#like 'what if there was a reality where i liked this?'

[hrrtshape]

you can manifest anything in days, hours, even seconds.

you ever think about how you’re shifting realities right now? you just did it. again. and again. and. boom. there it goes. you’re not stuck in one solid, concrete world. you’re a flipbook of possibilities, and every second, a new page turns. the you reading this isn’t the you from five seconds ago. that version of you is gone. poof. never to return. god, i miss her.

so, why do people think manifestation takes time? time is just the illusion that makes reality feel digestible to our little human brains. but you don’t "wait" for things. you shift to them.

LOA isn’t about "forcing reality" like you’re wrestling fate to the ground. it’s about assuming you’re already in the reality where your desire exists. because the multiverse is infinite. every possibility is real somewhere. you’re not "creating" your dream life. you’re just moving to the timeline where it’s already true.

you can literally manifest in milli-seconds. the second you assume something is true, you land in the reality where it’s true. the only reason it sometimes feels "slow" is because you keep doubting it, wobbling between frequencies like a radio that’s not quite locked in.

for example, you want your dream body? kewl. shift to the parallel reality where you already have it. no, i don’t mean work out for six months and hope for the best. i mean assume, right now, that you have it, and live as though you do. time is fake, and you don't need it. your cells aren’t checking their watches. you can wake up in two hours with the body you’ve always wanted, because why not? that timeline exists. people have done it. the only thing between you and that reality is the idea that it’s "too unrealistic."

and what’s more unrealistic? the concept of shifting infinite times per second through an ever-expanding multiverse of possibility, or the idea that one of those infinite realities just so happens to contain the exact thing you want and all you have to do is land in it?

anyways. "shifting" and "manifesting" aren’t two different things. they’re just two perspectives on the same mechanism. you shift every second, every moment, all the time. and manifestation is just deliberate shifting. picking the station instead of letting the static choose for you.

so, no more "waiting." no more "how long will it take?" because it’s already happened. the moment you say this is my reality now. congrats. you just shifted.

　　　. . . you can read more about this here <3

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

(genuine question sorry if it comes across as spam or trolling) is porn addiction not actually a thing? and how is it connected to terf stuff (again genuinely want to know so I don’t repeat the retoric)

No worries anon, I do not get enough asks for things to come across as spam or trolling.

But yeah no, porn addiction is not a thing. Over two decades of research has not proven a goddamn thing; rather, it's proven that it doesn't exist. [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] *note, some of these are more accessible than others and some are more specific

While those who believe in it will present what seems to be a mountain of evidence for it, their evidence is often unscientific or unreliable or uses flawed measures or uses incredibly small sample sizes, including a sample of 1 in some cases.

The actual scientific consensus is that while excessive watching of porn can be a bad habit and can negatively impact your life, you can't become addicted to it the way that you can with things like alcohol. Things like alcohol addiction or tobacco addiction are related to a significant change in the neuronal transmission in your brain. Like certain drugs mimic certain neurotransmitters and impact the neuro-receptors on either side of a synapse.

Porn doesn't do that. Or moreso, porn is not unique in how it can change your brain chemistry. Someone who spends twelve hours a day seven days a week watching reality TV doesn't have a habit inherently different to someone who spends the same amount of time watching porn.

Often excessive watching of porn is a symptom of a larger issue such as depression. Many of those who self-report as porn addicts match the primary diagnosis of depression.

Also, within research, it is often found that those who self-report a porn addiction watch the same amount of or less of porn as someone who doesn't report it, mostly because a lot of it is related to shame and guilt and not addictive behaviour.

Porn addiction as an idea is most often rooted in religiosity and not science.

It can also be rooted in terfism. Because terfs hate porn.

Their arguments against porn boil down to the idea that women cannot and should not have sexual autonomy. They dress it up obviously, but if it walks like a duck and talks like a duck, it's a misogynist.

Almost any argument against porn they make can be easily countered by the fact that all their criticisms occur in every industry that exists currently, especially so in creative industries.

The porn industry is not uniquely exploitative. If people's labour is involved, it's probably being exploited or it has the potential to be exploited. Not knowing if the person on screen was treated well on set is not unique to porn, you know how many movies I can list that included actors being treated like shit? The porn industry does not have an issue with human trafficking that is unique to any other industry; it's a massive issue in industries with manual labour. etc.

Point is, it is not inherently evil. Terfs want you to think it is though because A) they hate women and B)

To them, porn equals predatory men (they include trans women in this) exploiting poor innocent women who cannot possibly consent.

The idea of women who actively partake in sex work and enjoy doing so is mind breaking for them; they often rationalise it as the women being mentally ill and being indoctrinated by porn. The idea of porn addiction suits them well because they believe porn is inherently evil like men are.

Terfs can't perceive any situation where women are not being actively victimised by men. They are always the victims and they always need protection from men who are inherently evil and inherently predatory.

They're misogynists and idiots (and very often very racist though that's not currently relevant).

I don't know how coherent this is. It is approaching the time I go to sleep so it might be very rambly. I hope it was helpful anyway. Feel free to ask for clarification that I'll reply to in the morning.

[wilwheaton]

Democrats can’t just stand idly by ... several frustrated progressive activists and movement leaders told me. They should be communicating to voters that Trump “is shutting down the government, and stripping it for parts to sell to billionaires,” April Glick Pulito, a progressive communications strategist, said. But Democrats aren’t getting it across, a reality that is disheartening, she told me, but also symbolic. “It’s part of why we fuckin’ lost,” she said. “It’s why people stayed home.” She and others I spoke with are demanding that Democrats be louder and more forceful—using resolutions and press conferences, sure, but also creative social-media campaigns and stunts for the cameras. “Speak like normal people, on platforms that normal people access,” Watts said. “I am not reading your press release. Get on every platform I’m on—talk to me on an Instagram reel, or a Substack live. Tweet things that explain what’s happening and how I can help or what you’re going to do to fix it.”

Democrats Wonder Where Their Leaders Are

[kianamaiart]

Just asking but say this pilot blows up and it's amazeballs (don't criticize me for saying that we're on Tumblr of all places), like we know it'll be. What would it actually take to make IDWTBAMG a full on green it series? Would you have to go through Disney or would you try to source it to something like Glitch and how could we help in making the show a reality?

That's a great question, I don't really know!

A lot of it would be on me to take the time to actually go out and make the effort to pitch around. Though if the pilot does REALLY well then there would likely be more interest and also gives me legs to stand on when pitching. It will serve as a nice proof of concept! Studios are really big on existing IP and built in audiences currently. I was told by an industry veteran and one of my showrunners that I'd have a decent chance pitching original IP because "I myself would be the the existing IP and I have the built in audience already".

That itself isn't enough obviously, the product also has to be good but I do think that I have something fun here. So honestly, the best thing as the audience that you can do to help is just spreading the word, supporting the pilot when it comes out and showing interest in the other art/comics I've been doing with the characters (which most of you are very much already doing, thank you ;0;)

I will say I do have a couple leads and have some studio interest but I also wanna make sure that if I make this, it goes somewhere where it's a good fit. And then also just wanna get the pilot first just to gauge interest. One step at a time!

[thewickedbohemian]

there it is, the connection between the themes of the first two Librarians seasons, the Arthurian stories are real the way they are in the The Librarians universe because the same process that makes Fictionals did its work on history "enhancing" whatever the truth was because of the stories making them a bootstrap paradox where the history literally became (and not just in our perception) the way the stories show it because of the stories

If the show was still going (I don't know what topics previously addressed The Next Chapter will cover) and accepted specs I would have written something connected to some other public domain after-the-fact-addition (like the Dark Young of Shub-Niggurath or something) to not only imply that that being a case of the whole Fictional-belief-being-strong-enough-to-retcon-history/mythology would mean that's true for Arthuriana but also that (without taking away the show or the actors as this doesn't make the stories go away, perhaps it'd make it some kind of Wormhole X-Treme situation) The Librarians could bootstrap itself into becoming based-on-a-true-story in our reality by way of its own magic system.

Hey, The Librarians does apparently have Doctor Who as somehow both fictional and real in its universe and this latest era of Doctor Who does deal a lot with metafictional stuff as much as it can without making itself true in our universe

Finding out that Lancelot was apparently the invention of a french writer is absolutely hysterical to me. 12th century french poet sitting around reading arthurian romances and thinking "yeah these stories are pretty good but I think what they really need is a french guy who shows up and fucks arthurs wife"

[im-so-normal-iswear]

HELLO!

May I request a Yandere Sonic, Shadow and Silver (seperate) with a fem reader where comes from a different reality where they are fictional and somehow the hedgehogs became attached and obsessed with reader, reader is very much aware of their behavior and is also one of the reasons why she wants to go home to her own reality fast.

Sending loves to youu!!🫶🏻🤍

A/n: poll on, so now I'm putting images, I couldn't find any good ones

Yandere triple s x reader

Sonic:

At first, you couldnct believe it, you were in Sonics world.

The rolling green hills, the endless loops, the vibrant colors of the world, it was surreal. And meeting Sonic? That was the best part.

He was exactly like you imagined. Charismatic, funny, energetic. You geeked out about meeting him, and he was amused by how much you already knew about him. Sonic took an immediate liking to you, eager to show you around and let you experience the world firsthand.

The first few days were a dream come true. Running through Green Hill Zone, meeting Tails, going toe-to-toe with Eggman (it was actually more like watching Sonic handle it while you stood on the sidelines). Everything felt like a perfect adventure, straight out of a game.

Then, things started getting... off.

It began subtly. Sonic insisted on staying close to you all the time. You figured it was just him being protective. After all, you were just a human, and this world was full of dangers. But the more time passed, the more suffocating it became.

He started pulling you away from the others, cutting conversations short when you were with Tails or Amy. At first, he made excuses, "Hey, let’s get outta here! I've got something way cooler to show ya!" but you quickly realized he was isolating you.you started getting weird dreams.

You dreamed of your real home, your reality, the place you desperately wanted to return to. But every time you woke up, Sonic was already there, sitting beside you with an unreadable expression.

"Another bad dream?" he asked, his voice casual.

When you admitted what it was about, his expression darkened.

"You really wanna go back, huh?" He leaned closer, his smile strained. "I don't get it. You've got me here. What's better than that?"

The moment you realized something was deeply wrong was when you tried asking Tails about ways to return home.

Sonic snapped.

One second, he was his usual self, the next, he had grabbed your wrist, his grip too tight.

"Why do you keep talking about that?" His voice wavered, his usual confident tone slipping into something more desperate. "Aren't you happy here? With me?"

You tried to reason with him, but his grip only tightened. His eyes, usually bright and full of life, had a wildness to them.

"You belong here now" he murmured, more to himself than to you.

From then on, he never left your side. Your freedom was a distant memory. Anytime you tried sneaking off to talk to Tails, Sonic was there. If you attempted to run, he caught you within seconds, always smiling, always acting like it was a game.

"Aw, c'mon, Y/N, you know you can't outrun me."

Every time you tried to bring up leaving, his mood shifted. His smiles became forced, his voice strained.

"Look." he eventually said one night, his voice eerily soft as he trapped you in his arms. "I don't care what reality you came from. This is where you stay."

No matter how fast you tried to run, Sonic would always be faster.

And he wasn't letting you go.

Shadow:

Unlike Sonic, Shadow wasn't immediately friendly.

He kept his distance when you first arrived in the world, observing you with narrowed, calculating eyes. He didn't trust you, not at first. You were an anomaly, something that shouldn't exist in his reality.

But as time passed, Shadow became curious about you. How did you know so much about him? Why did you seem so comfortable around him when most people feared him?

You intrigued him.

Slowly, he started spending more time around you. He was never openly affectionate, but he showed his care in small ways, keeping you close when woth others, ensuring you never strayed too far, glaring at anyone who got too friendly with you.

And then, one day, you mentioned wanting to go home.

Shadow froze.

"You want to leave?" His voice was cold, unreadable.

You explained everything, the fact that he and his world were fictional in your reality, that you had a life to return to. You expected him to be logical about it.

Instead, his expression darkened.

"No."

You turned back to him. "...No?"

Shadow stepped closer, his eyes burning into yours.

"You belong here. With me."

It wasn't a request. It was a statement.

That was when your nightmare truly began.

Shadow started following you everywhere, wether you were aware or not. Always watching, always near. If you ever tried to leave his sight, he'd appear within seconds, his expression always unreadable.

He sabotaged any attempt you made to leave. If you tried to seek help from Tails or Eggman, their machines mysteriously malfunctioned. If you ran, Shadow found you instantly, his Chaos Control ensuring you never got far.

He never hurt you, but his presence was suffocating. Every conversation ended the same way.

"You can't leave."

There was no reasoning with him.

Shadow wasn't keeping you here out of malice.

He was keeping you here because, to him, you were the only thing left worth protecting.

Even if it meant stealing your freedom.

Silver:

Silver was the sweetest at first.

He was kind, gentle, and eager to help you. When you arrived in his world, he was fascinated, your knowledge, your personality, your very existence intrigued him.

And for a while, everything was perfect.

Silver went out of his way to make you comfortable, ensuring you had everything you needed. He was protective, but not overbearing, at least, not at first.

But then, you mentioned going home.

Silver's expression fell, his ears flattening. "What...? You want to leave?"

You tried to explain, but his hands trembled as he grasped your shoulders.

"You can't leave." His voice wavered, his usual optimism crumbling. "I need you here."

From that moment on, Silver changed.

He became more desperate, always clinging to you one way or another, never being more than three feet from you.

Whenever you tried to argue, he just shook his head, pleading. "Please don't talk like that. I love you, Y/N."

He would do anything to keep you.

And if that meant trapping you in his world forever...

Then so be it.

[katebishopsbaefy]

No Thinking

billie eilish x reader

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

summary: you break a "rule" and billie deals with you.

warnings: basically pure smut, mean!billie, dumbification, teasing, overstimulation, pussy slaps, crying

words: 1163

a/n: katebishopsbaefy posting three times in one week?? unheard of💩 but i've had an ear infection all week so i've had lots of time to write!! i also have a few asks, so those'll hopefully get done soon. please keep sending them they're so much fun!! also billie's haircut looks so good?? i don't understand why we're all hating???

Billie's been away for the past few weeks, out on her tour with her friends. Of course, you’ve loved seeing her so happy and excited to be on the road for once, but that doesn’t mean you hadn’t missed her terribly. You’d been so lonely all alone in the big house, and all of those photos and videos in your hidden folder had just been too tempting; you couldn’t resist.

You and Billie had made a half-assed agreement a while ago about not touching yourselves when the other was away. It wasn’t really meant to be a real rule; it was just something you’d seen on some porn website, and you thought it might be fun to try.

You definitely hadn’t thought it all the way through.

When she came home, just a little over two hours ago, things had gotten heated between you so quickly. Her lips were all over your mouth, your neck, your chest, anywhere she could reach. 

“God, I missed you s’much” she mumbled against your cleavage as she sucked a dark purple bruise into the soft skin. You tugged on her dark hair, and whatever response you’d been about to mutter quickly turned into a gasp when you felt her start to swirl her tongue around your nipple, and then suck sharply. She must’ve really missed you.

She’d settled you on the bed, all fluffed up with blankets and pillows. She might’ve missed you, she might’ve wanted you so bad she could’ve burst, but she’d always make sure you’re comfortable first. You'd kissed for a while until she’d gotten too impatient to wait, so she kissed her way down your body, between your breasts, across your stomach, ending with some soft sucks to your thighs. She gently pushed them open, and mumbled against them, “You been good f’me?”

You understood exactly what she meant. No, you haven’t been good for her. It was just so hard, having no one to touch you for weeks. You had to do it yourself…but all you’ve ever wanted was to be good for her, so you nodded your head, your mumbled words coming out more slurred and sloppy than hers, “Mhm. Been good, promise.”

But when she’d feel the slight resistance of you trying to keep your legs shut, you knew you’d been caught. “C’mon, babygirl… lemme see,” she murmured in that soft, but patronizing tone that always had you stuttering and blushing. And of course, you folded.

Her hands slowly pushed your thighs apart, revealing your soaking wet heat. Her eyes had visibly darkened, her finger traced up and down your slit. It was like she’d forgotten that she was teasing you for a moment, so entranced by you, so unable to keep her hands off of you. An audibly shaky breath would pull her back to reality.

She’d slowly pushed a finger in you as her eyes met yours, and you’d immediately recognized that look on her face. She’d seen right through your lie. She’d be able to feel it.

“Aw, baby…”, she murmured in that tone, the one that made it feel like she was talking down to you (which she was). Her finger gently felt around, enough to make you clench, but she’d still been able to tell what you’d done. “Feels like you’ve been touchin’ yourself… have you? You been stretchin’ out your needy little hole while I was gone?”

 Your head was nodding along before you even realized what was happening. It’s just the way she talks to you, like she’s poking fun. It folds you right in half.

Billie softly clicked her tongue at you, and the tears sprang into your eyes when her finger traveled to your clit. She’d gotten you right where she wanted you; so overwhelmed you can't even think. And it’d only been a few minutes of teasing.

“You know the rules. Couldn’t’ve waited a few days f’me to get back? You’re that needy?” she teased, and you whined, already slipping into that headspace she loves to put you in where all you can do is feel. 

When her finger started to trace circles into your clit, you whined again and gazed up at her with dark, tearful eyes. “I-I’m sor-”, you started, but she cut you off with a sharp slap to your cunt. One physical act of humiliation among a sea of verbal jabs. You whimpered and jolted like usual, immediately closing your mouth.

“Nuh uh, no thinkin’, baby. Too dumb f’that right now. Just needa have your pussy fixed…”, she mumbled so sweetly, so cruelly, and you shivered at the implication. She was going to make you come until you were tight again.

She rubbed your clit until you were shaking and crying, making you finish one, two, three times. Making you finish until she was satisfied.

And now, after what’s felt like hours of abuse on your clit, she’s finally decided to move on.

She pulls her finger away, and gently taps your nub with it, just to watch your legs twitch. To make sure you're sensitive enough. Her finger finds its way back down to your hole, gently pushing into you in a way that makes you tense and whimper. And she grins that stupid, cheesy, lopsided grin that makes your stomach flip. She looks so sweet, but so mean.

Her fingers wrap around yours, leading your hand down your body until she’s separating your middle and ring finger from the rest. Before you even know what's happening, she’s guiding your two fingers into your pussy, and a matching pair of her fingers are holding the back of yours to force them against that spot that makes you see stars. Of course, you whine and squirm, much too overwhelmed and overstimulated to have four fingers pressed into you. You’re too tight to be so full. But, of course, she holds you down.

“Mmm… now you’re all nice ‘nd tight again. Feel it, babygirl?”, she teases, her voice dripping with soft cruelty as she fucks your fingers into you. When you don’t respond, she takes her thumb and grinds it against your swollen clit, hard enough to make you jolt and scream. Eyes fly open and fill with a fresh set of tears as you nod at her. Your chest rises and falls heavily with each breath, your hair is all messy from so much squirming, your red eyes brim with tears, and the sight just makes her groan. 

“Think we gotta stretch you out again, mama,” she murmurs, her lips finding their way to your cheek to kiss away your tears. It’s so sickly sweet compared to the way she’s started to pound into you. You hadn’t even realized, but she’d pulled your fingers out and replaced them with all four of her own, intent on making you scream and cry until you passed out. And after just a few more rounds, she succeeds.

Maybe you should’ve thought twice about making that dumb rule with her.

[aventurineswife]

Pls hear me out bcs this has been in my mind since FOREVER.

I have this idea of SAHSR with artist!reader 😖😖

Reader is a very talented artist that draws the characters and I like to imagine there's a whole museum filled with their arts of said characters

I like to think the paintings just spawn out of nowhere on the wall every few weeks lol

Maybe one day artist!reader has art block and no new paintings have been displayed, which makes everyone worry and confused until they started drawing their favorite character or something

"Artist note: Thank you for curing my art block, Sunday, I love you" and then 5 back to back portraits of him start appearing on the walls day by day LMAO

(If they see my drawings I'm burying myself in a grave🧍🏻‍♀️)

I'm lowkey new to your account, so I wanna be known as the 🤡 anon from now on if that's okay 😖 (Can't guarantee I'll drop by often)

NO BECAUSE THIS CONCEPT IS ACTUALLY SO PERFECT.

A self-aware HSR world where your art physically manifests into reality??? And not just that, but a whole ass museum dedicated to your work, where paintings of the characters just appear mysteriously on the walls every few weeks??? The way that would completely change how they view you is insane. 🙏😭

A grand, ethereal museum exists somewhere, where your artwork materializes on its own.

No one knows how or why it happens—only that every few weeks, new paintings appear, as if bestowed by fate itself.

The subjects of the paintings? The characters themselves. Their greatest moments. Their worst defeats. Their hidden smiles.

To the people of this world (aka the HSR verse), it’s a sacred place. A place that holds the true essence of their existence, captured by your divine hand.

Bronya, Gepard, and Argenti see it as a monument of unparalleled beauty. Your art is eternal proof of their existence.

Aventurine and Sampo act all casual about it ("Of course the great me would be featured!"), but internally, they memorize every single brushstroke you’ve painted of them.

Blade and Dan Heng? No thoughts, just ✨emotional damage✨. How do you capture their past so well? How do you see them so clearly?

Sunday and Black Swan analyze every single painting. Your art isn’t just art—it’s a glimpse into your thoughts, your emotions, your desires. And that knowledge is dangerous.

One day, the paintings stop appearing. No new portraits. No landscapes. Nothing. At first, they think it’s a test of patience. That you are simply waiting, watching. But then weeks pass. And the museum remains unchanged. Panic sets in. Did something happen? Did they offend you? Have you abandoned them? Some try to pray to you. Others try to seek out the museum’s secrets, searching for any clue as to why the paintings have stopped. Then, finally, after agonizing uncertainty, a new painting appears.

"Thank you for curing my art block, Sunday. I love you."

And with that, FIVE consecutive, highly detailed portraits of Sunday materialize on the walls, each one more extravagant than the last.

Sunday’s Reaction:

He doesn’t shut up about it for WEEKS.

Walks into the museum like it’s his own personal shrine now.

"Ah, yes. The Celestial Painter adores me. As expected."

He starts flexing it in front of the others. "Oh? No new paintings of you? Tragic. Can’t relate." (I love Sunday lmaoo)

Oh boy... If they ever find your sketchbook... I mean imagine!

The moment they find your personal sketchbook?

Yeah. No. You’re not living that one down.

Jing Yuan, Kafka, and Black Swan would be the first to pick apart every little detail in your sketches.

Himeko and Welt would be flattered but also deeply humbled. They know what it means to be immortalized in art.

March 7th would immediately take pictures and show them to everyone. "LOOK AT THIS CUTE ONE OF ME!!"

Blade and Dan Heng would absolutely implode. Seeing a soft, lovingly drawn version of themselves would wreck them emotionally.

Sunday? You already know. He frames your sketches of him. Personally.

You: "If they see my drawings, I’m burying myself in a grave."

Yeah, I'm gonna hold your hand for this one... You won’t need to. They are already worshipping you.

They revere your art because it is proof of their existence. They fear your silence because it means they’ve fallen from your favor. And when you return? They desperately seek your attention, your approval, your divine brushstrokes upon their forms.

You are not just an artist.

You are their creator, their storyteller, their muse.

And they will do anything to remain upon your canvas.

Sorry, this sounded a bit yandere now AHAHAHA...haha...ha...um... Yeah, BUG OUT!🏃‍♀️💨

Also, yes you can refer to that and don't worry!! 🫶

[rosiewitchescottage]

Let's get context here.

When we're talking

'let's get rid of or discourage anyone from reading these books'.

- Reason? Usually because there's some theme that certain people don't want to be known about, or because someone has issues with an author.

100% agreed that this is BAD - Books that talk about slavery, books that talk about The Holocaust.

These should always be widely available, even if they're not very well written, tell the story from an unusual angle or maybe get facts wrong.

All these have the value of getting the subject talked about, and the history studied.

Books that tell m/m or f/f love stories or show a family that simply has two dads or two mums. These books should be available, because whether people approve or disapprove, same sex relationships are a reality.

And as long as they're treated the same way as we'd expect a m/f couple to be, in a book aimed at the same age group, then where's the harm?

Then there's the saga of J K Rowling. You don't like her? You don't want to read her books? Well good news, because you don't have to do either.

But say that no one else should either? Try to erase J K Rowling as author of her own work?

Then don't go expecting to be seen as doing something 'good'.

When we're talking

"These books contain sexual/sexually related words and/or images, which makes them unsuitable for children and young teens. They do not belong in a school library or children's library'.

Then why would anyone have issue with these books being removed from such places?

As far as I know these books can be bought by parents for home use. So they're not getting outright banned.

People talk about children who've been sexually assaulted and needing to talk about what happened to them. And that's important. But I'm still not seeing how all these overly sexual details are necessary.

There's a world of difference between simply naming the body parts where no one should be touching them, especially not grown ups, and using the language of sexual acts!

We can and should be able to name all our body parts, using the right words. And children should know what constitutes a healthy and loving relationship.

But we can help them to talk about violations of this without language that they shouldn't need to know before the middle teens, at the earliest.

And this is NOT supposed to be an anti LGBT matter. This should apply whether a book is showing opposite sex or same sex couples.

As I said earlier. Little children should be able to see families with two same sex parents as well as opposite sex parents, or indeed grandparents.

The issue with 'Grandpa's Pride' shouldn't be that Grandpa has a male partner.

If this was shown exactly the same way that any other grandparents would be. Then I'd be singing a different tune.

Show Grandpa and his partner holding hands and happy, fine. But why the heck do little ones need to see leather BDSM Daddies?! 😡😡😡

[solxamber]

Valentines day event woowoowoo (dont burn yourself out aye!!)

Idia, romantic, "absolutely smitten" by Dodie (if i got that right-) :]

Hope it could be a fun one ! Stay safe ayeaye

i love the pining potential in the song!!! hope you like my interpretation of it <3

"I'm absolutely smitten" || Idia Shroud

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: Absolutely Smitten by Dodie

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 670

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers

Idia first sees you during orientation. Not in person, of course—there’s no way he’d willingly subject himself to a room full of loud, unpredictable people—but through his tablet, streaming the event from the safety of his dorm.

It’s routine, really, just scoping out who he’ll inevitably be avoiding for the next few years. But then the camera pans across the crowd, and he sees you.

And something unfamiliar stirs in his chest.

It’s a strange, unquantifiable feeling, something too big for him to handle, too much for his ribs to cage in. His fingers tighten around the tablet as he watches you smile at something someone says, and a thought creeps into his brain before he can stop it.

I wish that were me.

It’s over for him. Absolutely, completely, no-respawn doomed.

And when he actually gets to know you? Oh, he’s done for. Every interaction with you is a critical hit to his heart. You are bright where he is shadowed, warm where he is cold, a force of nature where he is content to be static.

And yet, somehow, you seem to like being around him. You talk to him, seek him out, sit with him even when he fumbles through his words and hides behind his hood.

He doesn’t know what to do with himself.

Idia Shroud, the ghost of Ignihyde, the one who would rather face a boss battle on the highest difficulty than make eye contact with another human being, wants nothing more than to be close to you.

He wants to talk to you about everything that makes his mind race at 3 AM, wants to know what makes you tick, wants to kiss you until he forgets what loneliness feels like.

But he can’t. Because you are you, and he is him, and the idea of ruining what he has with you is a fear greater than any horror game could ever conjure.

So he does nothing. He pines. He wonders.

Are you just being nice?

Would you ever see him that way?

Is he even worth your time?

And yet, he doesn’t know that you are just as smitten.

The day you met him is engraved in your brain like a prophecy fulfilled. You think he’s the one. It sounds ridiculous, impossibly romantic, something straight out of a visual novel, but you can’t shake the feeling that you and Idia are meant to be.

And so, one day, when you’re sitting next to him in his room—shoulders almost touching, his leg bouncing like a loading screen buffering at 99%—you slide a little closer.

“Idia.”

He stiffens. “W-what?”

“I like you.” A pause. “I really like you.”

His brain blue-screens.

You barely have time to process his expression—wide golden eyes, parted lips—before he starts tearing up.

“Wait, wait, are you okay?” You panic, reaching for him, but he shakes his head rapidly, hands clutching his hoodie like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

“You—” His voice cracks. “You actually—?”

You nod. “I mean, yeah. Kinda thought it was obvious.”

Obvious? Obvious? He’s been agonizing over this for months, drowning in his feelings, convinced you were nothing more than a dream he was too scared to wake up from. And yet, here you are, looking at him like he’s the greatest thing to ever happen to you.

He doesn’t know what to say. But you do.

So you pull him into a hug, letting him bury his face in your shoulder as he trembles. His hands hover before finally clutching the fabric of your shirt, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he holds on too tightly.

And for the first time in a long, long time, Idia feels whole.

He pulls back slightly, and when he looks at your soft smile, something inside him clicks into place. He’s never letting you go.

And when you look at his teary-eyed grin, you think the same thing.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[sheeezu]

"I'm here!" shifting challenge.

The concept:

Lately my beliefs regarding shifting have been something like this; I think a shift happens when we personally create reality, fully, and completely.

In my first method, it was based around 4D! But did it work? For me, yes.

But i wanted to check, what would be the quickest, fastest, and the instant most way to shift?

This is centered around an ask I got!

Anyways...

The concept is to spawn into a specific scenario in your dr, like you flicked on a switch, by playing around with both the 3D and 4D.

The application:

(The challenge)

Step 1: Lay down, get comfortable, all the basics.

Step 2: Set an intention; say your affirmations (as long as you get any sort of symptom)

Step 3: choose a place in your dr, it has to be moment where something is about to take place, it can't be when you're waking up from sleep in your cozy dr bed. For example, you have your head down in your office, you're to be met with a task which requires your input.

Step 4: Recommended to be sitting up, first spend a few moments feeling your dr body sitting up, there's a unique sensation associated with it, with your back stretched and all that, in this way, you'll detach from your cr's surrounding, where you're laying down. (The introduction of 3D)

Step 5: Now, start thinking thoughts relating to the current event that's about to happen, you need to get into the thinking process of your dr self, who's expecting the scenario to take place. (Introduction of 4D)

In theory you're supposed to pop into that scenario! You've completed all the steps required to construct reality, so congratulations.

Yes, yes, we achieved it by finding a loophole, which is a method to move forward the logical side of the cr brain.

(You can alternate step 4 and 5)

This is experimental, so tell me the results, I suppose? :)

[r3ynah]

The people we lose along the way;

A prompt where Danny's old middle school lab professor was the Joker (from Batman: The Killing Joke) and Danny and his classmates call him Professor J, Him and his wife Jianne was born and raised in Amity Park, so overtime being surrounded by large amounts of ectoplasm, Professor J. became a liminal.

And Prof J. was actually a good teacher, the kind of teacher that will let you eat in his class, give you snacks at random times, and someone you can seek solace and peace whenever you get stressed.

Him and his wife always were there for everyone as a shoulder to cry on or just a helping hand, they were dearly beloved by the whole community.

Professor J was actually very funny, but his humor was only circled around amity park due to the fact it's a town not very social with other city, towns, social media, or the net, and they are famously known to keep to themselves.

Nonetheless everyone saw the potential in Professor J, and supported him to the fullest, why they ended up in Gotham was a mystery (some excuse that'll I'll probably come up later, but I'll let you guys do the imagining).

I like to think Gotham has very toxic ectoplasm so when He and his wife moved there he couldn't handle the toxins and it affected him mentally and physically.

after they moved everything started to go downhill, prof J first worked in a lab, then he quitted his job and became a comedian and sadly failing, Jianne almost who was almost due to give birth sadly died due to an accident, and then the Joker happened.

Now a couple a years after the comic took place, the amity parkers (they don't know what happened in these past years, they only know that the professor J. they know became a well-known comedian, or so he says) still in touch with Prof J. continued to talk to him through phone calls, messages and letters most of the time it's just his students that call, and some of his few close friends there, they tried to ask on how was Jianne doing, only to get abruptly interrupted by the rogue, who just says that she's doing better than ever or that she's resting, which they believed because they trusted their Professor.

Sometimes the joker also sends gift to his former students, Danny sometimes gets planet themed items, Sam gets mailed plants that are not native in amity park, Tucker gets new technology, Paulina gets a new plushie for her plushie collection, and so on

So, as payback they decide to go to Gotham to search for their professor J, which made them meet new friends along the way, Danny with Jason Todd, Sam with Poison Ivy, Tucker with Tim Drake, Paulina with Barbara, Star with Steph, etc..

And they're very vague with their reasoning, just only saying that they're visiting their former professor and surprising them, and then they get kidnapped in like a museum or charity event or something that has a lot of people gathered, so the amity parkers alongside other civilians became hostages.

And of course, the Bats ad Birds immediately went out to save them, only for Joker to reveal himself to everyone, and he locks eyes with the amity parkers who looked at him in realization, betrayal, and horror, and Joker stared back at them with a taken aback look that merged into panic, his grin still plastered on his face.

They couldn't swallow the reality that their professor became the person, he promised he wouldn't be, he promised to them (Because you know damn well the adults from amity park couldn't care for their children). and to see the only trusted adult in their town become one of the most disgusting and horrible human beings to ever step foot in the earth was truly heartbreaking for the group.

And for once, Joker felt like he was burning inside out because of their stares that they emitted. he mourned as guilt, sadness, and grief swallowed him for the person he used to be.

He treated those kids like his own and he and Jianne loved those kids to bits, so he did the only logical decision he could think as he pushed aside his crazed rogue tendencies, and made his last decision as a friend, professor and father and ordered his goons to take the students away from this place safe and sound and threatened them to make sure not a single hair was pulled out of them or anything to cause harm.

He watched as Paulina cried for him, Sam with her brows furrowed at him betrayal etched in her face, Tucker not believing the reality of his favorite professor, Dash frozen in place, Star was holding on to Wes for support, and Danny looked at the Joker in betrayal and anger mouthing the words 'You promised, you promised to not be like them.'

As they were dragged away

Joker only looked away to face the bats, a smile still etched on his face but somehow it looked a little bit dimmer.

[lilybug-02]

Personal headcannon:

I don't think the pale king had foresight, or at least not after "taking mortal form"

The pale king made mistakes when building the kingdom, like the failed tram station, pissing off his neighbours, and then REALLY angering the Radiance causing a Plague that pretty much destroyed everything he worked for.

Like, that doesn't sound like someone who knows what's going to happen!!

I can imagine the pale king telling his people that he has everything planned and that "he knows there are great things in the future for them" and worshippers thinking that it's him predicting the future.

His followers worshipped him and thought, according to that water fountain down in, where you donate a lot of Geo, that he was larger than what he actually was. They thought he was greater than what he actually was.

And when he couldn't meet those expectations, he ran and hid himself away.

OH MY GOSH YESSSS.

I kinda want to steal this headcannon now because the Pale King SUCKED at "predicting the future". He had so many mistakes. So many failures.

But the very fact his citizens believed in him, all the stories they told about him being a bright light, a great leader, a GOD, it made him look untouchable.

But in reality, when you finally see him at the top of the world, he's no taller than the average bug. He is no God. He is nothing, but something to be dethroned.

God I love his stupid characterization. All throughout the story I got such colonizer vibes from him. He sounded like someone who had power, but wasn't a strong person. That his power only came from the followers who gave him such a position. AJHSBFKLbasdkfjbn

Same with the White Lady tbh. The second she said the Hollow Knight was "defective" I wanted to slap her a new one.

[heartsriki]

FOR YOUR EYES ONLY ⌇편지

pairing ᝰ ni-ki x fem!reader — featuring.. jungwon | word count: 2200+

⌇ … warnings & genre ↺ highschool au!, fluff, misunderstandings, sunshine x grumpy.

synopsis — After seeing your tiny crush nishimura riki sneak something into the confession box you just had to investigate.

lee's ₊˚⊹ ᰔ comment ┊guys I swear ill make a non highschool au with riki soon... I couldn't help myself.. anyways its FEB!! can't wait to write valentines themed fics!

Finally.

It was your favorite month of the whole year.

You worked as a library assistant at your school—not because you particularly loved the job, but because it was better than joining a club.

Well… that’s what you told people.

In reality, you had a secret gig.

Tucked away in the most secluded part of the library was your confession box—a simple, unassuming container where students could slip in anonymous notes pouring out their feelings.

It started as something just for you. A place to vent when things got overwhelming. But then, he found out.

Jungwon.

You had no choice but to let him in on your little secret, and somehow, he became your best friend. Over time, word spread, and people started using the box themselves. What once held only your thoughts turned into a place where students whispered their love stories into folded pieces of paper.

Only Jungwon knew you were the one behind it.

And now, February had arrived—the holy grail of confessions. Sure, people submitted notes year-round, but around Valentine’s Day? The numbers spiked.

You weren’t going to lie. You loved it. Not just the thrill of reading them (and occasionally sharing the best ones with Jungwon, who never breathed a word), but the idea that you were helping people express what they were too afraid to say out loud.

So here you were, stationed at the front desk, pretending to browse book requests on the computer when a group of girls giggled their way to the back of the library.

Your eyes flickered toward them, amused. Definitely not because you were excited to read their confessions later. Nope. Definitely not.

Then, moments later—he walked in.

Riki.

The second you saw him, your instincts flared up. Suspicious.

Riki never stepped foot in the library. He barely did his assignments, let alone read for fun. So why was he here?

You watched, careful not to make it obvious. He glanced around, acting almost… nervous? And then, without a word, he disappeared into the back.

Seconds later, he reappeared from the other side—hands in his pockets, expression unreadable, walking out as if nothing had happened.

Your breath hitched.

No way.

Did Nishimura Riki just put a confession in your box?

Your hand scrambled for your phone. You had to tell someone.

You:

JUNGWONJUNGWONOMG

PLSPLSANSWERLOOKATURPHONE

Wonnie:

Ok what the hell

What is it?

You:

You are NEVER going to believe who just slid into the back of the library.

Wonnie:

Is it Jake again? Poor guy

Maybe Jay? Idk tell me

You:

Nishimura… Riki…

Wonnie:

… Fr?

Maybe he confessed to you?

You:

Right, totally.

Wonnie:

Think about it.

And you did think about it.

You and Riki had a… relationship. Not exactly a friendship, but not total strangers either.

You first met in detention.

It was your first time there, and you had no idea what you were supposed to do. So, naturally, you turned to the guy next to you—the one with his headphones on, slouched in his seat like he owned the place.

Curious, you tapped his shoulder.

He flinched, looking caught before turning to glare at you. “What?”

You blinked. “How did you sneak those in? Can I listen too?”

Before he could answer, you asked another question. “Wait, also—what are we supposed to do in here?”

His face twisted in disbelief. “What do we do in detention? You sit here. Now be quiet before—”

“Mr. Nishimura, sneaking electronics in again?” The teacher’s voice cut in, hand outstretched.

Riki groaned, slumping back in his seat before begrudgingly handing over his phone and headphones.

When the teacher walked away, he snapped his head back to you, eyes burning with betrayal.

You swore he glared at you for the rest of the day.

Ever since then, you tried to make it up to him—with snacks, lunch, even passing him worksheets to copy. Eventually, after weeks of bugging him, he forgave you.

Kind of.

Even now, he still acted so indifferent.

Whenever you waved at him in the hallway, he looked away. When you invited him to sit with you and your friends, he ignored you. Even when you walked beside him, talking about anything and everything—he barely responded.

At first, you assumed he was just bad with people. But then you saw him with his friends—laughing, joking, talking.

So why was he only like this with you?

Eventually, you gave up.

You distanced yourself, refusing to waste energy on someone who clearly wanted nothing to do with you.

But then, every now and then, you’d catch him staring—or see him approach you, only to hesitate and walk away.

It was confusing. Frustrating. You told yourself you didn’t care anymore.

Until the school trip.

It had been late at night when you were sent to fetch supplies from the shed—a small, isolated building at the edge of the woods.

You weren’t scared, but walking alone with only a flashlight wasn’t exactly comforting.

By the time you found everything, thunder rumbled outside. Moments later, the skies opened up.

Heavy rain. Lightning. The kind of downpour that turned dirt trails into slippery nightmares.

Running back wasn’t an option.

So, hugging your knees to your chest, you sat in the shed—silent, alone, trying not to cry.

Minutes passed. Then—

The door burst open.

You jumped, heart nearly stopping—until your eyes locked with his.

Riki.

He stood there, soaked from head to toe, breathless, his curls sticking to his forehead.

Did he… run here?

He didn’t speak. Just stared for a moment, like he was checking if you were okay, before stepping inside and sitting next to you.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “You’re helpless, you know that?”

You blinked, then let out a soft, teary laugh. He was trying to act tough. But he was clearly worried.

Neither of you spoke after that. You just sat there, listening to the storm. Well, you spoke—rambling like you used to, and for once, he didn’t seem to mind.

By the time the rain cleared, something between you had shifted.

And now, months later, here you were—staring at an empty confession box, knowing Riki put something inside, yet not finding his name anywhere.

Jungwon’s voice pulled you back.

“I knew I’d find you here.” He smirked. “Anything good?”

You forced a laugh, trying to mask your disappointment. “Yeah, some interesting ones. Oh—Minji completely dropped her last crush and moved on to a new one. Isn’t that crazy?”

Jungwon squinted at you. “You’re looking for Riki’s, aren’t you?”

You groaned, immediately dropping your head onto the table. “I’m pitiful. Don’t look at me.”

Jungwon laughed, dragging a chair out and sitting across from you. “You’re not pitiful. Just mildly down bad.”

You groaned, keeping your forehead against the table. “But I know he put something in there. I saw him! I was so ready to read it, but it’s like—poof!—nothing!”

Jungwon tapped his fingers on the table, thinking. “You sure he actually put something in the box?”

You lifted your head slightly. “Of course, I literally watched him sneak in.”

“Then…” Jungwon grinned knowingly. “What if he took something out?”

That made you pause. You sat up straight, eyes wide. “Wait… What?”

“Think about it,” Jungwon continued. “If he put in a confession and realized he wasn’t ready, maybe he took it back.”

Your mind raced. That… actually made sense. But why would Riki take it back? And more importantly—who was he confessing to?

The thought made your stomach twist, and you weren’t sure why.

Jungwon smirked, clearly enjoying the sight of you struggling. “You could just ask him, you know.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, right. ‘Hey, Riki! Weird question, but did you happen to steal a confession from my box?’”

“Why not?” Jungwon shrugged. “Or are you scared of the answer?”

You opened your mouth, ready to deny it, but the words never came. Were you scared? The idea of Riki confessing to someone else made your chest feel tight in a way you weren’t ready to unpack.

Before you could respond, the student council room door creaked open again.

And there he was.

Riki stood in the doorway, hands shoved into his pockets, his hair a little bit above his eyes which flickered between you and Jungwon before settling on you.

Jungwon raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two of you. “Welp. That’s my cue to leave.” He patted your shoulder before slipping past Riki, whispering a quick, “Good luck,” on his way out.

The door clicked shut. Silence.

You swallowed. “Um… Did you need a book or—”

“I didn’t take it back.”

Your breath hitched.

Riki sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “The letter. I didn’t take it back.”

Your heart was pounding now. You tried to keep your voice steady. “What do you mean?”

His gaze dropped to the floor. “I put it in there without a doubt, I think… someone else removed it. Maybe it was a sign not to confess to you.”

You.

Your throat went dry. “It was… for me?”

Riki let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Obviously.”

You blinked. “Obviously? What do you mean obviously? You ignore me ninety percent of the time!”

He huffed, looking almost embarrassed. “I don’t ignore you.”

“You literally pretend not to hear me half the time!”

“Because I don’t know what to say!” Riki finally looked at you, frustration and something else—something softer—lingering in his expression. “You drive me crazy, you know that? You talk too much, you’re way too nosy, and you never leave things alone. And somehow, I—” He stopped, exhaling sharply. “I like you, okay?”

Your brain short-circuited.

Riki rolled his eyes at your stunned silence. “This is embarrassing.”

You snapped out of your trance. “Wait, wait. Back up. You like me?”

He groaned, turning toward the door. “Forget I said anything—”

You grabbed his sleeve before he could leave.

He froze.

Slowly, you grinned. “You like me.”

Riki’s ears were turning red. “Shut up.”

You laughed, warmth bubbling in your chest. You never thought you’d get anywhere with him, and yet—here he was, out of breath looking at you so fondly, confessing in the most Riki-like way possible.

February was definitely your favorite month of them all.

BONUS 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

The moment Riki stepped into the library, he knew he was making a mistake.

This wasn’t his scene. He didn’t do books, didn’t do anything that required more effort than necessary. But here he was, standing in the one place he actively avoided, shoving his hands deeper into his hoodie pockets as his eyes flickered toward the back.

He could feel your gaze on him.

You were always watching him.

Not in a weird way—more like you were constantly trying to figure him out. Always with that curious glint in your eyes, like he was a puzzle you were determined to solve.

He hated it.

No, that wasn’t true. He hated that he liked it.

And now, as he made his way toward the confession box—the stupidest thing he’d ever been a part of—he was hoping you weren’t paying too much attention.

With one last glance around, he slipped to the back, pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket, and dropped it inside.

Then, without missing a beat, he walked out through the other side, playing it cool.

It took everything in him not to look back.

He could already picture the way your brain was short-circuiting, the way you were probably grabbing your phone to text Jungwon. You always told him everything, after all.

Riki swore under his breath as he left the library.

He wasn’t even sure why he did it.

Well.

That was a lie.

He knew why.

It was because of you.

Because you confused the hell out of him.

You were supposed to be annoying—loud, persistent, way too nosy for your own good. You were supposed to be someone he could easily brush off, like he did with everyone else.

But you weren’t.

Because no matter how many times he ignored your waves in the hallway, you still smiled at him. No matter how often he shut you out, you never stopped trying.

And then you stopped.

You finally gave up on him.

And for some reason, that made his chest feel too tight.

Ever since that night on the school trip, when he found you curled up alone in the shed, it had been harder and harder to act like he didn’t care.

That night, when he heard you were missing—it was like he could imagine you with red eyed, shoulders shaking—he couldn’t stop himself.

Didn’t even think.

He just ran.

Ran straight into the storm, through the rain, barely able to see a damn thing—but knowing exactly where he was going.

When he finally got there, when he saw you small and fragile under the dim light, something in him cracked.

He never wanted to see you like that again.

But he didn’t know how to tell you that.

He wasn’t good with words. He wasn’t good with feelings.

So he wrote it down instead.

It wasn’t a confession, not in the way you expected.

But it was something.

Something for your eyes only.

Something he thought you would have found by now.

So when he walked passed the student council room later that evening, seeing you and Jungwon hunched over the pile of notes, he knew immediately.

You hadn’t seen it.

Because if you had, you wouldn’t be looking for his name like he overheard.

And now, as both your heads snapped toward him, your eyes wide and startled—

Riki sighed, stepping forward.

…You took it, didn’t you? He thought looking straight at Jungwon.

Because if you didn’t find his letter in the box…

Then someone must have.

What was Jungwon playing at?

What happens next? Click

[omlette-prince-of-denmark]

As a theatre scholar and practitioner, I feel like this doesn't always apply, but that may just be in my field, where your performers generally come face to face with their audience and to a degree depend on a connection between them. I personally try to always take them into account. Don't get me wrong - I LOATHE it when another director makes choices that betray that he's just scared of the audience and thus keeps it lukewarm.

But a big chunk of performing tends to be creating some sort of connection or energy between the performers and the audience. Thinking about target audience can become very crucial actually. I recall working on a project that was a 10-minute show meant to be performed at a train station, at random times during the day to just sorta brighten the travellers' and commuters' days. So far so good. One of the pieces chosen for this was an extremely multi-layered poem about drinking. The director, scared as he was that if made too complicated no one would like it, played it purely for entertainment value. It ended up more like a celebration of escaping reality via alcohol. Nothing could persuade him to overthink this.

Now I'm sure you can imagine who our regular audience ended up being. Those who saw multiple performances per day for a three week period. That's right. The homeless that had claimed the station as their sort of base.

And now imagine how these performers felt: with their relatively cushy lives, playing a slapstick kinda scene and blurting out lines like "I drink til I can't no more all day long". And imagine me, who had to politely intervene a thousand times so the regulars didn't touch or otherwise startle the performers. They were the ones we interacted with the most in this piece. And always when we were on the cusp of earning their trust or respect, this fucking scene came on!!! They felt so mocked. So humiliated. It wasn't the intention AT ALL. The poem had been part of a thingy that we were supposed to pick our scenes from but... since there was no consideration about the target audience at a train station, the whole thing was an embarrassing disaster that in my eyes did more damage to the atmosphere there than good.

So I guess I'm trying to say, be weird, don't be scared that people might not like it and really question if you find yourself aggressively tailoring and marketing a thing to a specific demographic. But if you are tied to a time and a place and have to interact with real humans, context IS important and considering it can be the difference between a crazy fight between a bunch of angry homeless people and some confused scared actors who didn't know what they had done wrong.

fuck an "intended audience" how about we normalize engaging with new and unfamiliar art pieces on their own terms

[solbaby7]

Slipping Away

pairing: azriel x reader

[ masterlist ]

[ part one ]

warnings: mentions of poor mental health, probably swearing, underlying sexual themes, angst babe

summary: You've been drowning for a long time and finally someone notices

—

There’s a rooftop garden just above the townhouse in Velaris and you’re not quite sure why you’ve never bothered to visit it until now.

A blissfully unaware city lives just beyond it, past the stone walls and dense privacy fence made of cypress trees. The residual sounds of their freedom hits your ears, nothing more than distant chatter that carries along a brisk breeze.

Even that is enviable—the way they exist with no regard of the space they may take up.

Makes you try a little harder when you apply paint to canvas; desperate to feel what they must when mimicking the light reflecting from their souls.

The city twinkles, stars shining so bright that they seem to just hang from the sky like pearls, some pulsing with rich ruby tones and others glimmering with amethyst. Bridges and buildings glow from the marbled sheen of the moon, its beam breathing life into everyone but you.

“Been out here long enough, don’t you think?”

You startle at the voice, its honey smooth rumble shattering the little bubble you’d built around yourself. Azriel stands there in the doorway, unceremoniously leaned against its framing with arms crossed and a brow raised. “I’m not finished.” The words seem to snap you back into reality, limbs a little shaky from the recoil that takes place when a tethered soul hastily returns back to its meat suit.

You close up like a clam, all but throwing your paintbrush into the water dish and body blocking the entirety of your canvas.

Surely he notices the change in body language, he’s kind enough not to mention it. Wings shuffle in a touch closer to his form, subconsciously retaining heat from the bitter chill in a motion so natural you can’t help but be reminded of how many centuries he’d endured in such weather. “Maybe so, but it’s cold out and you don’t even have a coat.”

He’s not wrong and at the mention of it, you finally seem to notice the goosebumps dotting your flesh. Bare arms and exposed ankles, feet with no shoes and fabric too flimsy to properly stave off the effects of such elements. “Guess I was just too focused to even notice.” Maybe it’s the calm way he just lingers there that allows your body to unfurl from its tense stance, shoulders drooping and spine less rigid as you ease back down in your seat. “I’ll make some tea when I’m done.”

He moves like smoke, inaudibly despite his massive physique but his presence is unmistakable. It forces the hairs on the back of your neck to raise at attention, encourages your heart-rate to rise and you struggle to decipher if the feeling that emerges is fear or attraction. “Stay out here as you are much longer and you’ll become a permanent fixture.”

Every move he makes is done with such intention, shadows slyly distracting you when playfully nudging at the edge of your paint palate. They steal your attention—forcing you to lurch forward to prevent the array of colors from falling—long enough for Azriel to conjure up a sweater, one soft and warm and distinctly his.

The action is done so naturally it robs you of words, eyes widening in surprise while confusion scrunches up your features. Your brain scrambles for a feasible explanation, subconsciously stretching your arms into the thick cashmere sleeves until you’re moving on autopilot and shoving it over your head.

A content smile ghosts overs the corner of his mouth. “I had a feeling you were good,” Azriel confesses softly, directing the conversation with too much ease and there’s no time to feel out of place when he’s nudging you aside, putting you exactly where he pleases to take in the painting in its entirety. “But, this is remarkable.”

Every inch of you screams to reject this, to pack up your supplies and scurry off in search for solitude because the longer Az’s stare lingers on the softly blended shades of rich dandelion and warm ochre; admiring the gentle shine from metallic golds, it feels like he’s reading straight from the most intimate pages of your journals. Flipping through private confessions, evaluating personal entries and reading them aloud to a crowd of observers for judgement.

Two fingers trail the line of your collarbone until the cool chill of metal can be felt against your fingertips, nails tracing the contours of the key dangling from your neck. The action is repeated once, twice, a third times before the anxiety of anyone going through your things finally disperses.

Arms cross over your chest, words distant and clipped in attempts to create space. It doesn’t help, cloaked in his clothes, the only thing your brain can seem to focus on is the fact that last time you and Azriel had been alone—he’d almost kissed you. “It’s incomplete.”

Azriel hums, a low sound; not agreeing or disagreeing but still acknowledging. “What do you do with them when they’re done then? Can’t imagine you’d be the type to hang them up.”

Music plays from within the city, delicate strings and soulful drums. Even from where you stand you can see the faes and faeries dancing idly along the cobblestone. They saunter out of cafés and shops, stumble out of bars and clubs. This moment in time forever frozen on canvas, your eyes flicker back and forth—so close and yet still something is missing. “I throw them away.”

“What? Why?”

A jerky shrug is your only reply, trying to see whatever he could within the brushstrokes but all you find are flaws. Lines where your hands had been shaky, shading that no longer matches as the muse constantly shifts.

“There must be a reason?” He prods. “No point in spending so much money on supplies just to toss what you make with them like trash.”

“Not sure why you care—it’s not your money being wasted.”

You expect something like irritation to grace Azriel’s features but all you can find is amusement. He doesn’t bristle at the thorns you prick him with, only chuckles at the blood you draw. Not deterred in the slightest by your bite, he continues to poke and prod at your restraint; all but scruffing you like an unruly cat until all the fight has been wrung out. “Suppose not, it’s just very telling.”

Eyes roll so hard you can feel the strain. “Don’t tell me we’re doing this again? I’m not particularly interested in another round of your evaluations.”

“It’s not my fault you’re so easy to read.”

“Sure,” you shrug, fingers digging into soft cashmere. “But, it’s definitely a you issue when it comes to being so fucking nosy.”

A beat of time passes. A scream sounding from within the city; this playful, jubilant noise that feels like a blade being sliced through your sternum. Cutting through bone and embedding itself in squishy soft tissues until iron eviscerates whatever’s left of your neglected heart.

“Is it really such a crime to care about you?”

Azriel watches every inch of you go still. Can see the exact moment your defenses go up—those walls you keep, growing taller and taller. It’s reinforcements suiting up and taking their post with weapons readied; waiting for the word to attack. “It is if I can’t figure out what you want in return.”

He sighs, breath shuddering from his lungs as though the answer physically pains him. “I just want you to be happy.” Bare palms wipe at the thighs of your dress, wet paint smearing against pale material but you don’t seem to mind in the slightest.

It’s not exactly concerning but Azriel finds it very telling, acknowledging your lack of concern for material items. No personal affects to hold you down. The way you wander around so detached from reality as if you were a ghost existing around mortals.

Cracks fissure along the brick wall of a barricade you’ve placed up. The foundations wavering. Gates crumbling under the pressure of his eyes boring into the side of your face as if he could see the destruction within. “They never really feel good enough to keep.”You finally confess, voice softer than Az had ever heard it before. “Like something about them is missing.”

He keeps staring at it, scanning and scanning the shapes formed in wet paint. One finger hovers over a spot near the corner, a small slice of the balcony from your point of view. A perfect replica of the iron railings, flourishing flora, even the quaint little seating arrangement. “You. It’s missing you.”