#and these things aren't even subtle

[blvevelvett]

Idk this fandom mischaracterize both Zhongli and Xiao to a point that annoys me to no end

Like...

They see Zhongli as a selfish Archon (???) as if he didn't rule Liyue and guided the nation by basically holding its hand for more than 3 thousand years...

And they think Xiao only protects Liyue because of his "contract" with Zhongli, as if Xiao's whole story isn't about letting go of the past because of the countless good things he did to Liyue to compensate the evil he's done...

And the thing that annoys me most is that some people don't even know Xiao had a previous master before Zhongli? Like???? That is explicitly written in Xiao's character story, it's not even up to interpretation

[lyxchen]

Okay so I've heard this said a bunch of times and I'm gonna admit I thought like that too for a while but no, Gi-hun did not win the games because he was lucky. A lot of people think that's how he won because he never killed anybody but that's really not the point. Gi-hun won the games because a) he's smart and is able to look at things from a different angle, b) because he is a good and kind person who also believes in others and c) because of the goodness and care get got back from other people.

In the first game he survived because Ali saved him and that wasn't luck, that was Ali being a good person and helping somebody not get killed. Ali could've not caught him, let him die, he didn't even know Gi-hun at all at that point and he put himself in more danger too by having to hold on to a person while standing completely still but he still saved Gi-hun because Ali is a good person.

In the Dalgona game he quite literally Was Not Lucky. He decided to go with the umbrella which is the worst shape to pick and he probably would have died if he hadn't looked at the game in a different way and decided to change his strategy. Gi-hun is smart. He is also optimistic and so he tried something new and found a different way to beat that game.

In the third game he survived because he was smart and kind enough to listen to Il-nam. The other people in their group dismissed him as just an old man speaking but Gi-hun didn't and that way they had a good strategy to beat the other team. The same goes for him listening to Sang-woo's idea of running three steps and then stopping, which ultimately was what saved them. His group also chose him as their leader (who, as Il-nam said, needs to not seem weak or loose hope because then the whole team is doomed). His team trusted in him and his optimism and they were right to do so.

In the marbles game he won because he was once again kind and decided to team up with Il-nam and also because in the end Il-nam decided to "sacrifice himself" for Gi-hun because he showed him kindness before. Yes Il-nam didn't actually die but he also knew that Gi-hun had cheated and still let him continue on to the next game, probably because Gi-hun had been good and kind and caring towards him before, even though he really didn't have to be. Gi-hun also didn't know this but by teaming up with Il-nam he inadvertently ensured that Il-nam had a lot more fun in the games than he would have had, had everybody just ignored to "old, fragile man". Gi-hun was good to Il-nam throughout all the games and it ended up saving him in the marbles game.

In the fifth game it's only some small moments as Gi-hun isn't really involved in the game because he's the last number but still it wasn't just luck. First of all he was kind enough to give the number 1 to the player that asked him for it. Yes, that number was bad but he didn't know that and had he been selfish enough to say no to that other player he wouldn't have survived. Being the last to play in any game can end up being bad for you, still he decided to give up the number he picked because the other player asked him to. Secondly he also survived that game because Sae-byeok was kind enough to remind him of which glass tile to step on after he had forgotten which one it was. It's only small but she didn't have to tell him and still she did. Sae-byeok btw is also good to him because before that he was good to her and protected her (even though he was angry at her at first) and that way he was able to gain her trust.

Lastly he won the Squid Game because Gi-hun was kind to Sang-woo and because Sang-woo deep down was still a good person. There were probably many reasons as to why Sang-woo decided to kill himself in the end but part of it, I'm sure, was also because Gi-hun was a good friend to him. I mean Gi-hun was even willing to give up all the money and go back home with nothing gained if it meant that Sang-woo didn't have to die and would be able to come home with him. Gi-hun deserved that win and that money and in the end Sang-woo knew that. He also knew that Gi-hun would make sure to take care of Sang-woo's mother and that he wouldn't just take all the money for himself because Sang-woo knew that Gi-hun is a good person. (Gi-hun technically also won the Squid Game because he was good at it which is also him being smart)

So in conclusion and I hope y'all haven't stopped reading yet: Gi-hun didn't win the games because he was lucky. He didn't just sit around doing nothing and won anyways. He won because he was smart but even more importantly he won because of the kindness and goodness that exists in humans and that is especially present in him. He won because he had empathy, because people trusted him, because he got back from them what he gave to them first. He never killed anyone and we can clearly see that he Could Never kill anyone in those games but that's not his weakness. Just because he didn't let himself get corrupted and turned into what the games wanted him to turn into doesn't mean he won because of luck. Him not playing by those subtle, hidden rules that are made to force him to be bad, to not care about others and to give up his kindness actually means he was better than the games. He won because he didn't let them turn him into a monster. They tried really hard and they failed and that's how he won!! But also on top of that he also won because he isn't the only good person in this show. He also won because other people helped him, were kind to him and gave a shit about him. Each and every person that helped Gi-hun didn't have to do that. They all could have not helped him, Ali could have not caught him, Sae-byeok could have not told him which one was the correct glass tile, hell, she could have Lied to him about it and the only difference it would have made for the other players would have been them being one more dead person closer to winning all that money. But that's really not how humans are and act which is why all these people helped Gi-hun, helped each other in small or big ways and in the end his own kindness and the kindness that exists in other people is what lead to Gi-hun winning. That's not luck. That humans being good

[byanyan]

the true way to tell that byan is genuinely furious is when they start actually pronouncing the 'g's at the ends of words

[eyeballplanets]

obviously i'm known for my interest in how one viltrumite has changed. but everything has changed. it's i have never seen fans of an adaptation be so resistant to noticing changes.

according to the fandom anissa is younger and browner and subordinate on accident. conquest’s tone takes on a violent intimacy on accident. debbie has lingering resentment for nolan calling her a pet for on accident. nothing in this show has any meaning. its just a sequence of random events, written by animals on typewriters. obviously it's a 1:1 adaptation, that's why in season 2 mark befriended a high school student named chad and damien was a one-off gag character!

[afniel]

Realizing that I went and wrote a bunch of intentionally aro relationships and my partner was like, "Idk, it seemed like normal relationships to me," and I was like, "I mean yeah it's not that different from ours, I guess, I was kind of going for 45° off from 'normal' romance," and they're like, "Okay, but ours is also pretty much like that," and I'm like, "Yeah, true," and now I'm like, damn hold up, are we both some kinda arospec and THIS is how we figure it out? Because I wrote a long-ass fic about intentionally queer-coded (among other things) robots? Life is weird, man.

Like I've been prone to extreme long-term crushes on a very few (mostly unattainable) people over the years, but I wouldn't have known what to do with them even if they worked out, and cough my ex was not even one of them. I just kind of assumed I was failing to feel a thing I was totally supposed to feel, there, and quite a lot of that relationship emotionally was me going, "Okay, I care like This, but I think I'm supposed to care like That? I'm pretty sure he cares That way. I'm not sure I do, but I mean, there's really only one way*, so maybe I'm just misreading this and actually I do care like That, I'm just bad at it."

*This was me being very incorrect, it turns out. There's all kinds of ways to love someone. It's a very inadequate and nonspecific word.

When I confessed my feelings (which I'd been sitting on for a year) to my partner, their reaction wasn't to be particularly romantic about it. In fact they told me they'd help me move to California if I wanted to. And after I got over my initial confusion of being kissed on the forehead (which is also not super romantic as a gesture and I couldn't decide how to even read that so I kinda skipped over even trying for a while), I was thinking, Awesome, that is a yes. They have promised to assist me with difficult stuff, and said nothing at all about emotions, because that's not a big deal anyway. The important thing is that I can rely on them and vice versa. Cool. We are basically together forever now. Which ended up being true. I just never moved out and now it's like 13 years later, go figure. But that's not what I think actually passes for reciprocating feelings for most people? Worked great for me though.

Anyway I feel like I have accidentally learned something about myself, lol. I guess romance is okay I guess, like it's not repulsive, but seriously, it's WAY more satisfying to me to guess someone else's Quiplash answer because you know they know you would think it's fucking funny, and you do, and because you think it's funny and you're well aware they know your type of humor and you know theirs and that you wouldn't expect them to use "cum" as an answer because that's not usually how they roll, so of course that is the only answer they can possibly give, which is instantly evident to both of you with no conversation whatsoever on the topic. When you got just one brain cell and it's quantum entangled with their just one brain cell so you have a lot of null discussions where nobody has to say anything but it's fully understood anyway, that's The Dream, if you ask me. And like I don't really think that's romantic by the usual definition. You can have that with friends and family, too. But that is what it turns out I prioritize in relationships, which I'm starting to feel like isn't what the majority of people are here for?

TFW it's hard to tell because I've been assuming I'm totally alloromantic so everything I experience must be typical totally alloromantic stuff too, but I'm starting to think it isn't maybe? But how do I even tell, this is like being colorblind, lmao.

[marklikely]

on further reflection maybe it isn't out of character that i liked the kens over the barbies when a lot of the joke is how the barbies are all blandly nice and hypercompetent which as you may know is like my single most uninterested gender dynamic for fictional characters

[wild-at-mind]

I get why people like the whole queer existence is resistance thing. I don't personally, because I think it puts a tonne of intracommunity pressure to exist in the 'right' way, I.e. the way that is 'radical' to the person currently scrutinising you. As a person with OCD that manifests in self scrutiny that I have to constantly concentrate on to avoid it becoming self hatred, I'm never going to be a fan of that. I kind of feel this way about any kind of assimilation conversation with regards to queerness really. I think it's an important conversation within irl communities who already care for each other- who shows up for others outside of their own interests and who doesn't, etc. But the internet makes things so impersonal and cold. It encourages people to make very serious snap judgements about others who they don't even know, and to encourage others to believe that about them. None of these people are in community together in any meaningful sense, or they wouldn't treat each other so ungenerously.

Anyway I had a bit of a realisation earlier- I think we have to tell ourselves our existence is inherently radical all the time because we're always getting the subtle message from our community and the wider activism community that having a good time or enjoying yourself is somehow bad, or insulting to people in dire straits. But instead of challenging that idea we say no it's OK because I'm doing activism simply by being here. I think it's fine to feel that way and in many ways existing as a marginalised person really is radical. I just want to make sure we aren't internalising the idea that we can't ever be happy or having a fun frivolous time without justifying it, and passing that idea along to others without meaning to.

[aeide-thea]

the thing abt this website (and probably other websites as well) is that like. posters will complain that readers get mad at posts for not encompassing Everyone's Experiences, when they were just talking about their own experiences

and it's like. okay but did you phrase your post in the universalizing second person or.

cue janet-with-cactus gifset.

[swan--writes]

y'know

i haven't been lurking enough to know if this point has been made, but i find it interesting that the pll og sin showrunners chose to give their working class, likely underfunded school a decent enough dance program that their instructor calls herself 'Madame,' treats her students like shit, and nobody questions it bc she clearly gets results

and i find it fascinating that her name is Mme. Giry - a character who (depending on the actor ofc) is firm with her pupils but has a soft spot for the protagonist whom she still refrains from protecting in deference to a phantom she is aware exists and whose backstory she herself delivers in the show

(the strength of the character would more indicate the ALW version of the character than Leroux's, and if the showrunners are going with the '04 film version of the character (and i'm guessing they would, given all the references to other films in the show), then she very much knows about the phantom and is not particularly conflicted about endangering anybody)

but she had nothing to do with the archie or principal clanton reveals

so like

why name her Mme. Giry and feature her so prominently if the reference wasn't gonna go anywhere?

i don't think the showrunners misunderstand how references work. they handled all the others just fine - or at least the ones i understood

[sinkuna]

୨୧ — Sukuna watched as you tended to the herbs just outside his temple, your movements carrying that same gentleness as always. You hummed softly while working, a melody that seemed to make even the weeds lean towards you. The swell of your stomach was prominent now, a visible reminder of how you had changed everything, and something in him always urged him to be closer to you- a possessiveness that had only grown over the past few months. 

He hated it. But above all, he hated the way his curse energy would flow around the surrounding area, like a protective shroud meant solely for you… And he refused to acknowledge how his multiple eyes would track every subtle shift in your expression…

"Ryomen! Look at this one!" your voice held nothing but genuine delight as you held up a particularly vibrant herb. 

"Tch. Still wasting your time with these worthless weeds?" he scoffed, but his eyes never left your form. He took notice of the way your fingers carefully caressed the delicate thing and the small smile that tugged at your lips, and it was only then did he realize that your hair had grown a little longer... 

"One day," he heard you murmur, your voice carrying in the evening breeze, "you might need these."  

The mere suggestion that he, the king of curses, might need such mundane remedies should have enraged him, and to a certain degree it did, but he was so transfixed on your fingers, the same fingers that always dared to trace his black markings, that his retort lacked it’s usual venom. 

"Someone like me has no use for such worthless things." the mouth on his stomach grinned, "You are aware of the difference between us, aren't you? Or has that brat inside of you softened that brain of yours?"

His gaze flickered to your stomach, where his child grew stronger each day.

That’s when you turned to him with that damn smile, it was like freshly fallen snow, untouched and pure… And it always awakened two warring instincts within him. The first was to destroy you, to corrupt, and to taint that purity until nothing remained and you were left bloody in his arms… And then there was the second, the newer, more terrifying one that made him want to preserve it at all costs…

"Oh? No use for such worthless things?" you tilted your head playfully, reminding him of that first day in the forest where he met you, "Hmm~ Is that why you still wear my scarf? If you have no use for such worthless things, then I suppose you wouldn’t mind if I took it back."

The memory of how you had wrapped it around him had been burned into his memory... like a fucking curse. How you approached him in the forest while bodies lay scattered around him, your eyes full of concern rather than terror. He didn’t know at the time the men he slaughtered were after you- didn’t know that his fun little killing spree would leave him stuck with you like a thorn in a wound. 

A thorn he couldn't be bothered with removing...

"You’re bleeding," you had said then, as if he were some ordinary injured traveler. Before he could slice that pretty head of yours clean off, you had already removed your scarf, standing on your tiptoes, tongue sticking out in concentration as you tended to the wound and wrapped it around his neck even though it would heal in moments…   

His four arms hung beside him at your audacity, as you dared to care for the King of Curses.

"It’s not much," you had whispered, "but it should help keep the wound clean until it heals" then you had smiled- that same one you wore now. 

So lost in the memory, Sukuna hadn’t even noticed you were now standing before him, reaching out towards him with the intent of tugging your scarf free from his body and he reacted. Faster than he should have been and snatched your hand away before you could even graze the fabric. 

"Do. Not." 

His eyes were narrowed, and his voice was low, a growl that echoed across the temple grounds, but you had become immune to the sound. His other hand unconsciously rose to touch the now worn fabric at his neck, it still carried traces of your scent after all this time.

"Watch yourself, woman. I could still slice that fragile neck of yours. Devour you where you stand. Don't be mistaken, you're not safe just because you're carrying my child."

"Mmhmm," you hummed, entirely unafraid as you leaned into him so that you could place a chaste kiss against his jawline, "Is that why you let me sleep in your bed? Why you allow only i to say your real name... And why you-" 

"Be silent." he spat, and yet his grip on your hand loosened, allowing your fingers to slip through his and intertwine, "Insolent creature…" but his other hands were merciful as they settled on your waist.

"If you wanted to kill me, Ryomen, you would have done so a long time ago." 

"You think too highly of yourself. You're a means to an end, a tool."

Your smile never wavered for a second, "Is that so? Then I must be a very special tool. I don't believe anyone else would get away with the things I do."

"Foolish little lamb." He let out a low grunt, pressing his forehead to yours in a gesture that had become as natural as breathing, "I will admit," his lips curled into a smirk as he pulled you flush against his body, "you've made the last few months a little less boring. But if I tire of your presence, I won't hesitate to kill you." 

"Your foolish woman." You corrected, and with a soft chuckle, you pulled back slightly so that you could cup his face, "And you won’t kill me before the baby is born, right? That would be a shame."

Sukuna scowled, "Don't test me."

"Never." you promised sweetly, but he knew you’d continue to do so regardless.

The King of Curses would never admit it, but the thought of you dead- the thought of anyone daring to harm you or his child was enough to awaken a a whole new kind of bloodlust, unlike anything he had felt in centuries. He would paint the lands red with the blood of any who tried, would hang their entrails from the highest trees as a warning, would burn the world to ash before letting harm come to what was his.

Prt 3.

[lacyblades]

౨ৎ roommate!sukuna is, deep down, probably the biggest, most lovesick fool you know. he's also a massive pervert. and since he’s utterly shit at actually saying how he feels, he defaults to being a complete fucking creep in ways no normal person ever would.

he likes to stare, for starters. you can feel it whenever you walk past him – his eyes lock onto the curve of your hip, your ass, whatever part of you happens to be passing.

he tracks the sway of your hips like a predator, leaning back against the wall, maybe dragging his tongue over his bottom lip. he's not even subtle about it. if you catch him, his gaze doesn't waver.

"what?" he'll snort, all arrogance. "someone's gotta appreciate the view. consider it a public service." heat flares on your cheeks, but you just shoot him a glare, refusing to give him more reaction than that.

sukuna also likes to test boundaries with your belongings. you always thought it was weird that laundry was the one chore he never bitched about. sometimes, he even offers to do yours, which should’ve been the first red flag.

inevitably, he'll accidentally mix things up, making you sift through his boxers and worn shirts when you’re just trying to find your own stuff. then, later, you’ll find him lounging on the couch, casually inspecting a pair of your underwear you didn't even realize was missing.

"sukuna!" you hiss, snatching them back. his fingers brush yours, a fleeting contact he clearly savors.

"nice pair," he nods, eyes glinting with amusement at your blush. "i like the cartoon mice. don't blush. i'm sure they look great on you. or, off." and no, he doesn't bother mumbling that last part.

he also just happens to be wherever you are in the apartment. convenient for him, annoying as hell for you. if you're cooking, he'll suddenly need something from the cupboard right above your head, pressing his body flush against your back in a half-assed excuse of reaching.

he presses close enough you can feel the unmistakable ridge of him against your lower back through his thin sweats.

jesus, is he hard? you think, trying not to jolt away as he lingers just a second too long. (he probably thinks it's your fault; your ass just feels that good against him.)

more often than not, he pads around the apartment fresh from the shower, wearing nothing but a towel slung dangerously low on his hips. hair damp, ink stark against damp skin, water droplets tracing paths down the hard planes of his chest and abs…

god, those abs. enough to make your brain short-circuit right in the middle of a work zoom call. yes, zoom, because he has zero issues barging into your room half-naked, pretending he absolutely needed something that couldn't possibly be in there.

then, there are the nights you bring guys over. not often, but often enough to wind him up tight. the walls are paper-thin, your room right next to his. hearing you is unavoidable.

sukuna scoffs into his pillow, knuckles white where he grips the sheets. as if that panting loser could make you feel half as good as he could. he grits his teeth, the sounds filtering through the wall – your sounds – a raw torment.

closing his eyes, he forces the image: not that pathetic asshole touching you, but him. his cock sliding deep inside you, feeling that tight clench instead of the friction of his own fist. he imagines those choked whimpers and sharp cries are for him, ripped from your throat by his touch, his length filling you up.

he clenches his jaw, trying to stay quiet even as his hips start an involuntary rhythm against the mattress. fuck that, this is his place too. why should he have to be quiet when you clearly aren't bothering?

slick pre-cum coats his fingers as his eyes squeeze shut. his wrist picks up speed, jerking down his hardening dick, pulling hushed, rough groans past his lips.

it never takes long when it’s the thought of you, even with the distraction of that rat squeaking alongside you. he tries to time it, always tries to match his peak with the crescendo he hears through the wall.

a ragged groan leaves from his throat, followed by your name, broken and low, "oh, fucking hell," thick ropes of heat spurt over his knuckles, coating his lower stomach and thighs in sticky white.

his breathing slowly evens out, chest rising and falling as he tips his head back against the headboard, spent.

and hey, you're definitely not an idiot. sukuna might be, though. as you finally shove the latest disappointment out your door, you allow yourself a faint smile. your pervert roommate isn't nearly as quiet as he thinks he is.

besides, can he really not tell the difference between genuine moans and the over-the-top, fake-as-fuck performance you've been putting on lately?

one of these days, you hope he'll finally get the hint. or just grow a pair and do something about it. if you're going to be living with a creep, you'd rather live with a creep who actually has the balls to make a move.

[morallysuperiorlips]

10 Ways to Ensure Your Villain's Evil Monologuing Dialogue is as Unsettling as Possible!

1.) Make sure you're mixing body language with the words themselves: You can have your villain saying the most twisted shit, but if they're just standing there like a cardboard cutout, their words probably aren't going to hit as hard. Have them touch your protag. Have them toy with a weapon as if they're going to use it. Have them pace. Have them put together the blood ritual they're ranting about. Keep them moving.

2.) Have them use personal knowledge as a tool: Does your villain have some deep dark dirt on your protag? Don't let that all go in one swoop. Let them hint at it in drops before they open the dam. Maybe they use that knowledge as a bargaining tool to get an upper hand, or use it to send the trapped protag into a frenzy because they love to watch them scream.

3.) When it comes to threats, certainty is key: A threat is a threat, but there's nothing like a threat being spoken as if the villain knows it's going to happen. Whether your villain has already caught your protag, or is in the process of doing so, everything they say they want to see happen to your protag needs to come with absolute certainty. Almost as if it's a certain warning, and not just something they’re saying to be scary.

4.) Contradictions are your friend: Nothing indicates a warped villainous mind more than some juicy contradictions. Your villain might be talking about how they're going to flay your protag's hide after catching them in their dungeon, only to throw in a subtle "but, you're probably safer here with me." Find ways to toss in twisted contradictions that also underline the crazy shit they might be saying.

5.) Mess with syntax: Unsettling dialogue calls for unsettling structure. Incomplete sentences, unforeseen pauses, longwinded explanations broken up by more unforeseen pauses. Whatever it is, keep the rhythm offbeat. Don't give your reader a chance to be able to tell what's coming.

6.) Expectations? Subvert those: Your protag and even your readers might be suspecting one thing from your villain, so throw them a curveball and hit them with the complete opposite. Perhaps you've reached a point in your story where it seems like the villain might kill your protag on sight. But no, have your villain mention exactly why they aren't going to do that, and why they want to wait it out.

7.) Mix quiet confidence and loud assertion: Some might say that the silent seether is scarier, while others might agree that the sudden explosive type takes the bigger unsettling prize. In my opinion, you can really capitalize on the eeriness of villain dialogue by tapping into both. A villain that speaks on with refined confidence before very suddenly exploding, without much warning, can really power up the dread behind their words.

8.) Sometimes, ambiguity is better than being straightforward: Whether it's obvious that your villain has a lot of tricks up their sleeves--or not--leaving things to the imaginations of your protag, and subsequently, your readers is great for building dread. You can use dialogue to make it clear that they're up to something, but never make them fully disclose what that is. They might show it instead of tell it, or it might just never happen. Either way, it'll likely have everyone looking over their shoulders.

9.) There might be times where silence says everything: You might be worried about penning the correct verbiage for your villain's big evil speech, but sometimes, silence speaks wonders. When used correctly, a long pause, or a bout of silence after your protag has said their piece can build a sense of uneasiness more than them actually speaking would have.

10.) Find ways for your villain to mirror the hero: A monologuing villain is better when they're throwing your hero's values and beliefs back in their face. A hero that believes in mercy? Well, have your villain talk about how they'll make them beg for it. A hero that believes in the greater good? Have your villain talk about their idea of a greater good.

As always, GO WRITE SOMETHING TODAY! <3

[luv-lock]

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤDEVIL IN YOUR EYESㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Dante Sparda x Fem Reader

☆⁠ HEADCANON : How Would He Be When He's Obsessed?

☆⁠ NOTES : English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

It started with a glance.

You were just some random girl who walked into Devil May Cry looking for a job—maybe organizing the mess, answering calls, anything, didn’t matter. Your voice was too sweet, your hair too messy, your smile too damn genuine. You had no idea who he was. No idea what he could do. You called him “sir” with that soft tone like he was some regular guy. That alone should’ve been harmless.

But you lingered.

He remembers the way your fingers wrapped around the handle of the broom that first day like it was a damn holy weapon. He watched you sweep through blood, broken glass, and demon guts without flinching. That was the moment. That was when it twisted inside him—tight and hot and uncomfortable. A feeling he hadn’t had in a long time. Maybe ever.

He started watching you.

Not in a pervy way—at least, that’s what he told himself. He was just… curious. Protective. That’s normal, right? You were a human, after all. Fragile. Breakable. And the world was full of monsters that looked human enough until they ripped out your spine.

He tells himself that’s the only reason he trails behind you when you walk home. That’s the only reason he’s memorized your schedule, your favorite diner, the way you tap your foot when you lie. You have a tell. That’s adorable. He could eat that up.

And he would.

If he wasn’t so fucking stupid about this whole thing.

Dante flirts with everyone.

That’s just how he is. But with you, it’s different. With you, the teasing comes out a little slower, a little deeper. It’s not just about getting a reaction—it’s about earning one. He wants to see you flustered, wants to see you annoyed, wants to see you laugh at his dumb jokes even when they’re older than sin. And when you do laugh? He wants to burn the sound into his soul.

You caught him staring more than once.

Sometimes you’d smile.

Sometimes you’d look concerned.

That second one scares the shit out of him.

He starts getting possessive.

Subtle at first—he’ll throw his jacket over your chair before anyone else can sit near you. He’ll step between you and strangers just a little too fast. He’ll “accidentally” rip a guy’s arm out of its socket for brushing your shoulder too hard on a bad night. You joke that he’s being dramatic.

He’s not joking.

Dante's not used to wanting something this soft. This real. He knows what to do with lust, violence, revenge. He doesn’t know what to do with the way his chest hurts when you talk about another guy. Or when you say you’re going out alone. Or when you tell him you think demons aren't all bad.

He is one.

But you don’t know that. Not yet.

The obsession gets worse.

You start seeing little things.

A photo of you on his desk—one you didn’t know he had.

Your favorite snacks in his fridge—even though you never mentioned them.

The demon that broke into your apartment dying before you even called for help.

Your spare key vanishing.

Finding his coat on your bed when you swear you locked every door.

He’s trying to play it cool, but he’s unraveling.

If anyone hurts you, he’ll kill them. No hesitation. Human or demon.

If you leave him, he might lose his damn mind.

He knows it. He’s self-aware enough to admit he’s fucked up in the head.

But he also believes—truly, deeply—that no one else can protect you like he can.

No one else will love you the way he does.

With that brutal, messy, obsessive devotion that borders on worship.

Dante doesn’t say “I love you.”

Not with words.

He says it by throwing himself into hell itself just to make sure you live another day.

He says it by watching you sleep, brushing your hair behind your ear like he’s scared it might hurt you.

He says it when he whispers, “Mine,” under his breath every time he looks at you.

And maybe one day, when it all goes to shit and you see the blood and the truth and the devil in his eyes—

He’ll say it with a gun in one hand, your heart in the other, and a smirk that can’t quite hide how scared he is to lose you.

It become worse.

You haven’t called in two days.

Not even a “Hey, I’m okay,” or your usual “Dante, stop drinking all the milk.”

Nothing.

He tells himself you’re just busy. That you’re fine. That you probably lost your phone. But his gut twists in a way it hasn’t twisted since Vergil last disappeared. It’s that same cold sweat. That same gnawing ache. That whisper in the back of his head that something is wrong.

So he checks. First your apartment. Then your friends. Then the streets.

And when he finds nothing—no trace of you—he doesn’t sleep. Doesn’t eat.

He tears the city apart.

And when he finds you?

You’re with someone else.

Some guy. Handsome enough. Normal-looking.

You’re laughing, holding a drink, leaning into him. Touching his arm.

And Dante snaps.

Not in a violence way.

Not yet.

He stands in the shadows, teeth clenched so tight his jaw cracks. He watches. Waits. Memorizes the guy’s face, his name, his fucking scent. He doesn’t move until you leave—safe, untouched. Then he follows the guy home.

And he makes him disappear.

No blood. No mess. Just… gone.

A whisper in the wind. A body never found. A soul damned quietly.

The next morning, Dante is back at Devil May Cry, sitting at his desk like nothing happened. He offers you your favorite drink. Smiles like he always does. Says, “Hey, you look tired,” and wipes a smudge from your cheek with his thumb.

You don’t know. You can’t know.

You think he’s just being protective. Maybe even sweet.

You don’t see the look in his eyes when you talk about someone else.

You don’t see how he stares at your lips when you say you missed him.

And you definitely don’t see how he’s already made the decision:

If you ever try to leave him, he won’t let you.

He’s not proud of it. He knows it’s sick.

And now that he’s tasted the idea of you?

Your laugh, your kindness, your damn smile?

He’ll burn the world before he lets it slip through his fingers.

“You're mine,” he tells you one night, voice low, a little hoarse, like the words hurt to say.

You laugh. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Big scary Dante. My overprotective guard dog.”

He doesn’t laugh.

He just leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear, and says—

“No, sweetheart. I mean it. You’re mine.”

And this time, the way he says it makes your spine go cold.

— MASTERLIST ☆

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, use or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[hyperlexichypatia]

I've seen basically two response arguments to Kennedy's slurs about autistic people being unable to pay taxes, have a job, play baseball, go on a date, write a poem, or use the toilet.

Both the responses are good and necessary, but I think they're incomplete. The two response arguments are essentially: 1. "That's not true, there are plenty of autistic people who have jobs and go on dates and play baseball," and 2. (largely in response to 1.) "Autistic people deserve acceptance and dignity even if they can't pay taxes or write poetry or use the toilet; people's value isn't determined by their abilities or productivity."

And, again, both of these responses are true and good and necessary. But what I'm not seeing people talk about enough is why Kennedy listed those specific skills, and what he's trying to imply with them. Because, see, when people are reduced to a dehumanized stereotype, "Not everyone is like that dehumanized stereotype" isn't sufficient, and neither is "Even people who are like that dehumanized stereotype deserve respect." The problem is the dehumanization. So let's look at the list of things we supposedly can't do, which Kennedy is using to conjure an image of "Inhuman Unthinking Blob."

Having a job. This is the big one. In American culture, your value, your personhood, is solely dependent on Your Job. Are you a valuable cog in the capitalist machine, or are you a cheap cog in the capitalist machine, or are you so worthless you're not even in the capitalist machine, and therefore have no reason to be alive? So it's good and necessary and important to spell out "A person doesn't have to have a job to be a person with dignity and rights." But there's a larger question out there, which is: What, exactly, constitutes "a job"? Yes, absolutely, everyone should have dignity and rights (and material needs like guaranteed housing, food, and consensual healthcare). But also, most disabled people, including ""severely"" disabled people, can and do perform productive labor benefiting their communities. It's just often labor that capitalist society doesn't classify as "a job," like caregiving, studying, or making art. It's important to say that people shouldn't need "a job" in order to deserve rights or resources. It's also important to point out that disabled people have been doing labor this whole time, just without the dignity, rights, or pay associated with "a job." In a socialist utopia where everyone had their material needs guaranteed, labor would still be done, and a lot of it would still be done by disabled people. That's important. Disabled people's contributions to society matter. And erasing that is something ableists do on purpose -- excluding the labor done by disabled people from the category of "job" is integral to excluding disabled people from the category of "productive" and thus the category "worthy of life."

Paying taxes. This is the most transparently ridiculous one, because absolutely everybody in the U.S. pays taxes. Poor people pay taxes (too much). Rich people pay taxes (nowhere near enough). Undocumented immigrants pay taxes. You buy a Snickers? It's priced $1.79 but you pay $1.92. That's a tax. You live somewhere? You're paying property taxes. You rent your home? How do you think your landlord pays their property taxes? From your rent. You're paying property taxes. You have a crappy underpaid minimum wage job? You're paying FICA. Everybody pays taxes. What Kennedy probably means to imply is "They're too poor to owe federal income taxes." Politicians love pretending that "taxes" means "federal income taxes" so they can claim to "lower taxes" while shifting the tax burden somewhere else (cf. Trump's attempt to claim that tariffs aren't taxes). And. And also. There's another subtle implication in there, that I see a lot from parents and ableists. Because of the deep intersection of ableism and classism, Kennedy is implying "They're too poor to owe federal income taxes" (therefore they're inferior) but also "They're not smart enough to do something complicated like file a tax return." When ableists talk about disabled people who "can't take care of themselves" or specifically "can't pay their bills" or "can't pay taxes," they're intentionally trying to conflate an economic state (having enough money to pay bills/taxes) with a cognitive ability (having the skills/executive function to manage money, budget, pay bills on time, or file a tax return). Kennedy probably doesn't file his own tax return either. I'm sure he has an accountant for that. Presumed-neurotypical people are allowed to do that. The world is full of rich people who lack executive function or money-management skills, whose wealth insulates them from the consequences of that, because they can either afford to just lose money, or they can afford to hire someone to handle it for them. The world is also full of poor people for whom one missed payment has ruined them. The world is also full of disabled people for whom one missed payment has gotten them declared mentally incompetent, institutionalized, or placed under guardianship -- by abled family members who probably hire an accountant to manage their own money. Again, all this is deliberate. Kennedy and other ableists/classists/eugenicsts are intentionally trying to conflate "lacks money," "lacks money management abilities/skills," and "lacks General Intelligence" as one more-or-less interchangeable phenomenon (Note: If you've read this far and haven't figured out my angle yet: There is no such thing as "General Intelligence" and the very concept is harmful).

Write a poem. Again, this is deliberately ambiguous wording -- pretty much anyone can write a poem, including people who can't write or speak. Have you ever expressed an idea in which the words you used had an additional meaning on top of their literal meaning? Boom, you can write a poem. Maybe not a good one. But Kennedy didn't say that autistic people's poetry is bad -- plenty of neurotypical people's poetry is bad too, after all. There is a somewhat positive stereotype floating around that neurodivergent people are creative. We may be tragic, burdens on society, our parents' heartbreak, worthless, stupid, subhuman, but at least we're creative. Probably due to being more animal-like, "closer to nature." And neurobigots like Kennedy absolutely hate this stereotype. No matter how much dehumanization the "positive" stereotype is rooted in, we cannot have any positive attributes at all. They must never let us forget that we have no redeeming value whatsoever. We must be rendered as completely lacking in thought, feelings, expression, and creation. I'm seeing some echos of 18th century racism, too -- a common belief among 18th century white Europeans was that even if non-Europeans were superficially clever, they could produce no "higher culture," no great art or poetry or literature, because they were intrinsically a lower tier of human. This seems to be the root of Kennedy's implication -- not that autistic people "can't" write poetry (anyone can), or that autistic people are bad at writing poetry (most beginners are), but that an autistic person's creative output cannot constitute true poetry, true "high culture," because it comes from an inferior mind.

Play baseball. This is an especially slippery one, because like writing poetry, it's a learned skill with gradations of skill level, not an intrinsic ability that someone does or doesn't have. Most autistic people aren't pro-level baseball players, but neither are most allistic people. And again, Kennedy didn't say "Autistic people are bad at baseball." He said that we would never play baseball. "Has ever played or will ever play baseball" is such a ridiculously low bar that even I can meet it. Technically speaking, I can play baseball. I have played baseball, in school gym class. I know how! You sit there minding your business until it's your turn to stand up, and then someone hands you a bat, and then someone throws a ball, and you're supposed to try to hit the ball with the bat, and in theory, after you fail three times, you're supposed to be allowed to sit back down again and go back to imagining wild self-insert fanfic, but the coach gives you "extra tries" out of pity, so you have to humiliate yourself with five or six attempts instead of three. Yeah. I can play baseball. So what's Kennedy going for with this one? Baseball in the U.S. is associated with two things: American identity, and idyllic midcentury childhood. If autistic people can't participate in America's Pastime, can we really even be Americans? Do we really count as citizens? I don't think Kennedy is personally, ideologically all that committed to xenophobia himself; he's just hitched his wagon to a deeply xenophobic administration because they indulge his medical conspiracy theories. But he knows how to align his goals to the administration's. He knows that his boss is deeply committed to narrowing and restricting who counts as "an American," who's not really part of "our culture," who's not really a part of baseball and hot dogs and the Fourth of July, if you know what I mean. Okay, okay. Maybe I'm reaching with this one. But I'm definitely not reaching with the other association he's going for: Idyllic Midcentury Childhood. All kids play baseball. By which I mean, all boys play baseball. I'm not sure Kennedy knows that girls can play it too, or that he cares. The point is, baseball is part of childhood, and autistic people are never children. We don't play, we don't learn, we don't go through developmental stages, we're just forever Mindless Blobs. That's why things that would be considered cruelty if done to neurotypical children aren't cruelty when they're done to us. We're not really children. We never become adults, either -- how can we, if we don't go through childhood first? You can tell we're subhuman because we don't go through the universal experiences of Real People Life.

Go on a date. Okay. This one. This is the one where I get actively angry at the well-meaning, "inclusive" responses. "Just because an autistic person has high support needs and can't do XYZ doesn't mean --" no. Stop right there. There is no such thing as a disabled person who "can't" date. There is no impairment or disability that prevents someone from dating. There are people -- autistic and otherwise, disabled and otherwise -- who for whatever reason, choose not to pursue dating. Maybe they're aromantic, maybe they're loners, maybe they have religious objections, maybe dating just isn't something they're interested in. Fine. That's their choice. But there is no such thing as a disabled person who "can't" date. There is no such thing as a disability that renders people incapable of romantic relationships. There is no such fucking thing as being "too disabled" or "too severe" or "too profound" or "too high support needs" to have a romantic relationship if two or more people want one. That is not a thing that exists. That is a thing ableists made up. There is no such thing as an autistic person who "can't" go on a date. There are autistic people who aren't allowed to go on dates, because their family or caregivers control them, infantilize them, restrict their freedoms, or treat them as mindless blobs. But all disabled people (yes, all) can pursue romantic relationships. All disabled people (yes, all) deserve the human right to pursue romantic relationships if they choose to. With other disabled people. With abled people. With whomever. And yeah, dating doesn't necessarily have to be romantic or sexual, but let me be perfectly clear -- disabled people, autistic people, "high support needs" autistic people have a right to have sex, too. A multiply disabled autistic person who needs 24/7 assistance deserves the absolute, unreserved right to have wild, kinky, balls-to-the-wall, whole-chicken sex with the entire starting lineup of the Detroit Lions, if xe so chooses to, and if said Lions are on board. We should not accept the premise that there is any such thing as a disabled person who "can't" go on a date.

Use a toilet without assistance. This is the Kennedy playbook trump card, but unlike some of the other claims, this one is actually true. There's no such thing as a disabled person who "can't" date, but yes, there are in fact plenty of disabled people, including autistic people, who need help with using the toilet. So what's Kennedy going for here? He's trying to evoke two things: Disgust and infantilization. We have a visceral disgust around excretory functions. Needing to eliminate waste reminds us that we're animals made of meat, not the higher intellectual beings we pretend to be. Everyone poops. So we do it in private, we describe it with euphemisms, and if someone needs help with it, well, they're not keeping up their end of the social compact to collectively pretend we're not animals with animal bodily functions. So people who need assistance with the waste process are disgusting, subhuman, a violation of imagined purity. And of course, they're babies. Babies wear diapers. Babies need help using the toilet. So an older child or adult who needs diapers or toileting help is basically a big baby. We have entire election cycles centered on "Which candidate has incontinence issues?" as a proxy for "Which candidate is a big baby unfit to lead?" as though someone's bladder leakage has any bearing on their wisdom or policy positions. And of course, since people who need help with toileting Are Babies, we're meant to assume that they can't do any of those other things, either. They can't even use the toilet, let alone write poetry or go on a date. In reality, plenty of people who need toileting help are writing poetry and going on dates. One of the biggest misconceptions that holds disabled people back from education or, in some cases, from basic communication, is this myth of linear "developmental stages" -- that if someone isn't "smart enough" to master an "easier/earlier" skill, then they can't possibly be "smart enough" to master a completely unrelated skill that some abled person thinks of as "more advanced." This is literally the primary barrier to communication access for speech-disabled people, and the reason nonspeaking people who type to communicate are so often disbelieved -- if someone isn't "smart enough" to master a "baby skill" like talking, they can't possibly be "smart enough" to read and write! Nevermind that for many speech disabled people, reading and writing are much easier than speaking. And if someone isn't "smart enough" to use the toilet unassisted, they can't possibly learn any advanced topics at all, because they must the "mind of a baby." (The only people with the minds of babies are babies. A 50 year old with incontinence has the mind of a 50 year old.)

So. To sum up: Kennedy is intentionally evoking the concept of autistic people as The Abject Unthinking, and neither "Plenty of autistic people can do those things he says we can't do" nor "Disabled people deserve respect and dignity even if they can't do those things" fully addresses the dehumanization he's trying to conjure. Maybe I'm just jaded, too, about calls for "respect and dignity" for disabled people that don't challenge the concept of The Abject Unthinking. I see behavioral therapists, institution staff, and parents pursuing adult guardianship talking about "respect and dignity." I see articles about how to restrain and forcibly drug people with "respect and dignity." Ableists literally murder disabled people in cold blood in the name of "respect and dignity." I don't know what "respect and dignity" means to these people, but it's sure not synonymous with "bodily autonomy" or "civil rights." By this point, I consider "respect and dignity" about as meaningful as "thoughts and prayers." All disabled people can, and deserve the right to, express themselves. All disabled people can, and deserve the right to, make their own decisions about their own bodies. All disabled people can, and deserve the right to, participate in their communities. All disabled people can, and deserve the right to, pursue relationships with other people of their choice.

[prokopetz]

With DND 5e being set up to cause DM burnout, can you give examples of tabletop systems that facilitate easy DMing? I love running a tabletop game but don't have the time to deal with 5e or homebrew anymore.

(With reference to this post here.)

This is an area where you're going to get a lot of bad advice, because there's no such thing as a tabletop RPG that's "easy to GM" in the abstract. Some systems make greater or lesser demands of the GM's time and skill, but the reason that Dungeons & Dragons has a massive GM burnout problem is a bit more subtle than that – indeed, D&D's GM burnout problem is considerably worse than that of many games whose procedures of play place much greater demands on the GM!

It boils down to the fact that games are opinionated. Even a very simple set of rules contains a vast number of baked-in assumptions about how the game ought to be played; in the case of tabletop RPGs, those baked-in assumptions include assumptions about what kinds of stories the game ought to be used to tell. The players of any given group, of course, also have assumptions – some explicit, many unexamined – about how the game's story ought to go. It's rare that these two sets of assumptions will perfectly agree.

Fortunately, perfect agreement isn't necessary, because tabletop RPGs aren't computer games, and it's always possible to tweak the outputs of the rules on the fly to better suit the desired narrative experience. In conventional one-GM-many-players games like D&D, this responsibility for monitoring and adjusting the outputs of the rules so that they're compatible with the narrative space the group wishes to explore falls principally on the GM.

Now, here's where the trouble starts: the larger the disconnect between the story the rules want to produce and the narrative space the group wants to explore, the more work the GM in a conventional one-GM-many-players context needs to do in order to close that gap. If the disconnect is large enough, the GM ends up spending practically all of their time babysitting the outputs of the rules, at the expense of literally every other facet of their responsibilities.

(Conversely, if that gap is large and isn't successfully closed, you can end up with a situation where engaging with the rules and engaging with the narrative become mutually exclusive activities. This is where we get daft ideas like "combat" and "roleplaying" being opposites – which is nonsense, of course, but it's persuasive nonsense if you've never experienced a game where the rules agree with you about what kind of story you should be telling.)

And here's where the problem with Dungeons & Dragons in particular arises. The rules of D&D aren't especially more opinionated than those of your average tabletop RPG; however, the game has developed a culture of play that's allergic to actually acknowledging this. There are several legs to this, including:

a text which makes claims about the game's supported modes of play that are far broader than what the rules in fact support;

a body of received wisdom about GMing best practices which consists mostly of advice on how to close the gap between the rules' assumptions and the players' expectations (but refuses to admit that this is what it's doing);

a player culture which has become increasingly hostile to players learning or knowing the rules, and positions any expectation that players should learn the rules as a form of "gatekeeping"; and

a propensity to treat a very high level of GMing skill as an entry-level expectation.

Taken together, all this produces a situation where, when the rules and the group disagree about how the game's story ought to go, the players don't experience it as a problem with the rules: they experience it as a problem with the GM. A lot of GMs even buy into this perception themselves, which is how you end up with GM advice forums overflowing with people telling novice GMs that they're morally bad people for being unprepared to tackle very advanced GMing challenges right from the jump.

(At this point, one may wonder: why on Earth would a game develop this sort of culture of play in the first place? Who benefits? Well, what we're looking at in practice is a culture of play which treats novice and casual GMs as a disposal resource whose purpose is to maximise the number of people playing Dungeons & Dragons. Follow the money!)

So, after all of that, the short answer is that there isn't a specific magic-bullet solution to avoiding D&D's GM burnout problem – or, at least, not one that operates at the level of the rules, because there's no particular thing that D&D as a system is doing "wrong" that produces this outcome; the problem operates almost entirely at the play culture level.

In practice, two things need to happen:

Placing a greater expectation on the players to learn and understand the game's rules; and

Selecting a system where the gap between the story the rules want to produce and the narrative space the group wants to explore is small.

It's that second one that's the real trick. In order to minimise that gap, we need to know what kind of narrative space your group wants to explore, and that might not be something you have a good answer to if you don't have good lines of communication with your players.

(As an aside, there's a good chance that we're going to see dipsticks cropping up in the notes insisting that their favourite system short-circuits this problem by being perfectly universal and having no baked-in narrative assumptions. These people are lying to you, and lending credence to the idea that there's any such thing as a universal RPG is a big part of how we got into this mess in the first place!)

[bbokicidal]

Hand Placement - [OT8]

quick summary : where the skz members like to lay their hands on your body during different scenarios.

warnings : suggestive content (18+, MDNI), sexual themes, casual (? ish, ig.) groping

notes : the order of the scenarios goes: casual -> intimate -> sensual so the pictures for each member will be placed in that order for visual reference!

if you like my content and want to see more, be sure to follow & reblog!

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ bangchan

casual - he can't help it, if he's honest. he knows that actions speak louder than words, and when you're stubborn enough to deny the beauty he tells you he sees through his eyes - well, he hopes that the touch of his hand lingering over your jaw will guide you to see yourself the way he does.

intimate - always holding your hand, chan can't deny that he feels a protective nature over you. he can't let you get lost - can't fight the panic he finds filling his chest when his fingers aren't laced with yours. so do him a favor and just hold on tight, yeah?

sensual - having the need to constantly be using his hands, chan likes to knead that plush of your thighs any chance he gets - and the feeling of the warmth under his fingertips is all the more alluring when you're sitting above him rocking your hips down against his hardening cock.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ lee know

casual - never one to hurt you, his grip is always gentle when he grabs hold of your wrist. it's a subtle but sure way to make sure you drop the bratty, teasing nature that riles him up all too quickly - and it's a surefire way to get jisung giggling off to the side at your antics.

intimate - he isn't sure when his love for resting his hand on your lower back appeared, but minho adores getting to hold onto you in such a soft way. it's - again - subtle, but his gesture and guide is firm as he brings you to walk in front of him or lures you away from the counter so he can step forward and pay.

sensual - call him sappy - maybe even a bit romantic - but minho needs to feel your hand in his when he's making love to you. both so he knows you're present and with him in that moment, but also to keep you grounded when he's kissing your cervix with the tip of his cock. <3

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ changbin

casual - bin loves the feeling of having you in his arms. he can't resist the urge to hug onto you most times - use to being the clingier one in the group and loving that you'll accept his affection with no questions asked.

intimate - and since we're on the topic, who doesn't want a hug with bin's big strong arms wrapped around them? better yet, who doesn't want a strong hug from behind while also getting to play with his fingers and rings? he'll chat away with the others, swaying carefully back and forth with you huddled nice and close, twisting his rings and pulling at his bracelets.

sensual - having a thing for - what do we call it, grabbing? we've seen him do it with seungmin multiple times and you'd be wrong if you think he won't do it to you as well. at first it's gentle caresses along the nape of your neck to guide you into a kiss - but once he's comfortable enough and knows what you like, he'll grab you by the throat, dragging you to him to steal a kiss before guiding you to your knees so you can take his awaiting cock in your pretty little mouth.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ hyunjin

casual - thinking it's more funny than anything, hyunjin developed a habit of pressing a hand over your mouth when you got snappy towards other members, namely being minho. because he knew for a fact that you would also get the airfryer-tissue treatment as soon as minho got out of his seat.

intimate - call him romantic, call him a sucker. hyunjin can't get enough of the warmth your body offers him, hands sliding under your shirt when you kiss him so he can squeeze at the softness of your sides and maybe, if he's feeling frisky, trail his fingertips up a bit higher.

sensual - call him a whore. if you're alone together, or you're in the group and everyone's been drinking a bit so he's what we'll call 'loose' in this situation - he's resting a hand right over your center. whether you're wearing pants, shorts, a dress, or nothing at all - he's always got his hand loitering there. maybe even rubbing small circles with his fingertips.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ han

casual - jisung is... a sweetheart when it comes to your body. his favorite thing to do no matter where you are, how many people are around, what time of day it is - is play with your hair. he loves the feeling of running his fingers through it and getting to twist it into fun hairstyles. he'll do his best not to rat it up, though.

intimate - his hand being in your back pocket is something he could put on his hobby - because that's a full-time job for him. you're standing beside him? hand in your pocket. you're sitting in his lap? hand under your ass in your pocket. you're standing in front of him in line? whoop - hand in your pocket. maybe squeezing here and there, too.

sensual - did you see this one coming? han jisung is an ass man and i will stand by my word. any time you're alone he's always, always, always touching the tooshie. he'll slide his hands over the soft skin and dig his fingertips in as much as he can while you're in his lap, his lips attached to your throat to muffle his groans. he gets more pleasure out of it than you do, i'd assume.~

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ felix

casual - ever the sweetheart and gentleman, felix does his best to keep his hands to himself with you in public. but if you're more comfortable and don't mind him holding onto you or being affectionate, he'll often times find himself holding onto your hands or bringing you closer so that you can hold onto his arm.

intimate - it's common this appears at awards shows - felix enjoys showing you off. his hand is consistently resting on your hip, gentle but firm in nature and not necessarily guiding you but moreso just resting there so that people get the hint. you're taken, and he's proud to be your boyfriend. (all days of the week, but when you look this gorgeous? he's bound to adore you just a tad bit more, pride swelling in his veins.)

sensual - felix's hands commonly rest on your sides during moments together. partially because it gives you stability - and partially because he needs to hold onto you while he stares up at your bouncing form above him, his lips parted and eyes fogged like glass with adoration.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ seungmin

casual - seungmin's almost always touching you more than he is the others. he'll nudge you with his hip to get you out of his way (playfully, of course) or give you a shove when you're being bratty - even though he's the exact same way. nuisances, i swear. <3

intimate - it's subtle, and soft. but seungmin has a love for linking his pinky with yours, letting his thumb rub over the back of your hand while you sit beside each other. there's no looks or words exchanged - just brief, sweet, quiet moments filled with a dull hum of love.

sensual - contrary to everything i just said, he's a grabber. grabbing your thighs, your hands, your sides - your hair. he has a love for holding your hair back for you while you swallow around his cock, or pulling on it to make you look back at him when he drills into you from behind so hard it almost hurts.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ jeongin

casual - there's little to no casual contact with jeongin, simply because skinship isn't his thing. he'll hold your hand or arms here or there in passing, but it isn't often he'll be affectionate with you in public.

intimate - when he is feeling softer, feeling safer when he's alone with you and out of the teasing eyes of his hyungs - jeongin likes to cup your face in his hands. he mentally huffs out a laugh at the way his palms seem to envelope your cheeks completely, but on the outside he's just gazing at you, smitten and soft and falling apart just by the simplest touch.

sensual - his hands tend to wander. they'll caress over every curve of your body when you're splayed on the sheets for him, so willing and wanting and ready for what he has to offer - but they travel along your back most often. you think he just has a want to feel the way your back arches away from his touch, chasing the warmth of his body and writhing with pleasure all because of him.