#not take away something that can otherwise help others.

[biting-miguel-ohara]

Fucking Cat - Logan Howlett x ftm!Reader

A/N: Okay, I’m a little worried that this isn’t what this request asked for, but I’m hoping it’s okay anyway. I just could not for the life of me figure out how to write penetrative smut about a kitty!Reader. If you (the anon requester) aren’t happy with it, that’s my bad 😬 My brain just doesn’t wanna make it work 😔

Also, the ending might come off a little weird. I really hope not, but you never know. I think it’ll fall in line with the rest of the playful cockiness the Reader has, but let me know if any part of it is weird or not good, please. Thanks

CW: cat hybrid!Reader; playful!Reader; language; cuddling; explicit sexual content; smut; teasing; grinding; this might be considered dubcon?; descriptive sex; blowjob with elements of a handjob; cum eating; taunting; no aftercare; playful ending

1075 words

He’s asleep. He’s asleep and you want him awake.

“Logan.” You poke his cheek. “Logan, wake up.”

You’re lying on his chest, elbows propped on his shoulders. And he’s dead asleep, snoring away like a bear during winter.

You poke his cheek again. Nothing.

Your tail flicks with annoyance. Your ears flattening against your head. You’ve been so patient. All day you’ve been patient. It’s been—you check the clock—two full hours of patience! That’s almost half the whole afternoon!

You smack his face. Not hard, but enough.

His eyes snap open, but you’re quicker than him. Your hands snap to his wrists, keeping his claws far away from your body. For a moment he just snarls. Then he recognizes you.

“Jesus Christ, you fucking cat! What’s the issue now?”

You grin, completely unbothered by his aggravation. “I’m bored.”

He groans and pushes you off him. You hiss softly, scrambling back upright. “Hey!”

He rolls onto his side, facing away from you. “Go bother Wade.”

“But I don’t wanna bother Wade.” You creep closer, your tail flicking behind you. “I wanna talk to… you!”

At the last word, you pounce on him. Kicking and worming your way into his arms. He growls, but doesn’t really protest.

You’ve just tucked yourself along his body when you feel something against your thigh. It takes you a moment, but then your eyes widen.

You consider your options. It’s Logan, so it’s probably just from his nap. On the other hand, he has mentioned how your feistiness gets him worked up. On the other other hand… you’re kinda in the mood for some fun.

So you squirm a little.

He lets out a low rumble, but doesn’t do much other than grip your hip a little.

You squirm a little more, making sure to shift down to rub your ass right against his hardened length.

This time he growls softly. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?” You ask, struggling to keep down a grin.

“You know what.”

This time, you press back against him, making sure the curve of your ass is snug against him. Providing the perfect position for him to grind against you.

His growl gets deeper, but you can feel the way his dick twitches. He’s into this and you know it.

“Stop that.”

You can’t hold back your grin anymore. You shift again, just enough to tease. “Stop this?”

His hips jerk a bit. He’s barely holding himself back. You can tell. His voice is a bit strained and you revel in the sound.

“Stop fucking doing that, you tricky little bastard!”

You laugh, unable to help yourself. With a wriggle of your tail and a tensing of your body, you roll over and pounce on him. Again.

This time, you work to roll him onto his back. He goes with a grumble and a growl, but not much protest otherwise.

You settle yourself between his legs, gently kneading your hands against his thighs. “Come on, Logan… I’m bored…! And this’ll give me something to do!”

He groans and rubs at his face, eyeing you. “You’re so needy. Fucking cat. Shoulda found a dog or something.”

You scoff, but know he doesn’t mean it. “Why? So it can slobber all over your shoes? Pfft, I’m way better than some dumb dog. Besides…” You trace your fingers along the bulge in his pants. “Would a dog know you as well as I do?”

You can see him suppress a shudder at your touch. Can see the way his dick twitches under your fingers. He’s putty in your hands now and you know it.

You hold eye contact as you strip him of his pants. As you slide his boxers down and free his blushing cock. Your mouth waters looking at it.

It’s always so easy to forget how thick he is. How large and delicious he looks. There’s a bead of precum at the tip, just barely hanging on.

You reach out, running your thumb over the head. Smearing the precum down along his shaft. Logan groans as you grip his dick, thrusting up into the tightness of your hand.

“No,” he rumbles. “A dog wouldn’t know me like you do.”

You grin. Lick your lips. And dip your head to lap at the head of his dick. Giving him teasing little kitten licks, tasting the precum drooling from his tip. The salty taste makes your tongue tingle.

Logan moans, body tensing like he’s holding back from just thrusting into your mouth. But that’s not what you have planned. You’re gonna make him cum, but you’re not gonna let him have the satisfaction of fucking your mouth.

Instead, you dip your head, mouthing along his shaft. Running your tongue up and down his length. He curses and grips the bed, snarling when you suck one of his balls into your mouth. You swirl your tongue around it, then do the same to the other.

“Fuck! I’m not gonna— Dammit, how do you always—“

You don’t let him finish his words. You’re back up, sucking on the tip of his dick, teasing it with your tongue. You bring your hands in again, gently but firmly gripping his shaft. Jerking and sucking him off, bit by bit.

He doesn’t last long. All too soon, he’s bucking his hips up with a snarled curse, spilling thick hot seed into your mouth and across your lips. You don’t mind, though. You love it when he comes quickly. It’s proof of your skills. Of his desperation for you.

You lick the cum from your lips, making sure to kiss his dick clean before pulling back. He’s panting, arm over his face. You crawl up next to him, smirking. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Shut up.” He uncovers his face and looks at you. “You’re a damn right menace, you know that?”

You preen, tail flicking happily in the air. “Yeah, I know.”

He chuckles softly and pulls you in to kiss your forehead. “Fucking cat. It’s my turn next.”

Your smirk only grows. “Your turn? To what? Suck me off? With my big dick and everything? Think you can handle that?”

He lets out a groan. “Little shit. You just love to rile me up, don’t you?”

But you see the smile flickering across his lips. He loves you and your comments. Just like you love him and his denial of it.

You’re the perfect match, somehow. And you wouldn’t want it any other way.

Logan Howlett Taglist: @yhlqmdlg @alekkkkssss

[gothsoyl]

One for you, the other one for her

Rio Vidal, Nickolas Scratch

Word count: 644

Summary: While Agatha is away, Rio has a chance to spend time with Nicki

Note: I wanted to write something quick and simple

Rio knows she shouldn't come. She knows that Agatha will be furious if she finds out about this, but she can't help himself. She can't bear the thought to stay away and watch her Nicky grow up from afar. It must be strange to have such feelings... she is death and soon she'll have to take the boy with her, breaking not only Agatha's heart, but also her own. She feels that his end is near – that's why she wants to see him alive.

“Did you miss me?”

Rio's voice is soft as she appears behind Nicki. As always, he is waiting for her mom, who decided to take the life of a few more witches – Rio often had an involuntary smile on her lips when she watched this scene.

The boy immediately raises his head, noticing Rio – she hesitates a little, studying his face before taking a couple of steps towards him and sitting down next to him. 

“Yes,” he nods and looks down again, running his fingers through the prickly grass beneath him, ”that’s sad you can't be here always.”

Rio barely noticeably frowns but remains silent, also lowering his gaze. She would like to see Nicki more often, see Agatha more often... but she knows she can't. 

“Why mom doesn’t want to talk about you?”

Rio seems to come out of a trance when she hears the boy's voice. She takes a slow breath and shrugs her shoulders.

“What makes you think like that?” Her voice is quiet and even, but she still doesn't look at Nicki. Her gaze is directed somewhere to the side – to where Agatha disappeared behind the tree posts a couple of minutes ago. Rio feels that death is near, feels the cold smell that the wind carries.

“When I say something about you, she changes the subject... and looks kind of angry,” Rio doesn't like hearing the sad tone in Nicki's voice, but there's nothing she can do about it. She understands that visiting the boy only makes it worse, but she can’t do otherwise.

“Once I couldn't give her what she wanted the most...” Rio's voice is quiet and thoughtful, memories from the lake immediately pop up in her head, with what bitterness Agatha begged her, swore that she would hate her and Rio knows that she’ll keep her promise. “I wanted to, but I couldn't.”

Nicki opens his mouth a little, as if he wants to ask something, but changes his mind. He just nods and also looks towards the forest. Rio guesses what he was interested in, but only feel relieved that she doesn't need to lie or talk nonsense just to make the boy happy.

They sit for a couple more minutes, talking quietly about something, and the warmth of pleasure passes through Rio's body when she manages to make Niski laugh at a not very funny joke, and in his eyes she notices reflections of Agatha. She used to laugh at Rio's jokes, too.

But a chill runs through her skin and she feels a surge of magic – Agatha dried up the witches... so quickly. She's getting faster and faster each time.

“Do you have to leave?” Rio swallows an unpleasant lump in her throat and raises her eyebrows slightly in surprise when she hears Nicki's voice. Did he notice how Rio tensed up, or did he also feel a surge of magic?

“I have to work,” she says softly, and before getting up, she snaps her fingers and hands the boy a flower, its pink petals blooming right in her hand, ”I'll see you soon, Nicki.”

The boy carefully takes the flower from her hands, as if afraid that one awkward movement and it will break. Rio leans closer to him, gently kissing the top of his head.

One kiss for her son.

The other one is for her beloved.

[dostoyevsky-official]

I'm aware of how swing states work. People across the entire WORLD are aware of how American swing states work, even though we shouldn't have to be, because your country has truly outsized power and we have to watch your elections like hawks.

It's not just about your individual vote, and relying on condescending "mY vOtE dIdn'T MATTER" bullshit is just a misdirection and you know it. It's about spouting & spreading shitty dangerous rhetoric and participating in the disenfranchisement of your own rights. Apathy and disengagement is what your right-wing populists WANT from your country's voters. You helped them spread that, and that's on you.

You really think you're going to do any better at direct action and community organizing if you're willing to hide behind the 'I'm just one person and my actions don't matter' line? That's all of activism, sorry. Being just one person who still gets up and takes action even if the odds are stacked.

My family is from a country that has had voting as an option taken away from them. You can be as condescending as you like, and it doesn't change the fact that the rest of the world is looking at Americans who threw away their votes with disgust.

you don't understand how american elections work and you don't understand what happened last night. you need to familiarize yourself with swing states. you need to learn what they teach in fifth grade here about the electoral college. if this is how you closely follow american elections, you were badly misled by someone.

i can show you any number of electoral maps, the vote distributions, the swings, the irrelevant stein voters in wisconsin, but none of this is getting through to people making this argument. it's a shame. there were 47,741 write-in votes in nyc, 1.85% of the vote. think about that number. these were not "disenfranchised voters" but rather people expressing their dissatisfaction through the ballot box.

i'm deeply flattered that you think my posts and follower count, which couldn't pack an opera house, had any effect, but they didn't (otherwise i'd take credit for NYC props2-5 failing, which passed). i don't think any posters on a moribund, embarrassing website had any effect. streamers like aiden ross did; joe rogan—why did kamala refuse to sit with him?—did. you and others are frustrated about the results, you're looking for an answer, you're angry, i get it. but this explanation, if taken seriously (protest voters in safe states cost the election), is one of the worst conclusions you can arrive at, somewhere in the ballpark of "Peanut's martyrdom swung the vote;" you're not even considering what the candidate said (or didn't) that caused people to protest vote. we are absolutely doomed if people run with this, and, mercifully, it's so stupid that it won't be taken up by the democratic party. they will more readily blame protest voters in michigan than those who voted like i did.

you need to realize it's apocalyptic if this is your key takeaway, and that your political insight into america is worthless if you stick by it. please channel your frustration into something more productive.

feel free to send me more votescolding asks, but i won't be answering any of them. this is my last word

[idorukiss]

Heres a sorta drabble/headcanon of sorts of how I picture MC's relationship with Rafayel would devleop~ I'm not much of a writer but the brainrot is real and im working on making similar ones for the other boys too!

1,051 words || You can also read it on ao3

‧͙⁺˚･༓･˚⁺‧͙⁺˚･༓･˚⁺‧͙⁺˚･༓･˚⁺‧͙⁺˚･༓･˚⁺‧͙⁺˚･༓･˚⁺‧͙ Xavier ・ Zayne ・ Sylus

There have been many different things in Rafayel's life that inspired him when it comes to his art, But nothing took control of his heart so intensely as much as you have. Like a whirlpool you shook him to his core from that first meeting, and all he wants to do is capture you on his canvas for eternity.

It really was quite the blessing with how willing you were to become his bodyguard- not only can he keep you within arms reach but you can also protect him from all the shady people after his life. Like killing 2 birds with one stone, except you were so much stronger and beautiful than any stone he’s ever set eyes on before

He absolutely felt like a flirt to you at the start with all of the compliments and casual physical touch between you guys, He just loved to say how amazing you are while enclosing you in a deep bear hug. It was strange at first you'd admit, but it never felt like he was trying to make any passes at you or act like he was expecting anything in return. Perhaps that's just how he acts with people he trusts?

When Rafayel isnt painting, you two spend a lot of time outside finding inspiration all around. He usually has a sketchbook with him scribbling away anytime he sees something interesting- the landscapes, pretty flowers, or even a parfait you guys got to share. You’ve seen some of these sketches as he works on them, it always amazes you how much detail he can capture with so few lines.

He never let you fully flip through the sketchbook however, claiming all sorts of reasons why, like that the drawings were scared of the sunlight or you had to go through many trials to be worthy. It was obvious how much he cherished it and you respected his wishes, though it would be nice to reminisce on some of the good times you guys had together again. Though its not like your phone wasn't filled to the brim with photos already

Late one night, you stop by his place to make sure he didn't need any motivation to finish a painting for a deadline set the next morning. You have confidence he could make it in time, he always did, but you want to help him as best as you can otherwise. When you arrive you spot a stunning completed painting and a Rafayel sleeping on the sofa below it- both stunning as they're illuminated by the moonlight.

Taking it upon yourself to clean up his supplies a little, just enough to not be a walking hazard of course, you spot his precious travel sketchbook on the floor. Surely he wouldn't mind if you took a little peak in it, you'd love to see how he finished the last landscape you guys saw before he locked himself up to work. As you flip through the pages you see so many familiar sights from your time together so far, but scattered around them filling maybe even more pages was many drawings of a person. Of you. All surrounded by hearts and little notes about things you've said.

When did he have a chance to draw all of these? Is this how you look to him?? Questions race your mind as your face flushes at the image of him intensely scribbling in the sketchbook as you dance around the beach being dumb. You decide to grab a pencil and add your attempt of a sketch of him in the back, signing it with a little heart of your own. It’s nowhere near his skill level but something that captures how you feel, and maybe he would get a chuckle out of it once he spots it.

You don’t realize when the casual acts of affection he started out with turn slightly more romantic- going from linking arms together to holding your hand, and you swear you feel him press little kisses on the top of your head every time he wraps his arms around you. But you don't hate it, in fact it makes your heart flutter every time you realize it

Rafayel often messages you at the most random times to meet him somewhere, usually it was because he found a stunning view and wanted to share the experience with you. Sometimes he would even show up at your apartment to whisk you away, and every time it filled you with joy. These dates and every moment you get to spend with him fill your heart with so much warmth.

One particularly warm night you were woken up by a call inviting you to the beach near his studio. It was worth crawling out of the bed at an ungodly hour, not only for the view but for him. While you were admiring the waves, he couldn't keep his eyes off you as a cautious pinky is hooked around yours. Two faces flush as you look at him, it lasts for only a moment before its interrupted by your watch.

Your face falls as you read the notification “It looks like I got a last minute mission in the morning…I guess this means I have to head back already.” As you take a heavy step to start walking away he reaches out to stop you with a pleading look on his face “Wait, don’t go yet” “Rafayel…. I’m sorry, I really am. This night- everything was wonderful, it really was” “Can’t you just stay the night?” He wraps his arms around you, nuzzling his face into your neck “Please just stay the night, I don’t want you to leave.” Your heart flutters as you wrap your arms around him in return “Okay, I’ll stay for you my sweet painter”

He is the most clingy man you’ve ever met, constantly torn between wrapping himself around you while peppering every inch of skin with kisses and diving headfirst into hundreds of paintings with you as his muse. His studio would be covered in nothing but paintings of you if he didn't have to focus on his commissions.

He sculpted out a place in your heart that held him, and in turn you've devoted yourself to him- loving him with every fiber of your being

[bruhhxiao]

Leon S. Kennedy re2 would spend hours watching you playing with the rescued kids to cheer them up. How patient you were.

Helping them with the food, avoiding fights for toys, when they cried for their lost ones…

Sure you two were more than co-workers, more than close friends. You made him find love, but what brought something back to life in him was when he saw you cuddling that baby to make him eat while distracting him.

“Babababa”

Was that toothless smile that gave him the courage to sit next to you and forget all the pain he went through.

There is now Leon S. Kennedy re4 coming home for you two.

He never expected to come home and announce him the news of you being pregnant.

He spent mostly of his free days watching video or reading book about pregnancy and how to take care of a child… since he had a pretty hard childhood.

He has double monitor. One on your side on the other on his. “what is going to happen if you’re in a deep sleep and I’m too far for the one on your side..” he tried to justify himself like the fact that he has cameras connected to the baby “zone” when he’s on mission, everywhere

But there was absolutely one thing, one damn thing that made his heart melt..

The baby, a perfect mix of you two, could never do something if she/he hasn’t both of his parents close. But you got lucky because when Leon is on mission the child is cooperative.

Just imagine falling asleep on you lap as she/he holds Leon’s hands while you watch tv.

just imagine bathing you three together surrounded by toys.

Just imagine playing together on the rug in front of the tv and if you fall asleep well… you’ll wake up to someone biting you.

And only god knows how he feels when he comes back from the store or from outside in general and hears you teaching the baby how to say ‘papa’ while he’s hiding behind the wall holding his chest.

But there are times when mothers give to educate their children. Like that time when Leon bought a toy that wasn’t the baby liking so she/he smashed it to the floor screaming, here you come while Leon was clam because he knew how children can be sometimes.

“You shouldn’t throw what is gifted to you. After what happened there are kids with no papa that can’t afford a toy.” You say calmly taking the toy away to another room.

The child otherwise was pretty smart for his age to understand that you were disappointed by his behavior, but he was still a child so of course he would have ended up crying holding onto Leon pointing towards the room you walked into calling his mama.

Once Leon stepped behind, you felt two tinny hands grabbing to your neck. You take him but of course he has to hold his papa close as well making Leon chuckle for her/his cute habit.

But what was the cutest was when the little one couldn’t bare his/her nursery and so they would whine till you take him/her to the big bed surrounded by his/her mama and papa arms. <3

[locomoqo]

Please could we get the fluff prompt of buttoning their jacket for gun please☺️

જ⁀➴ GUN PARK (prompt: zipping or buttoning their jacket for them)

જ⁀➴ prompt list here!

The wind whipped through the street, biting at your skin as you both walked side by side. Gun, as usual, didn’t seem to care much for the cold. He was dressed in his usual sharp attire, but you couldn’t help but notice that his coat was hanging slightly open, as if he didn’t even bother to button it up properly before heading out.

You sighed, shaking your head. “You’re going to catch a cold.”

He barely glanced your way, brushing it off like it wasn’t even a concern. “I’m fine.”

“Wait,” you say, stopping him mid-step. He raises an eyebrow, curiosity flashing in his eyes as he watches you move closer. You buttoned up his coat, making sure each button was placed right.

Gun stood there, silent, watching you with that same unreadable expression he always wore. But there was something different in his gaze this time—something softer, almost curious, like he was trying to figure out why you cared so much.

When you finished, you gave the lapels a quick pat for good measure, your fingers brushing against the smooth material. “There,” you said, looking up at him with a satisfied smile. “All set.”

“Hm,” is all he says, a sound that could mean anything, but the way he doesn’t step back right away—letting you linger just a moment longer—tells you he appreciates it, even if he won’t admit it. “Thanks,” he finally mutters, voice low, as he looks down at you, his eyes lingering on your face. 

You just smile up at him, satisfied to see a hint of softness in his usually stoic features. “It’s no big deal,” you say with a shrug, but the way he watches you, as if you’ve done something far more important than buttoning up his jacket, makes you feel like maybe it was a big deal—at least to him.

and now the other way around!

Gun stood beside you as you fumbled with the buttons on your coat, your fingers a little clumsy in the cold. He watched you quietly, and you couldn’t help but remember the first time you’d done this for him—a moment of unexpected closeness when you buttoned up his jacket.

Now, without a word, he steps closer, his gaze softening in that subtle way only you could notice. “You’re taking too long,” he mutters, but there’s no bite to his words. Before you can react, his hands are already at your collar, his fingers deftly start fastening the buttons, one by one.

His movements are precise and careful, his face so close to yours that you can see the rare warmth in his usually sharp eyes. There’s a sense of familiarity in the way he buttons up your coat, almost like he’s mirroring the moment when you had done the same for him not too long ago. You bite back a smile, feeling a soft warmth spread through you despite the cold.

“You could’ve asked,” you tease, your breath visible in the chilly air. He raises a brow but doesn’t respond, his focus entirely on getting each button just right. When he finishes, his hands linger for a second longer than necessary, brushing against the fabric before he finally pulls back.

“It was crooked,” he says gruffly, as if that’s the only reason he bothered. You can tell he’s trying to downplay the gesture, but the way he adjusts the collar of your coat one last time, making sure you're properly bundled up, tells you otherwise.

“Thanks, mr. perfectionist,” you reply softly, your tone teasing but warm. He huffs, rolling his eyes, but you catch the slight upturn of his lips—a barely-there smile that’s for your eyes only.

a/n: tbh my stupid ass just didnt understand the ask so i did it from both perspectives #worksmartnothard

[anim-ttrpgs]

A big part of Eureka is splitting the party. Normally games are loathe to do this because of the potential to bore players while they passively watch others play the game. I'm curious how you deal with this when you run Eureka. Sending players away seems like it could make it either better or worse. Like if it's at a home, people can go hang out by the snack table and drink and chat, but that doesn't work as well at, say, a game store. I'm curious how people felt about having to leave the game several times.

While the risk of boring the players or putting too much stress on the GM is a real concern, the addage of "don't split the party" actually originated in the TSR D&D era, where splitting the party made them weak and vulnerable to all sorts of situations that would be less of a problem for a full strength party, However, for a game like Eureka that produces more conventional narratives (everyone take note that I did not say that Eureka produces more narrative or is "more focused on narrative", just more conventional narratives) and has more of a focus on intrigue and horror, the party splitting up to cover more ground and collect more clues in the limited time they have to solve the mystery, but also making each one of them more vulnerable if something happens, is an actual trade-off that can improve the gameplay and story.

First of all, besides it just being really entertaining, I really recommend you listen to the Tiny Table Actual Play of Eureka. It has some really good examples of splitting the party and sending players away that are executed really well, and also some good discussion of it in the post-mortem episode and the interview.

I’m going to answer the ask directly from my own gameplay experience, but I really really urge anyone who has played Eureka to comment with their own experiences with splitting the party and sending players away.

Alright, so, obviously how long players are willing to wait their turn is group-dependent, but with our own group, we’ve actually kinda had the opposite problem from players getting bored. Instead, Narrator and the players whose characters are currently in the spotlight start to worry that they’re selfishly hogging too much session time, and try to rush the scene along (to its great detriment), when in reality the players who were sitting out were happy to keep waiting. Realizing this led to us altering the advice regarding splitting the party in the rulebook, and actually recommending the Narrator go a little longer before switching to the other characters.

I personally am happy to wait up to like 90 minutes if my character is out of the scene, because I have faith in my group and also in Eureka that the payoff for waiting will be that much greater, seeing the characters relay what they have learned while they were apart in dialogue rather than the player just saying “My investigator tells them everything that happened.” It really heightens the tension, lets the characters shine, and can even really help with solving the mystery, because having the events and evidence recounted out loud can help with making connections that might have gone over people’s heads the first time.

Of course like the rulebook says, it also comes to the judgement of the play group as a whole, and should definitely be discussed beforehand basically as part of session zero, and even mid-session if it needs to be. (Communicate your preferences to your play group!!!!!) There’s plenty of scenes and situations where having the other players leave the room instead of sitting and watching would add nothing at all to the experience.

Now I want to hear other people’s opinions. If you have played Eureka and had a party split where some players left the room or otherwise excused themselves, how did it go?

[willsimpforanyone]

Hello! I'm not sure if you are taking requests right now, but I'd you are could you do something with a daughter of medusa who us almost or fully blind and everyone avoids her except for percy who has a crush on her? Can end however ypu would like :).

And remember to take of yourself and drink water!!! ❤️

thank u my lovely <3 hope u enjoy

i do have bad vision but i am not blind, so i apologise for inaccuracies,

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

medusa was blessed with a daughter

gorgeously thick, curly hair, strong as hell, brought up by your mother as best she could

she was so happy when you opened your eyes as a baby and no one you looked at turned to stone

her curse was not yours!

it only took a moment for her to realise her curse had a different effect on you

you were not cursed, but as a side effect of being medusa's child, you were almost completely blind

growing up, you never realised there was anything too different about you

why would you? your mother raised you and she kept her eyes covered most of the time, she knew how to live as a blind woman in a seeing world

things got worse as you got older, and around 10 years old is when it got really bad

the monsters were relentless, and even medusa hiding you away didn't seem to help with the nightmares

so, when you were 12, she brought you to the camp

chiron was hesitant, but knew you meant no harm - you were a scared, lonely kid, like so many others before you

kinda for the first time, you were interacting with people who could see

it wasn't hard to guess who your mother was, and apparently that was enough for the other kids to reject you immediately

you learned to wear sunglasses or some kind of fabric over your eyes, otherwise some kid would start screaming

the first couple years of teenhood were rough

of course. you learned to live with it

you learned to become incredibly spacially aware, to be able to walk into a room and know exactly how many people there were and where they were standing

there were some kids who were alright, some from the athena cabin were civil despite their mom being the one who cursed yours

occasionally, though, there was a kid called percy

a son of posiden, who you were suitably wary enough of (again, considering the story)

he came to camp a little before you did, and was off on a quest when you actually arrived

it was an odd introduction

"hi, i'm percy, i kinda killed your mom"

you had shrugged, fingers still trailing over the book in front of you

"i know. she sent me an iris message from the underworld. it's not the first time someone's killed her, she'll be back in a few days"

the silence that followed was one of awkward expectation, and you snorted a laugh. "dude, chill out, i don't care anymore"

he'd hesitantly accepted your acceptance and had left, and you'd thought that would be the end of it

to your surprise, he would come back and talk

a friendship blossomed over the next couple years, something that was new to you

you genuinely liked him

he didn't ask questions about being blind all the time, he didn't scream when your sunglasses slipped down your nose, he seemed to automatically let you know what he was doing and where he was in your space

with him came grover, the somewhat nervous satyr who calmed down once annabeth, percy's other friend, slapped the back of his head when he asked if your hair was just a bunch very thin snakes

this was more friends than you'd had in your life, and it was kind of incredible

annabeth got some books in greek braille, and together you discovered that it was easier for you to read - the ancient greek hardwire was still very much present in your brain, even if you couldn't see the letters

percy, however, went the extra mile every time

every activity you were hesitant about, he was right there with you, describing the new areas, offering to help but never touching you or giving advice unless you asked first

any time something changed with the camp, whether it was a part of the forest or the layout of the camp itself, he'd go with you to explore the differences to change the mental map you had in your head

late nights were reserved for sitting together around a campfire, maybe with grover and annabeth, maybe not

but they were a time for you to ask questions instead

what colour were the new swords? what does bronze look like? is the red of the strawberries as sweet as they taste?

he would answer as best he can, trying to explain from every angle, like trying not to use other colours to explain another colour

one night, in your fourth year of camp, you got up the courage to ask him the question you'd been wanting to ask him forever

"percy? what do i look like?"

there was a pause, and you knew he had turned to look at you by the rustling of his hair

...a minute passes, and you shift in your seat

"you don't have to tell me, it's fine, forget i asked-"

"no!"

he interrupts you, blurting out a protest a little louder than he intended

he continues, clearing his throat

"no, i just- would it be okay if you took your sunglasses off? so i can give you the best description?"

in answer, you slipped off your sunglasses, hanging them in the neck of your t-shirt

all you could see was a faint warm, orange-yellow glow from the fire

percy takes a breath

"okay, here goes- you're beautiful. i-i know that isn't much but... you look warm. like the feeling of coming back to our cabin at the end of a really good day, tired but happy, and everything is quiet and calm and cosy and you know you're gonna sleep so good. you look like sunsets over the sea, like someone has managed to set the horizon on fire but, y'know. less dangerous than setting fire to things."

you laugh, subconsciously leaning against his shoulder with your heart trying to keep pace with the butterflies in your stomach

"yeah? i look warm?"

his voice is almost a whisper

"right now, yeah. the firelight is reaching out over the grass to touch you, preferring to have you warm than the trees around us. if we were regular teenagers, we could be telling scary stories"

i rest my hand, palm up, on his knee, a silent way of telling him to give me his hand

he does so, and i link our fingers together tightly, a 'thank you' that we don't need to hear

"percy?"

"yeah?"

"what do you look like right now?"

another pause, and he squeezes my fingers gently

"i think... right now, i look like i'm completely in love with you"

my head lifts from his shoulder, head turned to him as if i need to hear him better, like we aren't side to side, holding hands

"you... what?"

he breathes a shaky laugh, and i feel his hand move to pause just over my cheek

"sorry, that wasn't a great description, but i couldn't think of anything else to say. can i put my hand on your cheek?"

slowly, i nod, feeling his warm palm settle against my skin, his thumb brushing over my cheek

"please say no if you don't want me to," he whispers, voice nervous but also filled with hope

"but can i please kiss you?"

i don't need to be able to see to know how big he smiles when i say "yes"

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

i hope that was okay? i tried my best, if anyone has an issue with it or wants me to correct something, let me know!

[sentinelq]

Making him admit he likes it

Satisfying the urges he's too ashamed to admit can be done in many ways... To walk up to him with bondage straps, grab him by the chin... "get up, I want to try something" and walk him to a sturdy chair, where he's to sit down, but not before he put his hands up.

You undress him, making sure to throughly tickle him in the meantime, any giggles leading to you handling him even more erotically aggressively towards your warm body.

They know you want to tickle them, and they want to be tickled. They just didn't expect you to be this aggressively dominant about it. His hand are tied behind his back, his ankles are tied to the back legs of the chair, soles facing upwards.

He's embarassed, you can tell. You ask, no, *tell* him "as if you don't like this...?" Not used to being indulged like this, his face is red. "Alright, keep your 'secrets' for as long as you can, babyboy". Your caress his chin, your hand trailing downwards along his neck, his clavicle, his nipples that you play with a little... A snort? Interesting. His ribs, lightly piano'd and reacted to by tightening and keeping his squeak muffled.

You kneel before him, his cock right in front of you. Avoiding your gaze, you see him biting his lips as you take the edge of his cock between your lips. He's getting a little excited, but you hold him there, without doing anything further, until he's used to this situation and "settles down". You don't want him getting harder because of your mouth.

As soon as the 'excitement' leaves him, you start tickling his soles, upturned and defenceless. He breaks into laughter and tries to move, but he can't, your fingers are forcing all sorts of squeaks and squeals. And more, as the unmistakeable feeling of pressure swells between your lips. You giggle as he starts to get hard, letting him know how funny you find this, and start to dig between his toes. All this movement, the friction of your lips, the fingers on his feet lead to the unavoidable. He's getting rock hard, as you take him in your wet, warm mouth. You move, back and forward, for a little bit. Tongue him, a little bit, before...

Getting your lips off of him, with a loud 'pop', you give him a knowing look as one hand lazily keeps tracing his sole. "So, now that we have *that* established, how about you admit it?" If he could disappear off the face of the earth at that moment, he'd have done it. "Alright, guess I'll have to be rougher then".

Your fingers converge on his inner thighs, wiggling everywhere they can find sensitive skin. He immediately squeals in unreserved laughter, his begging words only half-formed before another round of wiggling takes his breath away. Simultaneously, you rest your head besides his thigh, softly licking his cock whenever his manic thrashing swings it your way. But that's not fun, so better methods are devised.

Resting it inside your elbow and trapping it there with your lips while one hand tickles his belly and the other his inner thighs. "I'm sorry, I can't understand you" is all he hears , as you spider-tickle his thighs while edging his cock with light licks and soft sucking, trapped helpless as it is. A mix of moaning cut into laughter then further cut into more moaning and more laughter is heard, octaves being raised and lowered all throughout... until he screams "OKAY, I LOVE IT, PLEASE, I LOVE IT, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE".

"I know you do, otherwise you wouldn't have been so obedient. Good boy, it's time for your reward." You trap his sensitive little pleasure bundle of nerves between the meaty base of your thumbs, leaving it immobile, restrained, and most important, your fingers free. You start to suck him off, lickling him as much as you can. "Who's a good boy? Who's a gooood boyyy, let's help tickle this cum out of you" while your devilish fingers tickle the base of his helpless cock in a 'come hither' motion.

The poor boy couldn't take it any longer. Feeling it coming, you pressed on his glans as he half-way cums in your mouth, giving him a partial orgasm that left him still capable, just so you can tickle and suck the life out of him faster and faster until he truly explodes in your mouth, spent, a satisfied grin on your face as you stare right at his exhausted eyes.

You untie him, and after kissing him on the forehead, whisper "we could do this everyday..."

[engagemythrusters]

evidently controversial take: i don't mind if people get botox. yes, even if it's to alter their face to fit some beauty standard. why? cause if botox is easy to get, that means that I, a disabled person whose quality of life could be drastically improved by botox, won't have to jump through the hoops i jump through on a regular basis to get help i need.

[blindedguilt]

//Was thinking about posting this on my alt, but since I figure I've spoken about this frequently enough on this blog and it's THE dedicated Leonard Space™️... //I'm throwing up and crying thinking about how leonard had never gotten to experience romantic or sexual attraction (or will ever GET to experience those things, unrequited or not) without complete dread and self-blame and guilt and how that must have been growing up with the hope and expectations of "Being in love must be so nice, I hope I'll be able feel that one day" and not ONLY having that hope gradually dwindle as he grew into the "expected marriageable age" watching those around him go on with their lives and attain those things in a way that seems so natural but is so foreign to him and the absolute sadness of the point the notion of "attraction" and "falling in love" turned to complete and abject horror and disgust when he realises that this is what his mind has decided is "Normal" for him, and all possibilities and aspirations he may have had of a child, teen, young adult, etc. up to that point of even the bare minimum is now a complete impossibility. //how it fully sets in he'll never experience love. never find his own family or someone to be interested in and care about in such a way or even feel attraction without that weight attached.... like idc, actual relationships are one thing but if ANYTHING you should at least be able to know the joy of falling in love if even for a SECOND without any strings (Disgust, guilt, self-hate, etc.) attached!!!! guys!!!!!!! //HE'S WAY TOO KIND AND GENTLE AND HANDSOME AND CARING AND HUMBLE AND A GENTLEMAN AND HANDSOME AND HIS VOICE IS WAY TOO SEXY FOR THIS SHIT, HE DOESN'T DESERVE THIS!!!!! LET HIM LOVE!!!!!!! HE'S SHOWN TO HAVE SO MUCH TO GIVE IN SO MANY DIFFERENT WAYS (Parental, familial, just being an empathetic person towards his "enemies" in general) AND YET HE DIES HAVING NEVER KNOWN IT...... WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO HIM........... ouuugughhh.........

[tardis--dreams]

Gotta talk to the department boss tomorrow because i asked for opportunities to increase my work hours. I regret it already but i can't back out now so this is gonna be fun (:

[shotmrmiller]

ghost getting himself a cute, soft girl he doesn't talk about much but is clearly obsessed with and price just thinks it's nice he's finally settled down, approves of the home he's made for himself, definitely approves of the one he's taken for himself.

soap asks kyle if he's seen you and he says, "yep. lovely bird he's got tucked away in her little dollhouse. makes great food, too." soap swears there's a subtle shift in his tone when he says "lovely", a hint of something deeper that flickers in his eyes for just a moment. soap simply sucks on his teeth, letting it slide. (although he knows that kyle's always been one to appreciate the good things in life.)

interest gnaws at him, a persistent itch he can't scratch. price likes you just fine, as does kyle. well what about him? he decides to bite the bullet and goes to simon with a knot between his brows, the corners of his lips tugged downwards. they've shared clothes, bullets, beds. if the other two got to meet you, why can't he?

"ya can come over for dinner on tonight. she'd 'ave my neck if she didn't formally meet ya anyway."

soap then asks, out of genuine curiosity more than anything else, if simon would have kept you in the dark from him hadn't he brought you up himself.

"ya meet 'er when i want ya to, boy, and not a moment before." the tone he takes is unmistakeable. his words are a command, not a suggestion, and soap instantly knows to not push further.

soap nods. "ah'll be there."

"course ya will. she'd be terribly disappointed otherwise."

yeah, he'd hate to have that.

soap sits in the living room, the soft glow of the lamp casting a warm light over the cozy place. with a full stomach and an unfastened belt, nursing a glass of kentucky. he can't remember the last time he ate that well or that much.

maybe it's the alcohol that loosens his tongue, or the fact that he wishes he also had a sweet little thing to keep at his side just like simon's doing with you now, but the thoughts he's been mulling over all evening since he first saw you tumble out of his mouth.

"while ah can attest to yer taste in sweethearts, can't say much about your alcohol. bourbon, LT?" he says, chest warm.

simon's arm tightens around your hips, fingers splayed possessively over your thigh. he shrugs, completely unbothered by the backhanded compliment. "can't be perfect in everythin', can we, sergeant?"

soap's cheeks burn furiously hot when you come to his defense with a smack of your palm onto simon's chest. "be nice to johnny. he's got a face that make up for some of his other flaws."

the teasing lilt in your voice unashamedly gets his southern blood pumping. he can't help it if certain things stir when someone as pretty as you look at him like that. soap swirls the amber liquid gently in the glass while keeping his limpid eyes on you, not even trying to hide the fact that his gaze hasn't wavered since your cheeky little comment.

you then whisper something in simon's ear, your cupped hand not even half the size of his head and soap has to rearrange himself from the outside when your teeth catch your bottom lip. simon looks up at you then, eyes heavy and half lidded, and a smirk plays at the corners of his mouth.

"'m not sure, love. you'll just 'ave to ask 'im yourself. go on."

you open that sweet mouth of yours, but simon cuts you off with a decisive wave of his hand. "no. you know how to ask for things."

your reaction to that is visceral, and you're on your knees faster than his alcohol-muddled brain can comprehend. don't look down 'er shirt, don't look down 'er shirt, don't-

"johnny, will you touch my pussy?"

he splutters at your question, completely taken aback, but it seems you're not done just yet.

"hands to yourself, sergeant. tha' not all."

you pout at simon, one that earns you a look that promises consequence, but do as he says.

"will you touch my pussy, johnny? pretty please?"

[selvepnea]

Feeling. Weird...

[trianglegoddess]

I'm Still Standing

The League felt like they had a strong sense of Phantom’s power. After all, they wouldn’t have asked him to join the team, otherwise. He’s strong, he can fly, and due to his supernatural nature, he’s amazing on recon and stealth missions. He’s also incredibly reliable, and smarter than most people give him credit for. He’s a natural hero, a more snarky Captain Marvel, some news outlets have been saying. Always saving people with just the right words to say, with a humble smile on his face. 

Phantom, with all of his power, seemed untouchable in every definition of the word. 

And then they got invaded by Darkseid. 

It wasn’t the first time Darkseid had invaded Earth, but it was the first time bringing armies so large, the first time he’s attacked all over the world to spread the League thin. It is single handedly the worst alien invasion Earth has ever had. 

Batman, bleeding out on the sidewalk, Wonder Woman knocked unconscious and restrained by a nearly egregious amount of henchmen, Superman, weak from the kryptonite Darkseid had shot him with. Thankfully it had missed all the important bits, but with that bullet inside of him, Superman was also down for the count, as well as dozens of other League members. 

If it hadn’t been for Phantom, they would have lost. 

Phantom, who’s never been seen without a smile on his face until now. Phantom, who’s never had so much as a scratch on him, until now. Phantom, who has only ever been known to be kind and compassionate, even to his villains, until now. 

Usually there’s this sort of warm, comforting feeling that radiates from Phantom. It feels like a nice breeze on a warm summer’s day, a nice cup of hot cocoa, your favorite song. It’s a feeling of safety, as if everything will be alright just because he’s there. 

Here, though, something else, something much stronger, is radiating from him. It practically rolls off of him in huge waves, making those conscious around him more aggravated, more on edge.

Phantom pulls himself off of the ground. His suit is torn, and his green blood splattered on himself and the ground. He spits a glob of it out, along with a tooth. 

“Still, you stand,” Darkseid says, as if tired. “Do you not tire in the face of your own demise?”

“As long as I’m still standing, you won’t ever win,” Phantom says. His voice is low and threatening, reverberating eerily off of the broken infrastructure that surrounds them. It sends a chill down everybody’s spines, though if Darkseid is affected, he doesn’t show it. 

“Your comrades have fallen, your militaries have failed, and you have no other help arriving. Pray tell how one singular human will be able to take me down!” 

Phantom doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he walks forward so that his friends are behind him, and braces himself. Darkseid, unable to contain his own hubris, lets Phantom come closer. 

Phantom takes in a deep breath, as if he’s about to speak.  

Instead he wails. 

Any remaining glass shatters, raining down upon them as green sound waves push back the offending forces. 

And it’s loud, of course. The ears of Darkseid’s minions are bleeding, and many of them are either dying because it’s too much for them to bear, or they’re killing themselves to give themselves some modicum of relief. But it’s also more than that, more than noise. 

It’s mourning. 

The first feeling that overwhelms everyone is anger. Phantom’s anger at Darkseid, at the destruction, at the fact that he just can’t catch a fucking break and it’s not fair. The second, is the sadness. It weighs down upon their shoulders, suffocating them like smog. It invades every part of their being-their lungs, their joints, their very hearts-and it presses and presses and presses until there’s very nearly nothing left. 

Phantom still pushes on. He is nothing if not persistent, driven to fight, driven to protect his people, his team, his friends, his family. No mortal being could ever hope to have a lung capacity like this, but Phantom is no normal mortal, and Darkseid is finally starting to come to terms with that. 

The last wave of overwhelming emotion is more of an idea than it is an actual feeling. It’s not a threat, per se, but a promise. A promise to do everything in his power to destroy Darkseid and his forces permanently and with prejudice. A promise that no matter how hard Darkseid fights, he will not win. 

A promise that, if knocked down, Phantom will stand back up, and he will not lose. 

Eventually, after what feels like eternity, the wail dies down. There isn’t a single member of Darkseid’s army that’s still on their feet or in the air. Phantom collapses down to one knee, and bright, white rings flicker around his person for just a moment, before he wills them away and stands back up. 

It’s less walking towards Darkseid, and more stalking. They are not on equal footing. Phantom is the predator in every sense of the word, his anger and grief still radiating off of his body in ways that Darkseid is unable to comprehend. 

“Do you yield?” Phantom asks. His eyes are blazing green, burning into Darkseid’s very soul. It is a sort of animalistic, primal instinct deep within him that tells him, run, run as fast as you can. Darkseid’s hubris, however, remains unmatched. 

Even as he stares Death in the eye. 

“I do not,” Darkseid says. He tries to get to his feet, but his body won’t listen, still weighed down by the effects of Phantom’s wail. 

“Then as Phantom, King of the Dead, I hereby condemn you for the rest of your afterlife.”

“Don’t count your eggs yet, boy,” Darkseid spits. “I’m still alive.”

“No,” Phantom says, in a tone adjacent to someone who’s giving their condolences, “You’re not.”

Phantom gestures beside them, and Darkseid spares a glance and sees…Himself. 

His corpse is splayed on the ground, blood spurting out of his ears, nose, and eyes. He stares lifelessly up at the sky. The blood is still leaking down the sides of his face. 

“You’re dead now, Darkseid, and therefore under my jurisdiction. Due to your extensive list of crimes you will not receive a hearing, just your eternal damnation for the sins you’ve committed.”

Phantom waves his hand, and green chains and manacles appear on Darkseid’s wrists and ankles before he’s dusted out of existence, sent to his eternal punishment in another dimension. 

As soon as he’s gone, Phantom collapses to his knees. 

He’s not sure how long he’s there, sitting in the blood of those he’s killed, before Wonder Woman comes over. She’s covered in gashes and bruises and blood that isn’t hers, but she still stands tall and proud. A battle won is a reason for celebration, after all. 

He glances behind her, sees Superman taking Batman into his arms and flying off. 

Diana doesn’t ask him questions about how he’s feeling. A victory is a victory, sure, but not without its price. 

Instead, she holds out her hand. Danny grasps it, and allows her to help him to his feet. 

“As long as you can stand, you can win,” Diana says. “I think I’ll have to use that for my next big speech.”

“By all means,” Phantom tells her. “Just be sure to credit me.”

“Deal.”

[saudadeko]

ADHD tips from a girlie who was diagnosed in her late twenties and has had little to no support since and is being so brave about it:

1) Make it easy, make it accessible, and make it appealing. If anything this is the most important thing, all tips going forward are based around this concept.

2) That thing you think would help you but you haven’t bought/done it yet because you’re technically surviving without it? Buy it, you need it. It doesn’t matter if people around you might think it’s wasteful or that you’re lazy, you’re not, just do it, trust me.

3) Expanding on tip #2, if you’re like me and eggs are your main source of protein because they’re quick and easy and feeding yourself is a near insurmountable task- buy yourself an electric egg cooker, make a bunch of hard boiled eggs and keep them in your fridge for quick and easy protein to add to any meal (handful of crackers, a hard boiled egg and a banana? 5 star meal right there. Or mash them up with some mayo for egg salad sandwiches). Other easy proteins include: potstickers (put them in instant ramen), edamame (they have microwaveable snack packs), chickpeas (put in salads!), beans (can of beans microwaved with shredded cheese and some tortilla chips), peanut butter (with crackers, apple and cheese, adult lunchable style), and tofu (cut into cubes, throw them into a ziplock with some seasoning and potato starch, shake that shit up and bake it until crispy).

4) Spend a little extra (if you are able) on daily use items that excite you, it will make you more likely to remember/want to do said daily task. For example: the only reason I remember to use sunscreen is because I bought some fancy japanese sunscreen that smells like roses so I get excited to use it, same for laundry detergent and body wash! there’s a gajillion different body wash scents out there, switch it up!

5) If there’s a task you continuously struggle with take a moment to think about which part of the task is making it difficult, it could be something even as small as “I don’t put my dirty clothes in the hamper because my hamper has a lid on it and lifting the lid is one step too many-”, sounds a little stupid huh? But trust your gut, it’s not stupid if it works. See tip #2 and BUY A HAMPER WITHOUT A LID.

6) If you are having trouble starting a task, break the task down further, sometimes the way I start a task is just by going “Ok step 1) stand up-“ and so forth. Don’t worry about the task as a whole just take it one step at a time.

7) If you’re halfway through a task and have to stop, leave it out. All this, “Put things away when you’re done with them.” is bullshit. you will be much more likely to finish the task if restarting it is easier because you left it out plus it’s a visual reminder. You can also create faux deadlines like “I gotta finish this project before my friend comes over on tuesday because after I finish it I can clean off the dinner table.” etc.

8) It’s okay to outsource tasks and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, humans are designed to ask for, and to require help (what do babies do when they’re first born?? cry for help!!) ask for help and receive help without shame, if it makes your life better, you are WINNING.

9) If you have one big overwhelming task that you think you need to get done before anything else, but you feel motivated to do other tasks, do those other tasks first, it’s okay. Otherwise in all likelihood (at least in my case) you’ll put everything off until the last minute and then have to do said overwhelming task and those other tasks won’t get done at all. Doing those smaller tasks also lowers the mental load and you can use them as a motivation launch pad to tackle bigger things.

10) If you notice you tend to not put something away/forget to do something, perhaps consider moving and storing the item closer to where it ultimately ends up or where you are more likely to see it. For example, my makeup, pills, and mail are all stored on my desk because that’s where I tend to do my makeup, take my pills and deal with my mail. I used to store my pills in my bathroom medicine cabinet but all too often I would forget because they weren’t in my line of sight. Now that they’re on my desk, I have multiple chances per day to pass by them, go “oh I gotta take those.” and take them.

11) Open storage, open storage, OPEN STORAGE.

12) Motivation can look like all kinds of things. sometimes the only reason I get out of bed is because I remember I have a fun snack and I get to go eat it if I get up. It’s okay to lean into those simple “animal-brain” type motivators, you’ll eat because then you can use that fun new kitchen gadget you got a daiso? Neat. you’ll shower because then you can paint your nails that fun new color you got? Fantastic. You’ll go to the dmv and do that annoying thing because you’ll take yourself out for boba after? Superb. Lean-IN to those small motivators, they aren’t stupid or childish, they are VITAL.

13) Don’t buy into the cult of “if it’s worth doing, do it properly” it’s guaranteed to set you up for failure. If it’s worth doing, do it in whatever capacity you are able to. I put sunscreen on once a day because that’s fucking better than not doing it at all and I sure as all hell will fail at reapplying it multiple times a day. If it’s worth doing, do it half-assed babieeee.

Go forth and prosper!!! xoxo ✌️🩵