#but it's normal to have preferences for some

[tojbnuy]

by popular demand and since i hit 1k! here’s a part 2 💞 find part one here! art by @ _3aem on twt!!

bestfriend!satoru who always takes you on late night drives if you’re feeling upset. he’ll buy you something sweet and when he drops you back home he’ll always leave you with a little kiss. he doesn’t want his favourite girl being sad.

bestfriend!satoru who absolutely adores the way you smell. everytime he’s near you in class he places his hands out for some of your hand cream and he sits there sniffing his hands afterwards.

bestfriend!satoru who will always suggest a horror movie when it’s movie night with your friends. he knows it’s only a matter of time before you’re freaking out and you’ll climb into his lap. ‘sshhh you’re okay baby i’ve got you’ and while you’re distracted his hands will find their way under your top and start stroking your back and tummy.

bestfriend!satoru who insists on massaging your back when you come round. ‘take your top off baby it’s just me’. he’s working on getting you to take off the bra too, all in good time.

bestfriend!satoru who is so used to you wearing long sleeved and baggy hoodies that the random times you wear something that clings to your figure he all but passes out. suddenly his hands are all over you and to everyone else in the room you probably look like a couple. (just how he intended)

bestfriend!satoru who insists kissing your best friend on the lips is normal. it’s cute. ‘come on baby another one. i’m your best friend’. is using tongue normal? he doesn’t care.

bestfriend!satoru who wears compression shirts around you all the time because he overheard you talking about how much you like guys with big biceps. he doesn’t want to sound big headed but he’s caught you staring a few times now.

bestfriend!satoru who goes through your underwear drawer when you’re not present. he wanted to know your cup size but the pink and the lace got him distracted.

bestfriend!satoru who really is such a perv when it comes to you. he can’t help it you’re like a drug. sometimes he knocks his pen off the table because he knows your sweet self will quicky bend over to retrieve it for him. he’s left with the adorable sight of your panty clad ass, white ones today just how he likes. ‘thank you baby.’ ‘you’re welcome toru.’ god you’re just so cute.

bestfriend!satoru who helps you dye your hair. he doesn’t care that he’s leaving with splotches of black on his arms and hands. it’s worth it when you give him those big hugs with your arms wrapped around his neck.

bestfriend!satoru who is in love with your handwriting. ‘course a pretty girl has pretty handwriting’ it’s all cursive and slanted, he even makes jokes about you writing something for him to get tatted.

bestfriend!satoru who knows you love to cuddle. he was never much of a cuddler himself but he would have to be sick to pass up on the chance to hold you. ‘no of course i dont mind pretty.’ your head lays on his chest and one of your thighs covers his stomach. he could die like this and he would die happy. (preferably he would die in between your thighs but)

bestfriend!satoru who gets upset when you’re laughing a bit too loud when talking to suguru. he knew for a fact suguru was not that fucking funny.

bestfriend!satoru who absolutely abuses pet names when it comes to you. His baby His pretty girl His dolly

bestfriend!satoru who’s always patting your bum. for what reason who knows.

part 3 !!

taglist : @haruhatake @moncher-ire @startwithrecords @ranatherealestsigma @chjinua @whozeurdaddy @sukuxna0 @purp1eha1o

[24hlevi]

not sure which characters u write about for arcane!! but if you do male characters, could be anyone of your choice where they don’t get the hint you like them or want to take their relationship further (depends if u wanna do sfw or nsfw!!) :) tyyy!

for male characters i write for jayce, viktor, ekko, and silco! thank you for requesting 🫶

— TAKE A HINT

viktor (arcane) x gn!reader

warnings/tags: oblivious!viktor, confessions, fluff, sfw

you thought you were going mildly insane, having a crush on your friend as his second partner to jayce

to be fair, you kinda were, judging how no matter what you did in attempt to give hints just led nowhere

you tried talking to jayce on a few occasions, trying to get some advice on what to do, but he wasn't much help with relationship stuff as he claimed

you tried over and over again to get viktor to notice you more than just a friend, and every time, he couldn't tell

"hey," you say softly, slowly approaching viktor from behind with a hot cup of tea in your hands.

viktor turns his head as soon as he hears your voice draw him out of his work, and a small smile grows on his face. "good evening, yn," he replies.

"i brought you some tea," you set the cup down carefully next to his papers that were scattered along the table. "have you ate anything yet?"

"thank you," viktor responds, his eyes following your hand as you set the cup down. "i have not," he then shakes his head. "jayce tried asking earlier, but i wasn't quite hungry."

"would you like me to try and make you something?" you ask, looking down at him as you fiddle with your hands anxiously.

"mm," he hums, shrugging his shoulders lightly. "i would prefer your presence here with me. if you don't mind, that is."

"i don't mind," you shake your head, trying to fight the smile forming on your face. "just tell me what you'd like me to do."

"nothing," viktor answers, having you look at him with confusion. "you don't have to do anything, precisely. just your presence is enough."

"oh...okay,"

you still couldn't figure out how to get viktor to realize you had feelings for him, you couldn't believe how oblivious he was

after years of liking the male, he didn't ever seem to appear like he reciprocated those feelings, making you slowly give up as time went by

it wasn't until one early morning, that it all finally fell into place

viktor slowly made his way to the lab. it was early morning, the sun hardly peeking out from over the horizon as he hobbled through the hallway. this morning, he was already thrown a bit off his rocker. for he hadn't seen you yet since he woke up. normally, you would be awake and moving before him and jayce, so it was odd to not see you around as he walked down the hall.

entering the lab, viktor turns on the lights, and then stops in his spot. there you were. your body slouched against the table with papers messily filled with calculations that viktor was doing the day prior, seemingly asleep. slowly, he approaches you and stands behind you, silently looking at you. the sun is shining against your face, and viktor comes to the realization that he never paid attention to how much he liked looking at you. you looked so peaceful like this, and he felt an odd sensation in his chest as he peered down at you.

suddenly, you start stirring around, slowly opening your eyes to see viktor standing above you. "mm? viktor?" you groggily mumble.

seeing you wake up, viktor, as fast as he can, takes a few steps back, his face turning red at possibly being caught. "s-sorry," he stutters.

your eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. did he just stutter? you rub your eyes with your hands before blinking a few times to look at him clearer. was he...staring at you while you were asleep? while this would be extremely creepy if it were anyone else, you couldn't help but feel somewhat flattered by his reaction. you take a look around and realize you're in the lab. "oh gosh, i can't believe i fell asleep in here," you drag your hands across your face. "i'm sorry, viktor. i was trying to finish what you were doing yesterday."

"it is alright," viktor says after taking a moment to calm his heartbeat from jumping out of his chest. he then realizes what you said, and his face contorts into confusion, looking at the papers on the table. "you didn't have to. i would have figured it out by this week i'm sure."

"i just wanted to help more," you admit with a short sigh. "ever since you and jayce started this new development for hextech...i feel like i've fallen behind." you look down at all the papers in front of you in shame that you still couldn't figure it out.

viktor's expression changes again, no longer confused but a soft look as he notices the tone in your voice change. you sound almost defeated, clearly upset about this. hesitantly, he places a hand on your shoulder, causing you to look up at him. "it is okay, yn," he starts, his tone soft like his expression on his face. "you being here is enough for me. you do not need to prove yourself, for i already know how smart you are. do not worry of hextech if you fear you are falling behind. i appreciate your presence more than anything else."

looking up at him, you slowly nod your head and stand from your seat. you don't know what to say, but thankfully for you, viktor continues speaking.

"i have noticed some...changes in my thoughts recently," he says slowly, as if he were choosing his words carefully. "while they are primarily filled with ideas of hextech and how we could evolve the future...they are also about you. i want to create something that will help our future, that will help your future. these past couple of weeks...i have thought of you more. i thought it was normal at first...but the more i thought about what i was thinking about i..came to a realization." he sees the way you look at him with subtle confusion on your face, and he hesitates before continuing. "i believe i may have some kind of feelings for you, yn."

your eyes widen in shock, looking at viktor as he explains his thoughts, and you're not sure what to do. "what?" you quietly let out.

"yes, it appears to be that way," viktor nods. "just now, i have confirmed it. i may not have noticed it fast enough, and i sincerely apologize if i am too late now, but i had to get this off my chest before it would ruin me."

"o-oh," you stutter, a fiery blush growing on your face. "you-you're not too late," you say finally. "i've uhm, had feelings for you for a while now," you admit.

hearing this, a smile makes its way onto viktor's face. "really?" he asks.

"yeah," you nod. "i thought you were never going to notice or were purposely ignoring my attempts."

"ah," he lets out. "i would never purposely ignore you, yn," he says, pushing some of your hair out of your face. "let's just say i am a bit slow when it comes to these things. i apologize if i ever gave you the wrong idea."

"it's okay," you reply.

"well then, shall we establish this whilst we finish these calculations?" he has a smile on his face as he speaks, dragging another chair to sit down beside you.

"yeah," you nod, smiling back at him.

"great."

[literaryvein-reblogs]

hello! not sure if you've already covered this, but what's the difference between a sociopath and psychopath? as well as a bit more information on the two.

Writing Notes: Sociopath & Psychopath

Sociopath and Psychopath - former names for an individual with antisocial personality disorder (ASPD)

Psychopathy

a synonym for ASPD

formerly: any psychological disorder or mental disease

Sociopathic behavior - dyssocial behavior (i.e., a former name for behavior associated with delinquent or criminal activities, such as gangsterism, racketeering, prostitution, or illegal gambling. It was attributed to distorted moral and social influences, frequently aggravated by a broken home or a deprived environment. Such behavior is now regarded as an aspect of ASPD.)

What’s the Difference Between a Psychopath & a Sociopath?

Psychopath and sociopath are often used interchangeably in common speech.

Although the terms are also used in the scientific literature, they are not well defined there; mental health professionals instead prefer to understand both psychopathy and sociopathy as types of antisocial personality disorders, each condition being distinguished by a few characteristic features but both having many features in common.

To put the matter simplistically, psychopaths are born, and sociopaths are made.

Among persons who display ASPD, those called psychopaths are distinguished by:

a nearly complete inability to form genuine emotional attachments to others;

a compensating tendency to form artificial and shallow relationships, which the psychopath cynically exploits or manipulates to benefit himself;

a corresponding ability to appear glib and even charming to others;

an ability in some psychopaths to maintain the appearance of a normal work and family life; and

a tendency to carefully plan criminal activities to avoid detection.

Sociopaths, in contrast, are generally:

capable of developing a close attachment to one or a few individuals or groups, though they too generally have severe difficulties in forming relationships.

incapable of anything even remotely resembling a normal work or family life, and, in comparison to psychopaths, they are exceptionally impulsive and erratic and more prone to rage or violent outbursts.

Accordingly, their criminal activities tend to be spur-of-the-moment rather than carefully premeditated.

In Children: Conduct Disorder

Psychologists and psychiatrists emphasize that ASPD cannot be properly diagnosed in children, because it is by definition a condition that abides for many years and because the personalities of children are constantly evolving.

Nevertheless, adults who develop ASPD typically displayed what is called conduct disorder as children, generally characterized by:

aggressive behavior toward people or animals,

destruction of property,

deceitfulness or theft, and

serious infractions of criminal laws or other norms.

Antisocial & Asocial

Antisocial - denoting or exhibiting behavior that sharply deviates from social norms and also violates other people’s rights. Arson and vandalism are examples of antisocial behavior.

Asocial - declining to engage, or incapable of engaging, in social interaction; or lacking sensitivity or regard for social values or norms. —asociality n.

Antisocial Personality Disorder

The presence of a chronic and pervasive disposition to disregard and violate the rights of others.

Manifestations include:

repeated violations of the law,

exploitation of others,

deceitfulness,

impulsivity,

aggressiveness,

reckless disregard for the safety of self and others, and

irresponsibility, accompanied by lack of guilt, remorse, and empathy.

The disorder has been known by various names, including dyssocial personality, psychopathic personality, and sociopathic personality.

It is among the most heavily researched of the personality disorders and the most difficult to treat.

It is included in DSM–IV–TR, DSM–5, and DSM-5-TR (i.e., "Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders", which is the handbook used by health care professionals in the United States and much of the world as the authoritative guide to the diagnosis of mental disorders, currently in its 5th edition, text revision).

Symptoms of Antisocial Personality Disorder

People with ASPD tend to have few symptoms. Rather, they cause discomfort or distress to others through socially unacceptable behavior and by being:

Deceitful

Impulsive

Aggressive or irritable

Reckless

Irresponsible

Remorseless

Expected duration of ASPD: All personality disorders are lifelong patterns.

Diagnosis of Antisocial Personality Disorder

The diagnosis is made on the basis of a person's history, usually by a mental health professional. There are no laboratory tests to assist in diagnosing this disorder. Other psychiatric disorders, such as a mood or anxiety disorder, attention deficit disorder, or substance abuse, may also be present.

In order to be diagnosed with ASPD, an individual must show a continuing pattern of disregard for and violation of the rights of others, occurring since age 15, with 3 (or more) of the following:

Failure to confirm to laws and social norms (repeatedly breaking laws).

Deceitfulness (repeated lying or conning others for personal profit or pleasure).

Impulsivity or failure to plan ahead.

Irritability and aggressiveness (repeated physical fights or assaults).

Reckless disregard for safety of self or others.

Consistent irresponsibility (repeated failure to sustain consistent work behavior or honor financial obligations).

Lack of remorse (being indifferent to having hurt, mistreated, or stolen from another).

In addition, the individual must be at least age 18 years and there must be evidence of conduct disorder before age 15.

There is no way to prevent this disorder.

It is conceivable that a general improvement in social conditions could reduce the incidence of antisocial personality disorder. An improvement in a person's social environment may reduce the severity of the problem, especially if changes are made early in life.

Research has yet to demonstrate an effective or practical way to accomplish these goals.

Many psychotherapy techniques have been proposed for treating antisocial personality disorder. Unfortunately, research does not indicate that any of the current treatments is particularly helpful for treating the personality disorder itself.

As a result, the choice of treatment is usually guided by a person's specific circumstances.

In younger people, family or group psychotherapy may help to change destructive patterns of behavior, teach new vocational and relationship skills, and reinforce a person's social support.

Psychotherapy also may help a person with this disorder learn to be more sensitive to the feelings of others and encourage new, socially acceptable and productive ways of thinking about one's goals and aims.

Cognitive therapy attempts to change sociopathic ways of thinking.

Behavior therapy uses reward and punishment to promote good behavior.

In some cases, symptoms can be treated with medication, although again there is no specific medication that is considered best for all people with this disorder. Selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors (SSRIs), such as fluoxetine (Prozac) and sertraline (Zoloft), may decrease aggressiveness and irritability. These drugs are useful if either anxiety or depression are present, or if the person is using substances to self-medicate for anxiety or low mood.

There are many questions about how helpful any of these interventions can be in an illness where, by definition, people who are affected do not recognize that they have a problem.

Treatment is more likely to be successful if it is started earlier in life. But it is difficult to change long-entrenched patterns of thinking and behavior.

Also, the longer a person lives with this personality style, the less he or she may be interested in taking responsibility for change. For some people, the tendency toward aggression and irritability decreases with age. But some personality characteristics may persist.

Often the only thing that can protect victims of antisocial behavior is the criminal justice system. In rare instances, corrections systems (jails and prisons) provide opportunities for treatment or rehabilitation, but often these environments, with their abundance of antisocial individuals, tend to promote antisocial behavior.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References

Hope this helps with your writing!

[soleminisanction]

So a while back I ran the numbers to confirm a suspicion that fandom trends towards a trans Tim Drake, and there's a lot of bits and pieces around his canon material that I think contributes to that interest. But there's a particular, subtle one that's been poking at my mind a lot because I think it might actually be a pretty significant factor that nobody really notices:

His costumes.

The original Robin costume, the one Dick and Jason wore, is childish but exposing. It's innocent enough when they're being drawn as spunky children, but during the period when Dick's still wearing it into his late teens and early 20s, it's practically as revealing as a lot of the women's costumes (and, in retrospect, almost certainly laid some of the groundwork for him sometimes being sexualized by the art and writing the way female characters normally are -- George Pérez, at least, absolutely put him on display every bit as much as he did Starfire and Donna).

Damian's costumes, meanwhile, lean more into archaic/fantasy armor designs and are thus largely genderless outside some vague allusions to the codename's Robin Hood roots. And Steph's is, well, a minidress, and one designed to show off her figure, drawing explicit attention to her femininity.

But then you have Tim's most iconic costume, his original one, which is not only fully covering in a way the original look isn't, it also, by virtue of being designed in the 90s, sports a very specific feature: molded body armor shaped to look like pectoral and abdominal muscles. In other words -- an idealized male body.

Not every artist always included that detail, but it was an explicit part of the design that you don't see as much these days, at least not for teen heroes. Which means it's inadvertently the perfect costume for a trans masculine Boy Wonder. It's got built-in body shaping. The cape and tunic layers even help to make his shoulders look wider.

Tim's second costume, the OYL later suit, doesn't explicitly have this body shaping element, but some artists still hint at it in the same way that Dick's Nightwing suits do (ie, we assume they're not showing off their real muscles with skintight suits for safety reasons, but who knows). Plus it comes with the bonus gay longing of changing the colors to mourn the dead crush he's too deep in the closet to recognize.

And then you've got his modern Robin look which has the same kind of shaping going on in a sleaker, more subtle way, though it can vary from artist to artist how much the red part of his suit is drawn as a breast plate vs. a part of the bodysuit.

As a bonus, the design also has a tendency to make him look lean and lithe, in an interesting contrast to Damian who, despite being physically smaller than Tim, tends to have a presence that makes him come across as stockier and more solid, possibly because he's more heavily armored.

You even see this with some of Tim'snon-Robin looks. I've mentioned this elsewhere but, the original Red Robin look making him look older when the cowl was up honestly makes a lot of sense. That suit was originally designed for a Dick Grayson who was pushing 60 to conceal the extent of his age while still communicating his maturity and development. It makes sense that it'd work the other way, to make 17 year old Tim look like he's in his late 20s/early 30s.

It's tunic over a body suit design is also just aesthetically pleasing in terms of forming an elegant male body type, the same way a well-cut suit can be. Again, it does especially nice things for the shoulders, which is why I personally prefer it to the fully bodysuit redesign they give him in the latter part of the series. Although as we can see from the details in Marcus To's art, even that body suit has seams strategically placed to suggest muscles.

And then of course there's the 2016 Rebirth era Red Robin costume, which is just a more heavily-armored version of his classic Robin look that's trying really hard to make him look masculine and mature, which means... exaggerated muscles.

And the thing is, it's not that this doesn't happen with other characters' costumes. But for various reasons it specifically didn't happen with the other Robin costumes, like I described at the start.

Which is not something I think people consciously notice. But I do know that, when I was writing my transmasc Tim fanfic a few years before realizing that I myself was also transmasc, one of the images that solidified the story for me was how good it would've felt the first time a transmasc Tim put on his new Robin costume and saw the Boy Wonder looking back at him. And I remember specifically thinking about how nice the shaped armor would be for that sort of thing.

It's kinda funny how an obvious attempt to enforce gender norms wound up, for lack of a better term, backfiring, at least in my opinion. There's just something about exaggerating the masculinity of Robin, a role designed to contrast and foil the already exaggerated masculine ideal of Batman, that makes it feel like a performance.

[stvrgxsm]

long nights, soft days | joel miller [1.2k]

joel comforts reader while she is on her period.

c: references to blood, periods.

beams of late-afternoon sunshine flowed in from the window, bathing the room in a buttery glow.

it wasn’t often that you allowed yourself to sleep in so much, but then again, last night had been… a lot. joel could get insatiable sometimes, and there were usually little to no warning signs. when he did get like that, you slept for far longer than normal.

but this time, when you tried to roll over, all you felt was warmth pooling between your legs. familiar and sticky, you instantly knew what was going on.

unfortunately, the end of the world didn’t mean the end of periods.

you clamped your legs shut and willed yourself to not feel the twinges of pain, both in your core and legs. one was biology. the other was joel.

speaking of joel… the room was empty, but judging by the angle of the sun, he should have been home already. you stilled and listened for a moment. sure enough, pots and pans clanging in the kitchen downstairs alerted you to his presence. 

a dull ache settled over your stomach, and you squeezed your eyes shut, groaning in pain. it didn’t even occur to you that ellie could still be home, or that she would hear you.

so when she burst into the room, you sat up in shock, your muscles cramping again. “woah. lady troubles?” she asked, hands up in a placating gesture.

“no– i mean, yes. can you just– can you help me to the bathroom?”

“yeah, of course. hold on, let me–” she ducked out of the bedroom, and a moment later, you heard her yell, “joel! she’s awake! can you bring up some pain meds?” then she was back, her arm looped under yours and wrapped around your back, supporting most of your weight. the two of you made an odd pair, hobbling to the bathroom.

your period had always been particularly bad. maybe if there were no infected, you would try to seek a diagnosis, but as it was, it hardly seemed important. there were more pressing issues to deal with. 

like your family. you’d been with joel and ellie for a good six months, and nothing felt better than being known by them. ellie had started bringing you the shiny bits of glass she encountered on her outings in jackson, and joel…

well, joel was your partner. in more ways than one. he supported you, he cared about you, and he bandaged your wounds. and he fucked you stupid with increasing frequency, but that’s beside the point. 

you took a seat on the lip of the bathtub and watched ellie gather some things she thought you might need. “do you prefer pads or tampons?”

“either. whatever. which do you have less of?”

she looked at you appraisingly. “i’ll just put both in here.”

“what are you making?”

“it’s a basket of period supply stuff. for you to keep next to you in bed.”

“oh. thank you, that’s– that’s really sweet of you.”

“yeah, of course.” she had to jump to reach the next item– chocolate from the top shelf. “i know how hard these are for you.”

before you could respond, joel had shouldered his way into the master bathroom. his eyes skipped over ellie completely and landed on you. his brow furrowed. “y’okay, hon?”

“she’s on her period.”

“ellie!” he scolded, the southern twang especially obvious in his distress.

“what? it’s true!”

a brief smile flashed across your face, but it was dimmed by another layer of pain settling on top of the first. joel noticed; he always did. 

“c’mon, honey. let’s get you to bed.” he reached for you with both arms, and you thought for a moment he was going to help you walk, like ellie had. but suddenly he was holding you against his chest, your arms wrapped around his neck.

“joel!”

ellie laughed from somewhere behind you.

“what?” he asked innocently.  

then he was laying you down on your bed gently, wincing with you at the change in position. “it’s okay, sweet thing, i’m so sorry.”

“do you have those pain meds?”

his eyes brightened with the reminder, and one of his hands went into his pocket to retrieve a small bottle of white pills. “ibuprofen,” he said, placing two of them into your open palm. 

“thank you.”

“of course.” he looked over the room for a moment, then back at you and the bed. “where’s your water?”

“i don’t– i don’t have any.”

you shrunk into the bed under his withering gaze. “baby. what did i tell you?”

“i have to take care of myself?”

“yes.” he heaved a long-suffering sigh, and you smiled up at him. “i’ll get you a glass. don’t dry-swallow those.”

you nodded, cradling them in your open palms reverently. he disappeared out the door, but you could still hear his footsteps on the stairs and in the kitchen. he had heavy footfalls; part of you thought you would be able to hear him even if he was outside. 

ellie brought the basket into your room. “okay, this has everything you might need. pads, tampons, a menstrual cup, chocolate, my heating pad, the works.” she rolled her eyes. “obviously joel keeps the pain-killers under lock and key. he’s so paranoid.” 

you shared a smile with her, and then she nodded sharply. “okay, i’m leaving. going to make dinner with tommy and maria. i won’t be back until later. will you guys be okay?”

“you know we’re supposed to be the parents here, right?”

but she was already out the door. “whatever,” she called behind her, laughing.

you weren’t alone for long. joel’s footsteps came up the stairs and into your room, and he carried with him a glass of water and a bowl. he set both down on your nightstand. “i made soup for you,” he explained.

“just now?” a smile played on your lips, pulling an eye-roll from him.

“no, silly girl, i was cooking this whole afternoon. while you were sleeping.”

“well, you did keep me up late.”

his brow furrowed. “is that why you’re feeling so bad? i mean i know you’re on your period, but is it made worse by that? i’m so sorry, sweet girl, let me make it up to you.”

he was already kneeling at the edge of the bed before you could even get a word out. “no, no, no, joel, it has nothing to do with that!! really. nothing at all.”

he eyed you warily. 

“i promise! it’s totally unrelated! please, just– can you just–”

“yes, sweet girl?”

fuck. “can you please just lay down with me?” it was almost embarrassing asking joel for anything soft. you knew he wasn’t a particularly gentle man. you were surprised he was even doing this for you.

his entire face softened. “oh, honey.” and then his shoes were off and he was under the covers, curled around you. he tucked his chin into your neck and inhaled deeply. 

you giggled. “what are you doing?”

he was quiet for a moment. “just thinking about you.” his hands came up to your stomach and began rubbing soft circles into the flesh there.

“what about me?”

he didn’t answer, and when you shifted in his arms to look back, his eyes were closed. but his grip tightened, and you allowed him to pull you closer, into his warmth. another smile danced along your lips. 

who needs a heating pad when you have joel miller?

[beta-lactam-allergic]

I am an Australian goy who reblogs about leftist antisemitism for similar reasons. To me, rightwing antisemitism may as well be background noise because I already fundamentally disagree with them on so many other things. Even just existing is a problem for them as I'm a transwoman, I'm bisexual & I'm an Aboriginal person who's in favour of self-determination, let alone my other views. I have had murder attempts on me for just existing & knew it wasn't worth reporting to gunjis who are more sympathetic to my would-be killers than to me. I expect the rightwing to be fucking scum. To me, that's normal.

I post & repost on leftist antisemitism because it feels like a betrayal. They claimed to care about native rights, unless those natives are Jews in the lands of the ancient Kingdoms of Yehuda, Yisrael & the Hasmonean dynasty. They claimed to care about women's rights, but ditched that to stan Hamas rapists. They claimed to be anti-slavery, until some slavers (the Houthis) started launching missiles at Israel. They claimed to care about LGBT rights, but now support boycotts on the most-LGBT friendly nation in the Middle East to support Hamas, who want us all dead for not being cishet.

Over & over again, these "leftists" abandoned everything they claimed to believe in to engage in Judenhass. My values didn't change. I just learnt these people have none. That's why I talk about leftist antisemitism more than rightwing antisemitism. Leftist antisemitism feels like a betrayal even to my goyische eyes & ears. Rightwing antisemitism is just consistent with the rest of their douchebaggery.

Yeah, I commend non-Jewish right-wingers who aren't antisemitic for landing on their stopped clock moment at the exact moment it's needed. That doesn't change the fact that on most things, we don't align. Yeah, we agree on Israel. The ones who aren't sucking up to Putin might also agree with me on Ukraine & Taiwan (yeah, I will give Dutton credit there). That doesn't change our fundamental disagreements on global warming, taxation, renewables, nuclear plants, public ownership of utilities, etc, etc, etc. I think the social media ban that both the LNP & ALP backed & managed to pass is moronic. I want all fossil fuel extraction globally to end immediately. I want gender confirmation surgeries to be fully covered by public healthcare so that in the future, transpeople don't have to burn through their life savings like I did. I want public healthcare to improve to the point that private healthcare is obsolete. I believe that if you own more than 3 homes (one for yourself, one for your spouse in case of divorce & one summer home), you should be forced to sell the others until you are down to three. I believe internet should be a publicly provided right, not something you pay telcos to use. All apartment complexes should be either government housing or non-profit co-ops. I believe a minimum wage that can't cover food, water, transport, clothing, rates & as long as they exist, rent/electricity bills/internet bills is insufficient & that the minimum wage should be a living wage. Agreement on Israel's right to defend itself doesn't change how many cishet-normative right-wingers (more men than women, even if TERF women are particularly loud) hate me for daring to exist as myself.

Yeah, I modified my 2024 voting behaviour by putting ALP ahead of the Greens for the first time in a decade (there wasn't an election in 2023) & by putting the Greens below both AJP (1st preference) & Legalise Cannabis (my opinion of marijuana is simple, if you are a legal adult, I support your right to do whatever you want to your body. I just don't want to be in your general vicinity when you are doing it). The problem for right-wingers who think my pro-Israel stances make me "recruitable" is at the end of the day, the LNP, KAP & One Nation are direct threats to myself, my family & many of my friends. No matter how angry I get at the Greens for chasing the Hamasnik vote, I'm not going to shoot myself in the foot by voting for the LNP.

It's always so fucking jolting when you discover that someone thinks that the reason you post about leftist antisemitism is that you're right wing like them. Like no, my dude, I am a leftist Jew. That's how I know about this shit so intimately.

[rottiens]

red in his cheeks, green in his eyes┊i. rin

✮ tags. . (18+), fluff (sfw), not established relationship, all characters are adults. no use of pronouns but afab!reader in mind, reader wears a dress and earrings.

✮ summary. . you always enjoy making your soon-to-be boyfriend blush; it's so simple that it's become a habit.

✮ wc. . 1k

✮ notes. . i want to make him blush and make him so uncomfortable that he doesn't know what to do with himself, my bad lskd | divider creds: cafekitsune.

Rin Itoshi is many things.

Some people may point out how good a soccer player he is, others will comment that he is cold and unfriendly. If you ask him himself he will tell you that he is (probably) resentful and vengeful.

However to you, while many of these things are true (especially the part about him being cold), you will highlight how good of a listener he is, especially since he prefers to stay quiet while listening to you direct the conversation where you want it to go and how you want it to go, providing occasional monosyllables or some vibration that comes from his throat rather than his chest. He will make contributions to the conversation about his personal life or his day exclusively if you ask directly about it.

Although the last few weeks, he has been a bit more talkative than usual (that is, complete sentences without you having to ask him about his day first).

Rin is someone sweet, at least in his own way. His good listening makes him surprise you with details you're not expecting, like remembering important dates or little details of what you told in a babbling outburst that you barely remember now and you like him, you genuinely do. You're able to see through him, really see what's hidden in his chest behind those layers of hatred and rancor that hide pain and Rin hates it.

Among the long list of things he hates, is your way of being able to read him so easily. Recognizing why there are wrinkles on his forehead, his wrinkled nose or pursed lips. He dislikes how gentle you are when you approach him, you treat him with the same gentleness in which a butterfly would sit on a flower and that settles his stomach, tightens his gut and makes him feel sick; to the point where he claims he has a fever, it's not normal the way his whole body suddenly starts to burn, his forehead and ears, his neck and chest tight, along with sweaty palms.

He dislikes how nice you are to others when most don't deserve it and also how pretty you look when you wear those summer dresses because they make others look, when no one else should be able to admire how beautiful you are.

There are many things Rin detests about himself, his brother and certain parts of your personality, but never you, or your presence in his room late at night or your high, excited laughter that comes straight from your stomach. He could never hate you, not when you look at him like you do now, with dilated pupils and eyes full of genuine concern. He didn't remember what it was like to be treated like that, not at least not since he was a child.

“You didn't have to come see me.” Rin says it more out of concern —you are sick, after all— but he tries to sound nonchalant, ignoring the incessant drumming of his heart. His crossed arms rest against his chest as he leans his body weight against the wall.

“Of course I had to, it's your last game, I had to come give you your good luck gift,” you say, a smile etched into your words and with a voice heavy with a cold, you almost sound like you just woke up.

It's halftime, and Rin has slipped out of the locker room so he can see you in the semi-dark hallway. Even in the poor lighting, the earrings he gave you for your birthday sparkle with excitement, a nice touch that goes so well with your impish smile and the outfit you've chosen for him.

“Gift?” His greenish eyes go to yours after scanning (he hopes slyly) your figure.

“Hm.” You purr as you lean in a little closer, invading his personal space. You take his arm, freeing it from the shield that covered his ribs, to intertwine your fingers with his. That simple contact is enough for the dizziness and numbness to take hold of him again.

His fingers tighten under the heat of your touch. And when you lean in for a quick kiss, his whole body stiffens, his eyes open wider, unlike yours. You're so close he can feel your chest press against his, as your perfume envelops him with a familiar warmth. Your lips linger together for an instant, not deepening the kiss that seems to be the promise of something more.

You've been dating for a few weeks, though calling it “dating” is debatable. You're still in that unlabeled limbo where you're two friends holding hands, shopping together, going to the movies, and occasionally sharing a kiss. Sometimes you'd like to know what Rin is thinking….

“If you win you'll have more of these,” as you pull away from him you lick your bottom lip, still tasting him in your mouth.

…Especially at times like these, where his cheeks are so red from a simple touch, where he knows how to hide his nervousness so well and yet his face always gives it away.

His eyes drift to the end of the hallway, to where the light of the stadium devours the shadows. From there, the bustle of the stands comes muffled, almost drowned out by the buzz of adrenaline coursing through your body.

Rin pulls away, pushing aside the fingers you had grabbed and allowing them to return to their usual space, on his chest. Then he heads toward the locker room, perhaps to wipe off his sweat and get some water before returning to the field. Before disappearing completely, he stops to look at you. Your hands hang clasped together, and your smile —that smile that warms his body— seems to light up as if all the lights are on you.

“Watch me score the next goal for you.” Your smile widens, revealing your pearly teeth, and Rin wants to die right there. The next words he tries to say get stuck in his throat a couple of times, as if an invisible hand is squeezing his neck.

“You look beautiful,” he says, with a heated face. “But I'm still pissed that you're here while you're still sick.” And maybe, just maybe, those are the most romantic words you've heard from him in weeks.

You know how hard it is for Rin to open up and express how he feels. Even so, you're willing to wait for him until he's ready to admit what you both already know. In the meantime, you'll continue to relish every opportunity to make him blush or feel uncomfortable in the sweetest way possible.

[foreverromanticising]

something, somehow, someday

1.9k words of idiots in love

lando norris x f!reader

(this is kind of rllly bad bc i need to get back into fanfic writing - im a veteran but its been a while! requests open pls send whatever!)

Friday nights always followed the same routine for Lando, he was playing chaueffer. Well, the Friday nights he had off from being Lando Norris Formula 1 Driver. More often than not, he found himself driving around Monaco, playing pick up from different bars with his girl and her friends. 

Calling her ‘his girl’ was loosely strung, she wasn’t his girlfriend by any means, but simply calling her a friend seemed unjust. It didn’t pay any justice to their connection; best friends also seemed far too juvenile for they never knew each other in their childhood years, when the term best friend perhaps would’ve suited them. 

No, they met much later in their lives, Lando’s second or third season in Formula 1, and she just happened to know a friend of a friend, which ended in the two at the same party at the same time. Typical and cliche, they knew it, but they both preferred having an organic story to tell of their meeting rather than having to admit their connection was found on some online algorithm. 

However, it wasn’t that many people asked for their meeting story as they were just friends, plain and simple - asking two friends how they met didn’t hold the same importance as it did for asking a couple. 

Yes, they were friends, if their relationship had to be labelled but in a sweet and sticky sense of friendship. They weren’t friends in the way Max and Lando were friends; a relationship consisting of streaming, gaming, and very platonic activities that would be expected of two friends. Their friendship was abnormal to outsiders but it made perfect sense for them, and why should they listen to anyone else’s opinions?

Lando never found himself waking up with any of his other friends head’s on his bare chest, but with his girl it made perfect sense. The Monaco sun peering through the windows, illuminating highlights within her hair against his tan chest, his arm tightly wound around her waist, and both of their bodies pressed into one side of the bed, despite its huge size. 

This was their normal; they had drawn an invisible line between their friendship and something more, they never dared to cross it but the line definitely grew to become blurrier as time went on.

Hence why, Lando continually found himself in a parked car outside of whatever bar or club she chose to spend her Friday night. He claims he would do this for any friend that would ask him to, he cared about how his friends would make it home, but she had never once asked to be picked up, rather he always offered.

On the outside, Lando made it clear he cared about her making it home safely, there was no reason for her to pay for a taxi when he was happy and available to take her home - a firm believer his driving was far safer than any taxi driver. But, there was a miniscule part inside his beating heart that knew it was more than just her safety. He liked picking her up because it meant she would go home with him.

Him and no one else.

“You’re sure your friends don’t need a lift too?” Lando waited to pull away from the bar until he had a definite answer; just because he was picking up his girl didn’t mean he was going to leave her friends stranded - his offers always extended to whoever she was out with. “You know I’d rather take them than a taxi.”

“I know, Lan, but Alex’s boyfriend’s on his way anyway,” Your lifted your head off of his car window to look over at Lando, sincerity laced within your words. “They’re all gonna stay at her place, it’s just easier.”

“Do you want me to drop you at Alex’s?” He hadn’t known the night out was extending into a girls night, feeling almost guilty for wanting you in his bed, his arms, rather than with your own friends. “You wanna spend the night there?”

“No,’ You let the word drag out, trying to bite back the grin that was threatening to spill over your lips. Unbeknownst to Lando, you wanted to end the night in his arms just as much as he did. “I’m tired and I think I’m done socialising for tonight.”

“Oh, okay. Just back to yours, then?” He had to actively keep his face from allowing a frown to take over after hearing your wish to no longer socialise, he had only assumed this Friday night would be the same as all the others but it appeared you had other plans.

“I mean, it’s kinda out of the way now, isn’t it?” You looked at the street whipping by you, trying to feign nonchalance over the thought of heading back to Lando’s. “Your place is probably easier.”

“Thought you didn’t want to socialise with anyone else tonight.” Lando was also trying to act nonchalant, like he didn’t care, like he hadn’t thought about this Friday night tradition ever since you had woken up in his arms last Saturday morning.

“Yeah but you don’t count.” A smile tugged at your lips as your social battery for others may have been used up, you didn’t think it could ever run out when it came to Lando. You didn’t have to play pretend, or use up much energy around him, if anything he rechargred your batteries. A night with him was exactly what you needed.

He knew exactly what you meant. You two didn’t have to even speak when you were around each other. Comfortable silence was enough to maintain your friendship.

Once Lando had parked his car, you made your way to his apartment, in that comfortable silence you had been craving. This silence followed both of you in the elevator, as he unlocked his front door, as you made your way to your respective drawer in his bedroom to find something to wear to bed, until he found you brushing your teeth and chose to join you. 

It was an image of domesticity; an old quadrant shirt of his draped over your body paired alongside a pair of his basketball shorts, your skincare lining his bathroom counter, your bodies pressed against one another - shoulder to shoulder, just as your pink and blue toothbrushes stood in their holder beside the sink. 

“What’s your plans for tomorrow?” Lando spoke through a mouthful of toothpaste, as thought his question couldn’t wait the two minutes. You poked your elbow into his ribs to shut him up until you had finished brushing your teeth.

“Not sure yet, the girls wanna go for brunch but nothing’s set in stone yet,” You looked at him through his bathroom mirror. “Why? What’re you scheming?”

“Just wondering,” He shrugged his shoulders then turned on his heel, making his way to his bedroom - prompting you to follow him. “Wondering if you wanna come play padel with me and Max tomorrow morning.” 

You watched as he peeled back the covers on his bed, placing an extra pillow onto your unassigned side of the bed because he knew you liked more pillows tha he did. “I think I’ll pass, that sounds sort of hellish to me.” Athletics had never been your thing, never one to actively participate in games, and whilst you loved Max you thought it was best to leave him and Lando their own time without you imposing - though, Lando would insist you could never impose.

“Yeah, that’s alright. Probably good to see him before the double header kicks in,” Lando climbed into his bed, arms open for you to crawl into as he was wasted no time in wanting to hold you close. “You’re still coming to Belguim, yeah?” Hints of uncertainty could be found within his voice, though he tried to hide it, he couldn’t help it. He wanted you there, cheering him on from the sidelines, because he wasn’t sure he could get through the next few races without that light at the end of the tunnel.

“Yeah ‘course.” You didn’t have to give it a second thought; you had already decided after a phone call with his mother, but it must’ve slipped your mind to tell Lando himself. You were more focused on making yourself comfortable against his body, your head taking its him on his chest as his fingertips danced along the sliver of skin that was shown from the way your legs tangled with his under the covers.

Night soond turned into morning, Lando’s alarm blaring through his phone, making him regret any decision to play padel as he felt your body intertwined with his. He had to fight every urge to cancel his plans for the day and instead keep you in his bed, wrapped up in his clothes and his arms and his bedsheets. Would it be too much to ask you to spend another night within seconds of his eyes opening? Perhaps, but he couldn’t bear the thought of spending his nights alone for the next two weeks. 

He had two separate hotel rooms booked for Belgium but he knew that, inevitably, either one of you would cave and pad your away across the hotel to the other hotel room, desperate for the comfort of laying beside one another.

Instead of dwelling on such thoughts, he forced himself to get up for the day, leaving you to rest in his bed whilst he headed out to padel. Not before sending you a quick text to wake up to:

Lan<3

Hey, just headed to padel with Max

I’ll be two hours at most and 

I’ll come home with breakfast

Stay put pretty girl

“Who are you texting?” Max asked as Lando climbed into his car, trying to peer over to see his phone screen but remaining unsuccessful as it was pulled out of his vision.

“No one, you nosey bastard.” Lando turned his phone off, begrudgingly so, and put it into his pocket.

“I know it’s her, don’t play daft,” Max knew everything about Lando and his girl, even if they were too blind to see it. “I know she’s in your bed right now, and I know you’re late ‘cause of it.”

Max knew they were meant to be, even if they didn’t, he knew it - they were taking their time in getting there, in realising that was even a possibility for the two of them. Something pulled them together, somehow they would realise it, and someday they would end up together.

Even if Lando claimed his career was too much for her to handle, only allowing himself short flings with girls that didn’t matter to him, instead of a fulfilling relationship - Max knew she would be able to handle the ins and outs of Lando’s world; she knew how to ground him after a win when his ego allowed him to feel like he was on top of the world, but she also knew how to calm him down when he came to her door upset after a race.

Max didn’t buy into her claims that Lando wouldn’t be with her because their worlds were too different, he knew that was what he wanted. He didn’t want someone who stuck around for his titles and fame, he wanted a welcome sign and a plane ride home.

But Max would never intrude on fate, he was letting them be. They were meant to be, he knew it as well as everyone around them, but he was letting fate run its course for the result would be far more fulfilling than if he meddled with the two sides of the same story he was continually being told. 

[doberbutts]

Coming from the other side of things (someone who did not like giving oral or kissing with tongue but is very demonstratably gay considering the amount of anal sex I've had with mlm)

It's interesting to see that this is what queer infighting has turned into while I have TERFs sexually harassing me for years about how gay men only like me because I, and I quote, "suck cock for free". Nevermind that A: isn't sex in a typical romantic relationship usually free and B: I didn't like oral sex until 2 years ago when T gave my sex drive a major boost and changed some of my preferences. They'd be all over my notes calling me a cocksucker and making references to choking on it etc and every time I'd be baffled because I... wasn't doing that.

Also the inherent homophobia of calling someone who engages in gay sex with other men a "cocksucker" is not lost on me.

I also didn't like kissing with tongue until a clearly negotiated scenario with a partner where he asked if he could try something and I found out very quickly that my problem with open mouth kissing was mostly a question of oral hygiene and technique, and someone who regularly brushes their teeth and also doesn't magically transform their mouth into a vacuum cleaner when kissing is actually quite pleasant to kiss this way. So sometimes it's just a matter of negative or unpleasant past experiences, or dysphoria, or comphet, or whatever causing a sexual boundary to exist.

Similar to the ass eating post, I don't really understand this prevalence within the queer community to shame each other over quite frankly normal sexual boundaries and desires. The attempt to shame people for not performing oral sex as mentioned in OP, or my experiences of TERFs trying to shame me for doing so, is just odd. There's more to sex than mouths and what body parts we can stick inside them.

I'm really tired of the trend of using one's desire (or lack of) to put their mouth anywhere as a measure of sexual orientation.

Some people don't do oral or open mouth kissing, and it doesn't mean they're incapable of attraction. It has no correlation with attraction at all. You can love someone and want to have sex with them without it including any oral activities on either side.

Y'all are fucking obsessed with trying to performatively out-queer each other, and it only hurts the whole community in the end.

Bonus unsurprising aphobia

Do better.

[solalunar-eclipse]

No-Way Mirror

Inspired by this fantastic comic and a conversation I had with the talented @sharpedgedfool.

TW: blood, minor punctures, brief mention of the sensation of blood being drawn (and of course blood drinking)

Also available to read on AO3!

(This was mostly written before my hiatus began, I just wanted to finish editing it in a semi-reasonable timeframe, ahaha.)

...

Shadow continued to smile wryly after his admission, allowing himself a faint laugh. “The best part is,” he continued, “I can’t even begin to imagine how a vampire would go unnoticed for any length of time. Their teeth are massive, surely anyone bitten by them would scream and get them caught almost immediately?”

What Sonic said next came as a bit of a surprise. “I could show you, if you want.”

Shadow glanced over in confusion, finding that same self-confident smirk still on Sonic’s face. “What?”

“I can show you what a vampire’s bite actually feels like.” he explained, throwing in a cheeky wink for good measure.

Ah. That made more sense. Shadow rolled his eyes. Sonic was probably trying to goad him into a fight of some sort or another—or perhaps even being flirtatious. He did tend to match Rouge’s energy at times, though this was the first instance Shadow had noticed where he had done so without the bat being directly present.

Well, he had been at the party for a while anyway, and he was tired enough of socializing that he was willing to humor Sonic, for his own entertainment if nothing else.

He pushed off the wall, shrugging. “Sure. Why not?”

The blue hedgehog’s eyes widened, and Shadow took a bit of pride in having thrown off his companion. “Really? I mean, heck yeah, man!” Sonic grinned, leading him towards the back of the house. This wasn’t his place, it was Amy’s, meaning both that Sonic probably knew it almost as well as his own and that Shadow was distinctly less willing to tear it up than he might have been if it were Sonic’s home.

Once they’d made their way down the hall and into a side room, Shadow raised a skeptical eyebrow at Sonic. “So, what’s this ‘vampire bite’ supposed to feel like, exactly?”

Instead of replying, Sonic took a deep breath, steadying himself—

—and then lunged.

Shadow was practically thrown backwards, only catching himself half upright on the desk that happened to be by the window. A sharp, pinching pain radiated from his neck, but it soon settled down into a duller yet persistent ache.

Had that moron actually gone and bitten him as a joke?!

For a fraction of a second, Shadow was prepared to tear into Sonic, both verbally and also physically if necessary, but then he noticed something else that left his limbs feeling oddly as if they’d been filled with lead.

The teeth currently buried in his neck were…very sharp. And, now that he was thinking about it, very long, especially for a hedgehog that hadn’t been genetically modified like him. Shadow had gotten his blood drawn enough times in his life to know what the sensation of blood leaving his body felt like, and he could also feel that in his veins.

Okay. New assessment of the situation. Sonic was, quite possibly, an actual vampire. Which meant that vampires were real. And Sonic was currently drinking his blood.

Shadow wasn’t really sure what to make of all this. He didn’t exactly want to try and rip two vampire fangs out of his neck—while he would heal fast enough that his health wouldn’t be a concern, it would hurt a hell of a lot worse than it currently did.

Thankfully, before he could think much farther than that, Sonic seemed to rouse himself slightly. He shifted a little, exhaled against Shadow’s neck (and wasn’t that a whole host of other things the hybrid would prefer to never unpack), and then slowly retracted his teeth.

Almost nervously, Sonic took a few steps backwards, his lips stained a green that would normally have been only a shade or two lighter than his eyes. Right now, though, his irises burned as crimson as Shadow’s. That was a little odd considering he hadn’t just consumed red blood, but Shadow had already been made quite pointedly aware that his knowledge about vampires was severely lacking.

“Um.” Sonic said, the picture of eloquence as always. “…I kinda expected you to throw me through a window by now.”

Shadow blinked. “Why?”

“I dunno, maybe ‘cause I just bit ya and drank your blood for a solid ten seconds?” Sonic shot back, but his raised quills made the comment seem less like a quip and more like an accusation. Accusing who, the hybrid hedgehog wasn’t sure.

“Honestly, I…just can’t find it in myself to be all that bothered,” Shadow said, still feeling a bit distant and bewildered.

Sonic frowned, stepping forward again to look more closely at Shadow. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t take enough for you to be dealing with blood loss, but you seem kinda out of it.”

Shadow looked away, paying a little more attention to how he was feeling for a moment. “I think I’m just overwhelmed.” he explained softly. “I was already beginning to feel a bit strained from the party, and this is…not bad, necessarily, just a lot to process on top of all that.”

“I didn’t mean to do that.” Sonic looked uncomfortable and guilty, and Shadow didn’t particularly enjoy seeing him that way.

“Here,” he offered, “why don’t you walk me home? That way I have more time to ask you some questions in a place that isn’t keeping either of us cooped up.” A place that isn’t keeping you from stretching your legs, Shadow didn’t say, but heavily implied.

A soft half-smile, so unlike his usual cocky smirks, spread across Sonic’s face. “That sounds great, honestly.”

The two of them left through the back door, each texting their friends to let them know that they were leaving early. Despite the fact that Sonic had a lot more people to message, he finished at about the same time as Shadow, given that he was rather less concerned about any minor spelling errors and tended to type much more quickly.

They walked in silence together for a little while, Shadow gratefully taking the time to process what had happened.

So, Sonic’s a vampire. What now?

…well, do I really even have to do anything? Sure, he drinks blood, but he has far too strict of a moral code to actually hurt anyone permanently. And he’s been a vampire this entire time, long before I knew, and there haven’t been any problems, so…I suppose this doesn’t really change much at all.

It seemed the silence was too good to last, though, because Sonic spoke up. “Hey, uh…sorry. About drinkin’ your blood a little, back there. I really figured you’d, like, punch me in the face or Chaos Blast me off or something.”

Shadow blinked, drawn suddenly out of his thoughts, and accidentally said the first thing that came to mind. “I honestly forgot I could do that.”

Sonic let out a laugh that was half genuine, half disbelieving. “You forgot? How’d you forget about the thing that literally only you can do?”

“I just did.” Shadow insisted, only barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes at his companion. “And if you’re so sorry about it, then why didn’t you pull off as soon as you realized I wasn’t reacting?”

“I didn’t think I’d even get that far, really.” Sonic shrugged, and Shadow shot him a half-hearted glare.

“It wasn’t a date, Sonic, it was you biting my neck.” he retorted flatly.

The blue hero laughed again, this time a proper unrestrained cackle. “Aw, what, should I take you out to dinner next time first?”

Shadow nearly stopped walking, only just catching himself. “Maybe I ought to bite you ‘next time’, we’ll see how you like it.”

“Aw, c’mon, you wouldn’t bite lil’ old me, would you?” Sonic batted his eyelashes innocently, his fanged grin completely undercutting the image he was trying to portray.

Shadow had a feeling that Sonic was hoping to goad him into insisting that he would, so instead he tried a different tack, looking to throw the other off. “I suppose you’re right, given that I’m a vegetarian.” he said, adding a pointed, “unlike somebody currently present.”

Sonic abruptly started pouting, an expression Shadow didn’t often see on his face. “Hey, normally I’d just snag a few blood bags from the hospital! That’s at least better, right?”

“You what.” This time Shadow actually did stop walking.

The sharp tone of his voice alone had Sonic freezing mid-stride as well. “I mean, it—it’s not really that many! And I only take the ones that’re gonna expire, I swear!” He held his hands up defensively.

The hybrid let out a sigh. “Still, people might need those. Frankly, I’d rather have you bite me again than keep on raiding hospitals.”

Sonic’s uncharacteristic silence made Shadow hesitate. He looked at the vampire properly, only to see him wearing an expression that looked a little like someone had just smacked him with a live fish.

“You’d let me feed from you? Like, for real?” he asked, blinking and shaking his head as if to make sure he hadn’t just imagined Shadow’s words.

“I would.” Shadow insisted. “I can regenerate blood much more quickly than most people, so you might even be able to take more than you could from a hospital’s blood stores. It’s a win-win. You get a meal without the theft and uncertainty, and I get to know that you’re not stealing from hospitals anymore.”

Sonic stared at him in disbelief for a moment longer, before smiling more genuinely than he had throughout the entire rest of the night. “I’d—I’d honestly really appreciate that.” he said, rocking back on his heels.

Shadow nodded in agreement. “I’ll send you a message at some point to schedule a time, then, unless you get hungry soon. If so, you can text me—but don’t pretend to be hungry when you’re not!” he added quickly. “I’ll be able to figure it out if you do.”

“Cross my heart, I won’t!” Sonic said, doing the associated motion for bonus effect and adding a wink at the end. Clearly religious symbols (at least from human traditions) weren’t as good at dispelling vampires as they were made out to be.

“You’d better not.” Shadow scoffed lightly. “Now then, where—” he continued, looking around for a street sign, only to realize— “oh. This is my street.”

The vampire frowned unhappily. “Aw man, already?”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be seeing me again before long.”

It was almost comical how quickly Sonic perked up. “Hey, good point! I’ll be seein’ ya ‘round soon, Shads!”

He dashed off before Shadow could even begin the sentence “Don’t call me that,” which was heard only by the empty space around him.

Shadow let out a tired sigh, and walked the last few meters to the front door of the building where Rouge’s apartment was. The receptionist at the front desk gave him a slightly odd look, but he paid them no mind as he stepped into the elevator, allowing himself to lean against the back wall only once the doors were closed.

He shut his eyes and exhaled. He didn’t regret making that offer, not one bit, but if every subsequent vampire encounter was going to be as draining (pun not intended) as this one had been, he might need to schedule them even more carefully than he’d originally thought.

Once the elevator arrived at the correct floor, he shuffled over to the apartment door and unlocked it with practiced ease, stepping inside and instantly beginning to shed his costume. It was only once he’d removed his cape that he caught sight of himself in the mirror and did a double-take.

There was an acid-green stain on the right shoulder of his shirt, marring the pristine white material. Shadow stepped closer to the mirror and took a closer look. Indeed, there were two puncture holes in the shirt’s neck on that side, showing exactly what had caused the stain.

Sonic had probably gotten saliva on his nice shirt too, the idiot. Shadow huffed in mild irritation as he pulled it off, heading to his room to hide the damage. He would see if it was salvageable tomorrow.

If not, then it seemed that he would be insisting upon a suitable replacement from Sonic the moment that vampire scheduled his first feeding session.

~~~~~~~~~~

AN: I said it on my reblog of the original comic, but I’ll say it again here as well—if you liked this, then please check out Orion’s Fleetway and Shadow series! It’s very similar, very well-written, and much longer than this small piece.

[fight-nights-at-freddys]

that's entirely not what i'm talking about. i agree, groomers bad, ezra bad, words like 'MAP' bad, para pride flags bad, radqueer bad. i never said any of that was good. i'm also very staunchly pro ANTI-contact para.

"This is where I learned the words con abuse as well and hell, I have seen underage users making forms to find someone who abuses them. Is this normal to you? Is making a cult based on yourself something normal? It is not grooming?"

i'm not for any of that, and i never said i was! i actively report those posts minors make, i block those cult blogs, and i will call out someone i think is a genuine danger to others!

"I prefer to side with antis who doesn't like what I consume rather than someone who makes pedophile pride flags. (Not MAP, the term is bullshit. Call them for what they are, pedophiles). I couldn't care less that me hating on groomers and being concerned for victims is "you are using anti rethoric!!! Switch paras for proshippers 😣😣!!!" I don't care."

you're not just hating on groomers, though. you're assuming every paraphile is a groomer, which is objectively incorrect, and siding with antis who want those people dead. you're allowed to be uncomfortable with them! block them, ignore them, do what you have to do to make your life more comfortable, but you can't just paint an entire community as The Bad Thing™ bc you're uncomfortable with it.

"A real community. Not Tumblr users who makes pedophile incestuous animals lovers headcanons and makes paraphiles as something uwu quirky to have. These are real people who need help, this para community is BS because you are not only treating them like children but also ends calling the attention of underage users."

i'm sorry to break it to you, but paraphiles deserve a space to talk, too. shaming them into small, dingy corners of the internet only serves to hurt more people. also, "headcanons". not real. these are thoughts inside their head that they are expressing through text. there is nothing being directly harmed. you are advocating for thoughtcrimes here.

you're getting into an anti's way of thinking again by saying "These are real people who need help, this para community is BS..." because this is the exact same thing antis say about proshippers. if you can say this about thoughts in a paraphiles head, why can't you say it about thoughts in a proshippers head? what is the actual difference?

"Propara community is actively grooming children. Proshipping is not pro paraphiles. Proshipping is pro-fucking-seek-for-help though."

no it's not. the entire community is not responsible for a few members. this is the exact same thing as "the proship community is actively grooming children". do some of them hurt others? yes! do ALL of them? no.

in my opinion, being proship ALSO means being anti thoughtcrimes. in other words, what you *think* doesn't equate to what you *do*, thoughts aren't actions and so on. if you think thoughtcrimes exist for one group, and not the other, you're a hypocrite.

the logic of "a paraphile's thoughts can hurt someone" can be used for ANY community, but especially the proship community, because "well, they like fictional murder, so they must like it in real life!". "they think about murder, so they must be acting it out in real life!". see how that makes no sense?

part of the issue with paraphiles getting help is the lack of acceptance, and the amount of shame associated. that's why it's important for them to have spaces to talk about their paraphilias, no matter how uncomfy it might be for the rest of us (thank god for the block button, because we also block a not-insignificant amount of propara blogs!). but they're allowed to talk about their attractions. they're allowed to mention whatever headcanons or thoughts that come into their heads, as long as it doesn't hurt real, living beings.

calling every paraphile a groomer doesn't help, and only shames them further. this entire post is part of the problem.

I hate these posts.

either you are AGAINST the idea of thought-crimes, or you're not. just bc someone's a paraphile does NOT make them any kind of offender. being proship, you almost HAVE to be pro-(anti contact) para, because part of being proship is recognizing that your imagination also can't hurt anyone.

ignoring all that, though, the other glaring issue is that these are the exact arguments antis make towards us. calling people predators with no proof, saying paras should "keep it private", that paras are trying to "groom" people into believing their paraphilias are good. replace "paras" with "proshippers" and you've got the same dumb arguments WE'VE BEEN HAVING FOR YEARS.

EVEN FURTHER THAN THAT, what happened to using the block button? why do y'all forget all about that as soon as it's a paraphile, or at minimum, someone you DEEM to be a paraphile. y'all are no better than the people you are against.

[pancake404]

The False God's Limbo: BBI Catnap and Dogday

A little bit more of character information regarding the False God's Limbo.

Catnap/Theodore: After ten years of hunting down heretics, worshiping his only friend and God, roaming Playcare, slowly starving, and the cherry on top, the reminder of his past death with the Prototype executing him, Theo is a shadow of his original self. He doesn't feel remorseful nor pleased with his past actions as at the end of the day, they were just heretics that he had to deal with.

Catnap is cold, drained, reserved, and often described as emotionless. He has no issue speaking as it doesn't affect his throat whatsoever unlike before but he normally only talks when he feels he needs to. He doesn't care about most of the other experiments, and he especially stopped caring about the BBI Smiling Critters. To him, they're not the Smiling Critters, they are just other lab rats like him that just look like the Smiling Critters. Despite not caring though, Catnap is more than willing to threaten those that push his buttons.

However, when interacting with BBI Dogday, the heretic, Catnap decided that since he can't kill him or himself(or get out of the place), he might as well stick with one of the only familiar experiments. Though, he doesn't understand why Dogday is willingly dragging him with, it's not like he has anywhere else to go. Not only that, but he also does find that there are other toys that still have some devotion to the Prototype side and he figured that as the main devotee and priest, he feels like he has some responsibility in protecting them.

Essentially:

It's not that he is happy with what he did, he just doesn't have a reason to care. He behaves like a lost monster who has no purpose anymore.

Dogday/Samuel Lee(Sticking with this identity of BBI Dogday): After being pretty much either locked up(in this version, he had only his legs ripped off at a later time than the whole ten years) or witnessing the horror of what became the other BBI Smiling Critters, he feels a sense of failure that was placed upon him as his role as the leader but also, he doesn't want to experience any of that ever again.

Dogday when encountering Catnap imminently in the limbo, neither attacked each other but more of just stared, being unsure what to do. But after Catnap tried getting out...unsuccessfully, Dogday decided to snag Catnap and drag him along to check out the limbo further where the other toys are found. His feelings of Catnap/Theo are very mixed, he feels unsure, hurt, frustrated, sympathetic, but overall, he just wished it didn't turn out like this. He sees Catnap sort of like a loyal dog(ironic, I know) being thrown away like garbage after everything they sacrificed and were willing to do, which Catnap disagrees with. But either way, he views this Limbo as maybe a second chance for all the toys to try to move on without the threat of every toy for themselves in the factory. Though the question is if everyone else sees it that same way(spoiler, they don't).

Dogday is on edge though optimistic. He won't take crap but also has some personal nightmares(such as...you know, Chapter Three). He also doesn't want to fail at being a leader again which is difficult as there are...certain things that the other Smiling Critters(very much including Catnap) know about and therefore, they don't fully trust him.

Essentially:

It's not like Dogday isn't upset, it's just...the others(Catnap included) have reasons to not like him either. He also prefers forgiveness for a better way forward than constant battle of survival which is both made possible and impossible in this Limbo.

When thinking of their relationship, I've seen a lot of ideas such as never-ending fights and hatred over the other, a long time for forgiveness but eventually a happier ending, etc. But for this version, I'd say it's less of finally forgiving the other(mostly Catnap redemption and Dogday forgiving) but more of "Can we be friends this time?" sort of thing if that makes sense. Lastly, in this version, there are dirt that can be made for all the Smiling Critters.

Also, both are drained from the decade being in the factory and they're sort of more glad it's finally over.

[novashelby]

Don't Speak: Tommy Shelby x Reader Smut

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: Slight non-con, dub con, gun play, degradation, humiliation, rough sex, slapping, hitting, language, rough sex. Age Gap!

Word Count: 3k

Summary: When Tommy is at the pub, he prefers to relax. So when a young lady comes and spends the night teasing him about his age, he decides to teach her a lesson.

Please enjoy! Read, reblog, and comment!

Her mouth was too big for her brain. Too outspoken for a girl. Well, sorry, a young woman. Fuck, they are so particular these days, he thought, new aged feminism. He remembered the time they were hardly allowed into the pub, never mind making scenes. Or perhaps he really was getting ‘old’. Tommy glanced at the dark glass bottle of whiskey, squinting, studying his face. There were some signs of aging; stress lines under his eyes, a lined forehead, and sunken cheeks. But, considering his counterparts, he looked good for his age. In shape…strong. Nothing more than the normal aches and pains. He turned back to her, amused. “And how old are you?”

“Twenty-”

“A baby, eh?” he mocked, looking back at the other men at the circular wooden table. He wore a grin as he sipped his whiskey. From the way her mouth tightened, Tommy could tell she was quite irked. But she was the one who poked the bear with, you’re quite old to be chatting up girls. He wasn’t even talking to her. No, no…he was talking to a young barmaid about an old friend of his. Hardly flirting. “Hm?” The infliction in his voice was humiliating. “What’s wrong? Don’t like that?” She huffed about to speak when he continued. “Someone’s a little bit cranky. Maybe you’re past your bedtime, hm?” 

The young woman snorted, swiping her tongue along her bottom lip. She wasn’t a baby. “I was joking-”

“And so wasn’t I,” he said. “Looks like one of us can take a joke and the other is just a bit…whiny.” That is when he downed the rest of his whiskey, threw a few shillings on the table, and nodded to the gentleman. “Early night for the old man, I guess….” He didn’t fare her goodbye, however. He knew she was going to follow him. They always followed. 

Despite the embarrassment on her cheeks, she left her shawl in lieu of copying his movements; sliding out of her chair, pushing through people, rushing out the door. By the time she met the cold air, he’d been opening his car door. “You move fast for-”

“I still have legs-”

“Huh?” 

Tommy cocked a brow, leaning on his opened car door. He was across the street just about to slide in when he noticed her, head looking around for him. He knew her type…her flirting type. Some type of ill humor that wasn’t really funny. Only awkward, but he assumed she must have thought she had such little qualities. Nothing else was a part of her that she could use to sway him. Or, perhaps, it was the new aged flirting of the time. She was going to tell another joke about his age. Funny she assumed he was bothered by her words more than he was bothered by her persistent badgering. “I still have legs…I can walk. Probably faster than you can with your heels.” He grinned to himself, pulling a smoke from his metal canister, perching it between his lips. Lost for words, stumped and taken aback, she paused, swallowing. “Hm?” he urged, as she stubbornly looked everywhere except at him. 

But it was funny. When he pushed off the car door and started to get in, there was a rush of panic washing over her. She looked at him, mouth gaping before she darted across the street. “Wait!” she called, arm up. “Just wait a minute!”

“Don’t you have a bedtime, eh?” he asked, tired, shoving the key into the ignition as he didn’t spare her a glance. For a moment, she admired how the cigarette rested so easily between his lips as he spoke. 

“Can I have a ride?”

This took him by surprise, pausing before cocking a brow at her. With a glove hand, he took the cigarette from his mouth, holding it between his index and middle finger. 

She shrugged with one shoulder, wincing. “I…could I? Please?”

“Insulted me all night, hm? Now I’m to be nice to you…let you sit in my car-”

“I’m sorry!” she said, immediately, embarrassed. “You’re right, I just…I’m-”

“Get in the car…other side.” He nodded to the passengers seat, and a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. She skipped around to the other side and climbed in, closing the door a little harder than he would have liked. After releasing the clutch, pulling off into the road, he asked. “Where are you going?”

“I’m unsure, where are you going?”

“Not interested-”

She pursed her lips. “You’re not married.” Her and Tommy met gazes at the ring finger that held no commitment. Feeling a bit of chill, she went to wrap her shawl tighter, finding it no longer there. “Shit,” she cursed, using the friction of her hands to warm her up. The car’s awkward silence broke with his sigh as he pulled off the curb.

“Someone was in a rush,” he commented, side-eying her. “Care for a smoke?”

“I don’t smoke-”

“Wee baby.” That shut her up, but it didn’t make him. “You are so concerned about my age, but I think you like it-ah, don’t look at me like that.” She had given him a skewed, offended look; lip pouting outward. “You seem to know men like me, but I know girls like you…ones with issues-”

“I don’t have issues,” she laughed in disbelief. 

“With your fathers, and so you seek out the attention of older men because you feel it fills a certain type of hole. But you learn that just isn’t good enough, and so you settle for a fuck.” As she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, he grinned slightly. “I’m going home-” 

“I’d like to be dropped off in the center,” she said, attempting to sound tough, but the quivering in her voice just supported his theory. He continued to drive outside the city limits without her permission. “Didn’t you hear me?”

“I’m not deaf,” he said. “We’ll go to my home and perhaps I’ll make us some tea, I’ll show you to the guest bedroom…tuck you in. And if you’re hungry, maybe I’ll make you a snack.” The young lady couldn’t decipher if he was being sarcastic or genuine, but he was very much motivated to get her to his home. Driving down those country roads with a dodgy level of speed, making sure to avoid the bumps he could. She sunk into the seat, moving closer to the door. Not allowing herself to drop her guard, she held the door handle. I could run, she thought about it, considering all her options if he got too much. Tommy wasn’t dumb; observant and meticulous for everything. She wasn’t going to open the door. He knew that. Even though she made herself believe she could, Tommy knew very much she wouldn’t. 

She wasn’t the type to say no for very long. 

“You live here?” she said after a while a very large house came into view.

“No, I simply occupy the space-yes, I live here,” he said, sighing. “Empty, lonely, dark…boring. But perhaps not for the night, eh?” He looked over at her, parking the car. Despite arriving home, they lingered in his car for just a bit longer. His eyes skimmed over her body; cold, shivering, and confused. Just a girl who realized she took a bigger bite than she could chew. “Why are you so far away?” Tommy slid across the beige leather seats, getting real close. “How’s this?” he asked, arm draping over her shoulder. 

Her shoulders curled up as she said, “I’d like to go home-”

“After all that banter at the pub?” he teased. “Thought you’d enjoy this. The way you were clinging to me the whole night.” He found it amusing how she rolled her eyes, looking out the window to try and avoid him. “Besides, every girl needs an older man…a daddy-”

“I don’t have issues-”

“Hmmmm, funny,” he hummed, reaching over and pinching her chin with his gloved hand. He made her look at him; his grin matching her quivering pout. “Why are you pouting like that? Hm? C’mere.” Tommy motioned to his lap, which she refused at first, but couldn’t shuffle any further from him. He clicked his tongue in mocking disappointment. “Tsk…tsk…tsk.” His hand slid down her back between the seat and her, and scooped her up, dragging her on his lap. And like that, he cradled her; rocking back and forth, humming. “Is that so bad?” Lifting up, he moved the strand of hair from her face before resting his gloved palm against her cheek. “You look so small on my lap.” Stubbornly she whacked his hand away, but showed absolutely no intention of getting off. It was laughable. “You must be cold-”

“I want to go home-”

He continued without paying much attention to words. “I can tell. Want to know how?” With his index finger and middle, he dragged them down until they reached just above her the neckline of her dress. It was a V-shaped lining that exposed the line of her breasts. A good looking man, you wouldn’t expect him to be starved of female touch. But he was. He felt it the closer he got to her. The bulge in his trousers tempted him to ram her there and then, but she was far too hesitant for anything. She swallowed the nervous lump in her throat, nearly shaking out of her skin. “A girl like yourself should know how to wear a bra. What were you thinking? No bra with tits like yours, hm?” Feeling small and disgusted with herself, she looked at him as if he had any control over her. As if he had any right to discipline her. Tommy reached up and teased her bottom lip before pinching her left nipple, keeping it there between his fingers. 

At first, it was nothing, but a light pressure. If anything, it shot a wave of pleasure through her. Her mouth gaped, she meant to whine out in shock, but a silent gasp of pleasure took its place. She grabbed his hand and tried to push him down, but he pinched harder, enjoying the way she cried out. “Hard nipples…they were poking through the entire time. Naughty girl, wearing no bra…What would your daddy say, huh?” He released it by pulling it and allowing it to slip through his grasp. Poor girl had no time to react before he slapped her cheek. Not with an insulting, harsh force, but just a love tap hard enough for her to feel the humiliation. Before she could think of crying out, his hand grabbed her throat and pulled her in, their lips merely touching. “It makes me wonder how fucking naughty you really are, baby girl.” Even his soft whispers were like taunts.

“I’m not,” she fought, pushing her hands against his chest, but he shoved her down easily, putting her over his lap. Before she could whine too loudly, two fingers were shoved deep into her mouth, nearly gagging her. Over them, she tried to protest, her body wiggling. Drool was forming at the edges of her mouth. 

“But here you are,” he said. “Salivating just on my fingers…makes me wonder what naughty thoughts are going through your brain. Daddy needs to correct that behavior, I think….” His other hand started at her thighs, moving up and then inbetween. Crying, she tried to squeeze them closed to trap his hand. “Excuse me,” he said, removing his fingers from her mouth just to slap her. “Come here!” With a fist full of her neatly pinned hair, he pulled her up to look at him. One hand holding her hair and the other holding her face. “Look at me!” Nodding, she shook in his hold. “Let me fucking show you something, hm….” Reaching behind him, he grabbed his gun from the holster and her body went cold. He smiled, dragging the barrel along her jawline before pressing it against her lips. “What? Scared? Well, you poked the bear. Don’t act so surprised when the bear attacks back, hm?” Tommy grinned as he unlocked it, clicking a bullet in place. “Now, this is what you are going to do, love…kiss it.”

“W-wha-”

“Don’t fucking speak! I said kiss it. Don’t act like fucking dumb whore. You understand what I’ve said…kiss.” Leaning forward just slightly, she gave the barrel a nervous peck. “Lick it now-good girl.” He let go of the grip in her hair, and pet her cheek adoringly. “Suck it-”

“No!” she cried , immediately pushing back, her chest pounding. She felt all the emotions fill her brain. He was going to-

“I’m not going to kill you,” he said, removing his hand from the trigger. Hesitantly, she wrapped her mouth around it and bobbed her head three times before he allowed her to stop. “Good girl,” he praised softly, pushing her back over his knee. That time, more gently and kindly. The cool air hit her backside as her dress was pushed over her hips, exposing black panties. What meant to come out as a sign of protest, sang out in a long moan of curiosity. The barrel of the gun rubbed between her clothed folds, sending a new sensation up to her spine. Instead of squeezing them shut, she found herself sinking down and arching herself higher. She went to say something, but his fingers found themselves back in her mouth. “Suck,” he whispered, continuing to rub her cunt until he noticed a little wet streak. “That’s exactly what I wanted.” Putting the gun down, he repeated the motion with his gloved hands before his hands tickled up to the panty hem line and tugged them down. Raising his hand, Tommy paused it in the ear, watching her face as her tongue swirled around his fingers. Then it crashed down.

In a muffle, it was adorable how she moaned out, “fuck!” But her ass didn’t move. It stayed there perfectly for him.

“This is what I am going to do,” he said, crashing it down on the other cheek. “From the sight of your cunt, Daddy can tell you want a release. You want daddy to make you feel good…but daddy isn’t very easily forgiving. I’m going to flip you on your back and I’m going to fuck you…but you get nothing.” He removed the fingers from her mouth and wiped them on her face, smearing the rest of her pretty makeup. Opening the car door, he slid out to give himself some leverage and room. “And then tomorrow, when you decide to be a good girl, you’ll find me at the pub. You’ll be a polite girl…respectful. You’ll sit there, right next to me. You’ll light my cigarettes, pour my whiskey, and keep your pretty mouth shut…. When I’m done with my smoke.” He paused, losing his belt and undoing his pants. She watched in anticipation as his cock sprung free, the tip swollen and leaking precum. His rough hands spread her legs and grabbed her closer by the thighs. “I’ll take you back to my home…you’ll keep your mouth shut on the ride home.” Leaning over her, his lips barely touched hers. He teased at a kiss, but pulled away. His cock teased at her entrance. “We’ll get inside and daddy will be very fucking good to you…He’ll give you all those things you’re desiring right now, but don’t deserve them-”

“And if I don’t behave?”

He grinned, biting at her lip and pulling. “Hmm, well, I guess I will just have to do some attitude adjustments. And if you don’t show, I may just have to find you…and I will find you, love.” With that, he let out a small grunt as he pushed his hips forward. “Fuckin’ ‘ell, naughty fucking girl…taking my cock and you don’t even know me-no, don’t you fucking close your eyes!” He reached down and grabbed her throat to make her look at him when his hips started to speed up. Every time she’d try to close her eyes or look away, he made her cheek redder by slapping it harder.

“Please!” she whined, opening her legs wider, attempting to meet at his thrusts. When her hand tried to sneak its way to her throbbing, aching clit, he tore it away and slapped her again. 

“You didn’t ask!” he hissed, breathing getting heavy as he thrusted harder, upping his pace. She wrapped so nicely around his cock, he could have stayed buried there. Have her cock warm him for hours, days even. Just tormenting her minute by minute, making her salivate and beg for her release until she went insane. Fuck, the thought of filling her until it was spilling over. He was going to breed this mouthy fucking bitch. “Good girl.” His hand went back to its home around her neck, pressing on the blood pressure points, allowing her ecstasy to rise with his. “You had no idea what you were getting yourself into,” he growled, his other hand landing a slap above her cunt. 

She felt her lower half go slightly numb and limp, and she reached up to loosen the grip on her neck. “P-please-”

“Only word you fucking know, huh?” He teased, feeling himself getting close. “At least you have good girl manners now. Though, I rather you just shut the fuck up and take what I’m giving you….F-fuck!” He cursed out, closing his eyes. In a weird jumble of words, he spoke of breeding and filling her. That made her panic and she quickly put her hands on his chest.

“Pull out-”

“Shut up!” He whacked her hands away and held them above her head. Pressing all his body weight down on her, their faces were mere centimeters apart as he continued. “You’ll take it….It’s a gift.” Finally, to shut her up, he landed his lips on hers as he felt his orgasm take over his body. His hips twitched while he moaned into her lips. Pulling away, he tried to catch his breath. Sitting up, he looked over the girl. She was so hazed and out of it, trying to figure out what happened. Her poor face was decorated with hand marks. The redness on her neck would surely bruise. He took his handkerchief and wiped himself before throwing it to her. “Clean your face. Time to go home.”

[staticymaticyyourlifeisatravesty]

Some of my headcanons on Sanguinius

I have lot of thought about this man, so here I go: 1) Personally headcanon that Sanguinius doesn't have hawk wings, he has owl wings. Specifically that of a snowy owl considering how Sanguinius' wings are described as being pure white, I feel like it makes sense for him have the wings since he's not albino. This does give Sanguinius the ability to fly completely silently. I imagine he doesn't actually make much noise in flight, unless one counts the wind from his massive ass wings. 2) Has hollow bones. Freaky, but would make sense, likely means he weighs much less then he looks. Don't get me wrong, bastard is still heavy as shit. Doesn't really affect him much, his regeneration takes care of any downside it may have on him. Sanguinius is entirely unaware of this until he gets his legs broken, and sometimes his Sons end up with hollow bones. This is usually discovered when the Apothocary discovers an alarming amount of weight loss only for the Neophyte to be completely fine; just very confused. 3) How he acts around others, and how he is as a person, are two separate things. He is most certainly a kind person, that's not fake, what is fake is the way he tends to end up being much more pure then he truly is. He's not fully aware of it, as it was likely a defense mechanism developed when he was a child. Clams up around his brothers as a result of it, and holds them at arms length. Most don't realize this, because he's not like Lion who is just cold towards everyone, or like Perturabo who is actively paranoid. 4) Adding onto the previous, his insecurities are the reason behind his behavior and fears rejection. He knows how mutants are seen within the Imperium. He fears that if he doesn't act nice, that if he actually shows the more darker sides of his personality, he'll end up the same way as so many other mutants. Being a psyker does not help this fear in the slightest. Just makes it worse tbh. 5) The absolute king of repressing his emotions. Man repressed the red thirst so hard, he barely feels it and if he does, he shoves that shit right back down. This is also part of why his anger is the way it is. He represses it and then when it comes inevitably out, it's been stewing for sometimes decades at a time. This is also why the black rage is the way it is. Half of it is because yes, killing something like Sanguinius is going to have repercussions, however on the other end Sanguinius had a lot of built up rage that he just sort of swept to the side. 6) Does actually feel the red thirst pretty strongly but as I said before, he represses that shit. This has probably in resulted in him going months without and having an exasperated apothecary shoving a bottle of blood into his hands. He does have his favourite serfs that he likes the blood of best, but he also doesn't really drink from them because unsurprisingly he needs a lot of blood. Used to get it mostly from animals on Baal. Tends to be sneaky about it out of shame. 7) His wings are very sensitive and he doesn't really like people touching them. Absolutely hates it when he's petted on his wings, though that largely depends on whose doing it. Tends to prefer preening his wings himself, though he does have a serf who tends to his wings when he's having a really bad moult.

8) Didn't realize that his wings were supposed to be white for a long time. Genuinely thought they were just a pale orangey red. Found out later that it was because they were straight up just full of sand. This is mostly because for the longest time he just did dust baths. It worked for the most part though he much prefers normal baths. He finds his skin is much less itchy and he can fly faster then before. Will dust bathe on desert planets. Why he does it is anyone's guess. 9) Doesn't enjoy the fact that he has to have special accommodations for his wings. Fulgrim learned the hard way that if Sanguinius is on the Pride of the Emperor, he needs to have an area for Sanguinius, or Sanguinius can and will knock shit over with his wings. Usually he's pretty good about not doing it, but never trust a Sanguinius that's running off of half an hours sleep that was three days ago and hasn't had any sleep for three weeks before that. Fulgrim learned this the hard way and they both agreed to never speak of it again.

10) Can be nippy, especially with his Sons, they have long learned that this is just what happens when Sanguinius is half-asleep and hasn't quite woken up properly but wants to show that he cares. They don't say anything about it, and some of them think it's actually kind of cute. 11) Loves shiny things. Doesn't steal, he has enough self control, but does deeply enjoy wearing shiny jewelry. It has escaped no one that if one gifts Sanguinius jewelry he will fluff and ruffle his wings happily. This is adorable, and some people wonder if he's just secretly a particularly large corvid.

Also adding @moociaoafterdark since they have seem to love my thoughts on this oversized bird of a man

[average-hyperfixator]

IHNMAIMS + Mouthwashing but I get the characters CORRECT DAMNIT(/lighthearted)

None of the characters are 1:1s of each other but I'm tired of people slandering Ted's name by saying JIMMY is his counterpart. (btw I wanna mention that yea ik that Ted and Jimmy have some similarities but there just aren't ENOUGH for me to say they are counterparts.) Ted - Curly ~ My reasoning: They both are morally grey characters who really just. Do not make the best decisions. However, said decisions are heavily influenced by the environment they're stuck in, as well as their less-than-perfect mental states. (Ted's. Everything. And Curly's heavily implied depression.) This doesn't justify their decisions, but it does show they aren't choosing to be bad. Both try their best to save their companions and suffer body mutilation after the fact. (Ted was actually successful in saving the other 4, Curly... he tried okay.) No I will not be taking any debate on this, if I do get into a debate about this I'm worried I'd get mad. and I prefer being filled with joy and whimsy.

Ellen - Anya ~ My reasoning: okay I don't think I really need to explain myself here, but I may as well point out how I wish Ellen got the respect Anya did. I'm so sorry these two have to be stuck with men. Moving on.

Gorrister - Swansea ~ My reasoning: They're both old and somewhat apathetic about the situation they're stuck in. (Considering the canon you're looking at they also both have wives) They're also both a wee bit rude but one can see that as part of their charm. Not much I can say here I just think they're similar.

Nimdok - Jimmy ~ My reasoning: I don't like them. Seriously I don't know why we didn't immediately shove these two together, no one likes Jimmy, no one likes Nimdok. and for GOOD REASON. (yes I am aware both have fans, I'm just hoping they're fans for non-problematic reasons) I don't care, I don't care. I'm putting them together, like I said they can't all be 1:1. If we look at the game canon for Nimdok (which is the only real characterization we get considering he's kind of just, there, in the book) he actively makes horrible decisions, he chooses to be bad. Yk who ELSE makes the active decision to do bad shit? Jimmy. Benny - Daisuke ~ My reasoning: yeah this is why I said at the beginning not everything is a 1:1. I genuinely don't think Daisuke has a proper counterpart in the story (because they're different stories!) but if I were to point out similarities, I'd point out naivety, and facial mutilation. That's all I got for ya.

anyway this is the definitive list that I totally didn't write just so I could point out the GLARINGLY OBVIOUS similarities between Ted and Curly. Nah. I'm normal.

anyway lalala back to never dropping opinion pieces on media I'm hyperfixated on bc I get way too emotional lalala

[nadiuu]

I saw a post mentioning how Matt most likely has ADHD, and since I 100% agree, I wanted to elaborate a bit here (also because I’ll approach it from a matt/mello angle and I don’t want to annoy anyone who doesn’t ship them). I’ve also noticed that this is a headcanon that many people share, so I’d like to delve deeper into it. I’ve been meaning to write a mini-analysis on why these two are so compatible due to their neurodivergences. Please keep in mind that English isn’t my native language so sorry for any mistakes, and I’ll be projecting a lot of myself here, so be kind XDD

It’s not crazy to think that Matt might have ADHD based on the few clues we have in canon. Mogui and Misa’s escape could indeed be attributed to good planning, and not necessarily Matt’s fault, but the guy makes it clear that he’s absolutely bored to death having to keep watch and is always glued to his console.

And you might say: Nadiu, just because he gets bored watching something static doesn’t mean he has trouble concentrating. Sure, it’s normal to get bored. But Matt is aware of how important it is to keep watch, and even then, he can’t help it. If his brain doesn’t receive enough stimuli, he dieeeees (which could be an indicator of his giftedness), and he’ll seek out little dopamine boosts wherever he can. If it’s not gaming, it’ll be eating junk food. If it’s not eating, it’ll be smoking. This could indicate a certain level of anxiety (again, a possible indicator of giftedness or ADHD).

We also know he’s someone who hates the outdoors. Why might this be? For someone with ADHD, being surrounded by too much stimulation can be overwhelming. Gifted people will tend to notice everything around them, and those with 2e (gifted + ADHD) may struggle to focus their attention if they’re overstimulated. They pick up on all the stimuli and can’t focus on just one. This could lead them to prefer isolating themselves, at least occasionally, especially when they reach burnout.

Another thing to consider is his lack of sociability. This doesn’t have to be exclusive to ADHD because it’s also common among gifted people, even without 2e. For gifted people, socializing can be hard if there’s nothing engaging to take away from a conversation (our greatest enemy is small talk hahhaha). This doesn’t apply to everyone, but it’s a fairly common factor. We like to keep our brains stimulated 24/7.

Now imagine someone who perceives everything around them, analyzes every detail, and can’t discern what’s important and what isn’t. They’re chatting with you, but instead of focusing on what you’re saying, they can’t help but notice your eyelid twitching e.g., which might mean you’re stressed, and then they start thinking about all the possible reasons you might be stressed. Meanwhile, there are countless sounds and stimuli around them that they can’t ignore. It’s going to be hard for them to really listen to you, and they might not feel at peace until they get home, where they can finally relax. Gifted people can also be sensitive to light and sound; in our homes, we control everything. They’re our safe spaces.

Again, this doesn’t have to be true for everyone. Let’s remember that every person is unique.

That leads me to Mello—he’s an example of how someone can be gifted and still be sociable. I don’t think Mello has any neurodivergence beyond his giftedness, without 2e (adhd or autism). I know there’s some debate about whether giftedness counts as a neurodivergence, but let’s assume it does for the sake of this post ahhahah

I think the most interesting trait of Mello, in terms of his giftedness, is his hyper-demanding nature. We tend to be perfectionists, extremely demanding of ourselves, which leads to low frustration tolerance. We want to achieve excellence and can become obsessive in pursuing our goals. However, we’re very likely to encounter obstacles (without obstacles there’s no growth), but we often don’t know how to deal with them. Needless to say, this ties in with Near, who is a prodigy, and with Mello’s inferiority complex.

So, why are Matt and Mello such a good match?

First of all, in Wammy’s House, Matt didn’t pose a threat to Mello. Matt was ranked third, and whether it was due to a lack of interest or difficulties with studying, he never surpassed Mello. For Mello, anything below him wasn’t important; what deserved all his attention was whatever was above him.

We have to assume they maintained some kind of friendship at Wammy’s House because years later, when Mello is left on his own, he reaches out to Matt, and Matt comes to his aid. Matt drops everything to go to him. He knows what he’s getting into, the risks involved, and yet he does it. He must have some motivation to help find Kira. And if it’s alongside his old friend, even better.

Here’s where the sociability factor comes in. How many friendships could an introverted guy have made in those five years, after losing the ‘shelter’ of an orphanage full of kids similar to him and being thrown into the real world, surrounded by neurotypical people? You get what I mean, right...? Mello must have left some sort of mark on him if Matt went all the way to New York for him. Could it be that he was already in New York? Maybe, but let me dream hahaha

Now imagine how an introvert and an extrovert, both incapable of forming and maintaining relationships with others due to that sense of being misunderstood (‘the world is neurotypical and I’ve never dealt with it’), complement each other. This makes me think about Near’s loneliness, but we’ll leave that for another day XD Matt works from the safety of home, and Mello, obsessed with success, has no problem going out because he takes the world head-on. Matt, who has likely felt somewhat useless his whole life because of his ADHD, has Mello by his side telling him “I choose you”. Matt, who might have always been a bit insecure, has Mello betting on him. Maybe because he has no other choice? Maybe, but if Mello wants to find someone else who can truly understand him, his only option is Matt.

Mello, who’s willing to blow himself up to win, then has Matt telling him, “Calm down. Stay in tonight to play video games and smoke a joint.” Mello, who has some suicidal idea for catching Kira, shares it with Matt, and Matt agrees because his brain has produced more dopamine in two months than in five years. The Kira case is a puzzle that stimulates them and gives them a purpose.

To wrap this up, I want to share a dialogue (still a rough draft) that will appear later in my fic, putting the cherry on top of this tragedy. Matt tries to dissuade Mello from pursuing the Kira case after the massive scar he earned on his face.

Matt: Why is it your duty to keep going? Why yours? Mello: Who else will do it? Who can keep up with Kira? Matt: You, right? Or Near. Or me. Because we had the sheer luck of being born with this intellect. Mello: Yes. Matt: No. You and I have no duty to a society that failed us. We don’t have to fix the problems of a society that let us rot in that institution. Is it because we’re orphans? Is that it? Do we have nothing to lose but our lives? No one to mourn us if we die? Because there are plenty of other people out there with the abilities you and I have, and I don’t see them risking their necks the way you do. They weren’t pushed to become detectives. They have something to lose; they have their families. Do you deserve to die just because no one will miss you?

And if you’ll allow me to break your heart a little more, Matt’s next thought is:

'Because it’s not even true. You’ll kill me if I lose you again.'