#help this is just the first post that crossed my dash

[tokiponizing-posts]

a, ni ala ni:

o ala e jan pi mani mute mute mute. ala.

jan li jo e mani $999,000,000 la, mani ale li tawa tomo pi pana sona li tawa pona jan.

sina kama jo e poki pi kiwen mani jelo. ni li lon: “mani la mi jan nanpa wan.” ma pi musi soweli li kama jo e nimi sina.

[clickety-clacker]

Been seeing so many cool Clickies on my dashboard since getting into GGG, I just had to take the time to draw a few of them- plus, it was a bit of a challenge to try new styles. A lot of these guys were also super influential to how I draw and even think about Click Clack on my own time, so you should definitely check them out! Names below the cut cus it got long heehoo

Top left: @malartsorte

Top middle (holding papers): @scribblelimbo

Top right: @wishgraanted

Leftmost middle: @beastwhimsy

Middle (peace sign!): @sootnuki

Rightmost middle: @molabuddy

Bottom left: @pespillo

Bottom middle: @artuurle

Bottom right: @modmad

I know I said it already, but all of yall are super cool and I had a lot of fun challenging myself to make this! Keep on being awesome 👍

[ylangelegy]

i’m actually obsessed with your jealousy prompts…. what’s better than the most jealous mf around???

seungcheol + “they did that on purpose”

★ seungcheol x celebrity!reader ┆ word count: 970 ┆ part of my closed jealousy drabble game.

ⓘ established relationship, secret relationship, pet name ['baby'], angst [if you squint]. combined with another prompt c/o anon: "i'm going to scream."

"I'm going to file a complaint."

Seungcheol is being dead serious, and yet you laugh at him. You laugh!

"Baby," you start to say, your tone edged with that familiar exasperation you take on whenever you think he's being silly. He's having none of it tonight, though. He knows his theory is one hundred percent correct.

And so he juts his lip out in a pout, crosses his arms over his chest, and whines out his next words like he's some teenager instead of a 29-year-old man. "They did that on purpose!"

That, being the recent announcement of who would be the special hosts of MBC's year-end music show. When Seungcheol first caught wind that a member of SEVENTEEN might have the chance to share a stage with you, he had been ecstatic. While your relationship wasn't public knowledge yet, he was ready to make it glaringly obvious should he be chosen to be your co-host.

He's had whole daydreams about the moment. The hand he'd casually rest on the small of your back. The smile he'd give you that would have Twitter speculating for weeks. Maybe he could even post something vague on Weverse afterwards, some cutesy message of I'm so happy~ ❤️

Alas, all his hopes were dashed when the memo about the hosts went out this morning.

"They put you with Jeonghan on purpose," Seungcheol grumbles.

Jeonghan— the one person Seungcheol wouldn't be able to openly go up against. The company must've known Seungcheol would throw his idol image out of the window, must've known that there was only one person who Seungcheol wouldn't pick a fight with.

The fact that Jeonghan is being extra annoying— relentlessly teasing, calling himself 'Mr. Steal-Yo-Girl'— has only added insult to injury.

You reach out to tug Seungcheol into your side. Even though he's technically supposed to be upset, he can't help himself; the leader leans into your touch, draping himself over you.

Your couch has always been way too small for the two of you, even though Seungcheol insist it's a 'perfect' fit. He considers it perfect because he can always pull you into his lap and bury himself in you, which is exactly what he does now despite his sullen mood.

When your fingers instinctively entangle in his hair, a part of him relaxes. That very part bristles just as quickly when you quip, "Well, Jeonghan is the pretty one in the group."

"I'm going to scream," Seungcheol threatens.

You know your boyfriend enough to understand that he's at least half serious. "Alright, alright," you huff, giving his hair a light, reprimanding tug.

Seungcheol hisses at the sensation. You appease him by pressing your lips to his cheek.

You shift in his hold so your gazes can meet. The look on your face only makes Seungcheol's frown deepen. You're enjoying this. You're amused. You're not taking his predicament seriously.

"If he's so pretty," Seungcheol starts, ignoring the way you begin to roll your eyes as you anticipate what's to come.

"If he's so pretty, why don't you date him, then?" he asks, punctuating his words with a dejected sniffle. Seungcheol looks the part of a wounded puppy.

Eyebrows furrowed? Check. Lips pursed? Check. Boba-like eyes, meant to tug at the heartstrings? Check, check, check.

Unfortunately for him, your long-term relationship has steeled you to his petulance. You take his attempt at moping in stride, opting to press another kiss, this time to the corner of his mouth.

"Because I don't want him," you say patiently. "I want you, baby."

The words still manage to make Seungcheol's heart soar. He tries not to let it show on his face. He's trying to prove a point here. He refuses to be won over by sweet nothings, even if you're so lovely as you say them.

"You're going to be on stage with him instead of me." Seungcheol's arms tighten around your waist, his expression darkening slightly. "People are going to ship you."

A surprised bark of laughter escapes you. "How do you know what shipping is, huh?"

"You're changing the subject."

"Baby—"

The words come out of Seungcheol in a rush, fueled by his gripe with management's decision. "I want people to ship us," he grouses. "I want them to look at us and think, 'They look like they'd be the perfect couple,' because we are!"

Something softens in your expression, then, and Seungcheol knows exactly why. Promises of going public have been made since the beginning, but now it's several years in and there's no relationship announcement in sight for either of you.

Seungcheol's voice is quieter, a little more even, as he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

"I just want everybody to know that I love you," he says, the words muffled against your skin. "And that you love me, too."

You stroke Seungcheol's hair soothingly. He relaxes at the familiar ministration, letting his breaths even out.

"Soon," you mutter. "I promise, baby. We'll get that really soon."

Seungcheol bites back the urge to say that it's been soon for the past three years. This is something beyond both of your control. He's not about to make you feel guilty for something neither of you can change.

He settles for the next best thing. He tilts his head just so, allowing him to catch your lips in a kiss. It's sweet and unhurried. His favorite type.

It's the kind of kiss that makes the endless 'soon's worth it.

When you pull away for air, he wordlessly reaches for his phone. You're a bit out of breath as you watch him angle his screen away from you and type something out.

"What're you doing?" you ask, craning your neck to try and catch a glimpse.

"E-mailing the CEO of MBC," he says matter-of-factly. "To make me your co-host instead of Hannie."

"Choi Seungcheol!"

[mm-lurking]

Malfunction: Heart Mode - Boothill

Based on this post. fem reader. Praying this is not ooc. Writing is kinda choppy, I tried my best. 1.6k words. tag: @nvuy hope you like it -- Boothill is one strong muddle-fudger. He does not give a rat's behind when it comes to romantic love, affection, and all that fudging nonsense. Even if it has crossed his mind, he's too busy dealing with the forking problems of the cosmos and most importantly trying to find that son of a nice lady who is responsible for killing his sweet angel and destroying his planet.

Yet here he is, standing in front of you at the bar with a drink in his hand as he hears his machine heart starting to whir. You both were regulars at the bar and often ran into each other from time to time. Your encounters were akin to something like being seatmates; there was enough information exchanged to know about each other yet it was nothing personal. While you didn't quite understand why he would disappear for long periods before returning like nothing happened, you never questioned it and were simply happy to see him again.

He too liked meeting up with you. He couldn't help but flash his razor-sharp teeth whenever he saw you; calling you “partner!” out loud before greeting you and asking how you had been. The little interactions you both had were always a pleasure and as time passed, he seemed to grow more attached to seeing you.

Today was a little different. Compared to your usual outfit, you were dressed up all fancy and the more he looked at you, the louder the whirring of his heart got.

"Fudge."

He mutters under his breath. You look at him inquisitively as he turns his head sideways and sighs.

"Something the matter Boothill?" "It's nothing partner."

You watch as he chugs down his glass and sets the empty vessel down on the bar counter before ordering more.

"I haven't even finished my first drink yet and you're already done?"

You laugh a little as you take a sip of your drink. The dim lights of the bar made your jewellery glow and alongside the reflections of other shiny things, you looked heavenly in his eyes. He doesn’t answer so you look over and find him dazed.

"Boothill...? Um, do you need some space?" "Fudge!"

He can't help but say it out loud this time, covering his face as he scrunches his eyebrows and frowns. This was not how he normally behaved. What in the hot diggity fudge was going on with him?

"Yes- I mean no, ugh fork me!"

You stand there confused (and slightly amused) at how he seems to be fighting himself like a madman. He almost looked possessed from how he kept going back and forth with himself as if he was surprised at what he was saying. Like his tongue wasn't his own.

"I'll give you some space."

The last thing you wanted was for him to hurt himself or those around him. You finally decide to leave just to make sure everything's alright only for him to grab your arm and then quickly let go in shock.

"Sorry 'bout that partner.”

Boothill awkwardly apologises for his unusual behaviour. Before you can reply, a drunk accidentally pushes you from behind and you lose your balance causing you to fall straight into his arms.

“I-!?” “Um…?!”

Both of you are speechless. He swiftly holds your waist with one hand while the other firmly holds onto malt juice. Your hands are tightly gripping his shoulders from the fear of falling. No coherent thought is spoken but the flustered look on your faces has got some of the bar regulars around you giggling.

You don’t even hear the apology of the one who accidentally pushed you. It's as if time has slowed down and nothing exists outside you both. Strangely, he doesn’t let you go and you don’t move either making things even more awkward.

The strong alcohol you were sipping on makes you tipsy and somehow gives you the courage to lift your head and gaze into Boothill's unique eyes. You've always admired how dashing he looks; from his physique to his dressing style and even his interesting way of speaking. And now here you were up close, staring disrespectfully at his face and how handsome he looked.

Boothill is no different either, he's gazing at you hesitantly as he tries to find something to say but the only thing that comes out of his mouth is-

“Fudge me…” “I'm sure the ladies at the ranch think about that regularly.”

You mumble without thinking and he tenses up.

“I- what?!”

He stutters as his cheeks turn slightly red and his eyes widen.

“Uh?! Nothing!”

You mentally slap yourself for blurting that out loud. Even if it was true, why did you have to say it and make things awkward? Come on! You both were having a somewhat endearingly awkward time together! 

You attempt to conjure up something to smooth things over but your thinking is disrupted by a strangely loud machine sound that seems to be coming from nearby. The whoosh is accompanied by irregular beeping sounds, almost like one of those technology things Boothill had told you about. 

You glance around to see if you can find the source only to realise-

It’s coming from Boothill.

“Oh.” You whisper under your breath but the cyborg (who still doesn't let you go nor drinks his beverage and is as still as a statue for some reason) hears you loud and clear.

“Something the matter, pretty lady?” “Yes. Do you plan on us staying in this position until the bar closes?”

Instead of answering his question, you deflect it with another. He turns red again and stammers badly which makes you giggle and further confirms your theory.

“Gotcha.”

Before Boothill can ask what you’re doing, you slowly drag your hands down his shoulders until they rest on his chest. You feel the rapid whirring of his heart through the vibrations it emits through your fingertips. A tiny smirk spreads on your face and you look back at him.

“You’re pretty cute.”

You flirtatiously speak. The look of confusion and embarrassment on his face makes you laugh harder.

“What- hey what- I-”

Boothill’s stammering only gets worse alongside the overheating of his heart. He tries to reply with a snarky comment but the only thing he’s capable of doing is squeezing your waist harder and propping himself up with the bar counter to avoid falling. You, being the woman you are, do not stop the teasing.

“You can’t handle affection, can you? Look at you sweet thing, your heart is overworking and your synesthesia beacon has already overheated.” “Shut…” “I barely said anything and you’re malfunctioning already? How amusing.” “Son of a nice lady…” “I am indeed the daughter of a nice lady.”

“You-!”

He is bewildered at your unexpected behaviour but that painfully obvious blush on his cheek tells you he's not mad about it.

“Oh dear,” you chuckle and pry yourself off his metal chest, “I should stop or else your…eccentric friends…will hold me responsible for any severe malfunctions.”

This was enough teasing from you today. If it were up to you, you would go on and on but you feared any dire consequences that would affect Boothill. You lift and steady yourself up nonchalantly as if you just didn't cause the ranger to nearly pass out from your shenanigans.

Despite the cold metal exterior, he feels the loss of warmth from you moving your body away. His hand slowly retracts from your waist but lingers as if he hesitates to let go. The overheating of his system rapidly starts to decrease, however, he is unable to calm his emotions down completely. He turns his attention away from his mechanical heart and gazes at you curiously while you fix your wrinkled dress.

“You are one hell of a woman.”

A long sigh leaves his mouth as he speaks as if still processing your chaos. A sly smile appears on your face when you (finally) hear him speak properly.

“Took you a while to get talking didn't it mister?”

That grin on your face screams ‘this wasn’t even my best attempt’ but he shrugs it off. He unknowingly takes a step closer to you as if wanting your presence as close to him as possible. The (welcomed) intrusion into your personal space causes you to sharply inhale. He simply places his hand over the rim of your filled glass and whispers gently.

“You think I'd let any lady come close like that?”

Your mouth practically foams as you try to formulate a response. Eventhough you're not looking him, you can feel his gaze on you which makes you nervous.

“I'll tell you something sweetheart. I've got some fudging business to attend to in a bit but the next time we meet, I'll finish what you started.”

His voice is low and rumbly as he subtly warns you of the consequences of your actions. He follows it with a tight squeeze of your hand and then steps away from you. Your mind protests his leave but you're too stunned to speak; had you put yourself on his wanted list now? 

There is a devilish smile on his face as he checks his gun and locks it before walking away with it casually. Next time, he'd show you what a cowboy is capable of.

Hey, at least you were living out the dreams of those ranch ladies. ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ©mm-lurking 2024 do not copy, steal or reuse my work.

[hivemuthur]

The Game of Teaching Body - Ch. 9.

viktorxfemale!reader explict! (we got there)

AU university, AU modern era, slow burn, frenemies to lovers, teasing, pinning, banter, eventual romance and therefore smut, Viktor is simultaneously a menace and needs a hug, TA Viktor

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12.

word count: 7,2K!

tag: #the game of teaching body

summary: spoiler: In the timeline of my writing, this is the first sex scene I've ever written on my own. So, what can I say? This is an imperfect story about imperfect people, but I can assure you it has an eventual happy ending.

Cross-posted on AO3 + POV3rd Person Version

—

The absolute chaos of Christmas looming spread across the campus like an infectious frenzy. The corridors were decked with the most absurd ornaments the students could scavenge—Santa Claus figurines strung up and dangling upside down from the ceiling of the canteen, Christmas trees adorned with laboratory glassware and angel hair, and a mockery of carols blaring on repeat from the school radio. It was a bizarre fusion of science and art, a perfect encapsulation of the university’s peculiar spirit.

Every student seemed to be racing against time, scrambling to finish their projects and papers before the holidays, determined to return prepared for the looming finals. The labs and library remained open around the clock for anyone desperate enough to study or practise at odd hours.

You and Sue spent every spare moment in the lab classroom, tinkering with projects that needed to be submitted by the semester’s end. Meanwhile, Jayce and Viktor made themselves available to assist and guide anyone who might need their expertise, and the group crossed paths periodically, exchanging polite gestures and jokes to keep up the holiday spirit. Viktor had made a few attempts to talk to you after his mortifying text message, but you did your best to ignore him.

Which made your current situation, to say the least, far from ideal. Sue was rushing you to jot down all the points before she had to dash off and tend to a project for another class. The two of you huffed at each other, frustration starting to take its toll, until you sighed and said, “Sue, how about I finish this, and you go do your thing? I really don’t mind.” You offered your friend a reassuring smile.

Sue hesitated, narrowing her eyes. “Are you sick of me or something?”

“I’m never sick of you,” you said, placing your hand on Sue’s knee and giving it an affectionate squeeze. “I just think this needs a bit more work, and I can see you’re in a hurry. Honestly, I really don’t mind if you don’t.”

“Okay, I admit my mind is elsewhere. Fine,” Sue sighed in mock defeat. “I’ll do something for you in return, I promise.” She started packing up her things and leaned over to place a hand on your shoulder.

“Just get me a cookie or something,” you replied with a tired smile, gently brushing Sue’s hand away. You figured you’d probably finish the work faster on your own, and you were running out of time anyway. The lab was already emptying, darkness had fallen outside, your eyes burned from staring at the chemicals for so long, and you’d had more than enough for one day.

After Sue left, you resumed your work, determined to finish everything in one evening. The promise of rest and the satisfaction of completion fuelled you. You were so focused on jotting down your thoughts that you didn’t notice when Viktor sat beside you and leaned over your notes.

“Do you... need help?” His voice was unsure, as if he were asking about something else as well.

You hesitated. Help would certainly be welcome, but Viktor’s presence would also make it harder for you to focus. The final equation seemed to balance out the odds. You looked at him—he looked tired yet sharp. He wore the same green jumper he’d had on that night, with a crisp white shirt collar peeking out from underneath it. His scent was fresh and comforting, and his eyes, full of quiet anticipation, were fixed on you as you calculated your decision. You sighed. Yes, you needed help.

“Alright. Shoot me.”

For a split second, Viktor’s face lit up before he leaned in closer. “You’re pretty far along,” he said, his expression thoughtful, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “You can dictate, and I’ll translate it into Heimerdinger’s language?”

“That would honestly be perfect,” you admitted, letting out a huff of relief as you turned your attention back to the chaotic scrawl of notes Sue had left behind. Terrible handwriting.

The two of you worked together in near silence, the hum of the lab equipment and the faint scratching of Viktor’s pen the only sounds between you. You found yourself occasionally distracted by the way Viktor’s long fingers moved as he pointed to your results, his low voice guiding you through adjustments. You tried to stay focused, but every now and then, you’d catch yourself glancing at him, his concentration a tether pulling your attention away from your notes.

Viktor, for his part, couldn’t help but steal glances at you. The faint scent of your perfume mixed with the sterile air of the lab, and it made something in his chest feel warm, almost achingly so. He bit his lip nervously whenever he realised he’d been staring too long, forcing his attention back to writing.

It took the two of you longer than either of you had expected, but when you finally wrapped up, the lab was completely empty. You stretched your arms over your head, letting out a soft groan of relief.

“That’s it, then,” you said, your voice tired but satisfied. “Thank you, Viktor. Honestly, I’d still be drowning in that mess if you hadn’t—”

“It’s nothing,” he cut you off gently, placing the pen down and leaning back slightly. He watched as you began gathering your things, clearly ready to leave. But before you could stand, he cleared his throat, his voice softer now. “Hey.”

You paused, looking at him.

“Did you…” He hesitated, the words suddenly harder to push out. He fidgeted with the edge of his notebook. “Did you get my text message?”

Of course, you did. You’d seen his stupid, childish message. The ‘I like you,’ had screamed at you from your phone screen for two weeks now, and you’d both loved it and hated it. Who writes ‘I like you’ like a five-year-old? And not only that, who needs to down an entire bottle of whisky to muster the courage to write ‘I like you’?

Your stomach twisted uncomfortably. You hadn’t expected this. You shifted awkwardly in your chair, avoiding his gaze. “I did,” you said finally, your voice measured, careful.

Viktor’s expression remained unreadable, but his hands tightened around the notebook in front of him. “And?”

You let out a breath, your lips pressing into a thin line. “And… if I’m to rely on you saying or doing something from the heart only when you get yourself blind drunk, that wouldn’t be the best choice for your health, Viktor,” your voice was quiet, your eyes fixed on the workbench in front of you. “And I don’t want to be bad for your health.” You offered him a faint smile and looked down again. “If it was from the heart, in the first place.”

His brow furrowed slightly, but he nodded, his gaze dropping to the table. “It was.” It was. And it shamed him deeply that, indeed, he’d needed liquid courage to admit it. Only now did it strike him how awful it must have made you feel. “But I have a… rabbit heart.”

“Am I so terrifying?” you felt mockery twisting itself inside you with anger. Why were you so angry, though? You also had a rabbit heart. You often caught yourself knowing exactly what Viktor was going to say because you used the same words in your history of backing out. Was this the universe having a go at you?

“Yes, you scare the living shit out of me,” he huffed out a shaky laugh, lowering his voice. It was probably the biggest truth he’d told you in all this time.

“Well, this can’t be good for your health either, then, no?” Deflect, deflect, deflect, hide yourself behind that joke. Very well done, you.

“I—” Viktor paused, his hands gripping the edge of the table. “Look, I lied. I’m not good with any setup—casual or not. I—” He stopped himself, his eyes flicking briefly to yours before looking away again. He was torn, visibly at war with his own feelings.

You didn’t want to hear him stumble over words again. “Viktor, I get it. It’s fine. We can still be friends?” You tried to search your mind for what you’d want to hear all those times when you told someone politely the relationship wasn’t working for you.

You thought this was it—an offer of friendship. Most people got hurt or annoyed with you, and it made you feel guilty. So, you tried to say something that wouldn’t make him feel guilty. As soon as you said it, you realised that what you actually wanted was for someone not to let you retreat—but it was too late for that.

Viktor took in a shaky breath, his gaze returning to yours, but he still looked uncertain. “I can’t do that,” he said quietly, his voice thick with something you couldn’t quite place. “I can’t be just your friend.” His hands clenched into fists on the table. “I... I’ve tried to be fine with it, but I’m not. I can’t pretend.”

“But I don’t know how to be anything else,” he added after a beat, his mind flicking back to all the times he’d snuck out of someone’s bedroom or when he found himself alone in the morning, in his own cold, sweaty bed. After some time, it became a habit, a quiet indulgence that carried no consequences, and it aligned very well with his main goal: to make his life more than it was meant to be. No distractions, only his goal. Some distractions, but not too many. Only friendships, and here as well, only the stimulating ones. To keep his brain fed, so his soul could starve.

“I have worked… so hard,” he brushed his hand through his hair. “To get where I am. I was meant to fail, and I haven’t failed once. I haven’t failed a single time, aside from some tiny, insignificant stumbles that eventually lead me to answers anyway. So many times I haven’t failed that I don’t think I know how to,” his voice was quiet, as if admitting something shameful. He said it as though any slip-up could cost him everything he’s worked for.

“I… understand,” you said slowly, piecing together the crumbs of information. Viktor didn’t come from a place of love, like you did. He didn’t come from a place of opportunity. He probably had to claw his way through pompous academics who didn’t take him seriously. You understood that part. But what was your part in turning it all to dust—that eluded you. So you didn’t understand, not entirely.

“Do you?” he looked at you longingly, expectantly, and it made your heart ache. What was it that you were supposed to give him now? A promise you would never hurt him? That you would never distract him or drag his mind away from what’s important?

“Viktor, this shouldn’t be so hard, I’m not some mythical creature,” you said, trying to inject a touch of humour into your voice, but it came out thin, brittle.

Viktor’s gaze softened, but the intensity in his eyes remained. He leaned forward slightly, his voice low and steady. “No, you’re not,” he murmured, as if trying to reconcile something inside himself. “But you’re not like anyone else either.”

Your chest tightened at the words, but you quickly pushed it aside, unwilling to let yourself feel vulnerable. You folded your arms across your chest, as if protecting yourself from something you couldn’t name. “I don’t want to be a puzzle for you to solve, Viktor. I don’t want to be some challenge you feel like you need to conquer. That’s not what I’m here for.”

He hesitated, his brow furrowing as he processed your words. He wanted to argue, to convince you that it wasn’t about conquest, that it was about something deeper, but he could tell it wasn’t the right time. Not yet. “I don’t… I don’t think of you like that,” he said, his voice almost too soft, as if afraid to break the fragile moment between you. “I think of you as someone I want to understand, someone who...” He trailed off, unsure of how to finish that sentence, the words feeling too heavy in the air.

You shifted in your seat, your eyes narrowing slightly as you considered his words. There was a vulnerability in his voice, a quiet sincerity that you weren’t used to hearing. You almost wanted to reach out, to ease the tension that hung between you, but you held yourself back.

There was a long, aching pause between you before Viktor cleared his throat and leaned back, trying to break the silence. “So,” he said, the words coming out in a lighter tone, “how many do-overs do you think we can have?”

You rolled your eyes at him, a small, rueful smile tugging at your lips. “I find myself hoping that each one is the last one,” you replied dryly, though your heart wasn’t fully in the jest. “Thank you for all the help.”

Viktor smiled, a faint, almost self-deprecating chuckle escaping him. “Oh, no worries. I’ll see you at the Christmas party?” he asked, his voice a little uncertain, as if he wasn’t sure how you’d respond.

You nodded, your expression softening just slightly. “Yeah, I’ll be there,” you said, your tone neutral, but not dismissive. “Take care, Viktor.”

With that, you parted ways, the lingering tension still hanging between you, neither fully satisfied with the conversation, but both with the understanding that you were somehow still connected—however uncertain that connection was.

You found an unbearable thought gnawing at you—that in this state, the only ‘do-over’ you could count on was friendship, and Viktor couldn’t afford that. Inevitably, it would end with nothing.

***

It wasn’t exactly a party, but the pub was completely packed with people—students, assistants, and random individuals who wandered around campus, their roles in it a complete mystery. Everything was bathed in the warm glow of Christmas decorations, making the space feel even more cramped.

You sat at a small round table with Sue, some familiar faces scattered around, including Jayce and Viktor, who had joined after their TA duties. Sue was mid-sentence when you leaned back in your chair, your eyes wandering. You weren’t in the mood for all the noise tonight. The words blurred around you as you half-listened, your fingers tapping rhythmically on the edge of your glass—a quiet distraction. Viktor was talking to Jayce, his sharp voice cutting through the noise every now and then. His dry wit was always on full display, the kind that kept people around him in that odd mix of awe and wariness.

“You okay?” Sue’s voice brought you back. You blinked, nodding slowly.

“Yeah, just... tired, I guess,” you said, forcing a polite smile as you took a sip of your drink.

The room was hazy with cigarette smoke, the heat becoming unbearable. The whole scene was so unbearably sweet and cozy that it made you flinch. Your eyes kept glancing over to Viktor, who would immediately look away as soon as your gazes met. You kept thinking about what another do-over could look like and felt yourself growing more and more frustrated with the space between you, even though you were sitting so close to each other. You could feel Sue's eyes on you but couldn’t quite explain why you felt this way.

Sue raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. “Well, if you need to bail early, I totally get it.”

You hesitated, then gave a half shrug. “I think I’ll head out. Just... not feeling it, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it,” Sue replied, offering a quick nod. “See you later?”

“Yeah.” You stood, grabbing your coat from the back of your chair. As you made your way through the maze of tables, you could hear Viktor's voice in the background—just enough to make you pause. You could feel his gaze on you, but you ignored it, focusing instead on the exit.

Viktor watched as you stood and walked away, a wave of frustration rising within him, forming itself into a long sigh. He had tried, hadn’t he? He had said things—things he never said to anyone—but now you were leaving, retreating like always. His jaw tightened, and he felt his fingers curl into fists on the table. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, not after everything. He should’ve known better, but still, your departure stung.

He couldn’t place why, but it felt like you were slipping away just as he was beginning to reach out. You were both so fucking terrible at talking, at letting yourselves feel anything real. Why did it have to be so difficult?

The cold air hit you as soon as you stepped outside, and for a moment, it felt like a relief. The street was quiet, the only sound the crunch of snow beneath your boots. You slid your headphones on and started walking toward the dorms, matching your steps to the rhythm of the song.

You awaited rest and home and being far away from here with utter impatience. Just one more evening of this. Just one more evening of thinking and biting at your own lips, glancing at your phone, and then it would only be your parents, and Hale, and the quiet evenings at Sheffield, for a week.

Against reason, Viktor followed you, his footsteps soft but steady as he stepped out of the pub moments later. His eyes caught sight of your retreating figure, and a small, amused smile played at the corner of his lips. He’d almost not been surprised—almost expected it.

He called out your name, his voice lost to the wind and muffled by the sounds of the night. But you didn’t hear him. Quickening his pace, his breath misted in the cold air. He called again, louder this time, but still, you didn’t turn.

A small part of him considered letting you go, letting you stew in your thoughts, just leaving it for after the break. But the rest of him felt pulled, like a dog on a leash in front of a vet’s door.

You were nearing the entrance to the dorms when you finally paused, taking a deep breath, and tugging your headphones off with a slight wince. The moment you heard your name, you froze, your heart skipping in your chest.

“Hey you!” Viktor’s voice was closer now, cutting through the night. When you turned, you saw him standing at the edge of the walkway, just outside the dorm. His breath came in visible puffs, his chest heaving as if he’d run after you.

“You walk... so fucking fast,” he said, still catching his breath. “I never figured you for the type to run off so bluntly. But I suppose that’s part of the fun, isn’t it?” Yes, just laugh it out. Viktor took a few steps forward, leaning heavily on his cane.

“Are you fucking drunk again?” you blinked, your mind racing. You had to admit to yourself that Viktor drunkenly following you from the bar was a coin toss you wouldn’t have bet on. Especially after your last talk. Funny.

“Are you not?” he countered, his words smoother than you expected.

“No. Go back to your pub, Viktor.” Your voice was flat now, each word carefully measured. You exhaled sharply, your shoulders sinking as if the weight of the evening had finally caught up with you. You were so tired of this.

Viktor tilted his head, his smile barely visible in the shadows as he took a step closer. “Eh, make me,” he said softly, though it wasn’t a challenge—not really.

Another step.

“I am so not in the mood for you now,” you muttered, your hands dropping limply by your sides as you turned away, dragging yourself down the corridor toward the elevators. Your voice lacked its usual bite, tinged instead with exhaustion.

“Alright, alright, I’m not drunk, just had one pint. Oh, come on,” Viktor mock-pleaded, his cane tapping lightly against the floor as he quickened his pace to catch up with you. “You won’t see me the entire holiday break.”

“And I will savour every single day of this glorious relief from your constant nagging, poking, your sweet side and your dick side, and having fun at my expense,” you snapped, jabbing the elevator button with increasing impatience, your words punctuated by each press.

You were expecting another joke, but Viktor’s hands gripped your waist firmly, twisting you around. Your breath caught as he pulled you flush against him, the heat of his body sharp against the cold you’d carried in from outside.

“Shut up,” he breathed, his voice raw and ragged as his lips found yours. The kiss was unsteady, heated, and messy, tasting faintly of sweet beer and a frustration that mirrored your own. He panted into your mouth, his lips parting just enough to nip at yours.

“Just… shut up, for once,” he murmured, crowding you against the elevator door. It slid open behind you with a soft chime, and you stumbled inside, Viktor’s cane clattering to the floor as he steadied you against the wall. He pulled your turtleneck down to lick your neck greedily over the bite mark he had left there. His hands quickly found their way under your sweater, and he gasped, bemused by your lack of underwear. “No bra?” Again. A low chuckle rumbled against your skin. “Is that your idea of a Christmas present?”

“Fuck off,” you scoffed, your voice still sharp with lingering anger. Your hands pressed against his chest in an attempt to push him away, but the lack of real force and your hands still gripping his coat tightly betrayed you.

“Are you sure?” Viktor smirked, his grip firm as he tilted your chin up, pressing a lingering, deceptively sweet kiss to your lips. “This is your floor,” he said, his voice agonizingly calm as he stepped back, gesturing toward the elevator doors sliding open.

“Or…” His tone shifted, almost teasing, as he pressed the button to close the doors and send them up to his floor instead. “You could come with me. For real, this time.”

You pulled him wordlessly toward you, offering no resistance—nothing more, nothing less. Words had failed you, but your actions were clear. It was enough. Viktor wanted to say, That’s what I thought, the words teasing the edge of his tongue, but he held them back. Instead, he captured your lips again, kissing frantically. He explored your mouth, swallowing the small sounds you made, the elevator a blur as it carried you upward.

By the time you reached his room, Viktor managed to open the door without breaking the kiss, his cane hanging hooked over his arm. You stumbled inside together, the heat between you growing unbearable, and he pressed you firmly against the door, his hands bracing your hips as his lips moved over yours with unrelenting zeal. You pulled him closer, your breath catching as you managed to rasp, “Bed?”

Viktor chuckled softly against your lips; his tone laced with teasing. “Impatient, are we?” But there was no mistaking the heat in his gaze, the way his hands tightened on your hips as he broke the kiss just long enough to guide you further into the room.

“Fuck you,” you muttered, your voice raw as your fingers curled into his shirt, tugging him with you.

“Yes. Please, fuck me,” Viktor murmured, sweeping you into another fervent kiss as you stumbled toward the bed. “I’m so tired of you not fucking me.”

You scoffed into his mouth. And who is to blame for that? You sunk into the mattress, pulling Viktor with you by his belt, the cane poking your leg.

“Why are you wearing so many clothes?” he whined, his voice laced with frustration as his clumsy hands fumbled with your coat. His hasty movements betrayed him, and in the rush, his knee accidentally pressed against your arm.

“Ow!” you winced, your sharp tone softening as you glanced at his face. The irritation melted away when you saw the unabashed eagerness in his expression, the way his brow furrowed in determination despite his lack of grace. “Is this going to be painful?” you asked, your lips quirking in a faint, teasing smile, though your voice still held a trace of genuine concern.

Viktor froze, blinking down at you like a scolded child. “Only if you want it to be,” he muttered, a sheepish grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he leaned back to regroup. His fingers moved more carefully now, peeling the coat off from underneath you with exaggerated precision. “Better?”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

Viktor granted you a low chuckle, his lips quirking in that familiar, lopsided smirk. “Ridiculous, perhaps, but effective,” he murmured as he continued with his careful work, peeling away the layers of your clothing like unwrapping a particularly stubborn present.

His own clothes, however, didn’t receive the same treatment. He shed them with reckless abandon, tossing each piece into an ever-growing messy pile near the bed, his leg brace a crown on top of it. His cane clattered softly to the floor as he leaned back for balance, the faintest flush spreading across his cheeks.

Once you were both were bare, he ran his palms gently along your sides and pressed his face to your hip, your belly, your neck, inhaling your skin. “God, you are so infuriating,” he murmured, his voice muffled against your body.

He glued himself to you, his hands roaming wherever they could reach, as if this were the moment he’d been waiting to happen for the longest time. And it was, of course. The decision to toss everything aside and just jump in might have been reckless, but he had no capacity to decide otherwise.

“Infuriating?” you laughed, feigning offense. “Is that the way you treat all of your conquests? Make them follow you around by the nose for months, until your resolve finally breaks after one pint?”

“No, only you,” he replied smoothly, his lips brushing against your collarbone. He added with a sly smirk, “It’s my love language with you.”

“Love?” you repeated, voice laced with teasing incredulity, but the hesitation in your tone betrayed how the word caught you off guard.

“Shut up,” Viktor muttered, his hand gliding up your side as he kissed you, silencing your laughter before you could push further. “Attraction,” he murmured against your neck, his lips pressing a lingering kiss there. “Want,” he added, his teeth grazing your breast, earning a sharp gasp from your mouth. “Admiration,” he said, coming back up to meet your eyes and give you a slow, steady kiss. He took your fingers into his mouth and watched your eyes flutter shut, your lips parting.

His voice dipped lower, teasing, and dangerous. “Anyway, is that not what we have been doing?” His hands explored the meat of your ass with a firm grip, his touch both intoxicating and commanding as he pressed himself flush against your core. He shifted against you with a kind of intimacy that had your breath hitching.

“Have you not been loving me all this time?” His words, soft and taunting, carried a heat that matched the tension thrumming between you. His hand moved down between your thighs to scoop your wetness and lick it off his fingers, as he made sure you were watching. “Ah, it seems,” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear, “you’ve been loving me back all along.”

You trembled under him, your breath catching as your hands gripped his shoulders. A quiet plea escaped your lips, barely audible but filled with vulnerability. “Don’t be mean, Viktor.”

For a moment, he stilled, his expression softening as he pulled back to look at you. His golden eyes, usually so sharp and calculating, held a flicker of something warmer, deeper. “Mean?” he murmured, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheek. “No. Not with you.”

The teasing edge in his voice melted away as he leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your lips, slow and deliberate, as though trying to convey what words couldn’t. He was so bad at talking if you thought he was being mean. His hands cradled your face, and his next words came as a low promise against your skin. “I could never be mean to you.”

You huffed softly, a half-laugh escaping you as memories of all the times he’d actually been mean flitted through your mind. “Liar,” you muttered against his lips, though there was no venom in your tone. Instead, you kissed him back longingly, your fingers threading into his hair as your thighs wrapped around his hips, pulling him closer.

Viktor exhaled a shaky breath, his control fraying under your touch. “Perhaps,” he admitted with a faint, self-deprecating smile, his forehead resting against yours for a moment. “But you give as good as you get, don’t you?” he said playfully, reaching over to pull a condom out of his bedside drawer and put it on swiftly. Then, he grabbed a spare pillow to prop his leg. His belly was tied into a knot, teetering on the edge between pain and pleasure, as he placed one hand between where your bodies were going to meet to align himself at the entrance.

He studied your face, as if to check if there was any resistance left. But you only looked at him with wide eyes, your hands fisting the bed sheet. He swept through his body in a final calculation of what could go wrong—he wasn’t drunk, that was a good start. His leg, eh, not perfect, but he should be able to pull this off. Did he want to love you or tease you? He had forgotten which one it was. A shuddery breath escaped him when your bodies finally connected—he entered you slowly, holding back to lay on top of you.

The first thrust was so deliberate, so slow, so overwhelming that you both moaned into each other's mouths. Your brows tied themselves together, your palms stiff in hesitation over his shoulders, as the feeling of relief surged through you. A relief of finally not being empty.

The only movement Viktor allowed himself was the roll of his hips as he sunk inside you, beat after beat. His arms caged you in, one of his hands gripping your shoulder, the other cradling the base of your skull, as he kept your faces close so he could study you, watch you. He stared at you obscenely, taking in your expressions, disbelief wrenching breath out of his lungs. You really wanted him. You were holding him in a vacuous trap, making it hard to pull out and push back in.

And this wasn’t new. People wanted him, he knew that. They wanted him for this—for a fun fuck—and when they continued to want him afterward, it felt like a fluke. So he shut it down. And it made him feel powerful. No, it made him feel weak. It made his weakness powerful. It gave him the power to disappear from it, from himself, to not be present.

The fact that he was present now, attentive, was rather new for him. Not entirely—he’d had a glimpse of what it could be that night when you were high together, but he hadn’t dared breach the boundary of clothing then. This, though, was entirely different. He watched you so carefully, studying every reaction to his touch. He pushed where you gasped and retreated where you winced. Your kisses were as hungry as his, and it made him feel so full. The fuck was more than fun. It made him feel powerful in a way that didn’t make him feel weak.

He tightened his grip, his forehead resting on yours as he buried himself deep inside, thrust after thrust. His mouth open against you, breathing in every gasp, every whimper you were willing to give him. His pace was even, unwavering, as he murmured against your lips, “You’ve been giving me so much grief.”

He locked eyes with you, a hint of vulnerability in his gaze as he added, “But it really feels like you’ve been loving me back. Haven’t you?” His voice was soft, as though waiting for you to answer not just with words, but with the quiet truth in your eyes.

You slid your fingers into his hair, pulling him in for another desperate kiss, and Viktor caught a faint, barely audible ‘yes,’ offered to drown deep in his throat, traveling straight to his heart, as if you were offering him a secret you hadn’t meant to give away. The sound stirred something deep within him, and as you arched against him, your breath catching, he deepened the kiss and quickened his pace. He buried his nose in the crook of your neck, murmuring quiet praises, each word filled with reverence as you moved together toward completion.

He slid one hand to the nape of your neck, another snaked itself between your bodies, his fingers parting you as he whispered softly, “Oh, my girl.” Your eyes fluttered shut, arms wrapping around his shoulders and you muffled your own moan against his mouth, lips and noses brushing against each other. He rubbed lazy circles on your clit, a smile blooming on his face when he felt your back arching beneath him, hips pressing upward to meet his, your cunt clenching around his cock in a tight, needy hug.

He felt your thighs squeezing his hips, your walls fluttering, pulling him deeper inside you, with you. You dug your nails into his shoulders, lips parted pressed against his, foreheads pressed together mingling droplets of sweat into one.

You felt a sudden urge to say, “Thank you,” distorted by a loud moan as you came on his cock, on his fingers, your body tensing up and bending to the sound of his name falling from her lips. It took a long time, and you thought it would never stop, your climax blinding, contorting your body around him with a force to bend and crush.

Viktor’s mind got invaded by a thought of how great it felt to make a girl such as yourself lose control over her own muscles. How it had made him grow taller and bigger, his heart swollen with your grace, his lips bruised from your teeth. Slowly, he worked you through each spasm, and when you were ready, he retreated his hand to wrap both arms around you and buried his face in your neck. His breathing jagged, teeth sinking into your shoulder to not say too much at the sudden tightness around his cock.

His rhythm began to stutter, movements growing urgent by the minute as he buried himself within you up to the hilt. His breath was uneven, his muscles flexing and twisting. He felt your core hugging his cock so tight, he couldn’t hold back his own panting, as if he were a teenager all over again. He moved his face to brush against yours, whispered your name again, voice trembling, and he came with one thick, everlasting pang, whimpering weakly into your mouth.

His body melted into yours with a long, contented sigh, his arms wrapped tightly around you, stomachs and chests pressed, rising and falling together. You stayed like that in silence for a few moments, not moving, just touching, just breathing, just being.

Finally, Viktor rolled you both to the side, his leg hooked over your hip, fingers threading through your hair, and gave you an almost solemn look.

“What is this face?” you asked softly, cupping his cheek and brushing your thumb across his lip.

He sucked on it slowly, not breaking eye contact. “I never thought you would be so…” His voice trailed off for a moment, and just as you braced yourself for another joke, he finished, “wonderful.”

You managed only to whisper a quiet “Viktor—,” your grip tightening around him as the weight of this little praise crushed you. As his eyes crushed you, his warmth crushed you, as you crushed yourself with everything you wanted to say but couldn’t.

Viktor pulled back just a few inches, his gaze searching yours. “Are you going away for Christmas tomorrow?” he asked, his voice soft, almost tentative. Normal.

You nodded slowly, your fingers still tangled in his hair as you answered, “Yeah.”

“Will you stay?” Please, stay. Please don’t have me wake up alone tomorrow. A weakness crept back in.

You nodded against his neck. A quiet breath escaped Viktor’s lips as he leaned in to kiss your forehead, pulling you back against him. He sighed softly, the sound almost like a weight lifting. He didn’t speak for a few moments, just holding you as if afraid you might disappear if he let go.

Finally, you broke the silence, your voice quieter now. “I have no idea how I’m going to explain my absence to Sue though.”

Viktor’s lips curled into a playful smirk, and he raised an eyebrow. “I’ll take care of it,” he said, his voice teasing. “I’ll just tell her you got really into the holiday spirit and had to spend the night with your favourite TA.”

You chuckled softly, the tension between you easing just a little. “I’m sure she’ll believe that,” you replied, though the words felt lighter now, softer.

Viktor’s expression shifted to one of mock seriousness as he pulled you a little closer. “But tomorrow, when the morning comes,” he said, his voice lowering slightly, “I’ll have to call it in. You caught me drunk, used me for your advantage,” he paused, his eyes glinting with mischief, “and I’ll make sure everyone knows it.”

You let out a small laugh, your face flushing slightly at the absurdity of the situation. “Selling me out already, I see how this will go,” you said, teasing him back. “I’m sure you won’t mind telling them how you practically begged me to stay the night and cuddle you.”

Viktor smiled, but his eyes softened. “I won’t,” he murmured, pressing his lips to your temple again, holding you in the quiet aftermath. The moment felt almost unreal—so intimate, so fragile—and yet, there you were. He wouldn’t dare break it by asking for more. And even though Viktor’s chest was still swollen with fear, his mind drifted to sleep in your arms.

Your own mind, however, was restless. As the high of your connection faded, you woke up early, your thoughts gnawing at you. Viktor was fast asleep, his expression so peaceful that you couldn’t believe he had a bad bone in his body. Yet, you had been stabbed so many times. It wasn’t real, was it? It couldn’t be over, just like that. What if he was right, and you weren’t meant to share the awkwardness of the morning? What if he tried to shrug it off once he woke up? Would you survive if he did?

No. You wouldn’t.

Cursing yourself, you slid out of bed, put your clothes back on, and gave Viktor, who was sleeping soundly, one last glance that tore through your soul. And left.

***

The morning light crept through the gaps in the blinds, painting pale stripes across the sheets. Viktor stirred, his body heavy and warm, though there was an odd hollowness in the bed. He reached out instinctively, the fog of sleep not yet cleared, his fingers brushing against nothing but the cold fabric of the mattress. His eyes blinked open.

The room was silent.

He sat up slowly, scanning the space, the sense of emptiness clawing at him as the realisation began to take shape. You were gone.

The sheets beside him were rumpled, but the space was cold, long abandoned. For a moment, he stared at the spot you’d occupied, trying to convince himself you might still be here. Perhaps you were in the bathroom, or in his tiny kitchen searching for tea—but no sound of movement met his ears.

A chill crept through his chest, spreading outwards, a tight knot forming in his stomach. You left.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his movements clumsy, hurried, his leg straining without the brace. There had to be something—a note, a message, anything that might explain. The bedside table was empty. The dresser? Nothing. Viktor opened a drawer, then another, rifling through with increasing desperation, though he knew even as he searched how ridiculous it was. You wouldn’t leave a note in a drawer.

His gaze snapped to his phone. He lunged for it, unlocking the screen with trembling fingers. Nothing. No missed calls. No texts.

He stood there in the middle of the room, staring at the empty screen. His chest tightened, his breaths coming faster, each one shallower than the last. Of course.

What had he been thinking? That after all his fumbling, after all his glaring flaws, you would stay? That someone like you, bright and untamed, would want someone like him—a man who could barely navigate his own feelings without tripping over them?

Right. His fingers clenched around the phone, the pressure digging into his palm. How stupid. How painfully, pathetically stupid. How weak.

He sank back onto the bed, his head in his hands. The weight of the silence pressed down on him. Every echo in the room seemed to mock him. The bed felt too big now, the walls closing in too fast. His mind replayed your smile, your laugh, the warmth in your eyes last night, and it made his chest ache. How could you think you’d earned something like this?

And yet, beneath the sinking despair, anger simmered. At himself. At you. At the cruel absurdity of it all. You’d kissed him, held him, and for a brief moment, he’d thought you were standing on equal ground. But the truth was stark now, laid bare in her absence: you’d left. Or maybe that was an equal ground, after all. Now, you were truly even.

A sharp knock at the door jolted him from his spiralling thoughts. He didn’t answer immediately, hoping whoever it was would go away, but the knock came again, louder this time.

“Viktor?” Jayce’s familiar voice called from the other side. “You ready? We’ve got to leave in half an hour, mate.”

Viktor swallowed hard; his throat dry. His hands slowly dropped from his face as he stared at the door. Jayce’s voice was too cheerful, too ordinary, too far removed from the storm brewing inside him. He wanted to shout at him, to tell him to go away, but the words wouldn’t come.

“I’ll be ready,” he croaked after a pause, his voice hoarse and thin.

There was silence on the other side of the door for a moment, then the sound of Jayce’s footsteps retreating down the hall. Viktor exhaled shakily, his gaze drifting back to the rumpled sheets beside him. Forcing himself to move, he stood and began to gather his things. Each motion felt mechanical, hollow. The knot in his chest didn’t loosen, but he pushed it down, swallowing it whole. It was almost Christmas. He had to pretend. At least for a little while longer.

[oldphanny]

How To Block Terrible Influence Tour Spoilers (Tumblr App)

Hello phriends and phamily!

Tit is starting in less than 24 hours!!!

I don't know if someone has already done this post, but I know there has been an influx of new phannies crossing over from different platforms as of late.

So I thought I would show you all how to block the #titspoilers tag from your dash. This tut is for the Tumblr App because that's just what I use, I would assume the website would be a similar process!

If you are someone that doesn't want the show to be spoiled before you see it for yourself, follow these steps!!

STEP 1

Let's start from the dashboard to make it easy.

Go ahead and press the profile button on the bottom right hand side of the screen, the one that looks like a little guys torso. This will take you to your blog!

STEP 2

Now you should be looking at your blog (hey look that's me!)

In the top right hand corner should be a little gear icon, these are your settings! Go for it!

STEP 3

Oooo my blogs backroom... you should have let me know you were coming... I would have cleaned up a bit.

Now go and hit the 'Account Settings' button which should be the first on the list!

STEP 4

You're doing great! We're almost there!!

Now you'll want to tap on the 'Content You See' option which will be below 'Mentions' and above 'Color Palette'. Sorry, I forgot an arrow on this one.

STEP 5

WE'RE HERE! As you can see, I already have the tags I want censored ready to go but here is how you can add your own.

Right up the top next to the 'Filtered Tags' heading is a '+New' button, tap that!

STEP 6

Now you can type out the tag you want to be hidden and click 'add'. Remember to type them out and add individually otherwise it won't work.

From what I can gather, the Tumblr Phandom is agreeing that all Tit Spoilers should be tagged #titspoilers. I've added some other variations to be extra safe but you do whatever works for you :).

And that should be it!! If you have any other questions, let me know. Otherwise I hope this has helped some people that may not have known or were too afraid to ask <3 Love y'all, let's all enjoy tit together!!

[ladykailitha]

The Harrington Pattern Part 4

I know I said I was going to wait on posting this one, but it's got the most backlogged chapters so I figured I can at least put out this one for you.

It's extra long, like amount 1000 words longer than my usual. But I didn't want to stop half way through a specific section.

An elf gets his ears, Robin freaks out a bit, and everyone gets a little called out about their pre-conceived notions, but especially Mike.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

****

The day had arrived and Claudia had offered to help get them all there, as Eddie’s van was full and Robin still didn’t have her license. She was in driver’s ed right now, thankfully. Her parents didn’t want her going to college without knowing how.

So Dustin, Will, El, and Mike went with Claudia and Robin, Max, and Lucas went with Steve.

Dustin had wanted to go with Steve, but it didn’t make sense as his mom was the other driver. So he pouted all the way to pick up his friends, but by the time Claudia had picked up Mike Dustin was vibrating in the front seat.

Lucas was picked up last.

He still didn’t have his ears so he looked crestfallen when he answered the door. He was wearing the pirate outfit he had told Steve he had.

“He’s being a piss baby,” Erica muttered. “Something about ears.”

“Erica Jean!” Mrs. Sinclair hissed. “We do not talk about your brother that way.”

Erica crossed her arms and pouted.

“Actually, Mrs. Sinclair,” Steve said with a smile. “I have a solution, but I’m going to need your help.”

Both Lucas and Erica perked up at that. Steve patted his pocket with a wink.

“Of course!” Mrs. Sinclair beamed. “I told you Steve and Eddie were going to come through for you, didn’t I?”

Lucas blushed. “Yes, Mom.”

“Where do we need to be, Steve?” she asked.

“The bathroom would be the best place.”

She nodded and led the way, Lucas in the middle and Steve bringing up the rear.

Steve sat Lucas on the toilet seat and pulled out the thin box Eddie had given him. He opened it up so Mrs. Sinclair could see it first.

“Ooh!” she cooed. “I know just what we need. I’ll be right back.”

Steve turned around so Lucas could see them.

Lucas gasped. “Holy shit! What are they made of?”

“Silicone.”

“Do we need anything to affix the ears, Steve?” Mrs. Sinclair asked from her bedroom. “I have makeup glue if we need.”

“That’s fine, Mrs. Sinclair,” Steve called back. “I have spirit gum.”

She peaked around the corner. “Oh that’s even better!” She had her makeup bag in her hands.

“Actually Lucas,” Steve said eyeing the makeup bag. “Go change into your costume. I don’t want to smear makeup on your costume or accidentally knock off one of the ears and have to start all over.”

Lucas leapt to his feet and dashed out of the room.

“It was really nice of you to do all this for him,” Mrs. Sinclair told Steve in the wake of her son’s cartoon speed cloud. “It’s really made him feel special. To stand out in a way that feels good for a change.”

Steve smiled back at her. “He’s a good kid. It was great that I got to do something nice for him.”

Lucas came back a few minutes later, a blanket covering his costume. When his mom and Steve raised an eyebrow at him he blushed.

“I was worried about the makeup getting on the costume,” he admitted shyly.

Steve patted his shoulder. “I would have put a towel over it. A mom approved towel. I don’t think she’s going to approve that blanket.”

“Absolutely not!” She took off the blanket and handed them a ratty old towel to drape over Lucas’s shoulders.

“Thanks Mrs. S.,” Steve murmured and got to work. He applied the ears and then swapped with Mrs. Sinclair.

She applied makeup to the silicone to blend them to Lucas’s ears.

“All done!” she said triumphantly.

Steve whipped off the towel and pulled Lucas to his feet. He closed the door so that they could use the full length mirror that was on the back. He put his hands over Lucas’s eyes and gently steered him toward the door.

“You ready?” he asked softly.

“Yeah,” Lucas croaked.

Steve uncovered his eyes.

Lucas stared in the mirror for a moment or two.

“Baby?” Mrs. Sinclair asked. “Do you like it?”

Tears streamed down his face as he nodded. “I’m an elf, Mom...”

She hugged him tightly. “Yes you are, sweetie. And the best looking elf at the fair, no doubt.”

He nodded and then wiped his tears.

“How did you do this?” he asked Steve.

Steve smiled. “Jeff makes them.”

Lucas’s jaw dropped. “Oh.”

Mrs. Sinclair cocked her head to the side. “Who’s Jeff?”

“Mom!” Lucas hissed. “I like talk about him all the time! He’s the other black member of Hellfire!”

“Ah,” she said with a smile. “You talk about so many of those boys, I get them mixed up sometimes. But I’m happy he was able to help my baby out.”

Lucas rushed out to show the girls who gasped and oohed over Lucas’s outfit.

“How much did you have to pay for those, Steve?” she asked gently. “They can’t have been cheap.”

Steve shook his head. “Jeff did them for free because he knew what it was like to be told no just because of the color of his skin. So don’t worry about it, okay?”

She nodded and the two of them wandered out into the front room.

“Steve!!” Erica screeched. “I didn’t know you could sew like this!” She waved at Lucas. “What the hell?”

Steve threw back his head and laughed. “You could have come, and maybe would have gotten a cool outfit too. Too late now.”

Erica gasped, wide-eyed that Steve would call her out like this.

Mrs. Sinclair patted her daughter on the head. “You’re the one that wanted to sleep over at Tina’s this weekend, sweetie. Maybe next year.”

Erica couldn’t deny her mother’s logic and was forced to concede. “Fine, but just know I’m going to be grumpy about it.”

Mrs. Sinclair kissed the top of her daughter’s head. “I know, dear.”

“Come on,” Max said, “we’ve admired Lucas long enough, I want to go to this fair, please.”

Lucas and Steve shared a glance. “Uh-oh. She said please, we better go before she gets really mad.”

Max rolled her eyes. “Fuck off.”

Mrs. Sinclair bit her lip as she struggled not to tell the girl off for her language.

Max and Lucas piled into the backseat while Robin and Steve slid upfront.

*

The closer they got to the where the Renaissance Fair was being held, the more nervous Robin got.

“Steve?” she questioned. “Why are we heading to the burned down mall?”

Steve grinned. “We aren’t.”

Robin bit her lip. “No,” she mumbled. “I rode my bike on this road every day to get to work. This is the way to Starcourt.”

Lucas and Max leaned forward to see the road ahead of them.

“I think she’s right,” Max concluded. “This is the way to Starcourt.”

They pulled into the makeshift parking lot of the fair. It was pretty much a dust field with people in medieval getups directing traffic.

Steve pulled in where he was directed and they all piled out of the Bimmer.

They stood looking out at the field where Starcourt once stood, but was now a bustling center of outdoor activity.

“What the hell?” Robin gasped. “Where is the mall?”

Steve grinned. “This piece of land was always used for passing carnivals and the Renaissance Fair every year. When the mayor sold it to the Russians to build the mall it put a stop to a lot of summer activities the town once enjoyed. So after the earthquake they bulldozed the area and put back the way it was.”

“What did they do with the underground bunker?” Max asked, vaguely interested.

Steve scratched his cheek. “Filled it with uh, cement.”

Lucas and Max shared an appreciative glance and even Robin nodded.

Steve was the first to spot the rest of their group. Dustin, Mike, Will and El were waiting in neat little cluster for them.

Lucas tugged on the hem of his gambeson and ducked his head. Max looked over at him and rolled her eyes.

“They aren’t going to care,” she hissed.

Steve glared at her. “There has been evidence to the contrary regarding this very thing, so zip it.” He mimed zipping his mouth closed.

Max stared at him wide-eyed in shock. Robin tugged on her sleeve.

“Come on,” she told the younger girl. “Let’s got meet up with the others.”

Max huffed but did as she was told without protest.

Steve put his hands on Lucas’s shoulders and looked him in the eye. “Look, I don’t know how you feel. I can never know how you feel, but let me tell you something that those buttheads will probably never understand because they aren’t like you and me.”

Lucas nodded.

“Being a ‘nerd’ as they call it is not the be all end all of existence,” Steve said. “You can have interests outside of theirs. I know they gave you shit for joining the basketball team, but you are a good player, maybe even a great one if you keep at it. You won’t have the same experiences that they will and that’s okay.”

“But what if we stop being friends?” Lucas asked, his voice breaking.

“It’s going to suck for awhile,” Steve confirmed. “It won’t be easy and it will hurt sometimes when you least expect it, but you’ll make new friends with your same interests as long as you continue to be you.”

Lucas took in a deep breath and let out slow. “You’re friends were assholes though.”

Steve laughed. “And Mike isn’t?”

A small sunny smile peeked out from under Lucas’s cloud of worry. “Yeah, all right.”

They started walking toward the group with Steve’s arm slung over Lucas’s shoulder.

“Take a deep breath,” Steve told him as they got close. “And know I will kick his ass if he says anything.”

Lucas huffed out a laugh. “Thanks, Steve.”

They reached the crowd of their friends and waited for their reaction.

“Holy shit!” Will said. “That is an epic costume!”

And then Lucas fully reached the group and ears could be seen.

“What are you supposed to be?” Mike asked with a sneer. “There aren’t any black characters with pointy ears.”

Dustin scoffed. “He could be a Vulcan. There was a black Vulcan in ‘Search for Spock’!”

“That movie was so bad, dude,” Mike huffed. “It doesn’t count.”

“It totally counts,” Dustin protested. “It’s considered canon, therefore it counts.”

“I’m not a Vulcan,” Lucas said proudly, sticking out his chest, “I’m an elf ranger.”

“Are you a Drow then?” Mike asked. “You do know Drows are evil right?”

Dustin and Will’s jaws drop in shock and outrage.

“Dude!” Will hissed. “His skin isn’t literally black!”

Steve leaned over to the girls. “Does anyone know what a draw or whatever is?”

Lucas turned to Steve. “It’s a race of elves that live in the underdark, deep below where even the dwarves dare to delve. They’re straight up evil and very matriarchal.”

“Well that’s sexist,” Robin said putting her hands on her hips.

Mike rolled his eyes turned back to Lucas. “Well you can’t be Silvain elf, because they’re pale skinned and beautiful.”

“I’m a wood elf,” Lucas said, “my skin matches the woods around me, so I can blend in easier.”

Mike crossed his arms. “Show me one other dark skinned elf that isn’t you and maybe I’ll allow it.”

Just then a large van pulled up to the entrance in a skid, blaring metal music.

The four men got out and everyone was looking at them in stunned silence.

Eddie was dressed as a minstrel, wine dark puffy sleeves and leggings with a black tunic and boots. Gareth was a magic user in long, flowing purple robes that stopped two inches from the ground and beautifully carved wizard’s rod with a deep purple crystal in its grasp. Brian was a fighter with a metal sword at his hip and dressed in actual leather armor. Then the Party saw Jeff. He was dressed all in black with tight leggings, a short tunic and a black silk shirt that was covered by a short cloak. He had two silver daggers tucked into the tops of his thigh high boots.

He dropped the hood on his cloak to reveal that yes, Mike, he too had elf ears.

Jeff spotted Lucas and threw out his arms. “My kinsman! I greet you!”

Lucas turned and bowed low and Steve was forced to turn away to hide the smile at Mike’s stunned expression.

“Lord Kelnic,” Lucas greeted. “I understand these were a gift from you?” He rubbed the tip of one of the ears.

Jeff ran up to him. “Dude! How did you get them to match so well? I’ve tried every kind of glue to make them look like actual ears.”

Lucas blushed. “My mom used her makeup kit to blend the two.”

Jeff turned to the rest of Corroded Coffin. “And why didn’t we think of that?”

Gareth and Brian just shrugged.

Eddie on the other hand looked sheepish. “Because I thought makeup was just for girls?”

Jeff rolled his eyes and turned back to Lucas. “I’ll borrow my sister’s makeup for tomorrow. Can’t have shoddy looking ears next to my ranger kinsman.”

Lucas laughed.

Brian nudged Gareth in the ribs. “What’s Mike’s problem?”

Corroded Coffin all turned as one to see that Mike was standing there between El and Will looking like a rug had been pulled out from under him.

El patted Mike on the shoulder. “My mom says that people who judge someone by anything other than the content of their character are either too young to know better, or are immature. Grow better.”

She turned and started for the line that would grant them entrance to the Fair.

Lucas looked over at Steve and the two of them tried not to laugh at the absolute gobsmacked expression on Mike’s face.

“I’m not being racist!” he huffed and crossed his arms. “I’m not!” He looked around at all his friends, but none of them looked even remotely like they agreed with him. “He’s black so he should be black characters!”

Brian reared his head back. “Dude, how is that not racist?”

Mike looked around again panicked. “It just isn’t!”

Jeff walked up to him and looked him straight in the eye. A feat that was a little hard for most of his friends these days with how tall he’d gotten.

“There’s this thing, Mike,” he said, his voice low and menacing, “called casual racism. It’s where all your upbringing and prejudices come out in casual ways instead of saying things like nigger and that blacks should be separate from whites. It’s oh he can’t play that character, the character is white. He can’t be an elf, elves are white. That’s casual racism and you better check it before it ruins a damn good friendship.”

Jeff stared him down until Mike was nodding his agreement. He turned to Will and Dustin.

“I wasn’t here at the start of this conversation,” he said, “but you two need to be better at calling out Mike’s bullshit. Because a few years on, he should be better not worse.”

Dustin and Will gave confused glances at each other.

Jeff scoffed. “Lucas told me all about the lovely little Ghostbusters incident. He straight up told you he wasn’t going to be Winston, but Mike here assumed he wasn’t going to be anyway because he’s black. So the fact that here we are and he’s still being a racist asshole?”

“We do call him out,” Will said. “And I wasn’t here for almost a year, I don’t know what happened in that year, but yeah he got worse.”

Dustin shrugged. “I don’t know either, man. Don’t look at me.”

Steve stepped forward. “I think you do know, Dustin and I was really disappointed when I heard about it.”

Dustin looked up at him in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“After all, what’s a little casual racism when Lucas ‘betrayed’ you by joining the basketball team?” Steve said, crossing his arms over his chest.

The older members of The Hellfire Club looked chastised. Because they had all given Lucas shit for that.

“You still have time to course correct,” Steve said. “But make no mistake, any kind of bullying, is still bullying. Whether it’s about the color of their skin, the games they play, or the type of school subject they like.”

He pointed at Robin. “Band and orchestra is still people getting together and playing instruments like a metal band.” Eddie winced hard and shoved a lock of his hair in front of his face.

“Playing a sport is no different than DnD, planning, keeping track of stats, and working together are hallmarks of both.” Dustin and Mike shared a grimace and even Gareth and Brian looked uncomfortable.

“Being a genius at math or science doesn’t make you better than someone who is a genius at history or literature.”

To which everyone but Robin and Max looked at their feet. Because they had all made that mistake with Steve before this all started.

“I think we will all need to unpack some pretty garbage baggage,” Steve concluded. “But!”

All the heads shot up.

“We are here for a good time,” Steve said holding up his hand, “and as long as Mike apologizes to Jeff and Lucas I think we can move past this and enjoy ourselves today. Agreed?”

Everyone murmured their agreement, punctuated with nods. Mike looked down at his feet and kicked at a pebble.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I wasn’t trying to be racist. I’ll try to be better.”

Steve looked over at Jeff and Lucas and they both gave him a thumbs up.

“Great!” Steve said cheerfully. “Now let’s get this show on the road!”

“Dirt path maybe,” Robin grumbled. “It’s like an old western out here. I swear to god Steve if I see a tumbleweed I am out of here.”

Steve laughed as they all met El in line.

Now that the heavy stuff was out of the way, it was time for some good fun.

****

My favorite line was El's "...Grow better." Because there is nothing more stinging then your girlfriend telling you to stop being an ass.

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666 @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @thespaceantwhowrites @paintgonewrong @mogami13 @beelze-the-bubkiss @croatoan-like-its-hot @retro-vagabond @dolphincliffs @child-of-cthulhu @sani-86

[hollowtakami]

MY LITTLE DOVE

CONTENT: caregiver!keigo + regressed!gn!reader, pet names (dove, little feather, baby bird), just a fluffy drabble to keep my mind out of a bad place.

AUTHOR NOTE: please keep interactions/tags for this post strictly SFW; ddlg/ageplay/pro+comship are not welcome.

You could feel yourself slipping.

Huddled under a sea of blankets with an army of stuffies, chewing on the end of your sleeve, you fold into yourself.

The scent of your favourite stuffie under your nose would usually comfort you, but not right now. Above the surface of those blankets was a world. That alone was far too big and scary for you right now.

Your little heart pounded as you count the minutes on your fingers to ease your worries, startling at the faint sound of a door clicking open.

A small sigh and the shuffling of boots could be heard through the ajar door your bedroom, shoes kicked to the side of the rack and a jacket strung up on a hook as you heard a melodic voice call out to you.

“Baby bird, I’m back!” Keigo chirped, the baritone of his voice flooding your senses with warmth.

You do your best to ease the blankets off yourself and with clumsy movements, clutch your stuffie to your chest with your head down as you waddled over to the avian.

Keigo saw you emerge from your room like a lost spirit, floating over to him slowly. His face fell when he couldn’t see yours, his eyes soon clocked onto the stuffie and he soon softened.

“Hey there, dove,” his voice smoother than any sippie cup of warm milk before bed, lowered as to not startle you again. He extended a hand to you, gentle and inviting, whispering, “you feelin’ small?”

With a small nod you raise your head to look up, expecting to see even a small glimpse of annoyance in the suns of Keigo’s eyes; nothing.

He beamed when he saw your face, riddled with worry but willing to trust him. And trust him, you did.

You slowly shuffled into Keigo’s chest, babbling to yourself happily when you felt the tickle of his feathers cocoon around you. He patted your hair, kissing the crown of your head.

“C’mon, little feather,” Keigo smiled, “let’s get you cosy, yeah?”

When you were regressed, your age sometimes ranged. Keigo was no stranger to working with children due to his line of work, and so took to your regression quite well. Hidden behind a mask of tenderness was, at first, the fear of making you feel worse. Though, like a feather in the wind, the two of you found your flow.

“Okay, baby, sit on the bed for me while I find you some jammys, ‘kay?” Keigo softly directed, to which you did with a nod, your stuffie still with you.

Keigo sent a few feather dashing out of the room as he picked through the drawer where you kept your regression gear; pacifiers, sippy cups, your favourite pyjamas.

He turned with them in his hand, smiling to himself when he saw your demeanour light up at the sight. You clapped your hands together happily, letting Keigo get you out of your day clothes and into something comfier.

Keigo eventually got you into bed after calming you down when you got so giddy - he can’t lie to himself though, you were so adorable. He left the room for a moment, crossing his heart and promising you and your plush friend that he would be right back.

Sitting on the bed, tucked into a blanket with your stuffie huddled close to your chest, you popped your thumb into your mouth. You were too baby to think anything wrong of it, babbling to your stuffie about something as you subconsciously suckled and bit at your thumbnail.

Keigo soon came back into the room, a clean paci in his hands, his feathers carrying a tray lined with a sippy cup of warm milk and a plate of apple slices.

The avian clicked his tongue when he saw you mindlessly sucking your thumb, smiling as he helped the paci into your mouth and wiped your thumb.

“Save your teeth for these apple slices, baby,” Keigo smiled, his feathers resting back into his wings as the tray was set down onto the bed slowly, Keigo snuggled up to you, planting a kiss on your forehead.

You giggled as the scruff on his chin tickled your skin, your bubbly laughs making Keigo’s heart melt.

“C’mere, dove, let me help you with your snack, yeah?” Keigo softly suggested.

You nodded, too baby to want to feed yourself.

After a few slices, you finished off the sippy full of milk, eyes droopy. Setting the tray down on the bedside table, Keigo held you close in a blanket of his feathers, keeping you safe from any monsters while you and your stuffie got some well deserved rest.

[insipid-drivel]

Toxins, Venom, and Poisons in Historical Western Medicine: How Are We Not Extinct From Doing Some Of This To Ourselves?

This piece is an involuntary piece inspired by @writing-with-sophia's awesome post "Poison list", which is an accurate and succinct list of commonly known (and ancient!) poisons, venoms, and toxins that have been and were used for causing poisoning in ancient and recent history. I wanted to write this because what struck me by their post crossing my dash was, the sheer number of poisons listed that were - and even still are - used as mainstays for healthcare around the world throughout the ages!

OBLIGATORY DON'T BE A DUMBASS PSA: If you're planning on incorporating these poisons into your HISTORICAL-era writing, it's also important to remember that many of them were used for medicinal purposes at one time, too, and it's great you're interested in learning about the subject! And also, you shouldn't try ANY of these! I will not tell you how to do it at home if you DM me, so don't! You are not appropriately trained to do it! You will harm or kill yourself and possibly your loved ones if you fuck around with any of these and it will be 100% your fault and you absolutely should feel bad bout it! I've seen some of you idiots believe 4chan posts about making home-grown crystals using recipes for actual mustard gas and seen you being wheeled into the ER on the news! I will not feel bad if you get yourself hurt if you screw around with any of these plants, elements, or animals!

Resource blog plugs and PSA over, now for the Hilariously Poisonous Medicines:

If you're writing something that's meant to take place prior to the advent of our more modern understanding of poisons, venoms, and toxins, factoring in "this is toxic to me NOW, but what about 500 years ago?" can add a lot of opportunities for interesting plot elements to your story.

These can include someone accidentally poisoning themselves with a toxic drug or substance that wouldn't have killed them if they'd handled it properly - like tansy? Grows all over the place in Europe and England? That'll kill you if you harvest it too late in the season, but it's good for intestinal parasites when it's harvested early in the year and processed right.

Did the lady's maid really kill her mistress with belladonna? Or was she trying to secretly help her mistress get rid of an unwanted pregnancy?

The protagonist's children can't survive to make it to weaning age! Is the wetnurse a poisoner, or does the milkman hide that he sells sour milk by pouring Borax into it so no one could taste it and has no idea he's killing his clients' babies?

Nuance and cultural mores regarding historical views about poisons and toxins can make writing even more fun, dynamic, and interesting! Explore 'em!

Just... please don't try any of this crap yourself. You will poison yourself, it will hurt, you will die, and you will hurt the entire time you're dying. Using OP's master list alone, here's the flip side of these lethal beasts through the eyes of our distant ancestors who believed illness was caused by "vapors", "bad air", and "imbalanced humors":

Hemlock:

Used across multiple different cultures in history. When properly administered to treat a disease, poison hemlock was used to treat asthma, whooping cough, bronchitis, joint/bone pain, muscle cramps, and insomnia. Hemlock was most often used as a sedative and antispasmodic.

Arsenic:

Arsenic is a heavy metal, and so has been used in everything from making specialty dyes for wallpapers (Scheele's green is the most infamous arsenic-based paint; Queen Victoria once had a guestroom in her palace redone with Scheele's green wallpaper. The first dignitary to stay there had to be carried out and taken to emergency care after breathing astronomical amounts of arsenic dust from the wallpaper's paint), to medicine. Arsenic was especially commonly used in history to treat skin ailments ranging from acne, to psoriasis, to syphilis sores. It was also sometimes prescribed for menstrual cramps, upset stomachs, colic, and arthritis, among many, many other things.

Cyanide:

Uh... I have literally never found any evidence of cyanide in medicine, outside of its use in modern medicine as part of certain chemical lab tests for measuring urine ketone bodies that involve no contact with a patient whatsoever. Cyanide literally works in less than a few seconds to render your entire body incapable of absorbing OR using oxygen in your lungs or already existing in your blood. Cyanide is really only good at making things that breathe not breathe anymore.

Nightshade:

There are a lot of different "nightshades", so being specific is essential here. Potatoes are nightshades. Tomatoes are nightshades. Calling anything a "nightshade" does not inherently mean it's lethally toxic. Belladonna is probably the most notorious of the "deadly" nightshades, but to this day, is still used medicinally, and would actually be seen as a health and cosmetic mainstay in historical fiction, especially if your setting is in Italy!

Belladonna is an Italian portmanteau for "beautiful woman", because tinctures (water-based drops) of belladonna were commonly used by Italian women as eyedrops to dilate their eyes and appear more attractive, aroused, and desirable. Today, belladonna's eye-dilating effects are still used by optometrists to dilate the pupils! Belladonna has been, and still sometimes is used as an NSAID, general painkiller, motion sickness treatment, asthma medication, and even as a treatment for IBS.

Ricin:

As OP said, Ricin is derived from the toxin found in Castor Beans, and is surprisingly new as an official "the only reason this is made is to make someone dead" poison. Not only is ricin a popular "nobody would think to test for this!" choice in mystery/thriller writing, but it has been used for political assassinations in real life before. Georgi Markov, a Bulgarian anti-Communist dissenter and writer, was killed in 1978 with a 1.7mm diameter ricin-coated pellet shot into his thigh muscle by an unidentified assailant using a modified umbrella as a gun. He died 4 days later.

Historically, castor OIL has been used for medicinal purposes, especially for treating constipation, inducing labor in pregnancy, and as a topical skin moisturizer. If you've ever watched the opening scene in Disney's "Peter Pan", when the childrens' mother is trying to give them a spoonful of medicine each, she's actually giving them castor oil! Castor oil tastes really bad (so much so that flavorings like cinnamon were often added to try to muffle the taste), so the childrens' reluctance and disgust at their mom making them take their medicine is very realistic for the era the movie came out in!

Strychnine:

Another lethal poison that started life as a medicine/food additive. Strychnine is no longer used medicinally at all today, but historically, it was used to stimulate the heart, treat bladder and bowel incontinence, and limb palsy. Strychnine is a deadly-powerful muscle stimulant that, as a poison, causes horrifyingly painful full-body strictures (spasms) and destroys the cardiovascular system. (Fun fact: Strychnine and hydrochloric acid were historically mixed into cheap vodka to make knock-off gin, especially during the Georgian Era in England if the brewer didn't have or couldn't afford juniper berries!)

Snake Venom:

Seriously, do your research before you write an actual, real snake species using venom they don't produce! The Big 3 Forms Of Snake Venom are: Hemotoxic, Neurotoxic, and Cytotoxic. Specific snake species exclusively generate the same kind of venom (so a hemotoxic snake will ALWAYS produce baby snakes that also make hemotoxic venom). Aristotle himself wrote in 380 BC that certain snake venoms could be applied for treating fevers, smallpox, and leprosy, and there is even some evidence in the historical record prior to the 1800s that different cultures have experimented throughout the eons with using venom for converting into antivenom, but I've never found a source citing anyone making a successful form of antivenom until around the 1850s.

Digitalis:

OP really nailed the important thing about Digitalis, and that is it's cardiac benefits for certain people - particularly for treating congestive heart failure. Vincent van Gogh was actually prescribed epilepsy medication that likely contained Digitalis, aka Foxglove, and there are some prevailing theories about van Gogh's love of bright yellow paint as being either caused or exacerbated by the symptoms associated with digitalis use, which can cause an attraction to and increased visual sensitivity to the color yellow. In several portraits, including one of his own psychiatrist, van Gogh shows subjects presented alongside foxglove flowers. Digitalis is absolutely lethal if consumed or taken without expert guidance, however, because it's the mother ingredient of Digoxin. Digoxin isn't used as frequently as it used to be a few decades ago, but it's still used and prescribed today for certain forms of heart failure and heart disease. Digoxin was also, at one time, was also sometimes used to induce chemical abortions.

Lead:

Dear god, lead. Not only is it so slow to kill you that you'll think that the only way to manage your symptoms is with more lead, but lead poisoning can be a life-long crisis for a person who is regularly exposed to it. Humans have used lead for everything from plumbing, to paint, to our cutlery, to cosmetics, to medicine. While yes, it is very possible to ingest enough lead in a single sitting to die within hours or days, most sufferers of lead poisoning experience it for years or decades before the symptoms become obvious. Some archaeologists believe that the Romans used lead cutlery because lead has a unique reaction when we lick it: when you have lead coating your tongue, it makes EVERYTHING you eat suddenly taste 10x better. I learned this myself from going target-shooting with my mom at a gun rage as a teenager, inhaled gunsmoke (which contains lead), and went for lunch immediately after. Even though I was just eating a $5 meal from In-N-Out, my burger tasted so good I thought I was gonna have to change my pants. When I asked the rangemaster at the target place about it later, he literally said, "Oh yeah, lead makes the worst cooking taste like heaven."

The ancient Romans ate a lot of rotten, spoiled, and sour food, and so lead would've made it easier to eat it back then. But the neurological effects of lead poisoning are nightmarish. It's suspected that, in America, the #1 reason we had so many active serial killers in the country from the 1940s-2000s was because of leaded gasoline. Ever since leaded gasoline was banned? Serial and random violent crime rates have dramatically gone down, especially in metropolitan cities. Ancient Rome, too, gradually became an increasingly violent city as its population went up and its reliance on lead did. We're only just now starting to figure out how toxic lead actually is, so go nuts with using it as a plot element regarding subjects like "Why Are You Like This?"

Mercury:

Mercury is also known as quicksilver, because in spite of being a heavy metal, the temperature at which it melts into a liquid is very, very low compared to most other metals. The first Emperor of China, Qin Shi Huang, was rumored to be so obsessed with the notion of immortality that he would send his doctors on doomed voyages around the world searching for a legendary substance that would, indeed, make him immortal. Legend has it that some doctors who were tasked with the job found out about the last guys, and produced mercury before Emperor Qin Shi Huang and cried, "Here it is! I got it!" so they wouldn't end up doomed to drown at sea. Qin Shi Huang became so obsessed with ingesting and medicating himself with mercury that, when his legendary tomb was being constructed, he had a small-yet-accurate-to-scale map of China+the known world about the size of a football field with every body of water full of fountains of running mercury in his burial chamber. His tomb was rediscovered in the last couple of decades after archaeologists found suspiciously high levels of mercury in the soil on top of a "hill" that had been sitting in the countryside untouched for thousands of years. It turned out to be Qin Shi Huang's long-lost tomb.

Since those days, mercury has closely been associated in early medicine as a sort of cure-all, since it literally kills anything it touches (including people). Captain Blackbeard himself, the most notorious pirate in Western history (Western specifically; google who Zheng Yi Sao was), was known or widely believed to be a syphilis sufferer, and desperately sought infusions of mercury from ships he'd capture (and the doctors onboard) to treat it, believing like everyone did that mercury could cure syphilis. It can't. They just didn't understand back then that syphilis starts off surface-level, and then eats your brain years after the initial infection.

Aconite:

Again, ridiculously toxic outside of specific medicinal applications that still aren't safe today! Aconite, or wolfsbane, has historically been used as a heart sedative (for slowing the heart), diuretic, painkiller, and even used to induce sweating. Evidence of wolfsbane being used for medicinal purposes has been spotted here and there over thousands of years throughout the Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Empires, but its original use came about in Ancient Greece for hunting and culling wolves by poisoning bait-food with it. That form of hunting died out long before the European Middle Ages, but the name "wolfsbane" stuck. Mostly because in the Middle Ages, a lot of people believed werewolves were a huge problem, and kept wolfsbane handy to deter said werewolves.

Thallium:

Today, thallium is mostly used in the production of camera and eyeglass lenses. Before its toxicity was known about, it wasn't strange to hear of thallium being used topically to treat fungal infections like ringworm. Thallium was also sporadically used in treating typhus and tuberculosis, along with a wide array of sexually transmitted diseases.

This list doesn't even touch the tip of the toxic iceberg when it comes to the sheer quantity of hilariously dangerous toxins people have, or still continue, to use for medicinal purposes! In a Victorian-era English London middle-class townhouse setting alone, there were dozens and dozens of ways to poison or otherwise harm yourself just by going about your daily life. So, if you've got a period piece you're working on, or are just bored, you can pick an exact date and time in our history and learn just how terrifyingly comfortable our ancestors were with upsettingly dangerous substances and home remedies. You can also watch a massive docuseries, called "Hidden Killers" and hosted by historian Suzannah Lipscomb, among other historians and archaeologists, which deep-dives into the hidden and unknown dangers of living in eras from Tudor-Era England, to the Post-WWII Reconstruction Age.

As a final note: I am NOT bashing Chinese or Eastern medicinal practices here, and in fact deliberately have gone out of my way to not include any references toward culturally-sanctioned medicinal practices in Eastern and Southeastern Asia. This post is specifically related to the history of WESTERN medicines and their associated history. I am not, nor have I ever been, a doctor of any traditional Eastern medicinal practices, and do not pretend to know better. Sinophobes are unwelcome in my blog space.

[aroacesafeplaceforall]

Hello there!

Mod team:

I’m Jamie but I also go by Jay! I’m gender queer and use any pronouns but I am masc leaning (he/him), don’t be afraid to ask! I’m aegosexual-pansexual and a romance repulsed aromantic! I am neurotypical and the OG owner of this blog!

Hey people, my names Noah (or you can call me Nicola as that is a name I also go by :D) and I use they/them pronouns :) I have a long list of labels cause I'm a complicated human being lol. I'm non binary, lesbian/sapphic oriented aroace (I use both labels), with a handful of microlabels (greyromantic, aceflux, apothisexual and aegosexual), I'm also queerplatonic. I have diagnosed adhd and I'm an infp B)

My name is Ray! I go by any pronouns and I’m a Agender Cogirl. I am cupioromantic and aegosexual (and many other things, just ask if you want to know!). I also have diagnosed autism and I’m an ISFP

Carl D, all pronouns, allergic to garlic, aroace

We’re here for all your Questions, Rants, Vents and Confessions!

Ask box is always open and we’re always here for your asks!

We are here to educate, explain and help with anyone who needs it!

Stay safe, remember you are valid and its your box!

LOVE U ALL U ARE VALID

Commonly asked questions!

Link to my Aro-spec post

Link to a post containing most Ace Spec identities

Asexual Wiki, Aromantic Wiki,

the Asexual Visibility and Education Network -Asexual resource

AUREA - the Aromantic-spectrum Union for Recognition, Education, and Advocacy

List of Aroace Spectrum resources

The Battle of the Phobics Link to link post

The comments section link to a helpful article on how to educate/beat the acephobes

This user acknowledges that the land they stand on always was and always will be aboriginal land. Sovereignty has never been ceded. This user recognises the past atrocities against Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples of this land and that Australia was founded on the genocide and dispossession of First Nations people.

Recommend blogs

please feel free to ask me first, if I don’t provide a good answer or you want more you can ask again or go to one of these blogs! Please tag more blogs I should add to this list!!

@asexualadvice - asexual advice! (Read blog but helpful info!)

@aegosexual-moments - the aegosexual blog of all time (excluding myself /j)

@aromantic-diaries - Very cool aro person!

(Yes I know my profile pic is off center, suffer, its still off centre, suffer more)

(It’s seperate because aroace is unfortunately usually viewed as one identity, ace and aro are separated spectrums)

(If I hear one more complaint about my icon I’ll change it to what ever random piece of art crosses my dash next and you wouldn’t like that would you??) (i did that and got a new profile pic :D)

The Blogs

blogs that are kinda fan accounts???? wtf????

@aroaceplaceforsome they’re the neutral party here, they use pronouns

@throwawaysoiwontgeteatenbyjamie a whore

@jamies-a-great-person @aroaceappreciationplace -more whores (lovingly)

THANK YOU SO MUCH TO @la-creechura for drawing our profile pic!!!

Banner art by @pride-flag-planets

The forces:

A collection of multi member blogs dedicated to one country of aspecs… all against Denmark

@aussieaspecforces

@indianaspecforces

[inighttra]

Yandere!Demon!Tengen and Wives x Fem!Hashira!Reader

Decided to pick this as my first upload to Tumblr. This was cross posted to my Wattpad account.

Warnings: Poisoning, blood consumption (just a small bit), injury, forced relationship.

Words- 2.7k

=========================================

Your POV

"He's near." The shadows whisper causing me to sit up, "And they're with him."

"They're? He must've brought his wives this time." I chuckle sheathing my sword, "Perhaps he's gotten tired of losing."

The shadows chuckle in response before disappearing into the back of my mind. I sigh shifting my body, so my legs were hanging off the tree branch. I begin to swing the limbs back and forth waiting for Tengen to appear out of the tree line. Of course I'm sure you're wondering how this happened-how I'm nonchalantly waiting for an upper moon and how come I have four demons on my trail? Well that's an easy answer-I'm a Hashira. To be more specific, the Shadow Hashira. I was able to use shadows not only in combat, but also escapes too. I had run into the upper moon and about a year ago.

The shadows kept me hidden as I watched, the upper moon frowning as he grabbed the man by his throat. I use the shadows to get me closer taking a deep breath before leaping at them. I cut the demon's hand, the civilian dropping to the ground a few seconds later. I could feel his gaze on my back, turning to face him a few seconds later. As we made eye contact his mouth curved upward into a smirk.

"What a flashy entrance!" He laughs as his hand regenerated, allowing the civilian to turn tail and run, "But interrupting my dinner was quite unflashy."

"I believe getting strangled to death is quite unflashy. I can't stand there and allow that."

A 'hmph' is all that left the demon as his eyes scanned my form. I sat there getting a bit bored whilst he checked. me out.

"Are you just going to look at me all night or can we actually get to the fun part?"

His smile returns as he straightened his posture, "I like you. What's your name?"

"Y/N. You are?"

"Tengen Uzui. Y/N huh? I think Y/N Uzui sounds better."

I don't respond, merely raising a brow at him before getting into a fighting position. Tengen's smirk remains as he twirled his dual blade Nichirin swords. Once he stopped, I dash towards him, our swords clashing halfway. Neither one of us budged, our strengths evenly matched while we pushed at each other.

Eventually I forced our stalemate to end, letting him push me back. I land on my feet not far away and just in time to observe Tengen running at me. My sword turns pitch black as I summon two shadows beside me, serpent heads shooting out and rushing towards him. I raise my sword as he slashed and dodged them, both of us exchanging strikes. I will admit it was slightly difficult to keep up with his momentum at first, but it didn't take long for me to match it. I couldn't help but smirk when his fuchsia eyes met mine, the demon also seeming happy to finally have a good opponent.

More shadow serpents appear forcing him away from me. He slashed at them, and I watch in amusement when he jumped into the air. At first, I thought my serpents would take care of him, lunging at his free-falling form. However, within a blink of an eye he cut them all down, his form reappearing just inches away from me. My eyes widen while my hands attempt to move my sword in front of me. It was hopeless though. He'd reach me by the time I was able to do so. My mind raced through counter measures, and it seemed the shadows took my safety into their own hands.

Before he could grab me however a black arm shout out from the shadow beside us, grabbing the upper moon and throwing him away. Tengen grunts as he hits a few trees, stopping himself a few seconds later.

"Huh?" He speaks as his eyes find mine once more, "How many things do you have in there?!"

"None technically speaking." I chuckle landing not too far from him, "I can't help it if the shadows are protective of me."

"Well tell them to stay out of it!"

"Come now that's not really fair Tengen. Don't you wish to best me in a fair fight? It would be quite unflashy for you not to."

I don't give him time to respond, taking the chance to go on the offensive. He twirls his Nichirin swords keeping up with my strikes with ease. I decide to take it up a notch, once again incorporating the shadows. Serpents and limbs strike out from the darkness attempting to disrupt his defense. The upper moon kept up however, his smile never faltering whilst dispersing my attacks. Although as his confidence built so did the openings. Eventually he left one wide enough for me to get a strike through. My hit was just off the mark though taking off the demon's jaw before the shadow serpents sunk their teeth into his shoulders throwing him into the trees.

The upper moon took the strikes with pride, his eyes holding something a kin to lust and joy. The shadows hiss as he stands once more, the flesh of his shoulders and jaw swiftly repairing themselves.

"That settles it." He purrs wiping away the blood from his reformed mouth, "You'll be my fourth wife."

"Oh a fourth?~" I purr observing his recovering form, "Where are your other three wives?~"

"Not here but don't fret. Once I turn you, you'll have all the time you need to get to know them."

"Bringing another woman into your relationship without consoling your wives? Quite scandalous you know."

"They'll like you. I know it."

We charged each other once more, both of us exchanging cuts with one another. His pupils widened while the scent of my blood fills the air, fueling the demon's attempt to capture me. Our battle continued for quite some time, the exhaustion beginning to catch up to me. Tengen noticed of course, his attacks turning more feral forcing me to use more energy.

"The sun is almost here." The shadows whisper grabbing my attention, "We should retreat before our power is weakened."

My eyes narrow knowing that they were right. My power was greatly weakened when the sun was up, and I would hate for the male in front of me to burn to death. I dodge one more attack before the shadows enveloped me, hiding me from his senses. I'm know not supposed to, but I couldn't help it. For some reason this demon intrigued me. I appear from the shadows on a nearby tree branch, looking down at the demon as his head swiveled in search of me.

"You should get going." I state causing his gaze to snap to my form, "The sun is going to rise in half an hour. The nearest structure is easily 45 minutes away, but I believe in you. I would be completely bed ridden if this was our first and last meeting." I tease sheathing my sword.

Tengen relaxed placing his swords on his shoulders while he laughed once more, "You aren't even my wife yet and you're worrying about me? I'm truly touched."

I roll my eyes when the shadows begin to envelop me once more, "We'll see if that happens. Although do be sure to bring your wives along for the next battle. I wish to see if they're real or not."

"You don't have a choice Y/N. You will become my fourth wife."

"We'll see Tengen." I reply before finally allowing the shadows to teleport me away.

And we've been playing cat and mouse since. We've had at least four battles since then, none of them having a clear victor. It's not long before I spot four forms appearing from the tree line. They halt in the middle, all four demons looking around the small clearing. Tengen steps forward raising his head high before he opens his mouth.

"Where are you Y/N?~ We can smell you. Come out now."

"Ooh so scary." I snicker causing their eyes to snap towards me, "But there's no need for threats. I've been here this whole time." I jump down from the tree branch eyeing the three other women beside him, "And you three must be Suma, Makio, and Hina. I was beginning to think you weren't real since Tengen never brought you along for our battles."

"I told you it was just bad timing-"

"Tengen told you about us?" Suma sniffles her eyes widening as tears gathered in them.

"Oh yes he tells quite a lot about you three. One could say he's smitten." I smirk watching as the male tensed when the three blushed and turned towards him.

"Tengen!~" Suma sobs throwing her arms around his neck, hugging him.

Makio growls grabbing the woman and attempting to rip her off of him, "Get off him you idiot! Focus on the reason we came here!"

"Makio is right Suma," Hina speaks up causing the two to stop, "We need to focus."

Suma pouts but allows Makio to pull her off Tengen. Hina then turns to me setting her purple and yellow eyes on my form.

"And you must be Y/N, our future wife."

I laugh unsheathing my sword, "I don't know about that. I'm pretty content on being single, and besides it's too dangerous being a Hashira, let alone a Hashira's lover. I already bear scars of my journey." I finish rolling up my sleeves to reveal some of the scars.

"No more I promise." Tengen states eyeing the scarred skin, "Tonight you come home with us."

"As sweet as that sounds," I giggle getting into a fighting stance, "I've heard that one too many times to believe it."

The upper moon huffs his eyes narrowing at my stubbornness before he shifts into a stance as well. This time I'm the first to attack rushing forward and slashing at Tengen. He of course dodges it. His wives stare at me in shock, not at all expecting that level of speed.

He strikes back and I jump back to avoid his blade. I move to counter him only to be suddenly pounced on from behind. I grunt the arms tightening around my front as I spot Suma's hair on my shoulder.

"Just stop!" She cries while I try to throw her off, "We just want to care and love you!"

Tengen takes this opportunity to charge me but I turn and use his wife as a shield. This causes both him and her to tense, allowing me to pry her hands off me before throwing her at the upper moon. While the two collied into a tree Hina and Makio dashed forward, the two moving in sync. I was able to dodge most of their attacks, but they were able to get a few cuts in. I begin to grow agitated at being on the defensive, summoning two shadow serpents which forces them away.

However just as I started to form a plan of attack I'm kicked from behind. I crash into a tree wincing at the pain that sprouts all over my body. A snarl escapes my lips as my fingers dig into the tree bark before lifting myself up. I once more summon more shadow serpents, launching themselves towards the demons. I move in with them landing a few hits on Tengen and Makio. I ignore the smell of blood as it fills the air continuing my onslaught against the four. However out of the corner of my eye I spot Hina launching at me and in reflex I raise my forearm. I grunt when Hina kicks my forearm forcing me back a few feet. They quickly finish off the rest of the serpents turning to me with fire in their eyes. I sigh twirling my sword before pointing at them.

"Come now this isn't quite fair, is it? A 4 v 1? Not fair at all." I tease shaking my head, "Let's even it out, shall we?" The demons look at me confused as I shift my stance, "Shadow summon second form-shadow clone!"

Tengen's wives take a step back as three humanoids shoot out from the shadows, landing beside me. Their eyes widened when they realized that they were exact clones of themselves. I don't waste any more time, pointing my sword at the group causing the shadows to charge. Tengen meets us halfway attempting to cut down the Hina clone, but it dodges him, and he instead is met with my sword.

"What no longer interested in fighting little ol me?"

"I prefer getting rid of the distractions first."

"Distractions? They're not distractions. They're just allowing us to have our honorable 1v1."

Tengen only huffs in response our swords once more clashing with each other. Just like in our previous battles we once more engage ourselves in a dance of steel, neither one of us willing to give in. His wives attempted to interfere once more, but their clones held them at bay, forcing them back as they copied the demoness' moves. It seemed that the battle was at a standstill, all of us being on equal power levels with our opponents. Although as it continued to draw out

The sun will rise in an hour, the shadows hiss, we must finish this.

I agree just in time to meet Tengen's swords in a deadlock. We push against one another neither one of us budging at the other's strength.

"Just give in!" The demon snarls pushing on our blades, "There's no use! You're ours!"

I only smirk in response, my hand shooting down to the dagger strapped onto my thigh. Tengen shifts towards me due to the loss of strength from the removed limb, giving me a nice opening at his neck. I felt a little bad, sad that our flirtatious, yet entertaining battles were coming to an end, my fingers curling around the handle of the blade, yanking it out of it's sheathe. However, when I swung, I realized something-my body was slowing down, my strike wasn't as quick as it was supposed to be. My reaction times were slower than what they were earlier in the battle. Tengen notices this and smirks jumping away from me.

"Slowing down my lovely wife?"

"N-No." I huff glaring at him.

"Oh really? It doesn't seem that way to me. Your leg is shaking as we speak. Are you feeling unwell perhaps?~"

I don't say anything as blood seeps past my lips, my brows furrowing in confusion at the crimson blood.

"Sadly since we knew you weren't going to surrender without a fight, we had to go about things in a less flashy way."

"What did you do?" I snarl forcing more blood past my lips.

"Our lovely wives' daggers were covered in poison."

My eyes widened in realization. No wonder why I was starting to feel weak. Makio and Hina's cuts earlier were just deep enough for the poison to get into my bloodstream. It was then that my hands begin to shake, my sword dropping from the trembling limbs. It would only be minutes before it fully kicked in. My legs gave in a few seconds later, the upper moon rushing forward and catching me before I could hit the ground. I growl at him, my hand grabbing his shirt.

"U-Unflashy cheater."

"I know my love, but you'll forgive us."

It was then that the shadow clones disappeared, my energy no longer sufficient to keep them here. His wives stare in shock before their eyes find our forms. Tengen grabs one of his swords cutting the palm of his hand before holding it above me.

"Drink." He commands his blood dripping over my closed lips.

I only glare at him, my grip tightening on his arm. He sighs turning to Hina. No words are said but she nods moving closer and grabbing my jaw. She fights my tiring muscles as she attempts to pry my mouth open. I attempt to punch her, but Hina dodges it somehow keeping her grip.

"Makio, Suma, hold her down." Hina states earning a quick nod from the two onlookers.

They do so, rushing over and holding my limbs down. Suma kept trying to reassure me about my new future, claiming that they'd care for me and love me with all their demonic hearts. I didn't have much choice however, my dying muscles finally giving way to Hina's grip. I jerk as the metallic taste overfloods my senses, all of them cooing at me to calm down. In my dying moments I continued to thrash until my eyes closed, fully sealing my fate with them.

[redbatchedcumbermayned]

Dopamine Week - Thanksgiving edition #7 - the mother of all thank you posts!

This dopamine week, I thought about doing something completely different—giving thanks to the amazing people, writers, artists, and all-around amazing folks I met through the Rogue Trader fandom. Yeah, dopamine week is officially over but that doesn't mean I have forgotten about all the amazing people making this fandom special!

So, first and foremost, thank you to YOU for reading this post! Thank you for contributing in ways big and small to the Rogue Trader and/or Heinrix fandom.

Thank you for liking my fic, reading, kudoing, and leaving comments here or on AO3. I see you, and your encouragement means the world to me. If I don't tag you in this post, you are by no means forgotten—this is just going to be such a long list that some people might slip my grasp!

Shout out to the many talented writers I share the space with:

@pallysuune - Queen of the rarepair, your fics featuring Heinrix x Achilleas made me want to explore their relationship in more detail. Thank you for sharing your talent with us. <3

@themagnificentmags—Queen of the game plus fic, your take on the game's events with Eltura is a stroke of genius. I can't wait to catch up once I'm out of the MAATLC trenches.

@captastra, thank you for the fic you gifted me! I often re-read it, and it always puts a smile on my lips. Thank you <3

@literary-potato, your take on Heinrix and your Rogue Trader are fascinating, and they are the only fic I allow myself to follow apart from my own writing. Please continue publishing and sharing your talent with us.

@vossprime, thank you for the slightly more unhinged fic you gifted me. ;) For the day we spent in Munich shopping, for your takes on Heinrix, and for your great RT, Zlatko. You belong in at least two categories—a double threat and insanely talented in writing and drawing. I hope you continue sharing your works with us.

@vitanithepure is another massive talent. I hope you continue updating your post-game fic. I massively enjoyed reading about your RT.

@theevilscribbler unhinged in the best way about Marazhai, your live reading talent is one for the ages. Thank you for our many exchanges in the writers' chat and the ideas you have seeded in my brain. <3

@jaal-ama-daravv—You, my dear friend, would need a whole category unto yourself, and we still wouldn't cover all your many talents. Organiser and heart of the Rogue Trader gift exchange, a great writer and artist, you gifted me the idea of a young Isha with short hair, and I will immortalise her in my fic. Thank you for your passion, video edits, and going insane over Emmrich with me and playing Veilguard.

@cawyden-gaming - not only do you write, but your deep dive into the game files provides us with all the little details we might have missed in our own playthrough. Your screenshots have been, at times, an invaluable help in my own writing. So thank you for that. <3

Then, shout out to the artists who gift us so many great pieces of Heinrix art:

@annahenriart—wow, just wow. Your interpretation of Heinrix is stunning, and your style is sensual and soft. I'dlike to climb inside my monitor and devour your paintings.

@sotc - thank you for both paintings you drew of Heinrix and Isha. I love your style; your artwork crossing my dash always makes me smile.

@raeb33s—You, my dear, have a unique way of painting Heinrix, one that always makes my heart melt. Please continue sharing your drawings of him with Jae and your RT. Each one of your drawings is a gift to the community.

@cadencespark - you are a ray of sunshine, and you spread so much positivity in the fan space. Thank you for painting Heinrix and Isha and offering the same to so many other Heinrix fans. <3

@archtech-fox - your comic reinterpretation of many RTs with Heinrix was a genius stroke. Thank you for gifting me my own special Heinrix x Isha comic strip! <3 Thank you, too, for being a darling in Heinclub and a proud star board member. Your unique humour and deadpan delivery are one for the ages. Keep on being you! <3

Special shout out to:

@unsupervised-threat Ark, your one-time live reading reaction game to one of my chapters lives as screenshots on my PC. Whenever I feel down, I browse through it, and it never fails to make me smile. Thank you for that and for being a positive force on Heinclub!

I'm sorry, I will have missed a lot of talented people, but this post is getting too long already. Thank you all for keeping the Heinrix fandom such a positive and tight-knit experience. <333

[yellbug]

hey i keep seeing a really disdainful post on my dash about how the op is sick of women talking about how they have body dysmorphia. it's really weird and cruel and I don't want to reblog it, but I also don't want to see any more posts like that and I want to talk about why. In short, believing in vanity and that I was doing the sin of vanity by obsessive-compulsively agonizing about my appearance did not help with my body dysmorphia, and I don't think it would be effective for a single human being alive.

believe me I know people look down on me for having this problem because it's "not real" and I could "just get over it".

to give an idea of it, when it was bad it felt and looked to me as if my face was melting or being pulled in different directions by hooks. you can talk a big game about how when you talk about this you're not talking about "legitimate" cases if you want to, and you might even believe it yourself, but I think that's a bunch of fucking horseshit. I think people who are in agony over their appearance and who see themselves as monstrous when to others they appear normal have body dysmorphia.

I totally get how people agonizing over this towards you could make your own issues worse. it is worth complaining about a culture that makes a pastime of self-loathing for women. It is also definitely complicated and inconvenient to be around a delusional person. However, I would suggest that if your problem is that people are coming to you with stuff like this, that you set boundaries about it. I certainly had to. there are people who I have told I will no longer talk about their body issues because I cannot do it.

The MAIN thing that helped me was escaping from the environment that caused these distortions and being around people who see me in a genuine way. But when I did used to encounter disdain about having this problem the most often, it sounded just like this and made everything worse. because this is really misogynist. The evil self-destructive vanity of women is a very very old idea and it is oppressive. it doesnt help body dysmorphia at all to talk about people like me with so much contempt, or to call us stupid as op does later in the post.

It also helped me a lot to approach my appearance in a curious, interested way and try to let go of the weird awful misogynist hatred that permeates that post. I think it can be really scary to try and be kind about this towards yourself and stop punishing yourself for vanity.

I don't know if I would have ever been able to get better if I had not been able to get away from the environments that were causing this in me. And if i had been less fortunate, I wouldn't have. Anyway I don't want to see any more posts like this and I'm shocked it crossed my dash in the first place.

[duckprintspress]

My June Reads

Storygraph introduced auto-generated graphics for sharing our reads by the month, which makes it much easier to do a review, and here I am! Sorry it's kinda pixelly, the settings on Storygraph aren't perfect yet but they're planning to add functionality.

I've been posting on the Duck Prints Press Book Lover's Server for a while, so everyone knows there that the answer to "how do you read so much?" is the library, but just to be clear, if it's a graphic novel, I got it from one of three libraries - either my local system, @queerliblib, or the Japan Foundation Library. The last two are both free-throughout-the-US Libby libraries and they've both been awesome.

Prose books, I usually own.

Anyway. Onward! My June reads:

How to Love: A Guide to Feelings and Relationships for Everyone by Alex Norris (graphic novel, short self-help stories about how to be in relationships, how to be alone, etc., all very inclusive.

Blue Flag Vol. 1 - 2 by Kaito (manga series about modern high school and a young man and his best friend - who has a crush on him - and a young woman and her best friend - who has a crush on her. poly vibes.)

The Tea Dragon Festival and The Tea Dragon Tapestry by K. O'Neill (graphic novels, very fluffy fantasy slice-of-life with various queer rep)

Squad by Maggie Toluda-Hall and Lisa Sterle (graphic novel, modern with magic, wlw high school student discovers that fitting in with the cool kids means becoming a murderous werewolf)

Clementine vol. 1 and 2 by Tille Walden (graphic novel, post-apocalyptic set in the same 'verse as The Walking Dead about a wlw amputee surviving against the zombies.

A Thousand Hopes, A Thousand Risks by Kelas Lloyd (short story, fantasy, pre-mlm between a young merchant and a god)

Ride On, Shooting Star by J. D. Harlock (short story, science fiction, a space courier wants to retire)

Deadendia vol. 1 by Hamish Steele (graphic novel, modern with magic/horror elements, about a trans male teenager who runs away from home and moves into a haunted house at an amusement park)

Giant Days vol. 2 by John Allison and Whitney Cogar (graphic novel, modern college setting, about the somewhat silly lives of the main characters)

Yona of the Dawn vol. 1 by Mizuho Kusanagi (manga, fantasy, about a young princess whose kingdom gets taken over by someone she thought a friend)

In the Dark vol. 3 by Jin Shisi Chai (danmei novel, mlm, last of three volumes - I read the other two in May - about an undercover drug cop who returns home after six years undercover)

The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation manhua vol. 6 by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu (manhua version of the MDZS novel, mlm, historical cultivation about a fraught political situation)

The Fox Maidens by Robin Ha (graphic novel playing on story of the fox maiden Gumiho in Korean mythology, with a side of wlw)

My Hero Academia vol. 9 - 12 by Kohei Horikoshi (manga series about teenagers at a high school for superheroes)

Frontera by Julio Anta and Jacoby Salcedo (graphic novel about a young man crossing the border between the US and Mexico illegally, and about the mlm ghost who helps him)

My Lesbian Experience with Loneliness by Nagata Kabi (autobiographical manga about a young lesbian in Japan trying to figure out her identity and find companionship)

Solo Leveling vol. 1 - 2 by Chugong (a manwha series set in modern fantasy Korea, about a young man is terrible at "hunting"...until he isn't)

Haikyu!! vol. 5 - 6 by Haruichi Furudate (manga series about young men who play high school volleyball)

Little Birds by Anaïs Nin (a collection of short erotic stories with lots of trigger warnings applicable and a few dashes of wlw, originally written in the 1930s and 1940s)

To Strip the Flesh by Oto Toda (manga collection of short stories, with the longest/most involved being about a young man's journey coming out as a trans man)

Shubeik Lubeik by Deena Mohamed (graphic novel exploring three stories of Egyptians getting first-grade wishes in a modern-with-magic world, includes NB rep)

Limerence by Jiang Zi Bei (danmei novel, mlm, about a young college student who breaks up with his boyfriend and ends up falling for his ex's roommate.)

Our Colors by Gengoroh Tagame (manga about a young Japanese gay man coming our of the closet and making friends/finding a mentor in an older gay man)

Silent Hearts vol. 1 by Jing Shui Bian (danmei novel, mlm, modern high school setting, lots of disability rep though not for either member of the main couple)

Rainbow! vol. 1 by Sunny (modern, maybe with magic, about a young woman with a tough life and the people around her; wlw implied in the future?)

Out of Left Field by Jonah Newman (real-life-inspired graphic novel about a young gay man navigating high school)

Escape From St. Hell: My Trans Life Levels Up by Lewis Hancox (autobiographical graphic novel about a young trans man with severe anxiety)

This was the most pages I've read in a month all year, and the second most individual books. There's actually one more book not pictured, as it wasn't on Storygraph and I opted not to add it.

Happy reading, y'all.

[mooreaux]

Hi! Your art is so gorgeous!! I discovered you through the Nightmarket IF, and I've since then marvelled at your illustrations!

I wanted to ask what advice you would give to someone if they're hesitant to share their illustrations publicly and if you could recommend any software/hardware? How did you get started doing what you do?

Hi there! First off, thank you for the love :D

Working on the night market with dear Zinnia is a passion project for me and it's awesome to know people enjoy it!

As for software/hardware: I started on a wacom bamboo tablet with Paint tool SAI. That was... like fifteen years ago now haha! For the last six years I've been working on ipad pros with apple pencils and procreate for my drawing program. I really love procreate! It's super intuitive and very 'pokey' (Aka I can jab at the screen with my finger and things happen which pleases me) It's also a REALLY easy program to learn which is great for me because despite being a digital artist, I am absolutely terrible with programs and technology in general.

As for sharing.... just jump in! I know that sounds kinda crazy, but hear me out. You'll never do it if you don't do it. Even if you gotta shut your eyes and cringe as you hit the button, just start posting! I would also recommend drawing for a fandom, as that'll get more eyes on your stuff and help build a following. That's just me tho, as I'm a big ole nerd who likes a lot of fandom content hehe.

I also wanna say: interact with other people's stuff! Don't be shy, leave a reply, fill up reblog tags with comments. Make connections! I'm super shy when it comes to maintaining convos thru discord servers and groups, but I love commenting on pieces of art and comics that really jive with me. It's a two way street: you give love, and a lot of the time you get love in return. It helps humanize the whole experience and make it a bit less scary, I feel!

Good luck to you friend, I hope to see ur beautiful art cross my dash one day!

[fandomsandfairytales]

Fic Recs for Elrond Week 2024

Hello! Here’s a last-minute handful of Elrond-centric fic recs to wrap up Elrond Week 2024. (Time got away from me this week!)

These fics are all rated G or T, and I’ve loosely categorized them into groups so it’s a bit easier to parse through them. I also noted ones I recc’d in my 2023 Fic Recs list, which I posted on my main blog, @awwyeah107. I'm tagging each author in this list once (if they have a Tumblr account), although there may be more than one story from an author in the list.

Also, to clarify, none of these were written *for* Elrond Week—these are all simply fics about our beloved peredhel that I've enjoyed and wanted to share/recommend.

Massive shoutout to @meluiloth for putting on Elrond Week! I’ve greatly enjoyed seeing all the posts this week cross my dash. Also, thank you to all of the fic authors, fan artists, and meta writers out there who celebrate Elrond ❤️

Elrond & [Biological or Married] Family

The Complexities of Avian Biology by @runawaymun Celebrían takes on a charity case. Elrond helps, because of course he does. Some Celrond fluff by request. (Oneshot, G, 776 words)

Without depth or bound by waitingfover Love is never an easy emotion to navigate, particularly if you also hate the other person's guts. or Elrond doesn’t like Celebrían’s attitude, Celebrían hates Elrond’s guts, Gil-Galad is determined to play matchmaker, and Celebrimbor just wants to be left out of this drama. (23 chapters, complete! T, 29k words)

Wealth Enough of Joy by @starspray Elladan and Elrohir are born at twilight in summer. (Oneshot, G, 1.6k words. Recc’d this in my 2023 Fic Recs list)

Athelas by erulisse_starchild Estel gets a lesson in herb-lore from Elrond. (Oneshot, G, 831 words)

Hiding Places by @sweetteaanddragons (Drag0nst0rm on AO3) It had been a long time since Elrond was last under a bed. The novelty was probably good for him. (Oneshot, G, 437 words)

Kind as Summer by @arofili (starlightwalking on AO3) Elrond and his family, after the First Age. A collection of ficlets from tumblr prompts, loosely related to one another. (8 chapters, complete! G, 2.1k words)

More than the Stars Above by sweetteaanddragons (Drag0nst0rm on AO3) Elrond had lived without his parents for this long. He could certainly continue to do so if they proved to be indifferent. That didn't stop his hand from shaking when he reached out to knock on the door. (2 chapters, complete! G, 5.6k words. Recc’d this in my 2023 Fic Recs list)

Blossoming Red by @bralesscommie Snapshots of Elrond throughout his life. A character study. Elrond dealing with his trauma, and finding his rare moments of joy. (Oneshot, T, 4.9k words)

Elrond & Friends

Demons by @theheirofashandfire (ScribeofArda on AO3) On a dark night in Imladris, with the Watchful Peace having come to a bloody end, one elf finds that the darkness brings back unwanted memories of flames and fear. And Glorfindel can remember all of the fall of Gondolin. (Oneshot, T, 4.5k words)

Old Swords by StarSpray Elrond and Gandalf chat about Glamdring. (Oneshot, G, 661 words)

Primary Sources by @cycas (bunn on AO3) Bilbo Baggins, now living in Rivendell is working on his Translations from the Elvish and needs some help. He learns a few things about Elven board games, plumbing and housework in Rivendell, a little bit about the War of Wrath, and something about Elrond's family. It might just be that making songs about Eärendil in the House of Elrond was not something that Elrond himself considered to be over Bilbo's head. (Oneshot, G, 4.4k words)

Kidnap Fam

Note: All of the Kidnap Fam fics here are Elrond-centric—either they are from his perspective, or they primarily focus on Elrond and Maglor and/or Maedhros.

And Love Repaid by sweetteaanddragons (Drag0nst0rm on AO3) It was never about owing. (Oneshot, G, 2.3k words)

See How They Grow by @grundyscribbling (Grundy on AO3) Elrond wasn't born a great healer. Some would have said living among Feanorians was an unlikely place to start that journey. (Maglor probably would have agreed with them.) (Oneshot, G, 11.7k words)

Rosemary, Fennel, & Rue by grundyscribbling (Grundy on AO3) Maedhros stumbles onto an unhealthy secret Elrond has been keeping. Elrond is surprised to find Maedhros has experience in these matters. (Oneshot, G, 5.7k words)

Once They Were Wolves by @elentarial (BaccaratBlack on AO3) After receiving an unexpected Midwinter gift, Elrond learns something new about one of his captors fathers. (2 chapters, complete! G, 2.4k words)

Quiet by sweetteaanddragons (Drag0nst0rm on AO3) Dust blanketed Maglor’s harp where it sat undisturbed in the corner. (Oneshot, G, 566 words)

Series

On Elrond Peredhel by @elvinye (leodesic on AO3) A series examining Elrond's kidnap-adoption [and Elrond himself] from a variety of different perspectives. (In-progress series of 13 works, each between 1-2 chapters, all rated T or G. Only AO3 users can read this fic.) (Note: For anyone who does not ship Russingon—like me—the series does contain it, but it is minor and can be skipped over fairly easily.)

Return to Aman by cycas (bunn on AO3) A series of stories about Elrond's return to Aman at the end of the Third Age. All these assume that Maglor son of Fëanor was one of the other unnamed Elves who accompanied Elrond, Galadriel, Gandalf, Frodo and Bilbo on the ship when they left Middle-earth. Point of view is usually either Maglor or Elrond, but occasionally someone else (Celebrian, Lalwen, Nerdanel...) (Complete series of 15 works, each between 1-5 chapters, all rated G. Recc’d this in my 2023 Fic Recs list)

AUs

The Last Homely Hostel by sweetteaanddragons (Drag0nst0rm on AO3) Barin was nearly entirely sure this hostel wasn't supposed to be here. It won't be the last unexpected appearance of the night. (Oneshot, G, 5k words)

we will make this place our home by @leucisticpuffin Elrond and Elros are sent to live with their distant cousins in a house that is crumbling slowly to pieces. They aren't especially happy about this. For Maedhros and Maglor, the twins are a rare chance to start living again. It will take a lot of work to turn a house full of ghosts into anything resembling a home. (70 chapters, in-progress! G, 259.5k words. Only AO3 users can read this fic. Recc’d this in my 2023 Fic Recs list)

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@elrondweek

Other Fic Rec Lists: 2023 Fic Recs (on my main blog) 2024 Fic Recs (on my main blog)