#<- for the people that spell it like that (for some reason)

[origamimissingno]

Long story short op

Design that isn't completely masculine/is in any way girly = Girl in most Pokemon fandoms eye

I got shit once for calling my male Primarina a boy because he looked too girly to not be a girl (despite every playthrough of sm/usum I've down with piplup had them be a little dude)

It all boils down to misogyny even if the person doesn't realize it

Meganium and Venusaur are ultimately the same pokemon design wise, big plant dinosaur with a flower

But because Venusaur is more "Manly" in looks that makes them a Boy No Matter What, because the flower is based off a Corpse Flower

Where as Meganium has a Big Pretty Girly Flower and Soft Lines And Curves, so that means they are a Girly Girl UwU

These are the same people who bullied Game Freak into making Gallade because they could not handle Gardevoir being Male despite originally having a more androgynous design, and why there are plenty of Pokemon lines now that when they have a Girly design are Locked To Only Bring Girls (looking at Tsarrena or however you spell it, and Hatteren)

Because they don't like when a girly design can really be a boy, because that's not right in their eyes

And many of them don't even realize they let that bias paint how they see pokemon

Taruos and Miltank are an early exception because they were legit made for lore purposes to be just male and just female, but it's because ultimately they are close enough to mate with each other and have children, it's just meant to copy real life, the bull for work, and the cow for dairy and meat

These people got weird about Professor Oak asking your gender in the Gen 1 remakes Fire Red and Leaf Green, because how dare Oak imply the Manly Men could be Girls

They assign genders to Pokemon as a whole species instead of the individual pokemon because of shit like "Gardevoir shouldn't be Male and Machokes shouldn't be Female", because they forget both that these characters are fictional, but also that they are animals. They work under their human binary, so much so that some even argue against the pokemon that do not have genders for not having them, because they don't fit the human binary

And when they see a pokemon in the anime do something gendered, they cling to that as a reason why that's a "main personality trait" even though we see another Chikorita who's as obsessed with Baseball as their trainer, but thats not a personality treat because that doesn't fit their view of Chikorita and I hate it

I'd much rather have the universal "main trait" be that Chikorita just really liked to fucking clock things with their head leaf over "crushing on main character UwU"

I'm sorry I feel strongly on this mainly because of the amount of dumbasses who get somehow when the first pokemon I catch of most species that have a gender split at all don't match the gender they assigned every Pokemon of that species

A very normal Meganium.

[insanescriptist]

Flip the Table

Casually eavesdropping on what should be highly secure frequencies, Jason sipped his beer in a sleezy saloon style sports bar somewhere on the Vegas strip, nominally watching college(?) football; he's a hockey fan because baseball's boring as shit to watch and he's never got the appeal about American football. Football to the rest of the world was at least worth watching for the drama. Something had the Justice League in a tizzy and Zatanna -the one who normally covered Vegas when it came to the costumed crazies- was off world; Jason didn't have the details exactly but it sounded like Zatanna was dealing with some magical planar stuff and was not expected back for at least six more days. Assuming all went well.

So like any reasonable person who's going away for a time, she turned on her home security, had the alerts wired over to a friend -in this case Justice League Dark- gave a list of what was needed to be done and when -the pick up my mail and mow my lawn equivalants- went on her trip, trusting that the JLD were watching over her city and it wouldn't be on fire when she got back.

Such glorious hope.

And thus something happened so when Jason pulled into Vegas proper to investigate a desperate -read last hope- lead on a missing person's case, Jason happened to spy one of the lesser members of the JLD losing their shit in the sky. And so in a moment of civic duty, Jason started spying on them.

Magic was not something anyone trained by the Bat really ever got comfortable about, but chances were magic bullshit was going to intervene in his case. Justice League shit spilled over everything, all the time. Ghost cultists tripping Zatanna's necromancy alarms or whatever they were, was not Jason's business. Not unless the presumed cultists -those that had survived- had the person he was looking for.

No, he was looking at a missing person's case and his lead was 1. cold and 2. a longshot and 3. in a city full of tourists and catering staff, where "seen anything unusual lately" could be "there was this trio of tourists arguing how sex with your best friend doesn't count as cheating," or "someone having a meltdown over the delayed shipping of organic blueberries to the hotel," or "Sarah Maria got murdered a couple weeks ago on the job, but I haven't seen any notice about her funeral stuff on her social media, why yes, I do know she's dead, oh, she's dead and I'm an idiot for expecting someone dead to post on their socials their funeral deets."

Point was, he could look and ask all he wanted, beat feet for days, but the chances of this lead panning out were basically so minuscule that Jason could treat this more as a hobby case while on vacation. He still did his due diligence, asked the staff a few questions, called the guests on the same floor during the time period of their stay about how they found their stay, ran into the dead end of shitty business practices -they recorded over their own records every two weeks- and so unless Jason got the ability to do magic and do a "point me!" spell, the case would turn cold. It sucked when it happened but sometimes the evidence wasn't there. Or wasn't noticed or was destroyed before it could be collected. Sometimes people just didn't remember shit until three weeks later, which with some follow up digging gave him the lead to the hotel. Which got him nothing after that.

As Jason Todd didn't gain an innate ability to do magic that he was aware of that actually counted as magic bullshit magic instead of a couple cantrips, all he could do was get a beer and some food in a Vegas style Texas saloon bar. Which not his first choice, but it was full enough no one really paid attention to anyone. Technically a sport's bar but also very much was not. It was also busy enough that Jason ended up getting asked if someone could set with him at his table -which real Jason said hell no to, but cover Jason did agree to-

Oh. Meta. Jason realized quickly. Oh no, he's hot.

His hair is on fire!

How did the server miss that? Most metas don't casually out themselves like that! Too many people willing to target them for whatever power.

That hair was flaming, tied back in a low tail; Jason blinked and the hair flickered color, looked like normal hair -black- and then back to white fire, then black fire, some tv static abomination of color, white hair and then black hair. Another blink and it appeared to be black flames for hair and yeah, Jason closed his eyes. Pointedly ignored the hair thing. If the meta asked, Jason was judging him for the stupid little goatee.

The rest of the meta was built along the same lines as Jason himself, tall, broad and built. Packed with muscle, which was something to make note of; metas usually were more durable and could hit harder, so Jason casually made note to not get hit if a fight broke out.

Which it might, or probably would.

That's just how Jason's luck ran. To shit.

Said meta also ordered food and a beer, didn't even get asked for ID -unfair bias- and judging by the sound, turned in the seat to look at the American football screen that Jason had been ignoring. His hair had at least settled to black flames instead of the glitchy hair.

Of course as this was Vegas, people gambled on outcomes of games too. Which is how Jason learned the meta was rich enough to blow a couple grand -not expensive in the world of supers- but more than what the average person would be comfortable betting.

There were better ways to piss away money than gambling on sports. Like on over priced burgers and onion rings with an order of mozzerella sticks. The burger was good, admittedly Jason's had better and then some party of guys was yelling at the ref on a screen. And yup, that's some altercation with another table but the barman broke it up with a couple of words.

His tablemate muttered something about the ref having made the right call if one of the players wanted to continue a career professionally and Jason used that as social leverage to get a name -Dan, no last name given- and a bit more in-depth explanation on what stakes were going on; he's a hockey guy, not a football guy.

Some time later, Dan had caught him up on the football drama -nothing compared to the hockey drama- and conversation had drifted significantly from sports, lightly touched on family -Dan had siblings he shared little about other than they existed, which fair, they could also be metas and at risk- much like Jason did -he had siblings that existed, no further details- and parents weren't mentioned. Instead a lot of engineering talk, a slide into ethics -Dan's opinion on killing super villains was very much that some people needed Ended- and some small talk about how Dan's high school English teacher cursed in classical book titles.

Soon the easy joy of potential friendship ended when his phone rang; that was the Batman ringtone and Jason felt no guilt hanging up on him. And again. And again.

Then Dick rang and nope. He was not dealing with their shit. Dick would just sweeten up whatever shit B wanted to shovel.

And then Oracle's ringtone rang. Oh, now that was serious. Justice League shit spilling into his life again. No fucking doubt about it.

"Uh-huh, so what's up? Because I gotta say, I am a couple drinks in and the whole bar is waiting for one of the football teams to fumble or foul up their next play so they can throw down."

"Jay-" She started because much like Bruce, she would rather go straight into the mission, and Jason absolutely had wrong-footed her. Because instead of making excuses to leave, Jason had absolutely stayed. So now she had to rephrase things on the fly because who knows who might be listening in. "Hey, it's on the news that the Justice League is showing up in Vegas; something about investigating something magical showing up."

"Uh-huh, that's not a surprise. There was some magic ninny flying in a panic earlier. I decided it wasn't my business."

"I hadn't heard that," -bullshit, she just hadn't double-checked that herself yet- "but what I did hear that some cult might have succeeded in bringing something over."

"Uh-huh. Well, no one's praying to Cthulu yet, there's been no troublemaking beyond the usual human malice and nothing's on fire."

"We were just concer-" And Jason hung up on Oracle.

He'd pay for that later, but petty was satisfying now.

"Sounded important."

"Was bullshit."

"So an entity summoned by a cult that tripped a bunch of magicians into a tizzy-"

Yeah, those sharp ears were not for show. Enhanced hearing check. "That's a bunch of incompetents panicking." Time for his good guess to hit or miss. "You're not going to decide to destroy Vegas, are you?"

"Done it before, doing it again seems pointlessly petty." Statements Jason wasn't going to prod further right now.

"And what if Wisconson University loses?"

"Might flip the table." Dan shrugged.

"More beer?" Jason asked.

"Sure."

[distantdarlings]

EXPOSED // t. nott

RATING: R / 4.4K WORDS

Theodore Nott x AFAB!Gender Neutral Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested - based on this* You were born with giant wings reminiscent of an Angel’s. Though you weren’t technically one, Theodore Nott couldn’t help but compare you to and treat you like one.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! PIV (not super specified though due to GN!Reader), Oral Sex (GN!Reader Receiving), Top!Theo, Bottom!Reader, very slight voyeurism (if you squint), Reader has wings (with sexual feeling), language (lmk if I missed any!)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Haunted - BEYONCÉ

- - -

By the time you arrived back at your dormitory every day, your shoulders were so sore, you were ready to just knock yourself out. The continuation of your shoulders as they spread out past your body and out into the air cramped constantly when you performed that concealment spell you’d been forced to learn the moment you started school.

Even being the minority compared to the whole world, the student body at Hogwarts were not always the most accepting of different people–especially when you had enormous whitened wings that stretched out widely above your head. Spread out completely, they reached nearly ten feet across. They were your greatest inconvenience, but also your greatest love. There was little you took better care of than your wings. They were strong and white like new teeth–not perfectly pearly, but not as dingy as some of the other fliers you’d met.

You could remember when you were younger, when your father—who was also a flier—had taken you to meet some of your distant family near where they lived at the top end of the world.

There, it was freezing all year-round and the majority of the community adorned wings just as tall and strong as yours, if not moreso. You were jealous that you were always expected to hide your wings away from the world—even as a little one—when your father had been able to spread his as far as he wanted to, wherever he wanted to.

It had left a bit of a dent on your self-esteem, always having to hide a large part of yourself to fit in with others. But, as you aged, you’d come to accept it for what it was. Besides, everytime you visited your family on holiday breaks, both you and your father would take long flights early in the morning when the sun had not yet risen above the horizon and had only settled deep within the sky’s cover of clouds.

Flying with your father like that was some of your favorite memories. You were certain it wasn’t as enjoyable for him, simply because he rarely hid his wings. For you, it was as if you were stretching out joints that had been cramped up for years. Still, you were grateful for those little moments.

With a tilt of your head in each direction to relieve any built-up tension, you began to undress. You let your robe slide down your arms and into the floor. Then, you loosened your tie, undid the buttons on your shirt, and pulled your bottoms down your legs, allowing them all to fall away and into the same pile with your robe.

You whispered the reversal of the concealment spell that you had used so many times before, and closed your eyes. The warmth of magic circled your back, spreading heated tendrils in and around your wings. You could feel the feathered things slowly rising to life. You sighed in relief at the sensation, letting every joint within them pop aloud.

With a yawn, you reached your arms over your head and stretched hugely, letting your wings mimic the movements. You groaned, relieved that you were finally able to let them loose.

The only reason you weren’t frightened to let them out in your dormitory was because none of your roommates would be back until later on this evening. Every year, you purposefully planned your schedule accordingly so you’d have a few hours to yourself in the dorm room, specifically so you could have your wings out.

The only other times you were able to have them out besides when you were flying with your father on vacation, was when you were completely alone in the bathrooms or when the curtains were pulled shut around your bed. Other than that, they were tightly and magically adhered against your spine.

You weren’t sure exactly how the spell worked but it didn’t hurt until the sixth or seventh hour of having it applied. At that point, you’d be getting sore. Maybe the spell actually did fold your wings together… Hm, you weren’t sure. According to your father, there were no lasting effects of the spell on your wings or your ability to fly. But, still, it made you a bit nervous to think about.

With a small sigh, you bent over to gather up your crumpled up clothes. You tossed them into the dirty laundry hamper slid up against the end of your bed and prepared yourself to preen your wings. It had been entirely too long since you’d tended to them. You could hardly pride yourself on the care you gave them if you weren’t going to keep up with their cleaning schedule.

You settled yourself on the edge of your bed where the curtains were separated. The cold satin duvet slid against your naked legs. The fabric of your bottoms kept your hips warm as you pulled your preening comb from the small bedside dresser.

You crossed your legs and pulled the length of your left wing as far as it would go, across your thighs. The soft feathers cascaded over your skin as you began to meticulously comb at them, ensuring that every single one was treated.

Oftentimes, you’d sink into a sort of daze as you handled your preening—one filled with straying thoughts and light hums here and there. You’d found that, in the past, you became sort of deaf to the real world as you worked. Your focus was so intense that you didn’t hear little sounds, like that of a quiet door opening behind you.

And this time, your humming was just loud enough, and your combing was just distracting enough that you heard nothing as an intruder pushed the dormitory door open and slipped inside. And you didn’t hear the small gasp he let out as he saw your glorious wings. And you didn’t hear the confusion rattling through his brain as he was certain that this was the room his friend told him to meet her in to pick up his books. And you certainly didn’t hear his light footsteps as he creeped up behind you, so curious as to what he was looking at.

He’d never seen something so beautiful and majestic, except on some of the long extinct, mythical creatures he studied in class.

Though he had some inkling of self control, he couldn’t stop himself from approaching you ever so slowly, fingers outstretched and wanting desperately to touch your wings. They had to be fake, right? Some kind of costume?

Still, he couldn’t resist. It was as if your wings had cast some kind of spell on him, dragging him in so severely. He needed to touch them.

Then his fingers were brushing against the soft curtain of feathers, feeling the way the edge of his skin tingled. You gasped sharply and turned without thinking of your nearly nude body.

You made eye contact with a boy you’d recognized much too quickly. Your wings shot across your body to conceal your naked skin.

“Theo! What are you doing here?” you gasped, trying to back away from him and farther up your bed.

“I was coming to pick up some books…” his words trailed off. He appeared dazed and completely fixated on your wings. You couldn’t help but be frightened at what he might say. This was exactly the horrifying moment you’d been having nightmares about since you were young.

“May I touch them again?” he breathed, finally tearing his eyes away. He looked at you, his lips parting.

“What?” you asked, completely in shock. You were surprised that he wasn’t entirely disturbed by the sight before him. All your life, you’d been taught to hide them from people who wouldn’t understand—which just happened to be nearly everyone. You’d imagined the things that would be said once you were exposed a million times over, but you never imagined they’d be things of wonder and awe.

Still, Theo stared at you with nothing but amazement. His cheeks were dusted with pink flecks and his eyes shone with the light seeping through the windows. Suddenly, you found your wings relaxing a bit.

“Er…yes…I suppose you can,” you said, unsure of your words. Your voice trembled ever so slightly with the breaths quickly filling your lungs than pushing out.

“I-I’m sorry,” he said, seeming to snap out of his daze slightly. “I didn’t mean to pressure you. It’s just…they’re beautiful. I’ve never seen something so angelic.” He chuckled at his use of the last word. You were shocked. Never, had you been compared to your separate winged counterparts. Angels were real, but you weren’t exactly flitting about Heaven. You just had wings. Descended from Angels? Perhaps. But not an Angel.

“You’re not frightened of them?” you squeaked, knees clutched tightly against your chest.

“Frightened?” he laughed breathlessly. “Why would I be? They’re incredible.”

You laughed a bit. You didn’t even know what to say. This was going nothing like how you’d always expected it to, and that was a very good thing. And, how much more perfect could you have hoped it would go, than if Theodore Nott—one of the most gorgeous boys in school—was calling you beautiful amongst it all. You could’ve cried.

Slowly, you extended your right wing out to him, while still keeping your body covered with your left. Mesmerized, you watched as he curled his fingers in and around the feathers. It was a light, easy touch—almost like a tickle. The feathers themselves didn’t really have any sensation, just what was pulled from the follicle when it was tugged on a bit.

If you accidentally pulled one out, it only felt like pulling a hair out of your scalp, except for when you got closer to where they sprouted from your back. They were a bit more sensitive up there, as if you were pulling multiple hairs out at once. Other than that, they didn’t really have much of a feeling, besides when they were sore from being cooped up.

At least, that’s what had been your reality for the entirety of the time you’d been on earth, until Theodore Nott waltzed in and wrapped his long fingers around a handful of feathers and tugged at them.

At the feeling of him grabbing on to them and clenching his knuckles until they turned white, you noticed that an uncomfortably familiar sensation pooled rapidly into your stomach. The edges of your vision dripped with black ink spots and your lips fell open in a gasp.

At your reaction, he let go just as quickly as he’d gripped them and backed away. “I’m sorry! Did I hurt you?”

“N-no,” you panted. “Just let me catch my breath.” The remnants of the pleasure that had built in your stomach melted downwards. Heat circled between your legs, provoking more desire.

“Did it hurt?” he asked once more, head dipped down towards you and genuinely concerned.

“No, it felt… really good, actually,” you gasped.

“What, like a massage or something?” he asked. You said nothing—just glanced up at him, then back at the ground. Unsure if he was getting the memo or not, you dropped your outstretched wing into a more comfortable position and cleared your throat awkwardly.

“Er, maybe it’d be best if you—”

“Wait, I’m sorry. Please don’t make me leave. I’d love to touch you again. I won’t do that again, though.”

Your eyes met his again, confusion swirling in your mind. “Well, I’m not a zoo exhibit. I’d like for you to leave now.”

“Please, that’s not what I meant. I’m just fascinated, that's all.”

“I’m so glad I could be an object of fascination for a moment, but—”

“Hey! Stop that. I like you, okay?”

The two of you stopped moving. No sound echoed throughout the room, almost as if the air itself was holding its breath, just as you were. Your eyes widened as they stared at Theo, searching within his to see if he was joking. Surely, he could not mean that.

“I don’t understand,” you spoke. “You’ve never said more than three words at a time to me, then you see I’m slightly different, and you’re suddenly interested in me. That doesn’t really add up.”

“That’s not it at all,” Theo sighed. “I was coming here to talk to you. To ask you to go to dinner with me. I’ve had a crush on you for a while. It had nothing to do with your wings. I would have just asked you out to dinner if I hadn’t seen them.”

“I thought you were coming here to pick up books?”

“That was just an excuse,” he sighed. “I panicked and didn’t want to ask you on a date when I’d just burst in on you like that.”

“Well, I appreciate that,” you laughed humorlessly. He smiled just a bit.

“I really do think they’re beautiful,” he whispered. “But they are absolutely nothing compared to you.”

That heat from earlier made itself known again, echoing loudly in your abdomen. Your pulse picked up as the compliment settled in your ears. The look he gave you was one of utter adoration—one you couldn’t believe you’d never noticed him giving you before. He couldn’t believe it either, because every time he looked at you, it was a look of nothing less than love.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” you said. “Generally, people aren’t so accepting of them.” You stretched your wing back out and let it drape across the bed in between the two of you. He sat down on the edge and let the tailend of the feathers drape across his knees. The intimacy of the moment made you flush.

“That’s stupid,” he scoffed. “They’re wonderful. The only reason anyone would think otherwise would be because they’re jealous.”

His fingers caressed softly through the feathers, tracing the outlines of them with a gentle touch. As you watched his movements, you could feel the affection blossoming in your chest. You’d never had someone so genuinely interested in you. It seemed that he cared, but not just because of what made you different. He seemed to care about you as well.

He had begun to experiment a bit, weaving his fingers through the feathers, tracing along the bottom edges, scratching his nails along the follicles. Every once and a while, a light chill would run through your skin at the feeling of him touching you and you’d shudder. The two of you would giggle quietly at your reaction before he returned to them.

He slowly worked his way upwards, exploring ways of which he could touch you. His hands moved higher, gently spreading the expanse of your wing upwards and admiring the full span of it.

Before long, he had scooted so close that his hips were brushing yours. Your other wing still covered your body, but the thought of him being so close to your naked skin had made another shudder go through you.

“Did that tickle?” he whispered, looking back to you.

“No,” you whispered. His eyes flickered to your lips, then yours to his. Then, his eyes returned to your wings. His fingers came down to trace the highest edge of them all the way down to where they met between your shoulder blades. His fingers slid between where they sunk into your back. He traced suddenly down the expanse of your spine just above the end of your tailbone. You gasped lightly. Obviously, the sensation on your skin was much stronger than your wings.

“Sorry, was that too much?” he asked.

“No.”

His index finger bent at the knuckle and traced along your back to your side, where the tip of your other wing ended. He watched as chills raised along your skin. You said nothing. Then, his hand flattened against your side. He cupped you warmly, feeling the way his large hand dwarfed your side. His thumb traced the edge of your feathers.

“Can I see the rest of you?” he whispered.

“What?” you gasped, not wanting to get your hopes up with what you’d just heard him say.

“Can I please see the rest of you?” His eyes were locked on your lips until he finished his words. They flicked back up to yours, aquamarine swirling against the light. He refused to look away.

You kept your mouth shut, but slowly pulled your wing away from yourself, exposing the rest of your body to his eyes. He looked down, drinking in the expanse of your entire body. The only bit of coverage you were granted were the bottoms still hung around your hips.

His thumb stretched slowly to trace the underside of your breast. He watched every reaction you granted him—little gasps and parts of your lips. He watched the chills continue to spread across your bare arms and legs. Soon, he followed his previous path on the opposite side of your body with his other hand. He held you comfortably between his strong hands.

“Is this okay?” he asked. And when you nodded, he gently pushed you back onto your pillows. Then he was over you, hovering with one strong arm and tracing your body from shoulder to hip with a curious thumb. He absentmindedly shyed over one nipple with a barely there touch. Your lips parted at the feeling, desperately desiring more.

“Theo, I—”

“Should I stop?” he asked, immediately pulling his hand back to watch your face.

“No!” you nearly shouted. “No, please don’t stop. I was going to ask if you—if I could kiss you.”

He smiled in response to your words. His hand returned to your body and he lowered himself onto his elbow beside your head. His face was much closer to yours now, his hands more confident. His nose suddenly brushed against yours, attempting to entice you a bit.

“Theo, before anything happens between us…,” you started. “Can you promise me that you aren’t just interested because of my wings?”

“Like I said earlier, even if I hadn’t seen them, I would have just asked you out to dinner,” he said, smiling sweetly. You returned his smile, a bit of excitement blooming in your chest at the current situation you rested in. This was everything you’d been dreaming of for months.

Then you were tilting your head up and pressing your lips to his. He responded immediately with a loving and warm kiss that encompassed the entirety of your thoughts. Your fingers curled into his uniform shirt, begging him closer to you. At your need for him, a small groan echoed against your lips as he tore away from you and roughly tore his shirt apart.

You helped him separate the pieces of fabric and slide them down the length of his arms, while he leaned back over you, strong body protecting you from all angles. Your legs split to envelop him between your thighs. With a bit of stray confidence, you wrapped them around his hips, letting them settle comfortably against him.

His lips pressed against your neck, kissing wetly along the length of your jaw. Your fingers curled into his dark hair, revelling in how soft it was. He was everything you’d ever imagined. Merlin, you wanted him so badly.

“Say the words,” he whispered against your skin. “Say the words and I’ll take you right here. Please, baby. Please say yes.”

“Yes, Theo. Please.” Your words came out in a breathless moan.

You were barely able to get the words out before his lips reattached to your neck. He leaned over to one side, completely balancing his weight on his left arm, while his right expertly undid his belt. The clinking of the metal fastener echoed in the empty space, building anticipation in your stomach.

He whispered a spell and the lock on the door in the corner clunked shut. When he turned back to you, he rose onto his knees and slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of your bottoms.

Slowly, he slid them down the length of your legs, maintaining seething eye contact the entire time. Chills spread across your skin and your wings bristled beneath his gaze. When he saw the reaction his touch gave your wingspan, he smirked devilishly. You shuddered.

Once you were exposed to him, he pressed gentle kisses to the insides of your thighs, rising higher and higher until he was face-to-face with your core. The room held its breath again as you braced yourself against the pillow, anticipating his touch.

Your wings were laid comfortably beside you, just as they were when you slept. But the moment his lips made contact with you, they were soaring off the bed and spreading out to their full expanse.

He hummed against you, vibrations traveling from your core up through your stomach. You gasped aloud at the sensation, grasping at the blankets around you.

With a bolt of confidence, you reached down and trapped his curls into your hands, fingernails lightly scratching against his scalp. He hummed again at the feeling.

He marveled at your wings spread out so gracefully, watching them closely with each ministration of his tongue. You watched as he stared up at you—nothing but adoration swam in his eyes.

He couldn’t believe what the sight of your body was doing to him. He so obviously understood why Angels were revered as Heavenly creatures now. If he had seen you with no further context, he too would have immediately bowed to worship.

When he strung you along far enough that your hips were beginning to rise off the bed, he stopped and pulled himself away from you. He returned to his previous position of hovering over you and placed his lips to yours.

The flavor of yourself was slathered across his mouth and spread to yours. His tongue traced along yours, glazing your tastebuds with his own.

With his lips pressed against yours, he slid his unfastened belt and pants down his legs, revealing toned muscles layered with golden skin. He wore dark briefs that framed him deliciously well.

He leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before lining himself up with your entrance. Though he’d granted no adjustment with his fingers beforehand, you weren't going to deny the stretch he provided, no matter how much it stung.

He pressed into you, allowing you to feel every inch of the expansion of your entrance. Fire blossomed below your waist as your fingers dug into his shoulders.

At his realization of how tight you were, he reached beneath the two of you and began to gently massage your clit, coaxing you more and more open.

With the combination of feeling running through your body, your mouth fell open and your eyes fluttered shut. Without a doubt, he was the biggest you’d ever experienced.

Once he was fully settled within you, he gave you a few seconds to breathe. You pressed your lips lovingly to his bare shoulder, reveling in the warmth of his skin.

His chest was pressed to yours and your thighs wrapped around his waist so tightly, you were unsure if you could ever part from him.

Once he began to move, though, you knew you’d never let him go. He built up a gentle pace, working you wider and wider. Once you were fully open to him, his length hit every spot within you no others were able to hit.

Your breath was coming out of you in deep, whining exhales as he pounded his hips into yours. His lips pressed gentle kisses along your jawline with every thrust.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. “Every part of you.” You moaned aloud at his words. Somehow, he knew exactly what you needed to hear to become more and more confident.

You’d never felt so loved in your life.

Skillfully, he built up every single feeling in your body until it coiled tightly within your stomach. You breathlessly said his name, warning of your impending finish.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” he moaned against your throat. He reached upward and shoved his fingers through your feathers, parting them higher and higher, until he had a handful and gripped at them as hard as he could.

Your finish came crashing down around you. Your body rose off of the bed to meet with his and every thrust he worked you through. White flashes seared across your vision, branding the skyline with his face.

At the clenching of your own body, his finish was forced along farther and farther until he released within you. He came with a high-pitched moan into your shoulder. Your fingers remained squeezed into his shoulders until he weakened and laid down on top of you.

The two of you laughed breathlessly at the remaining aftershocks that coursed through your body. His fingers traced lovingly up the length of your exposed arm and swirled throughout your feathers.

“I don’t think anyone has ever focused so much on me,” you whispered.

“Have you ever shown them to anyone else?” he asked.

“No, just my family.”

“Well, I’m grateful you’re letting me see them. I’m not sure how I went so long without seeing your beautiful body. I shouldn’t have waited to come talk to you.”

You smiled sweetly and brushed a stray piece of hair away from his forehead to expose his bright eyes. Despite the amount of time you both waited to talk to each other, you were grateful you had taken the time to do it now. Theo was the only person thus far that had seen you instead of only your wings, and you were so thankful for that.

Then for the rest of the afternoon, you dozed with him, feeling his hands caressing your skin rather than your wings.

- - -

Tag List: @lilymurphy03 , @mypolicemanharryyy , @angelfrombeneth , @clairesjointshurt , @bunbunbl0gs , @acornacreacure , @niktwazny303 , @thestarlithideout, @sarahskakskskskajakwwnwjw , @yhiiil , @xxrougefangxx , @thatblackthorn , @robinyx , @starsval , @jolly4holly , @blvebanisters , @chgrch , @ilovehotmenandwoman , @smutnyrobocikwrakiecie , @synicaljah , @abaker74

[fumiscripts]

✦ I'M NOT YOURS

✦ one shot ,, yoichi isagi x f!reader.

✦ content:: you— a corporate worker— suffer being head over heels for isagi yoichi— a pro soccer player.

for @shrii-kk, angst/hurt/no comfort, 603 words

additional: reader FUMBLES big time, author's first time writing angst w no happy ending, author does NOT have experience in romance, no beta we die like my motivation

You didn't know how. 

You just fell in love.

Isagi Yoichi is a very likeable person. So how could you not fall for him? He's kind, friendly, everything sweet. You witnessed it firsthand, knowing him since all the way back when both of you were children. You've been in each other's lives longer than you haven't, it's a type of friendship a lot of people want.

But that friendship is killing you. Being just friends is killing you.

You try and fail to get rid of these consuming feelings, knowing you can't have him. It'd be selfish of you, weighing him down when he's set on achieving his dreams. Would he, a professional soccer player, spare his time for a relationship with a forgettable nobody like you? He could do so much better.

How selfish of you, wishing he'd be yours.

You distanced yourself— to not fall harder than you already have— you know you can't have him. First, you stopped contacting him as often, and then you tried not to cling to him, tried not to hang onto his every word like it was your lifeline. It was difficult to let go, especially when he was your reason to keep going, your reason to live. But you had to do it. You can't keep being a burden. The weight of a relationship could hold him back.

Hours turned to days of no contact, to the point that you found your last conversation to be weeks ago. You could tell he was concerned. Each digital letter spelled it out. Alas, you brushed it off, saying you were busy. With his hectic schedule and you purposefully avoiding him, that connection that was tightly bound started to drift apart.

You ignored the heavy mix of feelings consuming you like wildfire. You needed to let him go.

The quest to distance yourself was successful.

It's been months, and you've convinced yourself that you got over him. You haven't interacted in a long while, so you shouldn't feel anything towards him, right?

So then why did your chest tighten at seeing those dark locks once again?

Isagi looked as surprised as you. After seasons of no contact, he was finally able to see you again— in an airport, walking across each other— the both of you were about to board on your flights to somewhere, a different location from the other. He called your name, it left nostalgic taste on his tongue.

You stared in silence. All the things you wanted to say, and all the things you shouldn't were stuck in your throat. So you settled for a simple nod of acknowledgement, forcing out a casual reply, one that held no trace of all the brewing emotions threatening to overflow within you. “How are you?” you asked, attempting to prompt a conversation for who knows what. Maybe you were desperate for some semblance of interaction, you hated that you missed him. You weren't supposed to.

He looks away, eyes flickering to somewhere else. “Haha, I'm doing fine. I got tournaments to win, games to play, planes to catch…” Isagi trails off, awkwardly fiddling with his hand. There, you spotted a glimpse of it— a golden jewelry adorning his ring finger— it caught the artificial lights of the bulbs above, and your gaze lingered onto it for a second longer than you'd like, the image burning into your mind.

It appears that the articles of him dating some big-shot star weren't just rumors. Hell, they were even engaged.

He's slipped through your fingers, and you let him go.

You weren't his. He wasn't yours.

(a/n):: mb for this writing slop ruejwhiw

taglist (ask to be added):: @tired-xyra-urstruly @fishii-writes @rini-rushed @rinitoshiplzdateme

@luzmilun @motchilyn

© fumiscripts 2024. don't steal, repost, translate or modify my works without my permission.

[bonnibellexox]

Oh my god totally. I think that beginners should write fanfiction for a million different reasons that will absolutely help them in a way independent writing never would.

Its anonamous

If you spell check, you absolutely aren’t the worst writer on the platform

You get direct feedback

You’re forced to write without overthinking too much

You learn how to plot and develop the story without needing to craft everything from scratch

You learn what people like (smut, the answer is smut.)

You learnt to take criticism and filter out people who are just wrong/petty

You can improve your grammar and spelling before you have to actually write a book

You realise how little people actually care about some tiny issues you fixated over

You quickly realise that you cant cater to everyone. Half the comments with adore the chapter and a few guys will hate it because they forgot important details.

I wish older people could open their minds to this because I’m sure it would help them too.

A word of advice, write fanfiction. Surprisingly, they do help. You can practice outlining with them, editing, and even exploring themes or stories that you can't with your current project or want to implement in your book but don't know how.

[finnlongman]

Do you have to get a master’s degree or a PhD to publish research? Or work at a university? I don’t currently plan to go into academia but I really enjoy doing research, is it possible to do that as a hobby/side job? (Specifically asking in relation to literature, obviously research in things like the natural sciences requires the extra training and lab access by default)

An important note to start with: basically nobody is getting paid for academic publishing. Especially not for articles. They write them for free, they're peer-reviewed for free, they're edited for free. The only people making money are usually the big corporate owners of journals, if it is a big corporate journal and not one of the small independent ones. It's all a huge scam, obviously, but the idea is that people who have an academic job will be publishing the research produced in the course of that job, and thus they are already being paid for doing the research. In an age of precarious employment, it doesn't really work like that, but that's the idea.

That means you can't really do it as a side job, because there isn't any money in it. Doing it as a hobby, on the other hand, is theoretically possible, although I'd have some major caveats to offer:

On the publishing side, I can only speak for my particular field of medieval Celtic Studies, which is weird and old-fashioned and works on arcane and unknowable systems that deeply confuse anyone in a field advanced enough to have heard of "digital submissions" and "online journals". One of our major journals is literally run by one guy who requires you to do all the page proofs by hand and post them back to him and you can buy the (physical-only) journal for £5 per volume. This is not typical for academia these days, so all of my answers are going to be shaped by that.

On the publishing side, you definitely don't have to have a PhD or an academic job to publish an article, which I know because I have published several articles and am only now doing a PhD, so by definition I did that without a PhD or an academic job. This is unusual, for the record; I know very few people who've published before doing a PhD, but that's partly because a lot of my friends went straight through from undergrad to postgrad with no time out, and thus wouldn't have had time to be publishing in between, whereas I took a more leisurely approach.

However, two of these articles were significantly based on my MA work, and one of them -- the only one so far published in an actual journal rather than a conference proceedings -- would have been completely impossible without skills and knowledge gained during my MA. That isn't to say there is no way to gain those skills without doing postgraduate study. But it does mean that there are specific skills required that require training and experience, whether you get that in a university context or find a way to learn it outside of that. (For example, palaeographical or linguistic training, or a firm grounding in theoretical approaches, specific methodologies, etc.)

The purpose of doing an MA or a PhD a lot of the time is to pursue research and gain those skills. If you really enjoy doing research to the point where you would want to publish it (note above: zero financial reward for doing so), I would question why you don't want to pursue higher education. There are lots of reasons not to, for sure, so this isn't me saying the only valid research comes out of that environment or that it's the only path to academic fulfillment. Again: I published articles before I started my PhD. One of my articles is even based on undergraduate work, though substantially revised and redeveloped.

But... that is a point. It was substantially revised and redeveloped. Because for the most part, work produced without the higher-level study and skills (whether gained formally or informally) is not going to be of the same calibre as work produced with them, which seems kind of obvious when you spell it out. There is more to literary research than just close-reading a text and having a lot of thoughts about it, because if there wasn't, nobody would need to do postgrad study about it.

Literature may have different, less obvious skills required than natural sciences, but that doesn't mean it has none. It does mean they may be easier to acquire outside of formal academic courses, but that doesn't mean they don't need acquiring, however you do it.

There are also practical barriers to publishing as an independent scholar. Sometimes these are financial barriers, where not having institutional support will mean you can't publish open-access because you don't have the funding to support it. Sometimes they're things like library access -- when my article in Cambrian Medieval Celtic Studies came out in 2022, I was not currently in academia, nor was I living within easy reach of an academic library, which made it incredibly hard to check references or follow up on suggestions from peer reviewers. The editor of the journal was kind enough to send me scans of articles that had been recommended by reviewers, but not all editors would do that, and so without access to past scholarship, it would be very hard to write something academically solid.

Again, there are other ways to gain that access. I have spent a fair bit of my adult life working in universities in a non-academic capacity, which entitled me to use their libraries even though I wasn't a student or officially "in academia". Many fields have a larger proportion of their scholarship digitally available, which can make it easier to access without physically going to a library. Etc. But it is a barrier, and the financial hurdles are less easily overcome. (Fortunately, very little in my field is pay-to-publish, but Open Access costs can be troublesome!)

I guess what I'm trying to say is that all of my currently-available articles were published before I started my PhD, and I was not "in academia" at the time that I wrote them, but all but one of them was based on work I had done as a student, and they relied heavily on skills and knowledge I developed as an MA student. I am now as a PhD student seeing elements I could have done better, having built on those skills and that knowledge further. Subsequent work was submitted while working for a university in a non-academic capacity, because this gave me access to their libraries. (Which really shows you how long I've been procrastinating on finishing the edits for this article, because I've been a PhD student for over a year now... I originally submitted it in January last year, whoops.) Again, I have ended up subsequently revising this as I improve as a scholar.

So, technically I have done research as a "hobby" alongside a non-academic day job. Technically it is possible. It is hard, but you can do it, if you really want to. But I think I would have struggled to produce anything of a sufficient standard for publication if not for my MA and the skills I learned during it, and there is zero financial reward for academic publishing, so it's definitely not a viable "side job".

Having said all that: If you want to keep researching things alongside your other work, there is absolutely no reason not to do that. Formal academic publishing isn't the only way of doing research, you know? It's probably not even the best way, even if it's the current institutional standard for sharing that research with other people. But you can just... learn things, and enjoy them, and post about them on your blog, and so on. Lots of people do this. Sometimes the most useful website collecting resources or variants of a text or commentaries or whatever is run by a complete randomer with a job in a totally unrelated field who is just super into this in their free time.

And I will also note: my MA and PhD thesis proposals both came out of research that I was doing independently alongside my day job when I realised that I needed more support and skills to do it properly, so I would benefit from doing it as part of a formal programme. I did not originally plan to do postgrad study. By the time I finished undergrad I was fairly sure I was done with academia forever, because I'd mostly been miserable at uni. But it hit a point where I kept chasing up details by myself and going "damn, I wish I knew how to read these manuscripts", or "if only my Old Irish skills were better", or "I wish I could access this obscure text that's only found in special collections of that university library", and that's the point at which I decided to do an MA. So sometimes it happens like that too.

(I have been adamant all along that I wasn't aiming to stay in academia as a career. Given that my previous claims that I was not going to do a PhD and then, before that, that I was not going to do a Masters, turned out to be categorically false, well... I'm not necessarily right about that. I would certainly love to keep doing research, but the short-term contracts and precarious employment of early career academia don't appeal to me, and there's absolutely no way I want to start moving cities/countries every year or two again when I've just managed to get semi-consistent healthcare after moving back to the UK and having to start on all the waiting lists from scratch. I am too chronically ill for that kind of lifestyle and, I suspect, for the demands of academia in general. We will see how long I can stretch out "getting people to pay me to research things" without those aspects, but it may be that I end up as an independent researcher alongside my other jobs again. At least now I live in Cambridge, and can access the University Library as an alumnus wherever I end up working... that's something!)

I published 'early' both because I felt I had something to say and if I didn't say it, nobody would say it (nobody else cares about Láeg), and also because I didn't think I was sticking around in academia, so if I didn't say it then, I would never say it. I was definitely right about the first part, but if I end up sticking around, I'll disprove the second part and I'll probably start regretting publishing at such an early stage as I continue to disprove my own points with further research. I do think that's normal no matter when you start, lol, but there's a degree of "and why do I expect any more senior academics to listen to what an MA student had to say, anyway" at times. (Because I don't believe in hierarchies and I'm convinced I had something meaningful to offer, that's why, but hey.) The only tangible benefit to having published that research for me was being able to point at it when applying for PhD funding and say "look, I'm already published and everything!". The main benefit to other people wasn't much beyond what it would have been if I just... put that research on my blog for them to read anyway.

Where am I going with this? I don't know. I apologise, this is rambly as hell and I'm going in circles, I'm not very awake. Maybe I'll just stop there. I could start talking about popular history books that you'll find in bookshops and how most of them are written by people without postgraduate degrees, but I don't really know that much about those, and I feel this would be getting us off-topic.

tl;dr you technically don't need postgraduate qualifications to publish academically, but you do generally need postgraduate-level skills to produce work that's good enough, however you acquire them; there are a fair number of practical barriers to publishing without institutional support; and there's no money in any of it anyway

[failing-life2]

Used picrew to make a twst oc!! (I can't draw for shit)

Meet Verril Sohan!

I've been wanting to make an oc that's in one of the dorms for a while, but I didn't know how they would fit in. But I got the idea of making a character that's based on the magic mirror from Snow White.

Basic info:

Name: Verril Sohan

Age: 17

Birthday: December 3rd

Dorm: Pomefiore

Height: 170cm (5'6)

Origin: Scalding Sands

Best subject: Magic analysis

Favourite food: Cereal

Personality:

He's described as good-looking and charming physically, but that's quickly eradicated when you start talking to him. Verril sees no use in telling lies, no matter how small. He says, "A white lie can't be that insignificant if finding out about it still disappoints you." A lot of students at NRC dislike him for that reason because they think he's unnecessarily rude when he himself believes the opposite. Although he hates lies, he hates "brutal honesty" more. He doesn't like it when people use the excuse of telling the truth to justify rude comments.

One of the hardest parts when it came to writing this character was making his signature spell. I wanted it to be the ability to make people tell the truth, but Jade already has that. I was genuinely struggling so much, and my friend and I brainstormed for a while before we came up with the idea of shape-shifting.

Basically how his spell "Your Reality Is Now Mirrored" works is he can shift into any living being, animal or human, under the strict condition that the creature he wants to shape-shift into has to have lied to him once in his life.

I'm still figuring out some things about him like his friends, how he fits into the main story, etc... I honestly love making ocs, and this is the first time I've shared one on the Internet. Please share your thoughts on a few aspects of the character and tell me what you think of him!!

[agaypanic]

Benny Weir x witch(earth priestess) reader whose discreetly been helping the crew who thinks shes human and unaware; when shes caught using magic its a big “wait you seriously didn’t notice this before?” Moment from reader

Ps love your mbav fics, sad to see some characters are gonna leave your request list soon💜💜💜

Witch Reader With Benny Weir Headcanons

Masterlist

Request Something!

***

You guys probably met through Grandma Weir

Like maybe you’re a granddaughter of one of her friends, and they needed help with something

Lemme shamelessly promo a fic of mine with a similar plot real quick

But anywayssss

The rest of your new friends don’t know that you’re a witch 

“So, how did you and Benny meet?” Sarah asked you as you settled into your chairs. Benny’s friends insisted on him inviting you to hang out with them at a pizza shop in town so they could get to know you. Although they loved Benny, they found it a little hard to believe that he had a girlfriend who lived in a neighboring town and went to another school. “He says you go to another school and all.”

“Yeah, I don’t see how he had the time to meet you when he’s always busy doing…” Erica trailed off, looking at Benny while wondering how to phrase the rest of her sentence. “Geek stuff.”

You chuckled at Benny’s annoyed expression, patting his shoulder before answering Sarah’s question. “We met through our grandmas, actually. Benny’s grandma invited mine over to catch up and do some…” Although you knew about the group’s supernatural identities, you weren’t sure if Benny had disclosed yours to them. Plus, you didn’t feel like openly talking about witchcraft in a pizza shop filled with likely normal people. “Girl stuff. And my grandma brought me along to meet Benny.”

“Yup. And I swept her right off her feet.” Your boyfriend smirked, slyly putting an arm around your shoulder. You snorted.

“Yeah, he did. Wasn’t looking where he was going, so he ran right into me and knocked me over.”

You quickly become part of the friend group

Traveling the short distance to Whitechapel to hang out quickly becomes part of your daily routine

You can tell they’re still a bit cautious around you

They don’t know you know about vampires, wizards, and all that spooky stuff

But you never find a reason to bring up the fact that you know or that you’re a witch, so you decide to just play along

Although they tried their best, your friends weren’t the best at being convincing or subtle. It was another regular night at the Morgan house. Everyone comes over to hang out and “babysit” Jane, and something weird or demonic happens, but it all gets resolved by the time Ethan’s parents come home from whatever obscure activity they were partaking in that night.

But this time, you were at the house too. And everyone, minus Benny, of course, didn’t know that you were aware of the supernatural. So they needed to get you away from all the zombified animals surrounding the house, caused by an incorrectly incanted spell by your boyfriend. Of course.

Benny and Ethan had ushered you up the stairs to Jane’s room, talking about how you should keep her company while they took care of an animal problem in the backyard. You tried to insist on helping, but Ethan was adamant that you stayed upstairs. Both you and Benny didn’t feel like explaining that you’d be fine when everyone else was so tense, so you quickly ended up agreeing.

Ethan knocked on Jane’s door before opening it without waiting for an answer and pushing you into the room. “Jane, we have to take care of something, so Y/n is gonna play with you. Don’t look out the window.”

When the boys left, you and Jane immediately looked out her window. Directly below you was a pack of various animals, growling and clawing at the house’s back door.

“Do you think this is Benny’s fault?” Jane asked nonchalantly. 

You looked at her in slight shock. “You know? About…”

The little girl nodded. “He’s a wizard, Ethan has visions, and Sarah, Erica, and Rory are vampires. No big deal.” You let out a little laugh of disbelief at her calmness. She must have known this for a long time. “Wanna play a game?”

“Sure. But first…” You looked back out the window, quickly muttering a spell that would tire the zombie animals, hoping it would make some retreat back to where they came from. “Might as well help them out a little.”

“You’re a witch?” Jane asked, pulling out Candyland. You nodded, sitting on the floor and helping her set up the game. “Cool.”

“It’ll be our little secret.” You say, holding up your pinky finger. She locked it with her own and nodded.

But eventually, secrets have to come out

You were at Benny’s house helping him with some work, both for school and for magic

The rest of your friends were coming over later

But you lost track of time, and they came in mid-spell

“Hey, kids.” Grandma Weir smiled at the bunch of teens standing at her front door. “Benny and Y/n are upstairs in his room doing some homework. Feel free to go on up.”

They all thanked her as they walked into the house, heading up the stairs to Benny’s room. Before they got to the door, Rory stopped them all.

“Wait.” He said quietly. “What if they’re making out in there or something?”

“Gross.” Erica grimaced at the thought.

Ethan rolled his eyes. “Who cares? Let’s just go in.”

“Fine,” Rory responded, putting his hand on the doorknob. “But if I get traumatized, it’s your fault.”

“Fine by me, just open the door.”

With vampire speed, Rory was in Benny’s room in the blink of an eye. But instead of looking horrified or amused from catching you and Benny in some kind of act, he looked beyond confused. 

“Oh, hey, Rory.”

“What the hell is she doing?!”

Everyone else rushed in, wondering what Rory could have possibly been looking at. The sight was definitely shocking, but not for the reason they assumed.

You and Benny stared at the group, not expecting all of them to barge in and look at you with such suspicion. You soon noticed that they were focused on a book that you were levitating as a demonstration for Benny. “What?”

Ethan pointed at the book. “What are you doing?”

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you flick your wrist and send the book flying over to Benny, who reacts just fast enough to catch the object with his hand instead of his face. “Basic levitation spell.”

“Okay… Why are you doing that?”

“I think the better question is,” Sarah corrected, raising a brow in curiosity, “How are you doing that?”

You sat on the edge of Benny’s bed with a shrug. “I’m a witch.”

It took a second for the group to process that information. Once they did, they started to blurt out all sorts of questions. The main one being, why didn’t you tell them any sooner?

“Didn’t think I had to.” You answered honestly. “Have you guys really thought I’ve been a complete mortal this whole time? I do magic around you all the time.”

“You have?” Sarah questioned. “Like when?”

“Conjuring plates of food out of nowhere when I’m hungry, using speed spells to get to classes on time, busting open lockers or doors for jerks to run into before they can mess with you. I think the biggest thing I’ve done was send some of those zombie animals back to their graves that one night.”

“That was you?” Ethan asked, both impressed and shocked. “I thought Benny was just getting better at his magic.”

Erica snorted. “Yeah, like that’ll ever happen.”

***

Benny Weir Taglist: @batmandallyboy @june-julie

[mirrology]

THINKING... ❛ ❁. ━━ of being a unsettling ghost child.

❛ ⟡. dungeon meshi, thistle & gender neutral reader. platonic. wc: 515

❛ ⟡ ━━ I'M BACK!!1!!1 ,, dungeon meshi spoilers , mentioned golden kingdom ,, reader was apart of the golden kingdom's royal family , as unsettling reader may be, they're still a child. little bit of angst. we need more platonic dun meshi fics (⌣̀ _ ⌣́)

❝ Sometimes I see her on the sidewalk, biking on the wet chalk, spelling out their names, and I feel insane. 'Cause I know it's just a game that I'm playing with my brain. I don't see her, but I see her and I know it isn't real, but I fake it anyway. ❞ 𓂅 dead girls, penelope scott.

✃ - - - - -

Thinking of being a ghost child that haunts the dungeon. You have the face of an angel, plump cheeks and a sweet giggle. Yet those empty eyes and creepy smile say otherwise. You don't hurt the people coming down from above, you just... observe. Watching them with a wide smile, standing still in those awfully bright white clothes. Most of the adventurers quickly depart from the place they saw you at, spooked by your unsettling presence.

You find amusement in the frightened expression that crosses their faces, you don’t speak. Never move, at least that's what the adventurers think — except to follow them with your eyes, watching their every step as they creep through the winding halls. Occasionally, you might tilt your head, as if curious about the beings who dare come to such a place like the dungeon. 

Contrary to what they think, you are not a vengeful spirit, nor a dangerous entity. You are simply curious.

You do not seek to hurt or torment. Your actions are fueled by a desire to understand the world around you, the strange and varied creatures that reside in the dungeon, and the people who wander its depths. 

Of course you weren’t always like this, you remember a time where you were a “normal” child with a family, living happily in one of the most renowned kingdoms. You remember bright purple eyes, silver hair and soft hands holding your own, hair ruffles by large hands and… the downfall of a kingdom. Those memories are fuzzy but get clearer the deeper you go into the dungeon. 

Once, you ran into an elf with the same purple eyes as the person in your memories, his were just… colder and he looked tired. He looked stunned when he saw you, his eyes got misty and he got this sad look on his face. “(name)?” he uttered your name with a trembling voice. You tilted your head in confusion, how did he know your name? He reached over to embrace you, for some reason he didn’t go through you. Warm hands cradled the back of your head as you were held in a hug, pressed into his shoulder. You quickly pieced together that this was someone you used to know. 

Faintly you could hear a “I found you” as tears pricked at the corner of your eyes at the comforting feeling that was entirely him. As much as you wanted to remember his name, you couldn’t recall it. That made your lower lip tremble, seeing him tired, hearing his solemn voice and how tightly he held you didn't make it better. Suddenly you let out a sob as you apologized for not recognizing him nor remembering his name and burying your face into his shoulder.

He let out a surprised noise then reached over to wipe away the small tears that gathered by your eyes, “No need for tears, you’re here now and that's all that matters” he smiled and lightly tousled your hair. “As for my name? It’s Thistle”

You blinked at him and sniffled, “I like it…” you grinned.

[angelsdean]

the way that nick spell in 14x17 makes it canonically SO easy to open a portal to the empty. it drives me insane. dean literally HAD cas's blood. on his jacket. it was all right there. it was set up perfectly. why show us nick opening a portal to the empty and specifically showing that the main ingredient was BLOOD then. not using that. dean was meant to rescue cas!!!!! full circle moment. i'm the one who gripped you tight a raised you from perdition. what's the matter, cas? you don't think you deserve to be saved? i love you, too. of course i love you. SMOOCH. anyways.

[linterteatime]

Some more human au thingys for y'all, rejoice, do a silly little dance idk

[fazgoo-connoiseur-1987]

Everyone talks about the horror of a serial killer murdering kids and ghosts possessing things, but no one ever talks about the real horror: corporate greed

THATS LITERALLY WHAT FNAF IS ABOUT!!! THAT'S WHY WILLIAM FUCKING GETS AWAY WITH IT !!! THATS THE WHOLE POINT OF THE STORY YOU GUYS !!!

[variousqueerthings]

my pretentious trait is that i get richard ii and coriolanus, RIP to the haters but they're literally the two best plays in their respective categories because the leads are That Good in my opinion

[slimey-wallz]

(Updated) About me!

If you have any questions, please ask away!

(Also forgot to add that I'm the creator of the slime AU, Depressed AU and Robo AU!)

I'll add more stuff to this soon 💕

[neosatsuma]

Had a mystifying conversation with a friend and now I'm curious. By "teach to spell," I mean, "Did your school have classes/segments dedicated to learning phonetic combinations, learning spelling 'rules' ('I before E except after C,' 'double consonants make a short vowel sound,' etc) and/or memorizing how to spell words of increasing complexity?"