#and I'd rather just be aware and of sound mind instead

[kittlyns]

I keep jolting awake and every time I do there is so much fear in my heart and I honestly don't know why

[teaboot]

This is gonna sound rather conceited but I feel like it highlights an issue we have in Art.

I'm good at art. I've never had a hard time making art. I started using crayons before I could walk. Painting, Beadwork, sculpture, sketching, stippling, whatever- once I have a feel for the material, it doesn't take long to start doing what I want with it. It's been a common theme my whole life.

(Y contrast I'm awful at things like dancing, performance, sports, etc- in all things there is balance, right?)

Now, I've taught myself to use so many artistic mediums now that I KNOW how to most efficiently integrate them into the brain database. Once you really *understand* a material, it's much like memorizing the layout of your house, or flexing a muscle, or something in-between- it becomes PART of your brain in a way I cant quite articulate. But to get there involves just fucking around for a bit doing nothing in particular.

And I've found, especially in group settings, that nobody seems to be able to see you make something badly and leave you alone. Even if you say you're fine, you don't want help, you're happy, you're having fun, it's fine, they gotta ride your ass and hover.

I was at a class the other day for something I hadn't done before. The medium was one I've never used, so once the instructor told us the basics I started experimenting with weight, gravity, texture, viscosity, saturation, temperature, etc. The instructor had given enough info to know what was dangerous and what was safe, and beyond that I just wanted to absorb what I could about it.

And no insult to the instructor, but they kept checking in. Which was fine the first few times.

But then, without asking me what I was trying to do, started giving tips. That I told them I was grateful for but didn't really need just yet. If I had a question, I'd ask.

But they kept coming over. And touching my shit. And manipulating my project. And touching my hands. And using my tools. Without fucking asking.

And this happens every time. EVERY TIME. And by now I know the best way to get them to fuck off is to make something way beyond their expectations so they know I'm capable, then go back to doing what I want.

So I did. I wanted to keep having fun and learning, but instead I made something beautiful that I really didn't want to make, and wasted my time, and really didn't learn what I wanted to learn at all. I knew the formula to create a beautiful thing, so I followed that formula the same way I have a hundred times before, and didn't get to try anything spontaneous or ugly or exciting, just so I could be left alone.

And I know when I was a kid, I was aware aware people saw me puttering alone on something ugly assumed I had a special issue and treated me like I was stupid because of that. (I was neurodivergent.) And at at time I knew that I could do a neat trick for them like a trained pony and they'd go, "Oh, surely they aren't defective if they can do something like that!" And piss off.

But what if I hadn't known how to do that?

What if I hadn't been talented, or "special"?

What if I'd been just any other average kid trying to learn, and I couldn't pop something pretty out of my ass to get them off my back?

My problem my whole life has been that I haven't been allowed to make anything ugly in peace. I'm capable of beauty, so I have to make beauty, or get stepped on. And once people see what I can do, they get loud about it. "Look at this! Look what they did! We all know who the best is, don't we?". And that used to feel good, but it's tiring.

And how many people like me just wanted to play? Just wanted to have fun and experiment? Who were having fun with no goal in mind, or just took longer to learn, who gave up because of all the obnoxious helpers breathing down their neck with no way to shake them off?

How many of us are made to feel defective because we aren't doing things beautifully?

I have a lovely piece of art I didn't want to make.

I think I'm gonna frame it.*

(*I think I'm gonna burn it in my yard.)

[a-hazbin-reader]

Not me back on my BS 👀

Imagine being Alastor's wife in life and thinking you had the perfect husband even if he was a little distant most of the time. Then he goes missing, and you spend your entire life searching for him despite everyone around you wanting you to move on

When you die and become an angel you just assume that you'll see beloved Alastor again only to be confused that you can't find him. So you spend your afterlife roaming heaven in search of your husband.

It never crossed your mind that Alastor wasn't in heaven.

Until you find out about Adam and his exorcist army going to hell every year, and then you're stuck with the uncomfortable idea that your husband might be a demon. So you find a way to sneak down into hell during the extermination.

You almost regret the decision once you see the carnage and horror happening around you but you're determined to find Alastor. You don't even care that you're stranded in hell once the extermination is over, you had to know if he was down here.

You're easy prey for demons, so you have to do your best to be discreet about your true nature while you try to get information about Alastor. Only to find yourself surprised and confused when people talk about The Radio Demon instead.

"That couldn't be my husband..."

Your husband was kind, gentle, and warm with you while this Radio Demon sounded cruel, manipulative, and cold-hearted. The idea of these two Alastors being one and the same was baffling to you.

But despite your denial, all the facts lead to back to this overlord, a princess and a hotel... so for the sake of your sanity, you decide to find this hotel and put your fears to rest. You hide your angelic features as best you can and head out with your heart in your throat.

The hotel is beautiful and grand yet a bit creepy feeling, it's also rather empty despite it's large size. You feel swallowed up by it as you step inside, looking around for any sign of your Alastor but finding none.

You're just about to turn around and leave, satisfied that this lead was a dead end when suddenly a tall blonde demon woman in a red suit stops you, all smiles and giddiness. Somewhere in between excited squeals and being dragged around by your arm you manage to catch her name.

"You're Charlie..? As in-"

"OH! Don't let that silly title intimidate you! I'm here to help!"

She starts showing you around the hotel and introducing you to the staff and other guests, obviously assuming you're there to stay.

"Ah, I'm sorry, but I'm not here to be a guest... I'm looking for my husband and heard he might be here."

"You're husband? Well, I'm sorry but you've already met everybody here except for Alastor-"

"What about me~?"

You immediately recognize the voice behind the static, turning to see your husband-The Radio Demon-your Alastor-

He takes you in slowly, his smile faltering every so slightly-more of a twitch really- and his eyes widening in surprise once he realizes you're standing in front of him

"Y/N? What are you doing here?"

You're already walking towards him quickly, drawn to him like a magnet and forgetting all about pretending to be a sinner, wrapping your arms around him as you try not to cry with happiness.

"I've missed you so much, Alastor....I never stopped looking for you-this has to be a mistake why weren't you in heaven? I thought I'd see you again after I died but then you weren't there either and-I had to find you!"

He's stiff and awkward at first, hyper aware of your audience and baffled by your angelic appearance. How did you even get down here?? You didn't belong here-why did you try to find him?

Alastor grabs your arms and makes to push you away but one look at your watery eyes and he melts just like when you two were alive. He suddenly pulls you in tighter instead and refuses to look anybody in the eyes, instead focusing on you.

His wife, his innocent wife who had forced her way into his heart back when he was alive was here in his arms. She left heaven to come find a man who had only married her for the sake of keeping up appearances and stayed with her because she made him feel...something close to love...(it was love) (was not) (was too)

You had no business being in hell, not when there were so many ways you could get hurt down here. So many different ways he could hurt you... So Alastor nuzzled his head into your hair, breathed in your scent and pulled away from you.

Sharp claws scraped against your chin as he forced you to look into eyes that were once so familiar to you, his grip loosened slightly as you cupped his cheek. Even now that his true nature was revealed to you, you were unafraid and enamored with him.

"You should've stayed in heaven, my dear. As much as I have missed you as well... you don't belong down here-"

"I belong with you, I'm not leaving when I only just found you again!"

Your stubbornness when it came to him was always something he had liked about you, he was glad to see you still had it. At a loss for how to send you home and some part of him missing your company, Alastor decided to make a selfish decision.

"Alright my dear, you can stay down here and rot with the rest of us if you wish~ But I must warn you~"

Your relief is cut short when he suddenly pulls you in close by your waist, sharp teeth snarling at you in a twisted evil smile as you stare up at him with wide eyes.

"Warn me about what..?"

Alastor pulls you in a bit closer, lips nearly touching yours when suddenly he drops you and you barely manage to catch yourself. He's chuckling and walking away from you, a mean side to him that you've never seen before.

"You're going to have to deal with the real me now, I do so hope you can handle it~"

Spoiler alert: Wifey can match his freak just fine once she gets the hang of how things work 😏 but he's gotta try not to fall for her~

Ugh had this idea in my head for awhile where wifey is an angel who sneaks into hell to find Alastor but has to come to terms with the fact that he's MEAN 😡 and Alastor has to keep up the mean persona because all he wants is to spoil and coddle wifey but HES NOT IN LOVE HE SWEARS HE WAS ONLY USING HER AND ALL THESE FEELING AND URGES ARE JUST SECOND NATURE FROM MANIPULATING HER FEELINGS

Then maybe a part 2 where wifey realizes that a lot of their relationship is one-sided and she left eternal paradise to be with this jerk but oops- Alastor realizes how whipped he is for her and that he actually loves her

☺️

[iamespecter]

TADC OCs: "The Die Quartet"!

"Oh but Ziku, who are these very handsome die?"

Well I'm glad nobody asked, because that would ruin the joke!

The Die Quartet are OCs of mine that I created for TADC, and for what purpose? Well, they're the minds behind show's music!

Hidden just behind a corner or two, or four, These obliviously mischievous and enthusiastic quartet play whatever music they can, one that certainly matches the current "mood" of what the cast is going through. Meet Cuba, Dodeca, Tetra, and Octa, The Amazing Musical Performers, for The Amazing Digital Circus!

LORE AND BOUNDARIES UNDERNEATH THE CUT!

When the Circus was initially created, it was feeling too barren for a place that's meant to be "lively". And so, Caine went and copy-pasted himself four times, while replacing the heads with some die props he found on the floor, retexturing and adjusting their bodies, to fit their new roles.

A little bit of a code rewrite to make them able of producing any sounds all on their own to be musically intertwined, and the quartet was basically ready to go: but there's only one problem.

Caine completely forgot to remove the admin privileges from their code.

So once the four spawned, they immediately began floating around, dancing and creating the main theme for the circus, and did it all perfectly. So Caine decided that as long as they don't interfere with anything major in the circus and did their job as the musical minds behind the show/game's soundtracks, he doesn't really care about fixing this error and would rather let these four run rampant to create more songs.

Ever since then, the Die Quartet has been messing with every circus members, most of the time playing obnoxious music that fits the "current mood". You'll even see their canes dance to the tempo they've set, like some backup dancers.

Think of it like: You now have x4 Caines with dice heads, flying and snooping around, so that they can "improve the mood" with their music! Ain't that swell??

(But really, all they do is just annoy the Circus members just like Caine does, for the better or the worse. Probably the latter.)

Fun facts about the Die Quartet!

Even though they've all been created at the same time and share the features of a die, they do not consider themselves as "brothers", and only see one another as colleagues instead.

Their names are related to the type of their die: Tetra (yellow), Dodeca (purple), Cuba (red), and Octa (green).

Despite being reused assets of Caine himself, they have distinct personalities that separate them from each other: Tetra is more joyful and playful, Dodeca is a more dramatic/theatric and over the top, Cuba is the natural lead and more stern than anybody, and Octa is the more closed off of the gang but willing to provide his best.

Yet, they all still lack awareness of personal space and boundaries just like Caine, and WILL be intrusive towards anyone they set their sights on, with the intent of predicting their mood and setting the current situation perfectly in musical form. (ex. if a character is sneaking, all four will follow "cautiously" behind while one imitates/pulls out a tiny piano playing to the theme of "tip-toeing". You know, like a cartoon gag.)

Although they can perfectly imitate ANY sound or instrument imaginable, They'll still pull out a "physical" instrument if the gag calls for it.

BOUNDARIES!

You can pretty much draw fanart of them! In fact I would REALLY love to see it and I encourage it! Really, just don't claim them as your own, or steal their designs.

NSFW of them is accepted, but please keep in mind that I have an SFW blog. Which means THERE ARE MINORS. Show them to me privately instead, I'd still love to see it <3

While NSFW is accepted (privately), please make it a morally decent one, because I don't really wanna see some disgusting stuff. This pretty much includes: non-con, scat, etc.

Aside from that though, I hope you all enjoyed these four! I really love how they turned out, and would love to draw them more. I was initially hesitant on showing my TADC OCs because I don't think people would like 'em, but fuck it.

My boys, they deserve to be seen even if just by a few people on the internet.

[svtiddiess]

hi! can i req a drabble for seungcheol + no. 127 & 134 from the second prompt list (fluff+smut | prompts pt. 2)? thank you!

"I Think I Might Be Dying...These May Be My Last Words." + "Someone Might See Us!" + "Isn't That The Fun Of It, Love?"

Pairing: Seungcheol x afab!reader

Genre: fluff, suggestive, non-idol! au, established relationship, drabble

Rating: suggestive/mature

Word count: 0.6k

Note: I changed it up just a tiny bit, I hope you don't mind!

Request a drabble from me using these prompts!

You're at a business event with your husband, Seungcheol. The evening is meant for networking, building connections, and sealing deals, but here he is, clinging to you like an overly dramatic puppy instead of playing the part of the composed CEO he's supposed to be.

"I think I might be dying…these may be my last words," he groans dramatically, his arms wrapped around you as he buries his face into your shoulder. He looks up at you with those puppy eyes, his lips forming an exaggerated pout.

You sigh, shaking your head in disbelief. The CEO of a multinational corporation, reduced to whining over a minor cough. Honestly, it’s embarrassing.

"Cheol, it’s just a cough. If you don't quit whining, the only thing killing you today will be my bare hands around your neck," you huff, trying to sound stern but failing to hide your amusement.

He lets out a soft whine, nuzzling further into the crook of your neck. It's painfully obvious he doesn't want to be here and is doing everything in his power to convince you to leave.

"Please~?" he mumbles against your skin, his voice dripping with faux desperation.

"Cheol, you know this is important. We're here to network and make deals, not to sulk," you remind him.

"But it's so boring," he whines, pulling back just enough to look at you. "I'd much rather be at home…doing you."

"Cheol!" you hiss, glancing around to make sure no one overheard. Thankfully, the nearest guests are far enough away to be out of earshot.

He smirks, his hands shifting from a casual hold to something more deliberate, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

"Don't act like you’d rather be here than under me, love," he murmurs, his voice low and teasing.

Your face heats up at his words, and as much as you hate to admit it, his little act is working. The way his hands slide down to rest on your hips, his fingers brushing against the curve of your ass, is making it hard to focus on anything else.

"Cheol," you whisper, your voice trembling slightly.

"You know how good I'd treat you," he continues, his lips brushing against your ear. "I’d make you come with just my tongue at least twice before stretching you out with my fingers."

You bite your lip to stifle a whimper, your body betraying you as it responds to his words. His hands tighten on your hips, pulling you closer as his lips trail along your jaw.

"And then," he whispers, his voice rough, "I’d give you my cock. You'd like that, wouldn't you? Being fucked so good you can't think straight."

Your breath hitches, and you’re suddenly very aware of how much you'd rather be anywhere but here. Maybe leaving early wouldn't be the worst idea.

Seungcheol leans back slightly, his hand cupping your chin as he tilts your face toward his. His smirk is downright sinful.

"I think I just figured out the perfect cure for my cough," he says, his voice dripping with mischief.

"What is it?" you ask, already knowing the answer.

"You," he purrs before grabbing your hand and leading you away from the crowd.

You let out a small yelp as he pulls you into an empty room, his lips immediately finding your neck as his hands roam over your body.

"Ch-Cheol! Someone might see us!" you protest, though your voice lacks any real conviction.

He chuckles, his breath warm against your skin as he pushes a strand of hair behind your ear. "Isn't that the fun of it, love?" he whispers before capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

Taglist: @tinyelfperson @gyuguys @stay-tiny-things @unlikelysublimekryptonite @miyx-amour @iamawkwardandshy @codeinebelle @brownbunnyb @do-you-remember-summer-127 @sclovreina @theidontknowmehn @toplinehyunjin @gyuhao365 @mysticfairies @cherrylovescheol @cookiearmy @4shypotato @lxnnrobin @sashaaahh @xueisaaa17 @aeriyell @eshia16 @dreamingofpcy @archivistworld @kyeomiis @iwannakisspoutycheol @foxiesgf24 @livelaughloveseventeen @aliiikareed @jennwonwoo @brownsugarbaybee

[kiwi-backup]

Backseat

Pairing: (modern, bad-boy) Ryomen Sukuna x reader

Warnings: mdni, step-brother Sukuna, tipsy reader, oral, penetration, no protection, fem reader.

wc: 3.7k

Am I using the 'I'm stuck step-bro' trope? Yes...absolutely...

a/n: my ask box is open if you have any jjk requests! <3

Ryomen sighs and puffs on his cigarette while waiting for you to emerge from the club.

Standing on that street, leaning against the black car he'd rather trade for his motorcycle (but your mom insisted he pick you up in it instead, to his dismay) is the last place he wants to be.

He's not exactly 'big brother' material, nor did he feel like one anyway. His dad and your mom somehow met after two messy divorces, decided they were the ones for each other, packed their lives up, and forced the two of you to become siblings—step-siblings.

That differentiation is critically important to him, especially during times like these while watching you waltz out of the club wearing a dress that's sickeningly short, visibly buzzed while you say goodnight to your girlfriends.

Jesus Christ...could you have picked anything shorter?

He shakes his head and pulls in a long drag of his cigarette before dropping it in the gutter and wedging it into the concrete with his boot. The vapor seeps from his lips while his eyes subtly run down and then back up the length of you.

Fuck.

Riding on the high of having a good night out with friends, you grin while approaching the car.

"Surprised you actually showed up to get me..."

He can already feel the restraint slipping in the back of his mind at the sound of your voice...at the vague tease in your words. Usually you're more reserved around him, but thanks to whatever you drank, you seem a lot more open. A lot braver.

Ryomen scoffs as he watches you pull the car door open, giggling while you slide into the passenger seat. "What, you thought I wouldn't come get you?"

"Shouldn't I be surprised? Normally you'd tell me to fuck off or something."

Despite himself, a faint smirk pulls on his lips, well aware of the truth in your words. He closes his door, puts his seatbelt on, and starts the car. "Yeah, well...I'm not a complete jackass. Besides, your mom made me."

Amused by his reluctance, you hum as he pulls away from the curb and begins through the small town. With your eyes out the window, you don't notice each time he glances at you from his peripheral, taking in how stupidly perfect that dress looks on you.

In this moment, he's more than glad your parents didn't meet any sooner. While gaining a step-sister wasn't on his list of ideal outcomes, at least you were both adults when it happened, meaning that sibling connection never snapped into place for you two.

Instead, it feels more like being roommates while he dicks around living at home while working at a garage, hitting the gym, and tuning up his Harley whenever he has the chance. You, on the other hand, are busy finishing up at a local college.

You see each other in passing, forced to be cordial during family events despite how you both get under the other's skin as easily as breathing.

It's agonizing, especially since he's forced to be so near you at times...pretending like he hasn't wanted you since the day you met.

"No? That's reassuring at least," you return, breaking his concentration.

He snickers, not wanting to admit he actually finds you somewhat amusing at times. "I have my moments."

"At least you've learned some humility over the years."

Ryomen cocks a brow as he glances between you and the road while he turns onto a familiar street. "You're sharp sometimes, you know that?"

You grin, leaning against the backrest while the streetlights move overhead. "Yeah, I know."

"Just don't cut me, yeah?"

Emboldened by the drinks in your system, you sneak a look at him in return. "Why do I have the feeling you'd like that?"

Both brows go up at that, and he can't deny how that sparks his interest. "Easy now...don't go getting all lewd on me."

"Lewd? I'd never..." you return, grin saying otherwise.

Ryomen's surprised by this, but he'll be the first to admit your teasing sarcasm is arousing. He scoffs and shakes his head to try and stay focused on the road, mumbling under his breath, "Always the smartass..."

"You like it, though."

A part of him hates how right you are, but he masks it with a snort. "Oh shut up."

Chuckling, you glance over into the backseat, searching for something to help soothe your dry throat. "Got any water in here?"

Keeping his eyes on the changing light in front of him, he hums. "You tell me. Why?"

"I'm thirsty."

He sighs. "Can't you wait? We're almost home."

"No," you mumble, noticing the faint glimmer of water reflecting the streetlights as it rolls from under the backseat. Your face brightens as you reach for it. "Bingo..."

Ryomen rolls his eyes, watching for half a second as you bend around the seat and reach for the bottle. His pulse quickens at the sight before correcting himself. "You're not gonna reach it."

"Yes I will," you say stubbornly, voice muffled from behind his seat. Annoyed by the seatbelt restricting your movements, you unbuckle it and shuffle forward a bit until you're folded over the center console.

Ryomen's brows furrow when he hears your straining sounds, glancing back to see your ass lifted in the air, seemingly unaware of your bare thighs from your dress riding up. His eyes widen slightly, and he clears his throat. "Cut it out, brat...just wait a minute."

"No," you bark back, straining still as your fingers barely brush against the bottle. "Damn it."

The more you stretch, the higher your hem moves up, baring more of your smooth thighs and allowing the light-blue lace of your panties to peek out beneath. The sight alone makes his breath catch.

"Oh Jesus fucking Christ..." he mutters under his breath, feeling his cock stir within the confines of his jeans. It takes everything in his power to not reach over like he wants to.

Oblivious while the blood rushes to your head, you murmur, "What—"

Then, your breath catches the moment Ryomen hits the breaks, and the force sends you further between the seats until your hips are wedged in the middle. From this position, stuck between the seats, your ass is completely in the air, straddling the center console. You hear as he puts the car in park.

"...Ryomen?" You ask, voice still muffled, unable to wriggle free on your own. "Why'd you stop?"

"We're...home..." he manages to get out, eyes locked on your almost bare ass sticking out right next to his head, given a complete show of your panties and the soft curves that have him stumbling internally.

"Oh..." you murmur, trying to move to no avail. "Can you help me then?"

"Yeah..." Ryomen says with a faint rasp, unable to look away while he sits there in the parked car, nestled in the mostly dark garage. "I can...help."

With a sigh, you wait in place, feeling as he brushes a hand against the back of your thigh, slowly moving up. His fingers grip the one while the other seems to wander slightly.

After a moment, aware of the very languid pace he moves at, your brows furrow slightly. "Ry?"

He clears his throat, croaking as his fingers brush against your inner thigh. "Y-yeah...just a minute."

Unsure of what he could possibly be doing, you shiver at the light touch of his hand moving higher before squeezing the soft flesh of your ass. A spark of sensation rushes through you at once, unable to ignore how intense that simple action feels.

"Ry—"

"Just try to relax...I'll get you out in a sec..." he mumbles, mostly to himself.

He's so fucked.

Being mere breaths away from your arched ass, feeling your soft skin under his palms, and knowing there couldn't possibly be a more perfect moment is enough for Ryomen to harden in his jeans.

Unable to resist, he leans in, pulse thudding beneath his skin from the temptation. Almost like he's caught in a trance, Ryomen brushes his lips against the junction between your upper thigh and beneath the roundness of your ass.

Your breath hitches as you register the faint touch, becoming more aware of it as he presses more light affections against your skin. At the same time, his opposite hand cradles your ass, giving it a faint squeeze.

Cheeks burning, you try to look back at him, but can't see from the seat. "Ryomen..."

"Shh..." he utters, getting lost in the wet kisses he leaves while moving closer to your core. "Just...shut up for a minute."

You bristle at this, but the feeling of him drifting closer to your core is enough to make you shiver, along with his tongue tasting your skin. Despite yourself, something in you doesn't want to move.

"Jesus..." he murmurs, reaching your panties and seeing how they squish against your curves. He brings a finger forward, teasing at the fabric before running it up and down the length of you.

Ryomen hums as you shudder, pressing a bit more until he can feel your slick beginning to soak the fabric. A darker, hungrier look glazes his eyes.

"Look at you, doll...already dripping, hm?"

Cheeks flaming by now, unable to fully comprehend that this is actually happening, you pant quietly from your position.

Wordlessly, he nudges the material to the side, able to see your arousal glistening against your skin, wetting your folds.

"You've gotta be kidding me..." he rasps, feeling more of his restraint crumbling.

He shouldn't be doing this. He should help you out of the car and make sure you get inside all right...not looking at you like a meal, running his fingertips through your heat. Not feeling tempted to just cut that space...

He knows all of this, but the moment he hears your breathless sound in response, Ryomen can't help himself.

Leaning forward, he sticks his tongue out and drags it through your pussy from behind, lapping at your slick. His eyes shut immediately at the feeling and taste, humming somewhere deep in his throat.

Your thighs clench immediately as a shudder moves through you, unable to swallow back the surprised gasp that escapes without resistance.

"Ryomen!"

"I know...god, I know..." He mumbles, licking his lips while he looks you over hungrily, gripping your ass to spread it while he dives back in, licking at your heat more thoroughly. "Fucking hell..."

Your eyes roll back at the sensations that tear through you, gripping the back seat while he ravishes you, eagerly devouring every inch of you. His hums and groans only make you shake more, gasping and panting.

Ryomen growls into your pussy while his tongue maps out every inch of it, seeming like a starved man. He buries it as far as he can, bringing his thumb up to blindly fumble with your clit.

The sharp breath that comes from you, paired with the trembling of your thighs, is enough to make him so hard he can't think about anything else. He can't even consider the consequences of what he's doing...or what could happen if one of your parents were to find out.

Instead, he laps at you greedily, spreading your addictive slick around his lips and cheeks.

God, he's never tasted anything so sweet—so painfully sinful and arousing.

He shouldn't be dirtying you like this, but consequences be damned. He wants this...needs this.

He needs to make you cum and he needs to know it was him who accomplished it.

"Fuck..." Ryomen whispers against your soaked core, dragging his fingers through your pretty little folds, feeling just how worked up you are for him. "I didn't think you felt this way about me, little sis."

Stuttering over the onslaught of pleasure he feeds you, along with his words, you gasp, thighs clenching around his hand. "D-don't say that..."

He can't help but grin as he kisses your ass, letting his tongue drag across your skin for a moment. At the same time, he slowly eases two fingers into you, setting a slow, languid pace within those constrictive, plushy walls. He swears this'll be the death of him.

"What, you don't want me to call you 'sis'?"

The taunting words only cause you to shiver more, whimpering at the torturous pumping of his fingers while you clench around them, skin on fire.

"S-stop...we're not siblings," you mumble, trying to convince both of you at once. "Siblings don't—hnngh...they don't do this."

Ryomen chuckles and gently sinks his teeth into the fat of your ass, groaning at the feeling before leaving another kiss there. "I guess you're right. I'd rather take you as my girl...my pretty, needy girl."

Something about it has more shivers running through you while gripping the back seat, hips moving involuntarily. "Please, Ry..."

"Please what, doll?" He returns with a knowing lilt as he just barely brushes against your clit.

More whines escape your plump lips while you catch yourself grinding against the console, backing up against his fingers for more. He's right...you're needier than all hell.

"Don't tease me."

"No?" He questions, cocking a brow while he curls his fingers.

A gasp escapes you before it melts into a needy groan. "P-please... I wan' it..."

A shiver rips through him at your breathless words, and he's well aware no part of him will be able to resist.

He's feeling just as eager as you are, if not worse.

Growling to himself, Ryomen kisses your skin again before carefully withdrawing his fingers, making you clench around nothing with a soft whimper.

That sound alone makes his cock twitch while he works his belt undone, followed by his button and zipper. His voice comes out as a harsh mutter roughened with need. "You sure about this? Once you say yes, there's no going back...there's no coming back from this."

You're well aware that he's completely right, but in this moment, with you spread out for him and feeling worked up thanks to his touch, there's no way in hell you're not following through with this.

"I'm sure...please. Please, Ry..."

There's something so innocent yet lewd about the way that nickname falls from your lips, making him shuffle his jeans down even faster.

"You can't say anything about this...neither of us can," he mumbles, pushing his briefs down until his raging cock is in his hands and his eyes flutter shut from the vague friction of his fingers wrapped around himself. "This stays between us, baby. Promise?"

Biting your lip and moving back impatiently, you shudder the moment his cockhead brushes against your soaked heat. "Y-yes...I promise. Just...give it to me."

Ryomen groans at your insistence and the delicious sound of his pearling tip gliding through your slick. He huffs out a breath and teasingly begins to part your pussy as he slowly pushes forward.

The rush of sensations that come with easing inside your cunt are enough to make his hips stutter and his breath catch. That paired with your gasp has him squeezing his eyes shut.

He can't even be bothered to push you through to the backseat to fuck you properly...he can't wait. He has to have you here, right now...wedged between the seats and perfectly open for him.

"Fucking hell..." Ryomen spills, finally feeling every inch of himself wrapped up by your hot walls while they squeeze him almost affectionately. At least, that's how he wants to see it.

His hands situate on your hips while he stills, pressed firmly against your ass. He grunts, soaking in the blinding sensations until he feels seconds away from imploding.

He's had his fair share of lays, but goddamn...there's something different about being nestled inside you...the one pussy he shouldn't be in. But that only makes it all the more addicting.

When he finally pulls back and rolls his hips forward again, hearing the muffled jingle of his belt with the movement, a deep shiver travels down his spine, and he bites back the moans bubbling up inside him.

"Fuuuck..." he mumbles, voice rough with absolute desperation. He grips your ass and hip tighter as he gradually picks up the pace, listening to the way your moans pitch higher.

Ryomen watches through heavily-lidded eyes all the while your back arches even deeper and your fingers pinch into the fabric seats. He watches how your pussy swallows him up eagerly with every slow thrust, ringing him with your arousal.

It has an endless drip of lust flooding his system, and while he's only just getting started, he feels so pussy drunk he can hardly think.

Instead, he's reduced to a primal version of himself—an addict getting a tiny bump with every flick of his hips...with every time your cunt clenches around him.

"Please..." you whimper, jaw slack. "F-faster..."

Whether its a plea or a demand, he doesn't care. Working on instinct, Ryomen grips your hip hard, reaches up for your hair with the other hand, winds it around his fist, and pulls.

The soft gasp that dribbles from your lips as your back is forced to arch deeper, half suspended in the air pulls a growl from Ryomen's lips.

"This what you want?" He utters, jaw clenching as he fucks you harder, ramming his hips against your ass. The previous care and gentleness once in his touch seeps away as his need gets the better of him.

A string of incoherent babbling leaves your mouth as you moan louder, skin getting hotter by the second.

Ryomen smirks at this, amused and aroused by how he already has you fucked completely stupid. God, you're so perfect. So needy, so slutty, so...completely his.

He hums, keeping up that mean pace while he bullies his way in and out of your pussy. "That's right...you've been begging for your step brother to fuck you, hm? I bet you think about it all the time."

A whimper, eclipsed by several sharper moans is all you can manage while the brutal ramming against your cervix has you seeing stars.

Almost like your useless panting and trembling is fueling him, Ryomen grins and huffs, thrusting with everything he has. "I bet you've been dreaming about this moment...fingers playing with this pretty pussy before bed, thinking about me and what I'd do to you. Close enough?"

You groan, eyes rolling back while he releases your hair and drops his hand to toy with your clit. The strangled sounds escape you all the while you clutch the back seat again, taking every hard thrust. "Y-yes..."

Satisfied by your breathless answer, Ryomen sinks even deeper, leaning over you while he flicks your clit still. "So honest, hm? You're being so good for me, letting me fuck you dumb. You wanna cum, don't you?"

Throat beginning to ache from how often the moans are torn from it, you weakly nod, feeling as your whole body tenses. "P-please...please, Ry..."

He loves the way those desperate pleas leave your mouth, and while he'd love to push you further to make you beg, he knows he can't hold out.

Everything about this forbidden moment and the way you clamp around him so tightly has him bordering the edge, barely holding back the need to let go.

"Do it then, pretty girl...cum for me," he utters, snapping his hips harder into you, feeling the heat getting the better of him. Every muscle in his body strains from the force of his movements, but he doesn't care. He can only think about pushing you both over the edge. "Fucking cum for me...show me how much you love t-this..."

Like the break of a dam, you come completely undone, crying out his name in a sharp bid of absolute pleasure, clenching around him and milking his cock so completely, you're both seeing white.

The wrecked sounds that escape you, along with the fluttering of your cunt around him sends Ryomen over the edge, and he locks up completely against your ass, bursting with wave after wave of his seed.

Thick ropes get buried deep inside you as he grips your hips hard and lets that blinding euphoria hold him so tightly, he forgets to breathe until he's sucking in air again.

He shouldn't have spilled inside you like that...he knows this, but something about that knowledge makes him shiver with every harsh rise and fall of his chest.

Filling you too full, Ryomen can feel as the excess spills out of you, dripping onto the center console. Its a mess and he knows the car reeks of sex, but in the moment, he doesn't care.

He can only slump over you while catching your breath, pressing the occasional kiss against the back of your neck, feeling your rapid heartbeats against his chest.

"Fuck sakes..." Ryomen whispers, pressing his cheek against your clothed back. He slowly regains his bearings, but is far too blissed to move. "What have you done to me..."

He really did fuck you brainless and boneless while you remain slumped there, oblivious to the reality of what just happened for the time being. Your skin feels slick and sticky from your combined release, your body is still hot, and the blood has rushed to your head through it all.

While your hips aren't wedged anymore, you're still pinned, and after a moment, your ragged voice breaks Ryomen from his sated stupor.

"Ry? Think I can move now?"

At the realization, he pulls up, chest and abs glistening from the exertion as he pulls at his shirt for a breeze. While he loves the sight of you perfectly wrecked beneath him, he relents, then a dark grin pulls on his lips.

"On second thought...get in the back."

Your eyes widen slightly at his words. "Huh?"

"You heard me..." Ryomen murmurs, gliding his hand over the swell of your ass while his mind starts spinning with the ideas running rampant.

"I'm not done with you yet, sis..."

[billthebullfrogs]

sure thing.

“Hey, firecracker,” a voice—unmistakable, to you, at least —calls from behind, and you instantly knew who it was. “Need to talk to you.”

There was only one person that would call you that nickname. Luke Castellan, the bane of your existence, thought it was extremely funny to remind you of that one time you almost burnt down the pavilion. The moment they figured out it was you; you had earned the nickname you dreaded so much. He loved reminding you of embarrassing stuff you did. You desperately wanted to wipe that self-satisfied smirk off his face. What did he even want? Didn’t he have something better to do than to bother you?

He leaned against one of the posts in the arena, eyebrows raised expectantly. He just needed a change from training the newbies. He wanted to go all out, and the best person to do that with was sadly you. Well, at least the satisfaction he’d get from beating you—because he would beat you, obviously, was totally worth it.

You sighed, “What?”

“Need a sparring partner, that's all,” he said, a smirk still tugging at the corner of his lips, now accompanied by a raised eyebrow. “And I'd rather have you than anyone in this camp.”

“That sounded too nice for your standards... Are you that desperate?” Your eyes narrowed; you were skeptical.

“Desperate to beat your ass, yes," he said, an easy laugh breaking past the steely look on his face. Luke was aware of the fact that he often annoyed you, and maybe he liked it just a little. "Besides, I wanna try some new sword techniques I came up with. So, whaddya say? Pretty please?" His head tilted a little when he said that, he was giving you that look.

You were silent, biting your lips just like you always did when you were focused. After a moment, you gave in. “Fine,” you said. Maybe you’d benefit from this, too.

"That’s my girl," he said as he casually walked toward you. "I promise not to go easy on you. If you feel like you're gonna trip and impale yourself with my sword, just say the word, alright?" A smirk flitted past his lips, though his words seemed genuine enough. Luke knew you would never stop being rivals. But the feeling of respect he had for you was real. He trusted you and even cared for you, but he’d rather commit war crimes than admit that.

“Fuck you,” you spat as you got into your signature fighting stance. Maybe this was a mistake, but if you gave up already, he’d think you’d gotten cold feet.

“If you ask nicely.”

That smug bastard. You hated him with all your heart. You hated his stupid smile and the way he made everyone around him feel comfortable, even you. You hated the butterflies he gave you. You hated his guts.

With a smooth slashing motion towards his torso, you started the fight. He blocked it with ease. Without a further word, Luke went in towards you with a quick and precise strike, sword arm extended forward in a tight grip with the tip aimed towards your sternum. He wanted to overwhelm you, thinking you hadn’t improved since the last time you sparred. But oh, was he wrong.

You’ve been watching him, his rather aggressive style of fighting, and the look in his eyes when he tried a certain move for a long time now. You’ve fought him many times before, and you were getting the hang of it. You’ve been training a lot, and while he was busy with the new campers, you had developed your own, unique fighting style. He knew you as a pretty good fighter, who could almost keep up with him on a good day. Almost. But now, you’d surpass his expectations. You blocked his hit, your body moving smoothly like liquid. Instead of using all your strength to try and withstand his attacks, you just gave in. Let loose. You used the force of his hit and channeled it, transferring it into your own with ease. He did not see that coming.

You'd always had a strong sense of intuition and your body would respond accordingly, as if it had a mind of its own. Luke was quick to counter, his body leaning back with a fluid motion to avoid any of your quick strikes, all the while trying to find an opening. The back-and-forth movement that was once just a spar has now become a deadly dance of swords, the two of you constantly in motion, no pause in sight. There is a certain excitement in the air, almost a spark that has ignited your mutual hostility and aggression.

Your movements were fluid as if you could predict all of Luke's moves in advance. You were a master of timing, of anticipating all of the demigod's strikes. Not once could he match your fluidity, his movements jerky compared to your graceful flow. There was something about the way you both fought so elegantly that made you feel like you were part of an agile performance, each of you matching the other's movements perfectly. It felt less like a fight and more like an art.

Yet even as you moved with effortless ease, the clash of swords kept you both on your toes, your bodies moving in such perfect sync that neither could find a flaw in the other's defense. Your movements almost appeared as if you were both working together, but this was not the case—in fact, Luke was becoming more frustrated by the second as he strained to find a way to slip past your guard.

“You’ve improved,” he breathed out while you fought. “I like it.” The way he said that sent shivers up your spine. It was embarrassing how these words affected you so hard that you made a small mistake. It was a mistake that could happen to even the best swordsmen in history, but a mistake nonetheless. And it led to his sword held at your throat. You fucked up. And he made you feel it, the cold tip of his sword gently tapping your chin, forcing you to look up at him. You prayed that he didn’t notice the color on your cheeks.

“You're distracted too easily.” He looked serious for once, that glint of smugness had left his eyes for just a moment. “I win again.” And there it was again, that stupid smile of his. He dropped his sword and held out a hand to help you up. You let him pull you up, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. “Did you get what you wanted out of this fight?” You asked, and he nodded. “Much better than trying to teach the newbies not to drop their swords while fighting.”

“Good,” you turned to walk away, but he grabbed your wrist. “Same time tomorrow?”

You could’ve said no, could’ve walked away, could’ve done ANYTHING, but instead, you looked at him and said, “Sure thing.”

[midnightsun-if]

How would ROs react to a Mc who is off in their own little world just playing with the ROs' hand before slotting both their hands together and holding it, just looking happy with themselves and not noticing the ROs watching them?

Koda: "I like this."

The soft statement, pulls you from your thoughts, causing you to meet gentle whiskey brown as Koda offers you a broad grin, his large hand encapsulating your own. You hadn't even noticed that he had turned to you and, from the looks of the darkened screen, had shut off his movie in order to give you his attention.

"Like what?" Your mind finally catches up on the sudden conversation, tightening your grip on his hand. "Me zoning out during one of your favorite movies?"

His grin widens further. "No," he replies, the rumbling sound of his laugh reminded you of the bear that lurked within him. "I like that you feel comfortable enough around me to do so. It makes me feel good knowing that I can bring you that much peace."

Surging forward, you press a gentle kiss to his cheek, enjoying the way he takes the opportunity to turn into a hug. "Even if I should be paying attention?" You lay your head against his broad shoulder. "Turn the move back on, Koda. I know how much you enjoy this movie and I promised I'd give it a chance."

"I'd rather watch you any day."

Scarlett: You're startled from your thoughts when a delicate kiss is pressed to the inside of your wrist, you hadn't realized that you had zoned out that much, wherein you hadn't even been able to notice that Scarlett had shifted closer. Though that was the crux of the matter, wasn't it? Scarlett made you feel more serene than you had ever felt before, a steady rock in the whirling storm, welcoming arms after years at sea, the feeling of home all wrapped up in one person-- all of this ensured that you ended up drifting off to the whims of your mind, surrounded by the presence of the woman you love.

"Penny for your thoughts, my heart?"

The raspy chuckle intertwined with the question, coupled with the sparkling glint within viridescent eyes, causes your face to heat up in slight embarrassment. "Wasn't really thinking," you admit, rubbing the back of your neck ruefully. "Was just off in my own little world, I suppose." You angle your head to get a better look at her, well aware that she hadn't let go of your hand, choosing to rub her thumb across your knuckles soothingly instead, and it causes a warm feeling to settle within your chest. "What were you doing?"

"Staring at mine."

Cyrus/Cyra: It's not one singular thing that pulled you from your thoughts, nor was it anything super apparent, but something had been tugging at your mind in order to get you back into the present, to become aware of your surroundings once more. It's only when you turn your head and meet gentle golden eyes that the reason became apparent, the loving smile curling their lips filled you with warmth and a familiar tug of affection at your heartstrings.

"Were you just going to continue staring at me as I played with your fingers?" You ask, a teasing note in your tone. "Or would you have stopped me at some point?"

They tilt their head, pale blonde hair shimmering in the light. "Why would I do that, my flame? You're quite the bewitching sight to behold. I don't see why I would deprive myself from something so beautiful?"

You roll your eyes, fondness settling within your body like a soothing balm to your soul. "One of these days you're going to get bored of staring at me, Cy."

"I don't think that could ever happen; I was made to look at you like the Sun was meant to look upon the Moon."

Quinn: "Having fun there?"

You shouldn't be as startled as you were, if you're being honest, as Quinn's presence hadn't exactly slipped your mind, but your body still gave a light jolt regardless. Something that elicits a gentle chuckle from the wolf at your side, sapphire blue eyes watching you with utmost affection. It's only now, as their familiar warmth spreads up your arm, that you realize you had intertwined their hand with your own.

"Sorry," you apologize, angling your head to look at them better on the couch. "Didn't realize I zoned out that much."

"There's nothing to apologize for," Quinn soothes. "Do I look like someone that needs one? I'm quite content where I am."

"Are you sure?" It's something you can't help but ask, to make sure that Quinn didn't mind simply sitting back and relaxing on the couch -- not when you knew that they had planned to go for a hike through the forest. "I don't want to keep you from where you wish to be."

"The only way you'd be able to do that is if you left my side."

Caden: "I-I should p-put on some gloves."

It's a statement so out of left field that you're instantly aware of your surroundings, and the panicking phantom that was looking down at your intertwined hands with growing concern.

"W--" You clear your throat. "What? Why would you need to put on gloves?"

Pale silver eyes look almost doe-like in their worry. "I don't wish for you to get cold. I know it can't be the most comfortable thing to be touching me for this long." Caden dips their head, dark curls falling across their forehead haphazardly. "I should put on some gloves."

You flex your fingers around theirs, fully aware at the cool feeling against your own skin, but it wasn't overall unpleasant, especially not when you could feel Caden skin-to-skin. "I don't mind it, Caden," you soothe, a gentle smile on your lips. "But if you'd like to let me go then I won't hold it against you."

"That's the last thing I could ever want."

Sloane: Their hand tightens around your own, pulling you from your thoughts, as you suddenly find yourself tugged into their side, the smell of smoke and something inherently them surrounding you, as they settle back into their own spot; either completely oblivious, or ignoring, your confused stare. However, as you knew they would, Sloane soon broke as they had never enjoyed being stared at.

"Why are you starin' at me?" They huff, finally leveling you with a look. "Do I have something on my face?"

A smile upturns your lips. "No. I'm just curious why you decided to cuddle." You smooth a hand over their abdomen, crinkling the fabric of their old band-tee slightly, as their own arm tightens around your shoulders. "Since we're in the living room, out in the open, don't you have a rep to protect?"

It's an old joke, one borne from finally getting them to watch Grease 2 with you, but Sloane simply peers down at you with an undecipherable expression, before they lean forward to press a light kiss to the tip of your nose.

"The only thing that I have to protect is in my arms right now."

Blake: You almost jump out of your skin when Blake settles firmly into your side, their arm wrapped snugly around your waist, head firmly planted on your shoulder. "You're too cute, angel." They poke your cheek, violet eyes peering up at you through thick lashes. "Don't you know that I can't keep my hands off of you when you act like that?"

Having known Blake for as long as you have, although getting used to the romantic aspect of your relationship was still new, you were well versed in the confusion they could cause, but even this took that cake. Something that must have shown clearly on your face as Blake's smirk only broadens further.

"What are you on about, Herrera?" You shake your head, careful not to dislodge them all the same. "Act like what?"

"Like I'm someone worth holding onto."

Reginald/Regina: "Do you want to watch something else?"

A gentle tug to your hand brings you from your thoughts, the sounds of fighting becoming more apparent as the movie played on, but gentle blue-green eyes held you captive: the easy way they hadn't let go of your hand, simply interweaving your fingers together more firmly, or the depth of the affection within the turbulent waves of their gaze, causes your breath to catch.

"If this isn't your cup of tea, I'll be more than happy to watch something else." They incline their head towards the television, a wry smile on their lips. "Cause if you're not enjoying this movie, I don't think you'll enjoy it when we get to the prequels."

You shake your head. "No, I want to keep watching." Even if it was only to see the passionate gleam in your favorite pair of eyes as they watched the screen. "Just got caught up in my own head for a bit, but I'm good." Attempting to lighten the mood, you tease. "I'm surprised you were able to notice, I know how involved you get with these movies."

"Never to the point where I wouldn't notice you."

[adh-d2]

Lil' Obimaul fic snippet

Two Men and a Baby Zabrak AU

Summary

In which a disastrous attempt at ambush and subterfuge on both sides leaves Obi-Wan and Maul trapped on the ruins of Dathomir. Maul needs Obi-Wan alive for his lightsaber and his intel. Obi-Wan needs Maul alive to teach him what the hell to feed this abandoned baby he's found...

Word count: 570 | WIP | SFW | Dividers by @xurengu0

Maul gives a sidelong glance to the bundle that hasn’t even stirred in Obi-Wan’s arms.

“Perhaps there is a reason it was left for dead. It has no survival instincts to have slept through all that.”

Obi-Wan bristles, torn between a twinge of shame at his own actions and the strangest instinct to defend the child’s honor.

“I told you, he’s hungry. He cries the entire time he’s conscious. I-I’m enlisting a little help from the Force to keep him asleep for now. I don’t want him to suffer unnecessarily.”

“Then you should smother it before it wakes.” Maul doesn’t even break his stride, his eyes still scanning their surroundings like the predator he is. “Even if we find something to feed it, it will hunger again. It will be cold. It will cry for its mother, and she will remain too dead to soothe it.” His voice is low, conversational, as if he were discussing something as mundane as the weather. “To live is to suffer.”

Obi-Wan is silent for a long moment. The wave of contempt he braces himself to feel, then release into the Force, never comes. Instead he simply observes Maul. He watches the way the zabrak’s body moves as if on autopilot; as if hunting for food with nothing but his wits and his bare hands was so mundane to him as to become instinct. His horned head shifts in response to a near-imperceptible sound, and as his eyes catch the light his pupils seem to disappear in a flash of refracted glow. ‘He can see in the dark’ Obi-Wan thinks, a dormant memory of his studies of zabrak physiology returning to him. There was a time, not long after Naboo, when he’d obsessively trawled the archives for any information he could find on Dathomirian zabraks. ‘Well, the adult ones at least’ his mind ruefully supplies, aware of the weight of the infant in his arms. He’d hidden those long nights of research from everyone at the temple, knowing the mind healers wouldn’t approve. Something about unhealthy coping strategies. Even now he couldn’t explain exactly why he did it beyond the fact that he’d needed to know. if he’d just had the information, was there any weakness he could have exploited, anything else he could have done…Obi-Wan wrenches his thoughts away from the past. The man before him looks every bit the nightmare that has haunted Obi-Wan’s dreams for the past decade. For all of the countless hours that Darth Maul had consumed his thoughts in the years since Qui-Gon’s death, for all of the agonizing and analyzing and ruminating, Obi-Wan still finds himself unprepared for the reality that the Sith is walking right beside him.

 ‘But he is,’ the whisper of a thought sounds just like his old master. Obi-Wan takes a steadying breath, relaxes his shoulders, and centers himself on the present. On the living force. For perhaps the first time since their fateful duel all those years ago, Obi-Wan looks at Maul and allows himself to simply be curious.

To live is to suffer, he’d said.

“You’ve fought awfully hard to stay alive, for someone who believes that.”

Maul’s head swivels to face him, the hunt forgotten, and Obi-Wan finds himself pinned by the intensity of his stare. It is impossible to focus on anything but the weight of the Sith’s undivided attention.

Maul opens his mouth to speak-

and the infant begins to wail.

Yo, I figured I'd put this at the bottom rather than the top, but this is the first piece of fanfic I've posted. Like, ever. Anywhere. I guess I'm a writing blog now? It feels weird to make any kind of fuss about it, but just as fucking weird to post it without context.

Anyway, I'm hoping to keep writing this and turn it into a properly fleshed out AU, but just in case the mice in my brain move on to other things, I wanted to put this snippet out in the universe.

[thegamingcatmom]

I keep having this though while reading your posts! They can’t tell MC they're vampires unless they’re gonna turn her right? That’s against the law and we know they care a lot about vampire laws to avoid ending up like Sasha… so what if MC overhears them talking to each other about how they’re the first succubi and about the many people they’ve screwed to death… and instead of assuming they're vampires, MC assumes they're literal succubi! (and Eleazar is an icubus or he and Carmen are other remond types) and then she’d end up assuming that that is why the sisters are being horndogs towards her… because that’s how succubi feed! By screwing people to death! So she might think that the flirtations are the sisters being hungry 🤣 (I also sent the thing about flammable spit)

"Remember that dude you screwed to death?" IS incredibly Kate-coded, so a convo like that seems entirely possible. 💀

Not sure MC would be able to "overhear" it though, since they'd probs be aware of her presence before she even comes within (human) hearing distance. Her heartbeat alone would give her away, I reckon.

Also, Kate being Kate, I imagine she'd want MC to know, and it's not like talking about her past flings will give anything away. Hell, she could talk about ppl she screwed centuries ago, and MC still wouldn't know she's a vampire. As long as nobody drops the V-bomb, it's fair game. 🤷‍♀️

I'd also like to point out that, as clownish as Kate comes across for the most part, she's still a deadly predator. They all are. And, from time to time, she loves to remind MC of that fact, which brings us back to the bragging (bragging and death threats go hand in hand in this household):

Kate: *goes on and on about some dude she screwed back in the day (aka 400 years or so ago)*

MC: *continues to eat her cereal, not even pretending to listen*

Kate: "-so I guess you could say he came and went at the same time. Some accomplishment, if you ask me."

MC: *still chewing, reading the back of the cereal box*

Kate: "..."

MC: *still chewing, still not listening*

Kate: "...And then I punched a hole through his chest."

*chewing sounds stop*

MC: *slowly turns to look at Kate*

Kate: "...Wasn't pretty, lemme tell ya."

MC: *blinks at her*

Kate: "You ever held someone's heart in your hand?"

MC: *blinks at her*

Kate: "It's not as romantic as people make it out to be. Trust me."

MC: *blinks at her*

Kate: "...Don't recommend."

MC: "..."

Kate: "..."

MC: "...What?"

Tanya: *enters the room, immediately suspicious when she sees the look on MC's face*

Tanya: "What’s going on here?"

Kate: "Hm? Oh, I was just telling the little one about the time I made someone burst. And not in the good way."

Tanya: *stares at her*

Kate: *stares back*

Tanya: "...What?"

Kate: "What what?"

Tanya: "What are you telling her?? Why are you telling her??"

Kate, scoffing: "Sorry for entertaining your lap dog."

MC: "You didn't...wait wha-"

Tanya: "You call this entertainment? She'll be suffering nightmares."

MC: "Thank you."

Also MC, realizing she just agreed with the She-Devil: "...I mean-"

Kate, shrugging: "Not my fault you picked a marshmallow."

MC: "Excuse-"

Tanya, flashing MC a dreamy smile: "You are rather squishable."

MC: "..."

Kate: "...Yeah, not what I meant. Anyway, I'm doing your job, sis."

Tanya: "My job?"

Kate: "Sure thing. You don’t think Marshmallow deserves to know there's a real chance she's gonna get squished to the point of no return one day?"

MC: *sneaks an alarmed look at Tanya*

Tanya: "...That's not-"

Kate @ MC: "A sneeze would probably snap you in half-"

Tanya: "Kate!"

MC: 👁️👄👁️

Kate: "What?? It's true-"

Tanya: "It's not."

Tanya @ MC, a lot less vicious: "It's not, love. Don't mind her-"

Kate: "Sure, don't mind the facts-"

Tanya: "Our kind doesn't sneeze. That's a fact."

...

Kate: "...Maybe not, but the chances of her getting snapped in half are still disproportionately high-"

Tanya: "Your idiocy is disproportionately high-"

Kate: "Whoa whoa, no need to get personal. Just trying to prepare her, is all."

Tanya: "Prepare her for what??"

Kate: "..."

Tanya: "..."

MC: 👀

Kate: *slow grin starts spreading*

Kate: "Why...going out with a bang, of course."

...

Tanya: 🤦‍♀️

MC: 💀

Later that day...

MC: *feverishly typing away at her laptop*

MC, mumbling to herself as she's typing: "Humanoid...creatures...that...don't...sneeze..."

*mouse click*

*mouse click*

*mouse click*

*mouse-*

...

MC: "...The hell is a Succubus?"

*mouse click*

*mouse click*

*mouse-*

...

A few moments later...

Carmen & El: *cuddling on the couch*

The door: *is THROWN open*

Carmen & El: *prepare for an assault-*

MC: "CARMEN!"

El: *immediately grabs his notebook*

Carmen: *immediately zooms over to MC's side*

Carmen: "What happened?!"

MC, hyperventilating just a smidge: "SHE'S GONNA EAT ME!"

El: *pauses his mad scribbling when he realizes he already got that one*

Carmen: *gently cradles MC's head in hopes the message will finally get through*

Carmen: "Nobody will eat you, mi amor. We talked about this-"

MC: "BUT SHE DOESN'T SNEEZE!"

Carmen: "..."

El: *thinks for a moment before shrugging and writing it down, better to be safe than sorry and all*

Carmen: "...What do you-"

*crashing sounds in the distance*

Kate, in the distance: "Ow-Hey! What?? What did I-HEY!"

*more crashing sounds*

MC: "...Carmen?"

*more crashing sounds*

Carmen: "...Mi amor?"

*more crashing sounds*

MC: "...Are you and Eleazar sex demons too?"

*crashing sounds stop*

*scribbling sounds stop*

Carmen: "...I-"

El, torn between horror and fascination, but ultimately opts for the latter (as per usual): "Fascinating..."

Kate, in the distance: "HAH! Those two?? Sex demons??"

Also Kate, sticking her head through the door seconds later: "If you want, I can show you a real-"

Also Kate: *aggressively disappears from view again before the crashing sounds resume*

MC & Carmen & El: *blink at the spot where Kate has stood only seconds ago*

...

MC: "...So?"

Carmen & El: 👀

MC: "...Are you?"

Carmen & El: "..."

El: *opens his mouth to respond-*

Carmen: *throws him a look that clearly says I love you, but I'll kill you*

...

El: *wisely shuts his mouth again*

.

.

.

Well, this kinda escalated.

...I really don't know what else to say. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Thanks a lot for your ask! 💋

[pixiedurango]

If you wouldn't mind, I'd appreciate a letter from Illario to Lucanis that is basically him wondering how the hell his awkward cousin managed to attract a hottie like Rook De Riva. (Bonus points for it being my Rook, Adava. I've posted a couple screenshot archives of her.) Thank you very much! This is such a wonderful and fun thing you're doing for the community!

Ding Dong. Another special delivery from the Antivan Postal Service.

We all know Illario is a yapper... this may be the reason why this letter is so crazy long. It's a bit more than just the one requested topic, I hope you don't mind, but I felt, that even Illario would not just kick down the door and starts asking awkward questions about his cousin's love-life. I honestly can't figure, how Lucanis would even answer this letter... Anyway, enjoy!

Transcript:

Cousin, I hope you don’t mind me, bothering you. I know the new First Talon is still saving the world and has probably not the time and even less patience to read from a despicable criminal anyway. Even (or rather because) said criminal is your blood and the closest thing to family you’ll ever have. Beside of course our dear Caterina, who naturally sends her regards (because this way she’s excused to write a letter to you herself. Which of course she would never confirm, and I would NEVER even think. Huh, who wrote that?)

I spend my time doing paperwork for the Diamond recently, since Viago could not be bothered to supervise me all day and night (which I don’t take offensive, I would not want to be my watchdog, either.) Of course no one gives me a contract anymore, maybe there are some with my name on it, but I fear, you’ll find that name in an unfamiliar spot there. No wonder, Viago is paranoid, that something might get out of hand. Which would make him fail his first ever contract from the new First Talon by losing his ward (that would be me).

Not that I wish for this to happen, but then, what is life without the roofs of Treviso in the moonlight, its markets and cafés. The canals and gondolas and the beautiful people in the streets. While I am stuck in the belly of the Diamond. Copying inventory lists.

Anyway, how’s your days? And I mean the parts we don’t get to read in the gazettes or war reports. Allow me to live a little through your new life. I want to know about hat Lighthouse you’re residing in. Living in the Fade is such a weird concept on its own – but being there stuck with a bunch of non-Antivans who are each so different and unique, but you’re still all on the same contract - that sounds like an interesting experience. And they are all so stunningly beautiful and exciting personalities.

Speaking of exciting: Send my kindest regards to that divine but harsh Tevinter detective if you don’t mind, my brother. I’d be very intrigued to get to know other Tevinter people. For a wider perspective, maybe if you want to call it that?

And no, I’m not trying to make a joke here. Or try to push a shady agenda. I just feel that my choices of people from the Imperium was not the… most educated one.

You know what? Never mind, you shouldn’t have to bother with such silly requests and why I feel to ask them from you.

Better we hold onto our words about the things past until we can exchange them in person.

But, you are aware that I simply could have made up a story to make you introduce me to her, right? Or, even better, I just could have written to your Tevinter friend right away, instead of asking you to give my regards…

Speaking of friends. Must be all new and awkward for you, cousin. I can’t remember you having any close acquaintances ever, at all, when we grew up. I would never have thought, you’d have that in you.

Of course now, this all new YOU will not have any more use for your poor cousin - who’s fallen from grace, to do all the nasty ice breaking and socializing for you. And we were such a successful double like that.

Remember that wigmaker job? Vyranthium, I guess. It got you your, moniker, right? Demon of Vyranthium. Just like a creepy foreshadowing, don’t you think? Anyway, what was I talking about? Ah!

You did all the bloody work back then, I happily give you that, but without me? Way more complicated it would have been, I dare say. And even more dangerous as it was already.

Cousin, just think about it. We could rule Antiva together. Or just retire and be the rulers of our own court, whereever that may be - and do what ever we please.

Or did you eventually make peace with being the one in charge? First Talon! So much responsibility. And so large boots to fill.

May Caterina continue to live and rule on for many many more years to come. So you don’t have to step up entirely. Letting her continue to draw strings in the shadows, while you being the representative and handsome young face of the Antivan Crows. That was a clever move from the old girl. Or was it yours? Either way. She could have all that with less drama and an even prettier face, far more willing, to put up with her and her attics. But, well, here we are.

Sorry, I fell back into ramblings about things again, that should be topic for us talking in person. Forgive me. How did I get there in the first place… I have no idea. Maybe this gives you a hint, of just HOW boring the paperwork is, I get to do here. I start yapping. In a letter.

Before I end this pointless lament, cousin, brother! I want to congratulate you. Honestly. Of course, only if it's true, what’s going round within the Diamond and probably the salons of Treviso’s nobility, too. That the new First Talon, known to be the chastest of all Crows, finally decided to seriously court someone. And not only that. It’s even reciprocated this time, as we hear.

A strategic bond with the House of the 5th Talon? I hear that not few people are taking it this way.

But I know you better, cousin. You’d never engage into such an endeavor, when it’s not playing out like in your silly romance novels. (Yes, of course I know what you always hid between your textbooks and under the mattress. Kitsch!) But well, to each their own, I guess. You the books and me the real experience. But you seem to finally getting there, as it seems. Tell me everything, brother! I’ve witnessed you yapping about coffee and kisses goodbye and smarmy stuff like that. You were really into that de Riva girl, right from the start. There goes my last hope, that Adava had, or would ever discover, a soft spot for me behind her wall of professionalism and all business. Just joking, of course, I’m happy for you both. I mean it.

Just don’t let your heart and your… midsection get into the way of a contract. Which in your case would very much unfortunate for all of Thedas. But who am I to give you advice of matters of the heart… (or the midsection) My latest choices weren’t the smartest, either.

Before I end up filling a journal here, I’ll end now. If you want, write me back, I really want to hear about your life and could use any distraction. We’re family, after all. - Illario

Find the other letters here

[bellaxgiornata]

Ask the boys! What are Mikey and/or Matt's favourite comforting ways to decompress (with reader)?

Ohhhh, thank you for this one!! I had to sit them down for this little dialogue! As always, I'll throw everything under the cut because this'll be longer. But please enjoy this gif depicting Matt's enthusiasm levels today at me being distracted from a particular fic update he wants.

Bella, dramatically shouting: So who's ready to play ASK THE BOYS?!

Mikey, cringing a little on the couch: D'ya really need to say it like that, pet?

Matt, raising a brow: Yeah, we're not exactly on an episode of Family Feud. This isn't a game show.

Bella: No, but could you imagine if you were? Maybe Fog could be the fourth player. And you know what? I'd actually pay good money to see that because it'd be hilarious. But now that you say that, I think I want to play Ask the Boys like it is a game show every time someone asks for it. So thank's for that, Matty!

[Matt dramatically sighs loudly on the couch beside Mikey]

Frank, shouting from the kitchen as he makes coffee: Can you just let the lady have some fun? Play along, dammit. Don't you know better than to argue with a pregnant woman, anyway?

Mikey, settling into the couch: He has a point. Best not to argue.

Matt, reluctantly: Fine. What's the question?

Bella: Okay, since you're being a sourpuss I'm asking Mikey first. What's your favorite comforting way to decompress with Reader/a significant other?

Mikey, scratching his beard in thought: Suppose I'd say...somethin' calming. Like takin' a walk, just holdin' hands and enjoyin' each others' company. Or maybe cuddlin' up in bed or on the sofa with a book and just readin' together, not even sayin' a word. I deal with enough excitement with my family, don't exactly need anymore outside o' that, y'know? I'd rather just...slow things down for a bit together. Be able to hold them and just be with them.

Bella: Ohh, I like that. You definitely do need less stress and a slower paced environment with some of the stuff your family puts you through constantly. Or like...an entire change of scenery that isn't Dublin.

Mikey, humming in agreement: Ya can say that again.

Bella, focusing on Matt: Now Matt, same question.

Matt, growing a sheepish smile: I'd have to say...in my bed with both of us not wearing clothing--[quickly holding up a hand to quiet everyone before they interject] solely because it's far too irritating if I'm trying to decompress and relax with too much outside stimulation, not for any other reasons. I'd rather just feel them over anything else. Because I'd prefer to focus in on their heartbeat and their breathing, listening to the sound of their voice as they talked. Sometimes outside stimulation just gets to be too much with my senses, and that's where I'd feel the most comfortable with a partner while trying to decompress. Somewhere without some of that extra stimulation. And uh...I wouldn't mind being the one who was being cuddled instead of doing the cuddling, I guess, too...

Bella, nodding: Makes sense. I think we're all well aware of how touch starved you tend to be--especially for a touch that isn't someone punching you in the face for once. Obviously for you to decompress with a partner, you'd want them doing the comforting. Though I highly doubt you'd ever just, you know, ask for what you wanted, so you'd need a partner that already could intuit that. But you know, there's nothing wrong with asking for what you need, Matt.

Matt, abruptly rising from the couch: Okay, I wasn't expecting this to turn into a therapy session. Are we done now?

Bella, rolling her eyes: If it was a therapy session with all of you, we'd be here for months. But yes, that does answer the question for this round of Ask the Boys!

Matt, grinning: Great, now maybe you can get back to that thing you're almost finished writing for me. You know the one.

Bella, sighing: Fine, fine. I'll let you three get back to pre-baby panicking in here for now while I finish it.

(Bella's Follower Celebration Post for those who want to join in the fun!)

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not letting someone stream a movie in a server?

So I (27M) moderate a server for fans of a video game who wanna RP together. It's not small but I'd call it cozy, and there are several mods and it's understood things have to stay like... Pg-13/T. We don't mind if you say fuck but we're also in a fandom that appeals to minors.

There are minors in the server. Minors are welcome to join the server.

This is simply context for what follows.

A member (32F) joins the server, and broke a rule here or there, and I am the mod that was most active so I was the one that usually corrected her. It was nothing personal, she just broke minor rules and needed to be corrected, or asked for something the mod team disagreed with, and I answered the question.

One day, this member comes in and announces she will be streaming a movie in the server soon for anyone that wants to join. Specifically she's going to stream Everything, Everywhere, All at Once.

So, on one hand, this might be our bad. We didn't really have streaming rules? Because no one really streamed. Ever. Server's years old and it's only ever been a few art streams.

So the mods quickly huddle up and make up rules about what we do and don't allow to be streamed, and all agree that streaming R rated movies in a server with kids under 18 is a bad idea.

I let her know we have to ask she doesn't stream this movie in here, and announce to the server our new streaming rules. (Which are "no streaming games above T, no movies about PG-13. If you think it's fine anyway, please ask us for permission first instead. If you want to watch something someone is streaming but might be triggered, please ask either the person streaming or consult 'Does the Dog Die'")

She immediately write a several paragraph response informing me that I'm the reason they're leaving the server, that she's tried to extend the olive branch to me several times but every time I've been condescending and rude. But she was having a bad day and wanted to stream this beautiful movie and share it with people but because of me she can't so she's leaving.

I legitimately don't know what events she's even talking about? I try to sound professional, which I guess could make me sound aloof but I also run all my responses past the other mods??? Who all okayed them? None of this happened in DMs, it's not like I could've been hiding it from them or gone rogue to do this, the other mods were aware of any rebukes given to this person, and I honestly don't know what olive branches she thinks she offered. Unless she means that time she asked us if she could be made a mod?

I'm just baffled, and a bit worried because I try to be fair to all members in the group and honestly, we just didn't want a movie with like, rather explicit stuff shown in our server? Where minors might see it? But I guess I really hurt her feelings and made her feel like she had to leave, AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[onestepbackwards]

Imagine how different the Sinnoh storyline would be if self aware Cyllene, Kamado, Volo and Cogita kept a journal and it was passed down until their descendents have it. I'd imagine Cyrus reading about cyllene's life and starts looking for the player rather than go through the extra steps of finding the lake trio, getting the red chain and summoning gods on a random mountain to make a wish. I can't imagine what Rowan would think of kamado's paranoid rantings about the main character and us (although i spent hours just feeding random wildlife).

Hdksjdkd imagine if like, some of them had pictures of the Hero saved and kept in those journals too. How the Hero fell from the sky, and claimed to be from a future where pokemon and humans work and live together.

How they talk about things, such a ‘tee-vees’, or ‘microwaves’.

Rowan finds the book when digging through some old stuff in his attic. He ends up flipping through it, and catching a picture that falls out of someone.

After some investigation, Rowan declares his ancestor must have been hit in the head to be obsessed with someone and so paranoid. Though he does pity the man for losing his village as a kid, he wonders if that event caused too much stress for the man.

He does find some ideas interesting though, and decides to look into Sinnoh’s history later.

Imagine his surprise when he later sees someone who looks like a carbon copy of the person in the journals, and how well they use a starter pokemon.

Rowan decides then and there is fate is real, he will do what he can and give this person a pokemon. Especially since they seem to get along so well with the partner they choose. They’ll definitely need the experience…

Meanwhile, in an alternate timeline, Cyrus finds the well kept journal of his ancestor Cyllene when collecting things from his family’s old home that was left behind after a move.

As much as he dislikes the memories, he remembered a few journals he saw as a kid he wanted to find. Thankfully, they were left behind as junk in the attic.

He flips through them, curious if he remembered correctly how bizarre they were. Stories of people falling from the sky, and time travel, to literal pokemon gods.

At first, it sounds like crazy talk. If it wasnt for the clear cur way his ancestor wrote her journal, he’d have waved it off.

Until things such as planes and cars are mentioned. Some of those things specifically not having existed yet in that period of time. His interest is piqued.

Were they not ramblings of someone who lost their mind to stress after all?

Cyrus then comes across photos delicately sewn into the pages to help preserve them. His ancestor sitting with someone.

That would seem normal, though his eyes widen just a fraction when he sees several legendary pokemon behind them in some photos, like they are having a picnic of some sort with a few other people.

The same person besides Cyllene pops up though, labeled with a name, how they are from the future.

Cyrus then takes note how this Hero mentions how they battled someone named Cynthia. A name he is well familiar with.

Packing the journal into a case he brought with him, he decides then and there to change the course of action.

He would hold off on finding Giratina. That would be a plan he’s keep on a back burning if things didn’t work out.

Instead, he decides to search for you.

[eva-does-its-best]

Transition (Part 2) Women

I don't have any problem admitting that the word Woman hurts me deeply, and I don't want to have anything to do with it.

To me Woman just evokes the adult world that time and time again rejects me because of my disabilities and my oddness. It evokes all the terfs, all the discourse thrown from all sides of this war, the mocking laughs that celebrate all our pain with pearly white teeth. It provokes my mind to remember all the radfem ideology and iconography that hurt us so deeply.

It evokes the otherness I felt with other women, both cis and trans. I did not belong in that word.

I never felt any form of meaningful connection to other trans women, just the fun of finding someone like me. I do remember mourning that I would never be or look cis, just like so many of you do, but I lost that through transition.

Every day I noticed more and more differences between me and other trans women, I knew our differences were big but the rift kept expanding more and more until I had to ask myself why, was I just wrong? was I doing it wrong?

I will say, trans men are to thank for my self-discovery, and I hope that burns the eyes and hands of all radfems trans and cis. There was a time where I started to talk to and follow more trans men, and I started having more and more feelings for them and crushes for them and their lives.

And so I imagined what it would be like being a trans man, it sounded so wonderful! And that is when I realized, being born a cis woman would not have made me happy, because if it did why did I imagine myself transitioning too in that world? Why did I imagine the joy of a short haircut, of my first binder, of starting T or getting top surgery? I had to rethink my whole identity.

Right, my identity, what did I want to transition into? Nothing. I just wanted to transition, I wanted to change, I wanted to do as I please with this body I ignored and loathed for so long, I wanted to be happy, transition IS my joy! I transition to trans, not to any form of cis. And a lot of binary trans women didn't like this, and the rift grew even more.

I'd rather be seen as a woman than a man, but I'd rather not be seen as anything at all. Not be assigned any gender at all. Just an ambiguous person, a trans, simply a trans.

I had finally found myself outside of the binary.

When people push me to go back to being a woman, I feel like I'm hanging from a chasm with blades pointed at me yelling at me to let go, to fall back into womanhood. Sometimes I feel weak and think about going back, about letting go and fall, but I cut those feelings off immediately, my life and transition had already been ruined by commodity, I would never fall for its sweet embrace again.

It's hard, but I am non-binary.

I still like girly things, I still have so much euphoria from clothes and dresses and looking feminine. But I reject the purple of womanhood and keep all my femininity and masculinity on the cozy pink of girlhood. These are my terms.

I am aware that partially I am using hrt recreationally, I don't find this negative. The changes it does to me every day do save my life, they do make me beyond happy, but that doesn't stop me from wanting more. Cis lvls of hormones are a small goal, I'd rather have more than the minimum.

If more estrogen makes me happier I will take it. If progesterone makes me happier I will take it. If doing injections instead of pills makes me feel more cathartic and marginalized, in tune with our recent history, I will do it. If DIY feels better I will give up the medical monitoring of my health. Call me an hrt junkie if you want, it does not bother me.

But it is one more aspect of my transition that some other trans women have been offended by.

In any case, I am not going back to being a woman, tho I do not have any resentment for that era of me.

And I am glad I did manage to retain my girlhood.

[egg-emperor]

As fun and cathartic it can be to be a hater about parts of official media you don't like at times, like a few of the noncanon adaptions in mine and few other's cases, I feel like some people are kinda starting to lose sight of what it means to be a Sonic fan in the process. I know I probably don't sound much different from concern trolls but I am kinda concerned tbh because it can't be a nice feeling and experience for them and I think they'd be happier if they were just aware

Because it's almost like they're kinda making being a fan only this miserable and frustrating thing that consists of constantly being angry and bitter towards the things they don't like and losing sight of the things they do. To the point all their discussion mostly consists of complaining about what they don't like and feeling this sense of doom about the series as a whole. And spending more time entertaining angry people and trolls that want a reaction and love to get more things out of you to bitch about and if you continue to feed them directly, they especially definitely won't let up, since they also do it when you aren't talking to them

It's never your fault in the first place for having an opinion and expressing it freely and someone coming along and being an asshole about it but it doesn't help if you are directly engaging with them on top of that. Speaking from experience as I've faced TONS of long winding harassment, it stops once I stop replying and never reply again when they keep trying. It's not even that you can't ever say anything at all, it's just knowing when to leave it at that and walk away. You can say what you want once and decide you're not going to give them any more time after

And Idk, if your most consistent feelings about the series are overwhelmingly negative these days and you don't have feel that passion for discussion of it unless it's in complaining about what you don't like, or you mostly can't find things you do still like about pretty much any area of the series, I wonder if it's worth it to still be a fan any more or at least exist in the fandom as one in any capacity. Simply speaking from what I'd do in that situation rather than trying to demand it of others, but I can't fathom wanting to still make only negative posts and arguing and getting mountains of hate, thus only increasing your bitterness and stress. And even ending up fighting with or resenting people you befriended or were aquainted with when they like something you don't too

And I hate to say it but at a certain point, is it really much different from those we once criticized for hating every game out of bias and what they've been told by others instead of playing the games they were hating on? And how they can't praise what they do like more than they can put down what they don't like when they say an adaption is better than canon thing that apparently sucks so bad? Have I stopped experiencing any new joy from this series to the point maybe it's time to withdraw from both the things I like and don't like about it and not give it my energy anymore? This is what I would ask myself to come to the decision on whether it's worth it anymore. But I don't feel that way because my love and passion for the series prevails and is still actively fueled

I'm not saying you aren't entitled to your feelings and opinions and trying to force you to feel and think a certain way. Of course I love to analyze and relay facts about the games and I'm very happy if it does give someone a new perspective and it's always nice to find more people who agree and relate and that unity but I'm not trying to force it. It's moreso a matter of whether your hatred and bitterness is consuming you and stealing your focus and energy over talking about the things you do like. Perhaps there isn't anything left you still like at that point but if there isn't, it's best to just step back from what you don't like too for true piece of mind rather than still getting worked up about what you don't like if you hardly ever have those times of gushing passionately anymore and the spark is gone

And I'm all for people criticizing and ranting about what they don't like, I've had more than my fair share. I did cut back on it significantly in public spaces because it genuinely benefitted me and my mental health and made my blog more positive and enjoyable for people which is my preferred experience. But I know people who have plenty to still criticize and want about publicly and haven't cut down at all like me but still have tons of passion and positive feelings to talk about just as much. That way you can tell that the former comes from a place of passion too, because they still actively love the series. So I don't feel sad or concerned seeing their complaints, it makes sense

But when it comes to hardly liking anything about the series source at all anymore after once doing so and putting most time and energy into ranting, complaining, arguing, and feeding trolls, it kind of just seems like it only comes from a place of hatred and bitterness and being consumed by it rather than passion as it seems to be the only thing that actively fuels them still. Not to say it didn't start with that for them too but like they've sort of lost sight along the way and it is kinda sad to see because I want them to be happy. Not out of forcing them to like the series but knowing when it's maybe time to step back

And maybe this will come off the wrong way so I want to clarify again that I'm not trying to tell people what to say and do on their own blogs or how to think or feel but these are my genuine thoughts and feelings as a spectator but you certainly don't have to bend to my will. Of course I can curate my experience to block out what I don't want to see and I do, but there many times it still shows up on my dash from people I unfollowed and sometimes you get so many filtered posts on your dash you click a little to see what's going on yknow

Anyway that's all I wanted to say on this and have been wanting to for a while but I was very wary of how it might be taken the wrong way but I feel I need to take that risk more often because I know my true intentions in it and how it really does only come from a place of concern and care