#it’s not just the fun of people who are good that matters

[voxslays]

SQUID GAMES MEN’S HOBBIES

TLDR: What the squid games men would do with you for fun… A/N: I got bored so I binged all of season one in a day yesterday (I have a problem. I’m too obsessed with this show).

HWANG IN-HO

❀ Coming up with ideas for the next games (and playing them). Don’t get me wrong, In-ho is a brilliant man—but sometimes even he gets stumped on new ideas for the games. But with you by his side, it all seems to come to him so much easier.

❀ Your imagination seems infinite, seeing as you come up with so many good ideas (glass bridge, mingle, etc). And when you’re done? You play them together with the guards just for funsies. You truly know how to make In-ho feel like a kid again.

THE SALESMAN (GONG YOO)

❀ Ddakji. Must I say more? This guy loves Ddakji so much it’s basically his job—well, that and recruiting people with money struggles or debt into a death game! But you don’t know that part yet.

❀ Although Gong-Yoo usually wins, it’s always fun to see your cute little faces when you’re focusing, or when you mess up. Unlike the slaps he usually gives to his elders (or anyone for that matter), when you mess up, all you have to do is give him a little kiss.

THANOS (CHOI SU-BONG)

❀ Thanos loves writing his raps with you. It takes him quite a while to write his songs—but with you it goes ten times faster. In Su-bong’s mind, you are his muse, and he usually sits in his studio, at his desk, with you on his lap.

❀ Thanos is usually the one to write the first lines, while you come up with the rhymes. According to Thanos, you are the smartest person he knows, so who better to help him with his rhyming? That, and he just loves any excuse for you to be on his lap (and cockwarm him).

KANG DAE-HO

❀ Cooking. Growing up with four older sisters, he learned a lot of ‘girly’ things (as his father would say) from them. From cooking to sewing, he can do it all! So really, it’s no surprise that every night he has off, he wants to help you cook.

❀ Dae-ho is also very helpful in the kitchen. If you’re stirring, he’s mixing. If you’re cutting, he’s mashing. With his help, you can get a meal with an hour preparation down to around a half hour. This man is crazy skilled, and not afraid to deviate from the recipe a bit.

[tinysunshine]

━━━ ✧˖° 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐓: 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐋 𝐃𝐈𝐗𝐎𝐍

- a = aftercare (how he takes care of you after sex)

daryl doesn’t do the kind of ‘aftercare’ you read about in fics. bringing you a snack, talking you down from a hazy headspace, telling you everything will be alright - those things don’t happen with him. they don’t need to.

every time you have sex with daryl, it feels good. amazing. he fucks you, not just because he wants to get off, but because he wants to make you feel good too. he won’t admit it, but he likes the closeness of it. the intimacy that is sex. when you’re both done, sweaty and tired and coming down from an orgasm high, he’ll help clean you up - and if you ask, he’ll bring you some water. cuddle you extra tight, tell you how much he loves you.

of course, if kink is involved, daryl would do more to make sure you’re okay after a scene, but regular intercourse doesn’t warrant anything special after. because every moment with daryl is special. and when you’re around him, you know that he’ll take care of you and make sure you’re okay at all times.

- b = body part (his favorite body part of yours)

daryl likes boobs and ass. just as much as any other guy. but for different reasons.

he would never look at a woman and think ‘wow, she’s hot because of her huge tits’ or anything like that. while he might notice certain physical things about a woman’s body, he really could care less. daryl dixon does not let lust or his cock run his life - and in the world he lives in, that’s a good thing. he has more important things to focus on.

if you’re dating daryl, he likes your boobs because they’re yours. he likes your ass because it’s yours. he doesn’t have a type. it doesn’t matter if you’re skinny, tall, petite, thick - if you managed to get close to daryl, believe that he adores every inch of your body and everything about you.

- c = cum (anything to do with cum)

daryl will kiss you after you suck his dick and swallow his cum. he doesn’t care if your mouth still tastes salty, doesn’t mind the taste of himself. he also doesn’t necessarily think it’s hot, just - it is what it is. sex is natural. sex is dirty. that’s what daryl believes, anyway.

he loves the taste of your cum. is obsessed with the concept of squirt. he loves spending majority of foreplay, or even just for fun, going down on you and fingering you. i imagine him with the bottom part of his face slick, your inner thighs stinging from his facial hair rubbing against them, his lips looking glossy from your juices after he gave you a few orgasms. his smile from between your legs is probably shy and loopy as he licks the taste of you from his fingers.

- d = dirty secret (a dirty little secret of his)

daryl would never verbally admit this - but he loves when you call him daddy.

and not in that, who’s your daddy? kind of way, that’s a little degrading and a whole lot of powerful. daryl just loves what it stands for - that he’s taking care of you. that you trust him.

and, okay, maybe feeling like he has that power over you is a little hot. but it’s not the main reason he likes it.

when you curl up next to him and call him that name, snuggle into his side, or just tease him to ask for something using that name and a sweet voice - god, it gives him butterflies, makes him eager to do whatever he can do to make you happy. because he loves taking care of you. loves spoiling you in whatever way he can.

the name is romantic to him, but at the end of the day - also a little kinky. the fact that you trust him the way you do means everything to him.

- e = experience (how experienced is he? does he know what he’s doing?)

daryl doesn’t have a lot of experience - but that’s by choice.

people can think what they want about daryl, but women want him. because not only is he physically hot, he’s also untrained - in that dirty, masculine way every woman secretly wants a piece of. in his life, daryl has had many admirers, but just a few partners.

in fact, most of the women he’s been with sexually have probably been older than him. kind, soft, they took good care of him while he learned the ropes. maybe that’s why he’s so good with his tongue and fingers and cock - older women with more experience, who could see the appeal that the women his age maybe couldn’t back then, have taught him well.

so, yes - daryl knows what he’s doing, and he does it well.

- f = favorite position (this one goes without saying)

in the beginning, when he’s getting comfortable and more vulnerable with you, daryl is a little scared of missionary. it’s a lot of pressure, to have your pretty face looking up at him - you can see how he’s feeling, and he can see the way you’re feeling. wonders if you’re enjoying yourself, if he’s making any weird faces. he’s also a little scared to admit just how much he enjoys himself with you, no matter how silly that sounds.

daryl just wants to impress you. he just wants you to feel good.

as you get more serious in your relationship, missionary becomes his favorite because of the intimacy that looking into each other’s eyes brings. he also loves doggy, because duh, and he loves showing off his strength by holding you up against a wall and fucking you like that, just bouncing you up and down on his cock like you weigh nothing. because to a man as strong as him - you are light. no matter what your body type.

and when you ride him? god, it’s so overwhelmingly good he could just about cry. but really, any position, as long as he gets to put his dick inside of you, is perfect for him.

- g = giving (is he more of a giver, or a receiver?)

giver. daryl isn’t a sexual person unless he’s really into someone - and if he’s really into you, then his sexuality is pretty much…you. he could please you and focus on just your pleasure for hours, even if it’s at the expense of his own. whatever you want to do in the bedroom, he’ll try. even if he gives you a funny look, or teases you about it, he’ll give it a chance.

if it’s something super kinky, he might be hesitant - but ultimately daryl just wants to make you happy. seeing you turned on turns him on. definitely a giver.

‘you’re a little weird, ya know?’ he murmurs, face flushed when you ask him to dominate you a certain way, or do something dirty. but he’s a good sport - he’ll do it, whatever it is, especially when he sees how much it turns you on.

- h = hair (how well groomed is he? his thoughts on body hair, his partner’s and his own)

this might be surprising to some, but daryl is well groomed. his hair is pretty light but he keeps it trimmed, because even though he has the reputation of someone who doesn’t give a fuck, he’s actually hygienic. uses bar soap, freshens up everyday. he’s just really active and outside all the time, which is how he gets dirty so fast. and he doesn’t care what he looks like, not when the world is the way it is. but he’s not unhygienic. he smells manly, woodsy, musky in the best way possible.

as for your hair, he really doesn’t care. daryl has literally eaten raw squirrel meat just to survive. he’s rough and tough and a survivor - you think he cares about fucking body hair? he’ll go down on you no matter what your grooming situation, will cuddle next to you and touch your body no matter if you shaved yesterday or haven’t touched a razor in months.

although, if you do happen to be smooth, soft and hairless just because that’s something you prefer, he definitely notices. can’t believe someone as sweet and pretty as you even lets his rough fingertips touch your body, but overall, body hair is not a factor in his attraction towards you. not at all.

- i = intimacy (how is they during the moment? the romantic aspects)

when daryl loves you, he’s romantic all the time. without even knowing it. for some reason, he’s under the impression that he’s not romantic. maybe he thinks that romance is red roses and money and expensive dinners, things that don’t matter in the world you’re both living in. he also has a bit of a self esteem issue - he doesn’t really see himself for who he is, you know? he’s amazing, and everyone knows that. he’s the one who has a hard time believing it.

he’s so romantic. in the way he takes care of you. listens to you. he’s a sweetheart, wrapped in a tough package. when you’re having sex, he’s the same daryl he always is. intense, thoughtful, voice a little mumbled even as he tells you how tight you are, how good you are for him, how much he cares about you.

he loves you, you know that with all your heart - but acts of service, sometimes gift giving is the way he shows it. the words i love you are rarely explicitly verbalized. but he fucks you so good that it’s obvious.

giving you orgasms is an act of service and a gift at the same time, right?

- j = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

daryl doesn’t just jerk off for the fuck of it. never gets horny and immediately think, ‘lemme touch myself.’ if you’re dating him, he’ll just put the moves on you, because he’d rather watch you not waste a drop of his cum then get it all over his hand. if he’s single, he definitely only gets himself off when he has to. when its been so long it’s starting to become a need, and his body is desperate for release.

god, he looks so hot laying on his back, perfect arms flexing as he jerks himself off. it’s easy to imagine. it’s also easy to imagine watching him cum all over his stomach and licking it off -

okay, maybe he lets you watch him get himself off one time. tells you to take your clothes off in front of him while he strokes himself, embarrassed, and so turned on at the way you clean up his mess with your cute, pink tongue.

- k = kink (one or more of his kinks)

daryl isn’t the kinky sex god everyone in the fandom makes him out to be. he has his moments, sure, but the only time he’d ever do something truly kinky is if you asked.

if you wanted him to spank you, or lightly choke you, or roleplay a little - he’d awkwardly do it in his own cute, grumpy way.

the way he naturally is, and the dynamic he has with you - some might think there’s elements of kink to it. he’s such a man, but he’s also sort of versatile. would let you dominate him, although not aggressively, even while he’s on top of you. he’d think it’s hot if his woman told him how to fuck her, demanded things - he definitely thinks a little bit of a brat is sexy.

there’s something very primal about sex with daryl, but it comes naturally to him. he’s a little bossy with you, even if you have him whipped. when you fuck, he takes what he wants, he’s a man about it, and that’s endlessly sexy to you.

- l = location (favorite places to fuck and mess around)

bed.

it seems boring, but having a bed and a roof is a luxury these days. there was a long time when daryl didn’t have anything to sleep on but a thin sleeping bag, and even worse, a hard fucking prison bed. fuck the tent, fuck the outdoors - you’re precious to daryl, and he wants to fuck you somewhere that’s worthy of you.

he’ll also fuck you over a couch, or in the shower. and, okay - he’ll fuck you outside or behind a tree or wherever you want if you’re desperate for it, but he definitely prefers to have you on his soft mattress, bedroom door closed, so he can give you the princess treatment you deserve and fuck you like -

the girlfriend he adores.

- m = motivation (what turns him on, gets him going)

you.

all day and all night long. anything and everything about you. he wants to please you. make you happy. take care of you. he can’t rest if you’re unhappy, can’t cum unless you’re completely satisfied. doesn’t want to even have a good time unless you’re having one too.

anything and everything you do turns him on. just by being yourself, you get that man going like nothing and nobody else. it’s kind of your superpower, you think sometimes - the effect you have on daryl dixon.

- n = no (something he wouldn’t do, turn offs)

he doesn’t want to hurt you.

even if you ask for it, tell daryl you’ll be fine and him getting rough with you turns you on - he’ll be hesitant.

i don’t think daryl would ever tell you no. he’s pretty inexperienced, but when it comes to anything kinky, you have to tell him what you want, and he might be freaked out. if you asked him to spank you, he might look at you like you’ve grown a second head. ‘you know i’m a lot stronger than you, don’t you?’ he’ll say, as if you’re literally insane, and you’ll nod and roll your eyes, telling him in your best brat voice, ‘that’s the point.’

daryl will do whatever you want, and he’ll enjoy it because making you happy turns him on - but i think anything that could hurt you scares him a little.

- o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

giving.

of course, he loves receiving head because who doesn’t? but come on. you know that man is obsessed with eating pussy. loves to get dirty and sticky and wet between your thighs, or have you sit on his face so he can feel you all over him. bonus points if you’re thick: because the weight of you on his face, your smell and your taste and just you on top of him could literally make him cum untouched if he tried hard enough.

daryl loves to give - and he’s so fucking good at it. partially from skill, but mostly because he’s so enthusiastic. will jump at any opportunity to go down on you.

- p = pace (is he fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

daryl isn’t inherently rough.

but he is. he’s just so big, and kind of unaware of his strength, and when he’s enthusiastic and excited and you beg him to flip you onto your stomach and fuck you silly - he’s going to do it. he’s so strong, and anytime he puts his hands on you while he’s fucking you, it always feels a little rough. the good news is: you love it. because even when he’s rough, doesn’t realize how hard he’s gripping your hips or folding your legs into your chest so he can fuck you at a better angle, he’s still so sensual. can go so slow. make you feel so loved.

sex with daryl makes you feel like a prized possession, and when he’s inside of you, you want it to last forever.

- q = quickie (his opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

daryl can get you off quickly, but it takes him a little longer to cum. his pleasure centers around your pleasure, and if you feel good - he’s satisfied, even if he doesn’t cum himself.

a quickie for daryl means quickly getting you off fast. with his fingers or mouth and tongue, or his cock, even if he tucks it back into his pants, slightly hard, and pulls his shirt over the bulge while you’re still shaking from your orgasm. as long as you’re satisfied, so is he.

he wants to savor the chase of his orgasm for longer than just a quickie while the rest of your group is momentarily occupied or you finally have some free time together during the day. if you want sex, he’ll happily oblige, but long nights with daryl are more his style.

- r = risk (is he game to experiment? does he take risks? etc.)

daryl doesn’t take risks when it comes to sex. meaning: it’s rare that he’ll fuck you somewhere where others could hear or walk by and catch you both. you’ve had a few outside romps for sure, but if there’s a bed or a couch or a roof over your head, daryl will always pick that. it’s not that he doesn’t want to have fun, he just wants to make sure you’re getting the best experience. what kind of boyfriend would he be if he let you get grass stains on the knees of your pants if he bent you over outside? he’d never put you in a degrading position like that.

unless, of course, you ask for something like that. even if he’s huffing and puffing, mumbling ‘yer crazy, girl’ under his breath about a sexual request you have - he’ll always try to please you. and honestly, he can’t deny you when you’re all over him, begging for a little risk, especially when life is more settled. how can he tell you no when you’re pulling at his sleeve and rubbing your tits against his arm, asking him to take you behind a tree even with the rest of your group close by?

with daryl, you pretty much always get what you want.

- s = stamina (how many rounds can he go for? how long does he last?)

once daryl cums, he’s good. doesn’t see the need to go an extra round and exert himself - because he’s definitely fucking tired after giving you a pounding. when he fucks you, he uses all his strength, makes you cum so many times before he lets himself cum that you’re too exhausted to go another round even if he wanted to. he can last a long time, with foreplay and blowjobs and making you cum around his cock - which is why he’s usually beat for a few hours after he finally lets himself spill. it really doesn’t take him long to be ready again once he cums, but one round with daryl is deeply satisfying.

- t = toys (does he own toys? does he use them? on a partner or himself?)

daryl doesn’t use toys on himself. wouldn’t even think to do that.

at first, he honestly doesn’t like the thought of you using toys. not because he’s insecure - he literally just doesn’t understand why you need a toy if you have him. or your own fingers.

but one day, he catches you using your vibrator under the covers and he sees how fucking wet it makes you, how easy it is for that little toy to take you over the edge, and then he understands. doesn’t feel like it takes away from you, or him, or what you two do together - no, he just gets a little curious, is all.

daryl enjoys, very rarely, using a vibrator while you fuck. loves to see you come apart while you ride his cock and he holds it to your clit, the way you shudder and shake on top of him, have orgasm after orgasm after orgasm.

and sometimes, he asks you to hold it on his balls. or the base of his dick. lightly - just for a second. his face turns red and his dick leaks precum. when you bend down to lick it well -

he understands the appeal of toys now, okay?

- u = unfair (how much he likes to tease)

as hot as it would be, daryl doesn’t really sexually tease. he does do it verbally though, when you’re crawling on his lap after he already spent the better part of an hour between your legs, fingers almost pruning from how long they’d been inside of you as he licked at your pussy. “you ready to go again jus’ like that?’ he’ll tease, all while heat creeps into your cheeks at how easy you are for him. but even when he teases you, you never feel ashamed for sharing any need you have with daryl. he doesn’t judge.

well, he does - but he never judges you.

- v = volume (how loud he is, what sounds he makes, etc.)

he’s not loud. partially because he’s just a quiet person, but also because he’s used to constantly being around people and sharing a living space. his voice is soft even when he talks dirty, little grunts and moans leaving his mouth so quietly that sometimes the only way you know he’s having a good time is the feel of his dick rock hard inside of you.

it makes it all the more special when he does get a little louder. after a few drinks, when he’s more outwardly touchy and talkative, or when you suck him off so good he just can’t help the noises coming out of his mouth. it’s a glorious feeling, when you can actually get daryl dixon to moan in your ear, or press his forehead to yours as he lets out a breath, the walls of your pussy clenching around him so tight he doesn’t even know how to move.

‘fuck,’ he’ll whisper, the most delicious little whine leaving his lips. you savor those sounds, commit them to memory, keep them in the back of your mind in case you ever need to get yourself off when daryl’s not around.

- w = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

daryl never knew how much he needed a woman in his life. someone feminine, soft, to offset his masculine energy and understand the vulnerability beneath his surface.

but when he met you, someone sweet and cute and pretty and warm - everything he never thought he wanted nor needed, your presence kind of became an addiction to him.

daryl feels his dick start to chub in his pants whenever you wear a skirt, or a dress. whenever he feels your soft thigh against his leg in bed at night, or when you fit your body, so much smaller than his, on his lap or tucked under his arm. when you freak out if you see a bug because you’re scared of spiders, but not walkers, tie his hair back with little ribbons while he’s napping - he’s so incredibly fond that it makes him sick. it turns him on, the woman you are, and it’s like his dick is half hard the entire day when you wear anything pink or floral print.

you make him crazy in the best way.

- x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

hard body. toned, every inch of him. slightly tan, skin the most beautiful bronzed color in the summer, blemish free. his cock is big, but not overly so - perfect size, perfect color. the head of his dick is sort of pink, soft. he’s too hot for his own good, too beautiful, and he doesn’t even know it. actually blushes, when you lick your lips as he gets undressed, but daryl’s naivety about his own good looks is kind of part of his charm.

- y = yearning (how high is his sex drive?)

daryl is ready to fuck and get sucked at all times. but it’s not his main goal - he’s got a lot of shit to do, a lot of people depending on him, and he can go a long time without cumming. not that he wants to - especially not when he’s with you.

whenever you want to fuck, daryl is game. if you want his cock, you’re going to get it. don’t get it wrong - he is initiating. he can tell when you want to be fucked, because you go all quiet with your eyes glassy, or the opposite, you’re loud and a little bratty, begging him to just give you some type of release that you can’t get on your own. he knows you well, and he’s got you. ‘okay, pretty girl,’ he’ll say, leading you by the hand to a private area. ‘lemme make you feel better.’

daryl has a high sex drive, but until he met you, getting off was just never a big deal to him.

- z = zzz (how quickly he falls asleep afterwards)

very fast. such a cutie. he puts his all into it when he’s fucking you - and he’s not trying to be intense, that’s just how he naturally is regarding everything about you. he’s always giving his all when it comes to you, in any situation. but there’s also the fact that - he doesn’t know how else to be?

doesn’t understand men who’d let their woman do all the work during intercourse - it makes no sense to him, and the thought actually makes him uncomfortable. because of this, he’s definitely exhausted after he cums. if he fucks you at night, he’s passing the fuck out afterwards. if it’s a quickie during the day, he’s tucking his dick back in his pants after you’re done, grumbling something about ‘never getting a chance to nap anymore’ or some shit while you stifle a giggle.

‎ ‎ original template credit

[revscarecrow]

Hi Rev! That time is upon us once again, do you have any tips for first time protesters?

1. Wear nice walking shoes cause you are going to be out there for a bit and your feet will hurt.

2. Have a game plan. Are you down to get physical? Are you able to be arrested? No shame in saying no. I'm not much for physical altercations with the police myself. But you need to make that decision before your blood starts boiling. The energy is infectious and will lead you to make mob mentality decisions. Remember what you decided and don't go beyond that limit.

3. Weather appropriate precautions. If it's hot bring sun screen and water if it's cold bring a coat. It's simple but most of what I did as a street medic was giving people water or blankets.

4. Have a number you will call if you get arrested. Memorize it or write it on your arm in sharpie. Mom dad lawyer friend whatever. Someone for if things go tits up.

5. Cops don't like being filmed doing messed up stuff but they will do it. Violence comes after dark. The news won't stand around all day so after some b roll and an interview or two they will go home. Then they can interview the cops in the morning where they can say a couple of bad actors caused a scene and they were arrested but largely the protest was peaceful (or was a riot if you aren't white). This will be an easy way for them to get away with kicking your ass. This happens every time a protest goes long.

6. Go with a friend. It just feels good to have someone you know watching out for you.

7. Have an escape plan and park your car a bit away from the protest. They like to camp out the local parking areas to catch protestors who evaded the police cordon.

8. Password lock your phone. Don't use biometrics. A password lock keeps the cops out when they arrest you. They can't force you to give that information.

9. Cops don't like lefties. If you are not a right wing loser they do not give a shit about your rights.

10. Most of this shit will not come up for your first protest but I want to prepare you for the wildest shit so you are ready for it when it happens.

11. People will yell at your from cars etc. Fuck em. People will say your protest doesn't matter. Fuck em.

12. Your protest isn't just about trying to get the government to do whatever. It's mostly about making connections. It would be rad if the government caves but it's not likely until your protest reaches a critical mass. If your numbers can be ignored they will be.

13. For your first time protest just go have fun. Don't stay out late or get physical just do a simple version. Do the chanting and make friends. Like with any group there will be creeps so be on the look out for that but most of those people are gonna be cool people.

14. Thank you. We need people who are out there doing the things. Make connections we've gotten so distant and it makes us easier to fuck with.

[smugblueenby69]

“It’s finished, it’s done. You can’t take loved away”

-excerpt from Nona The Ninth by Tamsyn Muir

I lost my mom back in 2013. I was a few months away from 13 at the time, and no matter how long it’s been since I’ve seen her, no matter how fuzzy my memories of her get, no matter how many holidays or birthdays or big events she’s not there for, no matter who I become, I have to remember that I loved her, and that she loved me too.

I’ve found myself struggling lately to even remember if I ever actually knew her, but I did know her, and who I knew I loved.

I loved her laugh. I loved her smile. I loved how kind she was. I loved that she very genuinely cared about the world. I loved that she fought for people and the injustices they faced in her own way. I loved that she decided one day when she was 12 to become a vegetarian because of her love for cows. I loved that she wasn’t ashamed to sleep with a bunch of stuffed animals. I loved that she took photos all the time, like carried a camera with her all the time just to do that. I loved that she bought stuffies for my brother and never forced gender roles on me or my siblings; we could decide for ourselves what we liked and what we didn’t. I loved that she was a safe haven for all my older sister’s friends, no matter their race, gender, sexuality, etc, she just gave them a mother figure they could rely on. I loved that she did genealogy work for people, and would take us kids to cemeteries to find head stones for people. I loved that she encouraged my siblings and I to read, and that she made it so much fun, it was a way she could bond with us. I loved that she always encouraged us to create art, I’dve never become an artist without her and her family’s background and support in art. I loved her love for animals, that again she and her side of the family always seemed to have a special way with animals, especially sick and injured ones. I loved her desire to learn and grow and change, it reminds me that she would be okay with who I am now. I loved her nerdiness. I loved her love for star trek and eragon and other media, she’d love that I’m unapologetically the same when it comes to enjoying fantasy and sci fi.

I loved my mom a lot. And that love will never go away. That love will never disappear. Nobody will ever replace my mom, and I will never replace the love I had for her. And her love for me will also never disappear. Every tear she wiped away. Every scrape she tended to and kissed. Whenever she reminded me that she would always be with me, even when she was far away, like the story she told me about “The kissing hand” on my very first day of school, where I sobbed because they wouldn’t let her walk me into my classroom. Whenever she gave me a shoulder to cry on after every terrible day of getting bullied at school. After every ounce of praise she gave me for even the smallest achievements.

I can’t take her love away, and nothing can ever take the love I have for her away, not even after all these years, and not even after 100. As long as her name is remembered, she will be loved, because she made damn well sure through her kindness and care that at least one person would remember her fondly. She touched many hearts and left a warmth never to be diminished, and I love that about her too.

And in the future, as I remember her and even learn new things about her that I didn’t know before, I will love more things about her. That is the good thing about the passage of time I guess, is that there is always more time to learn, even though she’s not here to make new memories with, I will still learn more from and about and for her, and I will love her.

Thank you mom for loving like you did, and teaching me to do the same.

grief is so crazy like what if i forget what her laugh sounds like. does she know i loved her. i miss her so much. i catch myself doing things she used to do. i wish i could call her. i miss her so much. i do a crossword puzzle. i cry while washing the dishes. does she know i loved her? my heart feels like a hummingbird. i miss her so much. what if i forget what her laugh sounds like. what if i forget.

[stellarshifter]

✨ Pst? Y'okay? I saw you have a mental breakdown in the corner (Me too, babe, me too)

Agh...shiftok ruin your vibe? Spreading bullshit? C'mere. I got ya.

✨ BREAKDOWN OF MISINFO

1. "Your script might not all happen, or be in that reality."

Like huh???

Scripting, infallible, or meaningless?

Oh babies... Scripting is infallible. Wanna know why? It's literally a GPS for your awareness to shift to the reality that all of your chaotic (and probably very fun) notes are very real in! Like, c'mon, who would even script if it meant nothing like that???? I wouldn't waste my precious time... I could be looking at vintage shops around town. Like seriously, no.

2. "You need a method to shift"

Bitch please. Do I need to astral project and beat your ass? I'll do it. Don't test me.

Look, methods are fun and all. But that's it! They're fun and can help you become aware! But that's all they are. You don't have to even to work on your subconsious. Know why? That bitch ain't catching a ride with you! You just gotta be aware. Just shift your focus.

3. "You gotta stay hydrated.." bleh bleh I don't even remember the rest.

Bullshit. Sure you should stay healthy and hydrated for you! But that's nothing to do with shifting. This vessel's priorities don't matter in terms of shifting or not!

4. "You can't age up/down that's immoral!"

...I need a minute... I dont wanna commit arson.

Who the fuck thinks they're so intilted to tell others what they can't shift to be?? You need to fucking chill. Aging up or down doesn't matter because you are literally shifting to a reality where you're that age. You will have that mentality unless you script you don't. For fucks sake, stop.

5. "You can't shift to where you're a different ethnicity/gender/sexual orientation, that's disgusting"

Again... who gave you the right? Hm? I'll wait.

Unless you're being a weird fetishist creep. Then you're good, babe. And for all of this, once again. There's infinite realities where you're all different enthcities, genders, and sexual orientations. There's nothing wrong with shifting there either!

6. "Respawning is unethical"

Okay, this started due to people misunderstanding respawning as something it is not! It is not suicide. You people need to chill on TikTok. Swear to god you fear mongers!

Respawning is just cutting ties with this reality. Which lets be honest? In its state? For the love of God, me too, honey. Me too. The only difference between respawning and permashifting is that you'll never remember this reality. There's no harm. Okay?

7. "Permashifting is not okay"

As a permashifter, fuck you. You intilted bitches spewing bullshit because you come from different circumstances.

You have no clue what people are going through, and even if they live perfect lives, you are 1000000% valid permashifting. Go home, babies. You deserve it!

8. "Shifting shouldn't be used for escapism"

Look most of us were day dreamers? Right? Right?

I was a kid with a WILD ASS imagination. I mean wild, and I come from a not so cool environment. I used shifting as escapism when I first started. And y'know what? That's okay! If you are just wanting to leave to get a break! Do it! No one can stop you. There's no shifting police.

Which..gets me to this one.

9. "The shifting police will find you"

Bitch please. Shut up. My brother in christ, what fanfic you reading?

Shifting police do NOT exist (unless you want them to. You do you)

Seriously no one. I mean no one, not even me. Not even the holiest of holiest can stop you. We live in a multiverse that does not run by morals set up by shiftokers. And no if you do something questionable the shifting police will not find you. You're safe. I promise

10. "You can get stuck in your DR!"

If we can shift to our DR we can shift again. Like what? Who let this toddler type? That doesn't even make sense.

Honey, I can assure you, you're not stuck here. You're not stuck there.

11. "You can't script relationships that's against their free will!"

Have you ever heard of infinite realities where every single thing you can ever think of exists? Yeah? Then STOOOOOP

You are shifting to a reality where those relationships exist! Where that relationship is real and mutual. Where they feel so much love for you as you do them. No forcing.

Now, if you're holding them in your basement, tying them to a chair and begging them to love you forcefully like you're in a yandere wattpad fic from 2013? Yeah, you need to rethink some things. But if not! You're good!

Whatever relationships you script are requited

12. "Your DR isn't as real as this one"

Woooo, imma throw hands. Let's go. Someone hold my hoops for me? I'm gonna beat a bitch up.

YOUR DR IS A REALITY!!!!!!

Meaning it is just as real as this one. Just as real, maybe even more real! The people are real. The places are real. The experiences are real!

13. "People shift based on genetics"

Aw yes... my new favorite reason to murder.

Anyone and their mama can shift. You can shift, I can shift, the person you randomly saw on the street can shift, fuck your pet can shift. Anyone can. Okay? We are all one. Pure awareness. That's what we all are.

None of that. We are not shifting based off anything but what we all are.

✨ That's all for today, folks. Take care, and remember, you've got this. Go shift, baby!

[ivhmavie]

she’s crazy but she’s mine

inho with an energetic s/o

first of all, just a little advice that inglesh its not my first language! be kind

a request!

༆ in the moment you and inho met, he knew you had to be his girl, despite your personality certainly different from his, and with the energy of a child, he was mesmerized by you

༆ when you guys went out, Inho liked to watch you dancing and having fun with your friends. He was amazed to see you so full of life, always with a different subject to entertain him

༆ sometimes, in-ho liked to sit and listen to you talk about some of the trouble you and your friends got into, or the random things you thought up doing when you were together

༆ it wasn't uncommon for you to come bouncing up to him, with your cell phone open in a new tiktok trend, explaining to him what he should do while positioning the camera to record

༆ for inho, it was almost comical to see you walking around the room, getting ready while telling him what you planned to do that day, while he is still lying down, just watching you. Laughing when you stop looking in the mirror and ask if he can hear you, only to hear him laugh softly and answer with a sweet “yes, darling”

༆ would encourage you to do some sport to burn off your energy, taking you and accompanying you during training, and then taking you to dinner at your favorite restaurant at the end of the night

༆ for that reason, you went to the gym together, as a couple. inho liked to keep moving and in shape, and he thought it was good that you could have an outlet for so much energy, as well as being healthy

༆ when you traveled, inho liked to let you choose the destination. For him it was fair, considering that you would be the one who would most like to go out and see the tourist attractions and explore the places

༆ inho is a morning person, custom from his years as a police officer, all his training and effort kept him fit and athletic all these years, so he wouldn't have so much trouble keeping up with your electric pace.

༆ at the end of the day, if you were still too excited to sleep, he would put on a movie for you to watch, making an effort not to fall asleep before the end and be able to hear all your comments about the actors you recognize from other works or the music theme of the singer you like

༆ you would tease him about his age, to which he would respond that you are "energetic like a child who ate more sweets than he should have", and then you would laugh at him for using an "old people" term

༆ he’s very patient with you, even when you think maybe you're going overboard and tiring him, he likes to see you excited no matter what

[seafoamreadings]

week of february 2nd, 2025

these are written predominantly for the *rising* signs but they are also intuitively "channeled" enough that they should work for any dominant energy you have! (try your sun if you don't know rising, or more advanced readers can try moon, anywhere you have a stellium, etc and see what works best for you!)

aries: venus moves into your sign this week. while venus is classically debilitated in your sign, it just means the energy is not very natural to her. venus in aries is actually lovely as a force for the beauty of justice, and she can make you quite charismatic as well. embrace aesthetics and a little romance.

taurus: while many parts of your chart are active this week, the epicenter of activity is your career, reputation, and public image/status. there are changes coming to this realm and you will do well to put some effort into aligning those changes with the legacy you want to leave, the imprint you wish to make on the world.

gemini: you have great money vibes this week, especially if you are pursuing higher education, spirituality, or foreign travel. jupiter also goes direct in your sign this week, likely bringing helpful people. remember, it's auspicious to also be a helpful person yourself.

cancerians: if you need to do any reputation damage control or prettying up your social media or resume/cv, this week is a perfect time, especially once venus is ensconced in aries. in general you're going to have sort of low energy, so get lots of sleep!

leo: if a friends to lovers story is your idea of fun it's quite probable this week. you'll need to be looking out for it but it will be unmistakable when you do see it. and if that's not really your thing (or in addition to it) you can still make the most of the week's astrology by doing something really nice for a close friend, and appreciating them when they are there for you.

virgo: it's not the sort of week that you can expect things to go according to even your most impeccably laid plans. lean into your natural mutability and embrace unexpected changes instead of letting them chafe and irritate you.

libra: good air vibes continue. these are hard times broadly but for you on a personal level many good things occur and beauty exists everywhere. try to spread some of that to people who struggle more to see it.

scorpio: no matter how developed and complete you may have thought your spirituality to be, your philosophical approach to it continues to develop at light speed this week. don't try to dig in your heels about it but go with the flow instead. you are meant to change and not stagnate, fixed sign though you may be.

sagittarius: your ruling planet jupiter goes direct this week and you may even instantly feel like any stuckness in your life is magically undone and you can move forward (or at all) again. if stuckness hasn't been an issue rest assured good things are occurring for you behind the scenes if not before your eyes.

capricorn: your week consists of mainly minor influences but there is overall a push that you should be having fun, and not forcing yourself to go through rote motions for money or corporate points. it's not a bad time to "touch grass".

aquarius: jupiter direct brings you fun and even romance if you're open to it, but at the same time ceres in your sign square uranus in taurus is a strange standoff that can put you in somewhat unhealthy situations. try to form, or improve, a healthy and stable foundation so that when wobbly aspects like this come up you can regain your footing easily.

pisces: a surreal quality continues into this week. but now you may find you are a little bit more in your head than in some alternate dimension or dreamscape. keep one foot on the ground, and continue to avoid excess or addictive tendencies. indeed, it's not a bad idea to relax at home and see what good fortune just lands at your doorstep for now.

watch the transit posts in real time to have the best guide through your week. want a little more? have a look at my patreon or ko-fi.

check out my etsy for a private reading or fill out this form to set up a reading through venmo, cashapp, or paypal.

[evilminji]

Plus? The internet culture of "lol, yeah, totally bro. That cliff is REAL safe to jump off of!" Petering off into "wait... wait, this looks REAL. Should... should we CALL somebody?" "Dude, WHO?! Who's gonna take your ass seriously?!" Etc?

Cause like? They're not qualified for this. Some of them are like 12. Some are in their 40s. Some have relevant jobs or hobbies, but some? Feel helpless. That EXACT feeling of watching someone on the other side of a window getting attacked by something... and being unable to help.

The steamer is cold. Afraid. Lost. There could be bloodshed or bandits or poison. They no longer have ANY privacy. At ALL.

God forbid they're in a dark fantasy world. Or a Gritty one. Or are a woman. Shit could HAPPEN to them! The watchers fuckin KNOW the Meta! KNOW the tropes! There's probably SLAVERY or some shit there!!! Or demons! Slavery demons!!!!!!

But? If chat can get through? And they can work TOGETHER? They CAN send pictures. Here! *graph 1* *graph 2* *graph 3* this is how you ______!

Just? Imagine. This group of disparate people, dismissive and just here in passing, getting pulled in? Because it's HUMAN NATURE. To HELP. To not give up! To get their friend, the streamer who is isolated, scared, alone (like they were) back home!

Yeah, none of them TRUELY know each other. But does that mean they care less? That they are less willing to help? The streamer is both a friend and a stranger. They both care and don't yet know the REAL them. Yet? It doesn't MATTER.

The streamer is afraid. Alone. Asking for help.

How many nights? When their depression hit real bad? Or they had a fight with family or someone they cared about? Or work/school was hell on earth? Was the streamer THERE? A distraction. Fun. Something GOOD and bright, to laugh and have fun with? So the day didn't feel so shit?

They GOT you Streamer. Yeah, they were assholes before. But... uh, that's cause it was funny. They swear! They would NOT pull that shit when it actually COUNTS. Have a bespoke meme for morale. Don't worry! We totally got your folks on the phone AND your cat is fed! We had to spam your friends stream, but they figured out what was going on and went over to your house. (Only like, five of us got banned!)

Support pog!

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Do you have any thoughts about the Love square Ship? I just realized that a huge reason why they are happening is because they are 'fated to be together' just cuz they're ladybug and chat noir. Aren't the writers shooting themselves on their feet? 'Cause it just means that Adrienette only love each other because they're LadyNoir.

The love square has fallen into a trope I like to call the Sk8er Boi trap. This is a reference to the opening question of Avril Lavigne's famous song:

He was a boy She was a girl Can I make it any more obvious?

Yes. Yes you can make it more obvious! I'm not going to ship these two based on gender alone! Give them depth! Give them substance! Make me care.

To be fair, Miraculous didn't start this way. The first two seasons of the show did a decent job setting up the crushes. It wasn't amazing, but it was enough to see the potential, especially when you paired it with the fun of identity shenanigans. Those early seasons also felt like a promise that more depth would come with time as is typical in a slow burn.

Instead, as time went on, the crushes became ever more superficial because the show has committed to maintaining a status quo that doesn't allow for a deep, meaningful romance. Without that depth to really sell the ship, Miraculous is relying on the audience shipping the love square because Adrien and Marinette are the endgame couple and that's about it. The quality of the relationship doesn't matter. All that matters is that the show says that they're meant to be. It's disappointing, but annoyingly common.

For reasons beyond my understanding, there is a decent subset of the population who are happy to play this game. If the writing says, "these two are meant to be," then this audience is happy accept that no matter how little substance the couple has. Heck, they'll ship couples that are straight up toxic!

The audience in question seems to be here for the drama and the passion, not the love and depth. Give them twists that come out of no where! Give them ridiculous miscommunication! Give them poor characterization! They'll take it all so long as it's shocking and dramatic. I don't get it, but it's not a fringe preference. It's straight up popular right now. Couples like this dominate mainstream romance, YA, NA, and romantasy. They're all obsessed with drama over depth, but that's the opposite of what I want. I will take depth over drama every day.

My ideal romance is a cute boring couple made interesting by the extraordinary circumstances they're dealing with. I thought that's what the love square was going to be, but I have given up on that hope. It started to really die in season four and season five straight up killed it.

You'd think that a show aimed at kids would be free of unhealthy romances since there are a lot of topics a Y-7 show can't touch, but apparently not! Season five's love square feels like it's an awkward, kiddified version of the kind of trends that have made me avoid mainstream Romance, YA, New Adult, and Romantasy for the past few years. Every book I've tried made me rage (insert reductive "are the allos okay" joke here). So, to answer your question:

Aren't the writers shooting themselves in their feet?

Not really. They're not writing a deep nuanced romance, but they are writing the type of frustrating, drama-laden romance that some people adore. As long as a subset of those people are willing to watch Miraculous, the show will be successful. I don't get it, but Goodreads has shown me that people love this shit, so I'm stuck waiting for the current trends to die off or for a new genre to pop up that leans towards what I like. Such is life. It's not like there's nothing good out there. It's just harder to find since it's not on trend right now. Plus there's always fanfic! That's my main source of romance. I look for other things in original fiction.

[ylangelegy]

svt as haikyuu!! characters 🏐 hyung line.

★ footnotes: too much of an interval in between this and my maknae line post, but we ball! this one goes out to @ore-pheus, who is the brilliant mind behind my junhui alignment. here's to having all our interests in one place. <3

"AS LONG AS YOU'RE WITH ME, YOU'RE THE GREATEST!" — jihoon as tobio kageyama.

overbearing perfectionist. dedicated and passionate about his craft. can be sullen, short-tempered. good is not enough; the goal is to be the best. "hey. you can jump even higher."

"NO MATTER WHAT OTHER PEOPLE MAY SAY, WE ARE THE PROTAGONISTS OF THE WORLD." — wonwoo as keiji akaashi.

calm, composed. capable of calling people out on their bullshit. blunt; some may say witty. highly analytical. cheeky when the situation calls for it. "there's no time for joy or regrets. only task focus."

"NOTHING IS IMPOSSIBLE, JUST REALLY IMPROBABLE!" — soonyoung as kotaro bokuto.

bombastic, friendly, playful. tends to have mood swings. can act rather dramatically. impressive skill, morale-boosting demeanor; the ace of the powerhouse. "think about what's fun, not what's easy."

"HURRY UP AND GET ON MY LEVEL ALREADY." — junhui as rintaro suna.

deadpan outwardly. expressive with his thoughts. enjoys poking fun of his peers. snarky to friends. self-assured. picks up the slack when people are watching him. "i don't care if it's too loud or quiet."

"IF WE DON'T SHOW THEM WHAT WE'RE MADE OF NOW, WHEN THE HELL ARE WE SUPPOSED TO SHOW IT?" — joshua as daichi sawamura.

caring, responsible. terrifying when angry. always thinking of the team's best interest. mature, independent. reliable. "i can't do any fancy plays, but i can give you guys a solid foundation."

"ALL OF A SUDDEN, I FEEL INVINCIBLE." — jeonghan as toru oikawa.

flippant, flirtatious, smug. exhibits duality of being cheerful and intimidating. extremely intelligent and cunning. ambitious, one-track-minded. ambitious; works hard. "don't you ever forget my worthless pride."

"DO WHAT WE USUALLY DO; LET ME TAKE THIS CHALLENGE." — seungcheol as hajime iwaizumi.

stubborn but reliable. supportive to all. resorts to violence in getting people in line. cares immensely for his team. firm-yet-caring. excitable at times. a pillar. "someone who can't see the opponent standing right in front of him can't defeat the opponent that lies beyond!"

[covertleathers]

Chapter 1: Smiling Faces Tell Lies

AO3 Link

Rating: 18+ Explicit, drugs, sex, murder, guns, blood

Relationships: Lucanis Dellamorte/m!Rook (they/them), Neve Gallus/Bellara Lutare, Taash/Lace Harding

Chapter Summary: A campy/gritty Disco Mafia Murder story taking place in 1970s New York City. Zi (Rook) is a down on their luck thirty-something who seems to have lost everything they had in one really awful week. They decide to head to one of their old haunts - The Viper's Den - a discotheque to relieve some stress. Unfortunately, this night out throws them into a bigger web of problems involving several murders, the law, and the mob.

Author's Note: I'm honestly very excited to share this because it's been so fun to work on! I've been listening to music, watching some 70s movies, and looking through old photos. Just so you know, I'm not the type to like, preload my chapters. I just post them as soon as I think I've got one finished enough to my liking. But, I've got plenty ideas swirling in my nogging for this.

Sheer luck. The rain had just stopped before Zi parked and got out of their car around the block from The Viper's Den. The 46th St club had been crammed for at least three hours by the time Zi arrived in their finest threads close to midnight. It was too easy to slip past security and bypass the line going around the block. They couldn't afford to pay the $25 for the cover (even if they could, they weren't gonna).

Full to the brim with cigarette smoke, silk, and sweat. This had to have been the hottest basement they had ever had the pleasure of cruising through. Surrounding them were hundreds of people, writhing to the beat. Plenty of delicious specimens for them to pick up that night. Man, woman, neither, it didn't matter if they were fine.

Just a little upper, some mezcal, a sweet high, and a hottie to bed. This was exactly the Friday night they needed after this incredibly fucked up week. Varric's dead and thus the print shop closed, losing the only semblance of employment they could keep, and Davrin still wasn't returning their calls. Fuck him. Always on his high horse… Zi wasn't like him, they couldn't hold down a real job. Oh maker, they missed him. No, they told themself, Have some self respect.

As they prowled the edge of the crowd, they kept an eye out for a familiar face. Usually, he was right at the bar…Yup, Elek. A slick, young dark-haired man who's smile captured most hearts pretty easily. Unfortunately, Zi never thought to get mixed up with him sexually or romantically, mainly because they grew up together. Two Brooklyn kids who were both caught in the muck of this city. Well, Elek was doing much better than Zi. Most were.

Elek must have saw them coming because he visibly sighed and shook his head, his gold chain nearly sparkled in the club's purple and rose lighting. He took a long drag of his cigarette, then knocked it against an ash tray on the bartop. Nursing a tall glass of what Zi assumed to be beer, he watched them approach.

From what they remembered, he wasn't related to The Den's owner, whoever she was, but somehow had free range of the place for selling and gambling. He was small game, though, compared to the other sharks that swam in these waters.

Elek was a piece of home, even if he had a hard time admitting it. They had history. If there was anyone who had what they needed to make tonight an extraordinary experience, he would be the one they'd tap. Which they absolutely were about to. You know…he looked good. Maker, they needed to get laid, this was ridiculous.

"Elek!" they called with a wave. Zi had to put on their charming face, a slight sideways smile seemed to always work. "Long time no see?"

An incredulous smirk crossed his face. "Rook," he said. "Looking for work?"

"Not tonight. And I don't sell anymore." they replied with a light chuckle. If they knew anything about Elek, he couldn't resist a cute face. Zi just had to turn the charm up to one hundred. "I was thinking, you look absolutely smoking in jewel green, is this a new sports coat—"

"You still owe me two hundred bucks, Rook," Elek casually remarked examining his watch. It looked new, gold-plated maybe. He was hiding a genuine smile behind that annoyed grimace, Zi felt like they cracked him a bit. "Want to bother me when you've got some cash?"

Right, they had totally forgot about that. A few months back Elek loaned them two hundred dollars to help cover their car note. That's why I stopped coming around so often, they mused awkwardly to themself. Shit.

"About that…" they sidled up next to him on the bar, leaning on their elbow and giving him a perfectly arched eyebrow. "My boss is dead, his print shop closed. I'm out of a job. I just need a…favor."

"Fucking…" he moaned. "Zi…do you like being like this?"

They winced on the inside, but knew not to show it. That smarted. Alluring grin still plastered on their face. To win Elek over you had to be all smiles and play to his kinder side. He didn't show it often and Zi had an unfair in to his good nature. They exploited it as best as they could. "Just one hit. It's all I'm asking for. I've had an absolute shit week and you know I'll get you back…eventually...and tell your mom I said 'hi'?"

Elek, exasperated and tired of fighting Zi's simpering act procured a tiny ziplock bag of white from his coat jacket. "If it's going to get your pathetic ass out of my face…"

"I love you!"

"Can it before I change my mind," he grumbled.

Zi got a bit closer to hid it from view and scooped away a pinky nail portion of its contents. A quick sniff and it disappeared. A familiar head rush and that wonderful heat to their face. An almost instantaneous confidence boost hit their brain like lightning. Fuck this was what it felt like to be alive. Suddenly, they felt the music pumping through their body so loudly it was impossible to stop themself from moving.

"You are a godsend," they cawed before grabbing Elek's face and giving him a kiss on the cheek. "I owe you!"

"You already do, moron."

Riding that high, Zi flew to the dance floor. Fuck, nothing was better than this. Except sex. Maybe not. They couldn't decide in this state of mind and really didn't have to. The DJ made sure that anyone at the center of the dance floor could barely hear anything else but the beat. It was so loud, Zi felt their sternum bumping in time. This wasn't Soul Train. It was far messier and stickier with a layer of cigarette ash and spilled whiskey. Everyone danced with their shirts open, bodies packed tight against each other, glistening sweat rolling down their chests.

As they moved, Zi scanned the crowd for a new friend to bed. There were a fair amount of folks from what seemed like all over town. Qunari, elves, dwarves, a few humans. What mattered most to them was their moves. If Zi knew anything, great dancers were even better fucks. They would know, an art school drop out with nothing to show for it but agile feet and impeccable flexibility.

A fairly tall and lithe qunari locked eyes with them, a smile spread across her face and they drank in her long neck and silky chestnut hair. Lovely. Zi really did like brunettes. Were they in the mood for a tall glass of water or something more…exciting?

Then, Zi spotted him. Cutting through the dance floor with precision was a man in all black. Open collared shirt with rolled sleeves. A head shorter than them, built like a gymnast with slicked back black hair. He was walking with purpose in each step, slipping between revelers like a shadow. Oh, furrowed eyebrows and a determined stare! Unfortunately, they were a sucker for somber faces, too. Zi loved the look of a serious man with his mouth around their cock. It was its own kind of art.

It was probably the cocaine that made them grab his arm as he passed (it wasn't). In hindsight, they would have realized something was off. But, a bird couldn't resist a shiny object, no matter how sharp. The man paused as if snapped from a trance and whipped his head around locked eyes with them. A heavy brow, deliciously scarred lips. He was…handsome.

"You know the discoteque is for dancing!" They quipped into his ear, flashing what they knew was a captivating smile. No one could resist Zi when they turned it on tenfold. The shadowy stranger seemed surprised that someone noticed his crossing the floor. Unfortunately for him, Zi knew a good dancer when they saw one. "Show me what you can do!"

Zi studied him a bit closer in the dizzying, spinning spotlights at the center of the club. Under deep red shadows, spliced with stark white beams of light. He wore an expensive silk shirt and neatly tailored pants. Heavy leather belt. Silver diamond chain falling into some delectable looking chest hair. Italian shoes. Wow. Rich boy. They tugged his fingers and he followed with a long careful glance around. What was this guy's deal? He was acting like he had to go somewhere. "Looking for someone?"

"Yes."

A man of few words. Sexy.

"Dance with me in the meantime, I'll make it worth your while," they crooned in his ear as they sauntered closer, dragging a single finger down his chest. The stranger grasped Zi's wrist before they could pull at his belt. His grip was strong. Fine, they thought, and instead they guided his other hand to the small of their back, their waist asking his to move in time.

"One dance." The man stated firmly. They caught the accent that time. Spanish. And they picked up on deadly confidence. Zi glimpsed the ghost of a smile briefly grace his face. Oh, they had to figure out a way snag this one.

Of course they had been right. He could move. He must have been trained. They whirled together in a blur of black and maroon, keeping in step with each other as if they had done this one thousand times before. When Zi switched to a salsa, for the hell of it, he followed easily without missing a beat and took the lead. They felt lighter than air in his hands. And that was not the coke talking.

It was as if they were easily riding each other's rhythms like the tides. Their hip would collide, then separate and each instance sent their mind reeling in joy. It had been a very long time since they vibed with someone like this. They caught the smell of his cologne, musky sandalwood and leather, and that tipped them over. There had to be a way to get this guy to come home with them.

In all the nights they had cruised The Den, Zi had never seen him. Not that they knew everyone who passed through the club, but you get used to seeing the same bodies. You remember their movements. Recognize their limitations. And yearn for their possibilities. Which this newcomer had in spades.

Zi studied his face. He was half in it, half somewhere else. Espresso brown eyes scanning the club as they turned chest to chest at the center of the dance floor. It was almost unbelievable he wasn't entirely focused on the sculpted specimen before him. Zi never had this much trouble capturing someone's entire attention.

The song was coming to a slow down, ready to end this exhilarating venture. But Zi didn't want to stop. Beads of sweat were forming at their scalp from the stifling heat of a packed room. They didn't want to stop this magnetic connection. But, something had caught The Spaniard's eye, they knew they were losing him.

The stranger nodded at the end, inclining his head slightly, "Thank you—"

"No, thank you! You're an amazing dancer." they breathed, catching his wrist again before he could turn away. The music started to swallow them again. "Could I get your name? Your number? Maybe we could go out sometime? Do you like Chinese?"

He shook his head, whatever was weighing on him had his full focus now. Zi had become an afterthought, again. Expression changing dramatically to become grim and severe. The stranger was becoming more unknowable by the second.

Shit, shit, no! They panicked on the inside, I need this!

He delved back into the crowd, hand slipping from Zi's fingers with ease. The immensity of his presence on their hip left a looming empty space as he disappeared from view.

His loss, they grumbled internally and tried to let the music take them again in a haze of treble and synths. It wouldn't be hard to find someone else, they just needed to find the groove again.

Several candidates came into view as they spun through the crowns. Eventually, that Qunari woman found them again and their bodies were forced against each other as the crowd on the dance floor swelled and ebbed like tides in the harbor. Her name was Anjelika.

Zi asked over the music, "Come home with me?"

She gave an enthusiastic nod and smile. Fuck, she was gorgeous. An angel in white, Zi seemed to encircle and twirl with her for what could've been an eternity. They shared a cigarette, then an absolutely delicious kiss. Another, then another. They had feasted on her neck. She tasted like gin and lemons and ran her hand down the front of their trousers. The mysterious man slipped from their mind like water through their fingers. Only the wet essence left in his wake. Eventually, though, their high was fading.

It could have been well past 3 AM, they weren't keeping track of time. That's when the screams rang out. A record scratched and the music stopped abruptly, lights coming up to reveal the barren black walls of The Viper's Den.

"Uh…party is over, loves." The DJ stammered over the speakers, his voice slightly muffled by his facial hair against the mic. The crowd moaned in disapproval and folks weren't moving.

"Hey we paid the cover, we want to dance!" Someone said. Zi spotted a shot glass thrown at the DJ booth.

Another, "Yeah, we want to keep going!"

The sound of someone grabbing the mic and popping it against their palm, causing five agonizing seconds of horroble feedback that rocked their ears. "Get out you fucks! We're CLOSED."

Zi kept their arms wrapped around Angelika's waist, burying their face in her hair. She smelled so good. They asked again, "You coming, right?"

Then suddenly, she was all hesitation. They kissed again, her touches lingered on their neck and back, briefly pretending the music was going. There were plenty of others partiers were doing the same.

"Actually, I'm going to leave with my friends," she admitted with a sweet smile, glossy sweat sparkling down her neck. "You're a great dancer, though."

You've got to be fucking kidding me. At this point Davrin must have put a curse on them, because never had Zi came to the club and left alone. What the fuck is going on? They felt around in their shirt jacket and found their keys. Maybe it's a good night for a long drive home, then.

The crowd started moving back upstairs, murmuring anger and disappointment as they filed out. Zi followed, watching their feet in case someone dropped a bill or two. They ended up snagging three bucks. Ok, their luck hadn't totally run out.

Zi was one of the last stragglers to make it out of the cramped basement stairs. The club door was open to let in a cold wet draft, but also the sounds of walkie talkies…shit. The red and blue lights bounced around in the stairwell like memories of the dance hall. Guess they understood why the party stopped now.

All along the avenue were three or four cop cars, with officers stationed at the sidewalk, ushering partygoers out of the way before heading back inside. Eventually, they stretched caution tape over the club entrance. Zi glanced for Elek, hoping to catch him and ask what happened, but couldn't find their old friend among the lingering crowd across the street.

With one of the dollars they found, Zi bummed a cigarette, twiddling it between their fingers until they got into their car, one of the few consistent loves in their life. Wicked Grace, or Grace, for short. She was a 1969 Nissan Skyline, a car they had worked three odd jobs to get. Part time waiter, selling, and making prints at Varric's shop. Only one of those gigs turned out long term, until it wasn't. They popped open the glove compartment, rummaging around for their lighter. Dice, an old pair of aviators, a few parking tickets, condoms…no lighter.

"Fuck," cigarette hanging from their lip, they grumbled.

Zi turned over the ignition and powered the radio. Time to go home. Alone, they were reminded. It was the last thing they wanted. Or needed. In the face of Davrin kicking them to the curb, Varric's death, and in that no job. No cash. Nothing but Grace, a shitty apartment, it was all becoming too much. The precarious stack of cards they had worked so hard to build seemed to be collapsing. How could they call up Myrna and ask for the academy's help again? No, no. They'll find another way. There was no need to go nuclear.

Without warning, the passenger side door whipped open and a figure in black sat next to them. Not some drunk asshole…

Zi whipped their head and spat, "Hey, this isn't a fucking cab—"

Their cheek was met with metal so cold it nearly burned. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Not again.

The shadow put pressure on the pistol's barrel against their face, "Drive. Fast."

"Hey, I don't want to get involved in whatever the fuck this is," Zi complained, their face pushing back on the gun.

"Battery tunnel. Now." he said. "Or I kill you and I drop you into the East River."

Zi hit the gas and pulled off. At this point they were convinced their life had become some cruel, tragic comedy. Down 7th Avenue as fast as they possibly could. Of course, it was 3AM, there was hardly any traffic so they were passing 42nd in less than a minute.

"Will you get that thing offa me—"

The shadow pressed it deeper, it was painful.

"Faster," he turned around, looking through the back window. Out of the corner of their vision Zi caught a flash of intense, dark eyes.

They gunned it, pedal almost to the floor, flying at speeds they only attempt on the expressway. Narrowly dodging other cars as they barreled downtown.

Grace swerved, nearly hitting a taxi on their left side. Zi, with many, many days spent putting her to the test was course correcting with little effort, but this Mexican standoff was making them more agitated by the second. You know how hard it is to make right turn with the business end of a gun jammed into your face?

Zi swallowed nervously, "If you're running from someone, you might as well tell me where the fuck we're going. I don't snitch."

"This is nice," the man remarked nonchalantly, admiring the interior and ignoring what they said entirely. "A powerful rally car. Fast."

At least he had taste in…wait, that voice. More specifically that accent. Once that panic subsided enough for them to think clearly, they realized. The Spaniard.

"You're…you're from the club." Zi stammered, fully recognizing the handsome man they had danced with earlier in the night. His face was cast in mostly shadow, but those eyes were unmistakable.

His stare changed, but only slightly. A sign of recognition. They had to win over his good graces. He was going to be a hard one to work, but Zi had cracked harder nuts. This night had turned into some twisted fucking nightmare.

The Spaniard paused, glancing down at the cigarette somehow still precariously dangling from their lips and reached into his jacket pocket. Zi flinched until they peeped the silver lighter gleaming in his fingers. Pistol still pressed firmly against them, he leaned in, flicking it open and alight just under the end. Close enough to get it to burn. They could still smell his cologne, just like from earlier, but now there was the distinct smell of…iron. Blood. His hands were covered in it. A few precious seconds with a semblance of calm passed and he let Zi take a long, exhausted drag.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

[midnight-soulless-system]

Oh, wonderful. Nothing like using a a medically innacurate slur, johnny. Fun fact, we're called intersex, not hermaphrodites, and we aren't birth defects considering the fact the sex isn't binary, just bimodal.

Please provide me with a medical source that says that transgender/ transsexual people don't exist that don't exist that is a reliable medical resource.

And I don't think you realize this but followers have nothing to do with your status in tumblr.

Also, when a trans woman stops taking hormones the "boy" doesn't come back. Her body doesn't automatically take away her grown tits, nor does it stop her from being transgender.

Tell me Johnny, do you enjoy arguing and not listening to facts? Because I have provided you with multiple reliable medical sources that have all provd my cand marshmallow's claims. Seems like you're the one listening to your feelings.

Unfortunately, I already know I can't win this argument. You can't have a meaningful argument, debate, or discussion with someone who refuses to see and listen to facts and just likes to go around in circles and attack someone's personality, and not their argument.

I do wish you the best Johnny, and I hope that one day you can realize that no matter your anger towards transgenders, we will always exist. We always have existed, and our existence is backed by science. I hope that one day you can realize when you're wrong, like in this situation, and I hope that you can find it within yourself to log off and get a good night's sleep and stop making a fool of yourself on the internet. Remember Johnny, your digital footprint is forever. Your emotions are not.

Facts matter. #VoteBlue

[drdemonprince]

Your recent sex lib article is great, and it's something I think I've had to do in myself, because of myself. As someone who's only recently been able to experience sexual encounters, your article made me question whether the act of touching foreheads could be considered a sexual act, and if so, where would that line be, if there even is a line? Also do you have a good guide for people wanting to get into that mindset/sphere? Thanks!

My dear homie, may I introduce to you (if you haven't met her yet) a lovely little lady called Sex Neutrality

Sex neutrality is the idea that sex is neither especially bad, nor especially good, and in fact is not a distinct and sacrosanct part of life that needs to be firmly separated from all other modes of existence. There's no need to draw firm walls between what is sexual and what is not, because sex isn't any more powerful, damaging, forbidden, or special a part of life than anything else like shitting, cooking, cuddling, conversing, making art, fighting, or anything else.

As I've written in previous articles about asexuality, any activity imbued with the right intentions and a spirit of desire can be sex. Writing doofenshmirtz x perry roleplays with a buddy can be sex, if that's how both of you see it; getting a foot massage can be sex, or it can just be a foot massage. Wearing a thong, getting tied up, kissing, talking in sultry voices in the darkness together -- it can be sex if you want it to be. Or it can just be a fun thing to do with a cool buddy.

I personally see a lot of erotic hypnotic potential in the good old forehead touch. Touching two foreheads together calls forth the sexual ritual in the Coneheads movie, or even the docking of brain-braid thingies from Avatar. And a single finger to the forehead can send my mind spiralling off and my eyes rolling up into my head in a cloud of submission and self-erasure, if the moment and the person to right. To me, things can hardly get more sexual than that. But to someone else? Well, it might just be a little rub on a vein. Doesn't matter. Sex isn't some special thing. Might as well argue over whether a pop-tart is a sandwich. There's nothing sacred about sandwiches, it's just a cool part of life.

[themanedbish]

Did you have fun playing the side-hero? Thinking that no matter what would happen, you would stay by her side? Isn’t it funny how despite you saying all of that, you got, what? One word in? Just a ‘goodbye?’

You’re pathetic. Utterly pathetic for thinking that you could at least try and be a good parent.

???O??

Nora sits silently in front of Artemis' grave, the white lilies recently watered by her, and she contemplates what the voice told her. After some deliberation, she finds that she agrees with them. She is pathetic. She had been telling herself that there was nothing she could do, that she should be content now that Artemis is at peace, but was that really true? She failed to protect her daughter, her family, and herself. Now, all that's left is her savior complex, and the broken people she had foolishly become attached to. She loves them all so much, and she wanted so badly to protect them, but she didn't have the power to do so.

Yet.

A voice whispers in the back of her mind, and she thought back to a conversation she had with Rose, or perhaps someone else. She didn't quite remember who, but the idea had been lingering in the back of her mind. Puppets. If she had their souls, if she could see through them, maybe she could protect them better from outside threats. With a plan in mind, Nora rubs the top of the headstone, almost like she was ruffling someone's hair, whispering.

"You can rest easy now, kiddo.. I won't let anyone else suffer the same fate as you. I promise..."

She then leaves the gravesite, teleporting into Rose's void. She has a lot to talk about with her..

@rosedawolf @p1x13p1x13p1x13

[galacticbratwrites]

Kiss Prompt #23

“23 you taste raw anomaly meat”

A kiss that tastes of the food/dessert they are eating.

Fandom: Tokyo Debunker

Pairing: Taiga Hoshibami/Fem!MC

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 1,506

Description: If I’m cementing my place as a Taiga writer, I may as well show off why I’m his wife. Requested by a dear friend of mine who has been a fellow Taiga wife for about as long as I have. This scene follows the campus interaction where you find him eating meat off the sidewalk like a homeless gay. Blood, violence, a chase and takedown. He’s a predator, what more do you need?

🔞 MINORS DNI 🔞

She needed no reminder that this particular Captain wasn’t human. Still, that didn’t stop the chill that raced down her spine when that particular rasp tore from his throat.

The one of pure hunger. He didn’t seem sated by the anomaly corpse in his hand.

Well.

Corpse would definitely be the word for it, soon. For now, it wriggled, something raw and pink still pulsating, beating in his hand. He hunched on the ground over it, pupils blown wide in that unblinking stare of his. Then, as it pulsated again, its scales shifted.

Scales?

The bow usually affixed to the female Zipper Croc’s head caught the light from between Taiga’s fingertips, and the girl’s stomach lurched.

Whatever void it was that consumed his mind when he was like this, it didn’t recognize her. She knew that much.

Upon spotting him, her first instinct was to freeze. If she didn’t make a sound, she was of no consequence, and hopefully, in whatever trance he was in, he would stumble past with his prize and ignore her.

She hadn’t been counting on his heightened senses, and that nose of his—he could smell her a mile away.

“…Who the fuck’re you?”

Shit. Even with her scent, he couldn’t tell who she was. This was bad.

Her eyes widened even before the click of the gun this time, as the ragged edge of his breathing dragged across her insides, fogging her lungs with anxiety.

“Scram. Unless you got a death wish.”

He’d forgotten she was already dead, in the eyes of Darkwick Academy. Hadn’t he?

She wanted to believe, maybe not. She stepped closer despite the gun.

“What the fuck are you eating?!”

It took the harshness of her tone, her refusal to back down, for him to look twice at her. Normal people didn’t do that shit, anyway.

“Not enough, that’s what…”

He lowered and re-holstered the gun, head tilting as he got a good look at her. Then, sticking his hand into the jaw of the crocodile corpse, he turned and began to drag it away. Presumably, to enjoy it in peace.

The honor student rushed to step in front of him, cutting him off as her eyes narrowed in confusion.

“Why are you like this?”

“Hungry? Fuck knows.”

“How do we fix it?”

“What?” He blinked, before a grimace twisted the bloody edges of his mouth down. “The fuck are you on about?”

“How do I help you?”

“There ain’t no helping that.”

“So I should give up like you obviously have? This can’t be fun for you, I can hear it in your voice. You sound like the hunger hurts.”

Another rattling rasp escaped his lips as he snarled.

“Y’ain’t got no clue what’s fun for me, kitty cat.”

So he did remember her.

Which made the smack of the heavy crocodile corpse’s scales all the more threatening as he dropped it to the ground, a sickening smile spreading across his lips as he approached.

“I’m a man of taste.”

Something was wrong. He remembered her, but the hunger in his eyes didn’t dissipate. He looked ready to eat her instead of the anomaly he’d just hunted.

So she ran, boots thunking down the pavement of the campus pathways, lit brightly by the lamps lining the sidewalk. 

It was something out of a horror movie. No matter her speed, every glance behind her revealed Taiga, following steadily on his long legs, pace unhurried. Like he could catch up by simply walking.

Turning a corner, she veered off the pathway. She slipped wordlessly through the underbrush of the campus woods, hoping he didn’t hear her slip into the foliage.

The crunching of leaves behind her dissuaded that notion, and she began to panic again.

This time, as she took off running again, it was on uneven ground. She couldn’t tell if she’d put herself at an advantage or disadvantage by making the terrain harder to navigate.

Evidently, from the increasing volume of her pursuer, he wasn’t much disadvantaged, if at all. He crashed through the foliage as he followed, no gentle man of pushing branches aside, avoiding harming plants as the honor student did. If she wasn’t already running for her life, she’d have sworn she saw a small tree uproot behind her in his fury.

“Go away!”

“Give up,” he growled in retort, and this time he pounced. A true predator.

It was clear from his efficient takedown that she’d been toyed with this whole time, allowed to run from him as entertainment. Clearly, some demented game of cat and mouse. Both of her wrists were locked solidly to her chest by one strong hand, the other braced above her head to keep him from falling completely on top of her.

His eyes were still vacant and hungry as he leaned down, dragging his nose roughly along the line of her neck and sniffing deeply.

“Just a little taste,” he murmured, and ice seemed to flood through her veins again.

‘I could die here.’

He froze for a moment, eyes focusing onto hers for the first time since this whole ordeal started, and he seemed to brim with… conflict. Confusion furrowed his brow for a second, and then, slowly, tentatively, he released her hands to trace his finger across her lips.

Blood from the Zipper Croc transferred from the contact, the red triggering him to follow his finger with his tongue, trailing it hotly against her skin before he did the unthinkable.

He kissed her. Maybe unintentionally at first, from the placement of their mouths, but his lips only disconnected from hers for half a second before they returned. Maybe it was because he hadn’t noticed the mouth he was trying to clean up the anomaly’s blood with was only covered in it and further contributing to the spread.

Whatever the case, it didn’t change that he kissed her.

He was kissing her, again and again, as if he was testing the feeling of it, sampling her lips.

Oh, fuck. Was she kissing back?

He’d released her hands, and in her shock she’d remained frozen in place, her hands crushed to his chest as his body pressed flat to hers.

He was kissing her, and as her hands found his shoulders, she realized she didn’t want to push him off.

She gripped his suspenders and finally kissed him back, and the moment her lips moved against his, she nearly winced at the taste.

She’d heard crocodile blood was used as a medicine. This was probably the least conventional administration of it, of all time.

Kissing Taiga wasn’t like kissing a boyfriend. He wasn’t gentle, reverent. Even when the kiss was soft, he wasn’t in any way patient or kind. It was a torturous dance of pressure and skin. It was a silent challenge to keep up. The kisses came fast, the pressure intermittent, wild. He didn’t kiss continuously. Each kiss was separate, in the way you’d take smaller bites of a decadent treat you wanted to savor.

She didn’t know what came over her. Maybe some sort of impulse for revenge or an attempt to match his ferocity, but the next time his lips tried to leave hers, she nipped at him in protest.

A growl left his lips, and he moved on top of her, shifting so his legs pinned hers instead of laying entwined on the ground, hands moving to grip her shoulders and slam her firmly into the dirt of the forest floor.

When he kissed her again, it was different. This time, his lips lingered, a steady pressure as they massaged hers. There was no pulling back from this kiss anymore as his tongue slipped into her mouth, flooding her with the taste of raw anomaly. Her own tongue ran tentatively along his in return, and she felt him shiver with delight.

The blood was thick on his lips. It ran all down his front, covered his hands and nose and cheeks, and it tasted foul and bitter like rust. It was thick, probably to help the Zipper Croc with clotting and healing wounds in the wild—not that any sort of evolutionary trait would match up to the way Taiga had that thing ripped open on the concrete, still alive.

Pinned to the ground. Still wriggling. Still alive. Just as she was right now.

She wondered how long she’d stay that way.

“I thought you were going to kill me,” she breathed against his lips as he finally pulled back.

He was staring through her a bit less when he responded, swallowing thickly.

“Nah. Don’t wanna.”

“Then what do you want?”

He grunted, licking his lips as he studied the girl beneath him.

“Stupid question,” he said before leaning down, his teeth trailing along the side of her neck before sloppily kissing along the same path.

Despite his dismissal of the question, something about his silence seemed contemplative as his lips trailed bloody kisses up her throat, landing at her ear when he finally answered.

“I’m gonna make you scream.”

[dreamwreaver]

Man. It's tragic that no matter what, Charlastor will still be one of the most hated ships in the fandom. I've seen how the Hazbin fandom has basically built their own version of canon, they're having fun and sharing headcanons together but once you dare to go against THEIR ships (Huskerdust, Radioapple, Radiostatic, Staticmoth, Chaggie) you're hated on sight, an outcast of the group. It's like shipping defines who you are as a person when it really doesn't. A lot of them criticize Charlastor as a ship but none of us are afforded the same courtesy towards their ships.

I deeply dislike the main fandom for this.

Unfortunately I will say that this has been a recent trend for a lot of fandoms. The stuff that has been in existence for decades with an established popular ship that even if you didn't like you didn't call people pedos or other buzzwords over is now a moral failing on the person if you don't condemn it.

Look at what happened to beetlebabes; forty years and people somehow thought him being not over Lydia in the sequel meant we were still pervs. Sarah/Jareth, same thing. It's just a modern form of Puritanism, just keep to your friend groups and take advantage of blocklists.

Also follow the really good charlastor artists and fic writers, they got the fire content.