#but that it shouldn't be an answer to everything

[starsonablackboard]

okay, lemme "yes, and" this

i support and condone the message, joffy you're entirely correct about numbers not being the representation of worth of any given art piece

HOWEVER

you (any person reading this posting stuff online) have the right to be upset when something you made doesn't get as much of those numbers as you want it to. the fact that social media stats don't represent the worth of your work can coexist with your sadness about not getting as much recognition as you want. it doesn't automatically make you insecure, too dependant on opinions of others, etc. we're social creatures, we crave recognition and feedback and love and it is absolutely normal to feel discontent about not getting enough of it

what I'm trying to say is – don't let numbers on screen dictate what you do and what you create. if you made a thing and noone clicked reblog on it but you liked making the thing – make more of it. if you made a thing and it did a shitton of numbers but you don't want to make more – don't feel pressured to make more. if you made a thing that you liked to make and everyone else also liked the thing – horray, you found your people!!

but it's normal to be sad, frustrated, even heartbroken about those numbers, it doesn't make you stupid or shallow. it's normal, i promise. it's hard to just stop feeling things about social media stats because no matter how "not real those numbers are" they still feel real. and they are in a sense. there are real people behind at least part of the engagement, and we humans want other humans to see what we do and to like it. we need support. you can create in and into a void, but it becomes so so so much easier and happier when the void answers back

it kinda reminds me of body neutrality versus body positivity. forcing yourself to feel love is hard and often dishonest, but trying to feel neutral is much easier.

you can't just erase your want for recognition and I don't think you should. "im gonna do what i want and fuck what everyone thinks" is good as a starting point, but it can quickly lead to "why am i sad when i nobody likes what i do im so shallow" and that just adds more hurt. don't force yourself to be what you're not. don't force yourself to make art you don't want to or don't make art you wanna make. don't force yourself to stop feeling feelings.

you're allowed to feel hurt about "silly numbers on screen". this hurt is valid. don't let it stop you though.

DO ART FOR YOU! 🫵

FUCK EVERYONE ELSE!!!

Seriously.

I'm so sick and weary of logging on here and seeing creators I adore, and people I don't even know alike, apologising for not uploading or basically begging for a break like they're not a human with needs.

You're literally a human being, with thoughts, feelings and emotions. You're not an art factory, you're not some positivity pump, you're nothing other than a genuine human being living a genuine life experience.

SO GO LIVE IT!!!

YOU OWE THE INTERNET NOTHING!!!!

There should be, and realistically is, no shame in just fucking leaving if you want to. There's no contract you signed, there's no permit you bought or lease you hold. You're a person who decided to share their art with the world, FOR FREE, and garnered an audience of faceless people behind screens who enjoy that art because YOU wanted to make it and share it.

Let me be frank as best I can. You owe the internet nothing, you owe the world nothing and you owe yourself EVERYTHING. You are the only person who can live your life, you are the only person who can create the things you create and you are the only motherfucker that should matter to you when you create those things.

Art is supposed to be a wondrous joy that inspires the mind and indulges ideas that other creatures can't even comprehend. It's supposed to be a magical and fun fantasy land where anything is possible because you make it possible. It's not a 9-5 unless you make it one, so stop making your hobby a 9-5 unless you're getting paid for it, and even then put in limits because no job that you choose to do should end in you burnt out and wishing you'd never started in the first place.

Remember when we were all kids? When we all drew and wrote for fun simply because we could? We'd show people are shit and be like "Mama look!" and she'd clap her hands all proud. But she wasn't why you picked up that crayon, you just did it for you because you wanted to make some shit.

That's how it should be. That's how it is unless you let those fake ass numbers on a screen rule your life. It's all meaningless, the praise may be genuine but that doesn't mean you should spend your whole life running in circles and performing for an audience.

Be a human being! Be an artist! Fuck everyone else!

Just be yourself <3

[venusbyline]

Jacaerys Velaryon — Under the Mistletoe

— summary: When you decided to spend the Christmas Break at your best friend Helaena's house, you did not expect her half-sister's family to be there too. Meeting your ex-boyfriend after the messy breakup was something you did not want for the holidays. At least that was what you thought before looking at him again.

— pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x ex-girlfriend!reader

— type: smut, dark, modern AU

— word count: 2.0k

— tags/warnings: female!reader, dark!Jacaerys, ex-boyfriend!Jacaerys, dubcon, modern AU, Christmas smut, rough sex, vaginal fingering, fingerfucking, semi-public sex, kitchen sex, degradation, finger sucking, cum eating, cum licking, dry humping, rough kiss, past infidelity, referenced cheating, argument, possessive behaviour, past relationship, toxic relationship, college students, Targtowers mentioned, Lucerys Velaryon mentioned, Rhaenyra Targaryen mentioned, curse words, ambiguous/open ending, implied Lucerys Velaryon/reader, toxic!Jacaerys, dom!Jacaerys, sub!reader, no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

— author's notes: Jace was the most voted in the poll I did asking about this modern AU one-shot for Christmas <3 <3 I hope you guys like it and enjoy the holidays.

— author's notes²: The mention about Lucerys Velaryon/reader is really just a mention. But anyway, he's already 18 years old in this one-shot. Also, I'm considering writing fics about Lucerys. It's hard for me to find fics about him and he's really a character that I love very much. So if you want read these next stories, don't forget to tell me. <3 <3

— crossposting: AO3

When your best friend Helaena invited you to spend Christmas Eve at her house, you thought it might be a good idea. You loved her family, despite everything. Alicent, her widowed mom, always treated you like you were her second daughter. Aemond, Helena's younger brother, was so introverted and quiet that he never ended up causing any problems between the two of you. Daeron, the youngest, was sweet to you and loved telling you about how his high school was going.

The bad thing usually was Aegon, Alicent's firstborn, who always drank before and during the celebration and end up causing some intrigue in the family. However, Helaena had assured you that this time Aegon was traveling to another corner of the world and would not be in England for a few weeks. She said his big brother was enjoying Copacabana beach with his friends in Rio de Janeiro, taking advantage of the fact that summer days had started in Brazil, unlike winter in London, and you would only need to catch a glimpse of him on the college campus when classes start again.

The only problem about that night was the sudden presence of Jacaerys Velaryon during Christmas dinner. Eldest son of Rhaenyra, Helaena's half-sister. Your ex-boyfriend.

"Where are you gonna spend the Christmas Break?" Jacaerys murmured without much enthusiasm while you were alone in the kitchen, finishing baking a pie with lemon cream, cornstarch biscuits and meringue.

You turned to face him across the room, the dark red turtleneck he wore matching perfectly with the black jeans and leather jacket of the same color. And especially with that dark, long wavy hair. You sighed, looking away and focusing on the oven again, despite answering him with another question. "Why you wanna know?"

You hoped that Jacaerys would understand your attempts to divert the topic so you could just ignore his existence, even though you knew he did not give up on anything very often, his little side smile proving your point. "Whoa... Don't be so rude, sweetheart. I'm trying to be polite."

"Well, I don't give a shit about your fake polite manner. I shouldn't even be talking to you more than necessary, actually." You murmured in a low but firm voice, standing up and putting the red gloves back on so you could turn off the oven and remove the pan from inside, the hot steam from the pie floating throughout the kitchen and collaborating along with the heater on the wall to warm up the natural cold of winter.

Jacaerys took a few steps, moving closer so he could look at the dessert as you placed it on the table. Even without saying anything, it was impossible not to notice his curious face, seeming surprised by how the pie looked good. However, he cleared his throat and teased you again.

"Aren't you mad that Helaena didn't tell you that my family was going to spend the holiday at her mom's house?"

His invasive question made you roll your eyes, taking the gloves off your hands and putting them back in place, moving around the kitchen to look for a lemon in the fridge and a grater in one of the cabinet drawers. With the object and the citrus fruit in hand, you returned to the table so you could start scraping the peel, small and thin yellow pieces decorating the top of the dessert now.

"Maybe. I wouldn't have come if she warned me."

Jacaerys lose focus on watching the finishing of the pie after your bluntness words, letting out a giggle. "Goddamnit, pretty girl. Still so freaky mad at me?"

You stopped decorating the candy, your hands clenching around the grater handle. "And that surprise you? That I'm still mad about you kissing that stupid bitch during your college friends' Halloween party?"

Jacaerys hummed at your aggressive sarcasm, the smirk playing on his lips while he leaned on the table next to you. "Not really. But I'm impressed that you admitted something like that to me."

When he leaned his face closer to yours, you let out the breath you had been holding since he placed his large, firm fingers on the marble. The woody fragrance of the Jacaerys' fancy cologne made you sigh slightly, your mind filling with memories when you felt that smell very often, especially lying on the bed with him.

You struggled to put the grater and the rest of the lemon on the table and Jacaerys took advantage of the fact that you had not moved away. You could have done it. You should have done that. You had promised to yourself that you would not fall for another Jacaerys Velaryon's stupid apology again. Not after what he did. Not after he kissed another girl at the same party you were at, just to piss you off over a silly argument.

"Stop overthinking, sweetheart. You're so gorgeous when you just understand that you belong to me." Jace teased, using the height difference to his own advantage, his tall body practically covering yours as he moved behind you, his face in your neck and smelling the perfume. "Fuck, pretty girl... You have no idea how much I missed you and your body."

You did not even say anything when he reached up to the medium-sized velvet red dress you were wearing, pushing the fabric with an almost irritating calm and moving his hand to the waistband of your pantyhose. As soon as he lowered it enough and ran his fingers through the lace of your panties, you finally let out a sigh. "We shouldn't be doing this, Jace."

Jace did not bother to answer at first, kissing the back of your neck and playing with your folds covered by your panties, eliciting a few weak whimpers from you until you repeated. "Jace, I said we shouldn't be doing this."

The boy snorted, the small warm gust of air near your face causing you to shiver, his large hand going to your chin and pulling it without much affection to his side, your eyes meeting now. "What shouldn't we be doing, sweetheart? Finally fucking a few months after our stupid breakup or fucking in the kitchen of Alicent Hightower's house, while my family and your best friend's are in the other rooms, almost no one knowing that their beloved guest is nothing more than a needy and dramatic cockslut?”

Your eyes widened at the accusation, knowing full well what he was talking about. "I-I'm not... I'm not dramatic. How can you say something like that? How can you think I'm the wrong one even after you cheated on me?" You exclaimed a little louder, and Jace rolled his eyes, the fingers that was holding your chin now covering your mouth, not worrying about whether or not it would stain your lip gloss. "If you hadn't pissed me off that night, so I wouldn't have cheated on you." You growled under his hand when he whispered in your ear, wanting to push him far away from your body, although his hand inside the lace that covered your pussy made any shred of sanity disappear from your mind.

“J-Jace, don’t…” You whimpered muffled and almost impossible to hear, your ass pressing against his crotch as you squirmed. "They'll hear us..."

"No one will hear us if you keep your pretty mouth quiet, sweetheart. But maybe some of them would like to hear or see you like this. I bet on my little brother Lucerys, the freshman has a secret crush on you. That's why he's always watching you in the college hallways." Jacaerys mocked, nibbling on your earlobe, the tip of his index and middle finger playing with your clit, going down to collect some of your dripping juices and moving his hand up to caress your bud again. "You're so fucking wet. Have you been like this since I came into Hel's house?"

You trembled at the teasing, your hands imitating what he had done before, gripping the edge of the table to keep your body steady without falling to the floor. Jace's fingers gradually increased the pressure and you moaned, trying your best to open your eyes, seeing the mischievous gleam in his brown eyes and the smile widening while he slid the same two fingers in and pushed them inside you without any difficulty. The tearful and loud moan that would echo through the kitchen was interrupted by Jace's mouth on yours, desperate and hungry lips kissing you without worrying about how messy the kiss was being.

Jacaerys was not someone who disliked wet and aggressive kisses, in fact he was totally into it. You knew about that since you dated him months before, so it was not a big surprise when his arousal began to grow inside his jeans, your ass rubbing against him to tease him just like he was doing to you.

"You fucking whore. Are you trying to make me cum in my pants?" Your skin crawled at the sound of his growling whisper.

Jacaerys bit your lip while you were still panting, only letting out soft whimpers when he increased the speed of his fingers and took the opportunity to rub his soft palm over your sensitive clit, making you see stars and moan his name one more time, mentally thanking the universe for Jacaerys loving being DJ at the university parties and know how to use his pretty hands very well.

At least there was something good about always hooking up with Jacaerys Velaryon.

Without taking out of you, Jacaerys pulled you towards the other door in the kitchen with his free arm, the one that led to the hallway stairs. For a moment, you looked at him in silence, confused but thinking he would take you upstairs and fuck you in the guest room. However, the boy let out a nasal scoff and pointed to the green and red mistletoe decorated at the top of the doorframe. Your furrowed seeing the Christmas ornament above your heads, but you did not have time to question anything, not when Jace fucked his fingers in and out of you.

The wet noises of your pussy being used by him was as lascivious as the sound of his tongue searching for yours again, tasting your mouth as if it were the best candy in the world. The moment you distanced yourself so you could lift your head and shake through the overwhelming orgasm that possessed your body, that was when you understood.

Jace kissed you under a mistletoe. And not just that... he also fingering your pussy and made you cum right there.

Taking a deep breath to calm your body and your mind about what happened, you opened your eyes, watching Jace licking one of his fingers creamy with your release. He smirked to you, a sticky noise echoing when his full lips stopped enjoying your juices. He did not care about your look of disgust and carefully slipped his other finger into your mouth, forcing you to taste yourself as he placed soft kisses on your forehead. A false affection that you both knew would not make up for all the hell and toxicity that had been your situationship.

"You came hard around my fingers and under the mistletoe too."

"I noticed…" Your voice came out more breathless and grumpy than expected and Jace chuckled, caressing your soft cheek.

"You'll spend the next few days of the Christmas Break here at Helaena's house, together with me. Then you'll be my good girlfriend again when we get back to campus." It was not a question but an order, your eyes immediately widening, not knowing how you were going to explain that whole damn turn of events. Not knowing how you were going to explain to your best friend that you were giving in to Jacaerys as you had promised never to do again.

Running the tips of his fingers still dirty with your cum across the pie's meringue, he gave you one last kiss for now. "Happy Christmas Eve, my pretty girl."

[littlemissaddict]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Nurse!Reader

Merry Christmas everyone 🎄 had this stuck in my head for a little while and it's took even longer to write. Slightly jealous ghost if you squint.

All the nurses knew as soon as they saw Ghost enter the Medics station on base that there was only one nurse he'd see. Some of the long term staff who treated his injuries before she'd arrived on base were thankful they didn't have to work through the glowering stare, the gruff grunts and all-around hardship he'd made there job of tending to him. In fact it was a hardship in itself just convincing him to see a base nurse.

With her though he was different, he sat willing while she tended to his wounds and they've even seen him sit for an hour after arriving back from one deployment so that she was the one to see to him despite other nurses being free.

No one knew why he favoured her and if anyone asked him he would never admit the real reason he took a liking to her was because she snapped at him on their first meeting. He was so used to the other nurses tip toeing around his large form and intimidating presence but she was different, becoming annoyed with his constant squirming as she tried to stitch the cut along his shoulder, that she didn't ever care to ask how he'd gotten.

"Stop moving so I can finish this and get you out of my sight"

If anyone else had said it, he'd have had something to say about it but with her stood there, tiny form next to him with teeth gritted and eyebrows set into a deep frown then he knew that she was different to the other nurses and that he liked. Hence the reason she'd become the only one he'd see.

Since that first meeting though he'd become a lot easier to handle and she hadn't had to snap at him anymore. In fact there was a little more joking around between the two of them.

"You're hurt, why are you always hurt?" She fussed coming back to her station to find him sat on the bed.

"S'my job" he grumbles, surrendering to her soft touch as she inspects his arm.

With a sigh, she turns her head to look up at him, "If it was your job, then wouldn't I see the rest of your unit just as much as I see you?" She phrases it as a question but they both know it doesn't require an answer. "Hell I don't even seen Johnny as much as I see you" She adds, as Johnny maybe a soldier but he's a clumsy fucker sometimes.

At the mention of Johnny's name, Simon tenses, he's a little hurt even though he knows he shouldn't be, but she's never once called him Simon. It's always Ghost or Lt. Yet she's casually dropping Johnny's name as though she always calls him that instead of Soap or sergeant.

She mistakes his tensing for pain in his arm instead of what it is and she let's go of him as he grumbles out, "Simon"

"Sorry?" She replies not sure if she'd quite heard what he said correctly.

"Call me Simon" his voice is as gruff as usual but she could be mistaken when she hears the hint of pleading in his tone.

"Okay but you gotta do one thing for me in return" she's teasing, she'll call him Simon if that's what he wants regardless, but this constantly getting hurt has to stop so maybe she's going to abuse the power she has over him in this moment but it's with his best interest at heart. Simon nods once, slowly before she continues, "You have to stop being so reckless, I know you have a dangerous job, but at least try not to get injured"

Simon sits and stares at her for a minute or so as if considering her words, he is really because not getting injured means he can't come down to medical and that means he won't get to see her as often but getting to hear her call his name is the desire that's currently outweighing everything else. "Fine" he huffs as if she's asking the hardest thing in the world from him.

"Good, now, let's get this arm sorted." She smiles, turning away from him to gather the equipment she needs. It takes her practiced hands barely anytime at all to complete the task at hand and Simon almost resents her for how quickly she works as now he has to leave her.

He thanks her with a grunt as he stands from the medical bed but she stops him before he leaves, "Simon" his name finally drips from her lips like honey and he's putty in her hands, he's very thankful for the mask right now so that she can't see the colour spreading across his cheeks. "You know you don't have to get hurt to come see me, I do enjoy your company" she reveals and he nods, unable to speak.

Oh but when he thinks about it later on when he's alone in his bunk, he realises she doesn't know what she's let herself in for as he plans to be by her side whenever he gets any free time on base.

[astracora]

The Cat Curse - MC Edition - Chapter 2

Characters: Sylus x gn!mc (poly lads)

Warnings: Some hurt/lots of comfort, semi-canon compliant heart condition, spoilers for current story release (Small mentions of Sylus bond up to 102 and all of Sylus' currently released content), small references to the other boys stories.

Word Count: 4391

Written: 24th December 2024

Notes: New relationship Sylus/MC-centric but poly LADs (this time with group chat), with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in. Unnamed MC, but using my personal MC's basic appearance and adjusted backstory. I take some liberties with what the game offers me.

Now Playing: Freaking Me Out, By Ava Max

<- Previous

Sylus is nothing if not driven. Once he has a task, he will carry it out, and finish it. Sometimes his drive scares you, because he seems to be unperturbed by everything, no fear and no hesitation. 

So after you've eaten and slept, curled up in the safe cage of his arms, and feel less like the outside world wants to sink its blooded fangs into you... he drags the both of you back to the cafe. 

It's late at night and it shouldn't be open, but rules have never been set with Sylus, and he ignores them at will. Especially, you're learning, when it comes to you. Thankfully an OTTO is still floating about the place, and answers your questions... 

Kind of. 

"I stress THEM out? They cursed ME!" You grind your teeth as the two of you leave the cafe. When the boys had been cursed, they'd had to work their sentence... you had been told, none too kindly, that the cats would be more stressed by your presence. 

More stressed by you. Than Sylus. A man who used to pick them up with his mist and hiss back at them if they annoyed him. 

All you'd done was pet them, maybe... hold on for too long to your chest. For two straight hours... even when it began to wriggle. You glare at the man beside you who is chuckling to himself at your hissing, "All I did was cuddle them!" 

"They're overworked and underpaid, kitten, what do you expect?" 

You hiss again, low at the back of your throat and sniff, turning your head away and walking steps ahead of him. "You're enjoying this." It comes out with more venom than you mean it to, and you halt as he takes your hand, quickly to pull you back, easing the tension out of your spine with a large warm hand. 

"Not when you're in pain, kitten." Your tail droops and you sniff him, slumping against him, "You just have to hold out, you're not going to do it alone." 

You're not one for being affectionate in public, you'll hold hands, but that took a while to get you there, and you'll sometimes lean and cling to arms when you've had a little to drink, but anything more was new... and you were private. Worn out, though, you find comfort from Sylus' presence and fall into his arms easily now. A little safer, a little less on edge, knowing he will not let anything hurt you. 

"Plus," his uneven heart beats against your ear, "I quite like your new attachments. They're honest." 

You blink up at him, just as you feel his fingers rub at the base of your tail. 

It's a jolt of pure hot lightning right up your spine, arching up, butt pushed into his hand chasing it, hand tightening in his shirt, and a moan, more like a purr, escapes you. Embarrassment hits then, and you cover your mouth quickly, fleeing his hands. 

Sylus' eyes are wide as they stare at you. Molten and captivated, and his cheeks have a small tinge of pink. He looks down at his hand for a moment, then back at you, "Like that." He says on an exhale, but his voice is a little shakier than you're used to, and you aren't sure how to respond. 

He takes your hand from your mouth, and entwines your fingers, leading the two of you back to your apartment, but he looks at you with a canine peaking out of his lips and leans in to husk in your head, "Information to be filed away for later." 

---------- 

You're sulking, well. Almost. He was cooking, trying to make something more substantial for you to eat. If you were fed, rested and watered, he knew the overstimulation would be easier to manage. You had asked him if you could help... 

"Are you going to get fur in the food?" 

You'd blinked, looking down at the tail swishing behind you, kicking up long fur wherever it went, and ducked your head, "I... can't promise I won't." 

He'd kissed the top of your head, and sat you down at the counter, away from his food prep, and with your music quietly playing in the background. He's used to you chafing if you can't be useful, worrying at the edges of your heart to earn something. He's tried many things in the past, offering deals in return for things he wishes to give you, bribing you for time spent, trying to make it a transaction you can calculate evenly. 

At the end of the day, he was just putting a plaster on the issue. You just had to accept he loved you, and wanted to do things for you. 

"Just keep me company." 

You'd nervously nodded, and sat watching him for a while, before speaking, "What was having a tail like for you?" 

The knife almost clatters out of his hands, he catches it in mist before it truly leaves it, and rights himself as quickly as he can. A second, but a second too long. He looks over at you, your head titled, ears pointed straight up, flicking towards him to catch anything he might say. 

"My tail?" He clarifies, because he knows memories aren't easily gained back... and truthfully part of him doesn't actually want you to gain them back. He worries about who you are now, and how you'd handle the influx. Betrayal and hurt. Revenge that drove you into the arms of a fiend. There was good in your heart then, but it had been crushed out quickly in favour of a weapon for corrupt zealots. He doesn't want to see the you, while flawed and still hurting, crushed of the good in you now. Yet another little treacherous part of him... it wants you to remember every moment that you spent teaching him love. He wants you to remember the name you gave him. 

It's a small part though, because you're here, now, and you love him still. 

"Yeah, when they cursed you. You seemed to-" you grab your tail and try to shove it under your leg to stop its movement, "control yours better than Raffy or me." 

He relaxes, nods a little to himself and resumes his work, "You and the fish aren't honest enough, the tail's working overtime." He catches you blink, look down at yourself and then frown, before adding, "I just got used to mine because I had to, I suppose." It's not a lie. He had to learn quickly... and alone, and even then it wasn't quick enough. 

He just can't tell you that it was the scaled tail that taught him. You have to get there on your own, if you ever do. 

"So if I'm more honest, it will calm down?" 

He chuckles, "Heart and soul, Kitten." 

You run your fingers through the end of your tail and sink into silence, so he leaves you be. Your mind is a place he wishes he could explore without hurting, he's used his evol on you once, at the very start... he has no intentions of digging anymore. Pain is not something he wants to inflict on you, he wants to offer you every desire and all the world's pleasure. So he waits for you to share insights into the workings of your mind, even if those insights baffle and confuse him... more than they help build the puzzle of you that he keeps in his chest. 

He flicks through the recipe he’s following, to make stew, and sees the notifications on the group chat popup. Then hears soft laughter from you, when he reaches a point where he just has to watch the pot, he opens his phone.

He catches the apple you throw at him with ease, chuckling to himself as he puts his phone back down, stirring the pot. “See, kitten?”

You fidget in your seat, looking up at him with wavering eyes, guilty but there’s a glimmer there. “Yeah. I do.” He watches you, as you stroke your tail with your hand, head tilting, “I hope this doesn’t happen again, but if it does, I’ll tell you.”

Sylus doesn’t respond, he simply nods, and gets back to helping feed your hunger, as well as your heart.

—————

Sylus knows the nature of a tail fairly well, his own before was a great tool and a weapon. In it’s, and his, kinder moments, it was a good way to hold you close to him. Feel your heart beating under scales. An action that seemed possessive by nature, rather than soft, as using his hand might have been. Even with his claws. His rarely betrayed him, except for when it curled around you when he was tired and sought your greedy soul pressed to his, but yours… it betrays your emotions constantly.

It is a constant warmth around his wrist, or his ankle, or his waist. Whichever is closest or easiest to reach. He’s not used to you being so honest with your body, it is your words, forced through a tight throat, that explain your feelings mostly. This is a change. It’s not unwelcome, though you frown everytime you realise what is happening. Grabbing at the betraying limb, and trying to keep it contained.

He’d eased your hand away, rubbed at your knuckles with his thumb, and shook his head. Allowing you to seek out the comfort you needed, though your hand had still twitched to pull it back, eventually you had stopped trying to fight it. Relieved everytime your tail touched his skin and grounded you.

Sylus wants to touch your ears. It seems only fair, after you pet his. Disgruntled and pleased as he was for you to send jolts of lightning down his spine and through his skin. Sylus believes, you owe him one. Just this once. He’s been avoiding them for a while, whenever he touches you, as he soothes your skin with his touch. If he brushes your tail it is light, pressing too heavy results in your back arching and moans out of your mouth that make him feel dry mouthed and starving.

He’s seen many cats, he has lovingly called you kitten for a long time. Curious and chaotic, though prone to scratching and hissing to protect yourself. He’s pet cats in the street, seen them pleased and rubbing themselves against him at the right pressure between the ears.

He wants to see you like that.

You relax, tail flicking, curling and twitching. He lies with you, watching a movie on the too small television in your apartment. The volume is low enough your ears don’t constantly swivel, and he has better hearing than most anyway. You lay on him, as you watch, head pillowed against his chest, and irregular heartbeat under your ear.

As you focus, humming along to one of the songs, he reaches gentle hands to your hair. First soothing strands, and then rubbing at the base of your ears. The keen he gets in response, and the way you bite down on the fabric of his shirt, makes him twitch. Overheated even for him. For a moment, you look like you’re debating running away. Tail upright, ears pinned, eyes spearing him. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He promises into the side of your head, and it’s one of the truest things he’s ever said. Cherish you, and devour you, but he won’t hurt you. You are the one who can hurt him, after all, and how glad he is for that certainty.

Your tail lays back down, and this time you nuzzle into his hand, “I trust you.” A song he never thought he’d hear from your lips when you were reacquainted. It sings into his soul, and he takes his pleasure from yours. Petting his kitten, soothing your ears, scratching along your back and base of your tail. You wriggle atop him, unable to hold yourself back. Purring a storm against his chest, hand clawing at him like you’re trying to knead.

There is also the manner of your fangs. One hand traces the line of your cheek, brushing over your lips, and you bite at his fingers. Chasing them in your bliss. None too gently, but not enough to draw blood.

The shock snaps you back, and you apologise, but he’s staring at the marks on his finger with a thrum in his veins. Sparking in hunger. He tilts your head to look at him, and presses his fingers against your closed lips. “If you want the mark to stay, you have to bite harder.” Your eyes widen, blinking at him, but instead you open your mouth to lick his fingers. Moving to where you bit, and laving over it.

His skin prickles, itches, burns, aches. Pain is familiar, whatever you offer is always new. The movie is truly forgotten, as he returns the favour. His marks, however, will stick around for a few days at least. He notices, later, in his pleased haze… that there are some from you, right over his heart.

—————

You understand now why Sylus was grabbing at seagulls, something in your brain, an instinct you didn’t want, is urging you to watch birds. You want to swat and grab, and barely hold yourself back. The faster they move, the more they flap, the harder it gets to hold yourself back. Your balcony is the perfect place to watch them, warm under the sun, as your traitorous body clicks and hisses when they get too close. Alone in the apartment, while Sylus goes shopping for supplies, you have Mephie for company.

Who frankly… seems wary at best. He has offered you a feather to play with, as though that will appease you and keep you from trying to eat him. “I’m not going to bite you Mephie, I promise…” You can’t promise you wont swat at him though. It’s unnerving, having such little control over your impulses. You are relieved when he finally settles, and even more so when he joins you in your game. Moving your discomfort, and embarrassment into playful glee, as you both click and clack at visiting birds.

Eventually the game grows boring, fickle and done until you find something new to do. Mephie rests on your shoulder, and has taken to helping you groom the fur around your ears that blends into your hair. Soothing the mess and in return, you fuss beneath his wing. It’s hard to imagine the time you had met Mephie, and Sylus by extension, wary and full of hatred. Righteous anger snarling through your chest. Now they bring safety and comfort, and a feeling of coming home to roost. 

Eventually the sun eases the both of you into sleep. You lay down with Mephie resting in the curl of your tail, and are nudged awake very gently. A hand holding your cheek and lips at your forehead. “Sy-” You purr, waking slowly and pleasantly into his arms, “Hey.” Tired, you are always softer, not as aware of the world. Edges rounded. You nuzzle into his warmth, “Missed you.”

“Me too kitten. How are you feeling?” His answer is you forcing him to sit, as you climb into his lap, face in his neck and drifting back into the call of slumber. Big, lazy, feline, on the best bed you’ve ever found. You hear Mephie complain as his warm blanket disappears, and hear a huffed, “They’re mine, Mephisto.” But you’re comfortable, and warm, and sleep pulls you back under too quickly.

—————

There’s cat fur everywhere, and while you would love a pet cat, you didn’t realise just how bad the shedding would be. Admittedly you are a… very large cat. With very long fur. You cannot stop sneezing, you’re not allergic, you think, but the fur truly does get everywhere you look. Sylus chuckles as you rub at your nose, and after you’ve attached your prosthetic, the two of you get to cleaning.

Sylus is one of those people… you expect to have someone for everything. A cleaner, a chef, a personal valet. You’d realised that he was too untrusting, and every new person was a risk, better to minimise anyone who could cause trouble in his day to day. He’d learned languages to keep his deals contained, he had learned to cook, though you weren’t aware he mostly learned to do that for you, and he cleaned without complaint, because any task with you was worth doing.

Well, he mostly helped you. When he wasn’t finding new things around your apartment to look at, nosing his way through your belongings.

“What’s this?”

“A candle lamp.”

“This?”

“An old Christmas ornament.”

You rarely got to see this side of him, curious and poking around. You supposed he’d never really taken the time to look through your things. He’d definitely wanted to, you remember the first time he entered your apartment, nose flaring and eyes darting around. Like it was full of treasures, and he wanted to claim them.

Instead, he’d held himself back, and been careful not to touch anything, as though it was all fragile, and he was a destructive bull.

He soon plucked a photo album out of your book case, and started to flick through as you swept up a mountain of fur, “This is your family?”

You freeze, dropping the broom, clattering it across the floor. He walks over, hand stroking your head, “I-” You look at the album in his hands. It’s the old photo of you, Gran and Caleb. The same one that used to sit on your desk at work, before you hid it in a draw. The same one that sat in pride of place at Gran’s home… your home, before it was devoured by flames too.

You nod at him, unable to force words past your throat, and he looks at your shaking hand. “Show me?”

Part of you wants to say no. You don’t want to talk about them, your tail is bristled, kicking more fur up into the apartment… but you miss them, and you want him to understand. It’s easier if he understands. You can apologise a million times over for shooting him, but he has to understand what drove you wounded and angry and full of hate into his arms the first time.

So you let him lead you to the sofa, and open the album with him. It documents as much of your life as your memories can hold onto, though some photos are hazy, and when he asks about them, you can’t quite recall. Like there’s a fog around it. You remember parts. You remember that one is a birthday, You’re fifteen, but if he asked you for anything else, you’d only be able to tell him your family were there.

You remember more in your twenties, pointing out photos with college friends. Talking about reckless moments where you got into fights. There are photos of you with bruises on your face, arm around Caleb as you flash the camera a thumbs up. He’s rolling his eyes, but his hand is tight on your waist, like he’s scared to let go.

There’s a change at some point, where you decide you want to be a hunter, where the bruises are now focused around where you train. Where there’s more life in your eyes, a drive you never had before.

“I used to skip classes a lot, didn’t really see the point.” You point at one of the photos, grainy and hard to make out. You and friends in a club. You remember it being midday, you remember being told anything too strenuous could hurt your heart. You remember deciding you didn’t care, because everything was too short.

Sylus listens, arm around you, head on your shoulder. Looking down at captured moments of you. He’s steady, he’s familiar, and there’s no sense of fear, or of falling. It’s not biting at your heels to remind you that they’re gone. You know that intimately. Instead, you point out photos, and you tell him everything you remember about your family. The people who cared about you, despite how much work you were. Who pushed you to do something, to be better.

A photo of you post exams, the first time you wore your hunters uniform, photos of Caleb in his own uniform.

Photos of family meals.

It cuts off at some point. Recent, you think, and you stare at the empty pages. Since that day you’d had no interest in keeping recollections. In keeping up the collection of memories. Photos had become a habit to store, since you were a child. Caleb started it, thinking visuals would keep your memory more stable than the written word. Though he’d still helped you keep a diary.

It had stayed that way ever since. If you took photos, you could never truly forget… right?

There were so many things now, though, that you wanted to keep in your grasp. To never forget. As your fingers stroke the empty page, Sylus pulls his phone out and opens his photo albums. Flicking through the many things he’s saved. Almost all of you. A random lamb. The twins. Mephisto posing. Zayne with his cheeks stuffed with macarons. Raffy with paint on his nose. Xavi sleeping in the grass surrounded by flowers.

You hadn’t really noticed, how often the man next to you kept a record of the world around you. He points the screen at you, and tightens his hand on your waist. “We should get some more printed out. Fill all those empty pages. There’s a distinct lack of me in there, kitten.”

The laugh that escapes you is so wet with tears, you feel bad for it, but the heat in your chest is so precious… like a baby flame you have to nurse and protect.

He has a photo of you, Tara and Nero at the karaoke bar, where Skye made an appearance. Pleasantly tipsy, and far too into whatever horrible song you were singing. Probably very out of tune.

He settles, finally, on a photo of the five of you. A bad selfie, taken with a shaky hand, as Sy tried to get everyone’s heads in. Raffy has climbed Zayne’s back to stick his head into shot, Xavier has his chin on your shoulder, and Sylus has his arm outstretched as far as he can get it, and his arm around you. You’re happy.

You’re happy.

“You’ve been taking a lot.” You speak, and its wet and you sound like you’re going to cry… and truthfully you feel very close. It’s embarrassing and your nose feels weird, but you don’t know what else to do.

“Every moment is worth remembering, Kitten. Of course I have.”

Don’t forget me. Is unspoken.

Don’t stop loving me.

Don’t move forwards, and leave me behind.

You think, that even if you forget, even if you wake up one day not remembering his face. You’ll know his heart and his soul more intimately than you know anything.

Strong emotions, after all, are impossible to truly lose.

——————

“I want salmon.”

“Is that the cat speaking, or my kitten?”

You bat at his arm, fangs flashing at him, tail swishing. “Salmon!”

“Alright, alright.” He chuckles, ruffling your ears and your hair with one big hand, “I quite like you like this.”

Relying on him, you assume, or demanding? You’re not sure. He’s asked you to be greedy many times, to boss him around, to make demands of his time and his life. It’s hard to do, if you rely too much, you worry he’ll start to pull away.

You promised though, you promised.

It wasn’t just a promise to be honest and share your pain, it was a promise to really, truly trust him.

So, you hit his arm without force, “Salmon pasta!”

His laugh is delighted and delightful, and you want to hear it forever. Instead, you sit at the counter, pushing your tail under your leg so it can’t kick up a gust of fur. You’d just finished cleaning after all, and the idea of having yet another mountain of fur to get rid of, didn’t appeal.

“I want to help.” Your ears pinned back, and looking at him in frustration.

Sylus spares you a glance as he looks for one of the many recipes you’d sent him, not asking for them to be made, but excited to find time to try them, “When you’re not a furball, you can help.”

You might be offended, if he weren’t right. “Says the man who spits out feathers with his evol…”

“Not into your food though Kitten.”

You snort. No, into your bed, on your floor, in public places… your favourite cafe. All over his base. Sometimes he cleans them up himself.

Sometimes.

Though you have a few of his feathers saved, using them as bookmarks in books you never seem to find enough time to read. Shame the fur is more messy, you’d quite like feathers… or scales. Something that doesn’t leave you sneezing.

“I bought tickets to a botanical garden.” You look over at him, but he’s not looking at you. Moving through the steps he’s following on his phone, half humming to himself to the music playing at a low volume in the background. “If you feel like going?”

You look down at the tail that’s twitching under your leg, and then over at him again. This time he’s watching you, eyes bright. Eerie if you didn’t know him. Instead you think them a flame, a candle in the dark to lead you. Being out in the noise right now, scares you, but he is there. He will always take you somewhere safe if you need it, he would move mountains, and you can rely on him to help you when you need it.

It is not a weakness to need help.

It’s ok to cry, and be scared.

So you close your eyes, take a deep breath, and nod, “Yeah… yeah I’d like to go.”

You want to see roses with him.

You want to see the world with him.

His smile is small, but his eyes speak more than anything. Relief and happiness at your trust. Love shining in garnet. “Tomorrow then.”

Tomorrow.

A future, no matter how close ahead.

[buttonbirdjay]

The fact that they conflate attacking a wealthy CEO with terrorism tells you everything you need to know about the institutions the US authorities are most interested in protecting- its not democracy of the people or general welfare and wellbeing- its protecting corporate interests to the detriment of the planet and humanity so a tiny percent of people can keep leeching more and more money and power.

they are really saying the quiet part out loud- charging him with terrorism is actually a wild self-indictment of who the us government actually serves. Challenging capitalism and highlighting the insane economic inequality and injustice in this country in particular and uniting the american rabble in the realization that wait- this system is stealing from us and profiting from our suffering and wait? the political parties are intended to divide us so we don't notice we are all being robbed? (esp by attacking for profit healthcare which pretty much everyone can agree is predatory and evil bc everyone has been screwed over by it- and it is also the clearest example of the illusion of choice under capitalism bc you either get insurance or you fucking die is not much of a choice)

that to commit an act to become a symbol to unite the public over the inherent institutional violence of american capitalism is TERRORISM. And its not even an exaggeration bc to the US government that is what it is.

And doesn't that tell you everything you need to know??? Doesn't that highlight why it is more important than ever to stand up and demand this government actually serve the people? Bc if we let this individual- regardless of whether he is guilty or not- be put away for terrorism for this act- then we have let them get away with saying outright that this government and its institutions of authority (the police, the courts, the military) exist to serve the interests of the uber-wealthy. (And of course- that is who they have always served! But to let them say it???)

To erase the veneer of democracy by the people and for the people (even if it has never been fully realized) means that we give up on making that ideal a reality. I don't think we should let them get away with that. We have power! They know we have power!! That's why they are so scared of what is happening right now. We have to remember that our unity against their institutions of violence scares them.

These terrified CEOs recognizing the power of the people even when we ourselves believe there is nothing we can do?? Its ironically empowering to see in real time that they KNOW how fragile this system is. That they KNOW once we realize we have the power to change things that we can and we will. Institutions of authority in this country have dedicated decades (centuries!) to convincing us we are powerless and divided

And even so- this one relatively small event has them running to consolidate and protect their role as the ruling class. They see that this event has shown the emperor is naked- and they have to punish immediately and reassert the the modern divine right of kings- the false mythology of the competence and worthiness of the CEO billionaire class to exist and rule

And we shouldn't let them. We need to scream deny defend depose! we need to scream out that the emperor is naked and we won't let you tell us he's wearing clothes any longer!! We need to recognize that we are not free if we ever have any hope of truly being free so we can start to right the horrific wrongs done by american capitalism both to its own citizens and to all the people of the world and try. to. do. better.

Because thats all we can do- try every day to do more good for other people and for our planet. The world is complicated and none of us exists who has not harmed another, and I don't have the answers but this current system is not the answer. We can't wait around for the perfect answer, all human institutions will have imperfections. But I believe something better can exist. And I hope you do too. But we can never even start with these ghouls pulling our strings. And at the very least I can and will say the words deny defend depose- I can use my privileges as an american citizen to speak. Force them to show their hypocritical treatment of freedoms of speech and continually highlight their hypocritical attitude to political violence.

Idk what I can or should do. But I can tell now is the time to do something. And the least I can do is say the truth- that the killing of this CEO was the natural response to the violence his ghoulish position wrought on innocent people in pursuit of money and influence. I won't let them silence or censor me. People are reacting with sympathy and understanding to the shooter for good reason. And I think its about time we realize that all this handwringing about how violent acts are inherently bad is a distraction from the reality that the current system is plenty violent- its just that the powerful have monopolized the acceptable "just" forms of violence and call it by different names.

[creatingblackcharacters]

Hello! Sending it here again:

I play an mmo game which recently had a big character model update, it's still not perfect but we're getting there! They're sharing behind the scenes work on curly hairstyles, for example, which just... weren't there for the longest time. Oh the beauty of scandinavian white-centering... (sarcasm)

anyway, I'm from eastern-central Europe, I play on eastern Europe servers. Seeing someone with a character that's not white is... pretty rare, honestly. So rare that when I do see someone using a character that's clearly meant to be a POC, they're very often roleplaying. Recently I saw a player whom I know for a fact is white, as I know them irl (we're not friends, don't even talk much but I know what they look like) and their character used to be white too before the big update.

So my question is, does that count as digital blackface, and what even is the consensus on digital blackface as a whole? I used to be in a facebook group about unlearning racism (used to because it got deleted after some admin drama, I think? If anyone knows a similar group, let me know please) and there, most Black members agreed that if someone is white, they shouldn't be using Black emojis for example (the topic of mmos never came up, I think). I don't remember the exact reasoning but I think it was the same explanation as actual blackface. But then there were some Black people saying it's going too far and we should be focusing on "actual issues" instead. I know that's to be expected, I'm trans and I know all too well that a community is not a monolith. But seeing the player reminded me that I don't actually know that much about it, and I've seen you educate people before. I hope it's okay that I'm asking you, I'd love to do some further research as well though (I love learning things, I just also don't yet trust myself to find actually good sources).

I hope this ask makes sense, english is not my first language and all. So if I wrote something wrong, please assume I meant well, as I still don't know how to word things properly in english sometimes.

Thank you for doing what you do, btw. I really appreciate having someone compile everything like you do here, it's one of my favorite creative blogs on here.

Okay so I sat on this one for a minute to make sure my answer wouldn't change.

1) there is no one consensus. White people don't agree on everything, neither do we 😅. This would just be my opinion.

2) I definitely don't think you should be using Black emojis if you're a white person, no. That's overt Blackfacing. DEFINITELY don't pretend to be Black if you aren't!!

3) for me, I think designing your characters as Black for online play can be okay in theory, as long as you're coming at it respectfully. Like, I'd have to trust that you actually wanted to learn how to play as someone that didn't look like you, that you actually cared about Black character features and presence in games as a whole. Especially on a game where you get to design the character, versus when you're forced to play as a Black person. It's hard to trust the intentions of white people online, especially when far more often than not the good intent is just... Not there 😅. So for me, if someone asks you why you designed your character, be ready to answer, answer truthfully and answer well! If you're playing as a Black character design because "big tough guy" or "big dommy mommy" yeah you're just digital Blackfacing amongst other racist issues. But if you actually have good intent, and are willing to learn, then you'll be able to stand on that when confronted.

And again- that's just my opinion! I would listen to other voices on it as well.

[love-toxin]

Dorian doesn’t know his own strength, you say? 👀 can’t wait for him to get all mean n’ bruise my cervix prrrrrr-

somehow I have this image of like...Dorian being so paranoid about being found out as an android/hunted down by Trinity that when you arrive on scene, he's so suspicious of you (because you're too pretty and make him feel too weird to be any normal human) and obsesses over thoughts of you without knowing he's in love until you do something drastic--like show up at his apartment door with some desserts you made or just to deliver his mail that was in your box by accident. and you have such a huuuuge crush on him you let him drag you by the arm into his place and shut the door behind you, thinking he's finally confessing his feelings for you even though he looks like he's about to punch something to everyone else.

(cws: rough sex, dubcon, afab darling)

cut to him holding your arms back and absolutely plowing you on his bed from behind, your pretty legs all shaky and your tits jiggling so mesmerizingly as he drags his cock in deep squelching thrusts through your precious, messy cunt. he's trying to interrogate you but he sounds somewhat garbled because of his messed-up voicebox, and it just sounds like guttural moans to you so you're none the wiser. when you try to squirm off he thinks it's cause you're trying to get out of talking--even though it's really cause he's pushing you to the brink of cumming your brains out--and he yanks you back by the hips every time, slamming you down on his cock even harder to hear you yelp and squeal before you bow your head in submission again.

eventually he realizes he's not getting the answers he wants, and that you're actually getting pleasure out of this questioning session, so he plucks you off the sheets and manhandles you in front of his mirror, just to bend you over the coffee table and make you look at how pathetic this is. how much you leak and drip all over his sweatpants as he pries you open, how your back arches and your tongue lolls out of your mouth when you should be clamming up and kicking him off. what's really pathetic is how hard he is, to the point that his cock has taken on a purplish hue at the tip (he didn't even know it could look that way) and it's no surprise when he decides that if you aren't going to talk, you should at least put your mouth to use and stuffs his tongue inside it. he hates all you Trinity scum, but he hates you the most, because no lemming of theirs should ever have such a soft, clingy pussy and the sweetest eyes when you beg for him to cum. he hates that you run your fingers through his hair and flash him a wobbly smile as you confess that you like him too, and that you wish you had said something sooner. he shouldn't cringe when you gasp in pain at a particularly bruising thrust, and he especially shouldn't pull out and lift your hips to his face to kiss your sweet, sloppy pussy better.

eventually, he'll have to realize that you're not with Trinity at all and that he just has a fat crush on you, but that might not come for awhile. so there's plenty of time, once he's finally let you drop and catch your breath for the session, to interrogate you again. maybe he needs new methods; new positions, new tortures to put you through, like sitting you on his mouth until you squirt or fucking those beautiful tits until he shoots ropes all over your adorable face. maybe he just has to pin you in a mating press and let you feel his biceps flex as he holds you down, threatening to put you in a chokehold if you don't give up Trinity's secret plans. there's so much he can do...and he won't rest until he's tried everything to get you to fess up, innocent or not.

[monster-disaster]

[krampus] Michael 1/3

krampus!Michael x human!Reader Good to know: a bit mean Michael, a bit crying Reader but nothing too serious

Summary: You want to ask your neighbor a favor but it doesn't go well.

You shouldn't do this. It's a bad idea. Maybe even insensitive, too. Probably. But despite your inner battle, you still find yourself knocking on your neighbor's door, a small, hopeful part of you wishing he wouldn't answer. Maybe it would be better if he wouldn't answer. You could go back to your apartment as if nothing happened. After all, he might not even be home. You could still slip away unnoticed. Yeah, best to just-

A faint clink of keys jangling filters through the door, followed by the sound of a lock turning. Your heart stutters in your chest, and you nearly turn to leave, but then the door swings open. He leans against the doorway, arms crossed in front of him. He is dressed in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants, hanging low on his lean hips, and his bare chest is right at your eye level, all tight muscle and fur. You can see the slight rise and fall of his breathing, a steady rhythm that draws your gaze up to his face. He raises an eyebrow, his gaze curious, almost amused, as he waits for you to say something.

"Hey," you smile up at him, trying to keep your voice steady.

"Hey," Michael replies, tilting his head slightly as a playful smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth. "Can I help you with something?"

Heat spreads up your cheeks, and you swallow, nodding. "Yes," you say, licking your lips nervously. "And, um… you can totally say no," you add in a rush, wanting to soften the blow of your unusual request. "But, well… there's this holiday program at the mall for the kids. A Christmas event."

You watch his golden eyes narrow slightly, suspicion flickering in their depths as he raises an eyebrow. "And?" he asks slowly as if he already knows where this is going, and he isn’t sure he likes it.

"And… we lost an elf today," you say, cringing a little as the words leave your mouth.

His thick brow arches even higher. "Lost?" he repeats.

You shake your head quickly. "Got sick," you clarify. "So, we’re in desperate need of someone to, um… step in as her replacement."

The male's gaze sweeps over you as if weighing whether you're actually serious. "Let me get this straight," he says, his tone laced with skepticism. "You want me to be an elf?"

You let out a soft scoff, trying to play it cool, though the heat creeping up your face tells a different story. "No," you reply, attempting to sound casual. "Of course not."

"You want me to be the Krampus," he states, not asking but knowing. He’s already put it all together.

You nod, swallowing, and manage a barely audible, "Yes."

"You want a krampus to play the Krampus at your little Christmas event so all the kids can run screaming to their parents and Santa?" His voice is firm and steady, his gaze heavy and unyielding as it rests on you.

You clear your throat, trying to salvage what’s left of your request, but his intense gaze makes it nearly impossible to keep a straight face. "Well," you begin, forcing a lightness into your tone, "kids cry over everything anyway."

"You know it's a bit offensive, right?" he asks with a hint of reproach as he straightens to his full height. His chestnut-brown fur catches the warm glow from his apartment. The sight is both mesmerizing and, admittedly, a bit intimidating. "You know how many kids started crying from seeing me just today?"

You are not exactly sure what pushes you over the edge. Maybe it’s his voice, firm and edged with a hint of irritation. Or maybe it's the way he towers over you, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his tall frame casting a shadow over you that makes you feel small and cornered. Then there’s the sight of his horns, long and formidable, curling back before angling upwards toward the ceiling. Or perhaps it’s the subtle snarl twisting his lips, his fangs just barely visible as he speaks. You can't be sure what it is exactly, but after weeks of long hours spent at the mall, surrounded by crying kids and endlessly unsatisfied parents, you feel something inside you start to unravel. It’s the exhaustion catching up to you, the weight of it all pressing down so hard that you can barely hold it together. Your throat tightens, and before you can stop it, you feel the sting behind your eyes. The first tear slips free, hot and fast, and suddenly, you can’t stop them. They fall in quick succession, betraying you before you have a chance to look away or try to fix yourself.

Michael’s posture shifts immediately, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features as he takes in the sight of you, but before he can say anything to make it better or worse, you feel the words spill out of you uncontrollably. “God, I know it’s a stupid request,” you snap at him shakily. “I know it’s insensitive, alright? I know! I’m not an idiot, I get it. I’ve spent weeks at that goddamn mall with kids crying over every little thing, parents complaining about everything. And don't even let me start with that stupid elf costume I have to wear every day! And I just… I just thought, maybe, just maybe, if you helped, it would make it less awful for a second. But I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I didn’t think you’d actually-” You take a breath, forcing yourself to steady your words. “You didn’t have to make it worse. If you’d just said no, that would’ve been enough. I didn’t need- I didn’t need you to make me feel even worse.” Your voice wavers slightly as you continue, the tears starting to slow, but the frustration still raw. "I don’t need anyone else making it harder, Michael." You shake your head, wiping your eyes to get rid of the salty wetness that probably smudged your makeup all over your flushed face.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, you let the silence fall between you for a long, tense second. The words have left you, but the weight of them still lingers.

After what feels like an eternity, you nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Thank you, anyway," you grunt, forcing the words out, though they feel hollow.

Without waiting for a response, without even giving him another glance, you turn on your heel and rush back to the safety of your apartment. The sound of your feet pounding against the floor echoes in your ears, but you don’t dare look back. Not even once. You don’t see the way Michael stands there, his eyes following your retreating form, and you don’t see his friend joining him at the door, patting the krampus on the shoulder with a sarcastic hum under his breath, “Well, you really make everyone cry, don’t you?”

_ You can read the other two parts (I will post them on Dec. 24 and 25) on my Patreon where I post a story every day this month.

[mollypaup]

i think a really great aspect of oofuri is how much it gets mihashi's ass for being overly timid and dependent. it would be really easy to write off the way he and abe interact as being abe's fault because he is overbearing, and a lot of people do, but it has some really great moments of going "hey, you cannot hide behind abe or depend on him to make every decision. it's not good for you, or him, or the team."

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

I know that people are rarely their best selves at a funeral, but do you ever just watch your family move through the process of mourning the Patriarch and have a sudden and violent and vivid understanding of Why Everyone Is The Way They Are

[fight-nights-at-freddys]

So, for starters, this entire post is incredibly condescending, and I fear you didn't read a word of it.

Going over the first paragraph: children shouldn't be online without safe search-like filters on. That is the fault of the child's parents, not any individual who posts porn of their fave characters, and people aren't just "talking about that making them uncomfortable or affecting their wellbeing in any way", they're actively talking down on people who share their sexuality online. It is not, in fact, difficult to find art that isn't sexual in nature, and sexuality is not the focus of everything like you pretend it is. If you hate something enough, you'll find it everywhere and in everything, and that's a *you* problem.

Second paragraph: It's not just "slightly negative" speech regarding people's kinks, it's slurs, racism, homophobia, transphobia, or at best, name-calling. This is very much Christian missionary "if you are a degenerate you are going to hell, and I'm praying that you do!" Examples below of exactly what I'm talking about. All referring to fiction/kink, all directed at trans women.

If you didn't act like Christians who believe that liking something slightly outside of "the norm" makes you a sinner, we wouldn't call you puritans. But as it stands, that shoe fits.

Third paragraph: for one, the block button exists. If you don't want to see people talk about their kinks, block them! Someone having an incest/rape kink does not mean they do not care about victims of incest/rape. They are not the same thing, and conflating the two is bad for a multitude of reasons. Porn is not inherently abusive. Is the porn industry bad? Yeah. Is porn itself bad? No. But again, people are going after *individuals*, not the industry. People also aren't "criticizing how modern sexuality enables rape culture, they're criticizing other people for being sexual, period. Why are you advocating for people to never talk about their kinks/sexuality/attractions? Why is sex inherently negative to you?

Fourth paragraph: none of this paragraph matters because, and I know this is hard to believe because you clearly can't scroll up and see what I wrote (/s), I didn't say any of that! No one said women had to "lighten up", no one said you couldn't talk about your sexual assault/trauma, no one said we should start protecting sex offenders, and no one said an individual's sexual interests matter over everything else! What my post did imply, however, is that if you have this much of an issue with someone's individual sexuality, the answer is not to berate or belittle them, it's to block them and move on, because the issue lies with you, not with them.

Fifth paragraph: This is projection, plain and simple. Have you considered that some people don't have shame regarding their sexuality, and are genuinely just very open? I have kinks. I have no shame. I have no trauma, I have no need to rebel or be contrarian, I just am, because that's how kinks work. Generalizing people to *this* degree is kinda crazy, and there's really no better way for me to say that.

In conclusion, you're directly advocating for the infantilization of women, you, again, didn't read the post, and you're being needlessly mean by insinuating that I don't care about victims of SA.

Then again, you're a radfem, so that's kinda your guys' modus operandi, isn't it?

I think it's genuinely concerning how sex-negative we, as a society, are becoming. (This post brought to you by a few tweets I saw)

Does no one else think it's genuinely worrying how if you even find a fictional character attractive, you're called a gooner, or a degenerate, or some other pejorative to indicate that being sexual in any way is gross and nasty and yucky? Why does art suddenly lack artistic value because it's sexual in nature? Why are we so obsessed with associating a core feature of the human condition with shame and guilt?

Even more concerning is that it isn't just some niche little group of people on the internet, it's rampant. Every nook and cranny of the internet has these people, ready and raring to call you names if you dare speak anything slightly not-safe-for-work.

Like the people on twitter openly calling trans women degenerates and freaks for having an incest/rape kink (I've seen this one A LOT), because how can you claim to be an ally, or lgbt-friendly, or a feminist, but get mad at a woman expressing her sexuality? Why does sexuality gross you out to the point you feel the need to demean people over it?

And where does it end? Are we going to start calling women who dress a little too revealing 'sluts' again? Are we going to ban sex scenes in movies? Start preaching abstinence, say sex outside of marriage is bad, that lust is immoral, and being gay is a sin?

I'm sure that a large part of the problem is that these people are generally children, and still in the "sex is gross" phase, but I know that's not the case with all of them. I'm just worried for the future, because all the people saying these things are just reinventing conservatism under the guise of progressivism, and are (intentionally or unintentionally, I'm not sure) causing more harm than good.

I know we talk about puritanism and stuff all the time, but in my opinion, it's gotten to a point even the actual puritans didn't get to.

[stars-n-spice]

Here the thing is-

Episode 15 better fucking be 3 hours long or some shit because what the FUCK!

And if it's not, it better end with like the fucking "The Bad Batch will return" title card shit they have at the end of Marvel movies with there being an announcement for a new series that is a continuation of the Bad Batch but it maybe called something else because it doesn't only relate to the Bad Batch.

I see people saying let's get a "Tales of the Clones" and that would be great, amazing even, but seeing as the last two "Tales of the [thing]" were series comprised of two stories focused on two characters (and backstories at that) I don't really see it working out well in tying things up in Bad Batch.

If anything, maybe it'll work, but if they do a "Tales of the Clones" I do hope it follows Rex leading some kind of clone rebellion or something and then also Cody and seeing him go to Tatooine to find Obi-Wan.

Even better? We get "Tales of the Clones" AND an additional other clone show that ties up everything in the Bad Batch.

Hahaha....right? Not like Star Wars would let us down, right? They totally would give the fans what they want instead of what they think they want, right? Right?

I say all of this as I put on my clown wig, nose, and shoes.

[nonconstories]

Hello!

The search function on tumblr is trash, would you be willing to make a master list on your pinned post of stories you've written? Or is it available elsewhere? You have so many great universes and OCs, I'd love to go through your catalog properly!

Miss u hope ur good

Oh hi there! I haven't made new master posts for a while.

I have updated the ones that need updating! I'll make an eventual masterpost of the entire MOONDRUNK verse, and the ones that share a universe with WEDDING NIGHT as well.

Incest Masterpost, contains all of MOONDRUNK as well

Pack Noctifer

Monsterfucking

I will be updating this post with: character and world specific masterposts, and with the sexual health masterpost, and probably a few others.

[000marie198]

I know Paramount needs to be boycotted but got to say, Sonic’s and Tails’s eyes look more realistic than ever in the Knuckles clips.

They are? 👀 I'll keep an eye out for that when I see a new clip (not searching them up on YouTube)

And just for the record, I'm not a hater. I love these boys and I don't hate scu like some other fans I've seen who are also calling for boycott so you all don't need to be hesitant talking to me about what you love about this verse. I'm only asking for a boycott, not asking anyone to not watch anything at all even through piracy or start hating on something. That undermines the work and effort and love of artists put in something.

Do boycott. Don't take it as a call for hatred over scu but rather as a fight against Paramount's support of Israel. Don't give that company your money

[pearlv1ne]

I just finished all of Kai's FTEs and I really wanted to add to this, cause I truly belive he has some strong trans coding going on

First of all, his name! Before coming out, many trans people come up with a kinda gender neutral nickname for themselfs as a way to feel more comfortable. If they're from transphobic community/family, it also helps to hide their actual identity while not really having to use their deadname.

You cannot tell me that the name "Kai" couldn't totally act as this kind of nickname!! Its very gender neutral and it could be a diminutive for many feminine given names. It was also pretty popular back in the 2020-2021 era, mostly within trans community. If we assume p:eg takes place in 2023, this would be the time Kai started his media presence.

But that's not all! While I was watching Kai's FTEs, I noticed this one perticual line:

For context, he's talking about taking a social media-related job after his own profile started gaining traction. It happened a year ago, and Kai is now 18 - which means he was 17 when he took the job.

My question is, why a 17 y/o is struggling to pay rent? Why a teenager is paying rent AT ALL? That's pretty much still a child. He's not even old enough to drink yet. Shouldn't he live with his parents?

The answer is simple - his parents kicked him out.

This is all speculation on my part, but what if Kai's parents kicked him out after he came out as trans? It would tie well with my nickname theory. In his 4th FTE he also talks about how he doesn't really have any friends besides his followers.

But Kai USED TO have friends - he says it in his second FTE. So hear me out. Let's say Kai comes from a very transphobic community. To cope with dysphoria and hatred towards others like him he starts a social media profile, using his chosen name. He posts edited photos of himself, trying to appear more masculine, all of that stuff - but then, something happens and his family and friends find out about his identity. His parents kick him out, and his friends stop associating with him.

Doesn't that sheeds a whole new light at his previous words? "They're always telling me to keep [...] beging myself... Even though they don't have too... Even though they could stop at any moment... they're still here, despite everything". LIKE, COME ON. THAT'S SOME HEAVY CODING IF I EVER SEEN ONE.

Speaking of coding, Kai actually says A LOT of things during his FTE that could be read as trans allegory. This one specificaly stuck out to me:

"... But beging incognito wasn't even my choice." HELLO???? AM I GOING CRAZY????

It might be just me reading to much into things, but I geniuenly think that Transmasc Kai headcanon makes sooooo much sense!! I already love him as he is ( chapter one only made my appreciation for him grow) and I think making him canonically transmasc would add so much layer to his character. Its also not that unlikely, since Kaimon is semi-canon at this point lmao

Anyway, if Kai ever gets comfirmed as canon trans, don't forget that I and op called it !

why do I have an inkling that kai monteago might be trans.......... Like I don't have any substantial proof (only chapter 1 is out right neow duh) but it's just a feeling

I mean butterflies are a common symbol for transformation right? It just so happens to be his motif, a pink butterfly being sewn onto the left side of his sweater (where his heart is). Also in the beach designs, he's covering his chest too

Even in this official art (Desmond and wenona look so FINE but that's not the main focus here) Kai is basically fully covered. I'm pretty sure swimming binders do exist, so I wouldn't be surprised if that's why he doesn't reveal his bare chest like most of the male cast.

I mean, its also possible it ties into him as a person. He begun as an influencer by posting edited photos of himself. He's definitely not as confident as he makes himself out to be.

Anyway transmasc Kai canon trust I'm actually the apple Damon's holding in the trailer

[savage-rhi]

Magenta 😥