#anon who are you?? (don't actually answer if you aren't comfortable)

[drdtappreciation]

earlier today I was tearing up in the car, next to my family

I was blinking so fast, looking away trying to not properly burst out in tears in front of them

but when I thought about drdt and how comforting it is to me (the characters, the story, everything.) I stopped tearing up :)

^

[aparticularbandit]

@Cherry Anon - not answering your submission directly, because I want to link the thing when it's done, and I won't be posting it until sometime in December - but I started your N2N request. ^^

[blumineck]

Your videos are so awesome! Question about pole dancing:

I'm a trans man, and before I transitioned I did some aerial silks and trapeze at a school near where I lived. Then I transitioned, moved, and after a few years have wanted to get back into something similar. There are plenty of pole places around my house, but they're heavily oriented towards women. One's even marketed for ONLY women. I feel really weird about trying to attend classes as a man. Any advice?

OK, this is a tricky one. As this is anon, I need to post publicly, so here's some context for passers-by:

Pole dance is a heavily female-dominated activity, and because it's also frequently sexualised (either by design or by association), and requires fairly revealing clothing, many women feel less comfortable in classes with men. Some studios might then attempt to foster a safer environment by excluding men altogether (and even if they don't, the vast majority of students are usually female anyway, so pictures on the website, etc rarely feature men even if there's no actual policy).

And I GET all that. But also, I feel like it's ok for men to want to do pole too. I was literally drawn to pole in the first place BECAUSE it defied traditional gender expectations. So here's my advice, to you and any other men who might want to start:

1) Ask. Drop the studio an email, see if they take male students. The way they respond will tell you a lot about whether this will be a safe/welcoming space for you. It might feel weird and scary, but they don't know you yet, and if their answer is off-putting, they never have to!

2) Be prepared to be in a minority. Even if the studio is welcoming, you are unlikely to be in a class with more than 1 or 2 other men (at most!) and reasonably likely to be the only one. You may find different moves easy/hard, and you may find it takes a little longer for other students to relax/open up around you. This can be hard for some men who aren't used to that dynamic, but it /is/ a predominantly feminine space, so it's worth being thoughtful in how you approach things.

I'm not saying this to put you or anyone else off! IME most studios are happy to take male students, and most students are reasonably open and welcoming, and once you get settled, you can have a lot of fun and make lots of friends. As long as you check in and make an effort, I absolutely recommend giving it a go!

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

im really sorry if this is a stupid thing to ask but im 16 and ive been trying to figure out what kinds of things i like, yknow for reference, and uh ik that people say that all kinks are ok but then they also turn around and say that some arent. and i keep getting turned on by rape scenes in shows and things and then i feel really fucking shitty about it and im not sure how i should. idk deal with that, if theres anything to deal with. basically the whole things confusing as fuck and i dont know what to do and you usually have answers

hi anon,

okay, here's the thing: what you're getting turned on by is people playing pretend. no one is in any danger, no one is actually being raped, depending on when the tv show or movie in question was made there's a very good chance there was an intimacy coordinator on standby to make sure everything was done respectfully and all of the actors felt safe and comfortable.

being turned on by a depiction of something bad happening carries no ethical weight, because being horny and enjoying fiction are morally neutral things. people who like Godzilla probably aren't into it because they actually want to see real people and cities be destroyed by a big lizard, you know? it's fun because it's pretend. it's made up.

would personal examples help? I love reading romance novels. I don't want romance to happen to me, that shit gives me hives. but I love to read about people catching feelings and figuring it out. and, hey, you've seen my URL. I love Batman. that doesn't mean I think actual billionaires should zoom around in tanks doing vigilante justice with children, that's fucking crazy. and you want a sex example? I think it's great when men are beaten, bruised, bloodied, and quivering miserably on the edge of death's door. that's so hot to me, I eat that shit up. does that mean I would want to see that happen in real life? jesus christ, no. if I find an actual man in extreme physical distress on the ground I'm not going to start bating my meat, I'm going to call a fucking ambulance and try to help him as best I can. because the way my brain responds to real people is completely different than the way my brain responds to made up people who aren't actually in any pain or danger.

there's nothing to deal with here, because you haven't done anything wrong.

[rootedinrevisions]

Let's Find Out Together

SUMMARY: After a painful breakup, you turn to Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, your longtime friend, for support. But as he steps in to help you heal, he reveals that he’s been harboring feelings for you all along. What starts as a comforting distraction quickly turns into an intense, unexpected connection that blurs the line between friendship and something more. Now, as the sparks fly, you're left questioning everything you thought you knew about love, friendship, and passion.

A/N: Thank you to the Anon who sent this request in! this was a fun one to write! I hope you enjoy it!

PROMPT: "What do you like?" "I don't know." "Well, then how about we find out together?"

WARNINGS/TAGS: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. (Biting, Marking, Oral Female Receiving)

WORD COUNT: 4.7k

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell: Himself (RPF), Characters He's Played

Twisters: Tyler Owens, Boone, Scott, Javi

Top Gun: Maverick: Rooster, Hangman, Bob

Marvel/MCU: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

WWE/Wrestling: Cody Rhodes, Corey Graves, Damian Priest, Drew McIntyre, Finn Balor, Jimmy Uso, Jey Uso, Kevin Owens, L.A. Knight, Pat McAfee, Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins (if there is someone you're thinking of from WWE and they aren't on the list feel free to ask! There are so many guys on the roster that these were the ones that came to mind.)

The Hard Deck was alive with its usual buzz—boots scuffed against the wooden floors, laughter echoed from the pool table, and the jukebox played a classic rock song that you barely registered. You sat at the bar, staring down into the bottom of your glass like it might hold the answers to every question rattling around in your head.

“Hey,” came a familiar voice from behind you.

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw slid onto the stool beside you, his presence like a balm for your frayed nerves. His aviators hung from the neckline of his shirt, and his easy smile faded the moment he got a good look at your face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his tone softer now, concerned.

You tried to muster a reassuring smile but knew it fell flat. “Nothing. Just… a long day.”

He wasn’t buying it. Bradley had known you long enough to spot when something was bothering you. His brow furrowed as he leaned in closer, his voice low. “Come on. It’s me. What’s going on?”

You hesitated, your fingers tracing the rim of your glass. Then, with a quiet sigh, you admitted, “I broke up with Derek.”

Bradley’s expression flickered—something unreadable passed over his face, a mix of surprise and something else you couldn’t quite place. He took a moment, then asked, “What happened?”

You swallowed, the words feeling heavier than they should. “I caught him cheating on me.”

Bradley’s hand clenched around his beer bottle, his jaw tightening. “That asshole,” he muttered under his breath, then louder, “He can go screw himself.”

You snorted at his bluntness, a small laugh escaping despite yourself. Bradley’s intensity softened as he looked back at you.

“I’m serious,” he said, his tone gentler now. “You deserve better than that. Better than him.”

“Yeah, right,” you replied with a hollow laugh. “Good guys aren��t as common as they used to be.”

Bradley shrugged casually, but his lips twitched into a small smile. “I think I’m a pretty good guy.”

You blinked, caught off guard, then smiled at him. “Yeah, you are. One of the best, actually.”

He leaned forward, his forearms resting on the bar. “Then let me take you on a date.”

You stared at him, momentarily stunned. “Bradley…”

His brown eyes held yours, steady and earnest. “I mean it. Let me take you out.”

“You don’t mean it,” you said, shaking your head, though your pulse quickened at the thought.

“I do,” he countered, his voice unwavering. “I’ve liked you for a while. But you were with Derek, and I wasn’t going to get in the way of that. Now that you’re not…” He trailed off, his gaze softening. “I just want to show you how you should’ve been treated all along.”

Your heart twisted at the sincerity in his voice. For a moment, you couldn’t speak, couldn’t process how Bradley—your steady, dependable Bradley—was suddenly baring his feelings to you like this.

“I don’t know what to say,” you admitted quietly.

“Say yes,” he said simply.

Your lips curved into a small, hesitant smile. 

“Okay,” you said, the word slipping out before you could second-guess yourself.

His face lit up, and he reached out, brushing his fingers lightly against yours where they rested on the bar. The touch was tentative, warm, and for the first time that night, you felt the weight on your chest ease just a little.

“Let me take you home,” he said. “You’ve had enough of this place for one night.”

You nodded, letting him help you off the stool. As he led you toward the door, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was the start of something you’d been too blind to see before.

The drive back to your place was quiet at first, the soft hum of the engine filling the space as you leaned back in your seat, watching the lights of the town blur past. Bradley’s hand rested casually on the gearshift, his fingers drumming lightly against it in time with the song playing low on the radio.

“So,” you said, breaking the silence, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips, “is this you taking me home and tucking me in? Or is this you taking me home?”

Beside you, Bradley’s lips twitched into a grin, though he kept his eyes on the road. “Depends,” he said smoothly, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “What do you want it to be?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“Hey, you’re the one who asked.” His tone was light, teasing, but there was an undercurrent of something more—something that made your stomach flip.

“Just so you know,” you said, folding your arms across your chest in mock indignation, “you’re terrible at tucking people in. I seem to remember you leaving me to sleep on a couch last New Year’s while you stole my blanket.”

Bradley laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “First of all, that blanket was fair game. Second, you’re the one who insisted on watching that terrible rom-com marathon. I was being a good friend by suffering through it.”

You shot him a playful glare. “Suffering? You cried during The Notebook.”

“I did not.”

“You absolutely did.”

He sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “Fine. Maybe I got something in my eye. A guy can be moved by powerful cinema without crying, you know.”

“Sure, Brad,” you said, unable to keep the smile off your face.

The banter continued, easy and familiar, until he pulled up outside your place. He shifted the car into park but didn’t immediately move to unbuckle his seatbelt. Instead, he turned to you, his expression softening as his eyes searched yours.

“Seriously, though,” he said, his voice low, “it’s up to you. I meant what I said back there. I’m not in a rush. I just want to be here for you.”

Your smile faded into something gentler as the weight of his words settled over you. “I know, Bradley. And… I appreciate it.”

For a moment, neither of you moved, the air in the car thick with something unspoken. Then you reached for the door handle, breaking the spell.

“You coming in, or are you going to sleep in the car?” you asked, your tone teasing but your heart pounding.

Bradley grinned, unbuckling his seatbelt. “You know I’m not letting you go in there without company.”

You reached your front door, fishing your keys out of your bag, the cool night air brushing against your skin. Bradley trailed behind you, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his presence. As you tried to slot the key into the lock, your hands trembled—whether from the chill or the way your heart was racing, you weren’t sure.

Before you could get the door open, you felt him. Bradley’s hands slid gently around your waist, his touch tentative at first, as though giving you the chance to pull away. When you didn’t, he pulled you closer, his chest pressing against your back.

“Bradley…” you started, your voice barely above a whisper.

His only response was to lean down, his lips brushing softly against the curve of your neck. The first kiss was light, testing, a feather-soft touch that sent a shiver down your spine. The second lingered longer, his warm breath fanning over your skin as he pressed his mouth to the sensitive spot just below your ear.

“Is this okay?” he murmured, his voice low and husky against your neck.

You closed your eyes, tilting your head slightly to give him better access. “Yeah,” you hummed, the word barely audible.

You swore you felt him smile against your skin before he continued, his kisses growing bolder, more insistent. His lips trailed down the side of your neck, tracing a path toward your shoulder. His hands splayed across your stomach, anchoring you to him as his mouth moved lower.

Every kiss sent a wave of warmth through you, the world outside your little bubble fading away.

“Bradley…” His name slipped from your lips, half a sigh, half a plea, though you weren’t even sure what you were asking for.

He hummed in response, his lips still trailing over your skin. His touch wasn’t rushed or desperate—it was deliberate, reverent, as though he’d been waiting for this moment for longer than he cared to admit.

You turned your head slightly, trying to catch his gaze, but he paused, his lips brushing against your shoulder as he spoke. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he said softly.

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you turned fully in his arms, your hands sliding up to rest on his chest. His brown eyes searched yours, and whatever he saw there must have been enough, because his lips were on yours a moment later, warm and sure, pulling you even closer.

Bradley’s lips never left yours as his hands moved down your back, his fingers grazing over the curve of your hips before gripping your thighs. With an effortless motion, he lifted you, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, your arms looping around his neck for support.

Your breath hitched as he adjusted his hold, steady and sure, like he’d done this a hundred times in his mind. The strength in his arms sent a shiver through you, and for a fleeting moment, you wondered how he managed to make it all look so seamless.

Still cradling you securely, Bradley leaned back just enough to reach behind you, pushing your door open with one hand. The kiss never faltered, his lips still moving against yours in a way that made your head spin. The door swung open, and he stepped inside, his boots echoing softly against the hardwood.

With a swift motion, he kicked the door shut behind him, the solid thunk of it closing grounding you in the moment. Then he turned, pressing your back gently against the wall, his body pinning yours in place.

Your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging lightly as his lips traveled down, brushing over your jawline and back to your mouth. The intensity of his kiss deepened as his tongue slipped past your lips, teasing, exploring, drawing a soft moan from your throat that you couldn’t hold back.

Bradley’s hands slid down your sides, his touch leaving trails of heat in its wake. When they settled on your waist, his thumbs stroked slow, deliberate circles against your skin through the thin fabric of your shirt. The way he held you—firm but gentle, steady but utterly consuming—made your pulse race.

Every movement, every touch, felt purposeful, like he was trying to show you with his hands and mouth everything he hadn’t yet said out loud.

“Bradley,” you murmured against his lips, your voice breathless and shaky.

“Hmm?” he hummed, his lips brushing yours as he paused just long enough to look at you, his brown eyes dark and full of something that made your stomach flutter.

You couldn’t form the words, but he didn’t seem to need them. Instead, he dipped his head again, capturing your lips in another searing kiss that left no room for doubt about how he felt—or how much he wanted you.

Bradley pulled back just enough to break the kiss, his lips hovering near yours as his warm breath brushed your skin. His hands still rested on your waist, his fingers pressing lightly into your sides as his eyes searched yours with a mixture of mischief and heat.

“So,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, “do you still want me to just tuck you in?”

The question made your pulse quicken, but instead of faltering, a surge of boldness rose within you. Your fingers tightened in his hair, tugging his head back gently but firmly, exposing the strong line of his throat. His lips parted slightly, and a low groan rumbled in his chest, the sound sending a shiver through you.

You leaned in close, your lips brushing the edge of his jaw as you whispered, “I want you, Bradley.”

His reaction was immediate. His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you closer against him as his eyes darkened with an intensity that made your breath catch. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear that,” he muttered, his voice rough and full of unspoken desire.

Without another word, he shifted you in his arms with ease, his hold on you unwavering as he stepped back from the wall. Your legs tightened instinctively around his waist, your fingers still tangled in his hair as he turned and started down the hallway.

The journey to your bedroom felt electric, every step punctuated by the tension between you. Bradley’s grip on you was sure and steady, his strength making you feel both weightless and completely grounded.

As he reached the door to your room, he paused, glancing at you with a small, almost cocky smirk. “Last chance to back out,” he teased, though his voice held a note of seriousness beneath the playfulness.

Your response was simple: you leaned forward and kissed him, pouring every ounce of your pent-up feelings into it. That was all the answer he needed.

With a quiet chuckle, he carried you over the threshold, his lips finding yours again as he stepped inside and nudged the door closed behind him with his foot.

Bradley walked you over to the bed, his movements careful and deliberate, as though he wanted to savor every second. Gently, he lowered you onto the soft mattress, his hands lingering on your hips for a moment before he leaned over you. The room felt still, save for the quiet rustle of sheets beneath you and the sound of your own uneven breathing.

He braced himself on one arm, his other hand brushing a strand of hair from your face as his lips met yours again. The kiss deepened, slow and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world. Then his mouth began to travel, leaving a trail of kisses along your jaw and back down to your neck.

Between kisses, his voice came out low and teasing. “What do you like?”

The question caught you off guard, and you froze for a moment, your mind blanking under the weight of it. “I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bradley stilled, his lips hovering just above your collarbone. He pulled back slightly to look at you, his brows furrowing in confusion. For a moment, he seemed to hesitate, as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard you correctly.

“You’ve... you’ve done this before, right?” he asked, his voice tinged with an awkward uncertainty.

A laugh bubbled out of you, breaking the tension. “Yes, I’ve slept with people before,” you said, your tone light and reassuring. “It’s just... all the guys I’ve been with only ever did missionary.”

His expression shifted instantly. First, his eyes widened in disbelief, and for a split second, you thought he might be about to argue. But then his lips curled into a slow, confident smirk, the kind that made your pulse race.

“Missionary,” he repeated, the word almost incredulous. “That’s it?”

You shrugged, a mix of embarrassment and amusement bubbling in your chest.

Bradley leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke, his voice a low, teasing murmur. “Well, then... how about we find out together?”

Before you could respond, his lips captured yours again, and his hands began to explore, sliding over your sides and down to your thighs.

Bradley’s fingers moved to the hem of your shirt, his dark eyes flicking up to meet yours. “Is this okay?” he asked softly, his voice steady but laced with anticipation.

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah.”

With deliberate care, he pulled your shirt over your head and tossed it aside, his hands brushing against your skin as he did. The warmth of his touch lingered, sending a shiver down your spine. His gaze didn’t waver as it roamed over you, and the look in his eyes made you feel more seen—and more desired—than you ever had before.

“You’re gorgeous,” he murmured, his voice reverent but with an edge of heat that made your cheeks flush. His hands moved to the waistband of your jeans next, his thumbs hooking into the fabric as he paused to look at you again. “Still okay?”

You nodded again, your voice catching in your throat.

He made quick work of the button and zipper, easing the denim down your legs and leaving you in nothing but your bra and underwear. He straightened, his gaze sweeping over you as you lay back against the pillows.

“God,” he breathed, shaking his head slightly. “You’re so beautiful. No... you’re sexy.”

The compliment hit you like a spark, and for a moment, you wondered why you had never let yourself see Bradley like this before. He wasn’t just your dependable, loyal friend. He was this—sweet, confident, and undeniably attractive.

He knelt back down, his hands gently trailing up your thighs as he leaned in. “You tell me if there’s anything you don’t like,” he reminded you, his voice soft but firm.

“I will,” you whispered, your heart pounding in your chest.

His lips found your neck again, pressing gentle, lingering kisses against your skin. Then you felt his teeth graze your neck—a new sensation, one that sent a jolt through you. Before you could process it, he bit down gently, and you gasped, the sound escaping you unbidden.

You felt his lips curve into a smile against your skin. “You like that?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “Do you want me to do it again? Do you want me to mark you?”

You nodded quickly, your breath hitching. “Yes. I want to be yours.”

The words barely left your lips before he leaned in again, his teeth sinking into your neck just enough to sting, followed by the soothing press of his mouth as he sucked on the tender skin. The sensation was unlike anything you’d felt before—electric, heady, and intimate. When he pulled away, you could feel the heat of his gaze as he admired the dark mark he’d left.

Bradley smirked, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face as he leaned in to kiss you. “Can’t wait to see what you look like with those all over,” he whispered, his tone filled with a promise that made your pulse race.

You couldn’t help but smirk back at him, a boldness blooming in your chest. “Where else do you want to put one?”

His eyes darkened with a mix of mischief and intent, and his smirk widened. Without another word, he lowered his head, his lips trailing along your collarbones before dipping lower, stopping just above your breasts.

He paused for a moment, looking up at you as if to ask for permission. You gave him a small nod, and he bit down again, his mouth working to leave another mark, this time on the skin between your breasts.

The sensation sent another wave of heat coursing through you, and when he pulled back, his expression was pure satisfaction as he admired his work. 

“Perfect,” he murmured, his voice rough.

Bradley's hands slid up your sides, his thumbs grazing the edge of your bra. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, silently asking for permission. When you gave him a slight nod, he reached behind you with practiced ease, unhooking the clasp and gently sliding the straps down your shoulders.

The garment fell away, and for a moment, he just looked at you, his gaze filled with reverence and hunger that made your skin flush.

One of his hands moved to cup your breast, his palm warm against your skin as his fingers squeezed gently, exploring. The sensation was new, different, and surprisingly intoxicating. You couldn’t help the soft sigh that escaped your lips as he leaned down, his breath ghosting over your skin before his lips wrapped around one of your nipples.

The feeling sent a jolt of electricity through you. No one had ever paid much attention to your chest before; past partners had always been more focused elsewhere, making offhand comments about your body that left you feeling unbalanced. But this—Bradley’s touch, his mouth—was deliberate and consuming as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

Then you felt his teeth, a brief, unexpected pressure that made you gasp, your back arching as you unconsciously pushed your chest further into his mouth.

Bradley hummed against you, his lips curving into a smirk as he flicked his tongue over the sensitive skin to soothe it. 

“You like that,” he murmured, not as a question but a quiet declaration.

Your breath hitched, and you nodded, your voice too tangled in the haze of sensation to respond properly.

He didn’t wait for words. He pulled away, his lips leaving a trail of warmth as he shifted to your other breast. His hand replaced his mouth, rolling the sensitive bud between his fingers while his lips found their target. This time, he didn’t hesitate, biting down gently but firmly, drawing another involuntary gasp from you.

The sound made something flicker in his eyes—satisfaction, excitement, and a hint of possessiveness. His tongue swept over the spot he’d bitten, his mouth working with a combination of suction and teasing flicks that had your fingers digging into his shoulders.

Bradley pulled back slightly, his breath warm against your skin as he looked up at you. “I love hearing those sounds you make,” he said softly, his voice a rough whisper that sent a shiver through you. His hands slid down to rest on your waist again, grounding you as his lips brushed a gentle kiss against the curve of your breast. “I’ve got so much more I want to show you.”

Bradley’s eyes never left yours as he slowly made his way down your body, his lips brushing over your skin with a slow, deliberate pace. His hands were gentle but firm, guiding you closer to the edge of something new and thrilling. When he finally positioned himself between your legs, his gaze flickered up to meet yours once more.

He smiled, a look of both excitement and admiration in his eyes. “I can’t wait to hear the sounds you make when I do thi,” he said, his voice low and husky. The weight of his words settled heavily between you, making your heart race.

You swallowed, your breath hitching slightly as he traced his fingers along your thighs, his touch light and teasing. His lips followed, pressing a soft kiss to one thigh before moving to the other, a trail of warmth in his wake. Then, with a careful touch, he slid your panties down your legs and tossed them aside, leaving you feeling exposed, but strangely safe in his hands.

He looked at you, his eyes dark with desire, before lowering himself further. The air between you two was thick with anticipation. His hands gently caressed your hips, grounding you as his lips finally reached your center.

The moment his mouth made contact, your body jolted with the sensation, a sharp intake of breath escaping you as you arched into him, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you.

Bradley was slow, methodical, taking his time to explore and bring you closer to the edge. Every touch, every movement was carefully tuned to your reactions. He wasn’t just trying to make you feel good—he wanted to know what made you tick, to learn the rhythm of your body in a way no one else had before.

Bradley’s focus never wavered as he continued his work, taking his time to explore, making sure every movement was deliberate and sure. Each kiss, each touch, each gentle caress sent shivers through your body, and you couldn’t stop the quiet gasps that escaped your lips as you reacted to him.

He shifted slightly, and his movements grew more confident. His lips found that sweet spot, the one that made your breath catch, and when he applied a little more pressure, a moan slipped from you—louder than you’d intended, and unmistakably full of need.

You felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment, but then Bradley’s voice, low and full of approval, reached your ears.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his lips curling into a satisfied smile against your skin. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.” He repeated the motion, coaxing another breathy moan from you. The sound was so raw, so genuine, it made him groan in return.

You couldn’t hold back anymore, your body arching further into him as the sensations built. “Bradley…” you moaned, almost too loudly, your eyes squeezing shut as a wave of heat coursed through you.

He growled in approval, the sound so deep that it sent a rush of excitement through your veins. “You sound so good, baby. Keep letting me know how you’re feeling.”

Your hands found their way into his hair, fingers threading through it, gripping him closer. The intensity in his gaze grew, and the way he praised you made you feel both empowered and desired in a way you’d never experienced before. You felt your body reacting to him, to his touch, to the way he made you feel so seen, so good.

Every movement he made, every sound you gave him, only fueled the connection between you two. This wasn’t just physical—it was raw, emotional, a dance of vulnerability and trust. And Bradley loved hearing you like this, loved knowing he was the one who could make you feel this way.

Every touch, every flick of his tongue, every deliberate movement made your entire body hum with need. You felt yourself coming undone, the sensations overwhelming as your breath hitched and your body responded to him.

Then, with one final, deliberate motion, Bradley pushed you over the edge. Your back arched as the release washed over you, your body trembling in waves of pleasure. A gasp escaped your lips, followed by a low moan, as the intensity of the moment left you breathless, unable to form words. It was the first time a guy had made you finish just with his mouth and hands, and it left you gasping, completely undone.

Bradley’s lips curled into a satisfied smile as he crawled back up the bed, his hands gently brushing the hair away from your face. His eyes were soft with affection, his gaze intense as he looked down at you, making sure you were okay. 

“You alright?” he asked, his voice hushed, a mix of concern and pride.

You nodded, still panting slightly, the aftermath of the orgasm leaving you weak but content. 

“Yeah,” you breathed, your voice unsteady. “I’m… I’ve never felt anything like that before.”

Bradley chuckled softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he leaned down to kiss you gently, a tender contrast to the intensity of the moments before. “I’m glad I could give that to you,” he said, his voice warm and full of sincerity.

You smiled up at him, feeling a mix of vulnerability and comfort, knowing that this moment was something you’d never forget. His presence, the way he made you feel, was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before.

Bradley settled beside you, keeping you close, his hand resting on your waist as he held you. Bradley’s hand gently traced patterns on your skin as he settled next to you, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. 

“So, what do you want to try next?” he asked, his voice low, a mix of curiosity and amusement.

You blinked up at him, feeling a newfound boldness. Without missing a beat, you shot him a playful smirk. “I want to ride you.”

The words hung in the air for a moment before Bradley’s eyes darkened, his breath hitching at the unexpectedness of your response. A grin spread across his face, his hands moving quickly as he pulled you on top of him, your bodies aligning with a hunger that was only growing. 

“Damn, baby,” he groaned, the thought of you in control sending heat shooting through his veins. 

You both shared a laugh, the playful tension still crackling in the air, before the moment turned more serious again. But this time, there was no question—the night was only just beginning.

[drdemonprince]

I think I may be autistic but I have no idea what to do with this information and I'm also kind of worried im trying to make myself fit into it if that makes sense? I have been diagnosed with ADHD officially, but I'm not sure, maybe I have both?

"Am I Autistic or Not" isn't really a helpful question. It's so big, and so abstract. Try asking yourself questions that are smaller and more concrete. Things like:

Which sensations are really difficult for me to handle? Do I experience sensory overloads? What can I do to reduce or prevent future sensory overloads?

Which sensations are really pleasurable for me? How can I incorporate more of those sensations into my life?

What activities or topics do I find very stimulating, thought-provoking, or exciting? How can I make more time in my life for pursuing those activities? Where can I meet other people who also enjoy those things?

Which aspects of socializing do I find hard? What do I find draining, uncomfortable, or confusing? Is there anyone I can ask for help understanding the things I find confusing? Are there social performances I can try doing less often, or less intensely?

Which activities seem to drain me more than other people, and how can I get the rest I need? Do I need far more recharge time after socializing than most people I know? Do organizational or administrative tasks like cleaning my house or answering emails take a lot of out me? Is there anyone I can ask for support, or any responsibilities I can let go of (or half ass)?

Finally, where do I feel at home? Which spaces make me feel comfortable? Which communities seem to get me? Who do I enjoy being around? Who brings out a playful, lighter, opener side of me? Where do I hate being and who do I dread being around? What do I need out of my home environment in order to feel at peace? How can I bring more of the positive into my life and reduce my contact with the negative?

Are you Autistic, Anon? -- my answer is, who cares? It doesn't matter. You don't ever have to answer that if you don't want to. Use whatever term you want, whenever it feels right. In the meantime, find the spaces, experiences, and people that help you feel less broken. That might include Autistic spaces, as well as other neurodivergent or queer ones. That's fine. Explore widely. Each one of us is a complex enough person that we can't be contained entirely by a single community, identity label, or space.

Private questions of identity matter very little if we aren't actually living out that identity in community with other people. Find the spaces, people, and activities that are good for you -- and if many of them are also very good for Autistic people, well then congrats, you're our kin, whether your choose to adopt the label or not.

Further reading:

[faeryarchives]

to my beloved (octavinelle x gn!s/o)

requested by anon: Hello! Welcome back from your hiatus! Hope you’re doing alright and relaxing. For request, may I request headcanons of Azul, Floyd, and Jade please? Pre-established relationship and their gn!s/o who likes to give gifts as a love language? Like handmade gifts or found trinkets/baubles the boys might enjoy. Thank you for your consideration! note: anon u are so sweet 🤍 hihi gift giving love language with octatrio sounds so interesting + SO i got into debate last night with my friends on what pre established means if it has no label yet or just having a crush so i decided to write it at the stat of their relationship recent works: i'm not jealous !! (savanaclaw x gn!reader) & octavinelle with a fischl like female reader! & let me kiss you

💌 azul ashengrotto

"oh, a gift for me? do perhaps need my help?" "oh silly azul! i knitted that octopus keychain for you! don't you want to have a little companion while you work?"

this was new to azul - both being in relationship with you and receiving such gifts because as someone wary of apparent gestures of goodwill and believing that “all contracts come with a price” he isn't use to receiving gifts just because it reminds you of him

is it for real? he tried asking you for the fifth time to confirm only to receive the same answer over and over again

he never met someone as generous as him 😭

"azul! azul! look! i got us matching bracelet, this one actually matches your eyes." "o-oh my word, matching bracelets?! aren't we too young for that?!" "...'zul we just kissed earlie-"

having to receive gifts from you just makes his heart so full especially when you also give him coins! + adds it to his collection

expect to see him putting some of your gifts on a special shelf in his office while your other gifts especially plushies are safely tucked in his bed (he sleeps hugging them)

as much as he loves receiving gifts from you, azul wants to give you with the same thought as you have - giving you the things that reminds him of you

"please my love, accept my gift. you've showered me so much love. it would be just fair if i also shower you the same"

💌 jade leech

at first jade was confused - why are you avoiding his eyes and hiding something behind your back?

"love, what are you hiding behind your back" "jade! funny thing, so the ghosts at the ramshackle dorm got me into knitting and so i was thinking maybe a scarf would be nice so-" "so this is a scarf you made for... me? i love it." "really?!"

giving you a little push was his best decision because before jade knew it - his room is covered with gifts from you

receiving something from you as well as seeing you smiling and happy is the best thing he could ever get as a gift

always show your gift to floyd every time to the point that the other eel start to whine to you about jade bragging

"jade cried?!" "yeah! he was wiping his tears after opening one of your letters with "open when you are happy"!" "he can cry...?"

he couldn't help it you know - receiving small trinkets to small envelops with letters from you? can a person could even love him more than this?

in return, jade would try to give you more practical gifts like the things that needs to be repaired back at your dorm, he would replace it with a functioning one! feeling cold and alone at night even when you are with grim - this eel will give you the most comfortable pillows and blankets and even gift grim a new bed!

"jade, i don't think i deserve it?" "nonsense, you deserve everything in this world has to offer."

💌 floyd leech

"floyd, do you have a moment?" "what's up shrimpy- oh, a shrimp brooch?" "i found it while going on shopping with grim earlier at sam's shop, i just thought you might like it."

like it? floyd loves it! you will never catch him not having that brooch on him every day + wears it like a medal

but there was so much more he didn't expect like you to have more under your sleeves!

"an explosion box for me? shrimpy, i thought you were busy this whole week?" "i did! but i will be never busy in creating and giving you something while i am away."

floyd is more like a physical touch giver but seeing you putting so much effort in your gifts - giving him from small to big valuable things it would be unfair if he doesn't give anything back (or so he thought)

this eel tried asking what you want only to receive vague answers

"what do you want shrimpy?" "i don't really need anything in return you know? i gave you gifts because i love to shower you with it." "so it's okay to also give you anything?"

and by mean of anything - you were in for a ride because you two meant things differently 😭

floyd is the type to always let you borrow his clothes from time to time and sometimes gifts you the same jacket for you to guys match + seeing an eel plushie? bought and giving it to you for you to hug your child every night (he said its your child now)

it doesn't take too long for both of you showering each other with gifts 😭 he never knew it would be this fun to think something for you

"you were looking at that necklace when we were walking around town, so i thought it would be a perfect fit for you. do you love it, shrimpy?"

[moonsaver]

THANK YOU FOR READING MY RAMBLE ABOUT THIS SLUTTY MAN, I have love-hate relationship with Ratio :3 (YOUR WRITING IS AMAZING AS ALWAYS)

BUT ALSO, ANOTHER RAMBLE HERE CAUSE YOU'RE MY FAVORITE WRITER!!

I don't know if you feel uncomfortable/weirded out with this, but if you do! Please do delete this if you want, it's your choice!!

Imagine a child, it can be one of those children in Penacony or other planets. But I pick the child from the Penacony! Walking up to Ratio and S/O, who is probably bickering as per usual or just enjoying one of another times (Secretly, since Ratio wants to be a secretive or this is same past-rebelious but now Professor S/O!)

As the child tugs on S/O, calling them pretty and hugs them. THEN PROCEEDED TO BE LIKE "kay now, you're my parent/mother/father"

LIKE:

"Hey miss/mister/mx! You look very pretty/handsome/unique! Will you be my parent?"

IMAGINE RATIO REACTION, *IF* THE KID IS GONNA BE LIKE

"oh, you're going to be my dad as well/other father/other parent!

OR THE OTHER WAY, HOGGING S/O ATTENTION. Clinging On S/O, regardless how many times S/O tries to get the kid back at their actual and real parents here, and would sometimes spend time hanging out with the kid while also trying to search for the kid parent

(AND ALSO I'M GOING TO SEND SOME RAMBLE ABOUT ROBIN (if you Dont mind!) MY BABY DESERVES THE BEST)

Hello anon! Always happy to answer brain rots and imagines and rambles hehe. Glad to see you back in my inbox!

Also, so cute hehe.

I imagine Dr. Ratio is actually pretty good with kids. The thing with kids is most of them love asking a shit ton of questions, the most ridiculous kinds at that. And you know those people who are so damn smart and knowledgeable in their field they start thinking about possibilities of ridiculous ideas as actually plausible? Veritas would kind of teeter on that when it comes to kids and their imagination. I just can't help but imagine kids crawling all over him while he has a rubber duck in his hand and explains like.. hawking radiation to a kid who's just staring blankly at him.

Honestly, kids would love him. Hes the strange, serious man who always bends down and tells you really confusing but fun stuff about things and seems to know everything. To them, hes the "actual adult".

I imagine, in the case a lost child approaches him or him with his s/o, his first instinct would be just to gauge the general state. He'll simply watch as you pick up the kid and coo at him and all the willy nilly stuff, just glancing over and checking for injuries, signs of anxiety or confusion, frustration, or fear. After he's done looking over, he'd try to ask the child about where their parents are when they perk up about how both of you are their parents now.

Well.. he doesn't know how to respond. You see his eyebrows raise slightly at the kid's remark, but he brushes it off, and starts telling the child all about your embarassing history if you were the rebellious professor!s/o. If you aren't, just about any silly memories he has of you are at the tip of his tongue, and that you really aren't suited for a parental figure. Even if you try and shut him up, he'll simply turn to the kid like, "do not let those who oppress you, silence you." Or something lol.

He doesn't mind the child being all over his s/o, telling them how pretty they are, asking them if they want to be their parent, and so on. Kids are silly, and illogical. It's in their nature to say anything that comes to mind. Of course.. he's slightly sour inside that your conversation was cut short, and now the child's hogging all your attention, but he vehemently pushes it down, simply resolving to search for their parents with you.

It's not soon before the both of you finally find them. Veritas gives them a stern, subtle warning about losing their child while you comfort them, bidding your farewell. It slightly annoys Veritas when the child clings to you, refusing to let go, and all his parents do is laugh it off, saying "they're just very social!" Or something. He has better things to be doing, really. He just walks off and lets you take care of things from there.

If you ask him if he's jealous, he won't say anything, and stare deadpan into your eyes before shrugging it off and changing the topic back to what you both were discussing before. Both of you can have more productive conversations, really.

Although.. his thoughts teeter a bit, and he shortly ponders over what kids with you would be like.. would he want children? Maybe one.. or two.. or even three..

Ugh, he's thinking too far ahead. He resigns to simply paying attention in the present, and listening to you ramble instead.

[stylesparker]

together again

PAIRING: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT: 2.1k

WARNINGS: ex-bestfriend!steve, bullying, panic attack, anxiety, mentioned parent death, angst, hurt/comfort, "i've got you"

A/N: sorry this request took so long, but I hope you enjoy anon! Thank you for checking with me first, and I hope this can offer you a little more comfort! <33

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Huh?" You knock yourself out of your stupor and look at Steve, his eyes gazing gravely at you. His arms are crossed, his hair is all styled up to perfection like always, and you think to yourself- how is it that you've been paired up with Steve Harrington, again, for another stupid project? Why you, of all people?

You definitely have to be cursed.

"You heard me, right?" He confirms. "My house after school?"

You nod, almost rolling your eyes a bit. "Yeah, totally." You huff before you ask, "since when have you been one to get a head start on school work?"

He chuckles, but it sounds more sarcastic than genuine, "Since I needed a good grade in this class to graduate, L/N. I'll see you later." He pushes off the wall, sauntering away in those stupid ass jeans that actually kind of make his ass look good. You shake your head, looking away from the boy and turn to face your locker once more.

As soon as you close it with your backpack over your shoulder, you hear familiar whistles coming towards you down the hallway.

Shit.

You start walking, hoping within an inch of your life these shitheads aren't coming to you, but you know better. A hand clamps over your shoulder, squeezing a little too hard for you to know exactly who it is.

Justin Andrews, the biggest dick in Hawkins.

"Heya, sweetheart, you miss me?" He laughs right into your ear.

"Not exactly."

"Oh, I know you did. Where ya' been? Haven't seen you around all week, was sorta starting to miss this pretty ass." His friends laugh beside him as his hand drifts down your shoulder and smacks your ass, catching you off guard and making you flinch farther from his hold.

"Been sick." That's all you answer, thinking maybe putting him off with short responses will get him to find somebody else, but again, you know better than to think this will be different than any other time before.

"Damn, that's a shame. I'm sure those kids of yours got a nice break from ya' then huh?" You glare at him as he offers a wide-grinned smile, winking at you before leaving you with another smack to the ass as a parting gift. As Justin and his pack of friends depart, you hurry away as fast as you can down the hall and out the doors before they can even think of coming back.

Once you finally get to your car and get inside, you throw your stuff to the passenger seat and take a deep breath to try and calm yourself down. There was no way you were going to last period after that, and besides, your youngest little brother needed to be picked up from daycare today anyway. Luckily your other four siblings are a bit older and take the bus now, otherwise you probably would have dropped out at this point. You take another deep breath and drive off in hopes of getting your brother quickly, and home on time so you don't show up late to Steve's.

You do not want to deal with an angry Steve.

...

As the universe would have it, everything was against you today.

First, you almost got hit by some drunk pulling out of the bar halfway to the daycare. Once you got to the daycare, you had to wait half an hour since your brother had a tantrum and didn't want to leave in the middle of snack time. By the time you got him out of there, and into your car in his blue booster seat, it had been another 20 minutes. Usually it's about a 15 minute drive home from the daycare, but it ended up being a half hour due to traffic. After you finally made it home, you got a call from your boss asking you to come in again later tonight to take another extra shift since your shitty co-worker hasn't been showing up for two weeks.

At that point, you were about to lose it. You'd just gotten home and now you had to miss another family dinner tonight, much to your brother's disappointment. You wish you had just a moment to breathe, but everything has been so... chaotic lately, it's like you've been running a marathon for a month straight.

You opened the cabinet to see what food was in there, but it was only half a bag of stale potato chips, and a couple boxes of your sisters' favorite cereal. You sighed, holding your empty stomach. Leftovers tonight would have to suffice.

You took a quick glance at the clock at the wall, but did the world's fastest double take when you saw the time 4:30.

SHIT. You think. Steve is going to murder me.

Thankfully, you hear your mom pull in the driveway so at least you're not leaving your brother home alone. You grab your backpack and bolt out the door with your keys in your hand. You scream a quick goodbye to your mom while she watches you pull out of the driveway like a madman, and take off in a rush.

Fifteen minutes later, you're pulling into Steve's huge driveway, slamming the door behind you, and running up to the door with big huffs to try and catch your breath. You knock on the door three times, and pull your hand back down when you see the door already opening in front of you. When the door is opened, you're confronted by the boy you were dreading to see.

"I'm sorry-" you begin to apologize, but Steve immediately cuts you off.

"Are you serious? I asked you if after school worked and you told me it was fine, and now you're an hour and a half late!"

"Steve-" you try again, but he continues. You stand there, taking in his anger and frustration, and all you can do is blankly stare and nod, not even knowing what you're agreeing with. You shut your eyes and look at the ground, willing the tears to stay back while you twist your fingers in your hands. You don't even know when his voice lost its edge or when it even stopped at all, or when you'd been pulled inside and asked if you were alright. Your eyes are still closed, but your head feels like it's going to explode and you can't hear what he's saying. The tears are streaming down your face before you can help it, and your hands start shaking from how hard you're trying to hold back.

Steve's so taken aback, he can't even speak. He hasn't seen you like this in a long time, not since your dad died and you practically became a parent to your siblings. His heart breaks a little bit at the sight of you, and he feels a part of his old self coming back, wanting to comfort you and protect you just like he did growing up. Just like he's done his whole life, apart from the entirety of this year. He doesn't even care he's supposed to hate you and you're supposed to hate him in this moment, all he knows is that he's the only person that can help you right now, and he's going to do just that.

Steve's face loses its concern and he jumps into protective mode, bringing his hands up to hold either side of your face to get you to look at him.

"Sweetheart, I need you to calm down for me, yeah? What's going on, talk to me."

You stubbornly shake your head and refuse to look up at him. Your chest is still heaving rapidly, and he can tell you can't catch your breath.

"Don't be stubborn right now, I can't help you if you don't let me and you need to let me help you. I can't have you passing out on my floor now can I?" He tries to joke, but you don't get distracted, you keep your eyes down even though they've opened. He sighs, dropping one of his hands to grab yours and place them over his chest. "Slow down, take a deep breath, love."

"I-I can't-" you sputter out to the best of your ability, letting your hand ball his shirt up into a fist.

"Yes, you can. Take a good deep breath," you listen to him momentarily, following what he's doing, and when you do he nods and gives you a nice, soft smile, "there ya go, love, you got it. Do it again."

Seeing him be like this for you again brings you back to all those times you've needed him before, the memories almost came flooding back when you heard his loud voice turn soothing in an instant, just for you. His touch had always been grounding, always took off the pressure and allowed you to come back down, and you hadn't expected it to be the same after so much time apart, but now, it's like nothing changed. He's still Steve- he's still your Steve.

That thought alone comforts you more than anything else.

"Steve-" you whisper softly, "I'm so- sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Sweetheart, don't-"

"No, I have to. I've been horrible to you, and now you're helping me- I just-" you drop your head on his chest, and finally tell him everything. "I feel like I've just been going and going non-stop, and today was it, it was my absolute breaking point. After you, and Justin-"

"Justin? Are you- Are you serious? Is he still giving you shit?"

You gulp, "yeah," but you shake your head quickly, "but he's not even the worst thing, I just... ugh," you stop yourself before you start crying again but Steve feels like he knows.

"When's the last time you got some sleep?"

"I don't know.. a couple days ago?"

"Oh my god," he drops his head back and groans, which actually makes you laugh a bit. He immediately looks down at you, realizing the talking stopped you from panicking, or at least distracted you from it. "Hey," he nudged you a bit, getting you to look up at him, "I'm sorry too. I shouldn't of yelled at you, and I definitely shouldn't have left you that night-"

"That's not your fault, Steve. I pushed you away."

"Yeah, and I shouldn't have let you."

You look at each other for a moment, like, really look at each other. It's been so long since you've been able to hold each other like this, it almost doesn't feel real.

"C'mon, let's get you something to eat."

"It's fine-" you start, before he cuts you off again.

"No, shut up. If you haven't been sleeping, you definitely haven't been eating either, so let's go." He left no room for debate, so you just took his hand and followed him, letting him lead you through his house.

He gives you a couple of your favorite snacks, since he didn't have any sort of meals yet, but you seemed very content, so he thought it was better than nothing. He let you take your time, rubbed your back while you told him about the rest of your shitty day, and grabbed your hand again when he started up the stairs to his room.

"What about the project?" You asked.

"That can wait. You need some sleep first."

"Steve-"

He shook his head, "Nope. Not happening."

At last, you gave up and followed his lead again, which, as much as you'd hate to admit it, it felt nice letting someone else lead you around for a change instead of the other way around. For so long, it's been you taking charge and always bossing your siblings around, but it feels relieving to have Steve with you again to remind you it didn't always have to be that way.

You pulled back the covers in his bed and laid down, not even having to ask for Steve to join you, him already doing the same on the other side. Almost as if no time had passed, you curled up against one another, resting your head on his chest, and his arms wrapping around you to pull you close.

"Go to sleep. I've got you."

His hands rub gentle circles on your back, soothing you and releasing the tension from your body as you slowly relax enough to fall asleep. You fight to keep your eyes open as long as you can, savoring this moment with him, almost as if he won't be here when you wake up.

"Don't worry, I'll be here."

Those words pull at your heartstrings, making you hold him tighter and bury yourself into him deeper, if you even can. Knowing that you're together again has you finally closing your eyes, and falling into a peaceful sleep.

[thydungeongal]

Hi, same anon obsessed with morality.

Okay, I admit that my ask was a bit too emotional because non-evil original roleplaying games exist even in sword and sorcery style (World of Dungeons and Oracle are some I would recommend), and existence of Gondal setting testifies that it's not a male thing in any way.

However, my probably naive concern goes a little further - I don't play D&D, but I use it for monsters and settings. It's hard to invent absolutely everything from a scratch, you know? But this leads to an ethical concern I have - doing this is still feeding into D&D hegemony and embracing Gygax's and Arneson's rotten legacy (though I am starting to think that Gygax was a lesser evil, holy fuck). And let's not fool ourselves here - derivative games like Pathfinder or Knave are still their legacy (though maybe Cairn isn't, I am not sure).

So like, what are options of games that are generic fantasy that have a lot of monsters and settings to steal and that are also both not "D&D but different" and aren't objectively evil?

I know literally a handful of candidates, so I am asking your followers to share. And no, Warhammer isn't such game.

What I remember is:

Fantasy Age is not without a sin, but it's presented as "you can depict these demi-humans as equal people or you can be a hitler, it's up to you", so progress I guess?

Jackals is built on OpenQuest and is pretty generic if you exclude it being about bronze age, but I remember some potentially creepy details of how it treats demi-humans

Blue Rose looks the most morally fine, but it's not exactly generic

Lightmaster is ugh, because it doesn't have inherently evil demi-humans, but it has inherently different demi-humans who are always savages, so it's a thin ice (though otherwise it's a blast)

D6 Fantasy doesn't really have monsters in core book, but there are probably third-party bestiaries that may even not be vile

GURPS does have bestiaries of fantasy creatures, but I don't know anything about their morality

IDK about rolemaster, but you said that it's not good.

So like, which extremely ethical non-OSR heartbreaker that was published ever am I missing? Should I look into Das Schwarze Auge, or does it suck the same way?

Ultimately I think you're thinking about this too much to your own detriment. It's good to be aware of the fact that lots of (especially older) fantasy stuff does carry some fucked up expectations and approach it with a critical eye so you don't end up replicating it, but if you become single-minded in your pursuit of the perfect, unproblematic fantasy RPG you're not only setting yourself up for disappointment but also denying yourself a lot of stuff that's good but flawed.

Anyway, not a game but a supplement for OSR games, but Skerples' Monster Overhaul is pretty good in this regard and does this via simply accepting the revolutionary paradigm of "orcs are just some guys."

Another game out of the left field, Chivalry & Sorcery is really surprising in this regard, because it's the sort of game that gives off vibes of being written by "the presence of women in a medieval setting is extremely inaccurate" types, but the authors actually make a point of saying that player enjoyment and comfort should always take precedence over adherence to historicity when it comes to issues like players wanting to play women or queer characters. But it's in its treatment of orcs and trolls (and as far as I've understood, dwarves and elves too, but I haven't read that supplement yet) where it gets really cooking. Chivalry & Sorcery is a game written by medieval history nerds and they wanted their game's worldbuilding to adhere to a medieval European paradigm. So when it came to adding orcs into the game the authors asked "how would orcs fit into the worldview of a medieval Christian?"

The answer is that just as medieval Christian philosophers mused that if cynocephali or those guys who only had one big foot were to exist then surely they must be just some guys, orcs would also have to be just some guys. This means that they would be human in terms of having been created by God and tracing descent to Adam and Eve and also could receive the eucharist and be saved.

Anyway, all of which is to say that the middle ages were woke,

[contentloadingandstuff]

Ah. I didn't finish the last one, so you could discard that one. Maybe a few girls of your choosing plus Yelan with a super nice, caring, and gentle S/O that doesn't want to have sex and the reason to that is because he has a 4 inch pp. Maybe he feels insecure that when they found out they would leave him? Maybe some reassurance from the girls that they wouldn't leave him or something.

Powerful Genshin girls comforting a small S/O

A/N: I hope you like it, anon!

Characters: Yae Miko, Yelan & Ningguang

CW: Male!Reader, smutiness.

Miko narrows her eyes as you speak. When you're done, she keeps still, staring you dead in the eye. Then, she blinks once. Twice. 

"You can't be serious."

You look down, ashamed. But before you can apologize, Miko quickly steps towards you, aiming her finger at your chest. Her eyes glimmer pink with Electro. You instinctively raise your hands and start backing up. With every word she jabs your chest. Not nearly enough to hurt you, but painful all the same. 

"You are telling me you didn't bed me because you were insecure about your dick? Is that right??" 

You nod shyly. "Yes…" 

"And…" She looks you square in the eye. "... you were scared that I would leave you for a dick???" 

"I… yes…" 

You're against the wall now. Miko growls, and pins her hands on the wall on the sides of your head. 

"Oh, this is not only idiotic, but downright insulting."

You look down, blushing slightly in embarrassment. It really was stupid of you to think that. You open your mouth to apologize, but she immediately covers it with her hand. 

"You've said enough. To think so low of me… Hm! Let me make something clear, Y/N." She points at your crotch. "This? The appeal of this is that it's attached to you, and not the other way around. I don't care if it's microscopic or monstrous, because as long as it is yours, I want it. Did I make myself clear?" 

You nod. 

"Good." She grabs your chin with her hand, forcing you to look in her eyes. "Now… I want to take you, you big idiot, for a test ride. You'll be lucky to have a single thought after what I'll do to you, my dear."

Yelan smiles softly. 

"Oh? Is that right?" Yelan chuckles. "That's a relief, actually. You got me thinking that you want to break up, or you don't really like me."

"Well… sorry."

Your girlfriend raises her brow and smirks. "For what exactly?" 

"For being this way, I guess. For not being able to satisfy you."

“You're really quick to make assumptions, aren't you? What makes you think that?"

Yelan moves behind you, dragging her fingertips over the curve of your back."I… well, if it's small there's no fun, right?" 

She laughs, and snakes her hands around your stomach. You feel her chin rest on your shoulder. 

"You're so cute, you know that? And a little oblivious as well…" She caresses your chest, scratching at it lightly with her nails. "You can use much more than just your shaft, hm? How about those hands? They give the best massages I've ever experienced… You're also a great kisser with a more than agile tongue… Oh, just look at me. Daydreaming about just what mileage I can get out of your body…" 

She slowly pulls her hands and face away. Before she fully retreats, she gives you a small kiss on your cheek. You turn around, blushing. “Yelan…?”

She laughs, mockingly, but there’s no bite to it. 

“What? Now you want it? Oh Y/N…” She stretches out her hand towards you. “Alright, but no more of those pointless anxieties. I love you no matter what you have or don’t have. Can you do that for me?”

You take her hand.

“I will… thank you, my love.”

“No problem. Now come on, there’s no time to waste. I need some… answers.”

Ningguang inhales her pipe calmly, looking at you with her signature, expecting expression. She exhales the smoke, and shakes her head. 

"You men are all the same, aren't you?"

"What…?" 

She sighs. "It's all a competition for you. Even the stupidest things. Like who has the biggest salary, status, cock. It's so infantile."

She raises from her seat, and approaches you slowly. Her every step echoes through the Jade Chamber. She stands before you, hands crossed over her chest. 

"It's foolish because you never compare what actually matters. You never compare what's here." She places her hand on your chest, right over your beating heart. "You never compete over how big your heart is, how beautiful and colorful your soul is. Loyalty, passion, devotion… Do those not matter to you?" 

You avoid her eyes, embarrassed. 

"I'm sorry for bothering you, Ningguang." 

"No, don't be. It's a natural concern. Does it make you feel any less of a man, perhaps?" 

You don't answer right away, instead taking your time to think over her words. Before you can answer, she continues. 

"A man's value doesn't lie in what he carries between his legs, my love. It lies in what he holds dear, in his values and his personality. You are caring, loving, protective and loyal. You know how to treat me right. Is that not enough proof of your validity?"

"I… suppose you're right. Thank you Ningguang." 

She smiles, and sets down her spent pipe. She places her hand on your cheek, and closes in for a kiss. 

"You're welcome. Any time you feel like you're not enough, come to me and I'll remind you of just how valuable you are to me. Alright?" 

"Alright."

Your lips meet in a soft kiss.

Thanks for reading!

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

M6 after seeing a sad play/reading a sad book?

The Arcana HCs: M6 when MC cries over a sad story

~ I hope you don't mind my take on the prompt, anon, but I couldn't pass up the chance to have the M6 comfort a sad fiction-loving MC. This is for anyone who's read a reversed ending XD enjoy! - brainrot ~

Julian

Initially thrown into a slight panic. You're crying. Are you hurt? Where does it hurt? Tell him, he wants to help fix it!

Once he knows the tears are from emotional pain, his priority is on comforting you. Immediately pulls you into his chest and gives you one of his famous hugs

But also, why are you crying? Is the story really that gut-wrenching?

Morbidly intrigued, because it seems like a strangely cathartic way to wallow in grief and despair that doesn't involve drinking himself under the table, all alone in the corner of the Rowdy Raven while Barth counts his drinks and looks annoyingly concerned for him

Hesitantly asks if he could read it too

Devours the entire thing in one sitting, somehow gets even more invested than you do and turns into a sniffling mess when the angst hits. It hurts so good, and not even in the way he's used to!

Somehow listening to him wax poetic about the tragedy of the characters makes your own pain feel a little sweeter

Now you've got him in your arms while he works out his feelings, and you two are definitely doing this again, this is amazing

Asra

Drops everything as soon as they hear the first sniffles from your direction

He can tell from your bond that you're experiencing some serious grief, and he's so sweetly worried about you that he's not asking any questions, he's just curling up with you and wiping your tears

They do piece it together after a few minutes though - either by noticing the story in your hands or because you straight up told them

So relieved when he finds out it was just a story (he was starting to worry that somebody had died) that he starts to laugh

Which of course lands them in so much hot water, because it's not just a story, those characters were real in your heart and they won't stop giggling while they pet you and seriously Asra, it's not funny while you struggle not to join in

You both know that he hasn't actually done anything wrong, but he still feels bad for laughing so he tries to earn your forgiveness by cheering you up

Dropping little trinkets in your lap, telling you the cheesiest jokes, tickling you with kisses until they see that smile again and all is right with the world

Nadia

Goes straight into problem-solving mode as soon as she sees your tear-streaked face

Something's happened to hurt you. What is it?

Will not take silence for an answer, she'll treat you gently but she won't let up until you tell her why you're crying (even if you feel a little foolish about it - she takes you very seriously)

And it's because she takes you so seriously that she's very torn on how to react when the truth comes out: you read a sad story

It's cuteness overload for her. It doesn't matter how pretty or ugly of a crier you are, the sheer amount of empathy you're displaying right now is going straight to her heart and she is struggling

Will pull you straight into her chest to cuddle you and let you cry it out so you can't see the amused grin on her face

She is biting her lip to keep from fawning over you, because the last thing she wants to do is to make you feel small or foolish but oh my goodness you're adorable like this and it's taking all of her self restraint not to squeeze you to death right now

If there are suddenly more tragedies lying around in the library, no there aren't

Muriel

Very concerned

It doesn't matter to him how big or small the issue is that's causing you so much pain, you're clearly hurting and he's sad to see it

Will approach you very gently and quietly ask if there's anything he can do to help you feel better, or if you just want some space for a while to process whatever it is that's making you cry

Perfectly fine with letting you snuggle up to him. Hey, he has a whole big cloak that makes for excellent tear-wiping material

He's the kind of guy who will sit quietly and give you the most nonjudgmental attention, for as long as you need it to feel seen and heard and validated

Cue you breaking down and giving him the most teary, disjointed version of the story you've read while his big, calloused thumbs brush away whatever's left of your tears

Because there was this character, right? And you really, really liked him, ok? And then this terrible thing happened, and it sounds pretty bad, but when you add the backstory to it it only gets worse -

He's having a little difficulty following you, but he's listening to you and he's holding you and he's definitely hiding that book

Portia

Oh, you found a tear-jerker

She's read a few of those. You should have seen her back when she was practicing her reading while Nadia was in a coma, she had this tragedy phase and went through so many handkerchiefs

Easily the best-prepared for this. She knows how cathartic it is to cry it out, so she sets you up on her sofa with some tea and snacks and a fluffy blanket and the cat until you feel better

Now that you've recovered, and she's buttered you up ...

Tell her which book it was

Because she's read so many at this point, and she's halfway hoping it's one that she knows so she can commiserate with you and gush over the characters

And if it's one that she hasn't read yet, she still wants to know because it's been way too long since she's read something that really tugged at her heart strings and she misses the angst!

Either way, now that she knows you enjoy that she's starting a book club with you

Fictional angst sessions are so much livelier when she's sitting across from you, punching a throw pillow while she rants

Lucio

Upset on your behalf as soon as he sees your state. Why is his MC crying? Nobody makes his MC cry!

He's a little disheartened when you tell him it was just a story you read and the ending was sadder than you expected it to be and now you just need to cry about it a little

Wraps his cloak around you first and then both his arms (he doesn't want the cold metal to shock or pinch you) and asks what happened. What went wrong? Who did this to you, MC? Who does he need to fight?

Takes a moment to offer you a manly shoulder to cry on while he tries to figure out his next move

Can he read? Yes. Does he spend a lot of time reading? Not really. Can he relate to what you're going through right now? Nope

Starts listing off suggestions for how he can make you feel better. Do you want to pet the dogs? Do some magic? Eat some food?

Spots the book you were reading at one point and grabs it right out of your hands. He would shred it if you didn't ask him to be careful with it, so he settles for scolding the inanimate object that made you cry

Very self-satisfied at the giggle that gets out of you

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Just One More

I love your SaSi fics! Might I request some touch-starved analogical? No pressure tho! *disappears in a poof of smoke, leaving a plate of cookies for you* – amateurmasksmith

hello! i'd hate to be a bother but i love your writing so much and would love to see some more logan hurt/comfort? Any type works but there isn't enough highschool au!Logan overworking himself and the others not noticing until he's completely burnt out and realising that Logan is a lot more damaged than they thought in my opinion <3- anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: overworking, burn out

Pairings: analogical

Word Count: 2377

Just one more. Just one more. Just one more.

It's been just one more for the past hour and a half, but that's beside the point. If he thinks about how much he still has to do, he'll get so overwhelmed he can't do anything but stare at the mountains of work piling up in front of him. But if he thinks about it as just one more, then he can do just one more. And he'll do it over and over and over again until there aren't any one mores to be just.

He pinches the bridge of his nose. He's getting lyrical again. Anytime he starts to wax poetic he knows Roman's overworking tendencies are rubbing off on him again.

Now, that's not to say that Roman always overworks, it's just that out of their friend group, one of them has this habit of pulling all-nighters and downing coffee as though it could replace the blood in his veins if he tried hard enough, and one of them has a color coded schedule that marks out just how much he can get away with before he has to take a break to drink water, eat food, or recover some semblance of sanity before he loses it to equations and spreadsheets beyond number. Said schedule might have been, ahem, put off for a little bit too long in order to allow for such repeated actions as just one more, but that's beside the point. Beside several points, actually, and he'd rather not think about it right now when he should be focusing on the just one mores.

His pen scribbles down the answer and without blinking, he picks up the page and flips it over so he can start working on the next problem. He's already broken down the respective equations by the time his brain catches up to the fact that this is not, in fact, just one more.

Just one more.

What time is it? He doesn't know. He doesn't particularly care. He has work to do, that's far more important. Besides, it's not as though he'll suffer egregiously if he works a little later than he's supposed to. He's the one who allocates his time, if he has an issue with how he's spending it, he'll take it up with himself later. After this one. After this next one. Just one more.

He blinks. Oh, his eyes were closed. That's annoying. How is he supposed to work with his eyes closed? His gives his head a good shake and promptly cries out from the pain. That's bizarre, when did his headache get so bad? He's supposed to drink water every fifteen minutes to keep his fluid intake constant, and that helps keep the headaches at bay. He reaches out blindly for the water bottle and gropes thin air. That's weird. His water bottle should be right there. He turns his head to look—

He cries out in pain again. That's not right. Why is his neck so sore? He's supposed to take breaks to look around to make sure his muscles don't get too stiff from staring at the same place all day. Come to think of it, he's also supposed to be doing his eye relaxation too to make sure he doesn't focus in too hard and risk losing his peripheral vision. Granted, that is more common in fields where attention to fine detail is much more common, but it can't hurt to be cautious. In this case, it's hurting him not to be cautious. Perhaps he's focused in too deep…missed the forest for the trees…and now it's hard to see…isn't it a challenge to be free?

Now he's rhyming.

What time is it?

His hand flops uselessly down to the side. It's burning. Is it burning? No, pins and needles, that's the term. That's the term for when his circulation isn't making it all the way to the end of his fingers, why is that? How can that be? It hasn't been that long, has it? He has work to do, he can't have been so careless with his time that he's forgotten he has work to do? No, he'll rally himself to do just one more.

Just one more.

His hand clatters uselessly against the desk.

Just one more.

His notebook slides off into his lap and splays out on the floor like a corpse.

Just one more.

His eyes slide shut.

Just one more.

He falls forward.

Just one more.

He hits the desk and something is—is—

Just one more.

***

Alright, Virgil's getting nervous.

Not that it's a wild thing for Virgil to get nervous, but it is wild that it's Logan that's making him nervous. Logan's like the beacon of work-life balance, which is why it's fucking weird that Logan of all people isn't here, at breakfast, like they planned last week and confirmed literally every day up until yesterday. Yeah. That's weird. Logan's not here and he's almost a full hour late and Virgil is getting pretty fucking nervous about it.

The clock keeps ticking. And ticking. And ticking.

When it ticks over to yep, Logan's officially a full hour late, Virgil muffles a curse and gets up, stuffing his hands in his pockets. The wind billows around his hood as he hurries across the street, ducking cars and avoiding other people walking around as the sun gets higher and higher and higher. Logan's street isn't far from here, just a few blocks over. His fingers itch at the sound of many passing conversations but he squeezes his hands shut.

No time for music, not right now. Not when he's on a mission.

Logan should've texted if he was running late. Logan always texts when he's running late. And the fact that he hasn't texted saying he's running late means that something is wrong with Logan or something's wrong with Virgil's phone. And given that their group chat has been blowing up all morning as Roman and Janus argue about some video game franchise and who's hotter and who's overrated means that Virgil's phone is working just fine.

So something's wrong with Logan. Which is making Virgil really fucking nervous.

He doesn't even realize his feet have carried him all the way up the stairs to Logan's house until his hand is raised to knock on the door. He does, shuffling a few paces back and waiting until the footsteps on the other side get closer.

"Oh, Virgil," Logan's mom says as she opens the door, "it's good to see you, honey. Are you and Logan still going out for breakfast?"

"Yes, uh, yes, ma'am. I think so, at least."

"You don't need to call me ma'am, honey, you can come in." She waves him inside, smiling kindly when he mumbles something along the lines of I want to 'cause you're always so nice to me, and turns up the stairs. "Logan! Logan, sweetheart, Virgil's here!"

No response. Yep, getting real nervous.

"Do you want to go up, honey? He'll react better if it's you getting him than me."

"Is—is everything okay?"

She looks at him for a moment, her mouth twisting from side to side, before she sighs. "Honestly, I think you've got a better chance of dragging him out of there than I do. He's very reasonable, isn't he? Always coming up with the perfect explanation for what he's doing."

"Uh huh."

"Which is why I think you've got a better chance of just dragging him out to go to breakfast, hm?" She winks as Virgil splutters slightly. "I'm only teasing you, honey. But on a serious note: please, if you can get him out of the house just for a little, I think some fresh air would do him good."

"I'll do my best, ma'am."

"That's a good boy. Go on, now."

Virgil quickly makes his way up the stairs, down the hall, right to Logan's door. Remus made them all signs for their rooms that indicate whether or not they're cool with having people come knock on their doors and for the most part, everyone's parents and siblings have respected them. Logan's has four different markers: Out, In – Disturbable, In – Not Disturbable, and Asleep. The pin is still listed next to Out.

Yep. Yep, yep, yep. All signs lead to being real nervous.

He knocks on the door. "Logan? Hey, L, it's, uh, it's Virgil."

Nothing.

"You, um, you didn't text saying you were late or anything, so I, uh, I got worried."

Still nothing.

"Logan? Logan, I need some sort of sign of life, buddy, or else I'm gonna come in."

When there's yet another round of nothing, he grits his teeth and carefully opens the door, preparing to meet an angry Logan who was just about to text you, Virgil, there wasn't any need for this, or a sleepy Logan who accidentally overslept—it happens, it might have only happened, like, once, but it is possible—or even a Logan who's just about to put his coat on and rush out, but…

But not the Logan who's passed out on his desk, his glasses still on his face and his notebook on the floor.

"Holy shit," Virgil mumbles, rushing over, "Logan? Logan, are you okay?"

He carefully lifts up Logan's arm to get his glasses off his face, wincing at the puddle of drool. The movement makes this high-pitched noise happen and he only belatedly realizes that's Logan making that noise—Logan's still asleep, somehow, but he's—oh, god, Logan's in pain.

"Hey, L," he calls quietly, giving Logan's shoulder a gentle shake, "hey, you gotta wake up, buddy, it's just me, okay? C'mon…"

"V-Virgil?"

"Hey, yeah, you got it, it's me—" he crouches down so Logan can see him— "hey, there he is."

Logan blinks. He's all bleary-eyed and sleep-mussed, his hair sticking up in the wrong places and a crease from where he'd been leaning against his shirt. He blinks a few more times, wincing at the sunlight slanting in through the window, before he cringes and brings a hand to his neck.

"Whoa, hey, what's going on?"

"Hurts."

"What hurts, bud?"

"My head," he whimpers, fuck, okay, Logan's really not okay, "my head hurts."

"Okay. I'm gonna go get you some water, okay? Can I go and do that?"

"Don't leave—wait, please—" a hand grabs his arm as he goes to pull away and Logan lets out another frightened noise— "it's so cold. You're so warm."

"I'm—I'm the warm one? Whoa, hey, hey, hey, I didn't mean it like that," he says, softening his tone when Logan shrinks back, "I just meant that—you know, I run cold as hell and you're…"

He trails off when he sees the tears bubbling at the corners of Logan's eyes. He comes back immediately, going to wrap his arms around Logan's shaking shoulders, muffling a curse when Logan just starts crying harder.

"Hey, hey, buddy, hey, it's okay. I'm right here, I'm not gonna go anywhere, I'm right here. I've got you, you're okay. You're all good, buddy, you hear me? Everything's gonna be okay, you're gonna get all of this out for me, I'm gonna go get you some water and painkillers for your headache, and then we're gonna go get breakfast and have a good day, yeah?"

"I'm sorry—I'm so sorry—"

"Hey, don't worry about it. You know how many times I've been late or missed something? I don't care about that, L, I care about you being okay." He runs his fingers through Logan's hair and Logan shudders. "You…you seem really sensitive right now, bud, have you…have you been dodging Patton's hugs again?"

Logan's silence is telling. Virgil sighs, his breath warming the top of his head, before he pulls away just enough to hook his arms around Logan's waist.

"C'mon," he grunts, lifting Logan up—yes, he is still strong enough to do that, thank you very much, Princey—and carrying him over to the bed, "you need a good cuddle before we go anywhere."

"So much—I had so much work to do, I hadda—I had to finish it, I'm sorry," Logan babbles into Virgil's shoulder as he situates them on the bed, "I didn't—didn't wanna be late, didn't mean to fall asleep, I—"

"Shh, shh, hey, calm down, it's okay. I'm not mad. You're okay, bud, I'm not gonna do anything." He coaxes Logan's head to the crook of his beck. "You're just gonna get some of this out for me, okay? I've got you, you're okay."

"But I gotta do my work!"

"You gotta not let yourself be a wreck first," Virgil points out, not unkindly, "you're stressing yourself out too much and it's gonna be okay, but you gotta—sheesh, Logan, just lemme cuddle you."

"…okay."

It doesn't matter that they end up going to brunch instead of breakfast, not when Logan's finally smiling again. A little sniffly, maybe, but he's at least smiling and his mom ruffles their hair and tells them to order whatever they want—she'll pay them back. No, it's much better because Logan isn't stressing too much about work but instead he's happy and letting Virgil take them on a long walk around the park until they can meet up with the rest of them and Patton can give him a big hug because letting yourself get touch-starved just so you can do your work isn't healthy, Logan. And then of course everyone else wants to hug Logan because Logan's just so huggable.

"Aw, just one more," Remus pouts when Logan says they're all hugging him too much, "just one more?"

Logan looks at Remus, looks at the rest of them, and rolls his eyes fondly as he holds out his arms.

"Just one more."

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[vaspider]

Intro Post, updated March 1, 2023

I post all asks under the name they were submitted under, and I post them when I feel like answering them. I will never honor a request to answer an ask privately or anonymously. Anon is never turned on. These are hard self-care boundaries. Please block the tag "harassment tag" if you don't want to be subjected to some of the horrible shit I get sent sometimes.

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If asking me to boost a post for you, ask at most once per week, and please don't make that the only way you interact with me, or follow me just to send an ask that I boost your posts. I notice, and I'll end up just blocking you if you make me feel "used." It's gross, y'all. I'm glad to help, but don't use me. It's getting to a point where I'm starting to feel pretty gross about it, and I'm one of the more relaxed ppl about boosting posts, so please don't put me in a position where I feel like I have to stop doing it.

I will not debate my identity or its history with anyone. I am a transmasculine non-binary butch lesbian, a cripple, a dyke, and lots of other things, too. You don't get a vote in that, and if any of those words are words you can't stand to have someone use around you in reference to himself, go ahead and block me. I won't censor my identity for your comfort; I took a long time becoming proud of who I am.

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Do the work to root out TERF/2nd-wave "man bad woman good" philosophies from your head. Do the work to root out the gendered behavior you were taught. I am not here to raise other people's children.

I am not here to raise other people's children. My daughter is an adult and I am done being responsible for the experiences of a minor. If you read or interact with me, you acknowledge that you chose to do that and I can't control what happens to what I post once I post it on my Tumblr. People will reblog it and I can't control where it ends up. I can only control what I say in my space, which I do.

Curate your own online experiences. If you don't like seeing what I write, then add 'vaspider' to your "filtered content" list and don't bother me about it. Tumblr is a 17+ environment and I am not responsible for you seeing things you don't like. Adults having adult conversations do not need to be filtered for children. This is your notification.

I’ve been Out for over 30 years. I don't tolerate lectures from strangers, especially people half my age, about history I lived through.

I'm transmasc and if you believe transmisandry/transandrophobia aren't "real things," or that transmascs aren't "really oppressed," please just leave me alone. Oppression Olympics are bad, actually.

My immediate family consists of my partners, my adult daughter, and our dogs.

No one in my immediate family is cis or het. I have been called Spider for 20+ years, & now a lot of people call me Mama Spider. Mom is a role, it need not be gendered.

This is a lot shorter than it used to be. I don't really feel like posting paragraphs explaining stuff anymore.

My icon has lore, apparently.

I post all asks and anon is never turned on.

[z-v06instance]

" NO ONE HOME, BUT THE VOID IS LOUD " a z-v06 (pressure, roblox) ask blog

you've been in blacksite long enough to confidently say you know how this place works. you learn more and more with every painful retry of the same mission: gather the crystal. so, yes, you can confidently say you understand this place, that you know how each of the creatures that lurk the halls of blacksite function. or so you think, for in front of you sits an open locker. you've seen these lockers, infested and plagued by that sickly darkness that you can feel the gaze of lingering on you. it preys upon the ones who are more idiotic than others; the ones who see its eyes and still run to it for safety. you've seen this before - you've seen all of this before. you've looked the void in the eyes, and it has felt like death. yet here you are, looking the open locker in the eyes, waiting for the suction cups of those octopus-like tentacles to latch onto you and pull you in. yet it does not try to grab you. it does not try to harm you. it simply watches you. for the first time you call out to the void. the void answers back.

for your first visit to this blog, it is recommended that you look under the cut. please note: currently this blog is on an indefinite hiatus. i apologise.

" THE VOID BREAKS US, THEN RESHAPES US. " the following sections are ooc ;; dividers by @/saradika

📼 ⎯ hey hey heyy welcome to my lil rp askblog :3 this is like. my first askblog in 5-6 years im rusty as fuck n barely remember shit. 🎬 ⎯ im the mun, itris, but haley works too! after seeing all the pressure askblogs pop up i decided to be a so called "free thinker" and make one myself. 📼 ⎯ how old am i? what's my main? what are my pronouns? what are you, a cop? i'm not tellin' you that! (all jokes aside, i only feel comfortable answerin one of these: just use it/its or ey/em!) 🎬 ⎯ considering there's like jack shit regarding the lore of the void-mass puddles (afaik), a lot of this blog will be headcanon heavy! (..mun is also neurodivergant and that may slip through so mun is sorry if it does. muse is not intended to be neurodivergant) 📼 ⎯ english is not my first language and i have dislexia so. im so sorry if shit i say doesn't make sense or my spelling is wackers 🙏 i also make up words sometimes without realising it. i am so sorry 🎬 ⎯ i dont usually use tonetags, so ask me if you need me to clarify my tone! 📼 ⎯ aaalright i think this is enough rambling. ya think it's time for us to hop onto the actual muse info?

" PLEASE, PULL ME FROM THE VOID. " this section is about the askblog. it includes muse info, rules, and anything i think is neceserry.

* buckle in, this section may be long. as if this entire thing wasnt already longer than i intended...

BLOG INFO

🌌 ⎯ this blog will contain profanity and mentions of canon typical death/violence. other possibly triggering topics may come up along the way, so please, view this blog with caution. feel free to ask me to tag things. 🔮 ⎯ please, and i mean PLEASE, no sexual stuff (i know why some of you people like tentacles). mun isnt interested in rp-ing that. the only exception are sexual jokes as long as they don't go too far. threaten to fuck the void's mom if you want! (i am not going to question how you'd be able to do that) 🌌 ⎯ ANY interaction is fine by me! feel free to interact as any muse, whether that be an oc, another pressure character, or someone from a whole other fandom! 🔮 ⎯ feel free to claim any anons and ill make a special tag for you (if you aren't on anon ill give you one too)! i may forget to tag some posts tho so if i ever do just. lemme know LMFAO 😭 🌌 ⎯ if im uncomfortable with an ask, ill delete it. but honestly there's not really much that im against. 'nd also lemme know if i ever do somethin that makes ya uncomfortable too!! 🔮 ⎯ unless stated otherwise, anyone who sends an ask will be treated as an expendable ! :3 actually on the topic of asks pls make it clear if ur ask is towards me and not the z-v06 instance otherwise ill answer ic 😭 🌌 ⎯ im alright w/ m!a's i fucking LOVE m!a's 👍 🔮 ⎯ if i randomly stop posting one day assume the void got me.

MUSE INFO [written ic, but not as the z-v06 instance]

🔮 ⎯ this instance of z-v06 answers to anything you use to refer to it. it has no sense of identity, therefore does not have a name or pronouns. it is up to you to call it whatever you'd like. though, i'm not sure if it has the ability to care. ...note to self, see if the verbal z-v06 instance is capable of emotions and feelings. 🌌 ⎯ fascinating.. the instance you've stumbled upon appears to be showing no signs of hostility. though, i'm sure that, just like the rest of the monsters that roam blacksite, if you provoke it, it may become more violent. 🔮 ⎯ it seems to be capable of remembering things you tell it. perhaps it can remember faces too.. 🌌 ⎯ not much else can be said. i suppose you'll have to interact with it in order to find out more about it.

TAGS

( OOC )⠀ ⠀||⠀ MUN HALEY ( ANON )⠀ ⠀||⠀ UNNAMED (^ the "unnamed" will be replaced by the anon name if there is one provided) ( BLOG )⠀ ⠀||⠀ [INSERT WHATEVER BLOG NAME HERE] ( IC )⠀ ⠀||⠀ WITHIN THE VOID WE ARE UNDONE ( ASK ANSWERED )⠀ ⠀||⠀ THE VOID ANSWERS BACK

tws will be tagged as 'tw [triggering thing]'

i prolly forgot some tag ideas or whatever the word is tbh so expect this to be edited 👍

LAST EDITED: 17TH SEPTEMBER 2024

[jules-ln]

Sorry Anon, the post was too long so I decided to make it its own post instead of an answer

Let me write my Bible because I have thought about this more than I should and I'm mentally ill

First the silence of the girls

I'm going be honest and say that while I don't like this book, I can recognize that is very well written and author makes it very interesting

But!

The girls were silenced indeed 😅

Like, if you're going to market your book as a "feminist" retelling of the Iliad I'll expect your level of feminism to be more advanced than what Homer was writing

Don't get me wrong, I know that women and children are often overlooked at wars specially in a historical context, but what Pat Barker was presenting as feminism was simply "Women suffer more than men in wars 😥" and that is the same thing that Homer was saying hundreds of years ago, more than that, I'd say that Homer did it better

And you know, it's supposed to be a feminist retelling, so I was expecting sorority to be a thing, specially because the only other source of comfort, respect and friendship a woman like Briseis could have had then would've been other enslaved women

But no, we don't really see sorority in the greek camps for more than a couple of paragraphs at best, and I got the feeling that some women characters were just genderbents of the male heroes, like Odysseus's enslaved woman is clever, Nestor's enslaved woman is maternal, florals for spring? groundbreaking

More than that, in the Iliad there is a character named Iphis that is Patroclus's enslaved woman and Briseis mentioned being close friends with her. So you expect that being a close friend of the protagonist she should have a lot of dialogue, specially in conversations with Briseis, don't you think?

Bish, I don't even remember her talking at all to begin with, much less to Briseis! 🤣

The only meaningful relationship Briseis has in the book are Achilles and Patroclus, her life orbits around these men and the other women don't matter

And that leads me to my other point

Briseis doesn't do ANYTHING.

Now, I know, I know, I know. Briseis doesn't do anything in the Iliad either, but that's some of the problems I have with Iliad adaptations.

Like, none of them will EVER be as good as the Iliad, to any writer that think that they can make an adaptation of the Iliad be as good as the Iliad. Sit down, you aren't that guy

So really, they should just do what MM did. Do your own thing that can stand on its own without hanging on the Iliad. Even if it's different, that's a good thing

Now, I say all of that because, it would've been Good if Briseis did something, ANYTHING at all other than stand there and look pretty

You might say "it's accurate to the Iliad" I say "A protagonist that doesn't do anything at all and doesn't influence the world around them in any way is boring"

There was even this part where Briseis wonders about how much control Patroclus has over Achilles, And I was here like "Yesssss, Briseis is going to emotionally manipulate Patroclus to control Achilles so she can be the one who is actually in control of both"

Nope, that, didn't happen, like, at all

Even at some point the narrative kicks Briseis out of the story to focus on Achilles and Patroclus, and like, feminism where? 😅

Once again that leads to my next point. Patroclus and Achilles part was more interesting.

Unironically, the best part of the book was the relationship that both had, it was the type of relationship that was like "I love you, but ngl I kinda hate you and want to kill you too unironically" And I think that's interesting! That's new, I've never read anything like that regarding those two before!

But that's a problem, because when I bought the book I wanted to read about women, I wanted to read about Briseis, not about Achilles and Patroclus, and that the author made them SOOOO much more interesting than Briseis, is just sad

Then there's the problem of the rapes scene, which, in this day and age if you're going to add a rape scene in anything, you better have some freaking good reason. And in this book, they're there for mere shock value, it doesn't give anything to the story, it doesn't change the tone of the book, a good editor would've take them out, but I guess it was part of the "feminist" message 🙄

But really, I don't hate the book, like I said, it's well written in my opinion, but it is a disappointing book because it could've been a great book with some tweaks here and there

Now about The song of Troy

ACHILLES YOU SON OF A BITCH FUCKING LIPLESS MUPPET I HATE YOU Y SI CIEN AÑOS VIVO CIEN AÑOS CHINGAS A TU MADREEEEE

Now that we got that out of the way

See, the thing is that I've read the song of Troy some time ago, and I mostly rage read it so I don't remember it very well

Like I hated it SO MUCH it it it Flames flames FLAMES on the side of my head (yes, it's a reference) so I'm just going to say the things I remember that made me mad

🔸️Helen is the prime example that writing women that don't suck ass ISN'T an innate skill in women, like she was one of the most misogynistic characters that I've ever read and if I was Menelaus in this book, I would be happy that she was gone, bon voyage biatch!

🔸️Both the book and Achilles treat Patroclus like Trash

🔸️The story treats Achilles like an uwu boy that can do no wrong when in reality in the book he's an idiotic asshole estúpido kbron hijo de la chingada pinche mamon bastardo agarras tu espadita la haces rollito y te la metes por el culo pendejo de mierda. Yeah, I don't like Achilles in this book

🔸️Odysseus is written to allegedly be very smart, sadly in actuality he's very dumb, because you see, the whole thing about the fight between Agamemnon and Achilles was an elaborate plot by him to get the Trojans to come out if I remember correctly, now, I think any good good tactician will tell you that an overly elaborate plan that will result in like half of your men dying with no guarantee of it being successful anyway, isn't so smart

🔸️Briseis was written so badly... I'm just going to put it this way, at some point in the book Achilles hits her, and that was the best fucking thing Achilles did in that book, like yess fucking muppet slap that bitch again. Oh but don't worry, Briseis in the book was ok with being slapped and not in a kinky way

🔸️Helen hits Andromache, and so did Hector. I'm going to leave it at that

🔸️I don't remember too well because at this point the fog of rage was too thick, but I think Achilles and Hector kinda fell in love when they were fighting? Which was very weird

So make yourself a favor and don't read it

If you want a good adaptation read these

🔹️War music by christopher logue, it isn't finished because sadly the author died, but best adaptation I've read so far

Here's a quote I like:

"When Nyro’s mother heard of this

She shaved her head; she tore her frock; she went outside

Ripping her fingernails through her cheeks:

Then down her neck; her chest; her breasts;

And bleeding to her waist ran round the shops,

Sobbing:

‘God, kill Troy.

Console me with its death.

Revenge is all I have.

My boy was kind. He had his life to live.

I will not have the chance to dance in Hector’s blood,

But let me hear some have before I die.’

‘I saw her running round.

I took the photograph.

It summed the situation up.

He was her son.

They put it out in colour. Right?

My picture went around the world.’"

🔹️La cólera by Javier Olivares and Santiago García, is a comic in Spanish, but if you can get your hands on one copy, do it, it's so good and the art is beautiful, one of the best portrayals of Achilles I've seen, Pyrrha also appears

🔹️An Iliad, by Denis O'Hare and Lisa Peterson, is a play, and tbh I don't like this one as much as I do the other two, but it is SOOO GOOD too.

🔹️En mitad de tanto fuego by Alberto Conejero, this one is a play; short and sweet and the narrator is Patroclus, very new too, and as far as I know it's only in Spanish, but if you can get it, do so, because it's very good.

Let me translate a part of it to the best of my abilities to tempt you a bit

"How short was life, how short... Now bury me as soon as possible so I can cross the gate of Hades. Bury me, Achilles. And if someone in the future finds my tomb and opens it, let them see how smoke comes out of my shroud still. Because of the desire, Achilles, because of the desire"