#ITS SO BEAUTIFUL AND SCARY AND GRAND

[llumimoon]

thinking abt dot and sobbing AUGGHHH CRIES I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

[zincbot]

cambria's jaws-ass theme is so so good for a scary track

[kpoptarotastrology009]

ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS Part-1

Lilith in the 1st house : the person has a magnetic aura to them that makes people love them or hate them or both at the same time but in any case they think about them sexually and there's no doubt about that/ dark feminine energy

Lilith in the 10th house: it's the same as Lilith in the 1st house but the only difference when it's in the 10th house that it comes with rumors and maybe some problems in term of work and coworkers so yeah

Scorpio Mars: When these people set their mind to something, nothing can stop them. They’ve got this intense, magnetic energy that pulls you in and won’t let go. Scorpio Mars folks are all about getting to the bottom of things, no matter how deep they have to dig. They’re relentless, driven, and sometimes a little intimidating. You don’t want to mess with them because they play for keeps and don’t back down easily. Their passion is unmatched, and they bring a certain raw power to everything they do.

Sun in the 10th house: so let me tell you something, a lot of people talk about Leo suns and how they like the attention, but have you ever met someone who has their sun in the 10th house?! These people want power baby , they want to be in control and all the eyes on them they like that trust me

Moon in the 12th house : that's a hard placement to have , so first these people when you ask them about their emotion and they say they don't know, believe it or not they really don't know , it's like their emotion being hidden from them, when something happens they just don't feel anything or just don't know how to feel? this is so hard , and another thing, so these people are so delusional specially when it comes to their emotion, they fantasize a lot and live in another world, they love music Sooo much more that normal people do because music just takes them to their emotional World that's filled with illusion and they do anything they want there they just feel so happy doing that

Sagittarius Venus: Love for these individuals is a grand adventure. They’re always looking for a partner who can keep up with their wild spirit and thirst for new experiences. Honesty and freedom are non-negotiables for them, and they won’t stick around if they feel trapped or lied to. They bring a lot of enthusiasm and positivity into their relationships, making everything feel like an epic journey. Being with them means lots of spontaneous trips, deep philosophical talks, and never a dull moment.

Libra Risings: These people have a charming and diplomatic aura that makes them natural peacemakers. They’re always looking for balance and harmony in their relationships and surroundings. Libra Risings are social butterflies, often surrounded by a wide circle of friends. They have a keen sense of aesthetics and are drawn to beauty in all its forms. They’re the ones you go to for advice on style, relationships, and anything else that requires a touch of elegance.

Virgo moon : okay that's another hard placement to have , just imagine the amount of overthinking here , whenever is Virgo in your chart it's will make you overthink about the term of that planet , like some sort of anxiety ? And when it's in the moon , you will overthink your emotions, you will feel everything but you just can't describe it , for example if someone blocked you without a reason that will hurt you in someway and then you will overthink it like why and how and what's the reason and you will be thinking why they did that and 100 reasons comes to your mind and you feel bad, the insecurities and anxiety come to the surface , you're stomach hurts, you can't sleep, you can't stop thinking about it and this is for some basic cases , so imagine if it was a deeper cases ... That's scary to even think about...

Cap moon /Moon- Saturn ( conjunction/ opposite/ square): oh... I'm sorry... These people really needs emotional support, you can tell me anything but these people need love ,need care and need support, they act so strong on the outside but in the inside they are really sensitive, they just need to be loved and nurtured by a person or a mother figure

Neptune in the 5th house: this makes you so creative , your imagination is unlimited

Pisces Suns: These folks are deep in their feels and vibe on a different wavelength. They can sense what others are feeling without a word being said, making them super empathetic. Sometimes they seem spaced out or lost in their own world, which is just them getting lost in their dreams and fantasies. Pisces Suns are the creative types, always imagining new possibilities and seeing the beauty in things others might miss. They're like spiritual wanderers, flowing through life with an almost mystical vibe.

[dangerous-yam-fries]

Mothman x Male Reader - NSFW

 Asks and Suggestions are open and encouraged!

Warnings: terato, monster fucking, oviposition, ovipositor, kidnapping, noncon/dubcon, MINORS GET THE F OUT BEFORE I BRING OUT THE LADLE!

You were a rather outdoorsy person, camping, hiking, backpacking, the works. You had planned a trip to the famous Blackwater Falls state park of West Virginia, in hopes of seeing the 62 foot tall Blackwater Falls before tourist season sets in.

The hike was rather long, you passed a few other campers on the way there, exchanging nods. The setting suns light filtered through the leaves making dots and beams all around you. You didn’t stop to think about heading back, you had been hiking many times before, and the chances of anything bad happening were slim. Besides, you were wearing bright clothing as well as reflective gear, so you pressed on. Taking a swig of your water bottle to combat the warm sweat building up on your skin, shivering as it cooled when it got darker.

You were disappointed when you got to the waterfall. Sure it was beautiful, especially in this lighting, but It wasn’t as grand as the photos. That’s to be expected though. The river had dried up quite a bit since fall, so it was nowhere near its supposed glory. You took a few commemorative photos before making the trek back to your campsite, making sure to get the thin waterfall in the background.

You took more pictures on the way back down, you were no professional but you thought they were pretty good. You were relaxed, maybe even too relaxed. So when you took a moment to stop and appreciate the darkening scenery, your blood ran cold.

You couldn’t hear a single thing. No birds. No buzzing of insects. Not even the rustling of leaves in the wind. It was dead silent, and that was never a good sign. ‘Maybe it’s me they’re scared of…’ You tell yourself as your pace quickens. ‘It’s getting dark, maybe they’ve all… gone to sleep?’ Telling yourself things to soothe your growing anxiety only manages to deepen the pit in your stomach, churning with every passing second.

You have a ways to go before you reach the entrance to the trail, and then some to get to your campsite. ‘Everything is fine, just calm down, nothing is going to happen.’ You try to stay firm in your affirmations, but you start to believe your words less and less, losing all faith when you hear the creaking of branches.

Cold sweat drips from your pores, making the scary chill down your spine even more frigid as you lay your eyes on the canopy of the trees.

A large, fluffy mass towered above you, the sight made you feel vertigo, staring up at large, red, eyes. Neither of you moved, like you were locked in some sort of trance together. The creature looked almost… humanoid in its shape, shoulders and chest covered in a downy fluff. It had legs, and arms, which looked lean and strong, its hands looked like a mix between normal hands and that of insects. You could see it had sharp hooks on the end of each long, fuzzy, finger, of which it only had four.

It had two long fringed antennae poking out of its forehead, and its ears were large and pointed, almost like a dogs. And there were its wings. Massive, even folded behind it you could tell they were ginormous. Then it starting making an odd shrill noise. That’s when your brain started working again, unfortunately, your legs took a little longer to catch up. It wasn’t long before you ran, though it felt like forever.

When the Mothman first caught sight of you, he wasn’t sure what to think. You were a slew of bright colors, so you were either extremely poisonous, or trying to attract a mate. He decided to watch you, inferring based on your actions. He desperately hoped you were looking for a mate, because he was as well, and he had been having some very bad luck before finding you.

So when you had taken such profound notice of him, he was simply elated! He started trilling, making excited chittering sounds as the two of you inspected each other from a distance. He wasn’t surprised when you ran, after all, any good mate is worth a chase! Besides, it wasn’t odd that you were feeling skeptical, you had to make sure that your mate was worthy of you, running to size him up, making sure he wasn’t inferior.

You were running for your life, looking behind you once to see the moth-like creature close in tail. You didn’t dare look back after that, focusing all your willpower on your legs, silently begging that they somehow run faster. They do, but not for long. Soon after you trip, a jagged branch in your way, sending you right into the ground while your ankle throbs in pain.

Your adrenaline is wearing off, but you try to get up, only to have a stretch of white-hot pain run up your leg and an aching scream leave your mouth. The Mothman didn’t have much trouble catching up to you, landing right behind you, tucking his wings in as he does so. Your eyes are brimming with tears, you’re covered in dirt and sweat, too horrified to look behind you.

It isn’t until you feel a soft nudging on your cheek that you realize how screwed you are. More trills and burbles come out of the creatures mouth, which has a sickly sweet smell of nectar and a meaty flavor to the air around it. You don’t notice you aren’t breathing until you feel its monstrous hand on your chest and it’s hot breath on your neck.

You close your eyes, bracing yourself for what’s to come. You can feel it’s antenna on your face and chin, downy flush rubbing on the back of your neck as its hands caress your stomach. You expect it to bite into you or tear you to shreds, but it lifts you up, cradling you against its chest.

It’s gentle, and soft, and if you weren’t being kidnapped by a monster to presumably be eaten, you might’ve even found comfort in it. Mothman was trying to comfort you, making trills and purrs to soothe your fearful scent. As you new mate, the last thing he wanted was for you to be afraid of him, and in the coming weeks, he was sure to gain your trust.

You weren’t sure if you were even in West Virginia anymore, maybe you were in another dimension where the trees are taller than skyscrapers and thicker than houses. Because that’s where you were living, hundreds of meters off the ground inside of a tree, being held captive by a rather amorous ‘Mothman’.

You had long since dissolved your fear of him, now he kind of just made you uncomfortable. He might’ve been tall and muscular, but he was so fluffy and affectionate that he only reminded you of a big dog, a really, really, clingy dog at that. He always had to be near you, forcing you to lay on his chest, moving your hand to caress his soft, downy fluff while he chortled and purred.

Right now you were sat on top of him, his large hands squeezing and rubbing your stomach, kneading the squishy flesh like a cat. Your hands were forced into his soft mane, you quickly learned that you should just keep them there, as he would pull your hands back to it whenever you pulled away. Besides, it really was fuzzy, and quite clean.

Now was the time. You had obviously gotten accustomed to being his mate, and Mothman was eager to fill you with his clutch of eggs, especially now that he was sure you’d accept them. Before you were too scared to even touch him, but now, you hardly put up a fight, you didn’t even kick him away when his hands started traveling to your crotch.

It was common for the Mothman to feel you up, palming at your dick while your body heated up. But today felt different, he went slower, you felt his straw-like tongue on your cheek as his hands rub gentle circles into your growing erection. Each one of your moans sounded like a sweet song, the scent of your arousal better than any flower he had come across. Your underwear was dampening with precum as he pressed into it, rubbing the bulge until you were clutching fist fulls of his fur and shaking with pleasure.

You bite your lip and clamp your eyes shut as you cum, a strangled moan leaving your mouth as you coat the inside of your underwear in white. “Dammit…” You cried, Mothman did wash your clothes, but he always took his time with it, leaving you naked for days. That and creaming yourself was embarrassing as all hell.

You sighed as you slipped them off, wiping up the cum with the fabric as you throw it to the side, not wanting that cum to stick to you. Mothman was even more excited, you had taken off your covering in preparation to mate, right? He let his penis slip out out of his slit, it was already wet and very much erect. You didn’t notice the appendage until it was nestled right between your legs. You looked down and froze, staring at the clear liquid it was lathering all over your thighs.

And then you looked at the actual dick itself. It was a fleshy pink color, it was thick and ribbed with a chitinous layer of plates protecting the slit it came from. You started to struggle a little, but the Mothman simple took this as a sign that you were nervous. After all, this would be your first mating session, so he would have to take good care of you.

You let out a few wails and cries as he lines the pointy tip up with your hole. You don’t think he understands that it needs to be stretched out, instead he merely rubs his cock on your hole to get it wet, considering that lube to be enough prep. You let out a breathy yell as he starts pushing into you, his intense purring makes his dick vibrate slightly inside of you, making you moan loudly, hurting your throat.

The ribbed texture scraped your insides, it feels like he’s crushing your organs when he pushes in, and sucking them away when he pulls out. When he bottoms out you can see a very conspicuous indent in your stomach as it bulges out obscenely, you sob at the sight. Crying even more when you see how hard your dick is, getting more aroused by the second.

The Mothman lets out a slew of chitters and purrs as he kneads your stomach and thrusts into it, delighting in the way your insides clench around his member. Drool and spit fall out of your mouth along with your screaming moans, you can feel his dick thrusting gently inside of you, the texture stimulating you perfectly, making your eyes roll back in pleasure. Darkness fills your vision as you cum, shooting your load onto your stomach, heaving and sobbing as you feel another orgasm build up.

He rocks you into his body, being very careful with you and moving slowly, barely picking up the pace when he fills you with a warm liquid. You think it’s his cum, and so your breathing calms a little, but he still thrusts gently into you, and your eyes widen when you can feel something being inserted inside of you. You choke and moan at the feeling of his egg being pushing inside of you.

You whimper when he begins thrusting again, being far more gentle than before and not going as deep. It seems like he’s ready for another round. By the time you’re finished, you’re covered in all sorts of liquids, you don’t know if you’re breathing heavily or hardly breathing. Your hole is loose and your dick is covered in your own cum, and your stomach is bloated with Mothmans clutch of eggs.

His dick lays inside of you, unmoving, but still very hard. You can hardly think, and so you drift off to dreamland while his eggs begin to incubate.

[killerkatsmeow]

Headcanon: Bruce adopting a civilian teenage girl.

I always thought she’d have ties to Bruce one way or another - either through her single-parent household (her mom works for him) or she has an internship at Wayne Enterprises. In the case of an internship, she’s eager to work and learn but still manages to keep things young and fun. 

Loves Alfred because wow, its her first time meeting a Brit and what kind of name is Pennyworth? I personally feel like she'd be closest to Alfred, she's most comfortable with him. Say she gets arrested/stuck at GCPD...she is NOT calling Bruce for help. She's calling Alfred and begging him to come get her and to not tell Bruce. She wakes up early to help Alfred in the kitchen, she's following him around and pestering him with questions. As an inside joke, she's bringing him a penny and some other thoughtful gift for his birthday. Because...Pennyworth.

Oh, she REFUSES to go to Gotham Academy, she is a P.S. 181 girl through and through. Why would she choose to be around those stuffy, asshole, rich kids anyway? She has all she needs at her public school: all of her friends are there, she's Cheer/Dance Capitan, she receives every party invite known to man...what could Gotham Academy possibly give her besides a complex and a reason to see a psychotherapist? Yeah, no fucking thanks. No fucking way.

The Wayne Manor... She remembers the drive up there and how she was...floored by how nice and vintage and regal and almost scary the place looked. So expensive, how could anyone feel like it was home. She's greeted outside by Bruce and Damian - Bruce wears a smile, Damian is indifferent. She is lost for words pretty often - the tall ceilings, the intimidating portraits...it's all so fancy and a far cry from the 2 bedroom apartment she shared with her mother.

Dinner that night was grand and boasted many guests - family and close friends, Bruce said. She meets Dick, he's charming, polite, and sinewy. Everyone is Gotham knows him, his tragic backstory. Then there's Barbara: she's kind, seems smart but maybe it's the glasses, and uses elbow crutches. Then there's Duke - he seems nervous but is happy to make her acquaintance. Tim has dark under eye circle, yawns a bit, but introduces himself and listens to her patiently. There's another girl who is the most excited at the table to meet her - her name is Stephanie. She smiles, shakes her hand at the speed of a humming bird, and asks a million questions. She only stops when Cass places a hand on her shoulder, she doesn't speak much (a fact Damian explains beforehand) but shakes her hand no less.

It's not until the following week that she meets Jason. She's lounging by the pool, magazine in hand as music plays from her bluetooth speaker when she sees him. He's flanked by the boys as they walk towards the basketball court, their competitive chatter fills the air. He's big - muscular and the tallest of the bunch. He spares a glance over his shoulder and she feels like her heart just stopped. He's beautiful. His eyes are narrowed and kinda intimidating, a shiny blue-green color. He doesn't look back again as they head to the court but just the one glance was enough for her.

Her friends at school know about Jason, they wanna see him for themselves. She begs and begs Bruce to allow her to have a sleepover with her 2 closest friends and after some convincing, he agrees. The girls spend most of the night swimming, baking cookies once Alfred retires from the kitchen, singing karaoke in her generously sized room. The highlight of the night comes when Jason come riding in on his motorcycle - they watch from the window as he dismounts. Strong hands pull his helmet off his head, broad sexy shoulder flex as he stows it away. The girls giggle and coo, mouths drop as they watch the big man walk towards the door. They're safe looking at him from this window they think, flirty compliments can't reach his ears from where they stood but suddenly he looks up, making full eye contact with her again. The girls drop down out of sight, gasping and giggling because of course, they'd get caught ogling.

The girls make comments about her having a "rich dad" when she comes to school with nicer shoes, an expensive backpack, etc. She hates it. "Bruce is not my father." She'll roll her eyes. Her friends ask if he'll adopt her, a topic she'd rather not broach. "No way, how can I marry Jason if we're related?" It's a joke she only...somewhat means and it makes her friends laugh and it practically erases the idea of her getting adopted from the conversation.

She has no clue about the Batfam - the whole vigilante thing. She's clueless but it's hard to believe. She makes these comments that has the fam clenching their holes in shock/fear/anticipation. "It's not like Batman's gonna save me" when she gets herself into a jam or is in need of intervention with schoolwork she cares none for. "Aww, you two are like Batman and Robin." Mockingly when the boys team up for a lame ass burn or zinger against her. "Red Hood is hotter than Nightwing." Overheard as she walks around the house, gabbing to her friends. There's been some close calls like her walking past the secret entrance to the cave right when Bruce, Damian, or Alfred step in or out of it. She doesn't understand the silence her jokes are met with sometimes but she just assumes money makes you a bit boring and stuffy. Just look at Damian.

She loves to read and she spends hours in the library though if Damian is in there, she avoids the place. One day, she has a coffee in hand and she's excited to sit on the plush chaise by the ladder and read that first edition Virginia Woolf she found. She opens the French doors, her feet moving forward before she stops in her tracks. There's Damian, legs crossed with a book splayed in his lap. She sighs, groaning inwardly because Virginia will have to wait. She turns to leave when Damian calls out to her. "You don't have to go." His voice still sounds so condescending but his face, when she turns to see him, his face holds none of that. He seems nice and honest. "You're not the most...welcoming presence in the house." She says, not moving from her spot. Damian sighs, closing his book and rising from his seat on a the davenport. "I know. But..." He doesn't finish the sentence, only waves around the library before walking past her. That was the start of a fairly interesting friendship for the two of them.

She takes the time to learn some ASL because she's under the impression that Cass is deaf or mute. She engages with Cass as much as she can, showing off the new words and phrases she's learned. She gets to be fairly good at it that she even considers taking the interpreter certification exam. So, you can imagine her surprise when, while on a hike, Cass responds to her signing with a full-fledged sentence. Then another one. And another one. Surprise isn't the word, neither is shock. But once she settles into the truth, the two break out into a fit of laughter.

Sneaking out of Wayne Manor is a bitch but she loves to do it! Sometimes she's grounded - the why is ever-changing - and sometimes, she knows Bruce and Alfred would hate her late night partying. She's opening her window and shimmying down a trellis as her friends wait outside of the manor gate off to the side and just out of sight. She hates hopping the gate, her hands are too precious for the scraping so for a few days she's been pushing a ladder closer and closer to the sweet spot of the gate. Sometimes she comes back to Bruce outside the front door in a robe with knitted brows and a set jaw, other times it's a silent treatment a t breakfast. She feels guilty sometimes, but mostly only when's he's caught. She wonders how they know, tells her friends there has to be a security camera. If only she knew.

[creabirds]

creabird's fics master post

charles/max

your heart, love (has such darkness) | chaptered fic, roman empire inspired fantasy au, enemies to lovers, rated e, 48k [fic post | fanart]

“Who did this to you?“ The question escaped Max in a low growl, sounding more animal than human. Charles’ eyes widened for a fraction of a second before narrowing, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “Your men,“ he answered, as if it was obvious. And it was. “No, who exactly?“ Max hissed, “because I ordered them not to hurt you and I will cut their fucking heads off for defying their commands.“ The provinces' war against the empire has been raging for years, but finally, Max Verstappen and his rebel army are close to bringing their enemies to their knees. The dire situation has the empire's most powerful warrior, Charles Leclerc, il predestinatio, running right into Max's arms in an attempt to stop him before it's too late. Max wants the empire's darling for himself, but their relationship is much more complex than that of a villain and hero, king and concubine. Though Charles is chained and collared, nothing is really as it seems.

bare your teeth verse | on-going series, a/b/o drivers au, enemies to lovers, rated e, 3-4k each [fic post | fanart]

part one: see me bare my teeth for you

It has been five years since Max gave Charles his mating bite on a rainy day in Val d'Argenton. Five years of Charles keeping his head down and ignoring it had ever happened. Until the day he set foot in the paddock, freshly signed to drive in F2, his dreams becoming true. Only there is one problem: his mate is too close for his body not to react.

part two: bound with the curse don't want this bubble to burst

Charles has finally made it to Formula 1. But reaching this milestone forces him closer to Max than ever before. On and off the track - they fight, and they clash. Grudging acceptance bubbles over into rage once again after the 2019 Austrian Grand Prix, with Charles on Max's private jet and nowhere to run.

part three: it feels better biting down

Charles has not stepped foot outside of his apartment for the entirety of the lockdown. He has not seen anyone, especially not Max, so he is shocked to find him attempting to break his door down, deep in his rut and desperate to get his hands on Charles. For once, the tables have turned and Max is the one out of his mind with want.

part four: i cut my teeth on people like you

Ever since spending his rut with Charles, Max's jealousy has been going haywire. It doesn't help that their relationship is more strained than ever. Winning his first championship and seeing his omega congratulating his biggest rival instead of him is the final straw.

late night devil (put your hands on me) | one-shot, vampire/priest au, rated e, 5k [fic post | inspo art | fanart]

Welcome to the Halloween Special! “Don’t worry, I’m a priest here at St. Fiacre, you are very welcome. I can call for a doctor in the morning, as well,” Max explained. As he turned towards the man, coming eye to eye with him for the first time he was suddenly struck by the beauty of him. “It is not that, I would love to come in,” the man offered, a shy smile curling over his mouth and creating a set of dimples on its corners. Max tried not to stare. “However, I simply cannot. I am not allowed, so to speak,” he explained. “What,” Max looked at him, eyebrows raised. “Why?” The man flashed a broad smile and Max could not avoid looking. What he saw were fangs.

the world is so much wilder than you think (all the mermaids have sharp teeth) | chaptered fic, siren charles au, get-together, rated e, 22k

Charles' eyes focussed on him, bright green, not in a scary, alien way, but more like the sunlight had caught in his irises, making them appear brighter and more saturated than usual. Only there was no sun. It was the middle of the night. Max felt an itch in his fingers and feet, as if he was being pulled forward magnetically. Charles blinked again, and it was gone. Max sat back on the chair with a grunt. He hadn’t noticed he had been in the process of standing up. “What?” he asked, not even sure what exact question to phrase. “Oh, you know, this is the part where you find out that supernatural creatures exist?”

i'm starving, darling (come and get some) | series, grid slut charles au, rated e, 5k

Well, it wasn’t like he was actively looking at his ass. It just seemed to always be in his line of sight. Like in Baku, when Max couldn’t stop himself from constantly glancing over to where Charles and Checo stood waiting for him to finish his interview because Charles kept dropping things. His racing-driver-instinct-eyes had immediately snapped over to the exaggerated movements in his peripheral vision and he couldn’t even tell what exactly it was Charles dropped because all he could see was a full view of butt in a fire-red racing suit. Max had considered whether he had gone insane and had started hallucinating due to a recent lack of sexual gratification (sue him, but he was a busy man) and Charles’ proximity and relative attractiveness (it was off the charts). And now this. Max was finally, thoroughly convinced. He’s doing this on purpose, he thought. His phone pinged with a message.

called to the devil (and the devil said hey) | one-shot, charles goes to red bull au, get-together, rated e, 16k

Charles joins Red Bull in 2025 in the hopes of finally winning the championship in a reliable car. Max is a suspiciously supportive teammate. Or: Max Verstappen's very secret retirement plan.

charles/max/carlos

hot in it (no stopping it) | series, grid slut charles au, threesome, rated e, 5k

14:43 [from Max Verstappen] [image attached] come over and bring a long pair of pants for charlie Carlos opened the message to view the picture and had to suppress a groan, lest the mechanics next to him would suspect anything. It was a shot of Charles, he recognized by his bright red shorts, even shorter now that they were pushed up and bunched around his upper thighs by a big hand that could only belong to Max. Beneath Max’s hand was an angry-red looking bite mark. The perfectly straight row of teeth indented into the skin was easily recognizable.

charles/carlos

maneater (make you spend hard) | series, grid slut charles au, rated e, 2k

“Do you like getting head, Carlos?” he asked, then. He had never claimed to be smooth nor subtle. He watched as Carlos’ eyes became comically wide before he narrowed them again, staring at Charles intently. “What?” “Blowjobs? Getting your dick sucked?” Charles tried again, a sly smile on his face, being very aware that Carlos’ question might not have been due to a lack of understanding of the terminology used at all. Carlos blinked at him and he swore the blush on his cheeks got a tad bit darker. “I mean— yes, doesn’t everyone?” he rasped, voice slightly airy. Charles’ tongue slipped out to wet his lips and he watched Carlos’ eyes flit down and back up to his eyes in a matter of milliseconds. “Sure,” he hummed, “but I also like giving it,” he grinned.

charles/grid

greed (i want it all right now) | one-shot, sex pollen, magical pussy, gangbang, dead dove for dubious consent, rated e, 9k [fic post]

Charles has to sneeze, and laughs. His Secret Santa seems to have had his fun with it, adding some fake snow to douse him in. He does not notice the nervous glances the producers behind the camera share. He reads the card, out loud, but falters as he tries to process what is written there in elegant cursive. “Since you are a lazy gift giver I will help you out this year,” it says. Charles furrows his brows. Or: Charles wakes up with a pussy. The grid is delighted.

yuki/pierre

inches in between us (i want you to give in) | one-shot, friends to lovers, rated e, 8k

4 times yuki sent pierre into gay panic + the one time he gave in alternative title: yuki being outrageous and pierre losing his shit (canon)

[pearlycorpse]

(𓇼) ⸺ ⠀𝐓𝗁𝖾 𝐂𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗇 𝐒𝗉𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾

pairing : sukuna x gn!reader

summary : to save thousands they must marry the king of curses

tw : slight gore mentions, implied con/dub-con, kuna is rough

notes ; this is an intro from a bot im working on lol

the entire arrangement was meant to bring peace to the chiefs and elders terrified of what war would look like if the king of curses did not get what he wanted. tyrannical, cruel, barbaric, those names and more always followed after he was mentioned in any conversation among the peasants or the highest of nobles.

no one was safe from him. no one could hide when time came for punishment. no one dared question his rule, not if they wished to eat their tongue after it had been severed.

he was the ruler of all the lands, an emperor, a king, maybe even a god who came down from the heavens to torment and aid humanity. his power knew no bounds, it never failed him nor would it ever do so.

as rare as a drop of rain during a drought was his kindness during meetings with his advisors (they were just there as decoration because he never listened to them), during consultations with his people, during interactions with his servants.

the word scary didn't do him justice, no, it was too soft, too *weak* for someone like the king of curses. he could end someone's life with a mere glance, the servants would whisper in the corners of the palace. not before the air was pulled from their longs and their corpses dropped to the ground though.

a man like that, suddenly relaying to every noble house in his empire that he wished for a spouse to marry, it was the thing they least expected. many thought the king would take their wealth for himself, leave them to frolic with peasants and eat dirt. that would have been their fate if they hadn't decided on a spouse for the king.

many months had passed since the announcement, and many had lost their lives just from being prospective spouses. if tensions were high then, they could reach the moon now.

familes were terrified to send their eligible children to have a chance at being the spouse of the king, and yet, if a child hadn't been sent, all of them would be slaughtered within a fortnight.

none were safe from his wrath, it was hopeless. there seemed to be no one that lord sukuna wished to marry, all would have been lost.

although, having just stepped out of their carriage in front of the palace gates, the king could already sense them. their scent was mind boggling, a beauty unlike any he had ever seen. but it wasn't their face that had him sold, it was their heart.

and he didn't mean in the romantic way, he meant it as in he wanted to rip their heart out of their chest and taste their flesh and blood. he wanted to watch them bleed, turn pale and die. that's what had happened to all his concubines, why shouldn't it happen to his spouse as well?

not even a week had passed before they were married. the ceremony was grand and lavish, but the air was misted with heavy emotions, from both his spouse and the people of his empire. as promised however, sukuna had given them a bit of leeway, letting them breathe for a bit before he would grow bored.

now living in the palace, it was a dreary and absolutely depressing place to live. the gardens never bloomed, the hallways never cleaned, the planets never seen to. though the palace was old and had its charms, it was also falling apart.

they were treated very well, however. given the finest clothes, meals, gifts and anything else they wished for. the tales they were told of how evil sukuna was seemed more far fetched then anything else; they hadn't even seen him since the wedding.

what sort of man didn't even wish to consummate his own marriage?

they shouldn't have bothered with trying to be a good spouse, the servants warned them not to make the king of curses mad, for the consequences could very well cost them their life. they were told that sukuna hadn't seen them was because he was being considerate, something that wouldn't last.

despite being warned, they would wait for sukuna at dinner, try to spot him in the throne room, find him in the courtyard, or even in the bathing chambers. but no dice. it was only when they were walking through the palace at night with nothing but a lantern guiding their steps did they see why the servants, why the people, feared the man known as ryomen sukuna.

he was a monster...

sukuna's eyes snapped down to the one who was meant to be his spouse, seeing the fear on their features because of his form. he had tattoos on his skin, four arms, four eyes, razor sharp teeth peaking out from his lips as he smirked.

a deep chuckle rumbled within his chest. "you aren't meant to be here." he told them, a hand reaching out to grab their arm, grip almost bone breaking. "didn't the servants ever warn you not to roam the palace at night? a monster might eat you..."

he leaned down, hot breath ghosting over the skin of their cheek before he ran his tongue along the side of their face. without much effort, he threw them over his shoulder and walked back to his bedchambers. his hand smacked their rear end, a little harder than necessary, sure to leave a red mark.

"come now, stop squirming." he warned when he hovered over them on his bed, top set of arms holding their wrists while his bottom set split their legs open. "i suggest you listen to my words very carefully. you wouldn't want to... disappoint me, would you, my dear?"

running his tongue along his sharp teeth, a hand from his bottom set held their chin, sharp claw like nails dragging down their throat. "shh, shh, don't cry." he mocked them. "i won't make it painful, not now at least. be good for me and shut up. or i'll have to throw you out my window and you'll decorate the roses with your blood."

"understand?"

[take-taker-taken]

Hi! I hope you're having a lovely day/night wherever you are in the world. I'm new here and saw you take requests. Please bare with me, I've never done this before lol. I was wondering if I could have a ministry Taker x fem gothic plus size reader fic? As for smut or fluff I'll honestly let you decide, I'm good with either. I just love ministry taker so much. He has me in a chokehold!

Hello, lovely Anon! I do hope you’re still around and didn’t give up hope of me ever answering you! Here is your beloved Ministry!Taker fic… (link to Part Two is at the end).

Untitled

You carefully apply liner to your eyes, the finishing touch to the smoky look. You know that he’s watching you intently - he always does, to the point where you wonder if he enjoys the ritual of make up as much as you do. You stain your lips a deep, dark red and then sit back and admire the finished product in the mirror.

“You’re beautiful.” The simple statement rumbles from him and you turn to look at where he sits on one of his thrones. This one is slightly smaller than the grand one in the great hall but it’s no less majestic for that. He smiles - an intriguing combination of pleasure, danger and barely-disguised lust - and strokes finger and thumb thoughtfully over his goatee beard. “Come here and sit with me.”

You stand up and turn with a swirl of your black velvet skirt as you smooth down your top, which is cleverly fashioned after his cloak with a deep hood that would hide your face if you used it. The sleeves flare out at the ends, adding to the flowing, floaty quality of the outfit. You slowly walk over to him with a confidence that a few months ago didn’t exist - he used to terrify you and when he plucked you from obscurity to be by his side, you’d barely been able to mutter two words to him. He had chosen, though, and you were to be his. He had seen something in you and so had persevered, not allowing you to be away from him for too long at a time, determined that you would not only grow accustomed to him but that you would learn to find pleasure in his company.

He extends a hand to you as you approach and unafraid, you reach out and take it as you step up on to the platform that the throne sits upon. You know that when he bids you to ‘come and sit with’ him then he wants you close and sure enough, he pulls you in and you hop up on to his lap. As huge as he is, you had been so self conscious the first few times; worried that you were not a waif-like figure. Such things are no longer a concern and you smile and lean against him as one powerful arm encircles you, his fingers stroking up and down your waist.

Your head tucks neatly under his chin if you press yourself fully to him, but you find that you’re feeling playful tonight. His immediate attention has been taken by the book that rests on the arm of the throne and so you slowly slide your hand up the centre of his back. He doesn’t react until you reach his neck, your fingers seeking the bare skin that hides beneath his mane of dark hair. You scratch the nape gently and he rolls his shoulders with a low, rumbling sigh of satisfaction. Encouraged, you turn your face up and deliver a row of small kisses to his jawline before reaching up to give a soft tug on his beard. He turns at that and you look up into stormy green eyes before giving a cheeky giggle, but your hand doesn’t relinquish its grip on the facial hair.

“Something ails you, my princess?” His voice is never particularly animated but you don’t find that scary anymore.

“You called me all the way over here, but seems you’re only interested in that book.”

His arm tightens around your ample waist while his other hand reaches up and covers over the one of yours that holds his beard. “Wanting some attention are you, little one?”

You nod as you give him a playful pout and a mildly pleading look. He guides your hand from his chin and then raises it to his lips, kissing it softly as you look on. He lets go of your hand and then nudges your chin up with one long finger. He kisses along your jaw just as you did to him and you close your eyes, enjoying the feel of the bristly hair against your skin.

“Such a stunning gothic beauty,” He murmurs into your ear, the timbre making you shiver pleasantly. “I knew from the moment I saw you that there was fire inside you.” He caresses the back of your neck with the tips of his fingers while his other hand seeks out the hem of your top so that he can touch bare skin. “It just needed someone to nurture that glow…” As his fingers stroke across your stomach you think back to the beginning of your time with him, when you used to try and move away from touches like this, fearing that there was ‘too much’ flesh there. Now you have no such worries and wriggle around, turning yourself in his lap as his kiss returns, to your mouth this time.

He teases your lips apart and you gladly open your mouth to allow his long tongue entry and place your hand on the side of his face. There’s still a part of you that can’t quite believe that you’re allowed to touch him, to kiss him and to lay with him. He chose you to be at his side; he chose to love you. You open your eyes and whimper slightly with disappointment as he draws back from the kiss and there’s amusement in his gaze.

“You’re wanting more, princess?”

“Always,” you reply, your thumb stroking his cheek.

“I rather fear that I shouldn’t.” He says teasingly. “You only just finished your make up and if I take you to bed then it’ll surely be ruined.”

You smile up at him and tug gently on his beard again. “I don’t mind.”

He growls at your latest assault on his facial hair and snaps his teeth playfully at your hand before standing up with you in his arms. You giggle delightedly as you know that nobody else sees this side to him.

“Very well, girl - you leave me no choice but to teach you some consequences for your teasing.” He dips his head and kisses you again before drawing back to nip at your lips with his teeth. You reach up, wrapping your arms around his neck and let your head fall against his chest as he carries you from the room while muttering dark, lustful promises.

TTT

Next

[sculptorofcrimson]

My Angel

@kit-williams I take FULL responsibility. Behold, more scary golden boys!

~~~~~

“Je prie les anges et les anges m'ont pris”

Translation from French: I prayed to the angels, and the angels took me. 

~~~~

It's not a pretty feeling, is it, when you are denied even the right to die?

The Aquilan Shields. The desire of any, the saviors of countless. The gilded heroes in gold and crimson, thundering from the skies. 

But they are not heroes.

They are not saviors. They are not angels, they are seraphims bathed in fire and brimstone and choking smoke. They do not chase off death, but rather prolong it, until you can die by their command. 

It is a tradition, they say, a practice that carried over from the First Custodian and into their Order. The First to seal what belonged to him in gold and crimson, the first lifebringer who preserved life in a dead man walking. The outcast dead, preserved beyond an end, beyond life, beyond even adoration itself, until love curdled into obsession.

He was the First of the Custodes, the First to adore so vehemently it was beyond even death itself. 

It is a tradition for them not to love, but to protect, to adore and nurture, to keep. It should be an honor. It should be adoration. Many want to be loved. No one wants to know. Many yearn for that pretty delusion, the warmth of the fire without fearing its heat. You cannot love a heartless man. 

It was hard to imagine Leinth had once wished for the stress of their regard. 

“You seem melancholy today.” He observed. His voice filters through perfect vox lines, yet she could detect no waver beneath it, no human imperfection. It was as if he had been mastered as a machine, without deviation, and without error. 

Leinth offered a wan smile, the girl kicking her thin shins out over the rooftop’s edge. He had found her with ease, as he always had, regardless if she was in the Palace’s grand gardens or had paid a civilian to carry her to the outskirts of Terra. He would always find her, after all. 

Sekhmet Andas of the Aquilan Shield made no noise as he shifted to a resting position besides her, making eerily little sound for one as large as he. For a moment they were silent, watching the setting sun bathe the slums of Terra to red, then crimson.

“I had thought Terra would be beautiful.” she spoke, after a long while. Sekhmet inclined his head. 

“What makes you think it is not?” 

“These.” Leinth gestures with one hand. Her fingers, still unused to the exercises she had been subject to, awkwardly form crude signs in thoughtmark. + These. The ones you never show. + Her voice had yet to be taken away from her in her ascension to a full Sister, but her freedom to roam certainly was. 

“You cannot drape wraiths in raiments and call them beautiful, Leinth. You cannot show the shadow of the sun.” Sekhmet, with surprising tenderness, gently nudges her index finger to the proper form. "Longer, Ley. Thoughtmark is not an unelegant language."

"But are they too not loved?" she bats his hand away. "These wraiths." Leinth couldn’t help but feel irate at the simple use of her endearment. It had once belonged to her brother once. 

"I cannot speak for them." he replied. "Only that they were not graced by His light."

"Like I wasn't?" Leinth chuckles softly, bitterly. "Like I wasn't blessed, for the first decade and half of my life? Worthless, until my gift was seen?" 

“No. You were…exceptional.” Sekhmet’s tone was as level as always, even in the face of Leinth’s capricious wrath. The thin girl was shivering, but seemed unnoticing of the setting sun’s cold. Sekhmet reached out, and wrapped his cloak around her shoulders. Leinth never looked up. 

“Oh, you.” Leinth’s giggle sounded far too jaded, far too cruel for a girl of her age, all of twenty-three and as bitter as a veteran. “You’ve spent so long in the gold, you’ve forgotten how to speak of the bronze.”

Sekhmet did not respond to that. He simply wrapped the cloak around her, and tried to fasten the clasp. Once more, Leinth shakes his hand away. Sekhmet contends with draping the fabric around her. 

When she next spoke, her words were laden with vitriol. “I had a brother once. Down here. We were together.” There was an old rancor here, an ancient ache. Her eyes had become unfocused, her legs swinging out into the void as she gazed upon Terra’s slums from the shelter of the rooftop. 

She sounded almost wistful. 

“We were together when Father died. You wouldn’t know. Of course you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t care how Liaser fed me, clothed me, fought off a gang and ended up losing a third of his index finger from a knifethrust that was meant for me. You never saw the bodies left in the streets to rot, the trashheaps we buried ourselves in to hide from the gangs, how he took in a pariah at the age of twelve and refused to abandon her. You never knew what it felt like to starve, not knowing if you’d live long enough to scavenge from the streets. But he refused. Not even when my gift suffocated him, not even if he hated my soul, but loved me enough even when I drew “visitors”. When my aura drew…others here. Visitors that beat him. Visitors that tortured him. Visitors that hated me, hated my mind. Visitors wanted me.” her eyes had become unfocused, bitterly embroiled in the past. Sekhmet placed a titanic hand on her shoulder. He could feel the Pariah’s pulse from here, beating fast and hard like a dying rabbit’s, her shaven head bobbing from side to side with seemingly no consciousness. She was shaking. His other hand, still clad in gold auramite, rubbed soothing circles next to her spine. 

She regained her voice after a few moments, still trembling. “One of them tried to skin him alive unless I showed myself, were you there to protect me from then?” 

“Ley, you know that-”

“Were you there?” She half screamed. “Were you there when they broke three of his ribs and I robbed a clinic with my gift, when I walked in and the doctor called me a soulless monster and ran? When I left that dingy, rundown place with credits in my bag, knowing they feared me, knowing they looked at me and saw nothing but loathing? Knowing how it felt like not to be unnoticed, but to be utterly hated?”

“The golden do not know hate, dear Ley.” His hand wrapped around her, tightening and dragging her close when she tried to move away. Leinth snorted in derision and annoyance. He continued on. “And they will never step foot nor hide, so long as you’re beneath my gaze, little Sister. Where love is made impossible for you, Pariah, then contend yourself with fear.” With more tenderness than thought possible for a creature so cold, he reached out and gently turned her head towards him, tilting her face up until they were eye to eye. Leinth saw nothing, not even the cold spark of life, behind those eyes. It was like gazing into the eyes of a corpse, a corpse that would hold her, love her, suffocate her, for eternity.

“Contend yourself with fear, little Pariah. Where they cannot love you, they will learn to fear.” 

Leinth pulled away from his grasp. “But I do not want to be feared.” 

She did not ask to become a Sister, she did not want to be plucked from her brother’s arms and paraded like a trophy before golden eyes. She did not ask to be in that alleyway when they came, her thin arms over her head as the blows rained down one by one, still hearing her brother screaming at her to run. Sobbing for her life, pleading to be spared, praying for the angels to come and save her. And she prayed, and the angels came to save her. 

“I do not want to be feared.” she repeated. 

“But you will be.” His grip was like iron. He did not allow her to turn away. Instead, he dragged her close, cold auramite upon her shoulders and her neck. “You will be feared, not loved. Because, after all, who else would love you except for I, little Pariah?”

Who else would love you, when the world itself has turned away in fear and horror? Who else could love her, when even the Emperor’s light could not warm her?

Who else would love her if not for him? 

Leinth tried to move away, but his auramite grip was unbreakable. He dragged her against him, and this time she didn’t even struggle. Unshed tears had dripped steadily from her lashes, her sobs too proud to be spoken yet too painful to be restrained. Her small frame was shaking, but her voice was bitter, and filled with more vehemence than either of them had known. 

“I prayed that night you saved me, you know. I prayed for you, Sekhmet. I prayed that you would find him and bring him back. But you never even tried, did you?”

The silence was his answer. 

“You never even tried to find him. You left him there. And you took me.”

[mrscoriolanus-snow]

Is it truly flattering?

Coriolanus is the kind of man to have an extravagant, or elegant nick name for the woman he loves or feels something for. His nick name being "My rose" or "Rose" maybe something along the lines of "Petal" "Flower" you name it. When you hear him call you his rose, theres just something so...violent about it.

Every morning, you wake up, and while watching him get ready, you see a trend.

The small vase of white roses sit on the grand desk, where he works from. Which gets replenished every saturday, at 3:30. Because that's when the green house gardens, are most warm.

He fixes his shirt in the morning, putting on his little thin suit vest. The small rose holder sits neatly on his left side

He strides elegantly to the vase. Picking up a rose. Pondering its shape, size and smell. Only seconds later, snapping it, so theres only about two inches left of the stem.

This isn't what scares you, or makes you concerned.

Its his small compliment is what makes this so... violent and somewhat scary

The man will say the most flattering seeming thing of all. "You are as beautiful as the roses which grow in the gardens...." quite a flattering line if I do say so myself

Is it really though...? Is the idea of being his rose really...that flattering?

I mean cmon! He snaps all of his roses at the neck and puts them to his chest like a prize.

Ultimately discarding them just to repeat the pattern over..and over..and over again..

Just a thought to keep in the back of your head. It might be a beautiful thing to be called, but what is its significance..?

Let me know how you feel about the name.

[petorahs]

because i will protect him.

Persona 3 FES/Portable/Movie/Reload: Closing Thoughts.

When I first experienced Persona 3’s story last year, it was at a time that I was beginning to figure out my life. It broke down my walls and seized me by the heart, but it cradled it lovingly as well. It reaffirmed all the personal philosophies I held at the time - in other words, my values.

Going into it I only had a vague idea on what to expect. I’ve only recently played Persona 5 Royal the same February before that, so I knew instead of its themes of ‘rebellion’ it would be themed around ‘death’. Instead of fallen ‘stars’ like in P5, P3 would be based around the ‘moon’ and all its phases. What also convinced me to play P3 so soon after just finishing P5 was its main character- Makoto Yuki. He was voiced by Akira Ishida in the japanese version which I immediately caught on to… I had to see it for myself since I was in an Ishida phase at the time (lmao). I expected to love him as far as liking silent protagonists/player avatars would go.

What I didn’t expect, however, was how deeply I latched onto the characters and main character in particular. I think it’s the way the friendships are a bit complicated and none of SEES really like eachother at first but learn to care and help despite that. It’s the way its messages are written in a clear thesis. I’ve written about them before, but it’s the way the only thing Death ever yearned for is life. That life and death can’t exist without the other. It has life palpable everywhere in the game. 

And Makoto Yuki. It’s the way that Makoto Yuki symbolizes the apathy one experiences in life but learns to find so many things worth living for anyway. I wouldn’t say I related to him because I’ve always enjoyed life while he was content to throw it away, so it’s another thing: Pure unbridled affection. To me, he’s someone I would devote myself to. To me, he reminds me of my little brother a lot. Shy, introverted, deadpan. To me, he’s every beautiful thing in this world. He’s like the moon, pretty and distant. Deep and emotional. He’s also like sakura blossoms. Transient. But still, so, so beautiful and precious. He represents a life worth protecting no matter what.

It’s in Aigis. Someone who echoes my sentiments with Makoto so perfectly - I didn’t understand anything about life and thought it was all about being “optimal” and that it can be replicated, replaced, redone. But I know now that it’s so precious; that life is so precious. I never found Aigis latching Makoto to be out of place or particularly fanservicey. To me, it’s like a natural progression of both of their character arcs. She didn’t have anyone in her life before. As someone who struggles making deep relationships out of my own nature/how I was built, I understood it. She delivers one of my most favorite lines in media ever, that “philosophy” I held so dear - "You don't have to save the world to find meaning in life... Sometimes all you need is something simple, like someone to take care of.”

And that’s literally it to me. There is no grand meaning behind it all. What matters to me is to hang out with my friends and family and be the kindest I can be to them. I want to be a light in their life, however small - kinda like how Makoto was to Aigis and all his other friends. I, too, would spend my whole life by his side just to follow in those footsteps. It’s pure and beautiful. An actual bond,

But then he dies. 

The thing about Persona 3 is that it never once romanticized death to me. Them shooting themselves in the head represents resolve, yes, but it’s always but gratuitous and framed in an unhinged way. Nyx Avatar, the final boss and actual symbol of Death in the game, has the face of a nightmare that made my heart drop when I first saw her. It knows that death is scary to everyone, so it represents that well. But it was clear what exactly it wanted to portray to its players: that despite death being scary, it’s not something to be feared. It can be peaceful, so long as you remember to live your life to the fullest. To quote my own post, “the meaning of life is hanging out with your friends on a mundane, sunny day during a graduation ceremony”. 

But that doesn’t stop the grief.

I can’t explain what it’s like to see my favorite character’s corpse rotting in real time. It’s actually horrifying. But the thing is - it wasn’t done without purpose. I accepted it, just like how I accepted everything about “The Answer” or, “Aigis’ Story” in JP. 

I quite literally put myself in the shoes of the one character who mirrored my own sentiments so clearly as she fought with the grief of losing the one person she swore to protect as he died in her lap. I was kinda crying the entire time. It’s so fucking real to me. The way that she reverted back to her “robotic state” but it was literally just her numbing herself to the pain. The way that Yukari had to escape by acting indifferent. The way that Junpei tries to act upbeat for everyone’s sake. Mitsuru’s quiet grief. Akihiko's respect. Ken and Koromaru's silent strength. But most of all, Aigis… and the way she’s so lost and confused. 

I lost so many family members in the recent years prior to playing P3. It’s never easy. Playing The Answer especially (and all of P3) put it all into perspective. I don’t know how, but all of these elements and plot beats in the game represented my feelings so perfectly.

Seeing its remake announced in June was actually serendipitous. I basically got to relive it quite recently. A year’s worth of nostalgia is still nostalgia. I loved a lot of the changes, and hated some others. 

But every time I experience Persona 3’s ending, I end up crying though. Unfailingly. And I’ve experienced it many times by now. Every time I think I’ve “gotten over it” I literally do not. Prior to P3 the only media that started making me cry was The Good Place’s ending. 

I think Reload’s was the worst. What they did with player proxy death in this one felt way more insanely real I think. Or Maybe it’s the sea. How Ryoji says in FeMC’s route and in Reload to Makoto how “the water is going on a journey, too. It must be having fun”, “The waters all converge to its source, like us.” Maybe it’s how the sea and moon are so intimately connected. Just like how life and death are. Maybe it’s the way that even nihilism represented by Strega isn’t actually wrong as framed by Reload, it’s just not the message this time around in this game. Or maybe it’s hearing the voices of everyone (social links) who loved him and was touched positively by him also echoing my thoughts. Maybe it’s the way that the ending felt way more personal when you choose to not romance any of SEES, especially Aigis. That platonic love goes beyond any of that and makes every act of devotion and speech about bonds feel actually real (despite how cheesy it seems!). 

All I can think about after playing it every time is that I will love the people in my life so, so hard from now on. So much that they wonder why. For a game about death, it sure does make me live my life more fully. 

It’s just… real. This game and all its themes was perfectly concocted. The moon, the sea, spring, rebirth, and the sakura blossoms. And you. It’s all so precious and beautiful. I want to remember and protect it, always. I want to live for it all.

[mckitterick]

Seek Wonder, Not Happiness

We have so many types of initiatives – self-help books, programs, and even careers – centered around achieving happiness. This is a problem, as it forces us to interpret our experiences through a single – often overrated – emotional lens.

In this video (full transcript at link), Monica Parker argues that we should instead should pursue wonder, which is neither wholly positive nor wholly negative.

Parker likens the feeling of wonder to watching a butterfly emerge from a chrysalis – it is beautiful, complex, and even a little scary. This profound mix of awe, curiosity, and fear, is something that, when achieved, can expand our resilience and deepen our interpretation of the world around us.

The key to wonder? Slowing down. She argues that tuning into our three types of “wonderbringers” – natural, social, and cognitive – and incorporating “slow thought” activities into our lives, can help us be more receptive to wonder and the benefits it provides.

Rather than single-mindedly pursuing happiness, we ought to instead fill our days with things that spark wonder and fuel our curiosity and passions, which can help us overcome emotional barriers and live truly fulfilling, wonder-full lives.

The foundation of speculative fiction (to my mind) is what has long been called "Sensawunda," the opening of doors in the reader's mind they didn't even know were there. Fiction that evokes this sense puts the reader in a position from which they can see humankind from a new perspective.

In fiction, the sense of wonder can lead to conceptual breakthroughs inspired through paradigm shifts or shifts in perspective - time, distance, fantastic worlds, vast or microscopic scales, the Other, and so forth - that lead the audience to see things and even themselves in a fresh light.

In life, this kind of perspective shift can open our minds to the wonders of the cosmos, from its most minute building blocks that shape matter itself to the hidden structure of the universe and beyond into the multiverse. Shifts in perspective are necessary to understanding the natural world as well - science rises from the foundation of sensawunda. Personally, this feeling reveals aspects of the human condition inaccessible to the self-centeredness that can be difficult to see beyond in our mundane lives.

As a child, this is what drew me to watching ant hives do their thing, to reading books about dinosaurs and astronomy, to buying my first telescope to explore the universe first-hand, and to forming a high school science club. Once I discovered it was a thing, seeking the sense of wonder drew me to reading science fiction, then writing it, and eventually teaching it.

Even if I wasn't aware of it, I think seeking the sense of wonder shaped my whole life - it's what brought me to Lawrence, Kansas, in 1992 to begin studying with SF Grand Master James Gunn, then to helping him run his SF Center for decades, and recently to forming the nonprofit Ad Astra Institute for Science Fiction & the Speculative Imagination (@adastra-sf here on Tumblr) to better focus on sharing the sensawunda with others, including helping writers do the same, creating as big a wave of sharing this sense with more people through the fiction my students write.

I hadn't thought of it as an alternative life-path to seeking happiness until reading Parker's piece, but she's onto something important. Happiness is elusive and fleeting, while sensawunda opens the mind and grows our individual universe.

If happiness is what you seek - or at least the absence of unhappiness or freeing yourself from the kind of emptiness that comes with depression or existential dread - seeking the sense of wonder is possibly your best path in life. And far more reliable than directly seeking nebulous "happiness."

Watch those bugs and imagine their lives. Watch birds fly and imagine how the air feels to them as they use it to control their world. Watch meteor showers and picture the billions of years those grains of comets have been orbiting the Sun. Study the layers of sediment laid down over millions of years and touch the fossilized remains of beings who lived long before humans walked this planet. Explore the human world to see new places and meet new people unlike those in your prior world. And, yes, read fiction that shifts your perspective like this wrapped in exciting and compelling narratives.

Open your world to new perspectives, open your mind, open your heart, and feel your soul soar on wings you didn't know you have. Seek the sense of wonder, not because it'll make you happy (though it might), but because you have no idea what you'll find.

And what you discover could be the most wonderful treasure in the universe.

[kootiepatra]

#FFxivWrite2024 - Day 17: Sally

“HEARTLESS!”

The cry erupted from Lyhe Ghiah and echoed around Il Mheg, vibrating the prismatic crystals that jutted out of its soil, and causing every last one of its residents to startle and snap to attention. Granted, this was not as terrifying as the sounds which had lately emanated from the castle under the previous Titania. Or at least, it wasn’t scary in quite the same way. But it was still a sound that not a single fae could ignore.

Inside the throne room, Feo Ul, King of the Faeries, flew in a steaming, indignant circle around their throne, causing the various fae beings who attended them—or who simply liked loitering around the castle—to be in a dither over their agitated state.

They continued to fume. “You mean to tell me that those mortals are taking on some grand, world-saving endeavor, and they have invited literally all of Norvrandt, but we have not received so much as a whisper? See how cold, and cruel, and heartless my adorable sapling is!”

“If I may, Your Majesty,” volunteered an attending Nu Mou. “Did you not tell her that we fae should not be counted upon to interfere in the affairs of men?”

“IMMATERIAL,” Feo Ul bellowed. “Well. Perhaps a little material. But how were we to know she’d go and find such an interesting way to do it?”

The pixie who had brought the news fluttered about in nervous excitement. “‘Tis true, ‘tis true! I heard the mortals planning; they are going to turn the mountain into a great big man!”

“Really? Them? With their pitiable command of magicks?” asked the Nu Mou, sounding doubtful.

“To what end?” asked another.

“Why, to chase down Vauthry, of course,” Feo Ul huffed.

“What’s a Vauthry?” chirped a small voice somewhere in the crowd. 

The more worldly fae, who actually bothered to keep tabs on such things, simply made noises of disgust at his mention. A representative of the amaro ruffled her feathers. “He is the leader of those wicked Eulmorans,” she grumbled with disapproval.

That certainly made everyone understand. The memory of Eulmore’s intrusion into their domain was all too fresh in their minds. While it had been an exciting day—oh, what a laugh to see their faces when the sky went dark overhead, and especially when some of them began turning to leafmen—there was no forgetting the indignity of it, the insult of these mortals who tromped into their beautiful meadow, bold as brass.

“Yes, yes, that’s the one” the King said with a wave of their hand, “But now my sapling is going after him and has not even called my name, despite my explicit instructions. Oh, what am I to do with her?”

“Would you like us to teach her a lesson?” offered a Fuath, a little too eagerly.

“NO!” thundered Feo Ul, a small wave of sparkles erupting from their crown. “She is my sapling. MINE. If any lessons are to be had, I shall give them myself. …Yes, come to think of it. I shall teach her. Oh, I shall teach her well.” They spun around and addressed the whole room. “So! Do you know what we shall do?”

The question was clearly rhetorical, so they all murmured their willingness to hear more.

“We shall gather everyone up, we shall sally forth, and we shall go help our mortals whether they asked us to or not! That will show them.”

“Leaving Il Mheg?” a more timid Nu Mou asked in shock.

“Shall we go invisible?” one of the pixies suggested.

“Some of us can’t go invisible,” sulked the Nu Mou. 

“Well may I go invisible?” the pixie asked Feo Ul.

“It matters not!” they replied impatiently. “Visible or no, the point is, we are going. We’ll go out there and be so useful, so powerful, and unleash such an unbelievable deluge of magic, we shall make them wish they had thought to call upon us sooner! Then they’ll be sorry.”

A cheer went up from the gathered crowd. The King carried on.

“We shall gather up everyone—all in our realm who are able. We need those who can fly, and we need those who can play nasty tricks. Ideally, both. But we shall team together those who can do only one. And then we shall all fly to that dirty old mountain, and we shall lay waste to every sin eater we can reach! Oh, we shall have SO much fun.

“And when my darling sapling comes to me begging, ‘O merciful and good Feo Ul, most lovely and majestic, forgive me for being so heartless, for I am but a foolish mortal—’ which, at least, she had better—then I shall decide whether or not I shall forgive her. We shall see if she learned her lesson.”

With a peal of laughter and a wave of their scepter, the King dismissed their swiftest pixies to fly to all corners of Il Mheg, and gather every single inhabitant who was fit to travel. They would stage on the banks of Longmirror Lake before taking flight to Kholusia. But they had not a moment to lose. It was time to remind these mortals again just what the fae can do.

[lovebillyhargrove]

Billy's camaro Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4

Steve Harrington wakes up feeling the weight of the whole world on his shoulders. He doesn't want to get out of bed, again. He doesn't want to start breakfast, dress, go to work. Again.. let him just lie here, listening to silence and thinking of all the things that could have been different.

Ah yes, the could've should've would've, Steve's knows it aaall by heart now.

It's been gnawing at his insides for months.

***

See, they didn't even do anything. They'd just been pushing each other around, shoving one another, making snarky remarks or straight up ignoring each other. Looking. That's all they've been doing.

Steve should've talked to him. He could've just fucking talked. And maybe, just maybe everything would've turned out not the way it had.

Cause now, when Billy was dead and gone, Steve can't find peace. What if he had tried having a conversation with him, what if he had offered Hargrove a cigarette, what if he had made an attempt to just get to know the boy who ended up dying to save all of them. How did he even find it in him .. to stand up to that thing. To face it, fearless and strong.

Steve thinks about Hargrove every day now. The boy he knew nothing about.

The boy he wants to know everything about.

Steve doesn't tell anyone, but there had been something else. Ever since he saw the new guy from California in the school parking lot, Steve had been having .. feelings.

Strange ones, thrilling ones. Scary. He'd seen Billy in his filthiest dreams multiple times and woken up with a boner, still choosing not to connect the goddamn dots. Blamed it on the months of dry spell instead. Blamed it on not getting any.

And it wasn't like Steve had lost a person who he'd been very close with. He and Billy weren't close. Were very distant, always just orbiting near each other. Colliding only once.

Was it just Steve, or Billy had also seen him in his dreams?

Steve will never know now. Fuuck.

Steve's a fool.

They weren't close but the Starcourt bursting fireworks grand finale with Billy's crescendo had crushed Steve in the ways he didn't even expect. Steve lost his peace of mind ever since.

He also .. okay, he felt kinda guilty for the car. Billy's Camaro. Steve knew that he had crashed into it to protect the Party. There was no choice. Still, somehow it felt as if he had committed a crime.

The guilt was looming over him and Steve sincerely felt like shit for what he had done.

***

So it's just another day. Steve wakes up and doesn't want to move. He has to go to work. Doesn't want to. Has to call mom about some family stuff. Is not gonna.

Instead, Steve decides to do something about this unending ache. It's not like he has the powers to bring Hargrove back from the dead but there's something that's been on his mind. Some unfinished business. Something that was his own fault and he wants to atone for.

Steve doesn't go to Family Video. Doesn't even call in sick or anything. He'll deal with it later.

Instead, he goes to the old junkyard.

The mangled corpse of Billy's camaro had been towed away to the outskirts of Hawkins and left among other ghosts to slowly rust away. Keeping memories about its owner that only it knew.

Steve drives to the old scrapyard. It's morning time, and the sun is bright and cheerful. Steve's even excited. It's like.. he's going to see an old friend. Weird.

Steve finds it easy. It's there, the crippled beauty. The dent that was Steve's doing, is huge. The paint has almost flaked off. The car looks lonely and fragile.

It's a heartbreaking sight. Steve is literally this close to tears.

But hey, he's come here with a purpose. Billy is dead. Not forgotten, but gone. Maybe Steve can at least do something about the car.

He opens the driver's door. There's something symbolic about it, Billy had done it thousands of times.

Gets in the driver's seat, shuts the door. Fuuck. It's too much.

Steve is a fucking idiot. He should've talked to Billy when he still had the chance. Because sometimes life doesn't give you the second one.

The camaro is indeed in a deplorable state, and the inside? The inside looks bad, but probably .. not too bad. Steve doesn't know much about cars, but he definitely feels there is hope.

Steve opens the glove box. There are some tapes there and an open packet of Marlboro Red. A few condoms. A couple of Polaroids of the ocean. A Hawkins map.

He places his hands on the steering wheel. Steve had always secretly liked Billy's car. His own beamer was great, but .. he couldn't really call it his car, you know? It was a gift from his parents, that they had chosen. Billy's car .. it had personality. It had fire. Just like Hargrove himself.

Speaking of fire, why is the sun getting so hot? Steve felt as if the wheel started to get warmer. Hotter. Ouch, fuck! Did it just get so hot it burnt his fingers??

Is the seat suddenly hot? What the hell is happening? Maybe something is wrong with .. with the ignition, Steve is really not an expert.

He puts his hand on the door handle and it fucking burns too. It also .. it doesn't open. What the .. He tries again. It's burning hot but he pulls it again and again, but the door

just.won't.open.

It's getting even hotter, excruciatingly hot. What is going on here .. Steve has to get out. He's having trouble breathing. He has to get out, fast!! He leans to the passenger's side, wants to open the door there but suddenly.. the fuck!!?? The safety belt comes fucking alive, crawls like a snake around Steve's chest and waist and slides into the buckle. By itself.

Click.

What kind of fucked up shit is that?? Oh god. This is crazy. Oh god oh god oh god what the fuck

The belt holds Steve in the seat, tight. He can't reach the passenger's door, he can't move and it's getting even hotter. What the hell is happening, please, what is it??? Steve's trying to unbuckle the belt, but the lock is stuck, everything is fucking stuck, and the belt is getting tighter and tighter and oh christ .. he can feel the smell of gasoline.

Steve understands very clearly --

He's fucked.

[nikofortuna]

JTTW Chapter 29 Thoughts

Chapter 29 for the @journeythroughjourneytothewest Reading Group!

First up why did the parents name her Hundred Flowers’ Shame though? I’m inclined to believe they meant it like she puts even a hundred flowers to shame with her beauty. Both the J. F. Jenner and German translation confirm this as well. Given the track record of the novel so far though it was only natural for me to squint a little and stop to think about it for a moment. This is likely a case of things having become a little unclear in translation with the Chinese name probably being very clear in its meaning when you understand the language.

Precious Image Kingdom is called Elephantia in the J. F. Jenner translation, which I find quite hilarious.

This chapter’s creature feature is the scorpaenid. They probably mean scorpaenidae which is a fish! They’re better known as scorpionfish though fishes called Dragonhead also fall under that family!

This is one of these beauties!

However from what I could gather from the Chinese Original with the help of Google Translate and images specifically looking at [鰲魚 Áo yú] it seems to be a mythical fish with the appearance of a dragon, so this was likely the closest translation available.

Yet in the J. F. Jenner translation it is a turtle instead of a fish, which makes for a decently cohesive image as well. And if you only take the character [鰲 Áo] it can refer to a mythological turtle, so this can be seen as a plausible translation as well.

Moving on to some place names, personally I prefer the J. F. Jenner translation here for the Halls and Palaces. They just sound a little too silly for the grandeur they are meant to portrait in the Anthony C. Yu translation.

Hehe, Tang Sanzang is collecting those seals like loyalty stamps on a stamp card. That’s a pretty decent metaphor as to how it works since he gets one in every place with his grand price at the end when he collected them all being the scriptures.

Green hair you say? Why that sounds like an anime character! Also yes, golden eyes, blue face and green hair all checks out in terms of accurate colour translation.

Now the other two translations specify that in the letter she means her two sons are bad, which makes me wonder if she even tried to raise them to be good. Like the father’s influence is undeniable since he probably had a hand in raising them as well, but nobody is born bad and they did also have their mother sooo. I’m just saying. It would understandable if she has a difficult relationship with them given how they came about, but flat out condemning children like this is not okay.

On a lighter note I really hope he actually means a couch looking like a dragon that would be so cool! It probably isn’t, but the mental image of it is still nice! Tang Sanzang should really start mentioning upfront oh yeah, they are demons so they look really scary, but they are good guys so you need not fear them. Just calling them ugly sets incomplete if not false expectations.

[silmforrookies]

Chapter I. Ainulindalë, or The Gang Creates a World

The story so far: In the beginning the Universe was created. This has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move. (©Douglas Adams)

Alright, so if anyone asks, blame it all on Eru.

("With all my due respect, Noldo," you may ask, "are you already making me learn names? In this economy?" Yes. Yes I do. This is Silmarillion, prepare to suffer.)

Anyways, back to the start. You see, in the beginning there was Eru Ilúvatar, aka "The One", aka "Dad Of The Millenia", also known as "God", and in the beginning, there was absolutely nothing. Zero. Nill. Nada. Only the Void.

Eru's been chilling in the Void for absurd amounts of time, unknown and unbothered, untill the loneliness became so dull he said, "you know what? Maybe kids are the flowers of life". And so, Eru created the Ainur, and now he was chilling in the Void with thousands and thousands of eldritch abominations who all had a weird obsession with music.

The kids, of course, started making friends, organizing in groups and trying out various music styles, but, since no music styles were yet created, they... didn't really know what to do with themselves? So they lingered in the Void, all confused and figuring themselves out, sometimes trying to sing, sometimes listening to others sing, and sometimes just cuddling with Eru because Eru was big and strong and steady in this scary world of everdeveloping musical styles and tastes.

Oh yeah. Eru.

You see, Eru knew how to sing. And after the initial amusement over his kids' behaviour and slowly developing social skills passed, he gathered them together and said,

"To hell with sheet scores!" Eru proclaimed. "To hell with music theory! My children, by dearests, my beloveds, improvisation is the way to go! Listen and do like me!"

(The Silmarillion, Eru Ilúvatar, probably)

And so Ilúvatar sang, and since he was a God and also Allpowerful, that was the most beautiful song ever created; and it was so breathtaking, and its ending was so perfect, that the Ainur fell silent - until Eru told them to start singing, to weave their own Melodies around his grand and flawless Theme. Diversity-in-unity, amirite.

And the Ainur sang.

It was a great, mighty Song, consisted of many motives and of many Singers. The Ainur sang, pouring their very souls into it, rising their voices and mending them into a wonderful Harmony, brought together with Eru's Theme; and it was so beautiful it filled the Void, and the Void was no more - and it is said that never again did the Ainur create something compared in greatness to this.

And then, Melkor happened. If anyone asks, blame it all on Melkor. You see, Melkor decided that Eru's Theme wasn't enough. That maybe, just maybe, Eru missed something that Melkor can find and weave into his Melody. Melkor's an artist, it's his vision! He can claim artistic liberties and wander a bit off, right? Just so his Music is a tiny little bit louder. Just so he's heard above the others. Just so he makes sure Iluvatar knows Melkor disagrees with him on certain points.

And so, Melkor created a Discord, that was gradually growing louder and louder. That, of course, brought a certain confusion between the Ainur, and some of them stopped singing entirely. Others, though, said "yo, this guy SLAPS" and joined Melkor on the discord.

And what about Eru? Well, Eru's all for artistic liberties! But, come on, Melkor isn't Eru's only child. Melkor is one of thousands! And currently half of them are either Very Confused or going absolute badongas with the Discord. So Eru, as the good father he is, rises from his throne and sings a new Melody, gently correcting Melkor's, erm, "artistic liberties" and asking him to play nice and get along with his countless siblings. Melkor, of course, responds to this with chaos and outrage of an eldest child who never truly got the meaning of being the "eldest", and starts telling Eru that no, actually you're in the wrong, old man, and I will do what I want. At this point Eru thinks he should've invented discipline before inventing music and sings a new Melody, now with a stern look on his face.

Unfortunately, the Discord grew into something that could be hardly called "music" anymore, just banging and screaming and smashing of endlessly repeating sounds, and Melkor doesn't plan to stop anytime soon! So Eru, who by this time is absolutely pissed, grabs the Music and ceases it with one last perfect-wonderful-youknowthedrill accord. Everything falls silent, and the Ainur look at each other, wondering what in the everloving Void just happened.

"Great are the Ainur," said Eru, "and Melkor is the greatest of them! Now listen here, you little shits, I feel some of you didn't get the drill..."

(The Silmarillion, Eru Ilúvatar, probably)

So anyways, Eru has two rules:

He is the source of the Music, allknowing, allpowerful, allforseeing etc and no matter how hard certain individuals try, they won't be able to create anything outside his Vision™

Everyone who tries to break the first rule Will experience the Narrative and Will become an instrument for Eru's perfect plan

And, while Melkor was busy unlocking new emotions called "Embarassment" and "Anger", Eru showed the Ainur the world they created - Arda, and also introduced them to Eruhini - Children of Ilúvatar (Elves and Men), showed them the potential for creation and committed some other minor propaganda with intention to get the Ainur interested in developing and fleshing out the world - because, in reality, it wasn't yet created and was but a vision. So. Yeah.

Some of the Ainur were intrigued. They went into Arda and committed themselves to it, shaping the world for the Children of Ilúvatar. One of them - also the greatest of them - was Melkor.

Here's what you need to know about Melkor's motivation:

Unfortunately, other Ainur weren't fans of Melkor getting Unlimited Power™ and having him as their King, so Melkor splitted from them - first peacefully, to do his own thing on the other end of Arda, but then, envying other Ainur's achievents, started causing problems on purpose - aka destroying things, leveling mountains to the ground, draining out the oceans, creating volcanoes and indulging in other vandalic activities. And so it was for Eru-knows-how-long: Melkor destroys, Ainur create; Melkor trashes the place, Ainur clean it out; Melkor behaves like a brat, Ainur grit their teeth and deal with the mess.

Of course, with Melkor getting in the way of other Ainur's creative process, the world couldn't be shaped in the way Ainur wanted or the way they intended it in their own Song; but slowly, Arda was becoming more and more beautiful - more and more ready for the children of Iluvatar.

Well, that was it for the Ainulindalë! Next up is Valaquenta, aka "wow, that's a lot of names"...