#even if it doesn't really apply any more since this was for when he was wandering the mortal realm as an amnesiac

[runes-menagerie]

"Another time perhaps. When we have more supplies. Better for you to have it since it doesn't really do anything for me as far as I can tell." Astarion answered with a small smile. He appreciated the gesture and the thought behind it but he knew that in their current situation it was better if he didn't partake since his needs could be met other ways.

"Fair enough. I admit that I never had much occasion to cook so I have no idea how one goes about preparing a rabbit to be cooked and eaten." He admitted with a shrug, not feeling any shame for it, especially since he did have other skills that were just as useful.

After that he went to the river where he first striped out of his clothing so he could carefully clean it and see where he needed to mend things. He would likely spend some time that night with the small sewing kit he kept on him to mend all the little tears and pulled threads. For now he hung them from a nearby tree to dry before getting into the water himself.

A soft hiss left his lips since he was still able to feel the cold although he couldn't die from it. It wasn't comfortable however and it made him move more quickly than he normally would have.

"Probably for the best. You're likely to catch your death if you stay too long in this water." Astarion commented when the Tiefling joined him. He wasn't even thinking about his back, nor the fact that the other might be able to read it since as far as he knew he was some nonsensical poem his master had written. Soon enough he would leave the water and return to his things to apply a bit of the perfume he used to cover his undead scent.

Caligo took the wood first and made a quick stack which he lit with his hands. Holding his palms towards the wood and whispered something, fire sprung from his hands and the wood began to burn. Burning hands was a handy thing in their situation, or at least in his situation. Not sure if Astarion could feel cold like he did. He accepted the rabbit and grinned. “Nice, thanks. Want a piece too?” He looked at him. The Tiefling knew that he didn’t really need the food, but it felt better to ask anyway than to assume it was just for him.

“I might, but I’m going to clean this first. Haven’t done this in a while and could get messy… Better clean up when I’m done with this.” Which would take a little while, so both should have some time for themselves. He took out his dagger and went to work on the rabbit as proper as he could. He didn’t do a lot of skinning, but he wasn’t disgusted by it either.

After a while, Caligo had it cooking at the fire and did a little scan of the area before he wondered off to where Astarion washed himself. He undressed and got into the water, hissing when it was colder than expected. After their night of intimacy, they went back to a certain comfortable distance. Caligo wasn’t the clingy sort, unless he was unraveling by someone’s touch. “I’m going to make it quick, can’t have it burning to a crip.” He chuckled.

For a moment, he wanted to ask Astarion about his scars which were in infernal, but it didn’t felt like it was the right moment. So he didn’t.

[arcxnumvitae]

Someone holds me safe and warm. Horses prance through a silver storm. Figures dancing gracefully across my memory.

[anantaru]

⚝ DAY 2 — POWER IMBALANCE

kinktober 2024. — masterlist | ao3

— including. — neuvillette, diluc, ayato

— warnings. — fem! reader, power imbalance, toxic & manipulation, hard syx, dom/sub, reader teases in diluc's part, ayato is really toxic in this one kinda???

⚝ — NEUVILLETTE

when neuvillette tells you to do something, you're doing it, point blank— because you see, he's your master, the man who's saved you, not to mention your literal boss since he was so nice to give you a job as his sweet n pretty secretary.

as it was, in the grand halls of fontaine's court of justice, neuvillette’s word were law itself— precisely when he tells you to do something, it becomes absolute, you're immediately on your way without processing any of it.

his presence alone commands respect— coldness, it reveals a composed man, an untouchable one—yet his touch, it's surprisingly warm despite the fact that he rarely spoke about love or intimacy.

despite the fact that the subtle gestures on your body— the little kisses and reassuring tugs on your flesh whenever he fucked you on his desk were maddening, never leaving out the best part of it; when he places his palms around your head so you wouldn't hurt yourself, immediately resulting in you melting underneath his broad body as he revealed a softness beneath the stern exterior.

you feel the weight of his authority in every thrust, every grind and harsh squeeze of his palms reaching for your tits.

the unspoken pressure to be perfect for him was there, yes, to make him feel perfect while you're also contemplating if you'd ever be enough for an enigmatic individual like him.

face nuzzling into the crook of his neck, you feel how his fingers apply more strength as he flexes his digits into the flesh of your hips, dragging you deeper towards his cock twitching between your walls— the desperate milking compression of your warm cunt making him want to lose control.

you begin feel lightheaded at the arousal messing him up— and ugh, how much there was, and ah, you’re so tight, even after multiple rounds, desperately waiting for him to drag you against his desk and make your pussy squeeze him, wanting him to feel like you pull him.

⚝ — DILUC

in front of strangers, diluc’s intensity was something which was being noticed right from the start— and well, he wanted it that way, it meant that he had one headache less to worry about.

it doesn't matter though, because behind closed doors, your hand slips under his loosened shirt like it's meant to, graciously rubbing at his bare muscles flexing underneath the softness of your palms. having an affair with your boss surely wouldn't look good to bystanders, nor was it something diluc wanted to get out in the first place— hence why he'd never fail to subtly show you, also throwing a slight passive aggressiveness into it, that he was in charge of this, or whatever you might call the situation between you both.

he sucked in a sharp breath as his dick gradually got hard under his tight pants, pulsating on all the sharp edges and rough lines when you began to fidget with the belt, "hey now, you shouldn't get so bossy," he smiles down at you, cupping your cheek before placing his thumb on your bottom lip to tap it repeatedly

"you have quite the personality today, master diluc," you frown at him, with one hand grabbing at his biceps as he breathes— for a second deflecting the real reason as to why he would pretend to care about what other people thought about him, or about this.

or perhaps he was utterly scared of showing genuine emotions to someone he hasn't known for long.

yet instead of going through with his newfound thought, diluc instantly grabs at your hips to make you fall against his chest in combination with him bumping down the large sofa, the leather of the furniture creaking.

he licks his lips, fuck— diluc forgot how much passion could manifest in simply being felt up a little and he desperately attemps to focus on playing with your tits, or at least watch how pretty and nicely they fit in is hand.

be as it may, all that has really gotten his attention was the feeling of your hand on his cock, fiercely palming him through his boxers, your fingertip teasing along the edge of his waistband.

"you'll get in trouble," he manages to breathe out, whimpering when you angle your hand upwards so he could feel the heat of your hand on his tip.

⚝ — AYATO

ayato, most famously known as the head of the yashiro commission, had an unique gift inside of him— you see, he knew how to use words like deadly weapons.

when he wants something, really craves and desires a certain being, it felt like the world immediately bends to his will— including you, the person he was actually after. ayato will convince you that his decisions are in your best interest, even when they serve his own.

"oh, is my sweet girl worried about me?" he breathes out before placing his wet tip on your clit, tapping and nudging at it— the sound echoing through the room and standing over your head was making you feel hot and cold at the same time.

you can sense the painful squeeze in your stomach to just want to be filled— please, get his thick shaft into your intimate space until it's obvious on your face, sending him back a doe-eyed look while he towers on top of your naked frame— thighs twitching, his dick sinking back into your mushy cunt.

okay, maybe he's gotten a little too lost in you.

since you're intriguing in his eyes, well— ayato knows he can get a hold of you, that you admire him and are more than happy with the job that he's given you— not that he cares, in fact, he need you, that constant drive of feeling you was burning hotter and turning him insane.

his body trembles as he watches your liquids stick around the base of his cock, proving his point that you're as desperate for him as he was for you as he smeared your slick back inside your trembling walls, your skin throbbing and twitching with every unforgiving push of his hips.

with how big he was, in every aspect imaginable, you begin to feel like he was stretching you forever as you gasp out a broken mumble of his name, the waves of his thrusts and rolls stinging along your nerves as you begin to moan out shamelessly, feeling every detail and vein of his cock moulding into your walls and marking its shape inside.

ayato was intoxicating— no, stop it, he's your boss, okay, cool down.

yet it never ever felt fucking better.

© 2024 anantaru  do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

FYI artists and writers: some info regarding tumblr's new "third-party sharing" (aka selling your content to OpenAI and Midjourney)

You may have already seen the post by @staff regarding third-party sharing and how to opt out. You may have also already seen various news articles discussing the matter.

But here's a little further clarity re some questions I had, and you may too. Caveat: Not all of this is on official tumblr pages, so it's possible things may change.

(1) "I heard they already have access to my data and it doesn't really matter if I opt out"

From the 404 article:

A new FAQ section we reviewed is titled “What happens when you opt out?” states “If you opt out from the start, we will block crawlers from accessing your content by adding your site on a disallowed list. If you change your mind later, we also plan to update any partners about people who newly opt-out and ask that their content be removed from past sources and future training.”

So please, go click that opt-out button.

(2) Some future user: "I've been away from tumblr for months, and I just heard about all this. I didn't opt out before, so does it make a difference anymore?"

Another internal document shows that, on February 23, an employee asked in a staff-only thread, “Do we have assurances that if a user opts out of their data being shared with third parties that our existing data partners will be notified of such a change and remove their data?” Andrew Spittle, Automattic’s head of AI replied: “We will notify existing partners on a regular basis about anyone who's opted out since the last time we provided a list. I want this to be an ongoing process where we regularly advocate for past content to be excluded based on current preferences. We will ask that content be deleted and removed from any future training runs. I believe partners will honor this based on our conversations with them to this point. I don't think they gain much overall by retaining it.”

It should make a difference! Go click that button.

(3) "I opted out, but my art posts have been reblogged by so many people, and I don't know if they all opted out. What does that mean for my stuff?"

This answer is actually on the support page for the toggle:

This option will prevent your blog's content, even when reblogged, from being shared with our licensed network of content and research partners, including those that train AI models.

And some further clarification by the COO and a product manager:

zingring: A couple people from work have reached out to let me know that yes, it applies to reblogs of "don't scrape" content. If you opt out, your content is opted out, even in reblog form. cyle: yep, for reblogs, we're taking it so far as "if anybody in the reblog trail has opted out, all of the content in that reblog will be opted out", when a reblog could be scraped/shared.

So not only your reblogged posts, but anyone who contributed in a reblog (such as posts where someone has been inspired to draw fanart of the OP) will presumably be protected by your opt-out. (A good reason to opt out even if you yourself are not a creator.)

Furthermore, if you the OP were offline and didn't know about the opt-out, if someone contributed to a reblog and they are opted out, then your original work is also protected. (Which makes it very tempting to contribute "scrapeable content" now whenever I reblog from an abandoned/disused blog...)

(4) "What about deleted blogs? They can't opt out!"

I was told by someone (not official) that he read "deleted blogs are all opted-out by default". However, he didn't recall the source, and I can't find it, so I can't guarantee that info. If I get more details - like if/when tumblr puts up that FAQ as reported in the 404 article - I will add it here as soon as I can.

Edit, tumblr has updated their help page for the option to opt-out of third-party sharing! It now states:

The content which will not be shared with our licensed network of content and research partners, including those that train AI models, includes: • Posts and reblogs of posts from blogs who have enabled the "Prevent third-party sharing" option. • Posts and reblogs of posts from deleted blogs. • Posts and reblogs of posts from password-protected blogs. • Posts and reblogs of posts from explicit blogs. • Posts and reblogs of posts from suspended/deactivated blogs. • Private posts. • Drafts. • Messages. • Asks and submissions which have not been publicly posted. • Post+ subscriber-only posts. • Explicit posts.

So no need to worry about your old deleted blogs that still have reblogs floating around. *\o/*

But for your existing blogs, please use the opt out option. And a reminder of how to opt out, under the cut:

The opt-out toggle is in Blog Settings, and please note you need to do it for each one of your blogs / sideblogs.

On dashboard, the toggle is at https://www.tumblr.com/settings/blog/blogname [replace "blogname" as applicable] down by Visibility:

For mobile, you need the most recent update of the app. (Android version 33.4.1.100, iOs version 33.4.) Then go to your blog tab (the little person icon), and then the gear icon for Settings, then click Visibility.

Again, if you have a sideblog, go back to the blog tab, switch to it, and go to settings again. Repeat as necessary.

If you do not have access to the newest version of the app for whatever reason, you can also log into tumblr in your mobile browser. Same URL as per desktop above, same location.

Note you do not need to change settings in both desktop and the app, just one is fine.

I hope this helps!

[bi-writes]

more little thoughts about curvy!sunshine!fem!reader and dark!simon (18+)

thinking about being so indifferent to his violence because it has never been directed at you. you had a bad night at the pub--an asshole tried to grab your ass in the brand new white dress you bought, with a puffy little mini skirt, and you had wanted to wear it out and get dressed up. the man had ruined your night; you just wanted to spend it with simon, drinking and spending time together, and as soon as he had his hand up your dress, and simon saw the tears in your eyes, all he could see was red.

you're sitting on the curb outside, sniffling, tears still a little damp on your face as you lick at the cone of ice cream you're holding. you click your heels against the pavement, and you look to the side when you feel a big, warm presence take a seat next to you. his shirt looks damp and sticky, and your eyes dart down to see how his boots smear blood against the ground. you smile a little through your soft tears, reaching over and sliding your arm around his. the tension in his muscles relaxes, and you lean up and kiss his cheek gently.

"did he squirm?" you ask softly as you trace his ungloved hand, running your fingers lightly over the fresh bruises there. "i know you hate it when they cry."

"didn't 'ave time t'cry," he grumbles. he leans over, kissing your forehead through the mask, holding you close. "cut his throat out before he could even think about it. and then i took his hands, luv--" you take a lick of your ice cream before you smile up at him. "didn't deserve 'em since he's had a feel 'f ya."

he lets you paint his nails. you sit on his big thigh, holding his hand up as you smooth black polish over his nail bed. you clean his cuticles and under his fingernails, giving him a nice little manicure before practicing your nail-painting skills. all he does is sit there and grumble as he watches a football game on the telly, not really paying you any mind. when you finish, you smooth lotion over his cracked knuckles and smooth some oil over his nails until they're nice and soft. when you finish, he makes you watch him stuff those fingers into your pretty pussy. he never takes his eyes off the game, but his lips twitch into the lightest smirk as he feels you writhe and squirm beside him, laid back on the couch as you wet his freshly painted nails with cum.

he never lets you cry, not really, because he fucking hates it. if you cry, he tilts your head up towards him, shoving his mask up before dragging his pink tongue up your face and ridding the pretty planes of your cheeks of any evidence. his solution to your sadness, if that doesn't work, is to put his head between your thighs and eat.

he never says no to you. wherever you want to go, he will take you. whatever you want to buy, he will buy it for you. even if it's something you technically can't have, like the vintage purse you see as you window shop with a not for sale tag on it. or the last pair of sparkly barrettes that the woman in front of you snagged first, found at the bottom of your shopping bag the next day. or the job you applied for that you knew you wouldn't get because you bombed the interview--only to receive confirmation in the middle of the night that you got the job, telling simon monday night that your new boss got mugged only a few hours after your interview!

(the bruises on his face are gnarly--and he seems to always avoid you like the plague.)

you break all his supposed boundaries in front of other people, but what they don't understand is that he has boundaries with everyone except for you. when you visit him on base, everyone tenses when you run into the rec room looking for him, slipping into the chair he sits in and taking your place on his lap. but ghost doesn't flinch as he does if others touch him. no, he just places his hand on your back to steady you. when you're out at the pub with his teammates, they stare wide-eyed as you cup his masked cheeks and kiss him all over his face--his eyes, his nose, his cheeks--but all ghost does is pat your ass soothingly and stroke along your hair gently. he stands out in crowds, so imposing and large and broad, and he ignores the stares when a pretty girl bounces into his orbit, taking his hand and pulling him along because simon, i saw this dress, but i need your help getting the zipper up--

there just isn't anyone like you. ghost feels dead, on the inside. he doesn't feel right. he knows something is so wrong inside of him. he wants to eat your glow. it's what he has loved about you since he met you. the unconditional devotion, the big heart you give him, the wet look in your eyes when he does anything for you, even when it includes the bloody stuff. even if he does the wrong thing, even if he kills the wrong man, and you know he is overreacting, you are never mad, never angry. you just kiss his scars and coo in his ear, "it's okay, you didn't know any better, you were just doing it for me, weren't you, baby?"

you give him the validation that he needs to be violent. you tell him it's okay. you aren't afraid of all the gore, of the terrible things he does, of all the things he rights with wrongs. he is quick to anger, and he finds it easy to be judge, jury, and executioner, and all you do is bat your lashes and open your legs and tell him it's okay, simon--it's okay, come here, i miss you.

you suffocate the things that scream in his ears. when it's too loud, you push him to lay down, climb up over him, put your thighs around his head and quiet the noise. you sit your pretty pussy on his mouth, and you ride his face, smoothing a hand over the balaclava that he is too busy to take off. you used to be afraid of being too heavy, of making it hard to breathe for him, but simon is a big boy, and maybe he wants to die, because you taste so sweet, and he always chubs up so easily with his hands digging into your hips and his tongue deep inside of you.

it aches, everything hurts, the world is too loud, but it isn't like this in your flat. it's just right. it's normal. it's safe. simon can be himself, and so can you, and when he is too brooding and terrifying, he looks at you, because if you're still smiling, he isn't too much of anything. and when you think you're talking too fast, when you are second-guessing the dress you want to wear, you look at him, because if he is there, nothing will ever be wrong, and no one can ever hurt you.

simon isn't a good person. you know that. he's quick to the knife. he likes to bite. he commits war crimes, and then he comes home, and no one asks him to explain himself, and no one tells him to stop what he's doing, and when he does it over and over again, all he gets is validation, medals for a job well done, and maybe you're an instigator, too, because you let him fuck you in every position whenever he comes home, a reward for bringing death to whoever was stupid enough to end up at the wrong end of his rifle.

but it's really, really hard to care. as soon as he steps through the door, dropping his duffel bag onto the floor, all of your doubts disappear. all you can do is stare at him in all his gear, swallow the drool that threatens to spill, smile--welcome home, teddy bear!

he is a bear. but you've never been on the receiving end of what scares people. if someone were to ask you what to do, you don't think you'd know what to tell them. you wonder what it is you would tell them if they begged for your help.

run away? or play dead?

[yawnderu]

Lorelei — Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader | Part I

1 2 3 4 5 6

Synopsis: Aware of the way his lifestyle doesn't align with your dream life and unwilling to quit his life as a soldier, Simon breaks things off with you. It isn't until a year later that he sees you again, a tiny carbon copy of him held in your arms.

''So you're just goin' to sit there and tell me that isn't my daughter.'' Simon says bluntly, tone even yet carrying a snark hidden that you came to listen so many times after working with him— never once directed at you until now.

''It's really none of your business, Ghost.'' You don't even spare a glance at him, simply looking at your little girl, fingers gently running through her short hair. She looks exactly like Simon, though that will never take away your love for her.

''You're not denyin' it.'' He hesitantly sits down next to you, secretly afraid you'll bite his head off. The glare you shoot his way is enough confirmation that you would if you could. You sigh softly, the air leaving your lungs before being sucked back in, not wanting to argue in front of your little girl despite her not understanding words yet.

''Well, what's it to you? Why do you need to know?'' I can't handle you leaving me again.

''Don't be like that.'' His tone is soft, almost pleading. It has been over a year since he broke up with you, yet that doesn't make the loss any easier, not now that he knows he has a daughter, no matter how much you tried to hide it from him.

''Why didn't you tell me?'' He asks gently, feeling like he's walking on eggshells. It's the first time ever he feels that way with you, and he doesn't blame you in the slightest. It takes a few seconds of you thinking before you answer.

''I was terrified of you choosing to walk away from her... to be a deadbeat. I didn't want to have that image of you, because that would have hurt more than the break up.'' Your voice is more calm, though for all the wrong reasons. The familiar tingling all over your nose is back, eyes stinging as you try to hold back tears, too prideful to cry in front of him again.

''That's what you think o' me?'' He replies in nothing but pure disbelief and slight disgust. He would never walk away from his child, no matter how much that would destroy all the walls he has been building for years, stones upon stones carefully piled on top of each other, so strong nothing could ever break through— until you came along.

''I was fucking scared, okay?'' You look away and wipe your eyes with one hand, the other one carefully supporting the neck of the baby on your lap. Simon sighs, his bare hand hesitantly reaching down to trace the features of the tiny girl, being careful with her as if she would break if he applied any pressure. He notices your eyes glued to his hand, eyebrows furrowed. He's about to move his hand away until you adjust the little girl so he can touch her face without the awkward angle.

''Give me one more chance. Please— please, let me be a father to her.'' Simon never begged for anything, not even when he was tortured for months to no end, drugged, beaten like a dog, yet here he is; begging his ex for a chance to keep the girl in his life. You don't reply.

''I'll do everything I can. What I should've done. I want to be here, please.'' He was so damn ready to get on his knees and beg if that's what it took for you to let him be involved in her life. He's not asking you to be together— he knows he doesn't deserve that chance.

''She's looking at you like she knows you.'' Your response is ominous to say the least. You want to deny him, to tell him he doesn't even deserve to be able to touch the little girl you birthed alone, that he doesn't deserve the chance at a family after he destroyed 4 years of a relationship because of the very same thing, but... your little girl is looking up at him with pure admiration and curiosity in her big brown eyes, her tiny hand struggling to hold one of his fingers. Growing up with a single parent yourself, you know she deserves better, and you're willing to put your pride and pain aside to make sure she gets the world.

''Okay.'' You reply after taking a deep breath, holding it into your lungs for what feels like forever, choosing to ignore the strong arms wrapping around you, bringing all three of you close. It feels... right.

[NEXT]

[lxnarphase]

Imagine a street dog/stray dog Toji hybrid

CAN WE MAKE OUT !!!!! CAN WE. MAKE OUT !!!! i LOVE UR BRAIN

listen listen listen ok??

stray dog!toji that left his old home because the family he used to be with just. turned out to be shitty to him, getting some damn cat hybrid that they ended up pampering and prioritizing over him. the main reason they even had toji was for protection purposes, but he was over it after they yelled at him for something that damn cat did

after that, he had been making it work to the best of his ability but he wont lie, it was definitely exhausting. those damn shelters would always prioritize the softer looking hybrids because 'he was tough, he'd be able to figure it out' and he'd be damned if he joined a rehabilitation program. he was in one when he was younger and he was not suffering through that ever again

so cut to present day, about a year and a half since he's been on his own, right?? and eventually he gives in, tired of dealing with all the bullshit he does and ends up applying for the rehabilitation program and he finds out its...actually a lot better ever since new people took over

after some stupid interviews that felt like a waste of time, he's placed with...you. some tiny thing that is surely gonna be scared shitless of him. yet you arent. it's weird, you're weird.

you're nice to him.

when he shows up to your home, a cozy lil place away from the city (he likes it...a lot, its calming) he realizes that he doesn't have much on him, just a few things in a backpack. but you fucking figured out what size he was in clothes and shoes and bought him things (you got him a damn heated blanket...he just got here and he already felt like a lil king).

hell, you even turned your guest room into a comfy space for the guy.

he's so fucking confused by you, you dont make any sense. but what really gets him? is when you present him with some...tiny, purple bunny plushy. he huffs when he looks at it, taking it from you.

"what the hell's this thing?"

"it's a bunny! i made it myself!"

"..."

"i know you probably went through a lot, so i made you something for comfort. i put lavender scent beads in it so it smells nice and calming too."

he doesn't say anything, just holds the thing in his hands. you...you made this. for him. because you wanted him to feel comforted.

...

you hear the faint noise of fabric moving and notice his tail is starting to wag behind him, and he knows it is. theres a cute lil blush on his face as he tries to make it stop but the more he glares at the dumb little bunny plush the harder his tail wags.

"...thanks."

"ehehe, welcome home, toji."

[aroaceleovaldez]

i already was seeing a lot of Jason with albinism stuff but there's been a significant uptick in it since the Thalia casting announcement and I wanted to say: please please PLEASE do actual research about albinism if you're gonna make headcanons about Jason being albino. I have already seen so much ignorant and ableist stuff about it because nobody is bothering to do any research and it's really annoying.

A couple of major notes:

There are different types of albinism!!!!! and no i'm not referring to vitiligo or etc. Just straight up albinism there are different types. There are two main types (oculocutaneous albinism types 1 and 2) plus ocular albinism, and then some other types as well that are even rarer. It is also possible to have only partial absence of melanin. (Vitiligo is a form of partial absence/loss of melanin, and often involves loss over time)

Albinism is a lack of melanin/pigmentation. This affects sensitivity to light and UV rays a LOT. Like a lot a lot. (This also applies to vitiligo btw! Melanin protects your skin from the sun, so a loss of melanin even in patches means those areas are more sensitive!)

Skin sensitivity to sunlight does not only apply to when it is sunny out. People with albinism have to take a lot of steps to protect their skin because they are SIGNIFICANTLY more susceptible to sun/UV damage. It doesn't matter if it's overcast, raining, snowing, whatever. They are putting on sunscreen, and they are putting on a lot of it. Sun protection can also come from just covering up. Big hats are also popular choices.

Sensitivity to light also applies in all environments. Transition glasses are common and sunglasses are common.

People with albinism do not have red irises. A lack of pigmentation in irises (referred to as ocular albinism) appears blue, usually a very light blue (less melanin/pigmentation in the eye, the lighter blue it appears). The red appearance comes from more light entering the eye than usual, causing a red eye effect like you see in flash photography except with the naked eye. This can make the iris appear slightly pink/red-tinted and will more often make the pupil look reddish instead of pure black because you are seeing into the eyeball itself and the muscles and veins within it. Not everyone with albinism has blue eyes depending on how much the pigmentation in their eyes is affected, but a lot of people do.

Albinism basically always includes the individual having vision problems, usually low vision or outright being legally blind. They are not completely blind but it is very likely they are legally blind. We're talking very thick glasses (though glasses don't always help because of what causes the low vision), requiring enlarged text, i know somebody who had a little glass block that magnified text underneath it and they used that a lot, etc etc. Depending on severity they may require other assistive devices. Albinism affects the optic nerve, so other eye conditions like strabismus and nystagmus (and more) are also extremely common if not a guarantee (nystagmus is basically always guaranteed).

Nystagmus, for those who don't want to bother googling it, is uncontrollable eye movement in the form of back and forth shaking. Strabismus is when your eyes don't align with each other. These also cause vision impairment.

If you are writing Jason as having poor vision from albinism, he would KNOW he needs glasses. Literally everybody should know he needs glasses/is blind. He would likely be legally blind and would have been pretty much his entire life. He would also almost definitely have other eye conditions as well. (Also rip Jason being raised by the wolves, poor guy is gonna have the WORST sunburn)

People with albinism have different skin tones! And different hair colors! A lack of pigmentation looks different depending on your individual genes and what type of albinism you have! Look up photo references!!!!!

There is also a lot of fetishization of albinism. PLEASE BE RESPECTFUL when you are making headcanons about it, or creating/designing characters who are albino.

Here's a couple of short tiktoks that go over some basic information and other stuff about albinism if visual-auditory learning is more your jam: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] (Kayla_lud has a lot of videos going over information about albinism)

okay now everybody take your notes and go tweak your headcanons yeah? yeah. okay good.

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Miscalculation

AN: I don't write nearly enough for Felix. Luckily, that SKZCode lab episode planted this idea in my head, and it's taken a viciously hold on me. Also, just to be super clear, despite Reader being a year old experiment, she's very much an adult. She came into the world that way. Also also, I edited this while sleepy so, hopefully it's coherent lol.

Synopsis: Your first heat hits you unexpectedly and violently one day. Thankfully, your favourite person pays you a visit in an attempt to comfort you through it. However, you both severely underestimate just how much your heat affects you. Especially around him.

General tags and warnings: Lee Felix x Fem! Reader, Scientist! Felix, Cat hybrid! Reader, lots of unethical research, Reader is an experiment, Felix tries his best to humanise Reader, doesn't really apply here but, since Reader is an experiment and Felix is a scientist there is the potential for a power imbalance, Reader is in heat, Reader is manipulative and maybe in love with Felix and not much plot.

Smut tags and warnings: heavy dubcon, mentions of masturbation and exploration of sexuality, virgin! Reader, kind of sort of fingering (f. receiving), humping/grinding, over the clothes touching, scent kink of sorts, clothes being ripped, nipple play (m. receiving), Reader takes charge a lot throughout this, little to no foreplay for Reader and a very unrealistic first time, piv sex without a condom, marking and clawing (m. receiving), biting (m. receiving), one mention of blood, possessiveness from Reader, dirty talk, praise and creampie.

Word count: 3.8k.

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

Everything burns. 

Your blankets are a crumpled mess on your floor because you're certain you'll shred them into pieces with your claws if they so much as touch your overheated body right now. The persistent buzz of the air conditioner brings you no comfort. Sweat dots your forehead and you'd take off the oversized shirt that clings to your body within an instant if Doctor Bang, red faced and avoiding your frustrated gaze, hadn't insisted on some sense of propriety. Aren't these men supposed to be doctors? Trained medical professionals? Have they never seen a naked body before? He's lucky that he's the only one out of the three older men that you can somewhat stomach because if Doctor Lee or Doctor Seo had suggested you cover yourself, you would have hissed and clawed at them. 

A frustrated noise builds from the back of your throat when you can feel your sheets starting to grow damp underneath you. You've already had to change them five times in the past two days and, you feel like you're losing your mind. Actually, you just might be. Worse than the burning that emanates through your entire body and the non-stop sweat that clings to your skin no matter how many ice-cold showers you take, is the perpetual ache between your thighs. You're not stupid. This lab may be all that you've known for the entire year of your life but, you have basic instincts and common sense. Coupled with all of the sessions you're forced to sit through with Doctor Bang in an attempt to understand you and aid you in understanding yourself, you're more than aware you're aroused right now. Or ‘wet’ as Doctor Lee and Doctor Seo put it, much to the dismay of the older of the three. 

You just don't understand why. 

In the rare moments that you've wondered about your sexuality and sex in these sterile walls, it's rarely gone beyond a few curious pokes and prods at yourself. It's mostly been a neutral experience and you didn't derive much pleasure out of it. You're sure your limited knowledge and experience on the matter has hindered your ability to enjoy masturbation much but, it's not as though the four men will just give you the material or knowledge to help pleasure yourself. You're not even sure you care all that much.

Except for when you do. Thinking back to quiet nights where the silence and loneliness of the lab was too much for your mind to handle and masturbation crossed it as a hope for distraction. A brief escape from the life you've been forced to endure. So, you tried it. Flashes of a kind smile and blonde hair making your stomach twist in a way that wasn't unpleasant, just unfamiliar. Full lips and memories of a deep voice causing arousal to trickle onto your inexperienced fingers. You'd even managed to make yourself orgasm once. It was one of the few sincerely pleasant moments you've had. 

The rest centred around him too. 

“–she's deep in heat right now, Lix.” You recognise the voice as that of Doctor Bang. Your ears twitch atop your head in interest at the conversation he's having with the only doctor you've grown fond of. You're always grateful for your hearing abilities in moments like these. 

“We can't just keep her in the dark,” Felix argues and your heart hammers loudly in your chest. Electricity zipping through you just at the sound of his voice and the knowledge that he's just beyond your bedroom door. The throbbing between your thighs worsens. 

“I know,” Doctor Bang sighs, “but, we won't be getting a shipment of suppressants until three days from now. We're just going to have to wait it out.” 

“We?” Comes Felix's incredulous reply, “We're not the ones suffering right now. I went to visit her last night Chris,” your eyes widen at the confession, “She was burning up and covered in sweat and, she's only had to deal with two days of it. You know it's not fair to her.” 

“What do you want us to do, Felix?” The older man argues, his voice heavy with frustration. 

“Treat her like a fucking person,” the younger man argues just as frustrated, “Tell her what's going on. We know she's incredibly smart. Maybe she has some biological way to make herself feel better that we haven't thought about or explored.” 

Silence stretches between the two for a few, long moments. 

“I don't think that's a good idea,” comes Doctor Bang's resigned reply, “Look Lix, I know that you care about her and the two of you have always been close. Too close for what could be considered appropriate,” you snort at that. Now he cares about ethics and what's appropriate? How funny. “But, Minho, Changbin and I care about her too. She's not just some experiment to us,” you find that hard to believe, “We just know when it's appropriate to step back and keep our distance. This is one of those times. We're going to try and help her through it as best as we can but, we're going to wait for the suppressants then feed them to her. That's it. End of discussion.” The sounds of footsteps echoing through the hallway are all that accompany his words. 

Well, at least you finally know what's wrong with you. You're in heat. Something they've apparently known you're capable of experiencing and have been suppressing since you gained consciousness. The fact that they're so blasé about letting you suffer in your room and wait days until you're able to find any kind of reprieve boils your blood in a way that has nothing to do with your biology. Yeah, so much for caring about you. You haven't even seen Doctor Seo and Doctor Lee since your symptoms first started. You don't even notice your claws prodding in your anger. You should have attempted to escape on those rare trips Felix had taken you outside of the lab. Consequences be damned. At least you'd have a shot at a normal life. You should have never let his warm eyes and compassion keep you coming back to this hellhole. 

Your furious, internal tirade is interrupted by your door sliding open. You don't have to turn around to know that it's Felix. His scent always betrays him before anything else. The familiar mix of bamboo and vanilla hit your senses. However, unlike the other times you'd bask in his scent, now it worsens the thundering of your heart and you notice the slick between your thighs increasing. 

“Hey,” he says gently, shutting the door behind him. All you can think to do is stare at your wall wide eyed as his scent grows closer with every step he takes towards your bed. Saliva begins to pool in your mouth just at the smell of him and the soft timber of his voice adds to the pit forming in your stomach. Your hands desperately grabbing at your arms in an attempt to calm you down. It's just Felix.  

“I just wanted to check up on you,” he adds when his greeting is met with silence. You have to fight extremely hard to not let your tail move wildly and to keep your claws retracted when he sits down on the edge of your bed. Fuck. He's so close now and his scent is overwhelming. The smell that used to bring you comfort now puts you on edge. A feeling that you've only felt sparks of now sets your entire body alight and the ache between your thighs starts to become unbearable. He needs to leave before your heat causes you to do something very, very stupid. 

“I know you've been struggling a lot lately,” the apologetic tone to his voice melts your heart and your impulses yell at you to crawl into his lap and nuzzle at him until he no longer sounds upset, “I'm sorry. We should have told you this when it started but, you're in heat. That's what's causing you to feel this way,” he explains, as though you hadn't overheard (more like intentionally listened in on) his conversation with Doctor Bang. 

“I know you're probably mad at us, at me,” you want to tell him no, you could never be mad at him but, you're afraid that if you speak now, you'll say something you can't take back, “I'm truly sorry. The suppressants will be here in a few days. Till then though, I'm here for you,” he says softly, laying a hand gently on your arm in what you assume is an act of comfort but, it has the complete opposite effect. 

Your blood turns molten in your veins and the fog that's been on the edges of your mind swallows it whole. All you can think about is getting your hands on him. Touching him. Feeling him. Mating with him. You've never felt more animal than human. 

One of the major perks of being a cat hybrid, you've come to learn, is your quick movements. Before Felix can process it, you're sitting up and pressed to his side within an instant. The confusion and concern on his handsome face is so endearing. He's so cute. You just want to devour him. 

“Felix,” your voice sounds near unrecognisable to even your own ears, “I want you to help me with my heat,” you practically purr into his shoulder. Grasping his arm and delighting in the pretty flush that spreads across his face. The ache of your canines extending doesn't bother you in the slightest. Your mind focused on nothing else but, the man that's been your lifeline for the past year. 

“I–I um I ca–can't do that,” he explains, his voice sounding strained. His attempt to pull his arm away proves to be futile. Not that he was trying particularly hard anyway. “But, Lix,” you whine, pushing your body closer to his, your breasts pressing against his arm, “Didn't you say you'd help me?” 

The way he attempts to stammer out a reply just makes him so much cuter to you. Nothing but, instinct driving you to press yourself even closer to him. Delighting in the shudder you feel run through his body when your breath hits his exposed neck. “Don't you want to help me, Felix?” You ask with a desperate edge to your hoarse voice, one of your hands travelling down the span of his lab coat until you reach his soft hand. Moving it until it's between your slick covered, inner thighs, “It hurts, Lix.” 

Felix, for his part, looks absolutely shell-shocked. Warm, panicked brown eyes staring at you unblinkingly but, he doesn't move his hand. Not even when your own is no longer holding it. Your body moves on its own. Hips chasing the brush that his fingers offer. Your lashes fluttering at the pleasure courses through you. You feel so sensitive, even his barely there touch is enough to cause you to gush further onto his fingers. 

And Felix watches it all. Watches the way you clumsily try to hump his fingers. Watches the minute expressions of relief and desire and frustration that all cross your beautiful face. Watches the way your canines sink into your bottom lip. Feels the way your sharp claws dig into his lap coat. He doesn't miss a thing. 

Impulse and maybe a fraction of ration desire push you to tug on his button up shirt and kiss him. You're moving completely on what feels natural and what you've seen a couple of movies he's watched with you. It takes him a second to kiss you back. Tentatively following the movements of your lips and guiding you in more comfortable and enjoyable directions. You swallow his stuttered groan greedily when your tongue invades his mouth. Searching for more of him to explore. To taste. To burn into your memory. 

As nice as it feels to kiss him like you've thought about far too many times in the silence of your room and, use his fingers and hand to help satiate the persistent ache that sits in the pit of your stomach, it still all isn't enough. Not even close. This time, you moan into his mouth when one of your hands snakes its way down the front of his body until it comes to rest on his lap. A particularly painful throb coming from the apex of your thighs when you feel how hard he is beneath your touch. 

“So you do want this just as much as I do,” you sigh dreamily against his lips, sparks of desire shooting through your entire body with every palm of your hand over his clothed cock. All of his adorable, little noises making your walls clench. You don't think you've ever felt pain like this in your entire, short life. Saliva pools in your mouth as his scent wafts to you. Much heavier and headier than earlier. Beneath the anxiety and fear, the arousal makes its presence known clear as day. 

“W–Wait, I–” Whatever he was going to say is cut short by you shoving him onto your bed. His wide eyes, pupils blown out and completely swallowing his irises, meeting your lidded ones as he watches you straddle his slender hips. You've always thought he was a good-looking man but, he looks even better like this, underneath you. 

Your eyes practically roll into the back of your head when you press down on him. Your drenched folds coming in contact with the evident bulge in his dress pants. Resting your palms on his stomach, you start to move. Chasing the friction against your clit desperately. Not caring all about the mess you're making of his pants. Your eyes focused on watching the way he tries very, very hard not to lose himself in the way you grind against him. His hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as he lays there and let's you use him. 

Fuck. What a cutie. 

His eyes shoot to your face when you use your claws to rip his blue button up open. While the colour looks absolutely lovely on him, you much prefer the sight of his bare chest. Your tongue running over your teeth at all the skin that you now have access to. 

“He–Hey, I think we should calm d–down a bit and–” Felix tries to interject, the drop in octave of his voice doesn't go unnoticed by you. You disregard his words easily. Leaning down to shut him up with your mouth while your hands busy themselves with exploring his chest. Your canines nipping his bottom lip when he gasps into you while you trace his nipples with your claws. Sensitive too. Perfect. 

“Why stop when I can feel how hard you are for me, Lixie?” You whisper against his full lips, fingers tracing random patterns into his nipples. His hips jutting up to meet your drenched core every time you touch him a little too harshly or drag yourself along his entire length. 

“Don't you want to just give in?” You ask, meeting his blown out eyes as your hands move their way along his lithe body until they reach his belt buckle. 

“I–I–” he stutters out when you sit back up so you can gain a better view of his frustrating belt. He must see you preparing to rip his pants off too because he stops you immediately, “I–It's okay, I got um it,” he quickly responds. You shift down him a little to provide him with space to unbuckle his belt. Fortunately, he doesn't take too long. You're sure your impatience is rolling off of you in waves. 

Much to your surprise given how bashful he's been, he tugs his pants and boxers down in one go. His hard, pre-cum covered cock slapping against his stomach in his rush, his eyes pointedly looking at everywhere but, you. 

It's one thing to feel him, it's a whole different matter entirely to have his cock right there, ready for the taking. And take, you do. It's adorable how red his face is and the way he sneaks glances at you shyly when you shift back up his body until your dripping pussy is hovering over his twitching cock. Your shirt sticks to your damp body uncomfortably and, the reminder that you're still wearing it is an unwelcome one. So, you simply tug it off. Exposing yourself freely and readily to his shy eyes. 

Not that he's all that shy when you're bare for him to fully drink in. Bruised lips parting as he watches you grasp his cock with an impatient hand and align it with your dripping hole. He doesn't stop you when you begin to sink down onto him. Strained whimpers falling from his pretty mouth with every inch you eagerly swallow. The stretch only stings a little. The sensation of his scorching cock dragging along your walls more than makes up for it. It's your turn to moan once he's fully sheathed inside of you. Your clumsy attempts with your fingers don't hold a candle to this. 

The way Felix chokes on your name when you start to move will forever be etched into your memory. The pleasure clear as day on his face spurs you along with the desire to feel him inside of you for as long as you can. To make love with him in this awful place that only he gave any semblance of meaning to. To mate with him. 

You lose yourself in the way his cock feels easily. Fluttering lashes threatening to shut every time he hits a spot inside of you that makes your pace falter and your claws dig into his soft stomach. The faint, pink lines that decorate his skin cause you to preen. They look gorgeous on his skin. They look like they belong there. Like they were meant to be there. Based on the way his hooded eyes switch from watching the expressions your face morphs into, the way your breasts bounce with every movement on his cock and the way you swallow as much of him as you can, you don't think he minds or cares all that much. 

Your skin grows impossibly hotter when his hands touch you. He's careful. Watching for any discomfort but, there's none to be found. If anything, you revel in the gentle hold his hands take of your hips. Not controlling your movements but just enjoying touching you while you bounce on his cock. 

You might actually love him. 

The thought prompts you to lean down and smash your lips to his once more. The metallic tang of blood lets you know that you nipped him too hard but he doesn't care all that much. Letting you take everything you need from him right now while he lets you. You can feel the way he throbs inside of you. He tries to stop himself but, you notice the way his hips sometimes jerk up to meet you, to move with you. And the knowledge that, on some level, he wants you just as much as you want him sends you into overdrive. 

His sharp inhale echoes through your room when you sink your canines into his neck. The punctures aren't deep but, they're more than enough to satisfy you. You're not sure why or how you knew to do that but, instinct has been your driving force all night and you're going to continue to trust it. 

“We're mated now,” you sigh, thumbing his flushed cheek. 

He just looks up at you for a moment, attempting to digest your words before responding, “Mate–Mated?” 

“Mmm,” you hum in confirmation, purring when you notice the way his twitches like crazy inside of you, “You're my mate now, and I'm yours,” you explain breathlessly. A tension you're barely familiar with building in the pit of your gut that you chase. 

“But we fuck can't–” his sentence is cut off by the drawn out moans from the depths of his chest, his eyes rolling into the back of his head when you pick up your pace. He looks so attractive like this. A bruise already forming on his neck and his chest littered with faint marks from your claws. He's gorgeous. 

“I'm ah cl–close,” he gasps out, his glazed eyes meeting yours and his hands desperately gripping your hips, “You need to shit st–stop,” he manages to stutter out. You think it's amusing that he thinks you're going to stop now. Especially when you're just about to get what you want. Leaning down to his ear, you whisper, “Why, Lixie? You look so cute like this. Why would I ever want to stop?” You smile when you hear the way he whimpers and his cock pulses harder inside of you, “Don't you want to cum inside me?” His hold on you grows tighter, “I want you to. I want you to cum inside me until it's spilling out of me,” you emphasise your point by intentionally clenching around him, “For days.” 

That's all it takes for him to break. His cock throbbing as he shoots his cum into the deepest part of you. A mix of his whimpers and strangled moans of your name tickle your ears as his cum fills your eagerly awaiting pussy. Your tail swishes in glee and your ears twitch in happiness. Your own orgasm creeping up on you when you feel the last of his cum spill into you. Truly, the late nights alone in your bed could never compare to this. To him. Your first orgasm could never hold a candle to this. Your entire body is riddled with quivers and shakes, your wetness gushing onto Felix's softening cock. Your thighs are sticky with cum and you're drenched in sweat but, you've never been more at peace. 

For some time, your shared laboured breathing is the only sound in your room. Fondness bubbles up inside of you when you glance at his flushed, sweaty face. His golden hair sticking to his forehead while he takes some time to come back to himself. Your fingers move before you can even think about it. The fog retreating slightly while you play with his hair and enjoy the simple pleasure of watching him while your combined releases trickle out of you. Much to your displeasure.  

You smile at him when he finally blinks his eyes open to meet yours. Your fingers ghosting over his mate mark as something primal and affectionate simmers in the pit of your stomach. He really is yours now. Your tail wraps around his leg without you even noticing. 

The smile he gives you is small but, it's still one of his smiles and the way your heart hammers in your chest lets you know he really was meant to be your mate. 

Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Do not repost, edit, copy and/or translate my work. I do not give you my permission to do so, nor will you ever receive it.

Stray Kids Masterlist | Ko-Fi

[callmerainman]

Alastor in a relationship with a pure hearted s/o

a/n. the relationship can be interpreted as queerplatonic or even romantic if you wish, but not sexual in any nature. hope Alastor is not ooc!

tw! canon typical violence

"cuddled up with a heart condemned, I should love you and I swear I do"

it's true that Alastor is touch averse, but this doesn't apply if it's you we're talking about.

also, we saw that Alastor dislikes physical touch only when it's someone else getting handsy with him. he can be pretty touchy if he wants to and likes to be close to you.

sneaking an arm around your waist, putting his hands on your shoulders, pecking your forehead. also, arms intertwined while walking around the city.

hand holding is more occasional, but not excluded at all.

he likes the sound of your laugh, and has a soft spot for your smile. he thinks that it suits you so well like a perfect-chosen accessory.

veeery protective. he knows you can be naïve and that Hell loves to take advantage of more innocent inhabitants.

he prefers to go with you when you have to leave the Hotel and strikes deathly smiles to anyone who dares to look at you with any kind of intention.

you're the only person who can see him drop his smile sometimes. he doesn't have to use it as a tool when you're around so there's no reason for him to always keep it. he doesn't feel vulnerable around your presence.

sometimes he comes back to the Hotel covered in blood. you don't approve his ways, and he knows, but he's just like this.

you shrug your shoulders, sigh, and then take some towels to clean him up.

"you'll end up ruining your coat and your pretty face like this"

loooves to dance with you. swing dancing specifically. maybe to the rhythm of an upbeat jazz tune in your room.

you were completely wack at dancing the Charleston, but he taught you well since he's an absolute beast at it.

you occasionally slow dance, it's a really intimate moment for you and Alastor and makes you both feel closer to each other. your favourite spot to slow dance is the forest in his room, especially at night under a clear and starry sky.

you like to drink together, he's a classy type of drunk and you make the best conversations while sharing a glass together.

sometimes, he'll start ruminating about the possibility of you redeeming yourself and leaving the Hotel.

he doesn't like ruminating, it makes him feel weird because he doesn't believe in redemption in the first place. so case closed...right?

he says to himself that even if you were to be, he would find a way to let you stay.

but he immediately tells himself that he doesn't want to force you. but he also starts to get concerned because it's not like him to contain himself and his cold heart. more ruminating, more concerned Alastor.

he's aware that he cares about you, and that you're special to him and that he feels a deep rooted love. but he never thought it would affect his evilness and now he's confused.

you like to cook for him, since you're aware that he's a huge foodie. and he loves to do the same for you! he likes to share his mom's recipes.

loves to call you "my darling"

you like to hang out at his radio tower, just listening to him intently while he hosts a program.

sometimes even asks you to join in to talk about jazz!

very occasionally sleeping together, just holding your hands with fingers intertwined.

honestly Alastor doesn't even know what love is, but he just knows that he feels it for you.

[ravixen]

can you do one wherein they're on a variety show and someone asks about your relationship?? (they are publicly dating) With Seungcheol, Wonwoo, Minghao and Vernon?

svt + variety show asks about idol!s/o

➔ reaction || requested || idol!y/n

➔ warnings: none || 0.6k words ➔ notes: fluff ; this prompt feels like it'd go well with my previous posts "svt + sending a video message on a show" from 2022 and 2023! I originally wrote this for a non-idol!y/n before I realized that by "publicly dating," you probably meant an idol s/o so I redid it. I had a little trouble thinking of situations since the prompt was broad, but it was still fun to write. might do another part with the more open members. please reblog if you liked it!!

SEUNGCHEOL: if he was promoting with his members, he wouldn't even entertain the question; working as part of a team matters a lot to him, and as the group leader, he has to set an example. but today he's doing a solo interview and lets himself be more open. when the hosts ask about you, he absolutely tries his best to hide his initial reaction, but he can't help the smile that automatically appears at the mention of your name. he attempts to play it off with an arrogant hair ruffle that fools no one. literally so embarrassing. "am I happy? ...yeah, I'd say so." he laughs. "why would I say no? all of my important people are healthy and living their best life." he doesn't share too many details about you, just to protect your privacy, but he'd be proud to promote any of your recent achievements, regardless of your occupation.

WONWOO: he's a private person, so while he is technically dating in the public eye, there's not much known about your relationship; that's exactly why the show hosts are taking advantage of this opportunity to grill him about you. but he evades their questions with the practiced grace of someone who's had media training, dancing right in front of the answers they're looking for. he looks so at ease: crossed arms, leaned back, a hint of a smile on his lips. but perhaps it's due to this false sense of security that, when they bring out the big guns, it knocks him off-balance. they have pictures. nothing incriminating. it's just embarrassing to see his affection collaged like this: peeks of you as his lockscreen, him dancing in the crowd at your street performance, him staring affectionately at your back as you order from a food truck...yeah, they caught him with it all.

MINGHAO: he's an extremely private person—I'd argue even more so than wonwoo—so he warned the program beforehand that he wouldn't answer any questions about you, other than to confirm that yes, you are still happily together. they agree...and of course scheme ways to get around that. so instead of asking about you directly, they decide to reference you a few times throughout the shooting to catch his reaction. maybe your song as a random dance or screenshots of your show as memes. they have audacity, he'll give them that. if he was a lesser man or earlier into his career, he'd cave and play into their wants, but neither of those apply to him so he smiles every time, ignoring the references, until they get bored and move on. then, at the end of the shoot, they ask if he has any closing words. "thanks for promoting their work so seriously," he says with a sarcastic bow.

VERNON: he's yet another private person (do you have a type), though not through conscious choice like minghao. he's publicly dating and has nothing to hide, but he's not the type to flaunt personal matters so he just doesn't. obviously his friends and family know the important details, but beyond that, he doesn't see the point in sharing information with people that don't really know him. so when the hosts ask him about his relationship, it catches him off-guard. he fully blinks and stares at the host until someone breaks the silence with an awkward laugh. "unless you two broke up?" they offer tentatively. "no, we're still together. it's been, uh, it's been good. great." he nods. "we actually went to see a movie yesterday." and the hosts sit there waiting for him to continue, and he's staring back at them like. that's all I wanted to say...are we moving on?

[uravitypng]

pseudo/faux - brother & sister ((toru-nii?)) ??? -oikawa x chubby reader HEAR ME OUT GUYS TORU WOULD HAVE THESE PERVERTED FEELINGS ABOUT SOMEONE WHO GREW UP TOGETHER LIKE SIBLINGS !!! (i've been thinking about this for the last couple days so i had to write it but go easy on me, first time writing this concept.) (there's probably mistakes in this, i wrote it before bed, i'm sleepy, sdfgchjvs)<3 (dark content)(MDNI -18+)(always check the warnings on my writing)

you're the younger sister of hajime by a year and you've been close since you were kids, you were his number one supporter. even though you were a year apart you spent a lot time together because you didn't have many friends you had joined the volleyball team as the manager so you could spend more time with him.

because of hajime it meant that you grew up surrounded by toru as well. you were so close you even called him toru-nii, he was like family, an older brother like hajime but toru didn't see you like that, not anymore...

once he had been your protector from bullies and your tutor to help you pass difficult classes you didn't understand but that was a long time ago now, you're not kids anymore.

in your eyes he's still your toru-nii, just like hajime is your nii-san. people say you need to stop calling them such childish nicknames now that you're in your adulthood but you ignore them, it doesn't sound right coming out of your mouth when you call them their names.

toru doesn't know when his feelings started to change towards you, he doesn't know when his innocent feelings became warped, when he started to feel guilty. all he knows is just one day you came running up to him wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him, your soft body pressing against him, you hadn't seen each other in weeks since you've both been so busy and barely had any contact at all through texts. oikawa hugged your back just as tightly that day.

all he knows is that day something changed within him, he wanted to hug you all the time, wanted you on your lap. he wanted you to go to every single game of his and wear his oversized jersey, imaging how it would cling to your round frame. he wanted to kiss your chubby cheeks and take you to fancy restaurants. he wants you.

it became a problem that day, you grabbing his hand to take him where you want to go while you call his toru-nii, that should have stopped his feelings in his tracks but it didn't- he got hard. that was the thing that made him guilty, you referring to him as toru-nii made him aroused. he wanted you to call him it again, straight after.

an innocent nickname turned into something more.

to you nothing changed though, you didn't ever think of him differently. you knew girls fawned over him and objectively you understand why but it's weird for you to think about for too long. back at school some of your classmates would say how jealous they are of you because you get to spend so much time with oikawa and you agreed that you were lucky to spend time with him, just for completely different reasons.

what toru didn't realise is his feelings towards you weren't something that he was suppose to feel even when you were both younger. he excused it as an big brother being protective just like iwa is but it wasn't the same. it's not normal to disguise subtle threats with a smile whenever someone got a bit to close up and personal with you asking for your number, he wouldn't want them to hurt your feelings. it's not normal for him to offhandedly make a comment in front of a large group of people about someone who upset you, if a rumour gets spread around school about that person then so well. he did this all platonically of course... hajime would have done exactly the same... right?

so was it really a surprise that late at night he couldn't help himself but stroke his cock, bucking his hips up to meet his hand. wet sounds echo around the room and toru lightly applies more pressure when his hand hits the base of his pelvis. his other hand holds onto his sheet tightly as he groans and moans picturing you there with him.

he starts talking like you're there with him, imagining you bouncing on his cock and your plump figure laying underneath him. stomach rolls squished together when when he's pushed your legs up against your chest and body jiggling with each thrust.

"feels so good baby, you make me feel so good. i know- ffuck- i know i'm big baby but you can take it, can't you. let toru-nii look after you." as soon as he says 'let toru-nii look after you' he cums with a moan of your name.

with every single night that passes he feels less guilty. this weekend you're planning to stay at his for a few days instead of getting a hotel. oikawa knows his walls aren't very thick. 'maybe she'll decide to help her poor toru-nii out. maybe she loves her toru-nii like i love her.'

[kirain]

Sigh....Galemancers really love to move the goal post when it comes to the grooming accusations huh? You found out Gale was a fully grown MAN when Mystra slept with him so now you have to say, "Well then he was emotionally groomed and the power dynamic is too vast." Mystra is a neutral good goddess because she's Midnight, who was a neutral good human. She hates that her magic has to be used for good and evil. Ao makes her share it evenly but she'd rather not. She would never do anything to hurt Gale. The writers of the game even confirmed she's not a groomer. People like you also downplay the point of Gale's entire story arc, which is he should've listened to Mystra! The whole point of his personal quest is he needs to learn to humble himself and listen to his goddess! He has no one to blame for his downfall but himself.

There's no "post" to move, anon. The game and lore give us all the context we need. Grooming doesn't only apply to children, and people have proven right and left that Mystra is terrible at relationships. She's petty and abusive when she isn't obeyed by her partners, and that's been the case with all of her iterations. Even the narrator describes her as a "jealous goddess" when you visit her shrine. Plus, your information is wrong on many accounts; the most pertinent being that the Mystra of BG3/5E isn't technically Midnight. Cyric and Shar killed her, reducing her to her godly essence (lore-wise that means she died). The current Mystra is an amalgamation of the vestiges of Mystryl, Mystra, and Midnight, as told in the novel Elminster Enraged.

Now, this is about to get complicated, as it always does with Mystra, so from here on out I'll be referring to Mystra #1 as Mystryl, Mystra #2 as Mystra #2, Mystra #3 as Midnight, and Mystra #4 as 5E Mystra. Alright, let's get started.

Elminster had to reform the fallen goddess by giving her fragments of all three iterations of Mystra. Since all three iterations are combined, our current 5E Mystra embodies the good, the bad, the beautiful, and the ugly. There's even a conversation with The Simbul (one of the Seven Sisters and a Chosen of Mystra) where the newly reformed 5E Mystra speaks of Elminster as her "longest lover". This puzzles The Simbul because that was something of the old Mystra (Mystra #2), not Midnight. The new 5E Mystra replies that she has become a combination of the memories of Mystryl, Mystra #2, and Midnight. This is all in chapter 25-30 of Elminster Enraged. I know it's confusing, but in short: 5E Mystra is not Midnight anymore, and the leading mind is clearly that of Mystra #2, hence her extremely poor judgement—a recurring theme with her character.

Mystryl and Mystra #2 were originally lawful neutral. The alignment changed to neutral good when Midnight took up the mantle, because Midnight herself was a neutral good person. But now it seems 5E Mystra is true neutral, because you are right, anon; Ao won't allow her to do whatever she wants. Midnight tried and was forbidden. 5E Mystra absolutely does not have the same level of humanity or kindness as Midnight, and that may be because Mystryl had no human consciousness and Mystra #2 was a mess.

Regardless of her alignment, she must embody her domain by Ao's decree, which means she needs to spread magic across all Realmspace. Since she has to maintain the balance, she approaches good, neutral, and evil mages with potential opportunities. This isn't a criticism (that's just how godhood works), but rather proof that Mystra is absolutely capable of good and bad. I don't want to hear any more of this "she's a precious little bean and Gale's victim" nonsense. Even if she wants to be, she's not. As Kikitakite said in their post, she's done some fucked up things.

Whether or not the writers intended to make Mystra a groomer, that's exactly what they did. Sometimes writers don't realise they've written an abusive character until they're criticised. Take writer of The Notebook, Nicholas Sparks, for example. He didn't realise he'd written Noah to be an abusive piece of shit until Ryan Gosling pointed it out himself. Gosling has gone on record many times to say he hates Noah, and experts have labeled him an unrealistic and emotionally abusive/manipulative character. The same can be said for Stephenie Meyer, who wrote some of the most celebrated toxic relationships in recent media—with a dash of borderline pedophilia on the side. Therapists have weighed in extensively to tell people that Bella and Edward's relationship isn't healthy and shouldn't be emulated in real life. Indeed, perhaps the best thing to come out of the entire franchise is Robert Pattinson's hatred of Edward and the series as a whole. Jacob's actor, Taylor Lautner, even argued with Meyer's on set because of how weird the "imprinting" segment was and he didn't want to come off as predatory. Meyer argued it was "romantic". 😕

Even if you don't agree Gale was groomed, Mystra is flagrantly responsible for his insecurities and she never should've put her hands on him. The power dynamic is too vast, and even god Gale (conceited as he is) realises it by the end. He only stays in a relationship with Tav if they allow him to ascend them alongside him as his equal. He recognises that anything else would be unhealthy and unacceptable. Also, I researched high and low regarding your claim, but none of the devs have dispelled the idea that Mystra is a groomer. In fact, the most I could find was one dev simply saying, "To Gale it was love, but he didn't know any better." If anything, that only confirms he was confused and didn't know what to do. Their "relationship" was a stunningly horrible idea from the start and that's not on Gale, it's on the literal cosmic being who initiated it.

Moreover, Gale was very likely 17 when Mystra revealed herself to him. This perfectly fits into the 5E Forgotten Realms timeline. If so, no, he absolutely wasn't a grown man. He was a teenager. Mystra may not have slept with him until he was in his 20's, but that still makes it a disgusting teacher-turned-lover situation. Gale even tells us he was "young" when she took him into her fold, and he was only eight years old when Elminster started their lessons. Remember, Elminster is Mystra's biggest apologist. He would've taught Gale to revere her, which means there was almost never a point in his life when Mystra wasn't the main focus. You can tell by the way he speaks about her in Act 1. He's in awe, he's excited, he's proud she chose him. That does something to a child. Something irreversible. If anything, Elminster is complicit in what happened. I've said this before, but he couldn't even be bothered to visit Gale himself. He sent a simulacrum.

As for your accusation that I'm "downplaying" Gale's story arc—you're damn right I am, because the writers made me! Most D&D players I know aren't very happy with how Mystra is portrayed in the game, and that's probably because even they know she isn't presented in a very flattering light. If you really think about it, it's obvious what the writers were going for, but they failed. For example, you said Gale should've listened to Mystra, right? Well, in Act 1 he admits his ambition was his undoing, blames himself for his downfall, and by Act 2 he's literally ready to off himself for her. In fact, he's the only one who sees her ultimatum as justified. Every other companion says she's being cruel and unreasonable. If Gale actually blows himself up at the end of Act 2, the results are catastrophic. The brain is destroyed, yes, but the tadpoles, free of the Absolute's control, complete their transformation and infect/enslave the entire Sword Coast. Anon. She. Is. Stupid. Even the Narrator is like, "You wanna ... you wanna try that again?"

The entirety of Act 2 is Gale learning he shouldn't listen to Mystra. And then she has the audacity to lecture him in Act 3? If he'd listened, it would've been the end of everything. Maybe if Mystra was as infallible as she pretends to be, she would've put her three brains together and came up with a better, less vindictive plan. Because make no mistake, she wanted Gale to blow up in Act 2, which is ridiculous. I know this is an uncomfortable topic for some people, but gods aren't perfect, especially in fiction. They're flawed. They're selfish. Some of them are straight up assholes. The real irony of Gale's arc isn't that he has no one to blame but himself, it's that Mystra should blame herself. At no point does she even consider if she's being unreasonable or unfair. There's no self reflection whatsoever. And the writers expect me to think Gale's full of himself? I wonder where he got it.

Probably from his teacher. ✋🎤

[daenysx]

“just imagine having aemond as your boss. i would cry at every corner”

i need a ceo aemond fic immediately please love love love ur writing x

i think this could have an angsty theme but you know i'm not really capable of writing something like that :( i just used it as an opportunity to write about having a secret relationship with your boss modern!aemond who's nice only to you <3333

i hope you like it, your opinions matter a lot, i'll be waiting for your comments on this!!

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader, nsfw. -wc; 2.4k

blurred boundaries

mr. targaryen has a pretty face. you can't look at him for more than 5 seconds.

he has this piercing gaze that makes you wanna curl up in your bed and scream into the pillow, the smirks he sometimes rewards you with have the same effect. you look at the bathroom mirror. you need some lip gloss.

the office is crowded today. physically it can't be too crowded because mr. targaryen hates when people stay more than they're needed. somehow everything got together today, too many calls have been made. your boss is getting more tense each minute, you can feel that much. he looks at people like they are only useless liabilities.

you try fix your hair, using two minutes of bathroom break. applying a fresh layer of your lip gloss to feel better, adjusting your skirt to stay straight on your waist. you leave the bathroom.

mr. targaryen calls for you. it's the fifth time today and it's not even noon. you step into his room. he's fuming like a restless dragon in front of the giant windows of his office.

"mr. targaryen?" you approach him slowly.

he lifts his head to see you. you're not sure what he wants, who he wants to be this time. are you supposed to say something more? the boundaries get blurry.

"come here." he says with a low voice. his left hand is extended to you. "come."

you've always admired his voice ever since you started working for him. he has a way of controlling it so well, when he wants to be sweet or when he wants to claim his authority. he never shouts unless he's over the edge, he can make people listen what he says without raising his voice. it's more attractive than it's supposed to be.

you take a few steps to close the distance.

"don't get shy on me now." he says, taking your hand. "no one will see."

"i just-" you don't know what to say. "you look upset."

aemond puts your hand on his chest to keep you there. the scent of his cologne surrounds you, you breathe him in. he holds his hand on yours, his free hand reaches for your waist.

"i can't stand people's idiocity." he tells you, his neck bent like a dragon searching for a bond. "i don't want to see any more of them."

"you don't have to." you say, coming closer to him boldly. "you're the boss."

he gives you a smile and that's the end of it. it's his fault, he started it. you're definitely not responsible for-

"you can't kiss me here." he reminds you. he's insufferable.

you take a step back. if he doesn't want a kiss that's fine. you're not the one who's restless and unable to calm down because of some customers.

"you should let me go then." you say. "i have things to do."

"is that so?" he devilishly smirks. "i thought you said i'm the boss."

"so what?"

"so the boss wants you to stay here." he answers. "and you will stay here."

"mr. targaryen-"

"don't get upset with me, sweetheart." he says. "we're in the office."

you huff quietly. he's messing with your head, he always does that. he makes a move and when you give him an answer he says you can't. you wanna scream, you wanna punch him. you wanna kiss him.

"fine." you say. "anything i can do for you then, sir?"

aemond squeezes your fingers. you know it's a weakness, calling him sir or by his last name. you know it makes him lightheaded, his breath hitched. you want him to suffer in a way just like he makes you suffer.

"you want to play with me, is that it?"

"i have no intention to do anything." you say. "you know, this conversation could go so well if you could let me give you one kiss. you're calling me here, get me so close to you, and when i want to kiss, you-"

aemond pulls you to himself to shut you up. his lips move against yours, curving so sweetly. you suck his bottom lip, close your eyes with your hand on his waist. the distance between you disappears, aemond parts his lips to deepen the kiss. you let out a shaky breath.

"no-" you say when he separates his lips from yours. "please."

he kisses you again, cupping the back of your head to angle your face. it's a nice kiss. you like his kisses in the middle of the day, a beneficial motivation to keep working.

"good?" he asks, cheekily. "i kiss you and you go back to being my good girl, is that it?"

"you can't say that when we're working."

"are we working right now?"

"fine." you huff. "when we're in your office."

"you look so pretty in that skirt." he says suddenly. "and um- i ruined your lips."

you cover your lips. you forgot you applied lip gloss, and aemond takes pride in making a mess as he always does. he kisses your cheek, taking your hand off your mouth.

"can i see you tonight?" he asks. "after this dreadful day ends?"

you nod. "if i can finish on time." you say, thinking all the mails you need to answer. "you know, you're not the only person i'm responsible to."

"do you hear what you're saying?" he says, kissing the soft skin below your ear. "you can't get mad at me for calling you my good girl when that's exactly what you are."

"aemond-"

a knock on his door interrupts your words. aemond leaves you, his thumb quickly fixing the lip gloss stain on your cheek. you step back as he kisses your knuckles for one last time. "after everyone leaves. meet me here."

he calls out for the person outside, you leave the room with confident steps. no one can know anything. you need to go to the bathroom again to fix your appearance.

during the day you can hear aemond's stern voice, your table is close to his door. you try to pay attention to work as much as you can, it's hard sometimes having him so close but not being able to be next to him all day. you still need to focus, though, you can't not keep your job just to have him.

it's not really an affair, what you have with aemond. you aren't sure if you can call him your boyfriend now, it's been more than a month since he first made a move. you're his lover, that much is clear. he wants to see you in his apartment, spend his free minutes with you in his office. he tries so hard to keep his hands to himself to stay secret for your reputations. you're not so different.

the hours pass by. your co-workers start leaving their spots. aemond is still in his room, he didn't come out, not even for lunch. you know he's even more tense than he was when you were in his room. you wait patiently until the last person leaves the office.

you knock on his door, his voice comes out exhausted. "can i lock the door?" you ask. he nods. just in case no matter what time it is.

you approach him, he turns his chair to get you to his lap. you settle down on his thighs gently, he pulls you to lean on his chest. "you had so much to do today, hmm?" he asks. it's his soft tone, the one he uses when he's sick of his company and his job, when he only wants to take care of you. "you look tired."

"you should see yourself." you say. his chest moves with a quiet laugh.

he rubs a big hand on your back. "are you hungry?" he asks. you shake your head.

"you should be hungry. you didn't have anything for lunch." you say.

"i'm hungry." he whispers against your lips. "i've been starved all day."

"aemond-"

"the day exhausted me, sweetheart. my head's pounding with their stupid voices, all complaining, all talking out of their asses. i don't have the energy to play games with you now."

you feel a gentle rush of wave on your chest. he has a lot of responsibilities, needs a get away from them. you're the same in a way. running your fingers through his long hair, you watch him closing his eye. his lips part when your fingertips rub his scalp.

giving him a small kiss first, you angle his head the way you need. he kisses you back, hands on your waist to keep you steady. his fingers play with your skirt, your hands get lost in his hair to keep him pressed against you.

just when he moves to kiss your neck, you breathe in his name. no one would believe aemond targaryen to be a gentle man in bed, you think. people are terrified of him most of the time, he looks dangerous and intimidating. he wants to be feared and respected, he's both. he's also a nice man when he wants to be, with you.

"maybe we should leave." you say, his lips on the curve of your neck. "your apartment- oh!"

his teeth make a mark on your skin, you are pulled against him without meaning to. he kisses the mark, lips soothing the ache.

"we can leave." he says. "after i make you come on that couch."

"aemond-" you start protesting but he takes you in his arms, leaving his chair to get you on the couch in his office.

"i need it." he says, sternly. "you're not gonna keep your voice down, you hear me? i'll hear everything i do to you."

you nod. he parts your thighs to settle down between them.

"words." he demands.

"i won't keep quiet." you say, laying down properly.

"good." aemond says. he kisses your knee.

pulling your panties aside, not bothering to take them off, he takes in the sight of your cunt. you try to take calm breaths but it's hard when he's looking at you like a starved man. you adjust your hips to get his hands on you.

"already getting wet for me." he whispers.

"you- you neglected me." you say, voice shaking. "for the past week."

"i suppose i did." he says, putting his fingers on your cunt. "i guess i should apologise properly."

he kisses your inner thigh before moving his fingers slowly to open your cunt for him. he teases your entrance, a thumb on your poor clit. he starts giving you a few gentle rubs on the nub, you moan his name when he presses a bit harder. "mm-hmm." you hum, satisfied. "please."

he puts a finger inside slowly, trying to increase your wetness. you move against him, clenching once around his long finger. "what's that?" he asks, his cock getting hard against his suit pants. "not enough for you?"

you clench involuntarily again, his thumb presses insistently. "no." he says. "i guess not."

another finger inside, you get wetter each second. he numbs your brain, your mind shutting off slowly. he moves his fingers in you with a perfect pace, searching, searching.

you make a louder noise when he hits it. he's the devil.

"there it is." he says, lips curled in satisfaction. "i know you like the back of my hand."

"you should-" you start, thoughts linger in your mind. "you should do something then."

"i think," he says, stops moving his hand. "you have forgotten your manners. you should be nice if you want something."

"aemond." you whisper, your eyes are closed. your breathing quickens, you are so close. "please. please. i need you back."

he puts his hand where it belongs but he's slower this time. "don't rush." he says. "we have time."

"i just-" you're so close to your tears, or your orgasm. you have no control over your body. "please."

aemond is throughly satisfied. he keeps his pace quick and hard on you, fucking his fingers into you with a rough thumb on your clit. you move against him deliciously, he rubs his desperate cock on your thigh. he gets faster, hitting your sweet spots all at once. it's hard to believe he was only your boss weeks ago.

you hold onto his free wrist as you come. you're whining, pressing yourself to him, nails digging into his skin. his name falls from your lips, he watches the liquid coating his fingers with a fascinated expression.

he's still hard against your leg but he doesn't care about it. not when you're almost passing out on him, not when you look so soft. he's taking pride in giving you what you want, what you need. you sigh in content.

aemond pulls your hair back to see your face. you give him a smile. "can i-" you reach for his hardness. he stops your hand halfway.

"not here, sweetheart." he says. "we can leave when you feel better. i'm gonna take care of you at home, okay?"

you hum, try to get your strength back on your bones. you stretch like a cat, a bit sleepy under his gaze. you manage to sit, even give him a kiss on his neck. he's free of his tie, a few buttons of his shirt are open. a faint lip gloss stain remains on his skin after your kiss.

"we can leave." you say. "let me get my things."

he nods, standing up to get his car keys and his phone. you unlock the door to go get your stuff, your legs are still shaking. the wetness is uncomfortable just a bit but you think you'll be okay until you get to aemond's apartment.

he comes to your side. "i'm ready." you say to him. he nods.

you don't know what he's waiting for. he looks like he's unsure of something. "something wrong?" you ask.

"no, no." he says quickly, shaking his head. "i was just- thinking of holding your hand."

you laugh, giving him the most precious smile he got from someone. you never know when but sometimes he acts so sweetly, you wanna keep him in your bed forever. he's so different from the man he is during the day.

"i'm glad you find it funny." he snorts. "come on."

"i'm not mocking you." you say. "it's just- you know no one would believe me if i say aemond targaryen is shy when he's asking to hold my hand."

"thank god, i'm not trying to convince anyone with my affections towards you then." he says with that charming tone. fuck him, he knows what he's doing. "can i please hold your hand now?"

"of course." you say, giving him your hand. he doesn't let go until he gets you in his car.

[ethereal-night-fairy]

I wonder how Slasher!Soap would deal with a passively suicidal victim. This was inspired by @ghouljams drabble.

Slasher Masterlist

Warning: MDNI dark themes, dead dove, child neglect, passive suicidal ideation, attempted murder, implied horny thoughts.

Exam season is getting to you. The food here sucks. You hate your dorm, all your friends seem fake and superficial. You don't enjoy your course work. The professors here are assholes and your job keeps forcing you to work overtime when you clearly needed to focus on your exams.

You're fed up with life wondering why you even bothered applying to this college major when you knew it wouldn't make you happy. You suppose you always wanted to make your parents proud yet they hardly ever cared. They didn't even bother to see you off when you left. Too 'busy' as they put it.

But you're too far in to drop out now. You've already spent too much money to back out. It always been like this. It's always you putting everyones needs above your own. You shot yourself in the foot this time though. You could've picked something you liked to study, but you didn't. Only because you had a small hope if you followed in the footsteps of your parents perhaps they'd pay attention to you. But you're an idiot for hoping that. It's the same story retold ever since you were a child.

At least you're good at putting up a front. No one ever suspected anthing from you. Not your family, not your so called 'friends'. You suppose you can attribute that to your acting skills. You're good at lying, you're good at masking your emotions. You're good at plastering on a smile to get through the day. As exhausting as it is you can put up with it for now. You're living like a zombie, a put together zombie but a zombie nonetheless.

But it seems that God was merciful. Because you were sent someone who'd finally put an end to your suffering. During a time where all you did was work, study and sleep he promised you everything you've ever wanted. An early grave where you could finally rest.

He promised you he was going to end your life and you felt relieved? Most people would be afraid but not you. No, unlike everyone else you were flooded with an overwhelmingly amount of relief. After so many years of pain and suffering were you finally going to be put out of your misery?

You first noticed him on your late walks home from work. There was someone following you. Someone keenly keeping an eye on you. For the first time in your life someone had taken an interest in you.

Then the notes started appearing in your dorm. Short cute but threatening notes detailing the things he wanted to do to you. Soon after the calls started. They always came late at night when you'd get home from work. And strangely you enjoyed them. Not in some sick perverse way, but just because someone wanted to talk to you. You didn't mind playing along to keep his attention on you.

For once in your life you don't have to worry about anything because you knew things were coming to an end. For once someone had shown some kind of attraction to you. Even if it is just to objectify you. You didn't mind though. Any attention is better than no attention. This takes the whole blame and guilt off you for wanting to kill yourself. No one would blame you for wasting money, no one could technically be mad at you for dying when it wasn't your fault.

And that's what you wanted, a blameless death, one that no one could argue and fight over. If someone else does kills you it doesn't really count as suicide does it? And your parents wouldn't blame themselves because you didn't do it to yourself.

It's perfect. A win-win situation for both parties.

But that's what ends up fucking everything up.

When he finally came to end your life your nonchalant attitude to dying threw Soap off his game. The worst part to Soap is that you're not even horny about the whole ordeal. This isn't a kink thing to you like he suspected in the beginning. Which confuses Soap even more because you were playing the game so seamlessly up until now.

You led him on with your fake pleas for mercy, your fake cries of fear, your fake gasps of terror. But everything was a lie, you led him on. And for some reason that upset him more than anything else. The fact he was fooled playing his own game.

Most of his victims play into the fantasy at the start thinking it's some sort of BDSM scene. Not realising they're actually going to die. He thinks that's mainly due to how handsome he is. No one ever suspects the handsome ones.

And then they end up dying in utter terror and agony. And oh how he loved their screams changing from that of pleasure to pain. Knowing full well they couldn't do anything to stop him. No amount of begging or pleas were able to spare their lives.

While with you, you fully expected to die at his hands and he finally understands now it was you who was playing with him. It was you who was weaving the game and puppeteering him to your end goal. He never had control when it came to you.

You stare at him with tired eyes and a peaceful smile as his hands tightened their way around your pretty neck. The same neck he left a necklace of hickies on just a few seconds earlier. He squeezes down watching your body fight your mind. But there's no rush of endorphins, no blood pooling to his cock as he watches you gasp because there's no real fight in you. You've long given up.

And he hates it. He hates he was tricked, he hates he was made into a fool, he hates your dead eyes. He hates that you look so broken.

Only because it wasn't him that broke you.

So his hands loosen and the colour returns to your face while you look at him confused but more upset than anything.

"There's no fun in killing the dead Dove..." The tiredness re-enters your eyes as you look at him with your withered soul. You looked so done with the world. So beaten down that killing you would be akin admitting defeat to himself.

There's no way he'd allow someone to beat him at his own game... Especially not someone as pathetic as you. He'll just have to breathe life back into you and restart this game in his favour. He'll win one way or another. Even if he has to break his own rules to do it.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

Copyright © by ethereal-night-fairy. 2024. All Rights Reserved. Writing not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or to use with AI technologies.

[howtofightwrite]

Have you read GRRM books? He claims swords needed to be “especially designed for women’s hands” how true is this?

About as true as all of those, “girl guns.” Because, as you know, a woman cannot hold a Glock unless it's pink or sky blue. Which is to say, not even remotely true.

You might get a situation where a child would be unable to operate a weapon designed for adults because the grip is too cumbersome, but even this is going to be something of an outlier. Even years later the Nicholas Cage's line from Lord of War (2005) sticks with me, when describing the AK he narrates, “...so simple a child could use it, and they do.”

Just like basically any other common grip you encounter in your daily life, from screwdrivers to steering-wheels and cell phones, selling smaller, or more colorful ones, is strictly a marketing gimick.

Now, is a legitimate context, but it doesn't really have anything to do with the wielder's sex. If they had the money, the time, and the desire for a perfect grip, they might commission a smith to produce a grip specifically for their hand. Though, the only place I've ever come across this was in competitive fencing. I have seen cases where someone modifies their blade's grip with tape or other materials to better fit their hand, or the addition of a leather (usually shagreen) wrap over their grip, but even that is somewhat unusual. (Shagreen is leather from a shark or ray, and it grips the skin, making it easier to hold, especially when wet.)

Ironically, girl guns do illustrate the one case where have some weight: Weapons as fashion accessories.

I know I've complained about weapons (particularly handguns) as fashion accessories in previous posts, but the truth is that using weapons like this is not new behavior. In the early modern era, one of the ways the rising middle class liked to display their status was with a sidearm. (In this case, referring to a sidesword or, later, a rapier.) I've looked specifically into women carrying sidearms at that point in history, but it really would not surprise me in the least if they did, and if there were, that at least some of those swords were specifically designed to be more delicate and, “feminine,” per their owner's tastes. (Though, to be fair, a more delicate grip on a rapier would be fairly impressive, as the grips tend to be pretty thin.) This is a case where you might want to look into it further, if it really catches your interest, but I've never really run this down before.

If you're still dubious, feel free to wander into nearly any HEMA event, and you'll have a better than average chance of a woman being willing to prove this idea false with a Zweihander, that may in fact be taller than she is. (Historically, Zwiehanders could be over 2 meters long, and chances extremely good that you're shorter than 2 meters.)

I know I'm regurgitating previous posts here, but it really is worth remembering that swords are much lighter than people think. Zweihanders are some of the heaviest battlefield swords from history, and even the heaviest examples weigh less than 9lbs. Women in HEMA can, and do, use them effectively. Swords aren't about being big and heavy, they're about being a (in this case) seven foot long razor blade.

Since we're on the Zweihander specifically (and this may also apply for some of the other greatswords, such as the Scottish Claymore), this is a case where you might have a custom weapon forged for you. However, in this case, that's more about the right blade length, then worrying about the grip being too thick or too thin. Ideally, you want the blade length to match your height (roughly), this is because of the drills with the weapon itself, though you could adjust to a longer blade if that's what you had.

Now, to be clear, the idea of someone, particularly a noble, having a blade custom forged for them specifically isn't strange. That's something that did happen, both at the noble's request, and also as diplomatic gifts from other nations. Examples of the latter resulted in beautiful art pieces that you would never take into battle.

If you had a situation where you couldn't use a sword because the grip was too large (for, whatever reason), there are ways to fix that. In an ideal situation, you could simply pop off the pommel and grip, and then replace the grip with one that was a better fit to your hand. If the tang itself was the problem (this is the metal core of the grip, and is part of the blade, which the pommel attaches to), you might be able to shave (or file) down the tang, and then replace the grip with a new one, fitted to the now smaller tang. I'm not particularly wild about modifying the tang directly, simply because there is a (minor) risk of reducing the structural integrity of the sword in the process. Though, replacing the grip (especially on a sword with a threaded pommel) is very doable, and unless someone, somehow, screws up catastrophically, it should be a pretty trivial modification. (Again, replacing a sword's original grip with a new shagreen grip does make a lot of sense if the owner wants that improved grip.)

But, to the original question, it's not really a thing.

-Starke

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