Rachel has made public statements directed to T. He has made none to her or any other TBOSAS cast, at least not to my knowledge. A simple nod to the cast & crew that made his career would have just been good manners. Acknowledgement of Rachel's performance, which also had a very positive impact on his career, should have been made, especially considering the fact he knows that it would have meant a lot to her. Everyone said, "Oh no, he's so private. He would never post that online." Apparently, his need for online privacy ended today.

We all know R has been going through some real shit from the haters trying to cancel her. It's been beyond ugly. She has been doing 8 shows a week and doing publicity & events from her 2 new movies on her days off, all while being raked over the coals. He has to have known this.

Now, we see evidence leading us to believe she has, over the same time frame, broken up with the guy she's been with since age 17-18. Again, this comes on the day T decides it's a good idea to post about his new relationship.

Obviously, he can date anyone he wants. But talk about insensitivity. His new woman didn't have a damned thing to do with his success up to now. Rachel did. He knows what she's going through right now. He's supposed to be her friend, an idea I now question. I think his posts today are, at best, insensitive and, at worst, cruel.

Fyi- I have been one of the biggest Zeglyth shippers up until now. Now I hope she sees SHE CAN DO BETTER.

Alright, I feel like I might be a bit late to answer this, but here we go. I’ll start by being completely honest and saying that I think some of you are placing unrealistic expectations on T. It’s important to remember that no matter how much we want and hope for them to be together, he’s still not her boyfriend. I’ve seen some people expecting him to behave like one and I think we need to be more patient because they are not there yet. He doesn’t have that kind of commitment to R and we can’t demand anything from him. Yes, he’s out and about with someone else, and I understand it can be frustrating, but it’s his life, and he has the right to move on. R was in a relationship before this too, and T wasn’t under any obligation to stay single and wait for her to decide to break up. I don’t think it’s fair to call him insensitive, cruel, or ungrateful just because he’s minding his business and enjoying his life. Also, he didn’t post or repost any of the pictures from last night. All of them were shared by other people. It’s not like he flooded his feed or made a big Instagram announcement about his new relationship. He didn’t do any of that. All he did was attend an event with the woman he’s currently dating, and I'm sorry, but there’s nothing wrong with that. Is the timing terrible? Absolutely. But it’s also not his fault.

I've explained so many of times why I think he’s refraining from interacting online and I still hold that opinion. I don’t think the fact that he didn’t do much for the movie’s anniversary changes how much he appreciates the project or the opportunities it gave him. He's talked about that plenty and you can look it up if you don't believe it. I also pointed out how he doesn’t engage with anything about BTK either, although we know he’s really proud of the show, loves the character and gets along really well with the cast. Some things go beyond social media, and it’s important to remember that no matter how much we speculate, we’ll never have the full context. At the end of the day, what matters is that he really adores R, and she knows that well. If he were such a terrible person and friend or she was truly bothered by his lack of public response, she would’ve stopped interacting with anything about him by now. He was supporting and standing by her during the toughest times of both her career and life. If you think he’s not doing the same or staying in touch with her now, it’s because you really don’t know them.

[displacedbias]

[Took me a hot second to find you anyways HIIII kindergala time!]

Felix couldn’t help but swear softly under his breath as he maneuvered through the far too bright gala in search for his brother. The blond hadn’t even the slightest clue HOW they winded up separated yet here they were and here he was ALONE.

The pitiful glances and horrified stares from everyone around him, all these strange yet familiar faces, all the judgemental eyes, were so much easier to handle with Teddy there. He felt less like a freak of nature with his brother by his side because at least they could understand eachother. At least they weren’t alone.

Christ if Felix himself was this worked up over it, he couldn’t imagine how Ted was fairing on his own. Was he ok? Did it not bother him? Was-

Felix was pulled from his panicked, derailing thoughts when he winded up bumping right into some blonde in a purple dress, sending them both to the floor with a thud.

“Ow-“

A sigh escaped him as he waited for Ozzy to return from the bathroom. Alice had already headed off by herself fairly early on upon arriving to the gala, and Teddy... Well, it wasn't often that Ted left Felix alone in places like these, knowing that Felix didn't fare well on his own in public functions. Teddy was always more of a social butterfly than Felix was; more sociable, easier to approach, always had more to say than Felix could ever dream of. However, it seemed even his brother had run off elsewhere, perhaps thinking he'd leave Felix to spend time with his date... who wasn't even here, at the present.

He refrained from letting out another sigh, fearing that he'd be seen as rude. That was the last thing he wanted-- more negative opinions on him than he already had at home.

As he busied himself with the tedious task of entertaining himself, it turned out to be the biggest mistake he could have committed when he should have been paying attention instead, apparently. He felt the impact first before he realized anything was happening-- And before he knew it, he was on the ground, sore, with someone else right there on the floor next to him.

Felix blinked once, then instinctively jumped to apologizing for... well, he didn't really know. He was still getting his bearings, still startled from what just happened.

——— " Oh goodness... M-My apologies... " He mumbled, thinking it was probably his fault for being in the way while the older person obviously seemed to be in a hurry. Oh, no, and now Alice's dress was probably dirty... if there even was dirt in the void.

And then he paused fussing over the dress once he actually took a closer look at who'd run into him. He froze. Was that... blood? And spiders? What a... peculiar style for the gala. Felix quickly shook himself out of those thoughts. --No, it was rude to stare, and he didn't want to make this guy feel self-conscious.

——— " Ah... Um... Are you alright...? " Felix decided to ask instead, concerned as he eyed the person who looked somewhat like himself. Aside from the obvious physical differences, of course.

——— " I, um... I didn't mean to get in your way... " He mumbled timidly, apologetically. He quickly scrambled to stand back up, not wanting to wrinkle the dress even more, and as he did, he reached out and offered a hand to help the other blond up.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

I’m in D&D group on discord that is mostly free to the public to apply to join a session that’s starting at the end of the summer. The session hasn’t started yet but people who want to apply can join and start roleplaying anyway. To preface this, I’m giving everyone fake names and this happened relatively recently. There was a channel for text roleplay and people could make their own threads. There is one person, James, who had admitted to being a minor, around thirteen from what their texting style implies, and they were role playing with Adam, who I believe is over 18. Adam started coming into James’ character, who was a minor as well. Keep in mind this is a public chat. Now this person, Jesse, started talking in the chat in brackets, and said “Not Adams’ character not realizing that James’ character is jailbait XD”. This situation is very obviously horrible and what makes it worse is that James’s character was actively fighting against Adam’s character. I said something in the discussion chat in the server about this situation, and said this is incredibly uncomfortable to watch, and Jesse said that what happened was wrong, but to “not be the bait” for creepy people and basically saying to not play under 18 characters. And afterwards when the discussion died down, Jesse said “Now let’s refrain from using public humiliation in the future.” Which I felt was very obviously a dig at me. Now, fast forward to yesterday, where James was being unintentionally mean to someone in the images chat where they posted their selfie. My friend Liam told them that it was incredibly bad manners to say something like that and to use tone indicators in the future if possible (many people in the server use tone indicators). All of a sudden Jesse chimed in and started arguing with Liam about how tone indicators are not needed and “you want a tone indicator? Use proper grammar and syntax.” And how “Language was actually built around *communication*, believe it or not.” (Paraphrasing that last part). And at this part I’ve had enough. I said “hey man you are literally arguing in a roleplay discord server over grammar this is a stupid hill to die on” and he basically said “I die on every hill” and continued to argue, with this high and mighty tone, using sarcasm and very obviously (to me and a few others I’ve talked to) talking down to me. I left it off and said: “dude this is incredibly stupid argument. You’re dying on a hill about grammar in a roleplay discord server.”. I brought this all up to the moderator, who has publicly said to contact them if you have a problem with someone, and nothing has been done yet. To top it all off, Jesse messaged Liam after the moderator contacted me, telling him “if you want to talk about something let’s talk like proper adults without getting others involved.”. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[abihastastybeans]

Hello! An anon recommended I drop “September Sprinkles” in people's askboxes sooooo here is yours. Obviously I could not say no to such a good and smutty idea 😂 Have FUN! Maybe it'll be something new, maybe it'll be wound in 👀

I can’t wait for you to be inside me

Hello my dear Athena, thanks for the September Sprinkles xD I hope you like this!👀 Prompt: Talkative (from @jilymicrofics' September list) (550 words)

After exchanging pleasantries with an old colleague, James found his eyes drawn to her. Lily stood at the other end of the hall, looking stunning in her navy-blue backless dress, her hair done half up. The smooth expanse of her pale skin shone in contrast against the dark, silky fabric under the golden lights from the crystal chandelier. She took a small sip from her champagne flute and, even from the distance, James observed the way her tongue glided slightly over her lower lip, licking away the stray drops.

James quickly downed his wine, placed the empty glass on a tray and made his way straight towards her.

"You look gorgeous," he said, treading an arm around her waist. Lily smiled, raising her head and James placed a quick kiss on her lips. Better to keep it short when in public.

"Thank you," Lily said. She slowly moved her hand down from his shoulder to his chest, stopping near his pinned boutonnière and tugged gently on his lapels before withdrawing her hand. "You look great as well."

James smiled. "Not as beautiful as you." When Lily made a sound of annoyance, he raised his eyebrows. "What?"

"You say all the right things!" She threw her arm exasperatedly before sipping her champagne. "It's so frustrating."

"I'm sorry," James grinned, shifting his weight onto one leg, "I didn't realise I was being frustrating."

"You are." Lily nodded seriously. "First, you enter the hall and every pair of eyes are on you - no respect for the fact that you are out of bounds - and you look this good-" her eyes did a cursory glance from his head to perfectly polished shoes, "-that I can't even blame them for looking. And then you go take off your coat and mix a bloody cocktail for the bosses. Folded sleeves and all..."

"I didn't realise I was being watched," he said, winking at her.

"Oh, It's ridiculous. I said 'hello' to all the old lecturers and then sat with some friends for a while," she sipped her champagne again, "but I had to go away because I was getting so turned on."

James laughed, looking around to see if anyone was near. "You are talkative when you are drunk."

"I'm not drunk! Just slightly tipsy, is all."

"Hmm..." James pulled her in closer and tested the waters by inching his fingers closer to her open back. Lily sighed when he drew tiny circles on her skin with the pads of his fingers but pushed him away soon.

"I was already all hot and bothered when I came to the party," Lily said.

"You were?"

Lily hummed. "I couldn't stop thinking about you when I was dressing up. And about all the things you would do to me."

James swallowed thickly. "Lily..."

"I know! It's very frustrating," Lily repeated, not looking at him. "I almost called you up because I really wanted you, but I refrained."

"You can't say things like that in a work party," James gave a breathy chuckle.

Lily pouted sadly. "I know," she said, straightening his tie. "I can't wait for you to be inside me."

And with that she walked away, leaving James to be standing frozen in place, hot under his collar, her final words reverberating inside his head.

[stellagibs0ns]

bedannibal kinks headcanons?

SO glad you asked. here are my opinions and elaboration. these are in no particular order. just what comes to my head as im typing

general dom/sun dynamics. i lean towards dom hannibal sub bedelia but i believe it absolutely goes the other way too on occasion.

adding onto that, i think bedelia finds a thrill in being able to give up her responsibilities and the control she obsesses over. she likes being told what to do and when to do it etc etc

hannibal enjoys the d/s stuff outside of the bedroom too on occasion. like if bedelia orders him around or tells him what to wear he is bricked UP

mild impact play (spanking, light face slapping etc — bedelia doesn’t mind the occasional tap on the cheek, but hannibal likes to receive full slaps. obviously)

hannibal has an untameable breeding kink. like i believe nothing is more thrilling to him than ‘claiming’ bedelia and (should it result in pregnancy) him being able to show their relationship/bond to the world

cnc is a big one because their relationship is generally very grey in canon. that being said i do believe hannibal is strict about a safeword and is very in tune to bedelia’s body and he understands what she enjoys. like he can tell during a scene if her ‘stop’ is a part of it or if she really means stop. but obviously that’s why they have a safeword

i don’t think they’re fully blown exhibitionists but i do think that they like to rile each other up in public. an occasional subtle touch or something dirty whispered in the others ear. i think they refrain from fully doing anything in public but enjoy pushing the other

bedelia is all for overstimulation. again she likes to give up that control and let hannibal make those choices for her.

hannibal much prefers edging. he likes to work for it and he is not above begging when it comes to her

THAT BEING SAID i think bedelia makes an excellent domme. she is very meticulous and patient. she knows how to get under his skin and how to make him bend to her.

appropriate follow up is that she pegs and he sees god every single time. we all know about that man’s overactive cowpers glands but let me tell you. BUCKETS.

THEY ARE BITERS. THEY WILL BITE UNTIL THERE IS BLOOD. and then a little more

bedelia likes having her hair pulled but hannibal has a sensitive scalp. he gets genuinely touchy about it. please don’t pull his hair he may cry

bondage is a hard no for bedelia unless it’s handcuffs. anything that restrains more than her wrists or ankles is too much for her. but hannibal teaches her how to work with rope because he luuuurves being tied up

body worship. i don’t have to say any more really. he loves his wife’s body

praise is BIG for both of them. but in certain scenes both of them like to be degraded a little. (hannibal more than bedelia. call him pathetic and he whimpers. call her pathetic and she may take it personally)

hannibal is not above period sex. someone had to say it so i guess i’ll do it!

and while we’re on the subject of things nobody wants to admit about hannibal. sometimes that man needs to just settle in for the night and suck his wife’s tit while she calls him a good boy. that man has appalling mommy issues and i’m gonna call it like i see it

somnophilia but only when bedelia trusts him. he occasionally wakes her up with oral and that is a special treat but she makes it clear that it doesn’t go further unless she says so

i think they’re too neurotic and picky for roleplay but they entertained the married couple thing in florence

i feel like i covered the important stuff here. if anyone wants more i can rustle something up. but i feel like i got the main ones

[spacemonkeysalsa]

Appetites

(Angst and fluff and smut)

It's been five years since the Vampire Ascendant Astarion helped save Baldur's Gate. He has everything he ever wanted, and he's miserable.

Isolde is nobody, and has nothing. When given the option to become a vampire spawn, her response gives Astarion a moment of pause; “No. Thank you. I think I’ll just die.”

Read Chapter One on Ao3

Read Chapter Two on Ao3

Read Chapter Three on Ao3

Read Chapter Four on Ao3

or read Chapter Four below the cut

He spied the bride to be and her groom, wondered if he could get away with neglecting to pay his respects to the host. Surely, the only people who would really mark his entrance were those who wanted to fuck him, or make a deal with him, or do him harm. As far as he knew, the Eltans didn’t number among any of them.

Some of their guests, however... He saw Baron De Cloyo—who had been all three at one point or another. The last time they spoke was when the Baron interrupted his solitude in the middle of the night to complain about Astarion not having murdered Isolde. As though he’d disobeyed a direct order . 

Astarion had actually been fascinated by how his investment in the relationship utterly vanished in that moment. 

“You know what they say about thine enemy’s enemy,” someone murmured to him, Astarion resisted the urge to tilt his head around and see who it was, waiting instead for the speaker to step around, bow, introduce himself like a civilized person. “Well met,” Baron Horrold eventually fell in line with public decorum and Astarion inclined his head in return.

“You’ll have to remind me,” Astarion knew it would be rude to immediately excuse himself, but Astarion and Horrold had never been officially introduced, so it would also be the kind of thing that could ensure they never did have any productive interaction.

“My take away was always that they present a fine opportunity—something I believe you know how to recognize?”

“Oh, I’ve some experience on the matter, but I do rather enjoy when it’s explained to me,” Astarion lied, but did so smoothly, inviting. Let Horrold show his hand first. There was nothing in particular that Astarion wanted from him, but like any powerful elite in the city, there were always things he could get from him, if he could make the relationship work.

Perhaps Horrold realized his approach had been too eager already, because his cheeks went a little pink. “I just wonder what you did to De Cloyo; seems he dislikes you even more than he dislikes me. Impressive.”

“Oh, I hurt him,” confessed Astarion. “Inadvertently, but there it is,” He caught a waiter and snatched up a glass, draining it more to have something to do than to quench an imaginary thirst. “It wasn’t even about him—but then again, would that make you feel better?”

“No,” Horrold raised an eyebrow at Astarion, expression pensive for a moment, “I’ve never known it to not be about me.”

He sounded so sincere that Astarion had to refrain from releasing a bark of genuine laughter. 

Obviously, he wasn’t depressed. If he was, he couldn’t possibly take so much amusement in the Baron’s complete lack of self-awareness.

“Is it still Baron then, or are we back to calling everyone by their family names only and referring to them as patriars? I rather fell asleep during the missive,” Astarion confessed.

“Horrold or Joerg is fine, but I like Baron,” Horrold smirked, “even if the Duke did want us to go back to the old ways, I think it would stick as a nickname, if nothing else.”

“Yes, true enough. Policies like that can lead some prick to calling himself ‘The Emperor’ and everyone following suit.”

“I suppose,” Horrold seemed rightly baffled by the comment, but recovered quickly by getting back to his own point, “And nothing can displace my family from the pedestal I’ve carved for them in the city elite. Baldur’s Gate needs us.”

“I’m sure,” Astarion was not sure.

“Your place is curious to me. I’d like to know more. I’d like to be involved.” Horrold kept his voice low, which in their present setting actually made him seem more conspicuous.

But Astarion wasn’t entirely put off. He could be a valuable ally. But he needed to be trained. Better to begin things in a more controlled setting. “Why don’t we arrange something later in the week? I don’t believe I’ve had you in my home before, seems a dreadful social oversight on my part.”

“You’re forgiven, and your invitation accepted,” the Baron gave a curt nod. “I’ll see what my man has on the schedule and arrange something with yours.”

“Excellent.” A bit of an exaggeration, but at least the evening was shaping up to be a productive one. Astarion released the Baron back to the party and forced himself to seek out a few others. Monotonous, tedious conversation followed in much the same vein as what had proceeded, and by the time midnight rolled around, he was drained by it all.

This kind of thing used to be relaxing for him. Social gatherings of the more banal type didn’t give him energy the way a more raucous event might, but it hadn’t felt like work since… 

Since it hadn’t been his choice.

Was that the problem? Was that what had robbed him of his passion, his appetites?

He could do whatever he wanted now, so why did it feel like he was following directions from some unseen master? Someone very boring who he none-the-less had to take direction from?

The simplest answer was that it was because he was doing quite a lot, and none of it felt like his idea anymore. Maybe it never had been.

At one time, the prospect of finally having the freedom to find out what he wanted had kept him from total, intentional self-destruction. But, at some point, he’d taken it for granted. No one was telling him what to do any longer. He could do whatever he wanted.

And he still didn’t know what that was.

He was just doing what… he used to do, minus a few atrocities and diabolical schemes.

Old habits had him slipping into the seams of the party, finding the quiet, intimate places purposefully structured into the Eltan house to allow for tucking away with someone. Not even to make love just out of sight in a public place—though that had its appeal—but just to have them all to himself for a moment, to hold them and watch them watch him and savor every little interaction. All his.

Even when it was meaningless. Just a bit of fun, or even something more tragic. It was the part when he felt the pain and the pleasure heightened.

Assuming he felt anything.

The Eltans had opened their home to the great and the good of Baldur’s Gate, but that was apparently a broad category of persons because the manor house was overburdened with bodies. It took a hike into the next wing to find any isolation. Someone had clearly planned for and enabled the possibility that some of the guests might wander to find some privacy, because the candelabra were still lit, all the way into the more deserted halls.

The library seemed like a quiet place to find a comfortable lounge. He needed a moment to clear his head before he went back to that place that didn’t feel like home, though he’d lived there for centuries.

What did he want? 

When was the last time he was sure he’d done something he really wanted to do? It could be something small, he just needed to think.

Astarion wasn’t the only person who had been looking for a little privacy in the crowded party, however. He entered the softly lit library, only to find it occupied. The couple didn’t notice him come in, right away.

They were propped up on a writing desk that was a little too dainty for their purposes. The woman had her legs dangling on either side of her partner as he seemed to struggle with her bodice between them. They clearly hadn’t quite gotten to the act yet, but at this rate Astarion doubted that they would, and couldn’t help but evaluate the whole scene and find it wanting on a few levels. 

Gods, the man was doing it all wrong and the woman did nothing to help. Absolutely no support to any part of her body, she was just sitting there, trapped against the wall behind the desk, pinned in such a way so she couldn’t even use her hands. Then he saw the woman’s eyes over the man’s shoulders.

It was Isolde.

And, she wasn’t exactly fighting her partner off, but it was obvious in the stiff way she held her limbs that she didn’t want to be there.

He waited until she saw him, her gaze widened but she didn’t say anything, just stayed frozen and trapped where she was.

Astarion spared the immediate area a glance and noticed a crystal glass vase on display on its own shelf on the wall. Something to divide the otherwise relentless rows of dusty books. With an undisguised shove, he toppled it to the ground, expecting it to shatter on the polished wood floors.

To his disappointment, the vase bounced, ringing loudly from the impact, but it was fully intact still.

The man pawing at Isolde broke away from her with a yelp and whirled around.

“Gods, how embarrassing,” Astarion swanned along the nearest bookshelf, “had no idea anyone was in here.”

The man was quite good at buttoning up his own trousers quickly, even if his other movements could use some polish. He righted his waistcoat with a tug, but didn’t spare Isolde a look. His face was quite red, but aside from that, didn’t betray the slightest reaction. He eyed Astarion, but whatever judgment he passed on him didn’t reach his lips, instead he simply said, “No one is,” and quit the room.

Melodramatic, even for a patriar.

Astarion watched the man’s back as he slunk into the hallway, then turned to face Isolde, unsure if he’d be met with gratitude or wrath or relief or—

She looked distraught. So much so that it actually stopped him mid stride as he approached her. Isolde righted her skirts, and put her feet back on the ground, but was facing her shoes even as his shade fell on her. He was just about to ask her whatever was the matter, when she recovered. 

He blinked and the shame on her face was replaced entirely.

In its place she wore a placid mask. “You’ve saved me again, My Lord.”

“You didn’t appear to be enjoying yourself,” he remarked with what he hoped was a particularly casual version of his most elegant shrug. “I do hope the manner in which I interfered was the right choice for the situation. I suppose I could have offered to educate the poor fool  on his technique.”

“It didn’t break,” Isolde indicated the vase, still on the ground where Astarion left it.

“Ah, so it would seem,” Astarion returned to the discarded vase and picked it up, “no harm done, but then again—” he dropped it a second time, this time putting a little force into it. The vase shattered in a satisfying rain of sparkling crystals that sprinkled across his fine boots. “There. A little wedding present for the Eltans. Nothing better than curiosity, is there? I wonder who they’ll blame?”

Isolde regarded him with eyebrows slightly raised. He thought it looked a little like she was resisting the urge to laugh. Why resist? He found he rather liked making her laugh. “Wicked of you,” she indulged in only a smirk, her attention briefly flitting back to the front of her bodice. She appeared to be wearing the same gray silk gown that she’d had on when he saw her at Wyrm’s rock. It was one of those items designed to be appropriate for day or night, and probably the nicest thing she owned, but all the same, suggested a certain level of neglect that her Lady let Isolde be seen in it twice in such quick succession.

“You seem a touch dour, or is it just the disappointment left by an inadequate lover?”

“I’m elated, honestly,” she said in a voice so unconvincing he half expected her to burst into tears the moment after she said it. “My Lady will be the one disappointed. But I think I can endure it better than I could endure him.”

“Your Lady? What’s it to do with her?”

“She was quite set on rewarding his aid to the family with whatever he wanted, and he wanted me,” she revealed simply.

Astarion felt an old pain, deep in his empty gut. 

Her expression changed when she looked at him, like she’d seen something unexpected. She checked her hair with her fingers, trying to tame where he’d kneaded at her carefully coiffed hair, bringing it down in messy curls where it was meant to be pinned back.

“Allow me?” Astarion motioned to her hair, waiting for her to allow him to touch her.

For a moment Isolde looked like she didn’t understand, but then she lowered her hands and nodded, straightening out her neck and leaning in so he could work with what she had left.

Isolde wore a thin band just above her hairline and tucked under the nap of her neck, mostly hidden as she’d braided and pinned the curls into it to create an elegant, gradually elongating fall of dark hair that flowed down the back of her neck. It was loose, which didn’t seem to be the original intent in the work. Astarion tried to find where it was fixed to her scalp, perhaps it simply needed to be tightened.

Being this close to her again caused him to reflect on the night they met, and how she’d clung to him. Her pulse was speeding up again, and he hoped she wasn’t thinking about that. Reflecting on the night one almost died couldn't be much better than reflecting on the night one did die. She didn’t seem upset though, and the way her heart raced didn’t suggest that she was thinking about running for her life, it was the familiar, nearly dancing rhythm of increasing body heat and arousal.

Her face was serene, her breathing even. He liked being close to her, liked feeling how she liked it too, but he didn’t want to find himself mistaken. He shouldn’t assume. Even if she did want him, which he was fairly certain she did, he was too well versed in these matters to dismiss the reality that surely, some part of her was waiting to be rescued from him.

 “Hywel won’t bother me again,” she exhaled slowly, but still he didn’t think her nerves were those of someone who wanted him to get as far away from her as possible. “You probably didn’t get a good look at his face when he realized we weren’t alone. He was furious. Like he suddenly remembered how worthless I am and—he’ll deny he ever wanted me. As I said. I’m saved.”

“Worthless?” That gave him a little pause and Astarion sighed. “Oh dear. This probably isn’t the kind of thing I can offer much of a counterpoint for, sweet one.” The band pulling her hair together wasn’t just loose, it was broken. The brute must have snapped it. Astarion realized if he tried to return even one more lock of hair back to its place, the whole thing would probably fall out, so he took a moment to assess the task.

“I’d ask for none,” but she said it with such a heavy sigh that it was clear she had been hoping for some soothing word. 

From Astarion, of all possible monsters.

“To be perfectly honest, I don’t have the highest regard for the sanctity of any life, nor for the individual.”

“I suppose you couldn’t,” Isolde observed, “that would interfere with…”

“Sustaining my existence by consuming others? Somewhat, yes,” Astarion straightened up and walked around the side of the writing desk, trying to get a better look at the back of her head. “We may need to rethink strategy on this, I’m sorry to say.”

“Oh no, is it hopeless?” Isolde started to reach for her hair again, but the smart girl stopped before she made it worse, looking at Astarion out of the corner of her eye. “Help. Please.”

“All is not lost. Give me a moment.” Astarion rested his chin on his hand, taking in the whole image of her. The goal needed to be to find a way to style her hair that looked effortlessly elegant and not like she had just haphazardly attempted to restyle it without a mirror after being amorously groped in a dark library. “Permission to start anew?”

“I knew it. I’m hideous. Do what you must.”

“Oh, yes. Repulsive,” Astarion gave her a lecherous glance that he was quite pleased to see caused her face, neck and chest to all turn bright red. He slipped the tie from her hair and let the last of the curls fall. “Turn your neck. Good girl.”

Half-up would suit her, he just needed to decide on the height and the type of braid and how to plait it. 

Surely, Isolde didn’t really hold herself in such poor regard. She was just hoping to inspire some sympathy in him so he would pay her compliments. But then he thought back to that night again, and how she hadn’t fought for herself. 

It would have been so easy to despise her for such despair and cowardice. Maybe he ought to. 

Giving all the way up on herself like that, what could one expect? If she didn’t care about herself, why should anyone else?

“Worth is often measured in comparisons,” he mused, loosening the braid with deft fingers as he decided it was too tight, better to look soft with the rest of her curly mane. “But. I have seen gods, celestials, inscrutable fey, and devils fall as ignominiously as any poor mortal wretch. In the end, we’re all equally worthwhile, and all equally worthless.”

Isolde already looked better. He was quite good at this. 

“Take that for what comfort you can. You have just as much a right to live, and be a nuisance, and take others for your prey as anyone.”

She snorted, and he couldn’t tell for a moment if she was once again denying him the pleasure of hearing her laugh, or trying to hold something else back. 

“Apologies,” he smoothed out the fall of her hair, tucked the frame back behind her cute stubby human ears and admired the results. “Not for the hair, that looks incredible. I’m very good. But, I do apologize that nothing I have to say can be of particular comfort. Especially given the fact that I’m a reminder of the worst night of your life.”

She did laugh, finally. A sharp, nearly bitter sound. “My Lord, I testify, that night was not even the tenth worst of my life.” All humor gone, but she did look lovely.

“I’m genuinely distressed to hear it. But you're in good company, at least.”

“For the moment,” he wasn’t sure what sparked the feeling, it might have been the soft smile and evasive blush when she faced him and the way her entire body seemed to relax when their eyes met again. For the first time in a long while, he felt the stirring of hunger. It wasn’t so strong as to compel him to lean in and bite down, but warmth spread up from the pit of him into his jaws and he felt his mouth salivate. It was a pleasant feeling, actually. He used to agonize over the constant hum of hunger. He used to personify it as a second tormentor, but removed from his old fears and weaknesses, it transformed into something different, though no less dangerous.

He didn’t need to feed. His elevated state kept him strong even after long fasts, and spare feasts, but the sweet savor of strong blood was an intoxicating memory that he’d managed to connect with after a few dull years of dissatisfaction. He knew in that moment that if he did bite her, he would finally feel that rush that had eluded him. But, if he went too far, he’d regret it.

For a moment, Isolde regarded him with bemusement, but he saw understanding starting to light her face, and tension returned to her neck and shoulders. “You’re… thinking about killing me again, aren’t you?”

“No,” he insisted, partly honest—he’d only thought about it long enough to confirm that he wouldn’t. “No,” he put a hand on her forearm, letting his thumb caress the inside of her wrist. “No, but I was thinking of asking something rather impertinent.”

“Oh, I adore impertinence.” Isolde pressed into his touch, fingertips finding purchase on one of the fine silver buttons on the front of his waistcoat. Her knees began to part, shuffling the fabric of her dress and making space for him to wade into her touch.

She would have made such a fun spawn. Perhaps she still could.

He grabbed her jaw, more firmly than intended, but she didn’t flinch and he lightened his touch to ghost his fingers down her throat. That throbbing quickened, and he felt it glide to keep pace with his own rhythm. “You entice me. May I?” It wasn’t fair, probably, to wait until his lips were brushing the soft skin just beneath her eyes to ask. 

What chance did she have? Indeed, he felt her breath already coming in ragged. 

“Just a taste,” he punctuated with a light kiss over her racing artery. “And you can say no. Forget pertinence. the titles, the traditions of the Gate, the fine rooms in old houses. Some day, our Duke, your masters,  will be dead as any rat that drowns in the Chionthar and all with burn, and maybe while wandering the fugue plane they’ll realize they made it all up and it was pointless . What matters right now, is what you want, and what I want. So, tell me yes, or tell me no. Do you want to be tasted?”

“Astarion,” she said in a soft gasp, “please.”

“Say that again,” he purred into her throat, letting his teeth brush her flesh.

“Yes. Astarion, please.” Isolde pulled at him, encouraging him to press in more firmly against her, though it already felt like he was falling on top of her.

Astarion pinched the soft skin of her neck between his teeth, but didn’t break through right away, he could smell the blood, but wouldn't drink yet. He enjoyed the sensation of her shivering anticipation under his breath. He cupped her head, to keep her from collapsing away from him, his other hand finding purchase at the very center of her neckline, gently brushing her flushed and heaving chest.

“Oh, God,” she whispered when he finally bit down. Her grip on him tightened, and he could feel blood and breath coursing through her, into him. The warmth of her spilled into his mouth. She tasted better than he’d imagined, but the yearning lust for her couldn’t be satisfied with a mouthful. He wanted more of her. Her blood, her body, and more of that voice crying his name.

If you take more, you could lose her. Just like you lost everything else. Astarion stopped, but kept his mouth pressed against the seeping marks as she rocked her hips against his, her legs straining to embrace him. The rush of warm blood seemed to flow straight to his cock. A sharper, more desperate gasp ripped from her throat. “Astarion, I —” she covered her mouth, falling to pieces in his arms as thousands had before. He held her close, hands pressing into her back and sliding downwards to her hips, encouraging her to grind into him, a titillating whine escaped her lips.

He forced himself to release her and leaned back. All things considered, the bite was clean and she barely seemed woozy. Instead, Isolde’s eyes were wide, sparkling, she shook her head in disbelief, “I can’t believe—tell me that’s normal , please?” The heat in her face had caused her to break out in glistening sweat in her hairline. “I’m mortified,” she confessed.

“Can’t say I’ve ever made anyone come just from biting them before,” Astarion wiped his mouth, with the blade of his thumb, not wanting to waste a drop. “At least not so enthusiastically. You’re delicious , my dear.”

Mortified accurately described how she looked. He tried not to betray a level of amusement that would embarrass her further, but Gods, it was funny. If she wouldn’t laugh, then he could make her cry out again. The moment of ebb had actually made him harder, and he started to gather her skirt up in his fists, but the look on her face gave him pause.

“Isolde. What’s the matter?” He heard the way concern sounded so sharp in his voice, and took a small breath, trying to tame it, trying to soften the words. “You’re all right.” He let go of her dress, letting it fall, and laid his hands over hers, cautious, and she managed a steady exhale that seemed to calm her. Though she still looked a little lost through her pretty face. 

“You’ve done nothing wrong. There’s no need to feel…” what Astarion wanted to say twisted in his throat. He realized he didn’t actually know how she felt. He knew how he used to feel. He knew why he used to feel that way. It was tempting to project onto her, but then he’d probably just end up being wrong. He hated being wrong. “Are you still afraid of me?” 

Was that all? Some conflict in her soul? Some distant voice of self preservation telling her to run from the predator?

Gradually she nodded, but then said, “It’s not what you think.”

“Tell me what I think,” he challenged.

“I don’t believe you’ll hurt me,” Isolde started, and the tender way her sparkling black eyes rested on him tugged at some buried moment. “Or, I don’t believe you want to hurt me. Rather… this is all just fun for you, isn’t it? It doesn’t mean anything.”

Well. Fuck. This again. He’d hoped she wasn’t so tender-hearted. It was easy enough to fane a little sincerity to preserve her feelings. He’d done it hundreds of times and had perfected the smile, the gentle delivery of exactly what she wanted to hear; “ of course it means something. Of course I care for you. In my way .” But he couldn’t bring himself to say it, to wear the mask again, even if it was in an attempt to make her feel better.

“No, Isolde. It doesn’t mean anything.” Astarion didn’t know if he was being cruel or kind. He’d always struggled to evaluate such things in the first place. He’d simply landed on the understanding that he didn’t have to lie to her, and he didn’t want to. “At least, it doesn’t mean what you want it to.” 

She was looking down at their hands, folded over one another in her lap. Was she more disappointed in him or in herself?

“Precious few people have ever let me feed off them. Most of the time, my diet of strong blood comes from the very unwilling. When I do get the rare chance to share in a moment like that one… I realize it’s a gift, and I am grateful. But. I cannot give you what you want in return. No matter how much I might want to. I’m not sure I’m capable.”

“I know that,” Isolde sounded steady enough but still wouldn’t break her intense study of her own lap and their hands clasped together there. “I do. And, I didn’t expect otherwise. It’s not really a gift otherwise,” she shrugged. “I just… I also didn’t expect to like it so much,” her voice sharpened to a whisper, “and I think for a moment I got a little carried away. Forgive me.”

“You got rather carried away is what happened,” Astarion corrected her with one raised eyebrow, “And I too, liked it much more than I expected.” He didn’t want to let go of her hands just yet, but he did want her to look up at him. He leaned it to tease a kiss, letting the tip of his nose touch her cheek. It worked, and her head shot up, mouth listing for his own, eyes fluttering.

He pulled back, “As I said, you did nothing wrong. There’s nothing to forgive.” In this one way, he didn’t have to be measured, didn’t have to hold onto some part of himself for control. He captured her mouth with his own. His coaxing was effective, in that she seemed to forget her sadness, or maybe she was using it. She reciprocated, eager, sloppy even, she slipped her hands free from his, and her fingers found their way to the back of his neck, working into the hair at the nap of his neck.

She delved deeper with her tongue, her legs tightening around him again. If he let her take control, what would she do? Although there was something decidedly inexperienced about some of her smaller, flailing little movements, he was tempted for a moment to let her guide him, and see where she took them. She broke away with a gasp, short of breath already. 

Breath was something he didn’t actually need, which made certain acts so much easier for him. Her eyes were glassy, but alight, the rush of red through her face and chest intensified as she looked at him, seemingly unable to articulate her desire, or her question, or maybe any words at all as she swallowed and took another steadying breath.

He’d have to spare her again, it seemed. She was simply in no condition to be coherent.

Astarion slid to his knees between her spread legs, gathering the silk skirts up to her hips again with her latent, but eventually frantic help. In the low light, he couldn’t see much, but he slid one hand up the inside of her thigh, just brushing the trembling flesh until his fingers pressed into her. Her underwear was soaked, her cunt throbbing just on the other side. He hooked his fingers through the fabric. She let out a small gasp, her legs instinctively coming together a moment as he pressed into her wet, sensitive clit before beginning to pull the underwear off.

She gasped again, but this one was different—Isolde shot up from the table, pushing her skirts back down, and Astarion released his grip on the underwear he’d managed to work down to the middle of her fat thighs. She was looking past him, eyes wide at the doorway.

This library must be cursed.

Astarion swiveled his head around, and wasn’t terribly surprised to see a pair of young ladies—he didn’t recognize them, but they were dressed fashionably enough that they could easily be the daughters of some patriar families. They looked surprised to see him in a way that suggested, that they did, in fact, know him .

He stole a sideways glance at Isolde, still as red in the face as ever, though the context was suddenly sheepish. Mortified . He remembered her saying just minutes ago.

Their encounter wouldn’t recover from this. He could probably carry on, but Isolde? She’d been caught in a compromising position for the second time in a single night. Maybe she’d had too much to drink. Maybe she was the source of the curse. Maybe, now was a good moment to rethink everything. 

He sighed internally and then released it, and approached the women at an angle, blocking his would-be partner from sight, to give Isolde another moment to pull herself together. “My apologies,” he gave a small bow. “Alas, you have indeed thwarted a terrible rake. The poor woman’s virtue remains intact, thanks to your timing.”

He thought he heard something like a laugh coming from Isolde, but he could have been imagining it.

“How scandalous,” one of the girls giggled behind her hand.

“Oh, quite,” Astarion agreed with another drawn out sigh. “But, they’ll be other days and other unoccupied libraries. This one is all yours,” and he gathered up every inch of both of them in a searching look, “For. Whatever it is you need it for. The two of you.”

The two young women gawked up at him, mouths open. “Oh—ah, no,” one of them finally protested, “I was just going to show her a book—”

“Yes. Charming books in here! I assume,” Astarion let out a chuckle. Isolde appeared by his shoulder. Her hair still looked excellent, and she’d gotten cinched up tight rather quickly. He wondered if she’d abandoned her underwear, somehow situated it back into position that quickly—or if the garment was still constricting her thighs right where he’d left it, just a few soft inches below that delicious little wet cunt.

“Excuse us,” he shooed the ladies aside and ushered Isolde through the doorway without a backward glance, though he heard a scoff from one of them. He didn’t bother to wait until they were out of earshot before he said to Isolde, “well, if they weren’t going to fuck before, they should now.”

“You think so?” Isolde cleared her throat. She was still flushed, still obviously quite overwarm and underworked, but he knew better than to think they would get another chance now.

“In my experience, most people just need an opportunity and a suggestion.”

“Oh,” was all Isolde had to say to that.

He checked his buttons with the tips of his fingers but everything was still perfectly in place; Figaro had such an admirable understanding of the need for a waistcoat that hid one’s erection.

It had felt like such a long, wandering path through the Eltan estate’s dark hallways to get here, but as the two of them marched back, it seemed like they were woefully close to the rest of the merriment and the crowd after all. He stopped her, taking her by the arm and bringing them both to a halt before they could come back into the glow of the party, just at the mouth of the last deserted turn of the hall.

Isolde melted into the pressure of his touch, turning back to face him, eyes trailing along his lips back up to his eyes. He wondered if some part of her hoped to be stolen away into another deserted room to finish what they started—or perhaps she’d even submit to him right here.

“I want to take you home, and tie you to the bed, and keep you there to do with as I like,” he traced the backs of his fingers down the side of her face, watching his words shiver through her. “I am not certain Horrold would approve. But there’s easy ways around that. I can be patient. If I send for you, will you come to me?”

“I want to,” Isolde swallowed, something bubbling up in her breathless words. A similar reluctance to what he’d seen in her before. Was she sure she wanted this? Was she frightened? Yes. That was probably it.

“What are you afraid of?” It was something besides what she’d said before, he could tell. The fact that he was just looking for a good time and she was in danger of getting hurt was a risk she was clearly willing to assume, when it came down to it.

“I do not want to be a spawn,” Isolde said firmly.

Astarion let out a single note of a laugh; dismissive and cruel his voice sounded, he felt a slight twisting in his gut. “I know. I remember. You’d rather die. No worries, my dear. I have no intention of trying to change your mind.” A lie. Perhaps, the kind that was so obvious it would barely be called a lie, but still. “And how could I? I saw for myself that your desire to be free outweighed even your desire to live.” Her full, swollen mouth was so close and still so warm and soft from their encounter. He stole one more kiss, brief and teasing under the conditions. “What other desire could possibly be stronger than that?”

Isolde responded with a sharpening stare, and finally a shrug.

Astarion could have laughed at her again, but resisted the urge. “I’ll see you later darling, I’m sure.”

[maicrowave]

ello

I have some thoughts, but I want to say them in a way that isn't aggressive or patronizing.

obviously a lot of jokes and discourse are newly on the table in the modern dan & phil era, especially in comparison to 2013.

i think the main principle is to follow their lead. ten years ago, they were pretty clearly setting boundaries for things they Didn't Want To Talk About (sexuality, relationships). Boundaries that people (fans, coworkers, interviewers) crossed over and over. It's worth noting I'm not really talking about fanfiction here—banning rpf is futile, and, lest you forget Dan Howell said he has read youtuber rpf for fun—I'm talking about real life speculation. I believe that's what hurt them.

in the modern era, let's learn from that (probably kinda traumatic) time and follow their lead. they're both openly gay—gay discourse is fine! They're pretty ambiguous about their relationship (see: "are we gay? did we fuck?" quote from dystopia daily's 'Dan and Phil Tell the Truth' video), so jokes of that caliber are ok (imo).

On the other hand... Invasions of privacy? Trying to "prove" things about their personal lives that they've repeatedly stated they don't want to elaborate on? Especially posting that "proof" to public websites. Bringing up past content, posts, etc, that they clearly still don't want to acknowlege? Let's refrain.

Obviously dnp have come to terms with a lot of this stuff existing on the internet... then again, they didn't exactly have a choice. but here's my thoughts: tumblr is a public website, literally anyone can make an account. Dan and Phil want to get into the mainstream via acting/writing projects. If they get popular enough, mainstream media outlets will dig, and some of the personal old stuff is not hard to find... and even easier to look for if people are talking about it all the time. And I would hate, despise even, to see some detached popular media outlet make some "tea" article containing personal stuff from dnp's past that they've tried to move on from/delete. So just... keep in mind plz. I don't want to make them hurt/sad again.

tl;dr: if you're older in the fandom, let's set a good example for any incoming or younger ppl and meet dnp where they're at with the jokes & content, and avoid invasions of privacy!

[princelylove]

Hello dear prince! I’m starving for Leone content. I was rereading some of your past writings and was wondering how Leone would be with a reader who would..tease..him back? I don’t know if that was the right word but you’ve mentioned how Leone would love to play. And i LOVEEE the sound of that. Darling is gonna fed into it big time. Darling just loves to push his buttons :3

Leone gets in his head about it no matter how happy he is initially.

Don't lift one side of his headphones to see what he's listening to- especially if you're just going to let them snap back into place. It's a fantastic way to see Leone try to pretend to be annoyed for his reputation's sake- God forbid Narancia starts to think it's fair game to play just because you can have your way with him.

He's pretty amused, in your point of view. You may earn yourself a small laugh, more of a "Hmhmhm," or you may earn yourself a snide comment or two.

"Such sharp fangs. Are you the big, bad wolf?"

He'll think about how stupid that sounded all night. You're mocking him, and he hit you with a moronic one-liner he thought of while watching Guido's westerns.

You're messing with him. He's reading into it. You're disrespecting him casually and he's letting you get away with it, because you're the love of his life and he's delusional enough to think that you're actually happy to play with him. God.

He copes by pretending nothing's wrong, as per normal. Leone normally pushes bad feelings aside until he can wipe his face alone in his bathroom. He likes to check if he's still a pretty crier while he's getting it out of his system, just in case you happen to make a grown man cry one day.

But, if you ever express it is just your way of being affectionate, he's significantly happier to humor you. Leone will pretend to be grumpy in public, but you might actually make him smile if you're alone.

One of his favorite games is when you pretend you're going to bite him, because he gets to play damsel in distress until you really do.

"Ohh no, don't hurt me," He always starts off as obviously sarcastic as possible, but you've learned to pick up on the fact that he's a bit scared you're going to really do it. What if you figure out he likes it? What if you think less of him? "I'm not nearly enough calories for a full meal."

Should you say that he is, or suggest that he'll do nicely for a snack, he refrains from begging you to actually eat him.

Just kidding. He's a weak, weak man.

"Maybe you should try it then."

[clotpolesonly]

There You Are

a few days late cuz i was out of town and posting from my phone, but my ficlet for the Stiles Shipping Central discord server's monthly exchange!! for @just-another-busy-fangirl and the prompt of "inhuman" | Stackson | Teen | 900w | Established Relationship | Kanima Jackson | Non-sexual D/s | Dom Stiles | Sub Jackson | Fluff | (also on AO3)

Jackson threw himself down into Stiles' lap with a growl that was growlier than usual. Stiles got a glimpse of slitted yellow eyes on his way down. He put a hand on the back of Jackson's head, scratching at the nape of his neck.

“You okay, hun?”

Jackson grunted at the pet name—he always said that one in particular made Stiles sound like a hick, but he also got grumpy when Stiles went too long without using it—and turned so that his face was buried in Stiles' stomach. 

“I poked holes in another mitt.”

Stiles grimaced. “Coach gonna fine you for it?”

“Who cares about that? I could buy the whole team new mitts, no big deal.” Jackson untangled his hand from where it had wrapped itself in Stiles' hoodie and held it up; all five claws were on display. “This is the big deal, dumbass.”

This made the sixth incident of lost control in a month, and the third in public. Stiles took Jackson's hand in his with a sigh. 

“You'll get it,” he said. “You're Jackson fucking Whittemore, remember? You excel at everything, or so you always say.”

Jackson scowled up at him. He transferred his scowl to the claws, but they did not retract. The scowl deepened. Eventually, he yanked his hand out of Stiles' hold and sat up. 

“I can't fucking do it! This is so goddamn stupid, I just— I get up in my head about it, and when I think too much, I can't—”

The yellow eyes were back, and a patch of scales was creeping its way up Jackson's neck. Stiles reached out to take Jackson's face in his hands, to make him slow down before he worked himself up even more. 

He said, “Then stop thinking so much.”

He hadn't really expected that to work, and he was not disappointed. At least Jackson's scoff derailed the rant. 

“Yeah, because it's that fucking easy.”

He didn't shake off Stiles' touch, though. He leaned into it, slitted eyes slipping closed. When Stiles slid his grip around to his nape and squeezed, Jackson gave a familiar shudder. Stiles smiled. Then he bit his lip, brow furrowing.

“What if I…” He trailed off until Jackson looked at him, half impatient and half concerned at his unusual hesitation. He tried again. “Would it help if I…made you stop thinking?”

Confusion overtook Jackson's expression. 

“Well, you always say that submitting to me makes your head empty. I just thought—”

“That is not what I say.”

Stiles waved him off. “Close enough! Look, do you think that some direction from me would help you get out of your head and stop overthinking your shift? Or would it make things worse by, like, increasing the pressure or something? Making you worry that you'd let me down by slipping up?”

Jackson frowned, but his cheeks were embarrassed-pink instead of angry-red. He took a fistful of Stiles' hoodie again as he thought over the proposition. Stiles hoped he wasn't putting holes in it like he had the mitt, but he manfully refrained from saying so.

It was probably only thirty seconds before Jackson slid to his knees, but it felt way longer to Stiles. He would've gladly accepted either answer, obviously, but in his opinion there was never a single hour of any day that wouldn't be improved by Jackson kneeling for him. He grinned as he ran his fingers through Jackson's hair and guided his head back. 

“Look at me, baby. Show me your eyes.”

Jackson did. They still glowed yellow. Stiles traced his thumb under one eye, soft and slow.

“Beautiful,” he murmured. “I love you like this. I sure do miss your usual eyes, though. I'd like to see them again.” He ruffled Jackson's hair again. “I know it's hard to change them. But you're my perfect boy. Aren't you?”

A gentle tug to his hair prompted Jackson to whine. His eyes fell closed. He said, “Yes.”

Stiles rewarded him with fingers around his bared throat. Not squeezing, just a warm presence. His thumb rubbed along the patch of scales on the side of his neck. It was already shrinking.

“That's right, baby. My perfect boy. All you have to do is let go. You try so hard, always working, always fighting. But you don't have to try with me, hun. Let me take care of you.”

Jackson shuddered and let Stiles pull him forward, face pressed against Stiles' hip. He kept his hands in his lap, because Stiles hadn't given him permission to touch. The scales had disappeared beneath the collar of his shirt. Stiles pet the newly pink skin and earned another shiver.

On another day, this would be when Stiles would open his fly, guide Jackson to swallow him down, give him something concrete to focus on and achieve. But that wasn't the goal today. For now, he let Jackson hide, murmuring sweet nothings and encouragements.

Eventually—he didn't know how long; time was irrelevant when he had his boy like this—Stiles squeezed Jackson's shoulder. If he wasn't ready to come out, Stiles would've given him more time, but Jackson swayed back easily enough. The tension had fled his face, leaving him looking contented and a little dazed.

When he opened his eyes, they were gray and clear.

Stiles knelt down to press a sweet kiss to his lips. “There's my boy.”

[turmoilcity]

Bellutch

Butch heavily inspired from mth x Bella AU

Title: Class shenanigans

Rating: T for swearing

Bella was sitting on the edge of an empty pipe. Skate park was empty. She rolled the joint in her hand between her fingers. 

It was pretty bold for her to be smoking out in public, but at the moment she didn’t care. The area almost seemed desolate.

She was tempted to call Mitch up and ask him what he was doing but she remembers the band has practice, so she refrained from bothering any of them.

That was probably the worst part about making friends with an entire band. They were busy every other day.

She took a big inhale, thinking to her friends back at home as the air gently breezed by her. 

Not being a hero sucked. She thinks back to the first attack she saw on Townsville and how Jenna expected her, of all people, to sit behind. She hated every instance of that encounter. 

It was stupid that GAME was sending them to another universe, stripping them of their power usage, hero identities and not telling them why. Felt more like a punishment than a mission. 

That and all her real friends were gone. Obviously she had Jenna and Lillian, but that wasn’t enough. With the entirety of the group, they worked like peanut butter and Jelly, but alone like this, they were like water and oil. 

Jenna’s way too bossy. Lillian’s way too ditzy. THis new old lady they were mooching off of was way too rich, nothing was just right for Bella. She felt like she was constantly having to containin herself. 

That new training room would have been so cool to try out. If Jenna hadn’t ruined it.

…Sort of made her hate Jenna little bit. She scoffed and kicked her legs.

Hate Jenna.

That takes her back to a time where she would be an immature brat to her just because. 

Bella takes another drag of her joint, staring at her skateboard at the bottom of the pipe line. She braces her hand against the cement with one hand, and stands up.

Something tingles her.

She swifts around.

“Butch?” She says discovering him mid tip toe.

He first looks taken aback, then defeated, “How the fuck did you know I was sneaking up on you? I wanted to scare you.”

Alarms immediately go off in her head, because Butch is the last person she wants to suspect that she has specail abilities.

“I just… I was getting up anyway, I didn’t know you were there.” she fanned off.

He grunted and put his hands in his pockets as he began walking to join her, “You know if you get caught smoking that shit in public, you could get in a lot of trouble.” he sneers.

She looks at the joint between her lips, “Nobody’s around here, dude,” she mumbles, joint in her mouth.

“You’re right about,” that he says walking to the pipe edge. “But it’s late so ofcourse no one’s out here. Why are you still out?” he smirks back at her as he sits, “Aren’t your parents worried?”

She flicked him off, “I do whatever I want.”

“Ah, so you’re a big girl-”

“Dude,” she scoffs over him.

“I’m just saying. Most teenagers are at home right now. Unless there a lot of trouble.”

Bella joins him, smelling little wafts of whatever scent he’s wearing like the day she hugged him on the motorcycle. “I guess I’m just out here… thinking.”

Butch was quiet. 

She leaned back stretching her abdomen, than lifted the joint from her mouth, “Been a long week.” She exhales as the joint is plucked from her hand. “Hey!”

“What are you gonna do about it?” he remarks taking a hit himself, face callous. 

Bella frowns, “That is not a good way to make a friend.”

“You think I’m your friend?” Butch scoffs in disbelief.

“Duh,” Bella says before hopping into the cement half pipe. She didn’t catch the shocked expression Butch gave her at her response. “I mean I gave you my number didn’t I?”

“Thought that was just for a booty call.” 

She walked to her board, “Thought I told you it wasn’t.”

“Pretty sure you’re the one who brought up booty calling.”

“Yeah, yeah. How long are you going to joke about that?” She began pushing off. “It’s already old.”

“Until it happens.” Butch replied, reclining on the perched edged.

Bella chuckled to herself, “It’ll never happen.”

“Never say never,” Butch clammored aloud in a taunting tone. 

Bella scoffed skating along the length, “What are you even doing out here? It’s late for you too isn’t it?”

“Bored,” Butch mumbles. 

“It’s like 8, why don’t you just go to bed?”

“You think I’m a toddler or something? I barely start drifting off by the time it’s 11.”

Bella chuckles again, “Alright big boy. Sorry to offend you over your bed time.”

“Your damn right your sorry,” Butch begans shuffling to join Bella. He clambers down the half pipe. 

“Watch out,” she warns, drifting around him, hair and clothes pulling the opposite direction of her skating path. She’s picked up significant speed.

He cheers and claps, “Impressive.” She hears him say as she turns the board. She starts skating back the other direction, but he’s in the way.

“Move,” she shouts at him, loud enough to hear. He stands, unbothered. She begins to steer away from him but he walks in this path too. She grunts and tries to swivel around, but he simply takes a step back, exhaling smoke.

She’s getting really closse, and moving too fast to stop immediately. Butch stops her board with his foot and catches her off balance in his arm. 

He kicks the board underneath himself and runs off, skating on it himself.

Bella’s impressed but also mildly annoyed, “Hey!”

“Come and get it,” he taunts her skating away. She chases after him.

--Delete this--

shoulder.

He ruffled her hair with a hand, “Sleep well, cutie?”

“Ha! You just called me cute.” Bella scrunched her nose at him. His eyes are drawn to the action.

“What have you been up to lately?” he asks flatly.

She blinks a bit off guard and then regains normalcy with a grin, “Dude, i’ve just been bus-y.”

“Tch. You don’t say.” He looks to the front of the class as the second bell rings.

“What, you gonna execute me for having a life? God, I didn’t know you were my boyfriend.” She taunted behind him. He feels her pencil poke his arm, “No wonder you called me ‘cute’.” She said in a low voice.

He laughs spinning back to her, “You ain’t my type.”

“Didn’t seem it, five seconds ago,” she sneers back

Butch takes in her dark, playful expression. Her brown eyes electric and smoldering just a bit.

His own eyes got husky as he encouraged this banter leaning into her, “You’ve really got eyes for me, don’t ya?” he teases her.

He can see the bit of brief confusion flicker across her face and revels in it. She puts up an annoyed front, “Dude, you were the one hitting on me.”

“Bet it really gets you kicking, don’t it?” He carried on, voice getting even huskier. He could see her start to fluster. “You can’t keep me out of your mind. I bet you really want me, yeah? You couldn’t stop thinking about me if you tried-”

She groaned loudly, face a miserable light flush, only visible to the super eye. “God you’re so humiliating-”

“But you looooooove it,” he sung, getting close to her ear. He can feel the heat radiating from her face. She suddenly twists to get her back pack.

“Nope.” She mutters gathering her stuff.

He leans back confused, “What?”

She goes to find another seat just as the bell rings. Butchs eyes trails her, slightly jostled.

“It’s a good thing she moved herself before I could,” the teacher noted walking by him giving him the days assignment.

Bella plops at her seat, blowing her bangs out of her face, exposing her tinted cheeks. She finally spares Butch a look,

“I’m gonna kill you” Butch mouths, holding up the paperwork. She flicks him off.

[throne-for-queens]

Sandra, what do you think is mgk/Colson's "golden type" as far as looks? (You said you didn't think Megan or a Bunnie type are "it" for him.)

Do you think he has a type for his public persona as mgk and then being Colson, it's a totally different type of woman he really wants?

I remember an old video (Rover? or something or other) he said he had a Cleveland girl if I'm not mistaken, who was down with his lifestyle (even being with other women together) but she left him and started a family of her own in the end (in the Nessa Hot 97, the 2nd interview he did with Nessa). I assume she looked neither like Megan or Bunnie (side note: it's funny now Bunnie is in the mix but only because she's seemingly so adjacent to him nowadays because of Jelly Roll) or at least not the extreme versions of them.

His type as how he presents himself with the women he's been with publicly is all over the place so I wonder if he truly even has a true type. From a black mother of his daughter to now white Megan is a big difference. Maybe when he sees a woman he just feels that's his type rather than sees it or something corny, cute like that. He's so interesting, his tastes. He's said in a super past interview he's turned down "hot girls" because they weren't fans. So maybe he really bases his attraction off of energy + looks 2nd.

p.s. Thank you! <3 Sandra for having this tumblr! I get to get so many random /weird thoughts off my chest about one of my fav artists :) with like-minded ppl :D

I'm glad you enjoy the page, Tumblr allows me the space to ask and talk about so many random things. I'm happy there are people like you willing to interact.

I think colson does base a lot of his dating preferences off energy and attitude. He's slept with so many different types of women that at first glance one can assume that he has no type. But he does in fact, in his earlier interviews he mentioned liking salama Hayek and Eva Mendes ( I would mention the 3rd, but I'll refrain since it's a pretty controversial interview). So you can see that he leans towards brunettes, he further proves this when he dated adult film stars Remy LaCroix and Rachel Starr ( only two that I know that he dated publicly). Let's also not forget the ex he can't forget Hedi Gores and then he dated her mini me Chantel Jeffries. We know he physically prefers smaller breasts (but obviously he's willing to have exceptions) because he's a butt man, so his golden type to me is a petite brunette with a smaller top and a wider bottom, sort of like a 🍐 or ⌛. I also think prior to becoming immersed in LA culture, he preferred the natural face at least up until 2019. I'm not saying he looks down on fillers (because he's been with people who have them) but his crushes before didn't.

Now as far as what he's looking for, that has definitely changed since his lace up days. I think he's now looking for something serious. Remy had mentioned that the cause of her break up from Kells was due to him not being ready for that, Kelly Kay said the same, and I'm sure there are other previous partners who wanted him to be completely exclusive but had no success.

Now I think he wants to settle down and have that one person, but do I think that means he's done with the open part of a relationship? can't say for sure. I feel like once you've built that habit, it's really hard to break. And he did that for years with Hedi and Rachel.

Just adding here: 2008 Transformers, GQ magazine fits into this type. I'm saying this before anyone points out that she's a brunette. 🫠

[wutlaikalikes]

demotivated artist

a blog

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★

I read on X that there were ‘artists’ who quit drawing because of PewDiePie’s drawing journey. Pointing out that PewDiePie is rich and has a lot of free time is the reason why he became good at drawing within a year. There were videos made about it too on YouTube but I didn’t watch them.

I don’t know PewDiePie’s daily schedule but in his first video he mentioned that he would only spend a few minutes drawing per day. If I remember correctly, he said 10 minutes(?). And honestly, I don’t think he’s that free since he got a child now. But about the rich part, I don’t think I can defend that cause he is lol.

When I first saw PewDiePie diving into drawing as a hobby, I was excited to watch them and see his progress. I was more amazed than jealous. And his problems when drawing are pretty much the same with every artist out there.

Honestly, those people who were saying that they quit drawing because of PewDiePie are probably the same people who just hate PewDiePie all these years. People can change with effort. People can learn from mistakes. I know that the internet is forever but that doesn’t mean you remain the same as you grow up.

But I digressed…

If there is anything that is demotivating me from drawing, is generative AI and the companies using user’s data to feed to their AI.

I like to draw and recently because of VTubers, I started to draw constantly again. With most of my drawings off of X and having opened an account on BSky, I feel like I shouldn’t post my drawings anymore. People have pointed out that BSky’s TOS doesn’t really state anything against AI. Though BSky has posted recently that they are not interested in feeding user’s data to train AI. But that doesn’t mean they won’t in the future or that they can protect users from the rest of the internet since it is a public platform. I actually slowed posting my drawings on BSky just until I got a clear stance from them.

image source: https://bsky.app/profile/bsky.app/post/3layuzbto2c2x

Drawing is an expression and since I really can’t afford to buy official merchandise (for now), making fan arts and sharing my oshi’s content are the only way I can support them. This whole AI situation is pretty much f***ed up!

I get it, not all AI is bad. AI in the medical field looks interesting, not gonna lie. It’s like a digital petri dish that could help identify what potential problems you’ll encounter in the future.

It's just the generative AI that I don’t see a good use of. For companies that wouldn't want to spend money on artists, writers, voice actors, etc., I guess this would be beneficial for them. But who would want to watch or consume soulless content? I mean, even now, there are media out there that are boring just because they don’t have the right directors, effects artists, actors, music, or story. There are even movies that have special effects that are hurriedly done that look laughable.

I was imagining a world where everyone with artistic talent just stopped sharing their abilities. Where drawings, paintings or comics are shared by purchasing a physical copy or just sharing with friends. Where in order to listen to music, you have to go to concerts or buy physical records. Where in order to enjoy stories, you have to buy and read books. Where movies can only be enjoyed by going to theaters to watch actors act on stage. Pretty much how things were done years ago. A simpler time, I imagine.

Innovation is not bad and has obviously made things much better. But to rob people of their work and have their talent belittled feels like a step back. Imagination leads people to produce new ideas to be applied in the real world to make things even better. A future where people rely on AI to look for new innovation, I can only imagine it would only produce the same idea presented in a different way.

I’m sad. I don’t want to stop drawing. However, I should consider refraining from posting my drawings. I don’t know when this will stop. I know Japan made a stance against AI but doesn't have a law or regulation against it. Just recently, voice actors in Japan have voiced their concerns and called for rules to be set in place. And Hirohiko Araki describes AI generated images as a threat to the manga industry.

As far as I know, there is no country trying to stop this. The only effort that I see is Glaze and Nightshade. A program that adds ‘poison’ to your art. (which honestly something i should be looking into further).

With the many problems we have in this world, I think AI is the least of the world’s problems. However, it does add to the problem. AI is stored in data centers and it requires water, rare Earth materials and power to run these, and it also produces electronic wastes.

*sigh*

I have a thought last night and probably the only positive thought I have. I'll draw two more drawings for this year. Then next year, if I can, I'll just do DIY projects related to Holostars and my oshis. Cause I haven't really done any projects or traditional art.

Normally, I talk to myself to motivate or hype myself up, or I write my thoughts to clear my mind. Writing helps me organize my thoughts. But this blog is not helping me at all. In the end, I’m still sad.

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some sources: Voice actors in Japan call for rules on AI-generated content (from NHK World Japan) https://www3.nhk.or.jp/nhkworld/en/news/20241114_01/

Jojo Creator Hirohiko Araki Shocked To Find His Art Perfectly Imitated By AI; Warns Of Its Increasing Threat To Manga Industry (from AnimeHunch) https://animehunch.com/jojo-creator-hirohiko-araki-shocked-to-find-his-art-perfectly-imitated-by-ai-warns-of-its-increasing-threat-to-manga-industry/

Hirohiko Araki on the evil of AI art in today's "world of con artists" https://x.com/jojo_wiki/status/1857903571573919813

AI has an environmental problem. Here’s what the world can do about that. (from UN environment program) https://www.unep.org/news-and-stories/story/ai-has-environmental-problem-heres-what-world-can-do-about