#at the end of the physical description of it

[engineofhelll]

[Image descriptions: A Bluesky post by Ro Salarian (username @rosalarian.bsky.social) that reads:

“Please don’t leave disabled people behind in your revolution. Please do not see us as sacrifices for the greater good, or dead weight. Please see our lives as worth saving too.

There are gonna be disabled folks who can’t contribute anything to The Cause. They have no money, no energy, no physical ability, no time. They will need to receive and will never be able to give back. You gotta save them, too. Especially them.”

End ID.]

[bambisworlds]

mirror sex with azriel

while azriel fucks bambi in front of a mirror, she disagrees with him when he says her body is perfect. he makes sure to set her straight (431 word count, kinda short sorry babes)

*bambi is my oc, click on my pinned 'about my blog' post if you wanna learn more about her :)

content warnings, mdni 18+

f!reader, bambi!oc, dom!azriel, mirror sex, praise, rough sex, degradation, spanking, brief face fucking, azriel doesn't play when it comes to his angel talking bad about herself, established relationship, no physical description on reader besides that she has boobs, let me know if i forgot anything x

"Look at us," Azriel says firmly but gently. Bambi lifts her head to look at the mirror at the bed's end. Her lips parted at the sight of Azriel's large body behind hers, her tits hanging heavy with hard nipples as he fucked her from behind, the mounds swaying with each thrust. His wings were flared behind him, a look of raw pleasure across his features as he roughly snapped his hips against her ass cheeks, "Look how beautiful you are when you take my cock," he pants, gripping her hips tight enough to leave bruises.

Bambi keens in response, watching the display eagerly. Her eyes scanned over Azriel's abdomen as his abs ripped with each thrust, then up to his face. His gaze was downward, watching his long cock slide in and out of her messy cunt with his mouth dropped open in unmasked bliss.

Azriel pushes roughly between Bambi's shoulder blades, "Arch your back," he demands, and Bambi complies, followed by a high-pitched moan from the new angle, "Look how incredible your ass looks," he says breathlessly, lightly slapping her ass cheek. Bambi held her head up just enough to watch as Azriel instructed, "I love this perfect fucking body," he moaned, squeezing one of her ass cheeks roughly.

"N-Nobody's perfect," she gasps out, hoping to elicit a reaction from him. 

Azriel hums in acknowledgment and halts his movements, "You always insist on saying such ignorant things…I suppose it's only fitting I fuck you stupid when you do so," he says, pulling out before slamming into her as he sets an unforgiving pace. Bambi lets out a high-pitched wail, her eyes rolling back. This is exactly how she hoped he'd react. Azriel roughly shoves her face into the mattress with his right hand, muffling her cries of ecstasy. His left palm smacks down on her ass again, producing another yelp from her, "My perfect girl, acting like an idiot," Azriel grits out, followed by another loud smack to her ass that would leave a handprint.

Bambi moans into the mattress incoherently, her body limp as she surrenders to his harsh treatment. She keens loudly as she cums, sobbing into the bed while her legs flail. Azriel doesn't relent, only stopping once her spasming has ceased around his cock. He pulls out with a grunt, quickly flipping Bambi over with a rough shove and stuffing his cock into her mouth.

"Gonna keep this mouth stuffed full until you learn to stop talking badly about my mate," he growls, thrusting in and out of her mouth as she gurgles and gags. 

if you have any requests including the people on my masterlist please comment them below or on my masterlist!! (check here: about my blog  to see what things i'm not comfortable with in regards to requests <3)

[66stitches]

abby anderson request !! :)

i wanted something where abby is starting to doubt her sexuality and trusts reader to ask questions and just talk about it (reader is a lesbian and they're close friends, it can end up with them kissing — or more, if you're comfortable)

cw: sfw, kissing (a lot of it), descriptions of masturbation (abby), talk of sexuality and questioning sexuality, no physical description of reader

a/n: thank you for the req !! I don’t write full on smut unfortunately (though I might write some short stuff in the future), but I tried to write a few kinda sexual scenes here and there

wc: idk prob like 1k

Daily click - Palestine masterpost - TLOU and israel

divider creds

Abby loved Owen, truly. She was attracted to him: that is what she kept convincing herself of everyday.

Every moment with Owen was a new lie she fed herself.

He was the man she loved. There was nothing she doubted in her relationship with him. The absence of love’s warmth meant to fill her body was her own fault; her inability to reach climax when they had sex was a problem for which only she was to blame.

It doesn’t mean she never tried, though. Abby had spent nights attempting to pleasure herself to the thought of Owen: the only person she should be thinking of; the only person supposed to be capable of reaching her to her climax.

And yet, all she felt was nothing. She laid in her bed, carnal and romantical dissatisfaction utterly consuming her. She was convinced that she was simply incapable of experiencing any sort of attraction exceeding platonicity.

But it only grew more confusing from there.

In another one of her inevitably futile attempts of bringing herself to climax to the thought of Owen, she felt her mind begin to drift to another thought that would hopefully bring her to that much desired release.

She didn’t intend for it to, but the man was just not doing it for her.

That night, she thought of a woman.

That night, she came so hard she swore she could see stars.

A specific woman she thought of in particular, but she would never admit who it was that finally relieved that ache. Not even in the confines of her own thoughts.

And so here she found herself, seated on the soft cushion of your worn-out couch.

You were Abby’s sole friend who was openly lesbian. Abby had seen you bring women over numerous times before. She had listened to your rants about your sexual and romantic encounters with women.

She even helped set you up with one, which harbored a slight odd feeling in the pit of her stomach for a reason she couldn’t quite decipher.

She had thought of it many times: what it was like being with a woman. She didn’t really know what to make of those thoughts. Whether it was mere curiosity, or perhaps something more.

And now here she sat next to you, trying to find the confidence to speak.

She never found it hard to confide in you. Of course not, you were her dearest friend. But this dilemma of hers was difficult to merely utter aloud, even if it is only to herself.

You were on your phone when Abby spoke.

“So… you’re gay,” she started, and she wanted to strike herself as soon as the words left her mouth, because of course you were gay. What kind of opening is that?

“Good observation?” You chuckled, bemused. You placed your phone down, curious as to where she was going with this.

“What’s it like? You know, being with a woman,” she asked, already regretting bringing it up, but she just needed some certainty.

Your eyebrows twisted in confusion at the inquiry. You and Abby were comfortable enough to share anything with each other. Nothing was considered too much information or too uncomfortable to talk about.

It was just an odd question coming from Abby, who you thought was so sure of her sexuality.

“I guess it’s like how it feels for you being with a man.”

God, she hoped not.

“Why?” You asked.

“Just curious, that’s all. Wanna understand your sexuality more, educate myself,” she spoke rather timidly.

You laughed softly. “Oh, because you’re so woke, right?”

Abby could tell you didn’t believe her. In all fairness, she didn’t really put much effort into trying to sound the least bit credible.

She didn’t even know why she was lying to you right now. She trusted you, she always has. This was just a difficult truth to face.

“I don’t know. I’m just feeling a little confused, I guess,” she confessed, shrugging.

“About your sexuality?” Your voice was slow, but your heart beat quicker than ever before.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t find Abby attractive. You’ve always had a little childish crush on the blonde, but you constantly found yourself trying to shove your feelings aside, somewhere far away so it could no longer reach to gnaw at your heart.

But now this — this made it all different. You might be getting slightly ahead of yourself, but you can’t help but think that now you might have the smallest chance with her.

“I don’t know— I mean, yeah, I guess,” she said as she fiddled with the seams of her shirt. “Owen’s just never really made me feel… well, anything. Anything you’re supposed to feel with a partner, I don’t feel it. I thought maybe the problem was Owen specifically, but I’ve come to realize that it’s not.”

“But women get you going?”

“I think so,” she admitted, finally. “I tried to think about a woman last night, while, you know…” she trailed off, her skin suddenly feeling very hot at the confession.

“And?” You whispered, feeling just as hot at her confession. “Was it just what you were missing?”

Abby went quiet for a moment, then she answered. “Yeah, it was.”

It was silent. Abby still looked like she had something to say, so you offered no response for a moment.

“But how could I know? I’ve never tried anything romantic or sexual with another woman, so how would I be able to tell? I could just be confused,” she said.

You were quiet, contemplating your next words. What you were about to do could either ruin your friendship, or elevate it to something more. You were relying on the latter.

“You wanna try?” You asked. Your voice sounded bold, but everything within you was shaking with apprehension.

She offered naught but an incredulous look. Her eyes were blown wide, disbelieving.

“What?”

Well, shit.

“I mean, solely for experimental purposes, of course. A kiss shared with another woman, just to be certain,” you explained.

The tension was thick, almost palpable. You were nervous at Abby’s silence and you realized that this is where your boldness gets you.

You were ready for her harsh rejection and the revulsion that would surely be evident in her voice, but then she spoke.

“Okay,” she said. Not a hint of revulsion in her tone. You didn’t know it, but her heart beat just as quick as yours.

“Really?” You asked, surprised as if you hadn’t been the one to offer.

“Well, yeah,” she leaned in slightly, bringing her face closer to yours. “Just for experimental purposes, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” you breathed. You brought your face to hers, and in a split second you closed the gap between you, meeting each other in a slow kiss, your eyes fluttering shut.

Her lips were soft. Her kiss felt nervous, lacking confidence, yet it still exceeded every expectation.

You pulled away once you felt it was enough. You looked at her and waited for what she had to say.

“Oh yeah, I’m definitely gay,” she said and pushed your face right back into hers, meeting your lips in a much more heated kiss.

This kiss, however, held the confidence the previous one lacked, her lips moving skillfully against yours. You waited for the shock to wear off before kissing her back, clearly not expecting her to want more.

You disconnected your lips once again, pulling her face away from yours. “Abby—”

“Just need-” she interrupted her own words to press another swift peck to your lips. “A little more-” another kiss. “Just to make sure,” she said, finally and pulled you in for another kiss. She cupped your burning cheeks with her palms and slipped her tongue into your mouth.

What was supposed to be an innocent kiss, solely for the sake of experiment (how the thought made you laugh now), turned into her exploring your mouth with her tongue and pushing her body against yours. This kiss held no place for innocence now.

She softly moaned into your mouth, the sound vibrating throughout your body.

She used her thumb to lightly caress your cheek as she kissed you like her life depended on it. She slightly pulled apart then, nibbling on your bottom lip with her teeth.

As the kiss came to an end, you sat staring at each other, breathless, and oh so blissful.

“You wanna know something?” Abby asked with a dumb smile on her face which brought another smile upon your own. You hummed.

“It was you,” she started, still faintly breathless. “You were who I thought of.”

Your eyebrows rose at the confession. It was unexpected, but certainly not disliked.

What you were more surprised at, though, was how casually she said it, seemingly too blissed out at the moment for any feeling of embarrassment.

“You telling me I was your gay awakening?” You asked, grinning.

“You could say that.” She shrugged and scratched at the back of her neck.

You laughed and scooted closer to her. “Well, I guess I’m honored then,” you said.

“Alright,” she rolled her eyes and laughed. She leaned in then, craving more of your taste.

You giggled into the kiss and pulled away, licking your lips to savor her intoxicating taste.

“I think we’ve already come to the conclusion that you’re gay. You still want more?”

She brought her face closer again and caressed your cheeks. She was close enough that you could feel her breath against your lips.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Now shut up and let me kiss you.”

[murdrdocs]

INTERVIEW 030. KICK-ASS murdrtober 2024 remnants. sex machines

Really, you and Kick-Ass should have a handler. Maybe that would keep the two of you from getting into irresponsible, and frankly, odd, situations. Such as this one. 1k+ words MDNI 18+

God, this is so irresponsible. The two of you are irresponsible. 

You originally offered to team up with Kick Ass to watch each other’s backs and hold each other accountable. A team, albeit a small one, nothing comparable to Justice Forever.

No other superhero is as active as the two of you, and being alone was never a good look, especially for you. So you needed someone with you, someone strong and recognizable. Someone who sent a message to anyone who even had the idea to threaten you. 

Who better than Kick Ass? Plus, you thought he was reliable. Save for the brief stretch where everyone assumed he abandoned his patrols, Kick Ass had been a steady figure in the community, always there to help whoever needed it. In the idea you conjured up of him, he would be that sort of figure in private, too. Someone who would keep you from dicking around as soon as there was a lull on the streets. 

Someone who would keep your head straight on your shoulders. 

Unfortunately, Kick Ass seemed to be as much of a dumbass as you—possibly even more. 

“I mean … when else are you gonna have the opportunity to use something like this.”

And Kick Ass does have a point. The two of you already got what you came here for—a tiny harddrive tucked in your top that you know to have intel about the latest crime boss to terrorize your neighborhood. The penthouse is empty otherwise, and the owner shouldn’t be back for a while, considering she's serving time and all. 

You and Kick Ass have the place all to yourselves, but that shouldn’t matter. You should be leaving the way you came out, but as Kick Ass claims: where’s the fun in that?

“What’s it feel like?” 

You swallow a moan before attempting to respond, and even when you do, you speak methodically, trying to ward off the way your voice threatens to wobble. 

“It feels like I’m being fucked by a machine.”

Kick Ass scoffs. You watch him put his hands on his hips, the muscles in his back flexing. Has his suit shrunk in the wash, or is he just getting buffer by the day? Knowing Kick Ass, it could truly be either. His head turns to the side as if he’s about to turn around,  but he stops at the last minute, likely remembering that the one thing you had asked of him was to not look. 

“Well that’s not very descriptive.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you want me to—” Whatever snarky comeback you were going to throw at him embarrassingly dies before it can be completely born. You can’t help but let out this moan, and to make matters worse, it’s loud. 

Louder than the mechanical whirring of the machine working. Louder than the squelch of your cunt sucking up the silicone dildo attached at the end of the mechanism. 

You think you see Kick Ass physically shudder, but you can’t tell when you’re struggling to keep your eyes open. 

“Is it …” Kick Ass hesitates. He clears his throat and tries again. “Is it better than … you know … a guy?” 

You don’t say anything for a minute, too busy trying to balance focusing on the pleasure and attempting to figure out where to go from here. Eventually, you simply say, “Kick Ass?”

When he says, “Yeah,” his voice cracks, but neither of you acknowledge it. 

“You can turn around.”

You expected him to question your change of heart. Maybe ask if you were sure. But he doesn’t. He just turns around, the heavy thud of his Timberlands knocking against the hardwood floors one after the other. 

You watch his light eyes settle on your face at first, and then slowly crawl down until he’s watching the faux-cock slip in and out of you. His lips part, a voiceless word slipping past them and out into the air. 

You don’t have to tell him to come closer, he does that completely on his own. He kneels beside you, attentive eyes flickering back and forth between your spread legs and your eyes with a slight squint that leads you to believe he might need glasses.

Whatever barrier that existed between the two of you before has been completely broken down. You’ll never come back from this, so you might as well feed into it. 

When you tell him to kiss you, he doesn’t hesitate. His gloved hands hold your face in place as he practically assaults his mouth with his. It’s sloppy, uncoordinated, and so hot. You’re feeding him moans and he quickly swallows them. You’re sliding your tongue and tongue, mimicking the action of licking ice cream. At one point, you suck Kick Ass’ tongue into your mouth, and he whimpers like a girl. You think he might wet like one, too. 

Only one way to find out. 

When you pull away, unattractively heaving in breaths of air, you ask him, “Do you wanna fuck me instead? Help me see which is better?”

The pressure is definitely on for him, but he’s so eager with the way he slips his suit and Timberland’s off that you don’t think this could go wrong. And you’re so, so right. 

Kick Ass’ eagerness is as useful as it is attractive. You expected his thrusts to be strong and jack hammering, and for a second it is, until you tell him to slow down and then he has passion behind it. Grinding his cock into you, sending all of his length deeper and deeper and gliding his girth along the ridges of your walls. It’s so much better than the unforgiving pace of the machine, and you make sure he knows, too. 

Scratching his back, threading your fingers into the curls you’d never seen before today, wrapping your ankles around his back and pulling him as deep as you can get him. You don’t know what you expected, but he certainly exceeds your expectations. 

He does wet like a girl, too.

And he’s loud. So vocal as he sings praises about how good your cunt feels (your pussy, as he calls it), how thankful he is that you’re letting him do this, how he’s thought of this ever since the two of you teamed up for the first time.

“I know, Kick-Ass,” you tell him, minutely nodding as you dig your fingernails into the cushion beneath you. “I know. Me too.”

“Dave,” he corrects.

You tell him your name, and then not even a second later you’re moaning his name. He slumps forward, nestling his head into the crook of your neck. His hand comes to the top of your head, holding you to him as you wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“You close?”

You nod, your nose brushing against his shoulder as your breathing increases. “I’m so close, Dave.”

“Yeah? You gonna come?” Dave asks, and you can hear the smile when he says it.

You hit him, because you just said that, but all of the strength in your body is focused on getting you there so it’s nothing more than a weak punch that actually makes him laugh.

“Prove it to me,” he taunts, the competitive side to him that you're so used to coming out. “C’mon. Show me.”

[komishko]

[ID: An arrangement of 12 simply drawn cats with descriptions, featuring:

Loaf - Emotional Support fren, I wanna bake you cookies.

Orange - Chaos incarnate.

Liquid - Casually defies the laws of physics, warfare, and the card game UNO.

Witch - Spooky Themed! Plotting something /silly.

Tux - You're actually so cool how are we moots oh my god.

Skrunkly - Silly incarnate.

Void - [keyboard smash]

Little shit - You...

Smol - May I just gently hold you in the palm of my hand?

Creature? - Eldritch creature? Still absolutely fren shapes.

Shorthair - May I please hug you?

Cloud - You are so chill, I just wanna follow you around.

End ID.]

WHAT KINDA CAT ARE YOUR MUTUALS

I REALLY WANNA SIT HERE AMD GO THROUGH TAGGING EVERYONE BUT I HAVE TO GO TO BED NOW SO I’LL DO SO TOMORROW!!!

[cruel-hiraeth]

꒰ THE UNBEARABLE WEIGHT OF LOVE ꒱ RORONOA ZORO X READER

warnings ⟢ slight angst (though it gets resolved). hurt/comfort. mentions of death and dying. descriptions of blood and wounds. brief allusions to buddhism. reader is gn and described as “beautiful” once.

word count ⟢ 1086

notes ⟢ happy birthday to my most beloved! this fic is self-indulgent (i.e. full of my hcs about zoro’s childhood) and a labor of love. the three of swords design in the banner is from the rider-waite tarot deck. three of swords generally depicts a difficult, sorrowful experience.

So this is how it ends.

The midafternoon horizon is fathomless—a halycon ocean—the sun anchored in its depths. A cool breeze stirs, kissing his tawny flesh, rustling his hair, and chiming his earrings; whispering beachgrass casts sinuous shadows across his face, allowing his good eye to rest in partial shade. Nearby, the tide laps at the shoreline—tenderly, the caress of a lover. Foam glides across half-buried seashells and beached debris in a brief greeting before returning to the sea, heeding her call.

Where Zoro is, he can’t be certain (not an uncommon occurence, though he would never admit it). His robe was slashed off at some point, and fell to the ground in shorn tatters. He lies bare-backed in a slurry of sand and ichor, his swords beside him; weeping wounds litter his torso, the most gruesome of which stretches from his navel to his right side. While he had the wherewithal to cut his haramaki and tie it around his waist as a makeshift tourniquet, the fabric is sodden, metallic teardrops puddling in the sand.

Pain is a feeling he greets like an old friend. It’s comforting, almost, like a suffocating embrace. As a boy, he had to nurture that cold familiarity if he wanted to survive—be it fighting bigger kids for spare scraps at the orphanage, or taking lashes from a bokken at the dojo. Strength comes with a cost, as does physical and mental growth. Existence is suffering, and suffering is—in its purest form—pain. But the mind-numbing sting that currently radiates from his injuries is the last thing on his mind.

For the first time in years, Zoro is afraid. He shivers despite the scorching sunbeams, sucking in shallow mouthfuls of air, glistening beads of sweat sliding down his body toward the earth.

It isn’t the prospect of death that scares him; he has walked most of his life along the corpse-strewn path of demons, fighting against his fate as an asura. And he has peered into death’s grim visage before—too many times count. He even dived into hell and cleaved through its bowels to face Enma, emerging victorious as the king of souls departed.

Regret, however? Regret is a different beast.

It’s why he trembles now, covered in grime and gore, half-lucid. As dark thoughts slink to the forefront of his consciousness, he’s aware that dying here will mean failing. Not simply failing himself and his own dream of becoming the greatest swordsman, but also failing his captain and best friend, and failing to preserve Kuina’s legacy. Most gut-wrenching of all, he knows that dying here will mean failing you. There’s so much Zoro wants to do with you, so much he wants to say. He itches with regret, calloused digits twitching at his sides, desperate to claw his skin off.

Clarity torments him. Memories flit before his steel gaze, now wet—a tear-streaked blade. He sees you: the flicker of your eyes when you tell a story; the curve of your lips when you poke fun at him; the halo of your hair when you nap against his chest; the set of your jaw when you’re serious. More than anything else, he longs to tell you how he feels.

I love you.

Three simple words that he always struggled to string together. Perfect moment after perfect moment was presented to him on a gilt platter: inside the crow’s nest at dawn, or beneath the lush boughs in the tangerine orchard—even perched atop the Sunny’s bow to watch the sunset. He squandered each of these opportunities because he (foolishly) assumed there would be more in the future.

I love you.

If only he could muster the strength to breathe out the sweetness of your name once more—to taste each smooth, honeyed syllable on his lips, to feel it silken on his palate. Maybe then he could forgive himself. But instead, it dies on his tongue as his vision blots and blurs. Eventually, his world goes black.

I love you.

Zoro awakes to the muffled creaking of a hull.

His head pounds, his mouth is bone-dry, and his limbs are leaden and stiff; he feels like death, and suspects that he looks like it, too. Surgical gauze tightly wraps his frame, stifled wounds screaming in agony. When he glances up and sees framed pictures of the crew above his cot, he recognizes where he is: the Sunny’s infirmary. In his periphery, you’re sitting at Chopper’s desk with a book in your lap. He tries (and, to his frustration, fails) to shift into a seated position. As soon as you notice the movement—head snapping up in surprise—you rush to his bedside.

He waits for you to reprimand him for being so reckless while away from the rest of the crew. But you don’t—not yet, anyway. (Not until he’s mostly healed. And for that, he wonders if you may be an angel.) Instead, you kneel on the wooden floorboards to level with him. Your fingertips tentatively brush against his cheekbone, as though you’re testing to ensure that he’s real. Content with what you find, you cup his chin, allowing him to lean into the soft warmth of your touch, catlike.

“I was worried about you. Well, so was everyone else. But I’ll only speak for myself,” you murmur.

His voice is gravel, cragged from disuse. “Sorry.”

After a few beats of silence, he clears his throat. “Is Chopper on break?”

You nod. “I’ve picked up the night shift so he can sleep.”

“How long was I out for?”

“Roughly two days.”

“Fuck.”

That draws a chuckle from you.

Zoro swallows. “Listen, I—”

Your thumb grazes his chapped lips, forcing him to pause. “Save your energy, Zo. You don’t have to defend yourself; you’re safe with me. I promise.”

Tired but patient, your gaze breaks him, only to piece him back together. His heart aches.

He inhales deeply. Then—in a flood of emotion he can’t stem—the words flow out: “Y’know I’m not good with feelings…or words. But, uh…” A broad palm wraps around your wrist, your skin hot against his. Ignoring the heat creeping up into his cheeks, he sighs, “I love you.”

Before he can second guess his confession, your lips bloom and burst into a radiant smile, setting your features alight. He doesn’t think you have ever looked more beautiful.

“I know,” you admit airily. Leaning in, you dot a kiss to his scarred eyelid. “I love you, too.”

[rawbin-hsr]

Hi! Could i request Feixiao, Boothill, and Argenti with a s/o who has panic disorder (or panic attacks in general). Just generally how they react and such :)

@dragon-anon

A/N: Surprisingly I found this a little difficult IUESJhief I have a lot of experience with. having anxiety when I was younger. I think I was even diagnosed with it at some point ? Which is weird because I’m not diagnosed any longer and I no longer really get anxiety attacks so idk what the fuck that was erm. Anyways that’s beside the point. I really struggled to make Feixiao and Argenti different because I think they would handle it similarly (hence why Argenti’s part ended up so much shorter than the other two, cause I didn’t want to just. Repeat Feixiao’s whole part.) and I’m a little worried Boothill is ooc because I haven’t done the new quest and it seems like it showed a lot of his backstory so forgive me if I’m not up to date on that. Sorry about rambling I’ll get on with it now help

Reader has an anxiety disorder

Characters: Feixiao, Boothill, Argenti

Cw: anxiety/panic attacks (descriptions kept brief, not very detailed), slight mention of self-harm inflicting behaviours in Argenti's part (only reader unintentionally scratching themself, not necessarily done out of a desire to harm oneself).

Lmk if there's anything else I should add !

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

╭──────────.★..─╮ Feixiao ╰─..★.──────────╯

Oh she’s great 

Amazing at picking up your signals, amazing at assessing what course of action would help you most, amazing at following through with it

She can tell what sets you off, even without you telling her, and she has a lot of firsthand experience with handling other people’s anxiety (both from more intimate relationships and from soldiers she doesn’t exactly know on any personal level). It’s not hard for her to figure out what calms you down most quickly. 

Your episodes have never been shorter than they are with her around 🙏🙏

I’m not sure exactly how I imagine her handling it, because I think it switches a lot depending on what she knows about you. If she knows you find physical touch comforting, she’ll hold you and gently talk you down. If you’re the type who doesn’t need much reassurance, she’ll firmly remind you of where you are, that she’s with you, that you’re safe, etc, etc. She’ll find whatever solution works best for you. 

Apart from being great with damage control if you do have a panic attack, she’s also pretty good at preventing them from happening in the first place. 

If she recognises you’re stepping into an environment you’re likely to have an attack in, she’ll either steer you out of it if she can or she’ll make sure you’re in there for as little time as possible. Like, for example, if you’re bad with large crowds, she’ll usually just find a less packed road to take around the mass of people.

Obviously it’s unavoidable sometimes, and she won’t always be able to adhere to you completely because she does have a very important job that she can’t really put on hold for your sake, but like I said, she’s great at handling it then too. 

If something needs to be done but you can’t do it, she’ll do it for you (after gently trying to encourage you to face your fears and do it yourself — but she does quickly relent if she notices you really, really don’t want to)

10/10 would recommend she’s amazing

╭──────────.★..─╮ Boothill ╰─..★.──────────╯

I feel like Boothill would be absolutely dogwater at preventing any anxiety attacks from happening, but he’d be great at stopping them once they do happen

Like obviously he won’t trigger you on purpose but he won’t tiptoe around the things that put you off either. Both because he doesn’t usually have much choice in the matter considering his line of work, and because he believes in exposure therapy. And because he maybe sort of kind of forgets. 😭

But he’d be great while you’re in the middle of an anxiety attack ! So that counts for something !!!!

He always manages to snap you out of it pretty quickly. Takes you out of the situation once he recognises the signs that the attack is coming, then gets you present in the current moment again. How ? That’s very simple. He confuses the fuck out of you

You know that tip about making someone having an anxiety attack bite into a lemon ? Yeah

(If you haven’t heard about it: a way to snap someone out of a panic/anxiety attack can be to make them lick a really sour lemon without any warning. The sensory input is really overwhelming and the person having the episode might be so shocked by it they kind of just snap out of it because who the fuck makes you taste a lemon when you’re at your lowest like that ???)

You’re curled up in a ball, hyperventilating because there are too many people, too many sounds, too many what-have-you ? Not anymore, now you’re too busy being confused and lowkey angry at him for shoving an ice cube down your throat. Like wtf are you doing my guy

Usually his little stunts do the trick to get you out of that headspace, and then he can just verbally talk you down so you’re nice and calm again. Will let you cool off while he solves whatever issue it was that led to your anxiety attack. Don’t worry about it anymore, he’s got this. 

If he can’t confuse you out of it, though, he’ll just do whatever you’ve instructed him to do while lucid. If it’s hugging you and talking gently until you’re calm, he can do that. If it’s to just take you into a quiet space and let you ride it out, no problem. If it’s to just continue on and let you just stand next to him, sure. 

Only thing he won’t do is to avoid your triggers altogether. He can give you a heads-up when possible, he can let you sit it out if you really need to, but he won’t (in his words) “baby you”. In his opinion, you’ll never get over it if you just avoid it forever. 

He says it in a kind of harsh way, but there’s genuine care in his tone and his expression, so you know he doesn’t mean it like that. 

All in all I think Boothill is really great if you’re the resilient type and you have the kind of anxiety that can actually get better through treatment, but if you’re sensitive and need someone who actively helps you avoid your triggers I definitely wouldn’t recommend him 😭

╭──────────.★..─╮ Argenti ╰─..★.──────────╯

Obviously amazing at handling it is there anything he’s not good at ? 🙄 (/j)

He immediately becomes very serious when he realises your control is slipping, falls silent and looks at you worriedly. He recognises surprisingly quickly what’s happening, and steps into your field of view and crouches down, makes sure you can see his face. Takes both of your hands in his, wishes he didn’t have armour so he could let you feel his heartbeat.

He calmly talks you out of it. He sounds so sure of everything he does, to a point where you’ll question afterwards if he has firsthand experience with this. 

(He does. He used to experience a lot of anxiety and panic attacks as a child, it is only natural when you grow up surrounded by war; you’d never guess just looking at him now, though.)

He’ll obviously switch how he handles your panic attacks if you ask him to, but his default is to hold your hands (both to prevent you from accidentally scratching yourself, and to remind you he’s there) and to softly reassure you

I think he becomes sort of hyper aware of what triggers you, and does as much as he can to avoid it. Lowkey starts to baby you a little, but just a little, and even if it’s annoying it’s done with love, done out of a desire for you to be happy. It does put him in some tough spots though, considering it means he sometimes tells you to sit an adventure out, but the plan was for it to have the both of you and it’s harder to handle a lot of things alone 😭

Overall super good though I love him <3

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

My inbox is open, feel free to send in asks or requests, I'd love to ramble about things <3

[dailydemonspotlight]

Hello! Is there any chance you could do Nahanananggal? One of my favorite designs in the series :3

Day 18 - Manananggal (Request)

Race: Femme

Alignment: Neutral-Chaos

April 15th, 2024

Admittedly, I had no idea what I was getting into with this design. Having never played V, the game in which she first appears, I wasn't expecting to find much from a demon this late in the series, yet the Filipino influence in V gave birth to a strange, freaky, and frankly sick looking demon.

A witch from the Philippines, Manananggal is a strange, almost vampire adjacent bit of mythology typically used as a boogeyman of sorts. The strange folklore surrounding this being goes that it's a witch who takes the form of a beautiful young woman at day, yet shifts into a hideous form at night, typically infiltrating homes and villages to feed when the sun goes down on clueless families. Her name means remover, and that is exactly what she does, as the witch will typically target families expecting a baby and, when the sun goes down, will suck the blood of the fetus with a long proboscis, typically killing it.

My personal theory about this is that Manananggal may be a sort of explanation for stillbirths, as the idea of killing a baby while still in the womb coincides heavily with a stillbirth, as well as an early pregnancy, as some myths say that the witch may deliver the fetus far earlier than expected as well.

Typically in Filipino folklore, when it turns to night, the Manananggal will separate its torso from its chest, sprout wings, and the way to kill one is also connected to this hideous transformation.

At the left-behind torso of the witch, in order to kill a Manananggal, one must spread cloves of garlic or salt all over it. When the witch is to return when the sun rises, this will apparently remove the spell, causing the monster to burn alive in the sunlight, and be unable to rejoin with its body.

In terms of design, Manananggal is very faithful, appearing with a separated body from her torso in the sheen of a beautiful woman. The batlike wings and proboscis-esque tongue are very common in depictions of this monster, and overall, she has a very unique yet faithful design. Unfortunately, I cannot give a gameplay overview on account of not having played V yet, but this demon is shockingly well designed, and connected to a very underrepresented bit of mythology in the SMT series. 10/10 for me.

Now, I have to wonder, would a Manananggal find a lucrative business in abortion?

[viperwhispered]

And here she actually is

*jazz hands*

an actual sprite for Emi, if you can believe it

Smushed together from different bits and pieces thanks to @alchemivich's assets. Hair is from pngimg with a CC BY-NC 4.0 license, I'll put the link in the replies.

Thanks to Deuce, random dormless background student, Cater, Azul and random Styx scientist for their contributions for making this happen.

Tagging @scint1llat3 @diodellet @moonyasnow @bibi-cha

If anyone else would like to tagged for Emi stuff, please let me know!

You can find more information on my yuusona Emi here on the masterlist.

[tired-demonspawn]

i struggle a lot with deviating from the original design when doing fanart because i fear the character won't be recognisable anymore if i dare change the colours here and there

i think its a damn shame since i see all the cool spins on character designs and think "man, i could do that"

so here's my two little thinkin pieces on me, yknow, doing that, with alastor :)

i might actually make the final one into like... a thing??? but don't count on it, my attention span is abysmal.

[silverwhittlingknife]

i have a special place in my heart for "show don't tell" storytelling, especially in comic books. comics are a visual medium!

[finifugue]

One day I will not write stupidly complicated AUs for racecar drivers. Meanwhile, have a snippet of an AU where the Gang r scientists who discover that the centre of the earth is actually a black hole and it's actually a big fat metaphor for divorce.

“Disaster parameters?” Oscar asks, a little weak. George sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Thirteen percent chance that half the ship’s particles will tunnel, leaving the other half irreparably entangled with the atoms of the earth itself, which ‒ well, it won’t be painful, not for very long, anyway. There’s a six percent chance the entangled particles will tunnel with themselves, at which point we’re not… quite sure what will happen, but we think it’ll be a quick death as well. Then there’s a point-two percent chance that the accelerator will entangle every particle inside the ship, instead of the layer on the outside…” Charles finishes the sentence for him. “Which will turn all of us into walking, speaking atomic bombs. Possibly immortal. We only were able to test it theoretically.” He waves a hand. Oscar tries to explode his head with his mind.

[hivepixels]

being a sollux fan is suffering cant even check his tag w/o getting ersl as the first result😭😭 pissed me off so bad i actually blocked the artist sjdjsjjsjdsj

HELPPP i wish tumblr's filter content settings actually hid posts entirely instead of leaving it behind a wall. but i will say there were two fairly recent ersl interpretations that i found pree fresh, rlly gotta clown these charas for the funs

[alphacrone]

this is your reminder that 99.9% of employers care more about money than you and even if they are kind and fair now they WILL at the end of the day put profits over your well being so absolutely do not sacrifice your life for them.

[yearningaces]

Heyo, would you mind describing what Ofius looks like and his general vibe?

I usually don't describe well enough appearances, my mortal failing as it were lol

Ofius is a giant, this is known. He's a giant big enough to hold you in the palm of his hand for size

As far as looks, I'd say dark brown hair, scruffy beard that's just long enough to be considered a beard and not stubble. His hair is probably longer due to him not caring about keeping it cut because that's a maintenance he doesn't think a lot about. He will braid sections of his hair to keep it out of his face though. He's a burly kind of guy, no big shoulders small hips, he is BIG wide hips, wide shoulders, big legs and arms. For a physical reference have you ever seen heavy weight champions? They're so strong but that's not pure muscle that's muscle and fat working together, that's Ofius. Various scars on him, either from building things (like his cabin or his animals barn, or his tools) or from fighting (other Giants/giant animals that come from the same places Giants come from)

Rugged looking guy, goes about life looking intimidating with a neutral expression towards everyone except for his human partner. Then those dark eyes of his look like they've seen the sun for the first time

Sidenote: usually wears red

General vibe? If you met him in public you wouldn't chat about the weather with him, but also if you were being harassed, he'd probably be the best person to go to if you wanted to ward someone off. Like the bird that would let the mouse hide under its wing during a storm without saying a word or looking down

If you were his human partner his vibe morphs into a pious man looking upon the altar he built by hand for the one that gives him light in his life

[anghraine]

For some reason, I woke up thinking about Elizabeth and the sort of physical dimension of the novel.

To back up a bit, Elizabeth's physicality as a character is pretty widely acknowledged. We know more about her appearance than that of any other character in the book, to begin with. She's the only character in P&P whose coloring we know anything about (she has beautiful dark eyes with fine eyelashes), while we repeatedly hear about her light figure, her summer tan, and her general attractiveness—she's not stunning, but pretty.

There's also a sense of physicality in terms of her actions and reactions. She habitually walks and runs. She blushes frequently; at Pemberley, before Darcy shows up, she blushes as she admits to knowing him, concedes that he's very handsome, and shortly thereafter blushes deeply again upon encountering Darcy himself. Her impression of Pemberley is powerfully affected by the physical features and aesthetic of it, more than by its grandeur. Upon meeting Georgiana, Elizabeth likes her but also can't seem to help noticing that Georgiana isn't as good-looking as Darcy. Later, when Darcy shows up in Hertfordshire with Bingley, Elizabeth blushes again, smiles with delight, and her eyes shine.

But something else I find interesting is that Elizabeth is also linked to physical things to some extent. There are the infamous muddy skirts that she drops her overskirt down to conceal. There's her book at Netherfield. She preserves Darcy's letter until their engagement and only destroys it for his peace of mind. She rushes to find her parasol for her confrontation with Lady Catherine. She wears a watch.

IDK, this isn't going anywhere in particular, but I find it interesting that we get this paraphernalia alongside a comparatively distinct sense of Elizabeth's physicality and how she interacts with the outside world. At the very least, I think the paraphernalia reinforces the sense of Elizabeth as a very physical presence in the world.