#and of course it seems to be fantasy that if i explain things just right to my sibling. that maybe they would understand

[itshomobirb]

there exists not a universe where i could talk my parents into actually caring for me. because if it was possible, i wouldve fucking done it by now. and i know there's an inherent grief in thinking about how your parents aren't actually perfect, but c'mon. one of my siblings goes "i talked with dad and convinced him to compromise (on attempting to kill ur cat just to prove u wrong). think you should talk to dad, it would be very helpful ^_^" and then my dad comes up to me five minutes later and says "borb it's like you don't even love us." shaking my sibling by the shoulders like don't you understand? there isnt a cheat code, a perfect set of words that will make our parents actually love me. there isn't a way to make them care. it's complete fantasy, to think that if i just sit them down and explain well enough, that it'll magically fix them and turn them into the ideal parents, or hell, even good enough parents. that's not who they are or who they've ever been.

[paddedlittleparadise]

TW: forced regression, bodily waste, diaper use, non-con

Note that in this fantasy scenario, all individuals are adults over the age of 18!

–––

Why the crotch strap?

Oh, sweetie, it's really not that hard to understand! But I see the fear in your eyes – the fear that fogs your mind and clogs your rational faculties. Mommy gets it. Mommy knows how scary it is to see your new little brother getting broken in. Don't worry. Mommy will explain everything to you.

Never mind his moans. Never mind his squirming. Mommy put him in that straitjacket for a reason. He's safe now: safe from himself, from his silly attempts to escape, from everything that might disturb the process. See? He can tug and moan and writhe – like an adorable, pathetic little worm – but he's not going anywhere. Not so long as those straps are holding him tight in Mommy's inescapable hug.

The crotch strap, hmm? Aww, just look at it. It's so… wide, isn't it? Wide and strong, with stout buckles keeping it in place. It fits so well over your little brother's diaper, too. And with those pretty blue stripes running parallel with it… aww, it's genuinely beautiful!

It seems so tight? Are you sure about that, sweetie? Go on. Reach out and touch it. Run your trembling fingers over the plastic, the canvas, the lovely strong stitching… down to that cold steel buckle. Slip your fingers underneath, now. See? It's not quite so tight as you thought!

And why is that, sweetie? Why ever would Mommy leave that nice strong crotch strap loose, hmm?

Oh, I see your questioning eyes, blinking up fearfully. You don't know, do you? But don't worry. Mommy said she'd explain.

It's for a very good reason, sweetie. See, listen to your little brother, gulping and fighting in his bonds. He's struggling against himself now: against the lovely load of milk and juice Mommy pumped into him just now. Against the muscle relaxants that slowly are making it harder and harder for him to resist. Against the lovely, large fleet enema Mommy squirted deep into his bum… and that's already got him burning and aching to release.

That crotch strap is ready.

Because it will happen, sweetie. There's no way anyone can win such a fight. He'll lose: little by little, more and more, until at last he's lying there, shuddering as his bladder and bowels empty themselves over and over into his diaper. And with every addition, that diaper of his will swell: silently mushrooming out, straining against that strap, seeking for anywhere to expand and grow. With nowhere to go, sweetie… you know where it will expand, don't you?

Inward, of course. All around his cute little pee-pee. Tighter and closer, wet and mushy and ever so warm. That strap is there to tease him, to torment him, to force his mind to accept the truth: that he's Mommy's baby now, actively peeing and pooping his pants with no way to control himself. Sure, he'll keep writhing and wriggling like the stubborn fellow he is. But with every movement, that strap will tug. His pee-pee will sense it. And oh, you know what happens when little boys feel warm, wet, tight things around their pee-pees, don't you?

That's the second reason, sweetie. That crotch strap is there to tease him into arousal. Oh, he won't want to, of course. What self-respecting fellow wants to get hard from feeling his own pee and poo around him? But thanks to Mommy's crotch strap and his own submissive cravings, he will. He'll try to resist, of course – to struggle against his own dirty impulses. But with every movement, every motion, he'll feel his trapped little cock swelling, stiffening, aching… and being forced, deeper and tighter and more surely than ever, back down into the messy, squishy mass of his own soiled diaper. Still he'll fight it, and still he'll grow harder and harder… until at last, he'll be moaning and cumming, right into the humiliating mess of his smelly diaper.

That's why Mommy has the crotch strap, sweetie. Not to restrain his body, oh no. It's to destroy his pride, his sense of self… and in the end, his old erotic programming.

Aww, are you crying, sweetie? Whatever for? Are you trying to tell Mommy that you want a crotch strap, too?

She could arrange that, you know!

Image Credit: Baby-Doll.com

Be sure to check out my Ream Stories if you want to read more of my naughty fiction!

[nereidprinc3ss]

andromeda | (dybmn? bonus)

a bonus vignette from spencer's POV. we find out how he really feels about reader. takes place the day before the argument at the bar.

note: this is not part six! takes place between parts four and five.

series masterlist

18+ warnings/tags: fem!reader, semi-graphic descriptions of sexual fantasies, some angst, you're not actually present, mention of alcohol, very vague discussions of murdery stuff bc he's supposed to be working, sassy spencer makes an appearance a/n: for all my angels who said they wanted a snippet of spencer's POV! i'm sorry if i'm overdoing it with this story or clogging the spencer tags, i'm just having a lot of fun! i hope you enjoy or that this may be clears some things up for you, pls lmk your thoughts:) ily!!!

Spencer is incessantly drumming the particle board table underneath his fingers.

The polymer veneer is one of his least favorite textures—he hates the grain of it and if he were to accidentally scratch the table with his nails he knows it would make the hair on the back of his neck stand up. 

But of all the things he’s worried about, that ranks very low on the list. 

He’s got a lot of mental tabs open all the time—and the tabs, he can deal with. It’s when he starts trying to operate with multiple windows that he begins to struggle. His brain, while it is a very fine tuned sort of computer, only has one monitor. Unfortunately, no human (except for the ones who’ve had their brain hemispheres surgically split) is immune to the inevitable pitfalls of multitasking. By dividing his mental energy between you and his job, he’s really fucking up his job. But he also thinks he really fucked up with you on that phone call the other night and for being as logical as he is he can’t seem to make that feel unimportant—even though he’s disgusted with himself for it because there are literally people dying. 

Someone knocks on the open conference room door—he looks up, skimming his lips over his fist. 

“What’s up?” he says too quickly upon seeing Emily’s mildly concerned face peering in on him. 

Her mouth bridges into a sort of nonchalant frown and her brows kick up. 

“Just… checking in. Haven’t heard from you all morning.”

“Yeah, the, uh—the geo-profile. I’m still… I’m still working it out.”

It’s not like he’s ever been phenomenal with his syntax in a social sense, but Spencer is certainly aware he’s doing even worse than usual right now. 

“Okay. Uh… is there anything in particular stumping you, or…?”

“Nope. Just not enough information. But I’m—I’m going to keep trying.”

“Alright. Got your phone handy?”

It’s an odd question—of course he has his phone handy. He’s been doing this job longer than Emily has. How else would he communicate with the rest of the team? He bristles. 

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”

Emily shakes her head. She’s always been particularly good at reading his moods.

“You’re not under attack, Reid. I was just asking.”

Just as he’s about to say, why would you assume I’m not prepared for my job, he manages to swerve away and stifle the words with his fist. Instead he looks back down at his copy of the map and nods. In reality, he truly isn’t prepared for his job today. The reason he has his phone so close, fully charged and at top volume is because he’s worried he’ll miss a call from you. 

Emily says something else, and he hums in response, and then she’s gone. 

He shouldn’t be reading into your reticence this much. It’s not like you just sit by the phone all day, eagerly awaiting a call or text from him (like he does you). You have a life. You’re busy. And even if you are intentionally dodging his texts, he can’t entirely fault you for it. Spencer knows he’s clingy. He knows he’s overbearing. It’s part of why he panicked the other night and told you the whole humiliating story about Elle. Because he can’t ever just be cool and he felt the need to explain himself. 

But the problem was, and is, that he doesn’t know how much longer he can go without saying those three words that fucked him over all those years ago.

So he’d danced around them. Applied them to someone else to try and avoid outright professing his all-consuming love for you over the phone. However you feel, Spencer has to assume he feels more. Spencer always has to assume he feels more because he usually does and it’s gotten him into trouble before. And now he’s pretty sure he was exactly right, as often is the case, because you didn’t tell him he was mistaken and you’d clammed up and you haven’t talked to him since and he’s not supposed to be reading into it this much. 

Three victims killed and dumped within a 6 mile radius of the first victim plus one victim killed and dumped 23.8 miles away. That doesn’t make any fucking sense. Fuck this guy. 

Spencer decides the problem is that he needs more caffeine. 

Or possibly, if he were a different kind of man—copious amounts of alcohol. 

So he stows his phone in a pocket and asks the first person he sees where the coffee machine is. 

“Looks like you found it earlier,” the woman says, glancing pointedly down at his mostly empty mug. A playful smirk tugs at pinkish-brownish lips. She’s pretty, he realizes distantly. But he registers it the same way he’d take note of the model of a car, or the species of a bird, or the kind of shoes someone is wearing. It doesn’t actually interest him. It’s just part of processing his environment. “I can show you to it?”

He doesn’t have the heart or energy to explain that someone else brought him his cup earlier and he’s not flirting with her. 

“If you could just point me in the right direction…?”

She laughs, short and dry, before she’s pointing down a hall. 

“Kitchenette down there and to the left.”

“Thanks,” he mutters, already walking away without sparing her a second glance. 

She’s the kind of woman he would have paid a lot more attention to before you came along. Not that he’d ever sleep with someone on the job (not since he was 25, anyway), but if he’d met her under any other circumstances he probably would have cared more about the way her pupils dilated and her eyes had widened slightly and she’d adjusted her posture and all the other small things people do when they’re attracted to someone else. 30 year old Spencer might have slept with her. 27 year old Spencer definitely would have slept with her. Current Spencer obsessively pines for a woman who is already his girlfriend and whom he has yet to sleep with at all far too much to think about other women like that. 

But god, does he think about you like that. 

His feet carry him down the dim, carpeted hallway but really it took barely a nudge and he’s thinking about you like that. At work. As he’s pouring himself coffee. 

Spencer is confident in the fact that if anyone were to look at him right now, they’d never guess he’s running clips of you in his mind like a dirty supercut. Because he’s just pouring coffee. That’s one good thing about having all those tabs open all the time. He can toggle between them quickly. He has enough going on in the background that people look at him and all they can tell is that he’s thinking hard about lots of things. Some of them just happen to be the way you look when you’re naked on his bed, skin shining and glazed eyes sleepy, parted lips higher in color than usual and catching your breath. Some of them happen to be your hair brushing his stomach before he gathers it back for you. Some of them happen to be the way your thighs feel on either side of his face, or how you stretch around his fingers, or how you might feel when you stretch around his—

He hisses as hot coffee overflows from the mug and burns his hand. 

Maybe he’s not as calm and collected as he thought. 

But on top of all the other things he’s dealing with, having been so close to actually sleeping with you the other night is really fucking with his head. Even if he tells himself he wouldn't have done it, he knows himself better than that. He's too familiar with the effect you have on his judgement.

“Found it okay?” 

Spencer looks down, surprised to see the woman from earlier sitting at her desk and watching him as he quickly passes by on his way back to the conference room. Her legs are crossed. She’s wearing a pencil skirt and a flouncy sort of blouse which seems impractical for working in an FBI field office. Maybe she notices his eye catching on her figure and misguidedly swivels her chair to give him a better look. But all he’s noticing is that it doesn’t look like yours. Now he’s picturing the curve of your hip dripping in silk after that first night at Rossi’s. How your waist and your stomach feel when he slides his hands over you. This woman—she might as well not even be here for all he’s actually seeing her. 

“Yeah. Thanks again.”

Then he’s gone. Very briefly he acknowledges that he should feel sorry for so obviously brushing her off, but he doesn’t care even close to enough. He sets the coffee down on the table and rounds to the board where one of several maps is taped. On autopilot he draws lines between dump sites because one of the background tabs had deduced, while he was busy watching you like porn, that the distance between dump sites form the beginnings of the constellation Orion with some mathematical precision that’s too exacting to be coincidental. Orion’s Belt plus the most recent victim. Betelgeuse. 

There are ten formally named stars that make up Orion. He marks all of them, but circles the transposed coordinates of Bellatrix, Saiph, Rigel and Meissa as the next most likely dump sites. Most probably it will be Orion’s head. They’re all in wooded areas. He calls Garcia. Garcia will call Emily, wherever she is. If the unsub sticks to pattern, which they always do, they have until midnight. It’s trite, really. Predictable, like people always are. Far too quickly he drinks half the cup of scalding coffee and retraces his steps through the office to find the bathroom. 

It’s empty. The fluorescent lights hum. Spencer washes his hands with cold water and presses still wet fingers to his eyes. You’re waiting for him behind the black of his lids.

At first you would whine, and he would kiss you and you’d moan into his mouth and say his name when he opened you up as far as you would go. The air would be thick and warm with sex and vanilla perfume. Afterwards he’d take care of you and buy new sheets for his bed in your favorite color even if they didn’t match the walls and there would be nothing you’d want for that he couldn’t give to you ever again. 

But. 

That’s all contingent. 

No matter how often he fantasizes about it, no matter in how much detail, and regardless of how often those details change wildly, one thing always stays the same. 

The shape of your lips, swollen from kissing, bending around five or six vowels and only two consonants (it seems odd that there are only two consonants in I love you), sometimes before you start, sometimes in the middle or right at the peak—but always there, always moving in slow motion—and always silent.

In real life, they’d be aloud. It’s why his fantasies aren’t good enough. It’s why he can’t stop fantasizing about it. That’s the only part that really matters to him. The rest varies. 

Not because having sex with you doesn’t matter—it matters so much he almost shatters his molars whenever he starts picturing it around other people. But because Spencer can’t have sex with you until you love him. 

And he worries that you can’t love him until you have sex with him. 

The last time he thought that about a person, it didn’t turn out well.

Maybe there is some magic number. Some amount of times you need to have sex with someone before they’ll love you back. 

If there is, he knows for a fact it’s more than 32.

And he also knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he cannot have loveless sex with you thirty three times while he waits to find out. 

Not again. 

But he's going to hold out as long as he possibly can until you say it because he so badly wants you to love him back. He'll let the weight of every ignored text, every reminder that you don't feel that way about him, hang from his shoulders until he collapses. And then he'll probably try to get back up.

Recycled paper towels scratch against his skin. He dries his face and hands and throws them crumpled into the trash can. 

Outside the restroom, he pulls out his phone. For safety reasons and paranoia disguised as professionalism, you’re not his lock screen. It’s a photo of the Andromeda Galaxy. Whatever distance lies between you and Spencer, it could always be greater. No matter where you are in the world, you will always be the same 2.537 million light years away from Andromeda that he is. 

It makes Orion feel much closer. You, too. 

He sends you a text—the third message in a row. 

The distance between blue bubbles feels like light years. 

I’ll be home tomorrow. I miss you. 

[de4dlyniightshade]

LITTLE BLURB ON SPENCER WAKING UP WITH THAT PAINFULLY HARD MORNING WOOD PLS PLS??

That one hc where you explained bro would rut his hips into the air, the tip of his cock rubbing against the material of his underwear making him whimper, GOD I NEED A BLURB FOR THAT PLS MAMA🙏

꩜ PAIRING: spencer reid x afab!reader

꩜ RATING: +18, mdni

꩜ WARNINGS/CONTAINS!: smut, male masturbation(kinda), morning wood, cumming in pants, that's abt it.

© to de4dlyniightshade. no translations/reposts.

[WARNING!] - explicit sexual content! mdni!

spencer hated a lot of things about being away from you on cases, there was the fact he couldn't ramble to you about anything and had to be professional all the time, also that he couldn't just be in your company of course. he couldn't touch you, kiss you, hug you, hold your hand, nothing, but worst of all he hated waking up without you.

you had fell into a pretty unconventional morning routine with spencer after you realised that every morning without fail he was hard, it was never because of anything specific or because he had a dream about you, he just always woke up hard, even before you met him. so it quickly became a routine that he would wake up before you, patiently wait for you to wake up, kiss you and then you'd help him out a little, it was truly a dream for any man and he loved it but the only downside was when you weren't there, like now.

spencer had been on a case for not even a week and he was struggling, every single morning he was aching in his pants and his own hand just wasn't the same, he was grouchy to say the least, so much so that even derek noticed, spencer having been a little snarky with him.

this day was the worst by far though. the rest had been bad but bearable, the odd day being easy enough to just let his dick chill out on its own but not today, today spencer woke up lined in sweat, his hair sticking to his forehead and the back of his neck, his shirt clinging to him, throat dry and his cock painfully hard in his pants.

spencer knew you can't control your dreams but god he wished he could so he didn't have to wake up from an unattainable fantasy of your mouth wrapped around his cock. usually he didn't have too many raunchy dreams about you, it was almost as if his brain knew you were there and he didn't need dreams to imagine you like that but in the same way it's like his brain knew you weren't there right now.

he couldn't help but let out a whine at the feeling of his length straining against his clothes and also at the realisation that this one was not going away on its own and he had to have a very desperate, very lacklustre jerk off in a hotel room alone, it truly was not his proudest moment.

still delirious and full of sleep he opted for letting his hips roll upward for some friction, his tip brushing the material of his pyjamas making him gasp slightly, the usually soft material feeling so rough against his sensitive cock.

shamefully, he couldn't help but do it again, rutting his hips into nothing just for a little stimulation on his aching length, a pathetic whimper slipping past his lips as he repeated the motion, and then again, and again until he was practically fucking the inside of his clothes.

it was pathetic and he knew it but he just couldn't stop himself, the thought of having to actually jerk off just seemed like so much effort and why would he when this felt so good?

what he didn't realise is that it felt a little too good but he was so caught up in the pleasure and sleepy daze that before he knew it he was choking out a whimper as he spilled into his pants, warm spurts of cum soiling his pyjamas and coating his skin as he continued to whimper and gently rut his hips.

when he finally came down from his high he couldn't help but sigh at himself, he truly felt pathetic, he had just desperately humped nothing until he came in his pants, definitely not his proudest moment but also a moment of clarity that he was not made for being separated from you.

[shy-writer-999]

Summary: You’ve got to go, but Zoro doesn’t seem to care. ~650 words. This is, all things considered, a very tame take on the watersports kink imho! Enjoy~ (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

CW: Afab reader, watersports (piss), P in V.

WARNING: MINORS DNI. NSFW CONTENT.

“Wait, Zoro, seriously, I have to go.”

You straddled Zoro and you were both sitting up. Your legs were wrapped around him and your bare chests pressed together. You were complaining but you weren’t doing anything about it.

He was holding onto your hips with a vice grip, fucking you so deep you were worried you’d piss on him if he fucked you any harder. You told Zoro that you needed to go to the bathroom right before you started having sex. You figured it would be a quickie and that you’d be able to run off to the bathroom after you were done, but he just wasn’t listening to you… and that was 30 minutes ago.

Your initial reaction to Zoro’s watersports kink had been one of abhorrence, but he explained why it turned him on so much and you had pondered on it. You later told him you’d be down for it (if he did all the cleanup, of course), but you didn’t expect it to be today.

“Zoro, please. I have to go.”

“Not yet, baby. Just a little bit more. Feels too good to pull out right now.” He rasped in your ear, and it sent goosebumps down your spine. His rough hands and toned arms pulled you off his cock and sunk you back down on it. He was pressing you down rougher than he knew he should, but it just felt so good. He was hoping you’d let him live out the watersports fantasy he told you about weeks ago. Of course, you had a safeword that you were more than comfortable using—but Zoro did have a point. It felt too good to stop.

“Zoro, ’m too full.” You whined as his tip dragged on your g-spot, applying force deep inside and pressing on your bladder again. It was about to be one press too many.

“Just let it out, baby. It’ll feel good.”

You groaned and bit your lip. You didn’t think that you’d be able to hold it much longer, but when his cock was this deep it was hard to think straight.

“I’ve got an idea,” he paused and you gasped with relief. “C’mere babe. Let’s get you in a different position. A better one.”

You whimpered as Zoro manhandled you, pulling you around so you were in doggystyle. You tried to squeeze your thighs together to ward off the impending release, but all they could do was shake.

He pushed his cock into you slowly, and then bent over you, pressing his chest to your back. “This better?”

As he started fucking you again, you let out a desperate moan. The different angle was pressing on your bladder more than before, so when you thought you were going to get a reprieve, you were sorely mistaken. He fucked down and into you, deep and grinding as his hips rolled against yours.

Zoro's earrings jingled in your ears, a rhythmic and metallic music that you could listen to for hours.

“Zoro, fuck, it’s too much” you keened his name, almost crying, and it spurred him on. You were getting dangerously close to relieving yourself and cumming at the same time. He was ravenous for it.

“Get yourself all dirty for me, sweetheart. Let it out.”

“I—fuck—I c-can’t hold it anymore, Zoro.”

“Then don’t."

His fingers crept down to rub circles around your clit, something he hoped would send you over the edge. A loud, guttural moan escaped your lips when he pressed down on your clit like it was a button. At the same, he thrusted into you especially hard, and your body released against your own will. His fingers danced around your clit, goading out as much liquid and pleasure as they could.

“Zoro—fuck, fuck, Zoro,” you spasmed and squirmed around his cock, dribbling and squirting messiness all over while cumming at the same time. You practically screamed his name. Your walls clenched around him harder than he had ever felt, and he groaned in your ear.

“Mmmmm. I told you it would feel good, didn’t I?”

Your convulsions and rolling eyes were more than enough evidence that he was right.

that's all for this one (ᵔ◡ᵔ) i honestly had fun writing this and i think i'm won over by this kink. shoutout to the two anons who asked for this! sorry if it wasn't freaky enough :o but i hope u liked it <3

here's my masterlist and my october posting schedule!

finally, trick or treat? (tumblr links!)

[neil-gaiman]

Hi Neil.

I know you are flooded with asks and this somehow became extremely long. Too long. “Why am I suddenly telling this poor man my life story?” too long. “I think I’d rather he work on the GO3 script than read this wild beast” too long. “He’s going to think you’re criminally dangerously insane” too long. If you never get to it, I’m good with never seeing a response from you. Maybe it’s better that way? Maybe an anon would have been nice here. But, it’s 2024, so I say “we ball.” It’s a privilege to be able to send this to you at all. You get a lot to this effect and I hope they give you good feels, so maybe what’s the harm, yeah? Because this is not an ask. This is a thank you letter.

First, thanks for reblogging my therapist post, I hope it amused you. I nearly sent you “How am i supposed to explain this to my therapist?!” But refrained. At that time.

So, therapy. What is therapy really? Well…

Things have been really rotten for as long as I can remember. Bad health, bad doctors, bad relationships, bad coping mechanisms, bad all kinds of things. (Yeah, bad is a weak and unhelpful word, my therapist reminds me, but we’re doing this.)

Well, things got even more really really rotten and BAD these last few years. Health declined further, coping mechanisms declined further and more intensely, packed up my life, applied for disability, moved back in with my parents across the country.

Then 4 years ago last week I watched my fiance die of a sudden heart attack. I was 29. Two years later my best friend died. Then last summer I sauntered vaguely into a cancer scare. Not long before an operation my cat who has been my companion through so much garbage died as well. I’m not entirely in the clear on the cancer scare front. All my attempts at going back to work, volunteering, going to grad school - they collapsed on me because I couldn’t get through this STUFF.

(Sometimes when I talk about this, when I tell people, I think “they are going to think you are a raging pathological liar.” Because I’m not sure I would believe someone if they told me all of this happened to them. In such a short time period. All before they were 35. And hell if that hasn’t been isolating. You know how it sounds? Lonely. And it is.)

I did the hypervigilant and sensation/experience chasing stage of PTSD. It got me in a lot of trouble in all kinds of ways. I had to do a lot of medical and psych advocating because things kept getting worse. That was exhausting. Then that peaked. I went into the thick of the “I feel absolutely nothing” stage for a long time. I didn’t feel fatigue or hunger or thirst. Not people, feelings, a reason. Not hope.

But of course, like seems be for a lot of us, I somehow found Good Omens at just the right time. I was a very “I’m so cool and intellectual I mostly consume non-fiction media” person for too long. Like, what? How is that even a real thing? And it wasn’t real. It was just part of this curated autism mask that I don’t think anyone really bought anyway.

I think I got to a point where I’d just had too much reality. I needed fantasy. I didn’t realize I always needed it. But I denied myself for too many odd and painful reasons. Maybe I thought it was an escape I didn’t deserve.

But as it turns out, it wasn’t an escape. I watched both seasons last fall, and then this light came on. I watched it again and again.

I came to tumblr because I needed more. I found this fandom. I stepped into this beautiful world of fanart and fanfiction and brain flexing meta writing and a sense of community and wonder that you and Terry created - that everyone involved in the show inflated - exploded in the right way - like fireworks if fireworks were some kind of autocatalytic reaction - a self perpetuating force.

It’s not a “saved my life” feeling. Not a “getting my life back” feeling. It’s been a “maybe it’s time for you to have the life you’ve always been denied - that you’ve denied yourself” feeling.

I’m creating. I’m not “great” yet. Not terribly “good” at all. Maybe “behind” as far as the “proper” timeline for starting. I know there isn’t one, not really, but boy does that society machine make ya feel like there is. And sure, I started and stopped a lot in the past. But the second it got hard I always gave up. I felt like if I didn’t get it “right” to begin with, then I just didn’t have it in me at all. But for once I’m really in it. I’m writing and trying to draw things that look less like fever dream five year old drawings. (Not that there’s anything wrong with those, is there? 🙃) I’m eating better. I’m sleeping better. I reach out to old friends more. I’ve made new friends who share this love of Good Omens.

My therapist has been floored by the change in me. After that first funny mini flop, he has been so encouraging about it. I saw him this week and I said “Maybe this is helping me get prepared to start living again. Maybe it’s a springboard.” And he honest to god said “But You ARE living. This is YOU LIVING. Why does it have to be a springboard? Why do you have to turn this into ‘work?’ Just let yourself have this for once in your life.”

But there were two more added elements that made it all work. And I can’t help but think this whole brainrot thing wouldn’t have happened without them. So many things just happened all at just the right time - a proper coincidence.

In all of the madness of the last few years I finally got the memo that I'm autistic. i figured I was for a while. But it finally sunk in for me and my docs and my people. So I’d been working on unpacking that. Grieving the life that could have been entirely different, shedding the mask. I let myself hyperfixate openly instead of hiding it and hating myself for “spiralling” or “obsessing” like others -!like ‘I’ always punished myself for before we knew that it was a trait and not a personality flaw.

Then over the last few months my therapist and I started trying this new exercise. One session he stopped me and said “in the last 20 minutes you have responded to what I’ve said with 9 ‘I knows.’” My response to that? “Ugh, I know.” So we started this “I know” swear jar type situation. Really, I’ve been afraid of not knowing. I couldn’t let myself “not know.” Because it meant I was “dumb.” I was just drowning for so long in guilt and self loathing for the “I knew better and screwed up anyway.” Or “I should’ve known better - I should know that by now.”

As it turns out, there’s a lot of things I don’t know. That I didn’t know. Things I will never know. And refusing to admit all of that kept me from learning a damn thing. Kept me from asking questions. Kept me from trying new things because it was scary to do something new - something unknown - and I "knew" how it would all turn out anyway. Kept me from connecting with people because it was painful or embarrassing when they knew things I didn’t and it seemed like I already should have. Kept me from getting better at making art, music, writing. Kept me from forgiving myself. Kept me from growing. And kept me from moving forward. Maybe not on. I don’t know if we ever “move on” from things. But we can move forward as we carry them. And as we do, the weight gets less. We’re able to carry it better. But only if we can admit that we don’t know how. Only if we don’t treat ourselves like this is something we do know or should know and we’re just failing because we’re less than. Not good enough. Not strong enough. Not deserving. We have to be able to say “I don’t know how to do this.” And then we can start looking for the answers. We can ask. We can learn.

I thought about the apple. Being able to tell the difference between good and evil. Aziraphale’s years and years of watching what he “knows” to be true be proven wrong. Crowley’s need to ask questions…

The simple and enormous gift of “Knowledge.” The “Knowledge” of the difference between Good and Evil. The “Knowledge” that can only be gained by realizing, accepting, admitting that there are things we don’t know. Asking the questions. Sometimes we get answers we don’t like. Sometimes the consequences of asking hurt us. And unless you want to stay in that painful place that painful knowledge got you, well, you’ve got to let yourself learn how to get out.

So all of this good? I never expected this. I never thought I deserved it. Joy and belonging and this sense that “Yeah, maybe things can get better. Maybe things can be good.” Because I said those things, not truly believing them, to the people I thought needed to hear it. But it couldn’t save them. It was hollow. The proof for us wasn’t really in our orbit or on our radar at the time. And now they’re gone.

People always say “it’s never too late.”

One of the people I lost said “it’s later than you think.”

I jokingly would respond “it’s already too late.”

It was for him in the end. For them. For some people I guess it really is. But maybe a lot of the “too late” people are there because they think “they know” that things will never be good for them. So they stop looking, they stop asking, stop finding. And eventually they just stop.

Then there came Crowley’s “It’s always too late.” The first time I heard it I thought “For sure, Crowley-cakes, I KNOW.”

But then…I just needed to rewatch the whole thing. And lines like that…familiar things…familiar themes…I was suddenly identifying with these characters. I suddenly saw myself. And the realization hit - I connected with something! Something new. And I FELT THAT. And that tiny little crack that made in the wall was just enough to start breaking it down. Yeah, when you start letting yourself feel after not feeling for so long, opening up to the good feelings means opening up to feelings and then the bad ones come out too. But when there IS good … it helps you balance. You can deal with the bad a little better because you’ve got the good thing to lean against when it gets too much. And now you’ve got feelings. You’ve got good and bad. You’ve got sticky foggy grey. You’ve got life.

Whew.

So, TLDR, thank you. From the bottom of my slowly healing heart, thank you.

And to sign off with some shits and giggles… I couldn’t find this in existence as a sticker so I had to custom order. Perhaps this will spread misery and panic among the humans of my city - or at least a malignant and creepy sense of unease.

Or maybe they’ll say “wtf” and go home and google it and they’ll fall into the Good Omens hole they never knew they needed too.

Thank you for this. I never quite know what to say to messages like this apart from I am really glad that it helps. (It becomes the weird extra piece that I worry about when writing season 3 -- hoping that it will be that thing again. Not just a story, but something that helps people feel and helps with healing and helps with love.)

[ohnoitstbskyen]

... y'all know Lae'zel is acting scared, right?

Video transcription: I've seen a lot of comments on my short about Lae'zel dismissing her entire character because she's mean and… I'm just checking in here… you guys know she's scared, right? She's terrified. She was kidnapped by the worst monster she knows, infected with the most horrifying death anyone in her culture can have, and then stranded on a hostile world, alone, with nothing to guide her except the dogmatic military cult indoctrination of a cruel lich demigod, telling her that her only hope of salvation is to follow Gith doctrine with total unyielding faith. And still she tries to save you. When she keeps insisting that you must get to the Githyanki crèche, it's our only hope, she's trying to guide you towards the only salvation she knows from the parasite, so she can share it with you. And Gith... aren't supposed to do that, saving an outsider is not part of the doctrine, she's breaking the rules trying to do right by you. None of that means she's not being an asshole, she's rude, dogmatic and unpleasant. But everything she does comes from a genuine, very misguided and abrasive, desire to do the right thing. It doesn't make her behaviour okay, but there is more to her character than just "being the mean one."

To expand on this a bit more than I can in a 60 second short, people acting from fear and from their damage is a major theme among the Baldur's Gate 3 companions.

Lae'zel is terrified and falling back on the only thing she believes will give her back some control over her situation, which is the dogma of the military cult she's in. Shadowheart is much the same, amnesiac and grasping on to the only solid thing she knows, which is her faith, which preaches deception, loss and duplicity as the only certain factors in life.

Gale is an inveterate people-pleaser desperately dependent on other people to help him feed his magic addiction, with his overtly affable exterior hiding a rolling boulder of guilt, ambition, greed, arrogance and legitimate hurt. Asterion is... well, no way to really lay out his deal without spoiling, but the boy has been through it and his self-destructive, hedonistic and selfish impulses are all coping mechanism and self-defense all the time.

None of that make their shitty behaviours okay, but in a fictional story, those kinds of flaws and toxic behaviours are what make for interesting stories and characters. I don't blame anyone for finding Lae'zel unpleasant and abrasive, but I do get a bit Old Man Yells At Cloud about people who casually brag about shoving her off a cliff-side, or murdering her because "she was a bitch" or whatever.

Like... being unable to face discomfort in your media is not a virtue, and lashing out reactively against fiction that doesn't validate your power fantasy isn't a flex.

Of course, I saw a lot of those reactions in YouTube comments and on social media, so my sample is biased by those algorithms, but still. A lot of people seem aggressively proud that they never engaged with her story because the terrified indoctrinated child-soldier wasn't immediately nice to them and I can't explain it but something about that reaction feels puritan to me.

[lcriedlastnight]

Fake dating and drunken kisses with Oscar. The drunken kisses, with reader's fingers in Oscar's hair and reader sitting in his lap, kissing him with no restraint; things getting heated, Oscar's hands slipping under reader's top and earning a slight shiver from her. All the while, Oscar could only wish reader would kiss him like this when they're sober. Oscar lets that thought linger until they both fall asleep in each other's arms after kissing way too many times to count because they can't seem to get enough of each other.

thanks anon, lovely! i appreciate you very much.

tw: fem!reader. maybe a few swears. not spell checked. not too sure, lmk if you want me to add any.

w/c: 1.8k

it wasn’t oscar’s idea, he swears. but now he’s here, at this club, filled with his fellow drivers, random celebrities he can’t be arsed to learn the names of, multiple fan girls trying to get with lando and you.

he wasn’t even sure it was lando’s idea to go out to some random club in miami to celebrate his first win. it probably was, if he thought straight, but how could he? with a mix of a constant supply of alcohol and you swimming through his veins, he doesn’t know how anyone expects him to think straight.

he had the pleasure of you being glued to his side from the moment the both of you stepped into the club, your hand not leaving his arm for a whole thirty minutes.

this was all for show of course, but his friends around him didn’t know this, they thought whatever you and him had going on was real and it was nights like these where he could play into his deepest fantasies. the ones where you’re not all over him because you have to be, but because you want to be. like he longs for you to be.

you started off sitting beside him. your hand sitting loosely on his forearm, your touch light and tickling a little as you run your fingers over his bare skin. the more drinks you were convinced to down with lando, and the shots logan told you tasted so good, ended up with you being a little more than drunk.

so you went from sitting politely beside him, three hours before, to your legs slung over his lap, half sitting on him half not.

because oscar had had significantly less than you to drink tonight he was way less drunk and more tipsy. drunk enough to follow in your footsteps with how affectionate you were being. although he didn’t think he had to have alcohol to do it. just your permission.

“the thing is, batman really did hate the joker he was just afraid to let him know it. he for sure has like emotional problems or something. but by the end of the film he lets everyone in and it’s so nice!”. you had just finished explaining the plot of the lego batman film to oscar. he nodded along, listening as best as he could, although you did loose him at some points, he would have to watch it to see what you were talking about.

the table was almost empty by the end of your ramble, everyone having left because they didn’t really care much, neither did oscar but he cared about what you cared about so maybe he did.

he hums as his hand played with your hair, brushing it away from your face and tangling it between his fingers. he had a strong urge to kiss you right now. but your agreement had been to only kiss if everyone wasn’t convinced, which meant you guys had only kissed once or twice. and that was at the start of- well whatever this was. everyone was easily convinced you two were together. oscar didn’t know whether to be happy at annoyed.

oscar’s knocked out of his thoughts by you shuffling around to sit yourself on his lap. your smile bright.

“thanks for listening osc. m’gonna kiss you now, okay?” you mumble out, your hands holding onto his shoulders. oscar’s on your hips, holding you still.

he barely get a second to even register your words before your leaning down and locking your lips on his. he feels guilty because you’re way more drunk than him but before he can pull away from you, your mouth opens and you’re sloppily kissing him a little bit harder. he returns the favour, quickly.

you’re both interrupted by a voice calling over to you both to ‘get some!’. you pull away embarrassed, hiding your head in the crook of oscar’s neck. his hands jump to cradle the back of your head and your neck. his touch gentle and loving. oscar wants to kill whatever driver hollered at them. now you’re embarrassed and you’ll probably never want to kiss him again!

after maybe ten minutes you pop your head out from it’s hiding place. your eyes glassy as you stare at oscar.

“can we go home?” you ask him. you seem less drunk than you were before the kiss. maybe it sobered you up? oscar thinks for a moment before replying. “home?”.

“your room.” you clarify. your words come out shy, which surprises him. he’s never really seen you shy before. it’s a side he comes to enjoy. he nods at your words and quickly pulls his phone out to book an uber for you both.

you ungraciously pull yourself off his lap and stand, wobbling in your heels next to the table, waiting on him. oscar is quick to follow suit, making sure he has your purse and that your purse has all your things inside. once he’s sure he has everything he grabs your hand in his.

“c’mon pretty. we gotta say bye to lando first before we leave.” he tells you, voice all soft and syrupy. you nod, agreeing.

oscar pulls you through all the dancing bodies on the dance floor, his hand gripping yours tightly making sure you wouldn’t get lost in the crowd of people. he eventually spots lando in the corner and explains that you’re both leaving.

“you’re leaving! why?!” lando complains over the loud, thumping music. you wobble on your heels and half fall into oscar, who catches you quickly, like if you were to fall you would die.

“we’re getting pretty tired” oscar tells him, his eyes saying sorry, but he wasn’t really. not when you were coming home with him. lando pouts and complains but eventually bids you both goodnight before finding his dance partner again.

oscar says goodbyes to other people he sees on the way to the door, hand still clutching yours. you mumble your goodbyes too not wanting to seem rude. the uber is waiting for you both outside and oscar couldn’t be more glad wanting to get you to the hotel as soon as he can.

the boy helps you inside then gets inside too. he helps you buckle your belt, the alcohol in his system helping him converse with the driver, his hand glued to your thigh, rubbing softly.

you rest the side of your head on the car door and it thumps against it as the car follows the roads bumps and turns. oscar looks at you in concern but doesn’t mention it. the ride to the hotel isn’t as long as you thought it would be but you think it must be because of the alcohol.

oscar helps you out the car and thanks the driver before grabbing your hand again and leading you into the hotel. he thanks his luck once again this night, as he thinks about how lovey you were being with him. he knows you don’t do it normally because it’s not in your agreement unless necessary but god, to have you touch him like this when you were sober.

you both cling to each other in the elevator as oscar presses soft kisses to your shoulder as you stand in front of him. you lean your head back on his chest, revelling in his affection. the elevator stops at his floor and he leads you to his room.

“i’m sleeping in your bed with you tonight, by the way” you say as he swiped the key card and ushers you inside.

oscar’s brows jump up in surprise and amusement as a smirk makes its way to his mouth. “where else would you be sleeping, hm?” he asks.

that stupid smirk just makes you want to kiss it off of him, so you do. you lean up on your tiptoes to kiss him gently. oscar feels you straining and leans down to kiss you better. your hands make their way up to his hair to tug a little, earning yourself a little groan. this makes you smile into his mouth. he pulls away at this.

oscar doesn’t think his life can get any better as be presses firm kisses to your lips before pulling away, your own lips chasing his. he throws his head back with a silent groan before asking, “m’kay pretty girl, time for bed?”. you nod and let him lead you to get ready for bed.

you take significantly longer than oscar to get ready for bed, so he sits in his once lonely bed waiting for you, thinking about how good he must’ve been in his past life to be able to do this with you tonight. he wants to be this domestic with you for the rest of his life. he’s not even being dramatic. the sound of your footsteps breaks him out of his train of thoughts.

“hey, look at you! c’mere pretty.” oscar coos as he pats his lap, signalling for you to sit. you follow his directions and clamber into his lap, still a little drunk. the boy holds back a chuckle. he feels drunk then too but not off those stupid shots you took with logan, off your touch. he thinks about your dress from tonight. then he kisses you again.

oscar traces your lips with his tongue and you open for him, letting him in. you kiss each other lazily, you’re in no rush. your hands find his hair again tugging again. in retaliation his own hand moves from your waist to slide underneath your (his) t-shirt. he lays a big, open palm on your back, almost supporting you as you sit on top of him.

you two kiss for what seems like days but is only a few hours. oscar can tell from your kiss bitten lips. he smiles at your tired and glassy eyes as you tell him you’re tired.

you end up with your face pressed against his chest and your legs tangled up with his, your feet touching his somehow. you mumble into his chest, but oscar misses it.

“what, pretty?” he asks, a hand scratching gently at your scalp to help lull you to sleep.

“said night osc.” you tell him, a little louder this time. he grins at your tired voice.

“oh. sorry, g’night pretty girl” oscar must be too late though as he feels your breath even out. he sighs to himself, his hand still moving. there’s no way he was getting sleep any time soon. mind racing around the fact that he could be doing this every night with you, if he just told you.

your touch, your kisses, every night. oscar loved seeing you free tonight. he wanted that for you everyday. there was definitely a conversation to be had tomorrow.

[shepscapades]

looking through your docsuma tag.....love them. wish they had one more combined braincell so they could realize their feelings

HERE'S THE THING THOUGH OKAY the problem is actually that they're both too smart about their feelings. you've got me down a horrible rabbit hole okay let me do my best to explain without being a freak(reading this back over, i failed <3).

Xisuma takes longer to realize, first of all. He's got so much to deal with coming out of s8 and through the beginning of s9 that quite frankly he's really just grateful to have another friend he can count on and trust, and he's so consumed by getting the androids back in working order on top of his actual season 9 plans (on top of Cleo shoving self care down his throat and demanding that he make a better habit of taking breaks and taking care of himself, which takes a LONG time to adjust to, if it can be argued that he ever does) that he doesn't really realize he's developed feelings for Doc until his heart beats him over the head with it randomly one day. Probably sometime in S10. Even then, because of said busy-ness, I think Xisuma has a very hard time getting over the meta-ness of a creator developing feelings for his creation and the selfishness of that reality amidst all of his other responsibilities, and he is likely too scared/overwhelmed to entertain the thought of the feelings themselves, much less the likelihood of reciprocation or the fantasy of a relationship.

Doc, on the other hand, realizes he is developing feelings for Xisuma kind of steadily throughout the course of s9, since that's when they start spending so much more time together in the lab working on androids and improving android tech. As a general statement, Doc is very aware of himself, all of the time. His awareness of the self is very important to his sense of normalcy and control, so any time he experiences a new emotion, he notes it, logs it.

So, while he's very aware of the feelings he's developing as they happen, he doesn't quite put a name to it/realize what it actually is until he talks to Tango and Etho, funnily enough--It's definitely one of those moments where Tango or Etho or whomever are explaining their struggles with the physical manifestations of their... idk, lovesickness-- ie, thirium pump rate irregularities, temperature fluctuations, influxes of feelings they've described as a combination of longing, affection, want, happiness, yearning... and Doc, as the unbiased third party to put 2 and 2 together, explains to them that those are obvious signs of romantic attraction, only very belatedly realizing several hours later that those are the exact symptoms he hasn't quite been able to put a name to. Naturally he's exceptional about being quiet about this realization until he slips up during a maintenance check-in with Tango sometime after, who is not doing well in s9, and Tango (mid romance-ranting) catches the passing of a wistful expression on Doc's face and calls him out for "totally thinking about someone right now" (Teasing aside, tango promises to keep Doc's secret).

So, despite knowing well his feelings before X ever develops his own, Doc is actually very, very careful about them-- He knows more than anyone else how busy Xisuma is. He knows how stressed X is. He also knows Xisuma seems to be more knowledgeable when it comes to emotions and feelings, and despite the clear signs that Xisuma shows interest(?) in him as well, Doc can only assume there is a good reason nothing romantic has happened between them-- he trusts Xisuma more than anything, and he--firmly-- will not breach this trust by acting on something Xisuma does not seem to be ready for (or does not seem to want yet(yet?)). Therefore, Doc is patient, and even though as Season 10 develops and Doc becomes aware of the likelihood that Xisuma could return the feelings, he trusts Xisuma's emotional intuition more than anything. He, painfully, recognizes Xisuma's discomfort (or hesitation), concludes that there must be a missing variable in this equation he cannot grasp, and decides to let Xisuma lead because of it. He will not push farther than he feels Xisuma has.

It's definitely one of those "fell first" "fell harder" type situations I think. I'm normal about them. can you tell

[goosita]

no no billy taking you out on his horse and showing you the reigns but it’s a bit hard to concentrate with him and his wandering hands pushed up behind you

oh my god you don't understand this is peak romantic fantasy for me on GOD

riding around out in the fields with billy because he has a day to himself, and he wants to spend it with you.

and we all know billy loves his horse, and he's so good at riding the animal and taming it. he asks if you wanna go out with him for a ride and you're reluctant at first. of course, this is the wild west. lots of people know how to ride horses, it's a huge mode of transportation. but...you had never spent that much time around them. you lived in town and didn't tend to stray from there, and your interactions with the animals were mostly limited to carriage rides where someone else was in control.

"c'mon angel, it'll be fun. promise," he says, giving you those imploring blue eyes all round and wide. you agreed, knowing that billy would never let anything happen to you. not that you were scared. just a little uneasy, is all.

but then the afternoon comes and he's got you sat comfortably right in front of him in the saddle. his chest is warm and solid against your back, your bum is settled nicely in the cradle of his hips and his thighs, keeping you right there against him. your hands rest on the saddle horn while his arms are resting around your waist, holding the reins.

lady, his horse, wanders around where he guides her. she's a pretty horse, white with speckles and she's very calm. you can tell that her and billy have a quiet kind of trust between them.

"see?" he grins, leaning his head down to peck your cheek. "not so bad, is it?"

and it's not. it's not bad at all, really. you can tell your thighs might be a little sore later from the unconscious way you're clenching them to feel balanced, but this is actually kinda nice. the sun is perched in the middle of the sky, warming the fields and your skin. bugs and wildlife are buzzing around you as you ride, and billy seems so relaxed and content behind you.

"you wanna take the reins for a bit?" he asks, patting your thigh and giving it an affectionate squeeze. he likes to do that, give you these little pets and caresses sometimes. just because he can.

"oh...um....i don't really know-"

"nonsense, it's easy. here." he cuts you off gently, placing the leather reins in your hands. he explains to you what actions the horse will take as cues, and you don't dare do anything but encourage the animal to keep on moseying forward like she had been. billy chuckles softly at your hesitance, but he doesn't make fun. he lets you do what you're comfortable with.

you try to focus on directing lady where you want her to go, but it starts to get harder when billy's hands slide up and down your outer thighs slowly. you know he's probably not trying to distract you or rile you up, but you can't help the way your body and mind react to his touch.

billy rests his chin on your shoulder and hums, some silly little folk tune he must have stuck in his head. you can feel the vibrations of his voice against your back and it makes your tummy flutter with butterflies. no matter how long you and billy have been together, even little things like this make your heart stutter like a lovesick teen with a crush.

"you're doin' great, honey," he murmurs, and you can feel his smile against your cheek where he still rests over your shoulder. it makes you feel better, the praise. you like it when he praises you, even for little things like this.

his hands begin to wander, though, and you're not sure you can stay focused on controlling lady. billy brings his hands up to your hips, his fingers dipping into the waistband of the pants he'd loaned you to ride in. it's not inherently sexual, the way he's touching you. a little intimate to be touched out in the open like this, a little against decorum, but you're alone out here anyway. he strokes your skin softly, adoringly, like he just wants to feel you under his fingertips. as much as you like it, it's too distracting.

"here," you blurt, handing him the reins back. "can't think straight with you around." it comes out more playful than scolding, though, and billy chuckles.

"alright. whatever you want, angel," he tells you, pressing another kiss to your cheek before taking over again.

let's talk about billy, baby!

[fantasy-anatomy-analyst]

I hope I'm not asking too many questions... but I really love the skywhale trope and wanted to hear your thoughts on them?

i think we need more variety of whales in the sky! seems like more people go for a blue whale or humpback whale design on their sky whales, which is fine because they are very iconic whales and i love the way they look. but how about some beaked or toothed whales? flying orcas? a bowhead? i think a sky whale that looked like a bowhead whale would be just wonderful, look at this thing.

(image description: first is an underwater photo of a bowhead whale's face. the top of its mouth is very narrow while the bottom of it is enormous, like a pelican. there is a white patch at the front of its lower jaw with black spots in a line across it. the second image is a detailed illustration of the whale's whole body, comparing it to the size of an elephant and showing the shape of its fins and tail. the elephant is roughly the size of the whale's lower jaw. end description.)

i love this thing. look at that face. the humpback whale may have longer and prettier fins for that sky whale aesthetic, but the bowhead's face shape is delightful. more diversity in sky whale designs!

but of course, the more interesting thought is how exactly to make such an enormous vertebrate work as a flying animal. where is it going? what does it eat? what happens when it dies?

it would be more realistic for sky whales to be smaller, but when people think of sky whales, they want the huge size! it's a fantasy, we want the epic huge flying creatures with their strange singing calls swimming through the clouds. so i'm not going to talk about the more logical small flying whales that go around in flocks to hunt birds (though the idea of smaller flying dolphins is also delightful!) I'm going to just talk about big slow baleen sky whales, the most iconic and desired of all sky whales.

step one: how the heck are these things in the air. it's easier to explain how a dragon can fly, they have big powerful wings. how do whales fly? I think the clearest answer is that they have some form of massive internal air sac full of lifting gas. real life oceanic whales are full of blubber, but maybe sky whales don't have as much blubber and get a lot of their size from their big air sacs instead.

lifting gas is just an umbrella term for any gases that are lighter than the standard atmospheric air. this includes heated atmospheric air, hydrogen, helium, coal gas, ammonia, and methane. (according to wikipedia) and with that list I think we've found our answer. whales are actually even-toed ungulates like cows. they could easily produce a lot of methane with the right diet. they'd just keep it in their air sacs instead of releasing it as a waste material! and for the best production of methane, these sky whales should have multi-chambered stomachs.

This does mean they're probably going to eat a lot of plant matter! so imagine them swooping low to take huge mouthfuls of tree tops! terrifying! maybe their baleen is structured to scrape the leaves off the branches. Maybe they swoop down to kelp forests in the ocean and take huge mouthfuls of that as well. any critters they happen to consume in the process are just bonus snacks full of protein. they likely also consume large flocks of small birds on the go, and probably clouds of flying insects too! locust swarms, for example. watch out for the low flying whales! I think they'd be slow like blimps and mostly use their tails and fins to steer and swoop down for food. they probably also rub themselves on tree branches or mountain sides to scratch their itches. I bet they'd have a symbiosis with many bird species that pick off their parasites.

like cow manure, sky whale dung could be a great source of fertilizer. best to avoid the usual paths of migrating sky whales so you don't end up dead by having giant poop clumps fall on you, but once it's hit the ground, that's free whale manure for every farmer in the area. the lands along the paths of migrating sky whales are probably very fertile, which also serves the whales, since they'll be eating the leafy tree tops! and when a whale dies, falling to the ground, the resulting small earthquake would certainly be startling, and both the impact and the rot process would cause a lot of damage to the surrounding land.

things are not immediately fertilized when a corpse rots. it takes a while! the rot causes more harm at first and then starts to nourish the ground later.

and dead bodies tend to bloat with gases and i have already established that these whales are full of methane. a lot of it would be released at death anyway, and i don't think the whale would drop immediately. or perhaps they fly lower in their old age and just crash land and die slowly. either way, these things are huge and full of methane and then they bloat. which means they might also explode spontaneously as part of the decay process. the air for miles around is going to be so nasty. but i think if you live in sky whale territory, you're just going to have to get used to the stink, because the manure that falls on a more regular basis is also going to be so so stinky.

like real world whale falls, sky whale falls will attract absolutely every carnivorous creature in the area. anything that eats meat will follow that awful stench right to the source and start gnawing away at the thick skin. people will have the easiest time, since they have tools for this beyond just their teeth and claws. the faster the whale is cut open, the less likely there will be an explosive bloat stage, so I'm sure the culture of the region would have some superstitions about leaving a dead whale lying too long. if you don't go harvest that bounty, it will explode and you never know where those chunks will land.

and then when there's only bones, people use em for building all sorts of things! the societies that exist in the paths of sky whales would be very cool to see.

that turned into a ramble and I haven't even designed a sky whale lol. lemme doodle one real quick.

(image description: a sketch of a sky whale, which resembles the aforementioned bow whale, swooping down to munch on trees in a forest. end description.)

[chaifootsteps]

I don't get this fandom's fixation with insisting Blitzo is the one who views relationships as transactional when there's so many examples of him obviously wanting to have more than that. IMP is basically his attempt to make himself a new family with Loona as his daughter and M&M first as the people he wants to threesome with but more realistically, his friends

Stolas meanwhile behaves in a much more transaction based mindset where he assumes if he gives X he can get Y

he views his cheating on Stella as not counting as cheating because 'cheating implies a betrayal and [Stella] never gave two shits about [him]'. Even though the marriage was arranged and he never loved Stella either (he somehow forgot he burst into tears when he first saw her and was miserable about the whole idea?) he expected Stella to make an effort to love him because that's how marriages work. He didn't seem to appreciate that it being arranged would make his partner's feelings more complex and things might have gone better if he hadn't tried to play happy families with her, despite the fact he also had reservations about the arrangement and is gay so he should be able to empathize with Stella on some level

he assumes giving Via a trip to Loo Loo Land in the hopes of getting back their close bond but it isn't until he actually listens to her that any progress is made (and while on the trip he actively upsets her by harassing Blitzo right in front of her)

but the bigger example of course is Blitzo. he uses the book to get sex out of him, literally describing what they have as 'favors for favors' and 'transactional'

then he lowkey kind of does it again when he uses the crystal in the hopes of getting a romantic relationship in return

Stolas is so fixated on the idea of Blitzo as an object who just fulfils his desires that he punishes him whenever he has a life of his own to attend to (taking Loona for the jab) or whenever Blitzo points out his fantasies are not reality (replying to 'that's a romcom' with 'fuck you'). He's so committed to this that despite knowing Blitzo's insecurities he dances with someone else because that person is giving him attention and that's all that matters.

And when Blitzo doesn't respond to the crystal with what Stolas wanted to get out of the interaction - a romantic partner - Stolas dips immediately. He doesn't explain himself and he doesn't make any attempt to keep Blitzo in his life. It's incel logic at its core - he doesn't want Blitzo in his life even as a friend, despite the fact he supposedly likes him, because ultimately he doesn't actually see Blitzo as a person. he's an object who is supposed to fulfil the transaction Stolas is still unconsciously setting up

worse than that is Stolas has fooled himself into believing he's the good guy who was doing good things for him out of the kindness of his heart. he reframes exchanging his book for sex as 'supporting him', reframes humiliating him in front of a crowd by sexualizing him as 'letting everyone see how much [he] likes [Blitzo]', talks about his passive aggressive texts trying to get Blitzo to still come over on the full moon as 'wanting to spend time with [Blitzo]' even though those nights were probably going to end with Blitzo feeling like he had to sleep with Stolas, again

tl:dr but so far Via is the only person who can break her end of whatever exchange Stolas views an interaction as being without him getting pissy about it, since he tries to empathize with her even when he repeats the exact same mistake 5 minutes later. he doesn't care Stella was forced into marriage too since he expected her to play house because that's what he was doing, and he cares so little about Blitzo despite saying he thinks highly of him that not only does he not want his friendship, he's happy to ghost him after their fight in full moon then for a full month going into ghostfuckers. Blitzo didn't give him what he wanted and Stolas doesn't actually care about his feelings, so Blitzo may as well not exist

This fandom, and increasingly Viv, don't seem to have the first clue what Blitzo is or what his problem is or what he wants. He just does things in whatever order, according to what makes Stolas look better.

[wisteria-lodge]

Gender and Harry Potter is such a hydra that just keeps revealing more heads the more you try and chop through it. Case in point: Today I just realized Harry Potter might've been originally intended as a book for boys, which if it was *wow*, way to miss the mark Joanne. Do you think it was actually intended for a male audience? To me it kinda makes sense if it was because of the way most women and girls are portrayed in it.

Bloomsbury Publishing definitely requested that JK Rowling publish with her (gender neutral) initials instead of 'Joanne Rowling' because they were concerned boys would not buy a book with a woman's name on the cover.

My guess is that her British publishers slotted it more firmly under 'boy' than her American publishers did. Harry Potter is 100% a school story, a super established British children's book genre. Historically, there are boy school stories (set in all-male posh public schools) and girl school stories (set in all-female posh public schools.) Hogwarts is of course co-ed, but that fact that it comes out of a literary tradition in which all the characters are the same gender... might help explain why in-universe gender politics seem remarkably absent from the wizarding world.

It actually kind of bugs me, when a canon-compliant fic makes a big deal about male-only inheritance or something, because that's just not something we see. There's one line about "Black family tradition" saying that the house goes to the next oldest guy, but since Dumbledore is worried that *Bellatrix* is about to inherit, it clearly isn't that important.

JKR has made a fantasy society where gender doesn't really matter - Augusta Longbottom and Walburga Black are clearly the powerful matriarchs of their respective families, Maxime and McGonagall are headmistresses, no problem. There isn't the boys quidditch team vs girl's quidditch team, the locker rooms and the prefects bathroom seem to be co-ed, "robes" are gender neutral, there isn't a sense that a specific discipline or type of magic is gendered (we see both male and female Transfiguration, Care of Magical creatures, and Defense Against the Dark arts professors...) There is kind of a sense that the boys are supposed to ask the girls to the yule ball... but multiple girls still ask out Harry. Gender comes up a lot in these books yes, but not so much in the actual worldbuilding. We have gendered bathrooms and dorms, and the rule that the girls can go into the boy's dormitory, but not vice-versa. Ron considers lace a girly fabric. Of the top of my head, that's all of the "gendered" rules I can think of.

But, since the main character is a boy, it makes sense that her British publishers would slot it more into the category of "school story (boy)" and market accordingly. I think it's extremely likely that she was asked to lean more heavily into quidditch, an aspect of the world building that JKR is clearly not interested in. She's said multiple times that she dislikes writing quidditch games - which is why she throws in comedy with the commentary, or makes some magical thing go down, or finds ways to cancel quidditch entirely. The mechanics and tension of the game *itself* are not interesting to her. I think it's also possible this is a reason for Hermione's relatively late intro into the friend group during Book 1? Harry can be friends with a girl, but first we need to establish that Ron is his *best* friend.

But then the books hit America, and the whole "school story" thing didn't read as "boy" as much as it just read "British." There was a sense in American advertising, especially in the 90s, that girl's products were for girls, but boy's products were for everyone. Scholastic Publishing seemed less interested in gendering the book, and more interested in making sure it didn't come off as too high-brow to American children - so we get the name change from "Philosopher's Stone" to "Sorcerer's Stone," things like that.

But then right before the publication of Book 4 the series exploded, and JKR could have just self-published the thing if her publishers didn't behave. So I think that you can see the fingerprints of that marketing push on Book 1, which grandfathered in a number of worldbuilding choices that JKR maybe wouldn't have made later. But pretty quickly it just became JKR doing her thing.

[imsobadatnicknames2]

I gave b/x a look because of your posts and you are right that most mechanics are simpler than 5e but I don't think I can get into it because of the weird armor mechanics. I don't understand why armor reduces your AC? And having to compare the enemy's AC with a table for every attack roll seems just really clunky and compplicated

Okay fair. The Attack Matrix and descending AC are one of those things that can look really clunky and create culture shock when you're used to modern D&D's mechanics.

They're not really that complicated tho, I'll try to explain.

B/X, like all old-school editions of D&D, uses descending AC, which means that lower AC values are better. Lower AC makes you harder to hit, higher AC makes you easier to hit (as opposed to modern D&D's ascending AC, where higher values are better) That's why armor makes your AC lower rather than higher.

The Attack matrix mechanic is kinda clunky, but the only value from it you actually need to know is the roll needed to hit AC 0. As long as you know that value, you can find the attack roll needed to hit any AC by subtracting the enemy AC from the To-hit-AC-0 value.

Let's see an example.

Let's say you have a level 4 fighter. According to the attack matrix, to hit an enemy with AC 0 you need 17 or more on your attack roll. That's the only value you need to know. When fighting an enemy with any other AC, you can subtract their AC from 17 to find out how high you need to roll. So for example, if you're trying to hit an enemy with AC 4, then 17-4 = 13, you need an attack roll of 13 or more to hit them. If you're fighting an enemy with AC 6, then 17-6 = 11, you need to roll 11 or more to hit them.

That's why both AD&D editions opted to do away with the attack matrix and instead just give you the value of your THAC0 (To Hit AC 0), since all other to-hit rolls can be calculated from it.

Now, of course, if you're used to the way ascending AC works in modern D&D, that might still seem a little unintuitive for you. Luckily there are several B/X-based retroclones that do away with the mechanic entirely and make it work like in modern D&D instead, so you might want to check those out.

Old-School Essentials is extremely faithful to most of B/X's mechanics, but it has ascending AC as an optional mechanic.

Basic Fantasy is mostly B/X-based but it modernizes a few mechanics, including doing away with descending AC entirely and using ascending AC instead.

[daydreams-after-dark]

What's your fanfic fantasy? part 5

Chapter Contents.

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9 // Parts 10 // Part 11 // Part 12 // Part 13 // Part 14 //

Chapter Summary: You and Minho chat after Chan leaves the room. You find out why Minho agreed to fulfilling your fantasy, and you instigate some roleplay.

Premise: OFC + Chan + Jisung 18+ fanfic. This is an AU story about Chan bringing your fantasies to life... but what happens when boyfriends Chan and Han fall in love with you?

Warnings: anal fingering, anal sex, role play, blindfolds, coming inside, fantasy play, comfort.

“Do you think Chan’s okay?” you ask as Minho nestles into the bed resting his head on his hands. He looks up at the ceiling and sighs.

“He did seem weird.” He agrees. “But I’m sure he’ll be fine. Jisung will look after him.' His tone is reassuring.

You slide down alongside him propping yourself up on an elbow to gaze at him. “I suppose so.”

You can’t help but feel concerned. Chan’s behaviour had been so odd, and you worry that you’re to blame. What if you’ve freaked him out somehow? But Minho’s right, Jisung would be with him now. He knows Chan more than anyone. He’ll know what he needs in this moment. Right? Right? You’re not entirely convinced.

“W-was this okay?” Minho asks with a hesitant voice, breaking your thoughts.

You look at him excitedly. “Yeah!” You grin like an idiot. “I don’t know where you learnt to be so…. skilled.” you smirk.

“So it was satisfactory then?” he searches your face.

Oh dear God what kind of question is that? Satisfactory? It was fucking perfect. Minho was perfect. You can’t fathom why he is feeling so insecure.

“I hope you didn’t mind me asking to take the blindfold off?” he adds. He watches your face carefully for your reaction.

“No, of course not.” You rest your hand on his muscular chest hoping to reassure him. “I actually thought it was endearing.” You circle his nipple with a finger.

���Really?” he says, sounding surprised.

You lean your head on his chest and he wraps an arm around you, and you snuggle in. “Mmm. It made my heart feel like it was going to pound of my chest, and… and actually,” you hesitate to continue, “I was really glad it was you.”

Minho beams at you.

“So what made you want to take it off?” you ask.

Minho takes a moment to consider his answer. “It just felt… right. Like the right thing to do. I thought I’d be okay with leaving it on…but… I needed to see your eyes.” He smiles sheepishly. “Is that cheesy?”

He is literally the sweetest man alive. “Nah.. Not cheesy.” you smile.

“You don’t think I’m…like… weird do you? With this fucking a stranger fantasy?” you sucked your bottom lip into your mouth.

Minho chuckles and squeezes your arm. “Nah, everyone’s got fantasies.” He hums.

You rub your thumb over his nipple and he shudders. “So how did Chan approach you about - this?” you're curious to know. It’s not something you go around proposing to people on a daily basis. Well apart from this week it seems.

“Hmmm. Well I can only imagine he didn’t ask Jisung because he can’t stay quiet, and you’ve fucked him already.” He explains like it’s common knowledge. “Then Felix has someone.” He adds, ruling him out too.

You fling your head up in excitement “Wait. What? Since when? Wow! About time. He's such a nice guy!” You gush. Felix has someone? You make a mental note to poke him about it tomorrow.

“Yeah, didn’t you know? He’s got a girlfriend now. I think they’ve been together for a few months.”

You rest your head back down. Fuck.

“Then there’s Binnie.” Minho continues his deductions. “I don’t think Chan asked him because Bin would hate you to confuse him with someone else. He’d be livid. He wants you to know exactly who’s fucking you. He wants you to see exactly what he’s doing to you. Plus- ”

“HIS HANDS!” You both exclaim and burst into laughter.

“Have you seen how rough they are? You’d guess it was him the minute he touched you.” Minho shivers with disgust like he’s imagining Binnie’s filthy hands on him. Minho doesn’t like rough hands then?

Binnie does sound interesting, and you wonder what it would be like to experience him.

“So you were what was left then?” you tease.

"Yah!" he pinches your arm playfully. “I was the best person for the job. I ticked all the boxes. Quiet. Careful. Diligent. Mysterious”. You gaze at him. He is right. He was the best person for the job.

“Hmm. So did Chan just come up to you and ask directly, or?” you push. You are so curious, you can't leave the subject alone.

“Pretty much, yeah. He explained the situation, asked if I would want to do it. And I said yes… obvs.” He shrugs like he does this kind of favour all the time.

“And why did you say yes?” you press.

Minho hesitates and wriggles to adjust his position. Maybe you overstepped with that question? “I… I wanted to take my mind off someone.” He sighs.

“Oh.” You go quiet and wonder if you should ask him more, or just leave it. You continue to caress Minho’s chest and stomach while silence fills the room.

“You know how I do dance performance?” he asks eventually, breaking the silence.

That’s right, when he’s not performing for the band he dances. He is a wonderful, powerful, strong dancer. You take in his physique. Mmm, definitely a dancer’s body.

“Well there’s this guy. His name is Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin. You say the name in your head trying it out.

“You like this Hyunjin?” you ask softly.

“Fuck do I like him, kitten!” he wails. “He is the most beautiful creature you’ve ever seen. He’s elegant but strong.” He sighs again as he describes him. “The way he moves it’s art… and his lips… Oh y/n, they’re the most plush lips I’ve ever seen. He’s perfect. Long hair, long fingers, long -”

“Long dick?” you poke and look up at his face, but he looks defeated.

“I… I wouldn’t know.” He says solemnly.

“Have you told him how you feel?” you ask.

“No… But there was this one night. After practice. Everyone else had gone home and I stayed back to work on a routine. I thought I was alone, but Hyunjin was there…watching me. He came out of the shadows and began dancing too.

I know it sounds silly, and like nothing, but it felt so intimate.

We practiced for hours until we were exhausted and I collapsed on the floor out of breath.” He pauses for a moment, wrapping his arm tighter around you. You in turn, wrap your arm around his torso in a hug.

“Hyunjin laid on the floor next to me. We were both just laying on our backs trying to catch our breath. Fuck his breathing is beautiful too. Then I felt his fingertips touch mine. I thought it was an accident at first. Until his fingers interlaced with mine."

"What did you do?" you whispered, hanging on every word of his story.

"I didn’t know what the fuck to do. So I just laid there. Then… Then Hyunjin... He slid closer to me and leaned over me.”

You can hear the longing in Minho’s voice as he tells his story.

“He was looking into my soul, y/n. I was mesmerized. Frozen still. I could’ve sworn he was going to kiss me, but…”

“But what?” you whisper.

“We heard a noise outside in the corridor. Someone had come back to the studio to collect something they left. Hyunjin was startled and he left. Just got up and left. Without a word. Then that was it.” He finishes his story and goes quiet.

Wow. You don’t know what to say. Poor Minho. Poor Minho’s heart.

“So were you able to take your mind off him tonight?” You try to lighten the mood.

“Does it sound like it?” he huffs, then laughs. “Actually for a little while yes. Thank you.” He says sincerely.

You lean back up on your elbows and scan the room, wondering whether you are meant to go back to your own room or stay here. Your eyes rest on the blindfold. You have an idea. A devious part of you springs into action.

“Minho?” you ask.

“Hmm hmm?” he responds lazily.

“I’m going to blindfold you. Is that okay?”

He looks at you suspiciously, narrowing his eyes. “Yeah.” He replies slowly, unsure about what you're doing.

You reach across his body to grab the blindfold, your breasts practically smacking him in the face as you do. “Just trust me.” you say as you place the blindfold over Minho’s eyes and secure it at the back.

“If you don’t like it I promise I’ll stop.” you reassure him. Minho lays there compliantly. He’s such a good boy.

“So,” You begin slowly running your finger down his chest and abdomen. “You have fantasies about this Hyunjin do you?”

“All the time.” Minho answers without hesitation.

“Do you imagine Hyunjin kissing your body?” you ask.

“Y-yes” replies Minho.

You kiss his chest delicately. His muscles tense. You kiss him again this time on his stomach, gently exploring the dips of his muscles with your lips. Minho’s breath starts to falter.

“Do you imagine Hyunjin touching your cock?” You whisper as you make your way down down down to Minho’s partially hard cock. You take it in your hand. For the first time that night. Well the first time ever, really. But you don’t plan to be y/n right now.

“Yes” he whispers back and swallows hard.

“Does he stroke you like this?” You slowly and gently stroke up and down his shaft. He moans softly. “Yes. Yes he does.” he manages to respond.

You watch his breathing become laboured and soft little moans start to fall from his lips as you stroke his cock.

“You know Minho,” you remove your hand from him and he whimpers at the suddenness of you letting it go.

“Hyunjin wants to suck your cock.” You say in a low tone. “Will you let him? Would you like him to?”

Minho nods vigorously. “Yes! Yes.. Please”. His cock twitches as he begs for Hyunjin’s mouth.

You position yourself between Minho’s legs and take hold of his cock again. How would Hyunjin give head? You have no idea. Minho isn’t fully hard yet, so sink your mouth down over him, taking him all in your mouth.

Minho moans in approval as you continue to gently suck and pull his cock with you mouth until he is rock hard.

“Hyunjin likes having your cock in his mouth.” You hum. “He looks so good sucking you off like this.” you do your very best to give Minho the best blow job of his life - as Hyunjin not as y/n.

Minho starts to breath faster. This is exciting for him. you want to keep playing this game. You want to please him.

You circle your tongue around Minho’s tip, tasting his pre-cum, before sinking back down the shaft.

“Oh fuck! This feels so good, Hyun - ”

“That’s right, Minho. Hyunjin is doing so well isn’t he?” you purr between motions.

Minho seems to be in his own world, he’s actually imagining you as Hyunjin. If you're honest it’s turning you on.

“Mmmm...aaah” he's getting noisy, which is a far cry from earlier on when he was so conscientiousness, diligent and so silent for most of it. You're loving watching Minho let go, lose control.

He whines and whimpers and begs for Hyunjin to keep going. You can see he is starting to come undone as he cries for Hyunjin to take him to the stars.

You want Hyunjin to please him.

You slip your mouth off of his cock and reach for the coconut oil. Minho cries out as though he’s been abandoned. “Hyunjin… please.”

“Minho?” You say timidly. “Hyunjin wants to ride your cock. Would that be okay?”

Minho tenses up at those words and hisses through his teeth. “P-please-" is all he can muster.

“Can he? You need to say it Minho.” You urge firmly.

“Please.. Hyunjin.. Fuck.. I need to be inside you.”

“Okay… it’s okay, Minho. Hyunjin will sort you out. He wants to take care of you.”

Minho sounds like he’s on the verge of tears, and you think he is going to come at just the thought of being ridden by Hyunjin.

“Minho? Hyunjin needs you to help stretch him open. Can you help him get ready so he take your cock?” You shimmy back to Minho’s side poking your ass towards him. You take his hand and pour some oil in it and direct his fingers to your ass.

Minho begins to press on and circle your asshole, much like he did earlier that night, and it doesn’t take him long to be working two fingers in and out of you. It’s hard to stay quiet but you don’t let your moans escape. You don’t want to distract Minho from his fantasy.

“That’s it, Minho.” you say. Fuck, his fingers feel so good that you rock back on his hands. You take his cock back in your hand and resume stroking it while you're being fingered.

“Hyunjin needs just one more finger.” you pant. It’s getting hard to suppress the sounds of pleasure.

Minho works another finger into you, stretching you open. You already feel so full like you're going to be torn in two, how are you going to fit his dick inside?

An orgasm approaches. Not yet, you tell yourself. “Hyunjin is ready for your cock now.” you announce.

Minho removes his fingers leaving you feeling empty. Hyunjin's going to be a lucky man if he ever experiences what Minho can do with his fingers.

You straddle Minho and pour a generous amount of oil over his cock. You hover over him, and holding his cock behind you, you guide him to your entrance. You haven’t had anal in a long time and you hope you can do this as gracefully as you want to. You want Minho to really feel like it's Hyunjin he's fucking.

Minho’s cock presses against your rim as you begin to sink yourself down onto it. The tip slips in fairly easily. There’s not a lot of resistance. You've really slicked up his cock, and Minho really knows how to work a hole.

He sucks a breath between his teeth and tenses his stomach muscles. “Fuck… Hyunjin… Oh God.” He pants.

You exhale slowly as you sink a little further down his cock. It’s so much more than a few fingers and you take a moment to adjust. It’s a mixture of a burning sensation, being stretched as far open as you can possibly imagine whilst being filled so fucking deep that your eyes might get poked out.

It’s glorious. You want more.

Eventuallly, you push yourself down all the way so Minho is fully inside of you.

You catch your breath. “Minho? Does Hyunjin feel good?” you manage.

“Hyunjin…” Minho grips the sheets with his hands in desperation. “Please… please… please… I need you to fuck me.”

You begin to slowly slide yourself up and down Minho’s cock. Just a little at first. As you pick up the rhythm the intensity builds. It feels almost unbearable, but you're full of lust and you're on a mission.

“Hyunjin thinks you feel so fucking good.” you growl as you bounce up and down harder. Your cunt clenches as you're being fucked in the ass.

“He looks so good riding your pretty cock.” you pant.

Minho has well and truly lost control. He isn’t even trying to hold in the primal sounds now. You allow yourself to moan now too, hoping it won’t distract him. You fucking want to scream but you don’t want to bring Minho out of his fantasy.

You rock your hips back and forth, rolling them so that your clit rubs against his lower belly. The wetness from your pussy covers his body and allows you to slide back hard against his cock. The angle of the thrusts reaching parts of you that have never been reached.

“Fuck!” you cry out. Everything that can be clenched clenches, and your orgasm hits you like a ton of bricks. Waves upon waves of relief wash over you.

“Fuck… Hyun - ” Minho cries out now. “I’m so close.”

You compose yourself and try to stay in character. “That’s right, Minho. Come for Hyunjin.” you urge him on as you pick up the pace again.

“Hyunjin needs your cum.” You pull yourself up off his cock and slam yourself back down.

Minho cries out.

“He wants you to come so far up inside of him… he wants to know your cum is inside him long after this… Can you do that? Can-”

Minho bucks his hips up against you, and pumps his cock violently into you.

“Hyunjin!” He cries out as he comes and you can feel the warmth of his release deep inside you.

You take your time to catch your breath before sliding off of Minho and curling back up alongside him. You quickly find a towel and place it behind you to catch any cum that leaks out.

Well that was wild!

Minho is shaking and panting like he has a fever, as you reach up and remove the blindfold. His eyes are watery and his cheeks are flushed.

He finds your gaze and smiles. “Thank you.” He whispers.

You return the smile and snuggle in close. You both lay there for what feels like an eternity.

“Y/n?” he asks eventually. “Can we...Would it be okay to keep this just between us?”

“Of course, Minho.” you promise. “It’ll remain in the sanctity of the Boudoir.”

You hold each other as you drift off to sleep dreaming of other people.

tag list : open

@rylea08 @channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @kangnina @3rachasdomesticbanana @palindrome969 @xxkissesforchanniexx @chuuchuu1224 @fun-fanfics @wolfennracha @rhonnie23 @jisunglyricist @strayywayy @rixenluv @piscesrising01 @lunearta @shltsnglggles @lilbabiebunni @jiminssluttyminx @armystay89 @krayzieestay @stellasays45 @hxnnielk @yaorzu-blog

[sepublic]

When discussing the benefits but also the dangers of fantasy in TOH, it makes me consider how this ties into Belos’ bigotry, religious superiority, white supremacy, etc. Because I see how in the parallels to Luz and the depictions of his witch hunts as a ‘game’ he played as a kid, the show is getting into the thought process behind white supremacy and the like; Specifically, by suggesting that it comes from the same core principle of “I was born special, I’m a hero.”

Because think of it this way; I was born inherently better than others, it’s in my blood, I have to defeat evils? These aren’t unlike what white supremacists believe about themselves. After all, TOH is coming off of Harry Potter, which is criticized for the “It’s in his blood” trope with the protagonist.

This is foiled by Luz, who wants to believe at first that she’s special and things will automatically come to her because of it, but then Eda has to explain; Sorry kid, but if you want things you have to work for and earn them, just like anyone else. Some things can be attributed to luck on Luz’s part, but it’s not as if she’s blind to this and saying it’s ‘destiny’ (unlike someone else), plus in general we all have a bit of privilege in some ways.

And again, that ties back into Christian white supremacy, particularly the Puritans, who believed their colony would be a "City upon a Hill." That it’s their goal to enlighten people, or else root out the evildoers; You can see how this evolves into evangelicalism in the U.S. and the right’s obsession with anything new as satanic, even if it’s something like Elvis Presley or Pokemon (which Dana grew up with, coincidentally), or more recently, furries.

(No really, this actually happened I kid you not. It seems like an exaggeration but I swear it genuinely happened and it truly is absurd that it did.)

Anyhow I think that’s important, because it’s not just the message that Christian white supremacy is bad, it’s why people even believe and buy into these things to begin with. A lot of alt-right 4channers and the like fall into these rabbit holes because they feel cheated out of the implicit, unconscious promises of white supremacy and feel as if they’re owed something; So obviously women and PoC, the queers, the ‘diversity hires’ and affirmative action, this is what’s cheated them.

And you can see the connection between white christian ideas and how that can translate into a lot of fantasy stories, hence “It’s in your blood” and “It’s destiny,” as well as Isekai Colonialism; The idea that what if another world and its inhabitants just existed for you. These tropes are inspired by outdated ideas that Christian white supremacy, an outdated belief, has plenty examples of and sometimes even inspired.

And this is why it’s important to engage with these things critically and question them… But at the same time, Luz is still allowed to love Azura, it’s just about maintaining a critical eye and being self-aware of what you internalize and don’t. Hence her learning to differentiate reality from fiction and not become delusional; Hence King doing the same!

By making that connection, it does explain this type of bigotry by framing it in a way that viewers can actually relate to, even if they also condemn it just as much, if not moreso after understanding. It ties even the genocide with tropes like the dragon slayer, the endless horde of monsters you don’t ever have to feel bad about or question killing, or the DnD Evil Race; Which on their own, these stories aren’t necessarily in advocacy for genocide of course, some of them are just inspired by previous ones without making that connection. And most people know not to let it affect how they see reality.

Because it’s one thing to let yourself be petty and find catharsis against a genuine, extreme example who has gone out of their way to hurt you (those definitely exist, alas); But it’s another to actively search for people to feel angry towards, amidst groups unrelated to you, and provoke them until they give you that ‘justification’. Because you’re not responding to anything, you are the aggressor; In essence, you are performing a witch hunt, in a need to feel like a hero enacting righteous judgment.

Because you’re desperate for the power of putting someone else beneath you, which is what the mundane bully does, out of the belief this conversely translates into you being above others; Again, the ‘chosen one’ beliefs, the Christian white supremacy. And suddenly you better understand why Evangelicals raged over something as innocuous as the Pokemon games that Dana grew up with, back when they first came out.

So Luz understands; She does understand, better than some people, in fact. She understood the Collector. But just because she understands, doesn't necessarily mean Luz approves or excuses; She still has every right in condemning Belos because she never let herself go that far, and this behavior would be condemned even by those trying to make up for it; It’s why they try to make up for it. And the fiction Luz wants to happen for herself (which isn’t the same as the fictions one enjoys) isn't centered around there being hidden bad actors amongst the populace to constantly root out; Luz is only going to react, not act, and consistently, predominantly sees the best in others.

In the end, Belos latched onto Caleb marrying Evelyn, and then the Grimwalkers, and finally Luz, as a way of a proving a point to himself; That wiping out witches WAS in service of humanity, it would actually help them, by showing how he 'rescued' a human from temptation. I'm sure he genuinely loved Caleb, but in an extreme form of Luz's Wing it like Witches, at some point he subsumed Caleb's input and agency to instead make him into a docile trope to make decisions for.

And when Caleb didn't go along with that story, pointed out how it didn't fit the reality of the situation; Philip killed him! His priorities shifted from doing it for Caleb's sake, for the sake of HIS fantasy; He saw an opportunity to live out the Witch Hunter story and it mattered more to him than actually helping someone, or realizing in relief he didn't have to.

Hence the Titan saying Belos "fears what he can't control" due to "his need to be the hero in his own delusion." It’s a quote applicable to real life conservatives who look for things to outlaw, because hating makes them feel like righteous saviors; Remember Pokemon? Gotta save people from themselves and any potential temptations… Belos couldn't control Caleb, and the Grimwalkers? Belos' way of re-attempting his 'side quest' to again, prove that what he's doing is for the sake of humanity, in the absence of actual humans to work with.

Not that he cares about this for fear of hurting others, but because he fears it means he isn't the special hero. Note that Belos doesn't feel guilt over any witches and demons he killed in For the Future, it's telling; As is the assumption that even if he was treated with hostility when arriving in both Gravesfield and the isles, Belos still understood that murdering the colony was wrong… Yet ignores this lesson when it comes to demons because of hypocrisy, choosing to go after the world that was canonically accepting and would be much harder to attack.

And when Luz shows up, Belos abandons Hunter (showing how much he really cared) because Luz is a real human to save, even if she's technically a queer girl of color; But if you remember how Americans kidnapped Native children and assimilated them into Christian society and culture, it actually makes perfect sense because it's another form of genocide. And it's just as racist and insincere as the murder. And just like many homophobic Christians, Belos selectively chooses what to apply from the Bible because he knows it speaks contrary to what he does and he fears that, it’s something he can’t control despite his attempts to.