#apart from like its humans etc? but that's different!

[gatorbites-imagines]

I’m not picky just wanna be fussed over & cuddle

Peter Parker x sick male reader

Headcanons

You can imagine most Peters in this scenario, though I always write with comic spidey in mind. Aka, adult, own apartment, job, etc. but I don’t think it’s really mentioned in this. At first, I was gonna write about Trafalgar Law, but I feel like he would we way too much doctor, not enough cuddling.

Not that long, but I hope it’s enough.

I have a feeling Peter would realize before you that you were sick. Like, hed notice a change in your scent, your body temperature or how sluggish you would get.

Noticing early on wouldn’t stop a cold obviously, but he would start getting ready for it, most likely without thinking about it. He just catches himself gathering blankets and your favorite snacks that he knows you can stomach when sick.

Would he make a nest out of webs when you got sick? Maybe? It depends on how spidery we imagine this peter. I feel he would at least stick blankets and pillows together to make the most comfortable bed for you to lay in.

He would try to talk you out of going out or going anywhere when he notices you getting sick. But Peter is known for dating stubborn people, so it would shock nobody if you still went out, thinking you were fine, only for you to get really sick.

Hes never mad about it though, Peter loves you too much. He does tsk and crack a few jokes about it, how your neighborhood spider-nurse needs to take care of you.

Peter would patrol and work less when you are sick, or not patrol at all, depending on how bad it is. If crime is at the normal amount he might stay home anyways, just to spend time with you and make you feel seen and cared for.

I feel like his healing factor keeps Peter from catching common colds and fevers, so he doesn’t worry about kissing and cuddling you. He does joke about the kiss being extra germy, which you would have pushed him out of the bed for, if you weren’t so tired.

Peter likes you feed you when you are sick, since he thinks you should use all your energy to fight whatever sickness you have. He also just thinks it’s kinda romantic.

Peter is also the kind of guy who always worries if you’re drinking enough. He doesn’t just bring you water but all kinds of juices, gatorades, whatever you can think of. You always end up with like 10 different drinks by the bed “just in case you want something else babe”

Not having to worry about getting sick also means Peter will cuddle you. Having a very flexible spider boyfriend also means he can fit right around you inside whatever blanket nest you guys have made up.

His hugs are always so comfortable, since he’s got the strength to give you a good squeeze. Peter would spend this time massaging sore areas of your body, if you are fine with that.

The policy that kisses make it better lives through Peter, so your forehead gets a lot of kisses too.

He also keeps your hands inside his own or under his shirt if the fever makes your hands cold, to keep you warm. You always feel nice and toasty with Peter, there’s no way he’s letting his lover freeze.

Peter also never finds you off-putting or gross when you are sick. It’s just human nature to be sick, and honestly? Seeing you sick makes him love you more, since it means you trust him to be vulnerable around him.

So, peter might be somewhat clumsy and messy in the beginning setting it all up, panicking about getting you everything you need. But he’s a great nurse and cuddlebuddy. When he’s done all his research and gotten all the things though, it’s all cuddles and pampering.

Be careful or he’s gonna bathe you too and not let you lift a finger until you are all better again. Make sure to give him extra kisses to show you are thankful, even if he says its just what boyfriends are meant to do.

[scificrows]

Thinking about Murderbot and ART again and how Murderbot is so adamant that ART is not its friend and that they can't be friends and okay fine it'll tell the stupid space ship about its traumatic past but only because it keeps pestering it! And alright, maybe ART can help Murderbot and do a little surgery on it and assist with uncovering the Dark Secrets™ of Murderbot's past but it's and asshole and NOT Murderbot's friend!!!

And then when Murderbot mentions ART to its clients on RaviHyral it just immediately goes for the word "friend"??? And I understand that it couldn't exactly say "there's this giant research transport AI in my feed that helps me pretend to be a human" but like. Murderbot, darling, you could have used anything. You're cosplaying as pretending to be a professional human security consultant, you could have said something like "associate" or "assistant" or whatEVER but "friend" just rolled right off the tongue there, didn't it?

Bonus from Network Effect:

[evilminji]

You know all those Cults in Gotham?

Bet at least ONE of them could spring for both a Legit Magic User and a Cloning pod.

Because The Wayne's? Hearts of Gold. Long standing pains in the asses. Probably the only thing standing between this gods forsaken wasteland of a city and Their Dark Lord. For GENERATIONS no less!

It's sooooo obnoxious!

So they want to Curse Um dead. Just a good ol fashioned bloodline curse. Destroy um from within, etc. BUT! To do THAT? You kinda need a blood relative to sacrifice!

And Bruce is... well... rather infamously An Orphan With No Biological Kids (at that point).

So? What do you do? Make one, obviously. You send in some of your own on a Holy Mission. Honeypot that playboy! Get us a kid to sacrifice! Our God will reward you etc! But... FFS! What? Are brunettes not your TYPE or something?! Pretty lady! Throwing herself at you!!

TAKE THE BAIT!

But he DOESN'T. Because he's both really used to that behavior, as The Wayne Heir and a False Playboy, AND because? He's fuckin Batman. He can see through your schemes.

Okay.

Okay!

Plan B!

Get us some DNA. We'll CLONE the sucker. That should be doable, right?

........OH COME ON! How?!

Batman: [REDACTED] / Cultists: 0

Fuck it! This is impossible! How are we supposed too... *eyes drift over to the Wayne Family Private Graveyard* .......Idea? Ideeeeaaaa~! Someone get us a shovel!

So they, cultist bastards that they are? Fuckin rob a grave for some DNA.

OBVIOUSLY though, it can't be one of the more RECENT graves! He probably VISITS those! Watches them! No we gotta be SNEAKY! Get one a bit further back! Mwahahahaha! We're so brilliant! Our God is gonna give us SUCH a Good Grade in follower!

A thing that is both REAL and possible to achieve!

So, while a Weirdly FURIOUS Batman? Is just... VIOLENTLY breaking ALL of their bones? Cultist 17 is furiously digging like his life depends on it. Either somebody snitched or Batman was hunting them down! Either way?

Gotta! Get! That! DNA!!! *digs faster*

Ah HA! Got it!

Fucking SCATTER! Run you fools, RUN!!! *everyone bolts*

And AT LAST! They have it! Wayne DNA! Now? Pop that sucker into the machine and make us a baby! Too sacrifice! *relieved noises* Man, that was hard work you guys. But we DID it!

Except??

Theoretical Babies? And "Real, slowly forming in front of me and becoming a human child" type babies? VERY DIFFERENT psychologically. It's ONE thing to sacrifice a HYPOTHETICAL baby... but when you're the guy running and monitoring the Cloning machine? Watching it slowly form and come together into... into a CHILD?

You start asking questions of yourself. Of God.

Of what, EXACTLY, you are willing to do.

What lines you find yourself unwilling to cross.

And yeah, your life was SHIT before the cult. Yeah, you were alone. Adrift. Without purpose. Angry at the world for all of its ugliness and failings. But... sitting, alone, in a dark room? Nothing but the steady hum of machines and the cool light of that pod? You are left with nothing but time... and your thoughts.

And the baby.

The one... the one YOU made.

Almost... he's almost like a son, in a way. Your son. Floating there, innocent and unknowing. Destined to be born, only to die painfully, for a cause he could not even begin to understand. Because he's too young. Too small. Just... just a baby.

The baby YOU made.

Doubt seeps in like mist. Creeping into the cracks forming in your faith. Surely there's another way, right? Why not save up for a better magician? Or... or hire a hitman? Why involve a child? Surely... surely your God would not WANT this, right? Or if He did! Surely, he would want the boy to be able to CHOOSE, right? A noble sacrifice, for the cause?

The pressure builds. Batman is tearing the city APART looking for your fellow Believers. Leadership is pressuring you to get "It" ready all ready.

He's not an "it".

They are dismissing your questions. Threatening and posturing, as you grapple with your faith. Where? Where is the COMMUNITY that you joined? The camaraderie? Every day, Believers are being torn down. The faith has lost so many!

How can this be WORTH it?

Your faith is slowly, cruelly, strangled in your chest. A death, by ten thousand silences, and ten thousand more cruelties.

Your son is ready.

You do not tell them.

The Clone of Bruce Wayne's great-grandfather is small, but healthy, in your arms. A tiny warm body, with a strong beating little heart. You call the police. Leave your phone, call running, on the desk. No one thinks to stop you, as you calmly walk out the back door.

Why would they doubt?

You are Faithful.

You drive. Pray to a God you have lost faith in, beg forgiveness for what you do now. Your beat up old junker of a car makes decent time, as you leave Gotham. Your son, asleep in a carefully made nest of blankets, on the seat next to you. You drive. You keep driving.

Past towns.

Past cities.

Out of the state.

Stopping only to feed your son and fuel your car. You... you can not bring yourself to care about what will happen to you now. You know they will find you. Know this is the end. But something ancient burns in your chest. A caring you never thought was REAL.

You are afraid.

But you will not let them harm your son.

Finally, a town. Far from Gotham. Quite and cheerful. It calls to you.

Here. It... it has to be here.

You find the hospital. Tears choking you. There is a place to drop of children. You've seen them before. How strange, that now you stand before it and HURT. Your arms not listening to your command. You... you have to do this. You HAVE too.

He is just a baby.

He is your son.

You have to keep him safe. And... and that can not be with you.

You gently put your baby boy into the drop off. Press the buzzer. And then? You make yourself walk away.

Get back in your car, and drive. The gun in your glove box will insure they can never pry from you, what you have done. Where he is. He is safe now. He has to be. You... you did your job. As his father. You made sure he was safe.

You can barely see the road, through your tears.

You take your secrets to the grave.

And Danny? He grows up. Is adopted young and never knows different. Both a Fenton and a Wayne. Knowing only one of these, to be his. But... that Wayne? Was a damn fine man. A pillar of his community and a champion of the people.

Got tossed more then a few blessings, in his life.

They weren't the STRONGEST. But they added up. And more importantly? Were hardly the refined magics of the more powerful. They were cast onto "Him". By blood and bone, more often then not. Which was all well and good!

When there was only ONE of "Him".

Cloning technology did not exsist. So why would you word carefully against it? Danny becomes a VERY lucky boy. Survives many things he should not. In fact, the kindness and hard work of his original? Gifted back in magically powered well wishes? By this, he survives something NO ONE could possibly expect him too.

It saves his life.

His template would be quite pleased, knowing that. That his life of good deeds, saved the life of the child he never got a chance to meet. That it protected his children, from even beyond death.

And in Gotham? At long, long last. The program Bruce made in his helplessness and despair, to search EVERY child until the child made of his bloodline was found? Spits out a match.

A Watchtower engineer.

Daniel J. Fenton.

@hdgnj @hypewinter @lolottes @babbling-babull @nerdpoe @mutable-manifestation

[cece693]

The Better Brother (Damon Salvatore x M! Reader)

A small pet peeve of mine regarding Damon Salvatore fics is how people sometimes gloss over the wave of self loathing this man possesses. Since childhood he's had to bear constant comparisons with Stefan—how he wasn't enough, not as kind, etc.—so in my mind, if he does find someone he would absolutely push them away. That gave rise to this fic!

Summary: Damon finally found the one, however, thoughts of self-hatred and the constant comparison to his 'better' brother had him doubting if he even was deserving of such future.

tags: sad, in my feelings, break up, Damon thinking he's underserving, self hatred

Damon leaned against the bar of the Mystic Grill, the amber liquid in his glass catching the dim light. He swirled the bourbon absently, his mind not on the drink but on the man standing at the dartboard, a soft laugh escaping his lips as he teased Stefan for his missed throw.

M/N had come into Damon’s life like a hurricane—wild, passionate, and with a kindness that made him feel human for the first time in decades. He wasn’t supposed to fall this hard. But now that he had, every insecurity Damon carried weighed heavier on him.

He drained the glass and set it down with a little too much force, drawing a glance from M/N. Damon met his eyes and forced a smirk, but it didn’t quite reach his own. M/N tilted his head, his expression softening with concern, and made his way back over. “What’s got you brooding over here?” he teased, bumping Damon’s shoulder as he slid onto the stool beside him.

Damon shrugged, reaching for the bottle to pour himself another. “Just thinking about how life is unfairly cruel to us handsome, brooding types.”

M/N didn’t laugh. He didn’t fall for Damon’s deflections anymore.

“You’ve been distant all week,” he noted, his voice quieter now. “What’s really going on?”

Damon’s grip on the glass tightened. He hated how easily M/N saw through him, hated how good he was for him. And most of all, he hated himself for ruining what they had before it could even bloom. But Damon knew how this story ended. It was always the same. Stefan was the hero, the savior, the one who got the happy ending. Damon was the shadow lurking behind, destined to lose.

“You should go back to your darts game,” Damon said, his voice cold now, deliberately so. “I’m fine.”

M/N stared at him for a long moment, then sighed. “I know you don’t believe this, but you don’t have to push me away every time you get scared, Damon.”

Scared.

The word stung because it was true.

Later that night, Damon found himself alone in the Salvatore boarding house. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting long shadows across the room, but its warmth didn’t reach him. He sat on the edge of the couch, elbows resting on his knees, a photograph clutched in his hand.

In the photo, they were both smiling—genuine, unguarded. Damon hardly recognized himself in that moment, caught off guard by M/N’s infectious energy. The picture had been taken at the Mystic Falls Winter Festival, a day Damon had reluctantly agreed to attend. M/N had dragged him to the Ferris wheel, teasing him about being afraid of heights.

Damon hadn’t been afraid—not of the heights, at least. But the way M/N had looked at him at the top, with so much trust and warmth, had sent a different kind of fear coursing through him. For a brief moment, suspended in the sky with M/N’s laughter ringing in his ears, it felt like the world wasn’t so bleak.

He clenched his jaw and stared at the photograph for a long time, his fingers trembling slightly. “You don’t deserve this,” he muttered to himself. “You don’t deserve him.”

With a sharp breath, he shoved the picture into the drawer of the side table and slammed it shut. This was the right thing to do. Even if it hurt. Even if it tore him apart.

The next day, Stefan found Damon in the parlor. The sunlight streaming through the windows only emphasized how wrecked the oldest Salvatore looked. He was slouched in the armchair, a near-empty bottle of bourbon in front of him, his eyes distant and unfocused, as if he had been staring into nothingness for hours.

“What did you do?” Stefan’s voice cut through the oppressive silence of the room, sharp and demanding.

Damon let out a low chuckle, the sound bitter and hollow. “Relax, Saint Stefan,” he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I did you a favor.”

Stefan’s brows furrowed as he stepped closer, his tone tightening with frustration. “What the hell does that mean?”

Damon finally lifted his gaze, his trademark smirk flickering onto his face. “He’s all yours now,” he said, the words carrying a mix of resignation and self-loathing.

He didn’t need to ask to know what Damon meant. “You broke up with him,” Stefan said, his tone flat, more a statement than a question.

Damon shrugged, his nonchalance forced and brittle. “Better for everyone that way,” he muttered, grabbing the bottle and taking another swig.

Stefan wasn’t having it. He crossed the room in two strides and snatched the bottle from Damon’s hand, setting it firmly on the table out of reach. “Better for everyone or better for you?” he snapped, his voice cutting through Damon’s feigned indifference.

Damon’s smirk flickered. He slouched further into the chair, rubbing a hand over his face. “Don’t get all noble on me, brother. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? A clean slate? No more complications? No more me standing in the way?”

Stefan stared at him, incredulous. “You really think I wanted this? That I wanted you to destroy the best thing that’s ever happened to you?”

“Spare me the lecture, Stefan,” Damon said, his tone sharp, though it lacked its usual bite. “He’ll be fine. Hell, he’ll probably thank me someday.”

Stefan shook his head, his frustration mounting. “You don’t get it, do you? M/N doesn’t want me. He never has. He chose you, Damon. And instead of fighting for him, you pushed him away because you’re too much of a coward to believe you deserve him.”

Damon’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists on the armrests of the chair. “Coward? Is that what you think I am?”

“Yes,” Stefan shot back without hesitation. “You’re so scared of being happy, of someone actually loving you for who you are, that you’d rather sabotage it before they can leave you. You think that’s noble? It’s not. It’s pathetic.”

Damon stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor as he loomed over Stefan. “Don’t you dare lecture me about love, Stefan. You’ve been handed every happy ending on a silver platter while I’ve had to fight for scraps.”

“And this time, you didn’t even fight,” Stefan countered, his voice soft but firm. “You just gave up. And you hurt him in the process.”

Damon’s shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of him as quickly as it had come. He turned away, staring into the dying embers of the fireplace. “You don’t understand,” he muttered, his voice barely audible. “He deserves better. Better than me.”

“Maybe that’s not your choice to make, Damon. Maybe he already decided that you’re what he wants. And maybe…just maybe, you should let yourself believe it.”

Damon didn’t respond. He couldn’t. The words sat heavy in his chest, pressing against the fragile walls he’d built around his heart. He clenched his jaw, his eyes burning as he stared into the fire, willing the tears to stay where they were. Stefan sighed, his frustration softening into something closer to pity. “You’re going to regret this,” he said quietly. “And when you do, I just hope it’s not too late.”

He turned and left the room, leaving Damon alone once again.

The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the faint crackle of the fire. Damon sank back into his chair, staring at the empty spot on the table where the bourbon bottle had been.

Deep down, he knew Stefan was right.

But knowing didn’t make it hurt any less.

And that was the curse of being Damon Salvatore.

[splinterclan]

what is the clan's relationship with the warrior code. Because they don't really seem too strict about it.

I just went and copy pasted the Warrior code from the WC Website and I'll put what percent they follow that rule after each one (never actually read the warrior code so this is fun jsjs)

1. Defend your Clan, even with your life. You may have friendships with cats from the other Clans, but your loyalty must remain to your Clan, as one day you may meet them in battle. - 100%

2. Do not hunt or trespass on another Clan’s territory. - 100%

3. Elders and kits must be fed before apprentices and warriors. Unless they have permission, apprentices may not eat until they have hunted to feed the elders. - 100%

4. Prey is killed only to be eaten. Give thanks to StarClan for its life. - 100%

5. A kit must be at least six moons old to become an apprentice. - 100%

6. Newly appointed warriors will keep a silent vigil for one night after receiving their warrior name. - 100%

7. A cat cannot be made deputy without having mentored at least one apprentice. - 90% Was lax for Moor since the clan started without any apprentice age kids, but will be 100% for every deputy after her

8. The deputy will become Clan leader when the leader dies or retires. - 100%

9. After the death or retirement of the deputy, the new deputy must be chosen before moonhigh. - 100%

10. A gathering of all four Clans is held at the full moon during a truce that lasts for the night. There shall be no fighting among Clans at this time. - 0% There's 5 clans total around, but their territories are so massively far apart it's really not feasible for them to visit each other at all (like, miles apart - Oakclan is a 2-3 day journey from Splinter's camp). Every clan interaction in the game I interpret as happening with wandering rogue groups instead

11. Boundaries must be checked and marked daily. Challenge all trespassing cats. - 100%

12. No warrior may neglect a kit in pain or in danger, even if that kit is from a different Clan. - 100%

13. The word of the Clan leader is the warrior code. - 80% ish? the clan is just way too small for there to be the separation that is required for dictatorship effect. It's more like a family where your dad "sets rules" but you know he won't beat your ass if you disobey them, but you mostly obey them anyways bc you love him (Whorlstar is their dad)

14. An honorable warrior does not need to kill other cats to win his battles, unless they are outside the warrior code or it is necessary for self-defense. - 100%

15. A warrior rejects the soft life of a kittypet. - 100% They won't go near or take food from humans - even when Cedar lived near one for a bit, he never took food from them.

So apparently they follow it pretty well? There seems to be a lot of unspoken rules in WC (like don't have kits with outsiders etc. Med cats can't have kits) That aren't on this list, so I guess they're not official? Idk xD I've said this before, but I have only read the first series of books so I don't have the fullest knowledge, but I do feel like with WC-based stories stuff like having the Med Cat get in trouble for having kits or half-clan relationships being persecuted are dumb rules anyways so I'd just rather write about something else

Plus clangen itself has no internal code for punishing that kind of stuff so it's all free game there too luckily ^^

[scalefeathers]

Thinking once again about how Nobuo Uematsu and Masayoshi Soken are both completely amazing composers but in completely opposite directions let me explain

Disclaimer I am not a music theorist; most of music theory is black fucking magic to me. I barely know what a chord is and the circle of fifths makes me quake as though before an Elder God. I just really like both of their works and sometimes I have thoughts about things. Also this is all just my opinion, it's fine if you don't agree, etc.

So: Uematsu is first and foremost, in my opinion, an absolute master of melody. I believe it's what makes his work so iconic and makes so many of his pieces so instantly recognizable. The Final Fantasy theme, the chocobo theme, Dancing Mad, Vamo'alla Flamenco, fucking One-Winged Angel--Just from seeing those names, you've probably got one playing in your head already. You could start humming it right now. Maybe you are already.

And it makes perfect sense when you consider the era he was working in, because back in the 8-bit and 16-bit era, the melody was all you had. When you have such a tiny amount of storage space to work with, you can really play only one, maybe two notes at a time. You can't do anything that's layered, because you only have one layer to work with. I think that's why so much video game music from that era is so memorable and iconic. It's not just because you played so much Street Fighter II when you were a kid that the music is indelibly seared into your brain (though that probably doesn't hurt); it's also because Yoko Shimomura wrote really solid melodies that had nothing else competing for your aural attention (apart from the in-game sound effects, which are probably also seared into your memory). (Yoko Shimomura, btw, also composed the music for Final Fantasy XV, the entire Kingdom Hearts series, and like 50 other games over the past 40 years, another fucking icon).

But back to Uematsu: like I said, melodic genius. Even when his work is upscaled into full orchestral arrangements, that core melody is always front and center. And his affinity for melody makes even more sense when you consider that before he got into video game composing, he was writing commercial jingles. (Younger folks may not be aware, but there was a time when practically every product had to have its own theme song, and the best ones were short, snappy, and instantly memorable--and for that, again, you need a strong, simple melody. Ba da ba ba ba, I'm lovin' it.)

Compare: Soken. Soken only started at Square 12 years after Uematsu, which isn't that long in human terms (to me at least, cos I'm old), but it is a long fuckin' time in video game years. By the time he started composing for games, there was so much more you could do with game music in terms of layering, complexity, and sound, and you can tell from his work that he takes full advantage of that. His work is complex and dense, a rich layer cake of themes and motifs, all beautifully merging and weaving together, often to extraordinary effect.

And again, if you look at his pre-music career, it makes a lot of sense that he'd have that approach to music, because he first got into the games industry as a sound designer; I believe that he is the sound director for all the FFXIV expansions, as well as being the composer. So of course he'd be very aware of not just how a sound (or piece of music) works on its own, but of how it fits into the greater whole, and of how to layer and balance lots of different sounds to create something greater than the sum of its parts. And of course it makes sense that he'd bring that approach to his compositions as well.

As a consequence of this approach, though, his music often lacks the memorable melodies that characterize Uematsu's work. Like, I ground (grinded?) Dun Scaith a lot the last time it was on the Mogstone rotation, I know all the boss themes extremely well and can recognize each of them instantly. But if you asked me right now to hum one? I don't think I could. (This isn't a deficiency, to be clear; music doesn't need a prominent core melody in order to be good.)

And that's also not to say that all his music lacks iconic melodies. His vocal tracks, pretty much by definition, have to put a single melody front and center; and then on top of that (or rather, behind it), you have all that trademark Soken richness and depth. Which is probably also why his vocal tracks go so fucking hard.

I think that's also why, out of all the expansions, I like Heavensward's music the best. Most of Heavensward's score is written by Soken, but the main theme is Uematsu's, and you may notice it's basically a tasting menu of like 5 or 6 excellent, very recognizable melodies, one right after the other. And basically every piece on the Heavensward soundtrack incorporates one or more of these melodies. So it really does give you the best of both worlds, and gives the overall score a cohesion that I don't see as much with the other expansions.

TL;DR, Uematsu and Soken are both amazing composers with very different and complimentary styles that reflect their differing backgrounds and the different eras of games in which they have worked and I just think that's neat.

[horreurscopes]

i don't even remember what it's called or of if it was good but i read this slice of life novel years ago about the friendship between a gay guy and a girl with some kind of hormonal disruption that made her very big, and perhaps there was some sort of murder or assault in their town that shook them, and they thought a lot about it. i think they drift apart because they have different reactions to it; there was a series of passages or maybe? a trueline through the novel? about the american need for control over the world, how victim blaming is really a psychological self-defense mechanism from the horrifying truth that things can happen to us that we are powerless to stop, and how this self-soothing worldview comes at the expense of empathy. and writing it down seems pretty obvious, right, but at the time of reading it it felt like something very deep in me, underneath the outer layers that already knew victim blaming was Bad, had been cracked. anyway i still find myself thinking about it every time i have a kneejerk reaction along the lines of, well EYE wouldn't have done that, or well that wouldn't happen to ME, because justifications about street smarts or situational awareness or etc etc etc. and i get annoyed about it first before i can digest it, again and again. i think what matters is that i don't forget. i think it's a very human response to have in an environment that is so permeated in an exceptionalism that reaches its logical conclusion through a soul-poisoning cultural refusal to acknowledge that we can die. but it's really stuck with me all these years later, and once you see it is everywhere; from the cult my parents are entrenched in teaching them only they and a small group of people are the ones who will survive a fire apocalypse and live forever in a paradise earth on the ashes of dead billions, including me, due to the whole being a lesbian thing; to like, the billionaires trying to figure out how to keep people in their servitude in their nuclear war bunkers, or the tech bros who firmly believe they will be uploading their consciousness to the cloud before their carbon body begins to rot, or your average grandma asking what your friend who was raped was wearing

[ghost-bxrd]

To fuel your JJK and Batfam crossovers, what if Jason became like what Rika is to Yuta to Dick and Bruce. They say Batman got more violent after Robin's death, and while it's true, Jason's the one who is actually almost killing them for trying to hurt Bruce in his eyes. Especially when Bane broke his back, Jason breaks every bone in Bane's body. Blockbuster bombs Dick's apartment, Jason bombs his everything, with a bomb like the one that killed him, and almost rips Catalina to pieces for what she tried to do. When Bruce steps into the JL base after Jason haunts him as a curse, Zatana and Constantine have the same reaction and fear as the second years when they saw Yuta, Raven when she sees Dick with curse!Jason. When Tim and other batfam members join the family, they also get Jason's "curse", with varying reactions. Bruce is horrified that his son would easily kill, but even worse cause it's for him, but can't bring himself to exorcise Jason. Dick as well, buts it's mixed with an awe of how deep Jason loves him. Tim is super happy with having someone who cares about him this much and will stay with him whenever he calls for it, even if the some of the love language is extreme violence towards enemies, and when Jason no diffs the LOA for Damian he feels like a king, gaining the best bodyguard that even Ra's can't harm. Bonus points if Jason appears in his human form to the Batfam unless he's angry, but others can't see him until he attacks so they're near death. And he is monstrousin this form, the same kid who cooks with Alfred in the morning can be a 10 foot tall beast when anyone threatens his family. His curse form looks like how he died, his injuries from the crowbar bleeding on display, but so much bigger with so many eyes and teeth and claws, an explosion happens every time his curse form appears. Anyway curse!Jason AU

I am on my KNEES for this idea holy shit!!!!

Anybody who’s been here long enough for eldritch!Jason and fae!Dick will know how much I love creatures with too many eyes and teeth 👁️

So let’s spin this further!!!! There’s been so many different theories of how Rika came to be and if love could truly be a catalyst for becoming a curse because humanity views love as something sacrosanct.

But the concept of “Love is the most twisted curse of all” is just— so wonderfully applicable for this scenario. Because we’ve got it confirmed time and time again that Jason is the most emotional out of the Bats. And love, in its many forms—a lot of them beautiful—also comes with the duality that can manifest as possessiveness, obsession, jealousy etc. Two sides of the same coin.

Soooooo, fast forward to Jason’s death and transformation into a cursed spirit— let’s have him come to terms with his new existence first. He’ll be scared, full of rage, full of why is this happening to me!?

And maybe for the first few weeks/months he’ll be alone, staying close to his family but trying to get a grip on how and when he appears. Figuring out his existence works, and why explosions seem to suddenly be hard wired into his very being even though, logically, he should be terrified of them.

And!!! The batfam!!!!! Jason’s watching from the sidelines of course, but Bruce operating in Gotham and Dick in Blüdhaven would usually mean that he can’t exist in two places at once. But now that he’s a curse, mere mention of his name is enough to draw Jason’s attention. One second he’ll be watching Bruce bring down a gang in the Bowery, the next he’s blowing Blockbuster and Catalina sky-high. He’s fine tuned into every single bat’s emotional state of being.

And calming him down again??? Hooooo, boy. When curse!Jason falls into a protective frenzy, it has the potential to become bad enough to wipe an entire city off the map, and only the Bats have any hope of calming him down. ((Let’s imagine a ten foot, burned monstrosity being cooed at and skillfully lulled away from the carnage by an exhausted Nightwing asking for cuddles))

(((The Justice League keep urging Bruce to do something about Jason, but all the protectiveness goes both ways: the batfam are NOT losing Jason again.)))

[ranticore]

so ive been meaning to explain more about ironwall than the lil hints u get from that one story i posted a while back but essentially it's a city that grew out of the necessity of making a place for people with monstrous or non-standard anatomy. it grew from a few alehouses with double-high doors into an industrial city in the 1700s, one which remained largely independent of the nation around it by virtue of being essentially "worthless" to the kingdom. it was ruled by a self-appointed Protector who was supposedly chosen by council vote at regular intervals but we'll get into that

So due to being the only place with accessible infrastructure for centaurs (of all animal types), it became a major population centre and, of course, with no alternatives and a rapidly depleting countryside due to population growth and farmers/peasants being unable to support themselves on their land anymore, Ironwall became something of a prison, too. Where else could anyone go? Ironwall in the 1800s was known to be a deeply corrupt cesspit built on the exploitation of citizens who had nowhere else to go. The council did not allow non-landowners to vote in elections resulting in a ruling class of landlords only voting in their own interests and a strongly stratified society. All because the majority-human settlements elsewhere were not obligated to build suitable housing or accommodations, and some would actively work to avoid such accommodations, like entire streets of houses where access is by steep flights of stairs, or houses on stilts in smaller villages etc. They had heard stories of how awful it was to live in Ironwall and wanted none of it in their backyard thank you very much.

The structure of Ironwall in the early 20th century took the form of a huge wheel-shaped city with accessory satellite towns at each spoke. Centaurs being able to comfortably travel long distances, they kind of invented the commuter town before anyone else out of necessity, as there was a well-developed housing crisis within the city with citizens crushed between sky high rents and few if any places to live. It took until the 70s before motor vehicles were legalised and they were not popular, mainly used by the wealthy who could afford to modify them.

The culture of Ironwall was extremely conservative for most of its existence due to the religious leanings of its founders and landlord class, with strict modesty laws for all centaurs (specifically banning the display of the juncture between human torso and animal body) and a "hard work shapes character" attitude.

When the steel industry finally collapsed, the centre of Ironwall saw an exodus of businesses and people until suddenly, low-quality housing was readily available and super cheap - and the regular humans began to move in. This was matched by similar economic pressures elsewhere, and the different populations finally starting to truly mix; factory workers from Ironwall had gone anywhere that was still hiring and centaur accommodation was being built outside Ironwall and its satellite towns by unscrupulous business owners seizing upon this new supply of cheap labour.

With Ironwall's historic heart starting to rot, there was a big push towards making the city welcoming to tourists and rehabilitating its shabby image. This was largely successful and the first wave of poor human arrivals was quickly drowned out by a second wave of gentrifiers. The historical city centre was preserved as high rise apartments (inhospitable to centaurs) went up around the outskirts, and many of the people whose families had lived in Ironwall for generations, who'd stuck around through the recession, found themselves in the tourism industry, in a very different place than the one they'd grown up in.

And that's why ironwall au Pascal was a taxi driver miserably trying to go viral on the internet in the hopes he'd finally be able to quit ferrying tourists around his ancestral home

[temporalhiccup]

In an effort to ease out of burn out and try to feel real and human again I'm digging around old games and seeing what would be fun to tinker with. For most of my games they get to at least an Alpha Build/Playtestable stage, but Never Break The Chain is one of the few that didn't quite manage to get that far (though it honestly wouldn't take that much more I think!)

Never Break The Chain mechanically and emotionally is a response to The Eventide Club, which was @jdragsky's response to Apocalypse Keys.

It's clear that this game is partly a love letter to jay dragon's design and how it makes me feel, and I wrote this during a time when I was insecure about my design. I was reeling from the idea that my games were too emotional to be enjoyable, that strangers were never going to like the games I create. (Typical Capricorn, even the way I work through my shit has to be productive in some way)

Every player character is made up of two components: a Musician Playbook and a God Playbook. It's my take on the very popular idea of fallen gods feeding off divine worship as musicians. I wanted to create a really fun and emotionally intense game (inspired by how famously messy Fleetwood Mac and other bands can be, definitely The Wicked + The Divine too).

It's been three years since I took a look at this stuff and it's fun remembering the mechanical shenanigans I was up to: tightening chains, breaking them, creating halos, shattering them, etc. I'll tinker a bit with these mechanics and see what comes of it.

The more complex of the playbooks are the Musician ones. What remains of the divine is raw and simple, ever fading and barely there. In comparison, the Musician playbooks are a chance for me to explore some truly messy human stuff.

Here's the Musician playbook, The Mask, it's mostly intact from the last time I touched it years ago. I just tightened a few options here and there.

I'll spell out the inspiration for this playbook: David Bowie, specifically the maddened Bowie interviewed by Cameron Crowe in 1975.

Bowie was famous for his different personas, and you can see some of them represented in the masks below: Ziggy Stardust, The Thin White Duke, Halloween Jack, the Goblin King, and the Minotaur.

This playbook is an exploration of what it could have been like for Bowie exploring these different personas, based on various events written about or talked about in later years, offering points of tension and intensity (deconstructed and awaiting creative input, like always) and hopefully creating explosive moments of playable drama.

I do think this playbook leans most into Bowie's contentious phase as the Thin White Duke. This was a man who was clearly breaking apart on stage, underneath the thinnest veneer of a persona that was holding itself together with a white-knuckled grip. Other personas were haunting him, discarded or never worn. Station to Station is my favorite Bowie album on most days, and his live performances of its music are almost painful to watch (while impossible to look away from).

I think, if we ever get this to playtest, I'll probably leave this playbook mostly as is (barring some mechanical tweaks that will be applied to all playbooks maybe) and just see where things go.

The Mask

You understand better than anyone that music is a story, and that performance is a mask well worn. You have created several Masks and stories over the years, and the Masks have recreated you. But as you seek fame and fortune, will the Mask become more real than you ever could be? One day you'll wake up and there won't be anything of you left, just a blank face both empty and signifying nothing.

Your Name

(Choose 1): A completely made up name that is never questioned, an appropriately dramatic name, a single initial that no one pronounces properly, I change my name every few months, a series of letters and numbers that only makes sense to my fans, a name that is as enigmatic as it is beautiful.

Your Look

(Choose 3-4): A painfully sharp and pale business suit with splatters of paint and blood on it, shades that almost no one has ever seen me take off, hair dyed into every imaginable color, the cruelest smile, the kindest eyes, an intoxicating scent, small and delicate tattoos that tell all my secrets, the body language of a predator, an unexpected scar, something else that betrays my mortality and weakness.

Your Role in the Band:

(Choose 1-3): Lead vocalist, lead guitar, muse, song writer, fuck buddy, everybody's ex, the face of the band, I'm here to look pretty baby

Choose the Mask you currently wear, one Mask you discarded, and one Mask that threatens to consume you.

I am an alien from a dying planet and harbinger of an inescapable apocalypse, my music is wild and haunting

I am royalty from a fictional past and deride the love I desperately need, my music is rhythmic and romantic

I am a rebel leader from a dark future and I shall orchestrate a dystopia of our own making, my music is hypnotic and delirious

I am the fae king who grants ill-cast wishes and offers dark bargains, my music is ethereal and manipulative

I am a serial killer who turns willing victims into impossible art pieces, my music is violent and eerie

I am a fallen angel, on the run from divine hunters and mortal lovers and only you can save me, my music is soft and beautiful

I am a broken doll mimicking life, perfect and made to fulfill your every desire, my music is naive and inviting

I am a warrior from another time and place, only you can heal my wounds and recreate my fate, my music is loud and lustful

As The Mask I gain 2-4 tokens when I:

Hide my true feelings behind a Mask

Ask someone to wear one of my Masks, for now

Give a part of myself to a Mask

When you gain your fifth token:

The divine music swells within you and seeks release. You cannot gain new tokens until you choose one:

Go to another band member and take off your Mask, reveal something vulnerable and raw about yourself. If they reach out to touch your real face, they break a chain. If they do anything else, break one of your chains.

Reflect on the god you once where, and create a new Mask to contain that memory. Your power wanes, crack one halo.

The Mask's Chains:

A whisper that comes from my mouth but doesn't sound like me at all

An embrace that promises more than it should

A kiss that comes dangerously close to unmasking me

One of my Masks on someone else's face

A song I wrote that will weaken a single Mask

A Mask I created that takes a life of its own

A Mask someone else creates to imprison me

Someone I love wearing my true face

The Mask's Move:

When you put on one of your Masks to tell its story, describe how you embody it and how you draw others into your spell. Spend tokens and roll.

On an 8-10 You are in control of the Mask, choose one:

A part of your Mask becomes more real than real, create a new Chain that reflects this.

A part of your true self gives way to the Mask, one Halo becomes whole again.

Someone is inexplicably drawn to you, you have them wrapped around your finger, for now. Say who they are and place a chain on them. If they're a band member, they place a chain on you as well.

On an 11+ The Mask begins to consume you, and you cannot tell the difference between art and reality. Choose one:

Another band member must become a part of your story, both of you place a chain on the other. For now, you are obsessed with crafting a Mask for them to match your own.

One of your fans is convinced the Mask is your true self, you cannot outrun them. For the rest of the scene you are at your fan's mercy. Describe how their obsession for you draws out something painful and real from you. When you return in a future scene gain the chain: an obsessed and dangerous fan

On a 7- your sense of self shatters and the Mask bleeds through. Until you regain your sense of self and remember you are not your Mask, you cannot perform. The Audience will tell you what happens next.

At the start of every session:

Spend a moment with your Masks and consider who they are and what story they have to tell. Choose one:

Put down the Mask you're currently wearing and pick up another, why does this one call out to you?

Change something essential about one of your Masks, what part of you refuses to bend or break?

Create a new Mask, based on someone you're obsessed with and yearn for. What does it feel like when you pretend to be them?

[ihavethedreamies]

Deserted | Hoshi [NSFW]

Kwon Soonyoung (Hoshi - Seventeen)

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~5k

Pairing: Hoshi x AFAB!Reader

Genre: Sci-Fi AU!, Reader-Insert, Smut, Some Plot, Hookup/One-Night-Stand/Strangers to Fucking

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Pet Names (Sweet Girl, Baby Girl, etc.), Swearing, Kissing, Oral (M! & F! Receiving), Deepthroating, Unprotected Sex (Use a condom!), Added some piercings for ~flair~

Author's Note: I had my best friend read this the other day and she said it was a little much for her, but still enjoyable and she was sure others would love it.

I am planning on doing something like this for each member, so stay tuned!

-> Series Hub <-

-> Woozi's <-

-> Wonwoo's <-

-> S.Coup's <-

Revised (1/30/25)

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! Share, even if its to the other sites! Let me know if you want to be on the taglist!

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me." You groan as your sand-rover grumbles in protest, slowing down before it halts. The engine not only shuts off, but it lets out a giant puff of black smoke. The smell of burning rubber stings your nose and you groan louder, grabbing your bag off the passenger seat. Throwing the door open, you're glad this happened as the sun is setting and not when it was high in the sky. The desert, however, can be very cold at night. A gust of wind blasts against the door, almost slamming it shut on your legs. With a yelp, you swing out your arm to catch the door and sigh when it doesn’t keep going. Unwrapping the thin scarf around your neck, you rewrap it around your head and face to protect you from the blowing sand. Slipping your goggles on over to cover your eyes, you wince when the leather cracks further. Getting another strap will be a pain in the ass. Grabbing the door, you let it slam closed and sling your bag over your shoulder. Walking around the vehicle, you notice that is was hit harder than you anticipated. Since your rover is just that, you have no gun mounted on it, so when the acid-spitting space worm shot out of the ground, you could only flee. The back tire has finally been eaten away enough to go flat and there’s also a hole that leads to the gas tank. Only a bit of the fuel drips out and you know there’s no chance of getting the now wrecked rover anywhere. Climbing up on the other back wheel, you get the hatch in the back open so you can grab your bigger pack. Grunting, you swing it onto your back and cinch the straps tight. Turning back to the last outpost you had been at is a no go. There’s a huge alien monster in the way. You aren’t sure where the next outpost is, so you pull out your old, beaten up holo-tracker. When you turn it on, the holographic screen glitches, so you slam the body of the device against your thigh a few times and then it evens out. Clicking the buttons, one of which keeps getting stuck, you see that the next outpost is miles away. Walking that far will be an absolute drag but at least it’s night.

"Freaking desert planets…" You grumble as if you’ve ever lived on a different one. You grew up on Sierra-Victor-Tango, but after taking a trip to several other human worlds, you learned that your home is…well, a shithole. Everything is old and falling apart. In the cities, crime is rampant, and the smaller outposts and towns are poor. When you told your mother you were going out to scavenge through the desert, she was unsure. Not because she was worried for your safety, but she had no idea what you hoped to find. It’s a sandy wasteland inhabited by weird space bugs and lizards. You’ve never known earth like your grandparents so when you learned Terra animals and bugs look so different, you understood why your grandma was so skeeved out.

Looking back at the wrecked rover, you wonder if it can give you some credits for scrap, but the work to get all the way out to it isn’t worth it. Hiking up your pack again, you set off, holding the scarf to your mouth as a gust of wind blasts you. A little blinking cursor flashes on your holo-tracker indicating where you are as you walk toward the setting sun. Behind you and to the right, the two different moons rise higher and get clearer. Twinkling stars begin to appear and the cold is starting to set in. In the distance, you see a giant rock outcropping and you head for it. It’s off the packed-in road, so you can’t go very fast in the shifting sand.  When you reach the rock, you walk around to the other side, looking for a crack or something you could wedge into for shelter. What you’re not expecting is some kind of shelter erected against the stone. It looks semi-permanent and constructed around some kind of indent in the giant rock.

Creeping closer, you see someone sitting at a fire pit, their back to you. What startles you the most though, is a giant feline-like shape lying next to the fire as well. You’ve never seen one that big and it looks like a tiger from the books your grandmother brought from earth. Instead of orange with black stripes, it’s black with white stripes and has long top fangs. The wind shifts; it’s coming straight behind you instead of at you. The beast lifts its head, beginning to growl. At this, the person turns around and you see it’s a man. He has a scar across the bridge of his nose and his ears are heavily pierced. Another piercing accents his right brow, and he has a long narrow tattoo behind his ear and down his neck. You immediately shoot your arms up in surrender and he motions his tiger to lay down.

"Who are you?" He calls and you dare not step closer.

"Uh…(Y/N), of Morgran Town." You’d never seen someone like him before. He’s incredibly attractive, and his poncho-like cloak hits right at his ribs, and he has nothing on under it. His muscles are toned, and his skin is smooth other than a scar near his hip. Tight leather pants cling to thick thighs and his big boots highlight his long legs. Even his arms are well defined, a belt holding some sort of flask wraps around his right bicep. His eyes are bright yellow, and you don’t know if that can happen naturally, and his hair is white with black tips, reminiscent of his tiger.

"Morgran Town? You’re a long way from home." He replies, motioning with his hand for you to come closer. Finally, out of the shadow of the rock, he can see you in the double moonlight. You feel…tiny. He isn’t super big, not like some you've met, but he isn’t short either.

"Well, I'm a traveler, my rover broke down a few miles back." You finally let your arms down and instead move to grip the straps of your pack.

"Headed to Korvo?"

"Yes."

"Don't."

"What? Why?"

"Two weeks ago, they got hit by slavers, it’s a ghost town." The man motions you closer and toward a stump he’s carved into a seat. Slowly, you walk the long way around, avoiding the cold gaze of the animal. You remove your pack, letting it thump next to your seat, but you don’t take off your other bag; just in case you have to flee. Now that you’re closer, you can tell that some kind of meat is being roasted on the fire.

"It won’t taste too good because I can't really cook, but it’ll be cooked." He flashes a smile, and it takes you off guard. He’s…adorable.

"You'll share?" You look at the roast, your mouth watering. You haven't has fresh meat in months, only dried stuff. You wonder if he makes the kill or his pet.

"Don't worry about Horanghae, he won’t bite unless I let him." He waves at the animal, and you nod, still feeling nervous in its gaze.

"I'm Hoshi." He holds out his hand to shake and you shyly return the gesture, and he sits back down at a long bench.

"You're a traveler? What do you do that for?"

"Oh, uh, I'm mostly looking for old wrecks of likes shuttles and ships and stuff." You shrug. It takes forever to find things like that, but you gained a knack for it, and it gets you a crap ton of money sometimes. While not official, you basically work for the International Assembly as a freelancer, so you do jobs at your leisure.

"That must take a long time." He smiles and you shrug.

"Sometimes. What about you?"

"I'm a Ranger." He holds up a medallion hanging around his neck that has an upside-down triangle-like logo on it. You’ve heard of them before, there aren’t too many of them, it’s hard to get accepted. They travel the desert and work as bounty hunters. That's all people really know about them.

"So, if Korvo is a bust, where should I head next?"

"Hm. There's nowhere close really, not that you can get to easily by foot…I can't leave here for a few days, so you can stay with me till then. I'll give you a lift after." He juts his thumb over to a hover bike that’s resting next to his abode.

"Oh! Thank you. That's very generous." You let out a sigh of relief, you were beginning to wonder what you were going to do. You’re really bad at hunting and have only so much water in your canteen. He tells you about his situation as you wait for the meat to be done. He has a well that’s in the back of his tent, which is half in the rock. He had blown a giant cave into it with a grenade and set up his home. Horanghae hunts for him, and he has a communication relay set up as well to talk with the rest of the Rangers.

"I only have one place to sleep though…" He finishes off his explanation and you wave him off.

"I can sleep on the ground, not the first time I've had to."

"No way. What kind of person would I be if I let my guest sleep on the ground?" He shakes his head. Thanking him, he declares the food done and hacks off a chunk for you. Hoshi spears the meat on a wooden skewer and hands it over. Eagerly eating the food, he watches in amusement at your ravenous behavior and then eats himself.

"Thanks. I can't begin to thank you; I would've been a goner." You shudder at the thought. If you had arrived at Korvo and found it wasted, you might have had a breakdown.

"Don't worry about it!" He takes the rest of the meat off the spit and gives it to the tiger. He leads you inside his hut, even carrying your big pack in for you. It’s nice and cozy inside, beautiful colored Afghans and rugs are laid out everywhere. The front room is like a living room and has a pile of pillows to sit at and even has a fairly nice holo-screen set up. There’s a curtain against the left wall that he tells you leads to the bathroom. The next room is the bedroom essentially and he tells you to go in and make yourself comfortable, he’ll sleep in the front room. Thanking him again you scurry into the back. That's where he has his communication equipment set up, and there’s an actual bed in there! Under all the blankets and pelts, there’s not just a sack of straw or even a crate; it’s an actual mattress. You haven't slept on one in almost a year. Taking your boots off, you jump on and groan at the comfort. Pulling the softest Afghan over you, you drift off quickly and sleep better than you had in a while.

A soft beeping stirs you from your sleep. Glancing at your watch, you see it’s almost sunrise and so you sit up, stretching with a groan. The beeping is coming from the monitor he’s set up. Not wanting to invade his privacy, you get up to go into the other room and inform him. He’s still asleep, spread out across the floor and pillows. His tiger must be outside. It would have been cute to see him sleep like that if it wasn’t for the fact his torso is now completely uncovered and only his lower half is covered by the blanket. Not just that, but his tight pants are thrown over a chair in the corner, and the blanket is tented in a very obvious way. The realization makes you squeak in embarrassment, and you flee back into the other room. While you haven’t been with too many guys before, you know for sure what he’s hiding under there. The soft beeping continues from the monitor, and you wonder what you should do. If he goes in there to check on it, he might not realize he has a…problem. Living alone probably allows him some freedom, but you’re here, and you aren’t sure he’ll think of that.

Dashing from the back room into the bathroom, you realize how bad you have to go. Once that’s done, you realize in shock that the plumbing is…actually plumping. Kind of. It’s one of those high-tech situations that vaporizes the waste into nothingness. The sink actually gives you water and it seems so will the shower. As you’re still in there, staring at your face in the mirror, you keep thinking of how to wake him. All of a sudden, the beeping gets loud enough for you to hear in the other room and when you peak your head out, you see he’s stirring. That solves that problem. Peering through the curtain, you watch him get up and your jaw drops as the blanket falls. Luckily, he’s at least wearing undergarments, but they’re tight and hide very little. He’s very nicely defined, his muscles aren’t huge, but he still looks extremely good. His hair is messy, and you’re enraptured watching him stretch. He trudges into the back room, scratching his chest and seemingly ignoring his morning problem. You hear a ding, and he speaks to whoever’s on the other line. His voice is rough from sleeping and you know you’re in danger. How is it that you managed to find such a gorgeous man out in the middle of the desert? Another voice responds to him, but you can’t pick out any specific words and soon their conversation is over, and you jump back into the bathroom and away from the curtain.

"(Y/N)? You in there?" He’s standing right on the other side, and you swallow before answering in the positive.

"I, uh, need in there, but…" You know why he’s hesitating and for some reason, some stupid little voice in the back of your conscience screams loud enough for it to come out of your mouth.

"I can help you with that." You blurt and gape at yourself in the mirror. He doesn’t say anything, and you kick yourself. Why, why did you say that? Before you can say anything else, the curtain pulls back, and you see him behind you in the reflection of the mirror. His look is much different than the night before. His yellow eyes that shined with laughter have turned sharp. It makes you shudder as you make eye contact with him indirectly through the mirror.

"I-I mean, I don't know how to thank you for helping me…So, I uh, can help with whatever." You’re glad the mirror don’t goes too low, otherwise you’d definitely be staring. You can see him slowly, look you up and down and you freeze under his gaze. It’s like what the tiger did to you last night, but ten times worse. You feel like a deer about to be eaten, and it turns you on to no end. Wandering around the desert for a living doesn't exactly afford many opportunities for romantic or sexual escapades. You figure the case is probably pretty true for him as well, if not more. You realize you’ve shed your shirt in the night; you’re just standing in the wrap-around you use as a bra and your leggings. Because of the heat of the desert and the tightness of said leggings, you usually go commando, and you wonder if you’re wet enough for it to soak through the fabric.

As he steps into the small space, he lets the curtain fall behind him but don’t step completely through the entryway.

"Are you sure?" He stares you in the eye, once again through the mirror, you do not yet have the courage to turn around. While you want to say you’re joking, that it’s just an impulse to tease, you can’t. Seeing him to begin with was enough, let alone in his current state...

"Are you sure?" You shoot back. You think yourself rather plain with no distinctive features. Your freckled skin from years of sun exposure is highlighted strangely by the tan line that formed around your goggles. You’re covered in dirt too because of wandering out in the blowing sand. His poor bed is probably covered in sand too. Not easy to find somewhere with running water, let alone hot water, your hair is pulled back into a braid but isn’t exactly clean. You’re glad that body odor had been genetically eradicated decades ago. Plus, compared to him, you’re painfully average.

When he don’t verbally respond, you grow even more nervous, but he steps in further till he’s standing a few steps behind you. He peers at the mirror from behind, and he’s nearly a head taller than you. His stare is even more intense now and you shiver. Taking a deep breath, you finally work up the courage to turn around, and he’s immediately on you. His kiss is searing, and you immediately groan. Nothing about it is gentle, it does truly feel like he’s trying to eat you. He bites your bottom lip, and you moan, his tongue quickly flicking against your own. Something cold and round hits your teeth and you realize his tongue is pierced. Oh Lord. Hoshi's hand comes to rest around your throat, under your jaw, but in no way harsh or tight. This way, he can angle your head just right. Your neck protests some and so you prop up on your tip toes, tipping your head and allowing the kiss to deepen further. His second arm wraps around you, almost encircling you while his hand grips your ass. The hand on your jaw moves to the back of your head and you wrap your smaller hands over his biceps. Pulling back for air, his fingers bury further in your hair and yanks your head back so he can kiss down the column of your throat. You moan as you feel his teeth bury slightly into the flesh, then he sucks hard, definitely leaving a mark. As he presses you so close to him, you can feel his covered hard-on against your bare stomach. Your head swims as he sucks on your earlobe and his hand leaves your head to wrap around your back.

"Jump." He orders and you follow, his mouth landing on yours again as he leaves the bathroom. The man easily carries you and brings you to the bedroom, "Put me down a sec." You tell him. Hoshi raises his eyebrow in question but does so. You immediately sink to your knees, and he groans before you even touch him.

"You sure?" He asks.

"If I goes to do something, I'm sure." You tell him, implying for him to stop asking. He nods and you nervously but quickly reach for the waistband of his only item of clothing. Exhaling, you remove the garment and gape as he steps out of it. Swallowing a build-up of saliva, you no longer have to imagine. What shocks you the most however is the two metal spheres adorning the head of his cock. A full reverse prince albert. That’s…the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

"Good?"

"Yes." You clear your throat, wiggling your jaw a bit then reach for him, swirling your tongue around the head, the metal imbedded there surprisingly is just as warm as his skin. He swears as you begin to descend. Your jaw protests some, but in the best possible way. You see his eyes widen in shock then narrow as he moans, your nose reaching his pelvis. Swallowing around him - the piercing is an odd sensation- you pull back as little as possible so you could still breathe. Once you find the proper depth, you pull off him and give him a look, spreading your legs more and placing your hands on the floor.

"(Y/N)?" He asks and you simply opens your mouth wide, tongue out.

"Fuck." He practically growls and he adjusts your jaw by the chin and then he slides in. Keeping your teeth covered is a little difficult with his girth, but you manage. You can focus on that while he does all the movement. He’s notices what you’re doing and makes sure not to go too deep but every so often so you can still breathe. Your gag reflex is pretty much gone at that point for several different reasons, but with his size (and the piercing) you let out a small gag every once and a while. Hoshi's hands dig into your hair as he uses your mouth, very quiet but high-pitched moans flowing out. Feeling him twitch, you know he’s close, and he almost pulls out. While part of him wants to see your face covered, he much prefers it when you grab the back of his thighs and bury him completely in your throat.

"Oh, fuck." He groans, throwing his head back as he cums. You moan at the feeling yourself and the vibration rolls his eyes back. When he’s done, you swallow to make sure everything goes down and he pulls out fully, still half-hard. Licking your lips sensually, he huffs and reaches down to lift you up under your arms. You yelp at the ease to which he does this, and he literally tosses you onto the bed. Grabbing the fastener of your breast band, he roughly pulls it open and off, the motion flipping you over onto your stomach. He’s manhandling you with such ease. Hoshi moves your braid out of the way and starts to lay seething kisses along your spine and over your shoulders. His hand comes under you and runs down your stomach till the tips of his fingers reach the waistband of your leggings. He pulls your waist up, his now fully hard cock wedged between the cleft of your ass. You’re definitely leaking through the fabric. Placing a final kiss on your shoulder, his hand hooks into your bottoms, and he tugs hard. You flip over once again and as Hoshi drags the last of your clothes off, he also tugs you to the foot of the bed. Before you can get your bearings, his hands grip your thighs - tight- and presses your legs open. You know you’ll have bruises there in the morning and his hot breath on your core makes your hips seize.

"W-wait-!" You gasp as his tongue licks a hot stripe up to your clit. You’ve never had this done before, just never really cared to. It’s something new for sure and it’s almost too much. The slight cold of the ball piercing his tongue makes you flinch. You can feel his lips curl into a smirk against you at this and catch him looking up at you. The sight is overwhelming, and he sucks hard on your clit, you head slamming back into the bed.

"You taste amazing." He groans against your skin. His hands move from your thighs, and he wraps his arms around your legs and buries in deeper. The holds he’s on you prevents almost all movement and your upper body squirms to compensate. Hoshi's tongue seems like it shouldn't be as long as it is, nor as strong. The piercing brushes right against your entrance and hits your clit over and over. He’s like a man starved, dehydrated, and he’s sucking your soul out.

"Ah!" You almost scream when he comes back to your clit and your orgasm hits you, hard. It’s stronger than you’ve ever experienced and lasts much longer. He groans against you, his continued tongue movements dragging it out. When it finally calms down, he pulls away as the overstimulation begins to sting. The man lets you catch your breath and when you’re able to open your eyes to look at him and he’s drenched.

"Oh my god!" You gasp and he just laughs, wiping his mouth and sucking everything else off his hand and fingers.

"You ever squirted before?" He asks and you shake your head, mortified.

"It’s okay, pretty girl, that was sexy." His smile is too cute for what he just did to you.

"You need a minute?" He asks and you rest back again with a nod. Delicately, instead of what he was doing before, he picks you up and shifts you higher up the bed. His lips come back to yours, gentle at first and growing heated again. There’s something about his kisses; they alone make your head swim. Is it him or his skill? The tongue piercing? Who knows? As he feels your body become less tense, his arms wrap around you and tilt your hips up so he can grind against you. You’re still somewhat sensitive so even just the slight friction is so good. Already knowing this from when he was straining your jaw, you know that his cock’s going to stretch you so good. The sting will be so worth it. It’s been a long time since anyone filled you up and no one ever has as much as you know Hoshi is going to.

"You ready, princess?" He finally lets your tongue go and you can’t form a thought to make words, so you nod. He smirks and the head pokes at your entrance. As he eases in, the sting is more intense than you though it would be, but so, so good. The stretch isn’t the only thing that takes your breath away. That gosh darn piercing perfectly hits your clit and rubs against your walls as eases in. At least he’s self-aware of his size because he goes slow, but knows he isn’t hurting you. Your hard exhales are tinged with a moan, nearly imperceptible. He’s big, you know part of it’s because you’re quite small, but his cock is impressive on its own.

"So tight." He grunts, grinding into you and your clit throbs.

"J-just give me a sec." You grip his shoulders, breathing through the delicious stretch. It feels incredible despite the slight pain. After you sit for a bit, he shifts some and then moves slowly, hiking your leg up over his elbow and he goes even deeper.

"Fuck!" You moan, your head tossed back, and you almost cum again right then.

"You okay?" He chuckles some, he can tell by how you clench that it feels good, not that it hurt. That fucking piercing brushes right against your sweet spot. Hoshi has already ruined you for any other man, and hasn’t even moved yet.

"Ready?" he asks, massaging your hip. You nod and the hand on your hip tightens its grip, and his arm hikes your leg up higher. He barely pulls out, maybe an inch, then his hips snap, and you cum.

"Ohgodohgodohgod." He grunts as you walls clench him tight and he’s growing smug at the pleasure he’s wreaking on you. In truth though, he’s trying really hard not to cum already himself. He knows he’ll have some time before he can again given he’s already came, but it has been a while. However, every other time he’s waited this long, he can go for many, many rounds. If he could, he’d keep you in his bed and in his hold for the rest of the day. He wants to make it so you can’t walk by the time he can bring you to the outpost. Honestly, he wants to make it so you never want to leave. When your orgasm dies down, he waits a bit longer, you lay limp in his arms.

"You're gonna have to do all the work now." You tell him with a tired giggle, likes he wasn’t already doing that. He smirks, notching your other leg up over his arm, then proceeds to fold your legs up to your chest. He presses your thighs down with his hands, forming more bruises and you prepare yourself. His next thrust is almost hard enough (it seems) to dislodge a kidney. It knocks the wind out of you and your sensitive skin burns. You’re in for a ride. His thrusts are not even as hard as they can be, you know. Hoshi only pulls his cock halfway out before he buries as deep as he can go. After every thrust, he grinds down into your clit, the metal ball inside rubbing your g-spot. Your moans are getting harder to contain, you almost want to scream. Drool pools out of the sides of your mouth; your entire body is on fire.

"Don't hold back, baby girl, let me hear you." He grunts out, his thrusts slowing but no less deep. Finally getting permission to be loud, you whine, and he unfolds you and leads you to wrap your legs around his waist. Up on his knees, he positions you to rest your lower back on his thighs and he rolls his hips to snap his cock into you over and over. The new position let that stupid piece of metal scrape perfectly against your walls, the head of his dick probably bruising your cervix. You’re ruined, no thoughts in your head. You’re letting out slurring moans of his name and pleas for…you aren’t even sure at this point. He’s fucked you stupid.

"(Y/N), pretty girl, where can I cum?" His thrusts have gotten more erratic, he isn’t able to hold back anymore.

"I-inside." You moan, able to form a complete thought.

"Yeah?"

"Please~!" You cry out and this sends him over the edge. Getting as deep as he can, he swallows your moan, sliding his tongue back in your mouth, painting your insides white. The hot sensation gives you another orgasm, not nearly as strong though, and it’s a relief. As the spurts of cum stop, he pulls away from your mouth and he chuckles at the fucked-out look you have.

"I'll let you rest, sweet, but then I'm going to fill you up again."

-> Series Hub <-

Master-Master List

Seventeen Master List

Taglist: @gaslysainz

[writingwithcolor]

Creatures of Folklore Who Represent Cultures Preventing Wars Throughout History

Anonyomous asked:

Hi! I’m writing a story which is set in a fantasy version of our world. The main difference between our real world and my fictional version is that the spirits and fairies of each culture and folklore exist, and that the majority of them basically stop war from happening because they react very badly (and potentially violently) when invading forces etc try to start battles. 

I’m doing a lot of research into the histories of the various cultures that will be featured in the books set in this world so I can hypothesise how they might have developed without, for example, violent colonialism, and where trade and so on might have flourished in its place. However, it’s possible for colonialism to happen through more insidious ways, such as assimilation. In one of my books, I’m intending to use this as part of the plot, where Japan will try to colonise the Ryukyuan Kingdom through assimilation, but will be stopped by the Ryukyuan Kingdom making allies with other nations (amongst other tactics), but I was wondering if you had any advice for respectfully handling the colonialism that very much did happen in real life in a fantasy setting where it didn’t manage to occur, without erasing the history and ramifications etc of what actually happened?

Do fox spirits have citizenship? 

You mean well with this concept, but there are multiple key problems. 

One major issue with cordoning off spirits and folklore creatures by “patron” culture and have them fight said patrons’ battles is that there’s a lot of overlap. It’d be hard for there not to be a conflict of interest. 

For example, everyone knows about the kitsune fox spirit from Japan. But the story of the fox spirit was introduced to Japan and Korea by China, where they are called húlijīng. These foxes are remarkably similar, with their characteristics and stories almost borrowed wholesale. Are they all the same “species?” If so, when small differences emerge in the countries’ folktales, how do you resolve this? Do these spirits also morph and specialize, or does one interpretation win out? How about when kingdoms are unified, like the Korean Three Kingdoms–do separate versions of the kumiho reverse-evolve into a single variant? What side do they pick when these kingdoms and empires try to battle? If they live apart from humans or aren’t very friendly with them, why would they have a reason to care about invasions when they have no reason to be allegiant to said borders, or whatever name they’re called in whichever country whose land they live on?

Folkloric beings are never static, and are influenced over time by cultural shifts and exchanges, including shifting borders. Human history is stuffed cover-to-cover with events of what we called “conquest” then and “occupation” or “colonization” now. And through these changes, cultures diverged and came together, creating new stories. In other words: not even fairy tales are immune to colonization. 

Leigh can explain the rest. 

~ Rina

The Problem with Retconning War

A very simple question for you:

How are you going to rectify every single historical war that’s ever existed?

Like, the whole plot of the Trojan War as we know it is that the gods of the same culture were on different sides! And the gods made the war last as long as it did. Alexander the Great was a colonizer. Romans were definitely colonizers. Ottomans and Mongols, also colonizers. It wasn’t to the scale of modern colonialism, but it happened. If you look at census records from the 1800s of Indigenous populations in North America, you’ll find that the men 20+ have way lower numbers because they died in war! 

I’m not of the opinion that the basic state of humanity is war and we are barely contained by base instincts. But I’m also not so far in the other direction that I believe humans lack any sort of warring instincts. It shows up in chimps and other primates, so it shows up in humans.

In a way, it sounds like you’ve taken a very Christian-fundamentalist-centric view of things, which is: humans need religion to be “contained”. That humans are amoral without some sort of religion or folklore or spirits telling them to not do a “bad thing.”

This is ignoring how people have been using religion to justify wars since religion was invented. As Rina said, there can be overlap in groups’ beliefs and deities so there’s the side-picking issue, which as I mentioned is the whole plot of the Trojan War. Even when humans write about gods meddling in war, they have the gods not all be on the same side.

Humans have war. Humans try to take over other groups because they want the resources that group has. Alliances shift. Territories shift.

This is also treating humans as a monolith—there are populations within the colonized groups that agree with the colonizers because they get benefits. Claiming that all colonized groups hate all aspects of their colonialism all of the time is deeply ahistorical and flattened. Sometimes the benefits were only for a small group, but sometimes the benefits were far-reaching. It’s in the India tag on WWC, varying views of the Mughals. 

Also, how will you handle the Christianization of Europe? How will you handle all of this folklore that only got written down via monks and nuns making notes and modifying beliefs to fit the Bible? Will any area with only Christianity’s records written down not have folklore? 

And how will you handle folklore drift? Religions are not static. If you look at Greek myths, there are ten to thirty versions of each story and those are just the ones that survived. Each city-state had its own mythology, using the same gods, modified to fit the local needs.

And what about folklore that deals with war and thrives in war? What about the gods of war and destruction? I know Norse mythology is Christianized beyond recognition, but even in its Christianized form half of it is about war. Would the Valkyries, whose whole purpose is to find valiant soldiers slain in battle, not want war? Their whole purpose is war.

Also, on top of it—how will you handle revolution?

You say yourself, colonialism could still happen subtly. Colonialism and injustice can still happen. Will these subjugated spirits force an already disadvantaged group to exclusively use a rigged system to try and politely ask for their rights back? Or would these spirits want to be free and support the means necessary to take it back?

War has happened to upend the divine right of kings. War has happened to free slaves (Haiti). War has happened for basic workers’ rights (some union strikes have resulted in war). 

You’re basically removing a whole toolbox in the fight for a better world. Yes, not being able to colonize because of fantasy AU sounds fine, until you realize that pretty much all of human history from the Romans has been created via war to some degree.

You’re basically just saying “violence is bad and humans need fantasy babysitters to not dive into it”, which really doesn’t sound that great once you sit with it. It removes human agency, removes human nature, and ignores the entire history of the planet.

-Leigh (Lesya)

Marika interjecting here:

We had an ask (Linked here) envisioning a story set in a de-colonized Hawai’i and the socio-political issues with that. Same problem.

[pinkyplushiemaker]

New 2025 Commission Information

Commission Information and Terms of Service

Information on Artist.

I started my plush work in 2013. I have worked hard on developing my style and process over the years. I create my embroidery and patterns from scratch, so everything I make is one of a kind. I do not sell my patterns because they are not normal and only I can understand how they come together. I live in West Virginia, USA. I can ship all over the country and internationally. I live in a dog, bird, and reptile friendly home. I love anime/manga, superhero movies/tv/comics, horror movies, animals, art, and making plushies.

My Plush Work

I work with minky fabric since it’s the highest quality I can use to make my work the best quality possible. I can also use faux furs, long pile minky, mochi fabric, fleece, and cotton if needed (or requested). I use upholstery thread when sewing my plush together. The thread is incredibly strong and the chances of pieces coming apart are very low. If they do come apart (very uncommon), just message me and I will fix and reinforce the piece.

My work is considered “art”, not factory produced for the general public. This means that they are unique and special, but it also means they are not really meant to be handled roughly, crushed, and/or given to very small children. They are pretty durable since they are plush, but any material can wear over time when they are over “loved” (lol). Taking them on adventures, and carrying them around is totally welcomed, just please go easy on the tug and pull <3

Ordering a Plush

Please feel free to reach out to me through Twitter (X), Tumblr, Instagram, or Facebook. I do my best to answer as soon as possible, but you are welcome to message again in case I have not replied after a few days. (I can get busy with the Plush Business, my full-time job, and taking care of my pets.)

Let me know what you are looking to have made. (I can make humans, animals, creatures, cars, robots etc.) Let me know what size and style you are thinking of and if there is a certain time you would like to have it made by. (It normally takes about 2-4 weeks, it depends on if I need to order anything specific.) Please provide images if possible (if you want something unique and only have a description, I can do a rough concept of the character for you, or if you would like to commission me to do art of the character, please feel free to request it). Once I have this information, I will give you a price quote. The quote will only be for the plush, this will not include the shipping or taxes. If you agree to the price, I will request an email from you and will send an invoice. It will list all the details for the transaction, including shipping and tax. The invoice is through PayPal Goods and Services, so we are both protected.

Once the payment is made, you are added to the queue. Before I start on the plush, I will create a concept for it. In this stage (and only in this stage) you are welcome to make any updates to the design. (For example: preferring a different color, wanting the eyes to be bigger, not wanting a certain part included etc.) I will do my best to get as close to the concept as possible. It will never be exact, but I do normally get really close. After the concept is finished, I will share fabric colors to ensure they are right.

Once everything is approved, I will create the pattern and embroidery files. Next, I will embroider the fabric and cut out the pattern. Finally, I will sew the plush together and share the final plush in our communication. I will need you to share the preferred name and address for the shipment. Once this information is provided, I will pack up the plush and send it out. I will provide the tracking when it is on its way.

Shipping the Plush

My standard shipping is first-class and using a waterproof bubble mailer envelope. This keeps the shipping as low as possible. ($7 within the US, $25 International)

For 2025, I am offering priority and over-night shipping (overnight only available in US). I am also offering the option to ship within a box instead of a bubble mailer. These options will be much higher prices and can be discussed while setting up the commission.

Please note, once I ship a plush and provide a tracking number. It is out of my hands.

Canceling a Commission

You have 1 week after ordering to cancel a commission. If I ordered materials for the project, it will be deducted from the total.

If a plush is not correct (and it is due to my mistake), I can grant a full refund. Unless I am able to fix the issue. The mistake would be due to me not using the correct color fabric, missing an important detail from the concept etc. Just not liking a plush or deciding you don’t want to pay for a plush once it is made are not valid reasons. I have various examples of my work and before commissioning me, please review my pages to make sure you like my style and quality.

Final Note

I am more than happy to work with someone to make a plush they can afford and love. Since all of my plush are custom and I make all the patterns and embroidery, I can make adjustments easily. For example, I can make the plush smaller and contain less details. I will be happy to explain what parts are causing the higher price and we can work out other options. I believe PayPal has options to make multiple payments too, so I can still get full payment and you wont need to pay in full right away.

Thank you for reading!! I hope I can bring your favorite characters to life 😊

[parisoonic]

I'm in love with how you draw characters (especially when you draw sniperscout and demoman in general), I'm unsure if you've answered a question like this before, but how do you figure out what to do with face shapes? It's hard to explain but the way you over-exaggerate certain features to make their design pop is so cool to me and I've never been able to do it for myself. That, and making faces look like.. well, faces.

thank you so much!!! hopefully i'm understanding you right...

Regarding the face shapes in TF2...we're all standing on the shoulders of the (excellent) design work already done and laid out. The characters have really nice distinct face shapes with some general overlap before you even consider that a lot of them have facial accessories which you can pick and choose from to help push facial silhouettes and peel apart characters that are a little similar.

Naff threshold filter heads to show silhouettes lol In order to exaggerate them - it's mainly about pushing and pulling the existing proportions and ratios of their faces IE: Making Medic's/Soldier's/Heavy's stupid large-chins even longer but sacrificing some of their forehead or eye-region. Varied proportions have a lot of 'rhythm' or 'appeal' and typically the human face can break down into the forehead (+ hair), eyes (I like to do a Batman style mask but people will often use the nose to form a triangle too) and then....everything else (chin, cheek etc).

Soldier, Heavy and Sniper all have REALLY similar proportional ratios but their silhouettes are really different (in both the x and z). When you add in that the 'default' way to view Soldier and Sniper is with their accessories they're all really nice and different. Funnily enough Sniper's 'eye mask' is teeny tiny with his visors off but this relationship changes with his sunglasses on. Kinda interesting... I sometimes like to think of visual vibe-based 'archetypes' when i'm drawing the tf2 guys. I don't have one for everyone yet but Heavy is sort of like 'handsome caveman' to me. Archetypally, cavemen are drawn with thick brows, small low foreheads and big chins. The 'handsome'-ness comes in when you apply a delicate approach to eyes, cheekbones, lips and with careful posing. Having this kind of visual-archetype in mind informs how I view the character as a whole and thus how i depict them! HOPEFULLY even if I drift away from how they actually look because the vibes are right...it feels right you know? There's also a sliding scale to me as to HOW you represent them. If the character is doing something goofy/stupid, drawing them less handsome and toonier can add levity. Obviouslyyyy you can have your handsome depictions making a dick joke (and that's its own sort of visual gag) but you'll notice in a lot of my images the straight-man gets drawn a little more...realistic? on-model? than the butt of the joke. It just feels more appropriate to me haha I'm using 'toonier' here to mean not only am I drawing fewer details but also exaggerating those ratios between areas of the face away from their 'default' ratio. like with most drawing-y things it's practice AND experimentation! i draw these guys differently depending on my mood and how generous i'm feeling towards their looks lol if you wanted tips on the construction of faces I really recommend checking out Griz and Norm's 'Tuesday Tips'. They're incredibly clear, concise and very approachable (and cover a variety of subjects!) Hopefully this link works? but if you search them on Pinterest and grab a cuppa, there's some AMAZING tips to be had here: https://www.pinterest.co.uk/search/pins/?q=griz%20and%20norm&rs=typed

[thelampisaflashlight]

Some hybrid ghoul thoughts, and Swiss and Dew. Let's go.

-Hybrid ghouls are ghouls that are at least partially human, however, the term is not used to refer to ghouls inhabiting human vessels, as the two can be pulled apart and made into separate entities if need be; Hybrid ghouls are genetically both, and usually have a biological parent or grandparent that was human.

In the pit, this distinction is not typically made since very few human-ghoul hybrids reside in the pit, and those that do typically refer to themselves under the umbrella term of being a multi-ghoul.

In terms of preference, Dew refers to himself as a hybrid ghoul, whereas Swiss likes calling himself a multi-ghoul.

-Both Swiss and Dew were raised on the surface, but they had different upbringings in terms of their awareness of their demonic heritage; Neither of them found out they were a ghoul until they were adults, but Swiss was informed by his parents, while Dew found out the hard way... accidentally taking a quick trip to the pit and getting effectively respawned in the abbey's woods.

Swiss was given more time to come to terms with and embrace his identity with his parents to guide him and teach him about himself, but Dew had to kind of dive into things on his own/with the help of his seniors at the abbey, with mixed results.

Swiss actually knows more about being a ghoul than Dew does... not that he'll ever admit to that.

-The lifespan of hybrid ghouls isn't exactly clear, and since there's so few of them (at least in regards to the ones the church knows about) it's hard to say how things will play out for them.

Swiss gets a bit more existential about the whole thing than Dew does, but that's because Dew already died once and he hasn't wholly unpacked that even though he's been a ghoul for ten plus years now.

Most ghouls are effectively immortal in the grand scheme of things, at least by human standards, but humans are definitely not long lived creatures in the eyes of the ghouls, so it's hard to say if they'll live forever, or if they're doomed to die -relatively- young in comparison to their peers.

It all really comes down to fate.

-Swiss and Dew both have trouble glamouring themselves for long periods of time unaided, because their magic reserves are smaller, so they both have markings -tattoos really- that have to be reinked every six months or so in order to grant them the ability to do so without wearing themselves out.

However, this also makes it difficult for them to dispel their glamours, which makes them easier targets from attacks by other ghouls or even other humans, because they can't whip out their horns or claws to defend themselves.

And lastly;

-On the topic of glamours... Swiss and Dew don't look much different unglamoured than they do glamoured, and Swiss is secretly disappointed that he didn't turn out more, well, cool looking.

Dew on the other hand... okay, he's also bummed out he doesn't look cooler.

However, not being overtly demonic has its benefits; Getting to go to the store half glamoured, your clothes and shoes don't magically stop fitting because you grew in size or have hooves now, etc...

Also makes for an easy Halloween costume... which will make your fellow ghouls roll their eyes and find you a better one.

So, free costumes.

Yeah.

[fanfictionsworld]

what if reader is having a very bad day and when they goes back home, Undertaker/Sebastian greets them and maybe tease them like usual but their s/o burst out crying? what would they react?

Sad reader/gender natural which i hope i wrote well/Undertaker x reader/Sebastian x reader/some fluff/just emotions that are beaing expressed in a strange way or is just me not knowing how to express my emotions/if this comes out weird pleas forgive me i am not good at telling people that i am sad/

Today was just not one of your happy days.

Its like that no matter what you try to do,you just could not cheer your self up.

Even some happy music could not change it.

Some thing in the back of your head just keeps putting you on the edge.

You can seem to stop it and its irritating you very much.

You are usually in check with your emotions and you proud your self on that.

I mean if everybody knew that you would feeling sad that would draw attention to you and you really do not want that.

Especialy with Sebastian who would literally trap you in his embrace until you tell him whats wrong.

But today was different you just could control your self,you just wanted to cry nothing else.

Its not like anything was wrong you just felt empty thats all.

Sebastian would make a big deal out of it if he saw you sad,which you did not want.

So as soon as you heard the front door of you apartment open,you pulled your self together,came out of your room and faced him.

You were smiling,saying hello and how was his day,etc.

Sebastian sensed something was wrong,but for now just chose to ignore it.

His focuse was now on a children's coloring book at the table.

You paint when something is bothering you,but he does not know that.

,,Darling,why is there a childrens coloring book at your table?

,,Are not perhaps too old for that,or maybe i am am falling for a baby,hm?"

That was it even though you knew he was just joking something about that seem to upset you,but you just do not no why.

And in the middle of the kitchen you brust out crying and you can seem to stop.

Your breath is heavier and you just can not stop your self,you feel like passing out,but strong arms catch you.

Sebastian lifts you up carring you to the room.

Upon entering he sets you down on your bed and his kises seems to calm you down.

You can not look at him you turn to the other side of the bed.

zou can hear a deep sigh from him and a large weight pulling you.

He has hugged you and know you cry even more.

,,You know i sensed something is wrong from the moment i walked in,but i thought nothing of it choosing to talk to you about it later,but if my teasing about the colouring book made cry you have my deepest apology my dear."

You wipe your tears take a deep breath and try to gather some strength to speak to him.

,,Its not your fault i do not care if you made fun of me for the colouring book i just had a really tough day its not like anything happened its just...its like..there something but there is not...i just i do not know how to explain it you know and i did not want you to worry because its nothing its just that its something and thats something is nothing and it would be stupied of me to say hey i am upset,sad and on the average of bearking down beacuse of something,but that something is nothing."

,,Darling if you are upset,sad or on the average of breaking down you should tell me,you should trust me about your feelings,whatever it is i will help you even if it is nothing and never say that your feelings are a problem to me beacuse they are not your feelings make you human a and love you for them.I know that you try to be strong hold them in check but you must understand that you can not keep them in dark for long and repressed them they will come and when they do this will happen and i do not want to see this happen to you,so pleas whenever you feel like this do not be afraid to tell me,i will help you in any way i can."

,,Thank you i am glad and i am sorry,from now on i will try my best to tell you my fellings,but now could you just hold me i could really use a good cuddle."

,,Of course anything for you my dear."

Some times your overthinking tendencies took better of you and to day was one of those days.

Working as a assistant to the undertaker was not a bad thing.I mean you were a nurse you know people die,but ever since your hospital put you on this part time job with him you just got hit with a realization of how people die every singel day.

Existential crises were not your style really and you try to avoid them as much as you can.

But it seems this one could not let you go.

So here you were in your bed in a spear room your boss made you just lying and looking at the celing questioning everything in your life.

As you were questioning your life away you did not heard a knock on your door and a tall dark figure approaching your bed and till you felt a heavy presence on the egde of you bed looking straight at you.

You set up next to him and he spoke.

,,Deary why are your eyes full of tears,are you crying for the life of the lost soul we just fixed,come now death is a natural thing it will come for you to you should laugh while you stil can,hihihihi."

Something about that just did sit rigth with you and you found your self slaping him,but his arm stoped you before it go to his cheek.

,,How can you say that does it not bother you that someday it will all just pass,how can you be so calm,there familys there loved ones,how can you say such things!"

,,I know that my dear,but still you have to realize that its just how it goes in life,pople die i know as a human its sad thinking about death,but if you worked as long as i have in this field of work you would get use to it.I am sorry if i have upset you but its just like that i know how you feel i also wish people would not die,but that is sipmle out of our power,you just have to come to terms with it."

,,I mean yes i get that,but stil."

,,Just know that death is a natural part of life,but remember that before you die do things that make you happy so that you never ever regret your life,okey?"

,,Yes,thank you for cheering me up i needed that,um i know its stupide but could you stay with me in bed for a while if its not too much of a problem?"

,,No of course not i will be happy to."