#it’s not that I DON’T care about the art form of it all but it’s. yknow.

[thatnerduknow98]

I know Mary knows I’m not Jake, but I can’t figure out why she knows or why she’s not telling the people who can do something about it.

That said, I don’t think she knows how I became Jake or what happened that resulted in me replacing him.

It’s kind of a long story. I also haven’t learned all the language I need to tell it accurately, so please excuse my inability to explain certain moments.

I am an alien from another planet. I cannot figure out what my planet would be called in your languages. Truthfully, it is physically hard to speak your language for us, so I stay mostly quiet, and practice speaking English to Mary’s cat, Mr. Oranges, when she is at the grocery store.

I was part of a team of my kind observing humanity from a spaceship resting outside Earth’s orbit. Your kind won’t see it with your instruments because we blend it in with the stars. I think the word in your language is camouflage. We also emit no heat.

We got fixated on Mary’s town because it is smaller and its people all had very specific roles. The simplicity of it helped us get a basic understanding of how humanity can function in a society. Paul farmed most of the land and sold the crops to Patty who turned it into grain and sold the grain to Robert and Barbara who turned it into dough and then bread at their bakery, who then sold the bread to the rest of the townspeople to eat, for example. Everyone seemed to have one or two main contributing roles in the community. Except for Mary.

Mary specifically stood out because she had many roles. It seemed like every month she had a new role and oftentimes had multiple roles at once. Mary did everything: watching and teaching the towns smallest children, gardening and selling her produce, tending to the sick, providing cleaning and housekeeping services, making things like clothes and art. She also assisted with other functions of society in menial ways, like bagging items at the grocery store or helping sort out their waste. They refer to their waste as trash or recycling, which my race doesn’t understand because in your words, we recycle everything. If Mary had a primary role, it was taking care of Jake and their home.

We heard Mary tell Jake once about a new term she learned about after speaking with a visitor while cleaning the town’s inn once. I don’t remember the name; but it sounded like a medical term, and we gathered it was assigned to types of humans who had trouble being still and always needed to have something to do.

Jake’s primary role was to build things. He worked with various materials, like wood, concrete, stone and brick (though I still don’t know the difference between them all). He was very skilled, but we gathered the work hurt his body a lot.

My team and I decided we could solve this problem by visiting the town with our medicines and placing them in his favorite drink when he’s not looking to help him consume it. I am the smallest of my team, so we thought I would be the most able to sneak around and complete the task.

I took our big ship’s smaller pod down to Earth, intending to land in a park nearby Mary and Jake’s house. I was halfway there when I realized I took the right handed pod instead of the left handed pod. Our species dominant side is so dominant we craft our equipment to cater to both sides. I picked the wrong side.

This meant I had to turn my seat around and manage all the controls with my left from right inverted. You have to understand, the way my species is designed, we can not simply use our other side. Our other side has no muscle development. It can’t do anything other than hold things and maybe move up and down, if we train it to. I don’t want to scare you, but we would be kind of freaky looking if you actually saw us in our true forms.

Anyways, I crashed into a house Jake was building and the whole thing collapsed on top of him. My team saw the encounter and immediately came down to resolve the situation. We restructured the house and healed Jake’s body, but he wouldn’t wake up, and we couldn’t understand why.

My team was mad, to say the least. We aren’t supposed to get involved with our observations anyway, and we already broke that rule, and my actions had the potential to bring our 8-year study in this area to an end. Then I had an idea.

Our kind can do this thing where we can attach to and inhabit minds of certain species. We weren’t sure if we could do it to humans, but when I suggested it my team captain said the equivalent of “Sure, why not?” with a flippant tone. I believe the word in your language is sarcasm.

Which I took literally. It was successful.

After a couple of hours of trying to pilot Jake’s body by continuing to build parts of this house (of which I absolutely mixed the construction materials up) the sun began to set and it was time to return to Mary. My team promptly returned to our spaceship.

When I opened the door, I set Jake’s keys on the table nearby like Jake always did. I took Jake’s muddy boots off and left them on the rug, like he always did. I put my jacket on the coat hangar and took the pack of smokes (I think the actual word is cigarettes?) out of his pocket and set them next to his keys, the way he always did. Then I went straight to the shower, like he always did.

This process was really neat. I got to observe humanity by being one of its kind. The only thing that threw me was that normally when I pilot another body, I can understand that body’s thoughts and emotions. Jake’s body had none. I did not understand why.

When I got out of the shower I caught a sensation I had never experienced before. I realized this was the purpose of a nose or a tongue, maybe both. My kind does not experience this phenomenon.

I followed the sensation into the kitchen where Mary was cooking something. We knew the humans cooked lots of different kinds of foods, and each food had different nutritional properties that needed to be consumed to be in good health, but we couldn’t figure out why they would make the same foods in different ways.

Mary stood aloof with her spatula, stirring around three different foods in the pot. Two of them she grew in her garden, and one she bought from the butcher. One was a round, brown food she diced up and the other was a long green food she cut into smaller pieces. She sliced the food from the butcher into smaller round pieces as well.

“If you’re getting a beer, will you grab me the butter from the fridge too?” Mary asked me.

Jake always grabbed a canned drink out of the metal box that kept them cold after getting out of the shower. I assumed the box was the fridge, and the drink was the beer, but I was unfamiliar with the butter. I hadn’t practiced speaking yet, so I nodded and opened the fridge. The door was heavier than I thought it would be. The cans were in a drawer on the bottom. I grabbed one for myself. There was so much food in the fridge it was hard to logic which one could be the butter.

Mary got tired of waiting.

“Are we out?” she said as she came over. “No, it’s just behind the milk.”

She grabbed a brown tub with an image of a field on it from behind a container of white liquid. The latter must be the milk, I thought.

Normally, Jake would open his beer and go sit in a big chair in front of the tv. We assumed this was to entertain himself and rest his hurting body.

But I was curious about the sensation, the names of the food Mary was cooking, and the purpose of butter. So I sat down at the kitchen table and watched.

Mary was taken aback by my presence but said nothing. I wondered if my decision was drastic enough to blow my cover.

She plated the food and brought it to me. I nodded thanks, reminding myself to practice speaking so I could actually thank her next time she cooked for me.

Mary took her plate of food into the room where she keeps her artistic materials. This was not uncommon, as I’d observed her many times making pictures of the food she cooked with various materials, like paint and pastels, though again I wasn’t sure what the difference was.

I took the fork and picked up a piece of the brown stuff, which was white on the inside. The heat from the meal melted the butter on top. Jake’s body perceived heat differently than mine, like it could cause him pain, so I waited for it to cool before trying it.

The sensation through Jake’s nose was pleasant, but the sensation in his mouth was even better. I tried the green food next.

It tasted different than the brown/white food. It was sharper almost. I don’t have the English words to describe it. Its texture was harder to chew than the other food, which fell apart much easier.

The food from the butcher was different than both of the produce items. It was also quite a pleasant experience.

I promptly ate all the food on the plate and put the plate in the sink. Mary usually cleans the plates after eating and then puts them in a machine that I think cleans them again? I am not sure what its purpose is.

Jake did not usually help with these daily tasks. Suddenly I understood why Mary was sometimes frustrated with him. But he was in pain, and I don’t think Mary knew that either.

I washed the plate and put it in the machine, which was empty. There was more of the meal still in the pan on the stove, and sometimes Mary would put it in a sealed container in the fridge, but sometimes she came back for more, so I left that part alone.

I decided I wanted to experience Jake’s chair and the tv. That’s what he would usually do next. I noticed the orange creature at the back door that they called Mr. Oranges. Sometimes Jake let that creature inside. I let it inside.

Mr. Oranges usually ignored Jake, but I think it knew I wasn’t him. I was thankful it could not speak English. I had seen Mary gently pat the creature, so I did too, and it let out a sound I’d never heard before, then rubbed its whole body on Jake’s legs. I felt like it was telling me it’d keep my secret.

I sat in the chair and Mr. Oranges jumped on top of me. It sat on Jake’s chest and made that sound again, which I realized this time had an accompanying vibration through its body. I grabbed the remote and turned on the tv.

My team was right. Tv was for entertainment. It told lots of stories, some of which I think were real historical events and others I think were made up. Jake liked to watch the stories about space and science. I tried watching a couple of a show called “Star Wars” and decided that is not at all what the universe is like.

Mary came back out and put her plate in the sink.

“Did you wash your plate?” she asked surprised. I nodded. “You’re letting Mr. Oranges lay on you?” she added with more surprise.

I think that was when she realized I wasn’t her husband, but merely in his body. It wasn’t until later I realized I’d opened the fridge door with my left hand. Jake was not left handed.

Your "friend" has been replaced by a doppelgänger. You aren’t sure where it came from or what it is under the disguise. But you know one thing; you prefer it over the original.

[josiestime]

Firstly, the hypocrisy is insane.

As if Gwynriels aren’t also victims of this. A friend of mine was just messaging me saying she had to take her Gwynriel art work down because Elriels are mass reporting Gwynriel art work.

Was Steph, SJM’s best friend, not doxxed by Elriels?

My friends have received more “kill yourself” annons then I can’t count on two hands within the past few weeks.

And here you are calling us mental cases and telling us we can “burn in hell.”

Your delusions are insane. The fact that you at your grown ass age, are sitting here and saying the most vile shit over book characters just says so much about you.

But who’s surprised?

Elriels are notorious for being racist, ableist, misogynistic, and have been the cause of many people’s anxiety and stress.

And of course you don’t care about real people and their mental health. You voted red.

Eres horrible y sin educacìon, así que no te ofendas sialguien te lo dice a la cara.

We could sit here and go back and forth all day, but it would not change the fact that Elriels are vile and lack any form of self respect and respect for others.

And don’t ever mock mental health issues in front of me again.

Me and a few of my friends have dealt with suicidal thoughts and tendencies for so long and I can assure you they stem from deeper issues then who a fictional character will end up with. To throw it around carelessly in an argument and act all innocent is beyond disgusting.

[tothepointofinsanity]

Forgive me if you've already been asked this, but I'd love to know how you interpret Sayaka's ability to act separately from and control Oktavia in Rebellion. It's interesting that she's willing to summon the very thing that represents all her failings, doubts, and inability to live up to her morals at the time. Yet allowing Oktavia to appear without her when she was guiding Homura toward the truth, even able to sympathize with a witch which would've been unthinkable for her during the original show.

But she still seems to have a clear preference for appearing as her magical girl self. And the use of Elsa Maria's barrier and black and white art style for when she summons Oktavia by, as her dramatic self would, stabbing her own heart out feels like it's implying that she still others Oktavia from herself akin to ugly and complex feelings she doesn't want to fully own.

Pardon the rambling, I'm sure I got parts about her wrong here and there but she's such a fascinating character and my favorite of the cast. Symposium Magarum is my favorite song from the series. And it's so refreshing to see someone handle her with so much care and attentive eyes, she tends to get overlooked and misunderstood.

Ah, interesting question. I don’t believe I have been asked this before, and even if I was, no worries. Surprisingly, I was thinking about a section from the Puella Magi wiki before this letter came in, so this is an opportunity for me to aimlessly ramble my thoughts on Oktavia and Sayaka’s relationship, an exploration which is also present in my own mindless scribbles anyways.

From the way I view it, although witches are described to be the rebirth of magical girls in their form of despair, I always thought that the personal role of a witch was to try and salvage the wish made by their magical girl counterparts. To note, the game has described Oktavia (the Doppel) to be playing the song for her “master”, which confirmed my thoughts that even though the magical girl inside of the mermaid is unresponsive, Oktavia does not allow her orchestra to be disrupted because the songs are meant only for Her (Sayaka) and herself (Oktavia), and others listening to the music too long would otherwise be driven mad. Really staying true to her role as a knight and protecting someone. Oktavia is also said to be “dreaming about love”, which is very much aligned with Sayaka’s character and goals, but also mocked because she can only dream of having it.

Witches are a reflection of magical girls, and given Sayaka’s motif (water), this is very much played up with her character, as well as her appearance in Rebellion. It is said that Oktavia can appear anywhere as long as there is water, and Sayaka just has water constantly following her magic to begin with. Sayaka was not always Oktavia, but Oktavia was once Sayaka, their existence tied like cause and effect. Since Sayaka is not in despair, she does not reflect the appearance of a witch. Being able to command Oktavia to some extent simply means she has overcome her complex feelings about her lover (not allowing herself to succumb to despair), and stabbing herself in that sequence was literal “my heart goes out to you, Homura” because she understands how miserable it is to be so unforgiving and cruel towards Yourself.

One other reason why Sayaka can act so independently from her witch as well is because she always had an extreme view of distinguishing things, especially between Good and Bad things, which strengthens the line between them, but Sayaka has started to learn that she has to treat herself well, however unpleasant an extension it might be. Oktavia is still the embodiment of Sayaka’s tragic past, but Sayaka now understands she cannot simply cut ties with a being who is inseparable from her. She learned to accept things and that in turn was an acceptance of her own witch.

I also think her addition to the Law of Cycles has familiarised her with other witches in general, and being an “angel”, she is then supported by other witches because she wields a part of this Law. Due to this, in Rebellion, her abilities are very different and whimsical thanks to her having to hold onto some of Madoka’s memories as a divine being up until Homura intervened.

All in all, that’s just a long and winded way to say that Sayaka has a very strong relationship to Oktavia due to these factors, and granted her the ability hold such command over her own witch and even influence other witches she once killed. My response isn’t very clear, but I hope it gives some vague understand to how I interpret them. And thank you for the ask and high praise 🙇‍♂️🙇‍♂️!! Sayaka is very pleasant to me, so I’m happy that others are able to like her too.

[picklesthenonbeanary]

New headcannon just got airdropped into my thoughts. The song Hurts like hell but with click clack and it takes place during a depression episode at some point after thespius ascended but he hasn’t yet and is still dealing with the mental burden that is his friend/partner ascending and how his time is finite and all that sort of mental stuff that comes with your best friend/partner (and crush) now being immortal and them not knowing the certainties of it and if they’re relationship will ever be that same again for better or for worse.

This would honestly be such a cool animation but like I can’t animate for the life of me or have the time too with my break ending soon sadly

[sexyleon]

i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai i hate ai

[thatgirlonstage]

Doing anything as a job will make it unglamorous because nothing can completely retain its wonder up close but this makes it very funny in a surreal sort of way when people with no practical experience in what you do get moon-eyed about it

[acitybythelightunited]

Mmmmmk… then do something about it instead of complaining about it on the internet accomplishing nothing but making clickbait companies rich over it trending. I’m getting really tired of this Hamas/Palestine spam from pornbots. Stop getting rich off people’s suffering and donate every fucking penny of that to aid the refugees over there you scumbag fucks. The only thing worse than wars are the soulless money bags that brand #blueandyellow everywhere for a year then leave the Ukraine in the dust when they find a new cash cow to exploit. A place that has been in 7 wars since the Holocaust that will never cease to stop fighting over religious territory and revenue over a super natural being they can’t even prove exists that murders and rapes children with their cultish buildings all over the planet. How about you stop fighting over a God that doesn’t even exist. We’re all just scientific matter no one understands the origin of. But God sure as Hell wouldn’t let priests molest and bury 6,000 children alive along Canada’s border if he even existed so shut the fuck up and just start being decent human beings. Start with that. And fuck billionaires. You greedy motherfuckers suck up all the world’s economic systems and then wonder where all your consumers went when they die of financial constraint YOU created for the whole globe with your greed. We don’t need a pissing contest to a trillion dollars, we need affordable living and vacations with the money you’re ciphoning up by inflating cost of living higher than minimum wage increase so that it changes nothing but poor people’s financial leashes and not your continual profits. Ban increasing cost of living and that will solve like 80% of the world’s problems. The point of raising wages to create comfortable living for ordinary citizens. We don’t care if you can’t afford 15 exotic cars instead of 12 while the working class ends up on the street over one missed paycheck. Fuck off. 🖕🏽

"Murdering 14,000 children is not 'Self-Defense'"

Poster spotted in Boston, Massachusetts

[xandle]

genuinely i wish i wasnt so picky with writing though because im also going through what i, sadly, call “lower tier fics” where either the more technical aspects of writing (grammar, syntax, give or take away a thesaurus, etc) stress me out

on one hand i hate that i even have that mindset bc i acknowledge perhaps english is this persons second language or smth. i’m also a teacher. like. fundamentally, i should not be judging things this way outside of the classroom. on the other hand.

most of the archives now a days could benefit from a quick writing workshop. or reading a couple actual physical books. or just giving the thing a few more passes.

editing/grammar/etc isn’t going to remove your writing voice, but it will help instill clarity and when you do break rules about punctuation you’ll be breaking them better

i am not at all proud of this trait of mine lol

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

"guys I do not condone any of this in real life" "this is fiction" "consent is key. this is only fiction" "murder is bad irl" — I wish fanfic authors didn't feel like they had to clarify this in author's notes or else they might be accused of being abusers or worse (I admit that such disclaimers are also something I personally use for my own stuff because I feel like I had to make it clear). like... people used to not care if an author wrote dead dove fics because people used to understand that ao3 fics are not a reflection of someone's in real life views or morality in any way. people used to understand that fanfics mean what they mean; fan fiction. none of it is real. maybe it's purity culture that normalizes witch hunt and censorship in the past couple years, and therefore authors feel like they have to clarify that just because they write about violence or noncon stuff doesn't mean they're murderers or sex offenders in real life. and I think it sucks that these things (purity and cancel culture?) have made authors feel like they have to apologize for the art they created instead of being proud of their hard work and all the dedication they put into creating these art. artists should not have to feel like they have to apologize for creating art that isn't all rainbow and sunshine. artists should not have to be made to feel ashamed of their own art if it's not all rainbow and sunshine.

I don’t agree with the “you can write noncon and dark fics as long as you make sure your readers get the message that these things are bad” or “you can write noncon and dark fics if it’s your way of coping with your trauma” take either. because writers do not owe you anything. the message writers want to send to their readers — whatever that message may be, if there’s any message or moral of the story for readers to take from the stories at all — is none of your business. why writers write what they write is none of your business. remember “don’t like don’t read”. no one forces you to read anything you don’t like. dark and noncon fics are a form of creative writing and creative writing is a form of art. you can’t pressure artists into creating art that “fit your moral compass” nor can you apply your own moral compass to artists to determine if they can create dark art or not, if their reasoning behind creating dark art passes your moral compass. like… what artists create and why artists create are none of your business. and you don’t get to shame artists for creating art that you hate / art that disgusts you. what you can do is ignore the art because it clearly was not made for you and that’s okay. what isn’t okay is you harassing artists because you don’t like the things they created.

writers, embrace and be proud of your works. as long as all the trigger warnings are tagged properly, you have nothing to apologize for.

[ferrarifinnick]

BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR | KANG DAE-HO (PLAYER 388)

pairing: dom!dae-ho x reader

genre: smut (18+) summary: a little stunt during family dinner brings out a side of dae-ho you’ve never seen before. warnings: pda, voyerism, teasing, p in v, brat taming, sub/dom, handjob, dirty talk, overstimulation, car sex. 1.2k

dae-ho was never one to turn down dinner with your parents. he had perfected the art of impressing your dad and flattering your mother, and tonight was no different. dae-ho shook your father’s hand, called him sir, and spent the whole evening attentively listening to his every word over dinner made by your mother. he nodded along, asked informed questions, and kept a perfectly straight face while you jerked him off under the dinner table.

“what were you saying about the — unngh,” he suddenly grunted as you squeezed his shaft. he quickly feigned a string of coughs, reaching for a glass of water while gesturing to his neck with a flustered wave of his hand.

your mother gasped. “oh, dear! let’s get you some more water,” she said, standing up from her seat to reach for the jug of water in the middle of the table.

“no!” dae-ho blurted out, pulling a napkin over his lap in an attempt to conceal your hand in his suit trousers. he quickly adjusted his alarm into a charming smile that convinced your mother to sink back into her seat. “thank you,” he said. “but it’s alright now. must’ve swallowed some of this delicious beef the wrong way!” he joked, chuckling heartily as your mother fawned.

“oh!” she said, flattered. “well, it’s just something i put together quickly…”

your father scoffed. “don’t listen to her, dae-ho. she’s been braising this beef all day, haven’t you honey?”

dae-ho seized another chunk of it in his chopsticks while your mother blushed. “well, that is clear in its flavour,” he said sweetly, then glanced to your father to add, “let’s hope i make it to the end of the meal, shall we?” he joked, and your father’s hearty laugh drown out the sharp breaths you pulled form dae-ho as you massaged his cock in your fist.

he shot you a warning glare while your parents were distracted in conversation.

at the end of the evening, after finishing your meal and enjoying some chatter over glasses of wine, dae-ho bid farewell to your parents by the door.

“thank you for a wonderful evening,” he said as your mother pulled him into a hug.

she kissed his cheek. “we always welcome your company, dae-ho,” she said, pinching his cheek affectionately. “such a pleasure to cook for.”

your father agreed, clasping dae-ho’s hand in a firm shake. “do come again soon.”

dae-ho’s eyes widened, and you knew by the redness flooding his cheeks that he is thinking about the sticky cum in his boxers. the situation you caused. he shot you a quick glance as the little giggle slipped from your lips, and while the dark flash of warning in his eyes went unnoticed by your parents, it’s didn’t to you.

he opened his arms. while you often savoured the security that came with the size of his muscles, it’s rare you’re intimidated by them. by the power they had over you. inching closer and pressing yourself against his chest, you’re squeezed flush against him as his arms wrapped around you.

he said your name. it dripped with tension, but it’s still intense with the affection you were so accustomed to. “it’s always lovely seeing you,” he said and leaned down to bury his face in your hair. his breath burned your skin, and you were suddenly aware of just hot quickly his heart was beating. how tense his muscles felt under yours.

you had really done it tonight. you had pushed him too far and found the side of dae-ho that rarely surfaced. the side that liked to punish you in the one way that’ll teach you never to misbehave again. frighteningly, and just a little bit thrillingly, you knew you would soon learn your lesson.

“did you enjoy your fun this evening?” he asked innocently enough, but it’s laced with so much meaning that a chill ran down your back.

you nodded cautiously. “i did,” you said, your hands hesitantly resting on his back. it suddenly felt so broad under your touch, and even as you slid them higher, all you discovered was more muscle under his shirt.

his lips brushed against the shell of your ear. you flinched into his hold, and his big arms held you steady, trapped you in his embrace. in his trap. exactly where he wanted you to be.

quiet enough for only you to hear, lips shielded from your parents in your hair, he whispered to you. “meet me in my car.”

with that, he pulled away and the warmth returned to his chipper demeanour as he waved you all farewell one last time. as your dad showed him out the door, he sent you one last look, before walking down the driveway. his car keys jingled purposefully with every step.

your reminder.

the front door closed, and your parents poured one final glass of wine before disappearing into the living room. you waited until they became engrossed in what was playing on the television, before quietly slipping out the front door, closing it with a soft click.

the headlights were already on, the passenger door popped open for you, and dae-ho wasted no time in driving out of your street. he parked up in a lonely alleyway nobody would ever use so late at night, and the second the ignition shut off, he pounced.

you had never had such a good view of the backseats as you did now with your face pressed against them, cheek raw as it brushed across the surface with every blow of dae-ho’s hips.

“is this what you wanted?” he grunted, one hand on the arch of your back, the other pushing your head down. “to get fucked like a little bitch in the back of my car?”

you cried as he delivered a thrust that reached so deep into your pussy you could swear it hit your cervix. he held you still as you struggled underneath him, his amusement coming out in a breathy scoff. you could only imagine the smug grin on his face.

“oh, is it too much, baby?” he cooed. “my dick too big for you, huh?”

the blow of his hips, the small but effective increase in his pace forcing the sob to bubble out of your throat. “yes!” you cried, and you didn’t know if you were answering him or asking for more.

“too bad,” he taunted, forcing his cock in even deeper. he slowly shifted more of his weight onto you, and the strangled groan he pulled from you only encouraged the speed of his thrusts. “you asked for this.”

he drove your body forward with each blow of his hips, and even as your body convulsed under his, he didn’t ease his pace. he fucked into you until you saw stars, and even as you clamped down and released on his cock, he didn’t stop. he rode you through your high and took you all the way to the next one, until your tears rolled down your cheeks and your arousal down your legs.

“what’s the matter, baby?” he asked from behind, drops of his sweat landing on the arch of your back. “isn’t this what you wanted?”

backseat loving with dae-ho…dreamy. please like, comment, reblog. love <33

[quiltedlovers]

mentally and emotionally i am currently sitting on a bench in the group of seven section of the AGO and perhaps I am even standing in front of this painting by J.E.H MacDonald

And all is right in the world

[bunibelles]

Say u don’t value artists without directly saying it

I’m in this writing seminar for children’s authors and like they were on the q&a part. Someone asked how they could save money if they were looking for an illustrator. The person speaking suggested maybe approach a college and ask the professor if anyone is looking for a project especially if they’re at the top of the class. And meanwhile I’m like ?? Just because they’re less experienced doesn’t mean they deserve less. Like I know artists price their work differently but to just automatically price newer artists as cheaper is so frustrating. Fresh out of college doesn’t mean u should price them in ur head lower automatically. It’s just the business field I know but the ethnics make me so frustrated

[doremimosasol]

⋆˙⟡ Just thinking about MATTHEO RIDDLE's love language. He'd be such a lover boy when he finally has you, always reminding you of the love his heart bears.

Doves, cats, bunnies... Mattheo would succeed in enchanting parchment into every shape or form, letting them delicately land on your desk. The paper would gently graze the tips of your fingers as if urging them to absorb the words he wrote.

"Darling, the sun should be jealous of your radiant smile." — "That ribbon in your hair reminds me of the string that binds me to you." — "To love a heart as beautiful as yours has been the biggest gift in my life."

Mattheo would often take walks on the school grounds to drown out his sorrows, preferably alone but not without keeping you in the back of his mind. You’d often receive flowers — “Almost as beautiful as you.” —, stones shaped like a heart, unicorn hair… Every single walk, he’d search for something to gift you.

To him, defense against the dark arts classes were rubbish. — “They don’t teach you to properly defend yourself, so let me, please.” — He’d teach you to use dark magic while also letting you learn its weaknesses. It’d bring you two into the late hours of the night, hidden in the room of requirement. Always making sure to keep lingering touches on your hips, wrist, and shoulders. — “Just so you know the proper form.” bullshit

Having your own dorm room? No, you didn’t, he’d plead with you to stay in his all the time. He’d use excuses like ‘just protecting you’ or ‘keeping your nightmares away’. Silly guy. He just couldn’t handle not holding you through the night.

He’d often give you massages, driving away the tension in your shoulders. His lips would often follow the motion of his hands until no spot would be left unkissed.

Intimate times had two sides. Either he’d be pretty rough — not without telling you how beautiful you look — other times he’d be so soft. But not once he’d forget to take proper care of you after. Showering together sometimes for another round and kissing the skin painted by his love, or just taking a relaxing bath with your back resting against his chest.

He'd spend months to find a way to sneak out of Hogwarts for a weekend trip to London. Taking romantic strolls through the city, ending the day with his coat wrapped around you and a hot chocolate in your hands to keep you warm enough.

His biggest love language would be words of encouragement and soft touches. Often combined.

“How’d my love sleep?” — “Has my pretty girl eaten breakfast today?” — “My smart girlfriend, always working so hard.” — “I’m proud of you.” —

— “I love you.”

[teddypines]

Thunderstorm

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sumary: Cute moment with Batmom!reader and Damian who is afraid of thunderstorm.

Batmom!reader x Damain, Fem!reader (Use of she/her pronounce)

Note: I don't know Batman lore like i know mcu lore. Everything i know is from the cartoon's i watched as a kid and the fanfic's and webtoon i read. So if somthings are out of charachter, i'm sorry. Also the other boy's live at home i don't care if it isn't canon.

Art/picture is from Pintrest, credits go to whoever made it.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Damian always acted like he was an adult, because in his eyes he thought he was, even when Y/N knew the boy was far from being an adult. She always tried to give him small moments that normal kids his age had in an attempt to make up for the things Talia had done in the past. This included letting him come to her if he needed, no matter the time or place.

It was just a normal Friday night in the Wayne household. Y/N was cuddled up to Bruce’s side on the couch. Jason and Dick to her right both bickering about which guy the girl on tv would end up with. Tim was curled up in his blanket on the chair, tiredly typing away on his laptop and Damian was trying to stay close to Bruce’s side but didn’t want to make it obvious that he wanted to cuddle. The rain outside made for a cozy feel for the whole moment, it made Y/N happy. The kids and Bruce are safe at home with her and not out on patrol or fighting crime. 

Y/N sighed as the tv show Jason and Dick were watching was finally over. So she took the remote and quickly turned the channels to look at the weather forecast. “Owh, boy looks like we are going to have a thunderstorm tonight. Good thing I don't have to worry about you all being out.” Y/N said before switching channels again. The fact that it was going to storm didn’t really bother Bruce or the boy’s. Except for Damian, he was stressed internally, but he didn’t want his brothers to know. They would probably laugh if they knew he was scared of a thunderstorm. Y/N looked over at Damian. “Everything okay, Dami?” She asked, the troubled look on Damian’s face made her worry. “Y-yes, I'm fine. Nothing to worry about, just tired.” Damian rambled back at Y/N. 

“I think I might go to bed too,” Tim said after Jason left the living room. He closed his laptop and wiggled out of his blanket. He made his way over to Y/N and Bruce, Y/N already opening her arms for Tim. “Night night, Pumpkin” Y/N said to Tim when he was safely in her arms. “Goodnight, momma. Night, dad. Love you” Tim answered, staying in Y/N’s arms for a little while. “We love you too, Pumpkin” Y/N said in between kisses she placed on Tim’s head. Bruce wrapped his arm around Tim too, but only for a moment. “Now off to bed, Pumpkin, don’t want you to fall asleep here again” Y/N said which made Tim reluctantly pull away. Soon After Dick said his goodnights too and left the living room with Tim. 

“I bet little Dami is just scared of the thunderstorm.” Jason commented as he leaned back against the couch, a small smirk spread across his face. "No! I am not scared!” Damian yepped back at Jason, he pouted a bit after. Bruce held back a small laugh at Damian’s pouty face which earned him a jab in the side form Y/N.

“Don’t tease your brother like that, Jay bird and Dami, it's okay if you're scared of thunderstorms” Y/N said hoping to resolve the small situation. Jason grumbled a bit before getting off the couch. "Fine! I'm off to bed.” He wanted to quickly disappear, but Y/N didn’t let him. “Night night, Jay bird” She said with a smile. Jason groaned and quickly hugged her. “Night mom” He whispered to Y/N.

“You should go to bed soon too, Dami, and if the storm scares you it’s okay to come to us. We’ll protect you from the storm” Y/N said in an attempt to sooth Damian’s worry about the upcoming thunderstorm. She reached over Bruce and gently ran a hand over Damian’s head. “I’ll be fine, no need to worry” Damian answered a bit distant. He didn’t want Y/N (or Bruce) to worry about him. “Just know we’re there when you do need us” Bruce said to Damian in a stern but reassuring way. Damain just nodded his head and pulled off the couch. “I’ll be fine, night”

It did upset Y/N just a bit that Damian didn’t get his usual good night hug, but she knew he would be by her side the moment the thunder storm started. Bruce pulled Y/N on top of him and kissed her cheek. “He’ll be back, love” 

<----------------------------------------------------------------------->

The thunderstorm started around 1:30 AM, just when Y/N found a comfy position next to Bruce. The thunder wasn’t as bad in the beginning, but got worse after 20 minutes. After one particular loud thunder Y/N awoke to the weight shifting on the bed. She opened her eyes and was met with a very scared Damian. “Umi? C-can i stay with you and… and dad?” Damian stuttered through his tears. "Always, baby” Y/N answered. She pulled away from Bruce’s side and turned over so Damian could cuddle against her. “I see you brought mister Moo” Y/N pointed at the plush cow in Damian’s arms. “Maybe…” He whispered, busying himself with finding the best way to lay next to Y/N. Wanting to be as close to her as he could. He slowly closed his eyes but flinched when another thunder strike was heard. 

“Shhh, it’s okay Dami, you're safe in bed with us. No need to be scared, Thor is just a bit extra mad at Loki tonight.” Y/N whispered to Damian. a reassuring hand was placed on Damian’s back. Damian shifted his head to look up at Y/N. “What?” Y/N laughed a bit. “You heard me. Thor is mad at Loki, that’s why the thunder is so loud tonight. Loki probably stabbed him again or tricked him by being a cute snake.” Y/N explained as Damian listened. He knew that what Y/N said was just based on stories and myths, but he liked it. Made the thunderstorm less scary. “Really? Why would Loki do that?” He asked. “Well, Loki really likes attention and sometimes he thinks he doesn’t get enough of it, so he asks for attention. But he does it in the only way he knows how, by being a little shit head and stabbing Thor or tricking the others.” Y/N explained. Bruce groaned a bit as he heard Y/N talk. He turned over and saw Damian hiding against her. 

“Or Thor just stubbed his toe.” Bruce added while propping his arm underneath his head. “Yes, that is possible too” Y/N answered with a small nod of her head. Damian laughed a bit and yawned. “I like that one better, big oof stubbing his toe.”

“Yeah, see now the thunder isn’t so bad is it?” Y/N asked as she yawned as well. Damian only nodded his head in answer. The storm outside was still going on, but Thor just stubbed his toe so that made the thunder more understandable. It was a story, but the story helped Damian feel less scared. 

“Alright, love you” Y/N promised before drifting off to sleep. Bruce smiled at the two. He placed gentle kisses on both their heads before falling asleep as well.

Y/N smiled as she watched Damian fall asleep against her. She turned her head to look at Bruce. “Out like a light,” She said. Bruce smiled and tried to lay back down next to Y/N. “Yeah, but he’s taking all of the comfy spots on the bed” Y/N rolled her eyes and held out her hand for Bruce to hold. “Tomorrow night you can sleep against me again.” Y/N reassured Bruce while he held onto her hand. “Fine, but I expect extra cuddles then!”

[artdcnaldson]

tashi in the mix to this "teach me" verse hold on because..... tashi teaching you how to move your hips on a mans cock to make him crazy, on art because patrick would try to slip his tip in 😒,,,, hands on your hips, guiding you, you can feel her nipples on your back as she helps you rock back and forth over his dick.... art slipping and sliding through your slick folds, moaning when tashi turns your head to lick into your mou- i have another idea for patrick ill be back

hiiiii 🫶🩷

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: SMUT (f!recieving oral, grinding, orgasm denial)

A/N: Your mind amazes me so bad it’s crazy. Patrick’s part is gonna be so 🤭🫶 I’m excited. Anyways. Need Artashi so bad it’s clinical

When you tell Tashi, her face contorts in a mix of annoyance and confusion. At you, for you, at them— it was hard to tell.

“Jesus, you’ve just been jerking and sucking them off for weeks now?” She asks, her lips turned into a frown

“I didn’t think you’d be upset about it,” you said shyly, feeling an uncomfortable knot form in your stomach. “It’s nothing serious between us, just—“

She stops you, laughing wryly. “No, I don’t give a fuck if they’re your boyfriends or not. I just can’t fucking believe that you’ve been getting them off and they haven’t even offered to make you cum.”

You feel heat in your cheeks. “Oh, I don’t… I don’t ever ask. It’s too embarrassing.”

Tashi rolls her eyes. “Jesus, if you can suck their dicks, they can make you cum. It’s not hard.” And she’s right. It’s not like you haven’t wondered what it would feel like for their hands to fit between your thighs, how different it might feel for their fingers to be buried inside of you— long and thick, different than yours. Or their mouths— even though thinking about it makes your stomach twist with embarrassment. “Whatever. I’ll fix it for you.”

Tashi will fix it. And that’s that.

It’s not even a day later that Tashi texts you, inviting you over to her dorm. “They’re fucking chauvinists,” she explains, knees brushing yours as you face each other on her bed. “They’re treating you like a fucking fleshlight because you’re naive. But you’re not going to be naive anymore. You’re going to get exactly what you want. What you need.”

“But I like it,” you admit nervously, afraid to let her down. “Being wanted like that.”

She smiles, brushes her hand along your cheek. “We’re not quitting. We’re leveling the playing field. They’ve given you some lessons, it’s my turn.”

Art Donaldson is a weak link— needy, sweet, eager. He’d follow Patrick or Tashi off a fucking cliff if they wanted him to. Art’s so easy that it’s no surprise when he’s at Tashi’s door fifteen minutes after she texts him.

Between you and Tashi, it’s easy to get him where you want him— desperate, wanting. All it takes are a few kisses and rubbing his dick through his jeans.

He watches, almost dazed as you kiss Tashi deeply, putting all those lessons from him and Patrick to work. And she’s like a mix of the two in a way— like she’d taken the care and hunger Art kissed with and tangled it up in all of Patrick’s intensity and need.

“That’s nice. At least they’re good for something,” Tashi murmurs against your lips. You nod, mouth open, leaning back in to kiss her again. She smiles, leans back. “C’mere.”

Tashi sits against the headboard, pulls you so your back is against her chest. Art slots in between your thighs with no instruction. He tugs down your shorts and panties at once, and your face burns as your pussy is exposed to both of them.

“Look how pretty she is, Art,” Tashi says. She’s holding your thighs apart, keeping you spread open for them. Her lips brush against your jaw and you sigh contentedly. “Give her a kiss.”

Art obeys easily, and his mouth meets your cunt like he’s making out with it. Slow laps of his tongue through your slit, tasting how wet you’d gotten from kissing them. He moans softly, nuzzles closer.

Your eyes flutter, rolling back as your body melts into the new sensation— lips and tongue, the warmth and wetness and pressure. It’s better than your own fingers, or the cheap vibrator you’d gotten at the mall.

You squeeze Tashi’s hand when his lips seal around your clit, nails digging into her palm, forming tiny crescents. “See?” Tashi says. “He’ll do whatever you want, you just have to make him.”

Art’s tongue dips inside of your entrance, making you moan. Tashi relishes in it— in seeing you experience all of it for the first time. It wasn’t fair, she decided, that she’d been left out from the beginning.

“Use your fingers,” Tashi instructs. “I shouldn’t have to tell you this, Art, you should just do it right the first time.”

He moans pathetically against your cunt as she tangles her fingers in his blond curls. You’re so wet that your body accepts his finger easily, like it belongs. He thrusts it slowly, curled just enough to brush against your sweet spot.

He’s grinding against the bed— desperate, needy. His brow is furrowed in concentration, desperate to make you cum so he can be rewarded and praised. He slips a second finger alongside the first, alternates between suckling on your clit and teasing it with soft licks.

You’re so easy to get worked up, especially when you’re sandwiched between Tashi and Art. Neither of them are surprised when you cum, hard and fast, clenching around Art’s fingers, grinding against his face.

Embarrassment and arousal mingle warm in your belly at the sight of Art’s face— all slick and wet. He leans in, kisses Tashi, then kisses you. He undresses while you’re coming down from it, wanting the two of you to lave him with attention, to take care of the aching need between his legs.

That’s not what he’s there for.

Tashi pushes him down onto his back, pins him there with nothing more than a look. He lays there trying to be patient, with his cock hard and resting against his stomach. You see it twitch as she peels off your shirt and your bra, throws her own shirt across the room.

Art watches in eager anticipation as Tashi guides you to straddle him, your wet cunt hovering right over where he wants it. His head falls back against Tashi’s pillows.

“Patrick’s going to fucking kill me,” Art groans.

“Why? She’s not fucking you,” Tashi said firmly. “You’re just going to lay there and be a prop. Be a good boy and lay still.”

His chest heaves as Tashi settles behind you, pressing her body against yours. “Alright, just move with my hands, okay? I’ll show you what boys like.”

You off wordlessly as she starts guiding your hips in slow, grinding motions. Art whines beneath you, as each slow pass of your hips makes your pussy slide along the line of his cock. His head falls back, and he tries and fails to buck up against you with his hips pinned under your and Tashi’s weight.

She guides your hips in slow circles and you whine at the same time as Art. “See?” She asks. You nod, head falling back against her shoulder. “All you need to turn his brain into mush is right here.”

Soon, the pressure of her hands on you is second to instinct— she lets her hands move up your body to squeeze and cup your tits. You turn, letting her lick into your mouth, relishing in the drag of her tongue against yours.

“Can you cum like this?” She breathes into your mouth. “Just using him like a plaything?”

You shake your head. “I don’t know,” you admit.

She just smiles against your lips, leans in for another hungry kiss. “Try.”

She guides your hand to the middle of his chest, giving you more purchase. The new angle makes you moan, eyes squeezing shut as your sensitive clit rubs against him.

“Good, keep going like that.” You almost whine at the loss of her warm behind you as she moves to sit against the wall. The perfect view of you and Art, both submitting to her whims. The sight of her with a hand between her thighs, watching you with a hungry, unabashed desire makes heat pool in your belly. Her fingers circle her clit with the skill of someone who knows exactly how to get what she needs in all things. “Look at him, not me.”

Art’s a fucking mess— red down to his chest, panting and whining beneath you. Without Tashi pinning his legs, he’s able to grind up against you, to seek that friction. Moans tumble past his full lips, and god, he looks so pretty when he’s pinned beneath you for once.

When you cum, it’s with panting moans and trembling thighs. Tashi finishes at the sight, of you— grinding down against the blond, who’s just lying there and taking it. Tashi rubs your back as you come down, smiling like she’d just coached you to victory.

You move off of Art and he’s still hard, still wanting. Pouting at the loss of the warm, slick pressure on his lap.

“Okay, you can go,” Tashi tells Art, with a soft pat against his cheek. He groans, chest still heaving, pouting. Tashi sighs. “You did your job, Art. Thank you.”

You watch him redress, obviously hard in his athletic shorts. He looks back, like he’s checking if Tashi’s going to change her mind (she doesn’t).

When he’s gone, she kisses you again, easing you onto your back, straddling your lap as she grinds her wet pussy against your thigh. “You’re such a good little student,” she praises against your lips. “No wonder they like you so much.”

tashi/patrick vignette next and they will match each others freak trust 🫶

[buckiverse]

hiiii, im callista, the one who actually made the CAWK ANALYSIS DIAGRAM, and im begging you to talk about xav and raf too so i can add them to our very important research <3

☆ warnings: mdni, a cock analysis for rafayel (including lemurian form) and xavier

☆ a/n: when i saw your post on twitter I was so shocked >< (in a let me pick up a mf pen and paper type of way) but, when I started cooking this one I did in fact realize I am a monster fucker when it involves rafayel (and sylus too who am I kidding fr), so I am looking forward to the updated research hehehe

sylus, caleb, and zayne ver.

R6.76GGPV - #dc9ca2

Rafayel’s physique is striking. He’s tall, with a lean, wiry frame that speaks to his grace and agility. Don’t be fooled by his size—this man is one with the water. His strength is deceptive, fluid, and undeniable. And, let’s be real: he’s lean, he’s sculpted, and damn, he looks incredible. His stamina is off the charts—of course, he’s a God of the sea. Hello?

Now, let’s get to the real topic at hand: his cock. It’s not the biggest—6.76 (17.1704 cm) inches, rounded to the nearest decimal—but Rafayel is a grower, okay. And what he has is a masterpiece. Gorgeous. I mean gorgeous. The kind of cock that makes you want to worship him, offering yourself up at his altar. There’s a bit of girth to it, too, and trust me, it’s a blessing in itself.

The head? Perfectly shaped, a stunning, pretty pink—honestly, it could be my new favorite lipstick shade. As for his pubic hair? None. Nada. Rafayel is smooth, clean, and pristine. (or he has designs because, yes the fuck he would) But here’s the thing: he doesn’t care what you do with yours. Whatever you’re working with, it’ll drive him wild.

Oh, and the veins. He doesn’t have many, but each one is perfectly placed like his cock was crafted by the gods themselves (maybe because he is one). No more than three, all connecting at various places on his shaft, and if you trace your fingers on it—even if it's a feather-light touch, his cock will jump. It’s almost too pretty—like a work of art you can’t stop staring at.

☆

Now, let’s talk about Rafayel as the Lemurian. His cock in this form? Thick. Fat. Gloriously imposing. At a solid nine inches (22.86 cm), it’s crowned with a knot at the base that’s thick and impossibly enticing. And his shaft is covered in soft, smooth scales—silky to the touch, like oiled skin or delicate petals. That knot? It’s primal, and when he’s overcome by the need to breed, it’s game over. Once he’s inside, don’t even think about running. You’re his, and he’s not letting you go until he’s filled you with his little sea heirs.

Oh, and just imagine him murmuring in that low, teasing voice: “Isn’t this what you wanted, pretty girl?” And you know his eyes are dark and overcome with need.

The scales don’t stop at his cock, either. They trail up his sides, climbing his torso, adding a texture that’s as sensitive as it is otherworldly. When you run your hands over him, he’s electrified, almost trembling with the intensity of sensation. And his cock? Hyper-sensitive. In this form, he’s consumed by the urge to breed, to claim you completely.

Careful what you wish for—because when Rafayel takes you, there’s no turning back.

X6.5GGPT - #c97677

As we all know, Xavier’s figure is quite shrouded in clothes. But truly—his figure is imposing. He’s tall, surprisingly muscular, it’s easy to forget this man is a trained (experienced) hunter. Of course he’s in good shape—it’s impossible for him not to be. He needs to be agile and perceptive—just like how he fucks by the way (like a jack rabbit).

So, his cock. Well, it's pretty—too pretty. A solid six and a half inches (16.51 cm), and yes, he’s a grower. Like I said, his clothes hide everything. And it’s thick, too thick for his own good—Xavier has a habit of reveling in your reaction to it—everytime. When he pulls his pants down and he watches your eyes grow big, your pupils dilate, he can see the wheels turning in your head. 

The head is like a mushroom and is so pretty pink, it has a beautiful red tint to it. So thick and it stretches you out everytime, and the tears pooling in your eyes get him going, he might say something like “You’re everything—do you know that? Everything.” Oh gosh and he keeps the hair low and trimmed or he’s bald—a perk of aging slowly is that everything grows slowly too.

And did i mention—he can make it glow. The craziest thing about him is that he's a come machine. He has this innate ability to pump endless amounts of come into you—he needs too. He has too much stamina and can go forever.

He’s literally fucking insatiable, once he has a taste of you. 

☆

R6.76GGPV: rafayel-6.76inch-girthy-grower-pink-veiny

X6.5GGPT: xavier-6.5inch-grithy-grower-pink-trimed