#one day i will learn how to answer a question.... one day.................

[beigebeignett]

I do love angst but I'm also a sucker for happy endings and re-incarnation, so here's my take on what happens (decades/centuries) after:

The sphinx and her lover: reimagined

Imagine that the sphinx ends up dying, as all living creatures do, and ends up reincarnated as a very smart yet terrifying young scientist. 

Her passion in her fields equals her distaste for other people; especially men who try to undermine her knowledge and talent at dates. So, she sets up a strategy to determine who is worthy of her time.

If you want to get a date with me, solve my riddles, wrong answers will get you blocked. 

There, done, she thinks. If that doesn't make men stop bombarding her with messages, she doesn't know what will (well, she can think of a few others, but she'd rather not spend more time and energy than she's already spending on such a silly matter). 

And so, she starts getting less messages, with only some men and women being brave (or foolish) enough to try and chat with her. 

The ones that try to answer her riddles don't usually last long; getting the second or third wrong. Some don't even last the first one; those are usually the most bothersome, acting as if she has no right to choose her partner, as if she's being too ruthless (when she'd been honest since the beginning). 

Weeks pass before she gets another message. And so, she does as she always does. This time though, something's different. He keeps getting her riddles right, over, and over, and over. 

How curious, she thinks. How curious indeed, when he asks her if he could try asking her a riddle. She scoffs at her phone, partially amused, and agrees. 

She gets the answer right, of course, so he keeps asking riddle after riddle and she does the same, as if they were playing a game of pass the ball. The riddles get increasingly difficult, and the time those three dots stay floating on the chat grows longer as well; but she doesn't mind. She can wait a bit more for this one. Plus, while she waits, she can get lab reports done instead of worrying about finding new questions to ask that man. 

Sometimes days go by without her seeing any new riddles for him; sometimes a week passes before he gets asked another one. 

She must be busy, he thinks. He must have other things to do, she assumes. 

Between riddles, they start to talk about more mundane things: his job, her career, his essay on ancient Greek marriage practices; her paper on nuclear magnetic resonance in chemical engineering… He sends her pictures of his cat napping on top of his dictionaries and encyclopaedias, basking in the sun; and in turn she sends him pictures of boards filled with equations and pictures of filled excel tables.

Soon, they start chatting more, asking riddles occasionally when they’re both tired of talking about themselves. 

She learns that he’s an Archaeology major, and he finds out that she’s already getting her doctorate; something about chemical engineering, she explains. He’s fascinated by the topic, asking her a million questions about what it’s like, her doctorate subject, how did she choose her career path… And in turn she asks him about archaeology; why did he choose to spend his life studying the past, what is it that he enjoys the most about his field of work… 

They agree to meet up at the local library two days later. 

Almost a foot taller than him; that’s how tall she is. She’s waiting for him sitting near the entrance, browsing through architecture magazines when he finds her. He smiles and warmly waves at her, formally introducing himself, and extends his hand for her to shake; so she stands up as well to take it and introduce herself as well. That’s when they notice.

Even though he’s not short himself (considering the standards) at 5'9", at almost 7 feet tall she towers over him. Their aesthetics seem to clash a bit as well: his outfit is quite simple: some basic jeans and a nice cream wool jumper paired up with some sneakers, and hers consists of a pleated red skirt and a shirt paired with black knee-high boots to combat the cold. Out of the chat, and now face to face, their conversation flows easily; they exchange book recommendations, and of course they ask each other some riddles to pass the time. 

Overall, their first date goes well. Better than she expected, honestly, which is why when he asks her for a second date, she agrees.

To be continued...?

[urdreamydoodles]

MARVEL COMICS CHARACTERS x FEM!READER

Marvel Comics Characters with a S/O who is shy and has social anxiety

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Thor, Loki, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes, Matthew Murdock, Frank Castle, Marc Spector, Johnny Storm, Reed Richards, Felicia Hardy, Stephen Strange, Namor, Johnny Blaze, Eddie Brock / Venom, T'Challa & Elektra Natchios

This headcanons is for all my friends who suffer from social anxiety like me!

Peter Parker (Spider-Man)

- Peter understands your struggles in a way few others can. He was the kid who sat alone at lunch, the one who stammered through conversations, the boy who felt too much and spoke too little. So when you shrink into yourself at a crowded event or hesitate before speaking, he doesn’t push. He waits.

- He is patient with you, always. If your hands shake when ordering at a café, his fingers brush against yours—not grabbing, not forcing, just reminding you he’s there. If you struggle to meet a stranger’s eyes, he fills the silence effortlessly, making bad jokes until you breathe out a quiet laugh. He knows how much effort it takes, and he never belittles it.

- When you’re overwhelmed, he finds ways to help without making a big deal out of it. “Hey, let’s get out of here,” he’ll say casually, like he wasn’t watching you from the corner of his eye, counting the seconds between your anxious glances. He makes excuses to leave early, to find a rooftop where it’s just the two of you, the city stretching wide beneath your feet.

- He never forces you into situations that make you uncomfortable, but he believes in you, too. He knows you’re stronger than you think. “You don’t have to say anything,” he tells you after a stressful interaction, “but you did great. And I’m proud of you.”

- One day, when you stand your ground, when you speak up even though your voice shakes—Peter looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky. Like you’re the bravest person he’s ever met. And to him? You are.

Tony Stark (Iron Man)

- Tony is used to fast talkers and smooth charmers. He’s not used to you. The quiet, hesitant way you speak, the way your gaze flickers away when too many eyes are on you. At first, he doesn’t know what to do with it. But then, he realizes—he doesn’t need to do anything. He just needs to be there.

- Social situations? He handles them for you. If someone puts you on the spot, Tony is already redirecting the conversation before you can panic. If a gala feels too loud, too bright, too suffocating, he whisks you away with a perfectly crafted excuse. No one ever questions him—he’s Tony Stark, after all.

- But he also refuses to let you believe your anxiety makes you less. When you apologize for stumbling over your words, he raises a brow. “What, you think that matters to me? Have you met me? I stumble over my words all the time. It’s called being devastatingly charming.”

- He builds little comforts into your daily life without making a fuss. Noise-canceling headphones that match your style. A secret signal for when you need an escape. He makes sure you know—“I got you, sweetheart. Always.”

- One night, when you tell him you feel like a burden, he physically stops in his tracks. Turns to you, eyes serious in a way they rarely are. “You think being loved is a burden?” And when you don’t answer, when you shrink under his gaze, he exhales. Steps closer. “I don’t throw around the ‘L’ word lightly. But I love you. You get that, right?”

Steve Rogers (Captain America)

- Steve is a protector by nature, but he learns quickly that you don’t need protecting—you just need understanding. So he listens. He doesn’t try to fix you, doesn’t tell you to “just be more confident.” Instead, he sits with you in the quiet moments, in the spaces where words aren’t needed.

- When your anxiety flares up, his presence is a steady, grounding thing. His hand finds the small of your back in crowded rooms, a silent reminder that he’s there. If your breathing gets uneven, he murmurs, “With me, sweetheart. Deep breaths. In… out.” And when the world is too much, he shields you—not with his vibranium, but with his warmth.

- He notices the things you don’t say. The way your shoulders tense before you speak, the way you fidget when too many eyes are on you. He never rushes you, never forces you to talk before you’re ready. But when you do—when you finally find the courage to tell him what’s on your mind—he listens like it’s the most important thing in the world.

- He makes you feel safe. Not just physically, but emotionally. You never have to pretend with him. When you’re exhausted from socializing, he doesn’t take it personally. Instead, he presses a kiss to your temple and says, “Want to stay in tonight? Just us?”

- And one day, when someone comments on how quiet you are, how shy—you shrink back, but Steve? Steve straightens. Levels them with that unshakable, unwavering gaze. “Not everyone needs to be loud to be strong.” And the way he says it—the quiet pride in his voice—it makes you believe it, too.

Thor (God of Thunder)

- Thor does not understand at first. He is a god, a warrior, a king—he has never hesitated to speak his mind, never faltered in the presence of others. So when he notices your reluctance, your anxious glances, he frowns.

- But he learns. He watches the way you grip the hem of your sleeve when you’re overwhelmed, the way your voice gets softer when too many people are listening. He learns, and he adapts. Because that’s what love is.

- If you are uncomfortable in a gathering, he makes it known. “My beloved tires of this company,” he declares in the middle of a conversation, and before you can protest, he is leading you away, unbothered by the stares. To Thor, your comfort is more important than social niceties.

- He does not see your anxiety as a weakness. When you apologize for needing space, he shakes his head. “There is no shame in feeling.” And then, softer, “I would battle a thousand foes, but I cannot battle your thoughts. So tell me, my love—how can I ease them?”

- And when you finally speak—when you let yourself be vulnerable, let yourself be seen—Thor looks at you like you are more powerful than any storm he has ever summoned.

Loki (God of Mischief)

- Loki is used to masks. Used to hiding, used to maneuvering through conversations like they are battles to be won. But you? You don’t wear masks. You don’t need to. You are soft-spoken, hesitant, but there is a sincerity in you that unnerves him.

- He sees the way people overlook you, the way they dismiss quietness as weakness. It infuriates him. But more than that—it intrigues him. Because he sees what they do not. He sees the way your mind works, the depths beneath the surface.

- When you struggle with your words, he fills the silence with his own. When you are anxious, he redirects the attention elsewhere. He will never let the world swallow you whole.

- But when you grow comfortable, when you begin to speak more freely with him—Loki listens. No tricks, no arrogance. Just listens. And if anyone dares to mock your hesitance, they will learn why he is called the God of Mischief.

- One day, you tell him you feel small. Insignificant. He tilts your chin up, his green eyes glinting with something unreadable. “You are not small,” he murmurs, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. “You are the only thing in this realm that makes me feel real.”

Clint Barton (Hawkeye)

- Clint notices things. He notices the way your hands tremble when too many people are watching, the way your eyes flick toward the door in crowded rooms. He notices the way your breath catches before you speak, the way you fidget when someone puts you on the spot. He notices because he’s been there too—the kid no one thought twice about, the one who had to learn to take up space in a world that wanted to ignore him.

- He helps in his own way. Casual, unspoken, never forcing. When he sees your shoulders tense in a loud bar, he makes a joke so ridiculous, so absurd, that you forget why you were panicking in the first place. If you start to shut down at a gathering, he suddenly remembers an “important thing” he has to show you outside—just the two of you, away from the noise.

- He doesn’t push you to talk when you don’t want to, but when you do? He listens like every single word matters. Because to him, it does. He knows what it’s like to feel unheard, and he refuses to let you believe your voice is anything less than important.

- He’s protective, but not in an overbearing way. If someone tries to rush you into speaking, he’s already cutting in, redirecting the attention, making himself the distraction. If someone mocks your quietness, his usual easy grin goes sharp. He doesn’t need to throw a punch—his words are just as sharp as his arrows.

- But what really gets him? The way you trust him. The way you let him see the parts of you the world doesn’t always understand. One night, after a long day, you let yourself lean into him, burying your face against his shoulder. And Clint? He just holds you closer, arms firm around you, like he’s never letting go.

Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow)

- Natasha understands. She understands in a way no one else does. She was trained to be invisible, to fade into the background when necessary. She knows what it’s like to measure every word before speaking, to feel like too many eyes are on you.

- With her, there’s no pressure. No expectation. She never pushes you to be something you’re not. If you don’t want to talk, she doesn’t fill the silence with meaningless chatter. She lets the quiet exist, natural and unforced, because she knows sometimes words aren’t necessary.

- She is your shield in public. If she sees you struggling in a conversation, she subtly shifts the focus onto herself. If someone tries to pressure you, she gives them a look—a cold, unreadable thing that makes them shrink back immediately. No one messes with you when Natasha is around.

- But in private, she’s different. Softer. When you tell her your fears—your worries about being a burden, about not being enough—she listens, then gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she murmurs, her lips brushing against your forehead. “You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

- And one day, when you stand up for yourself—when you find your voice even though your hands shake—she watches you with something like pride. Because she knows exactly how strong you are.

Bucky Barnes (Winter Soldier)

- Bucky knows what it’s like to feel out of place. To feel like the world moves too fast, too loud, too much. So when you get overwhelmed, when the anxiety becomes too sharp, he doesn’t tell you to “calm down.” He just takes your hand. Grounds you. Stays with you.

- He’s not much for words, but he doesn’t need them. He knows when you need space and when you need him close. If you’re panicking in public, he subtly moves in front of you, blocking the world from view. If you need an out, he makes an excuse without hesitation.

- He’s fiercely protective, but he never treats you like you’re fragile. He knows you’re strong, even if you don’t always believe it. “You don’t have to be loud to matter,” he tells you one night, his voice quiet but sure. “I see you. That’s enough.”

- When you have bad days, the kind where speaking feels impossible, he never makes you feel guilty. Instead, he just sits with you, silent but present. Sometimes, he’ll read aloud, his voice low and steady, filling the empty spaces with something comforting.

- And when you finally whisper, “Thank you,” he just shakes his head. “You don’t have to thank me, doll.” And the way he says it—like it’s the easiest thing in the world to love you—makes your heart ache.

Matthew Murdock (Daredevil)

- Matt hears everything—the shift in your breath when you’re nervous, the way your heartbeat speeds up in crowds. He hears the words you don’t say, the ones caught behind your teeth, and he never pushes them out. He lets you speak at your own pace, in your own way.

- He’s a lawyer, a talker, a charmer—but with you? He is patient. Gentle. He knows the weight of words, the way they can soothe or break, and he chooses them carefully when speaking to you.

- If a social event becomes too much, he senses it before you even say a word. “Wanna get out of here?” he murmurs, already reaching for your hand, already leading you somewhere quieter, somewhere safer.

- He never lets anyone make you feel small. If someone talks over you, dismisses your words—his easy charm vanishes. His voice turns sharp, his lawyer’s precision cutting through their ignorance like a blade.

- But when it’s just the two of you—when the city quiets, when the weight of the world is gone—he presses his forehead to yours and whispers, “You don’t have to be anyone but yourself with me.” And for the first time, you believe it.

Frank Castle (The Punisher)

- Frank is not a man of many words, but he doesn’t need them. He sees you—the way your hands curl into fists when you’re anxious, the way you shrink back when too many eyes are on you. And without a word, he adjusts. He puts himself between you and the world, silent and steady, your shield against everything too loud, too much.

- He never tells you to “just relax” or “get over it.” He knows what it’s like to have demons clawing at your throat, to feel like your own mind is working against you. So instead, he stays close. A hand at your back. A steadying presence beside you. A quiet, unspoken promise—I’ve got you.

- If someone mocks your quietness, Frank’s entire demeanor changes. His voice drops, his posture shifts. “You got a problem?” And suddenly, the room is very, very quiet.

- But when it’s just you and him—when the world is far away and you don’t have to be anything but yourself—he’s softer. He pulls you into his arms, presses a kiss to your hair. “You’re safe,” he murmurs. “You don’t gotta be anything but you.”

- And in that moment, wrapped in his arms, you finally believe him.

Marc Spector (Moon Knight)

- Marc is a man of chaos, of violence, of war. But with you, he learns the art of stillness. He sees the way you hesitate before speaking, the way your hands tremble when too many eyes are on you, and he knows that kind of fear. He’s lived with it—not the fear of people, but the fear of never truly belonging.

- When crowds press in too close, when anxiety wraps around you like barbed wire, he moves instinctively—positioning himself at your side, shielding you from the world. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t pry—he simply becomes a wall between you and whatever is making your breath hitch.

- He’s rough around the edges, all sharp angles and battle scars, but when it comes to you? His hands are gentle, his voice low and steady. If you can’t meet his gaze, he tilts his head just slightly, lowering himself to where you are—never forcing, always waiting.

- If someone dares to mock your quietness, Marc is not a man of restraint. He looms over them, voice eerily calm but laced with danger. “Say that again.” He doesn’t need to throw a punch—his presence alone is enough to send them running.

- But when you’re alone, when the night is still and the world is quiet, he holds you like you’re the only thing keeping him tethered. “I get it,” he murmurs into your hair. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” And you know, without a doubt, that he means it.

Johnny Storm (Human Torch)

- Johnny is fire, and you are the quiet ember he never knew he needed. He is loud, bold, reckless—the center of every room he walks into. And yet, when he’s with you, he finds himself softening, lowering his volume, learning to exist in the quiet without burning it away.

- He doesn’t always understand your anxiety, but he tries. He notices the way your fingers twitch before speaking, the way you flinch at unexpected attention, and he makes it his personal mission to be your buffer.

- If you ever feel overwhelmed at an event, he pulls you aside with the easiest excuse in the world—“Sorry, gotta steal my girl for a sec.” And just like that, you’re swept away, safe in the warmth of his presence, away from prying eyes.

- When someone comments on how “shy” you are, he grins wide, throws an arm around your shoulders, and says, “Yeah? Well, she’s also the smartest, kindest, most beautiful person in the room, so I’d shut up if I were you.” And somehow, you know he means every single word.

- At the end of the day, when the world feels too big and your voice feels too small, Johnny pulls you into his arms, presses his forehead to yours, and whispers, “You don’t have to be loud to be heard. I hear you.” And for the first time, you believe it.

Reed Richards (Mister Fantastic)

- Reed’s mind moves faster than most, always ten steps ahead, lost in equations and theories. But with you? He slows down. He listens, truly listens, because he knows how hard it is for you to speak sometimes—and if there’s one thing he values, it’s the power of a voice that chooses its words carefully.

- He’s observant, even if he doesn’t always show it. He notices the subtle shifts in your posture, the way your breathing changes when anxiety creeps in. And without a word, he adjusts—offering his hand, shifting attention away from you, giving you space when you need it.

- When someone talks over you, dismisses your words, Reed is not an aggressive man—but he is precise. He calmly redirects the conversation, effortlessly reinforcing your point until the offender realizes their mistake. It’s a quiet kind of defense, but it leaves no room for doubt: your words matter.

- He never forces you into situations that make you uncomfortable, but he encourages you in the gentlest ways. When you whisper your thoughts to him, he repeats them out loud, ensuring your ideas are heard. He never takes credit for your brilliance—he amplifies it.

- And when you’re alone, when the weight of the world is too much, he pulls you close, resting his chin atop your head. “You don’t have to be anyone but yourself,” he murmurs. “You are enough, exactly as you are.”

Felicia Hardy (Black Cat)

- Felicia is a storm wrapped in silk—a whirlwind of charm, confidence, and mischief. And yet, with you, she is something softer, something gentler, something she never thought she could be.

- She adores the way you shy away from attention, how you linger in the background—not because she wants you to hide, but because she loves the way your beauty is something only those who look closely can see.

- When you get anxious in public, she drapes herself over you like a shield, whispering teasing remarks into your ear until you laugh and forget why you were nervous in the first place. She makes the world feel smaller, safer—like it’s just the two of you, even in a crowded room.

- If someone insults your quietness, her entire demeanor shifts. The playful smirk sharpens, her eyes go cold, and she takes a single step forward. “Wanna say that again, sweetheart?” No one ever does.

- But when it’s just the two of you, when the night is quiet and you’re curled up in her arms, she presses a kiss to your forehead and murmurs, “You don’t need to change for anyone, least of all me. I love you exactly as you are.”

Stephen Strange (Doctor Strange)

- Stephen is a man who has faced horrors beyond comprehension, who has seen the vastness of the cosmos and returned unchanged. And yet, you—soft-spoken, hesitant, shy—unravel him in ways he never anticipated.

- He is a man of logic, of knowledge, and yet he finds himself studying you as though you are the most intricate spell he has ever encountered. He learns your tells, your fears, the quiet ways you ask for help.

- When your anxiety becomes too much, he doesn’t try to “fix” it—he simply exists beside you, grounding you with his presence. If words fail you, he conjures illusions of calming landscapes, filling the space with something serene, something safe.

- If someone belittles you, his voice turns cold, clipped. “Do you always judge people based on volume, or is it just when you lack the intellect to comprehend quiet strength?” His words cut deeper than any blade, and the offender is left stammering, humiliated.

- But when you’re alone, when the world has faded away and it’s just the two of you, he takes your hands in his, presses a kiss to your knuckles, and whispers, “You don’t need grand gestures to be extraordinary. You already are.” And for the first time, you feel like maybe, just maybe, he’s right.

Namor (The Sub-Mariner)

- Namor is a king, a warrior, a force of nature that bends to no one. He is fire and water, fury and grace, and yet when he looks at you—quiet, hesitant, soft in ways he has never been—his arrogance falters. He has ruled the depths for centuries, but he would kneel for you.

- He does not understand your reluctance to speak, the way your hands shake in crowded halls, but he does not mock you for it. Instead, he watches, learns, and makes sure his court knows that your words carry the weight of a queen’s decree.

- When you feel small, when your voice wavers, Namor’s is strong enough for the both of you. If anyone dares to belittle your quietness, his voice booms across the room, regal and unyielding. “You would do well to remember that power is not measured in volume, but in presence.”

- He encourages you to stand tall, not because he wishes to change you, but because he knows the depths of your strength, even when you don’t. He will remind you as many times as necessary—until you believe it, until the ocean itself whispers your name with reverence.

- And in the moments when the world is too much, when the pressure of existence weighs heavy on your chest, he takes you to the water. He carries you effortlessly through the waves, where silence is sacred and your anxiety cannot reach. Here, with him, you are weightless.

Johnny Blaze (Ghost Rider)

- Johnny Blaze has stared into the abyss and walked away burning. He has made deals with devils, has felt Hell’s fire in his veins, but nothing terrifies him more than the thought of you feeling like you are alone.

- He knows what it’s like to be trapped in your own mind, to battle demons no one else can see. So when he sees your hands tremble, your voice falter, he doesn’t push—he just stays. A quiet, unwavering presence, reminding you that you don’t have to fight alone.

- When your anxiety is a storm raging inside you, he lets you borrow his fire. Not in words, not in force, but in touch—a steady hand at the small of your back, a whispered joke to pull you from the darkness. He doesn’t try to fix you. He just makes sure you know you’re not broken.

- If someone mocks your quietness, Johnny doesn’t bother with threats. He just looks at them, eyes burning gold, voice like gravel and embers. “Wanna run that by me again?” One glance at the fire flickering beneath his skin, and they never do.

- But when the night is still, when his demons are quiet and yours are loud, he holds you close, presses a kiss to your temple, and murmurs, “You don’t need to be louder to matter, sweetheart. You’re already everything.”

Eddie Brock / Venom

- Eddie has never been good with words, and Venom has never needed them. But when it comes to you—shy, hesitant, unsure of your place in the world—they both learn a new kind of patience.

- Venom is fascinated by you. “WHY IS SHE SO QUIET?” the symbiote demands. “SHE IS STRONG. THEY SHOULD FEAR HER.” And Eddie just sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, buddy, but not everyone wants to be feared.”

- When your anxiety flares, Eddie keeps you close, shielding you from the world with the ease of a man who has spent a lifetime on the outskirts. And if that isn’t enough? Venom coils around you, a silent, watchful protector, daring anyone to make you uncomfortable.

- If someone ever makes fun of your quiet nature, Eddie lets out a slow, measured breath—then smirks. “You really wanna keep talking?” And before they can respond, Venom grins wide, teeth gleaming. “WE COULD EAT THEM,” the symbiote suggests, only half-joking. (Probably.)

- But in the quiet moments, when it’s just the three of you, Eddie rests his forehead against yours and sighs. “You don’t have to change for anyone, least of all me.” And Venom, surprisingly gentle, echoes, “WE LIKE YOU AS YOU ARE.”

T’Challa (Black Panther)

- T’Challa has ruled nations, fought wars, stood against gods. But when you look up at him, eyes hesitant, voice barely above a whisper, he feels like a man first and a king second.

- He is deliberate with his affection, precise in his understanding. He does not rush you. He does not try to fix what is not broken. Instead, he offers his hand—steady, unwavering, waiting for you to take it when you’re ready.

- When your anxiety makes you withdraw, he does not let the world swallow you. Instead, he ensures that you are given the space to exist on your terms. You are not just "his" in the public eye—you are your own, and he will defend your right to be exactly as you are.

- Should anyone dare mock your shyness, his response is quiet but lethal. “Do not mistake her silence for weakness,” he says, voice like the edge of a blade. “There is power in stillness. And wisdom in restraint.” And just like that, the room remembers why he is king.

- But when the throne room is empty, when the world is quiet, he cups your face with hands that have known both war and tenderness. “You do not need to raise your voice to be heard, my love,” he whispers. “I will always listen.”

Elektra Natchios

- Elektra moves like a shadow, speaks like a blade. She has spent a lifetime in the dark, but with you, she learns that love does not need to be loud to be real.

- She understands your silence in a way few others can. She does not push, does not pry—she simply exists beside you, unwavering, patient. If you need space, she gives it. If you need grounding, her hand finds yours, steady and sure.

- When your anxiety takes hold, she does not fill the silence with empty words. Instead, she teaches you how to fight—not because she expects you to, but because she wants you to know that you are strong. Even in stillness. Even in silence.

- If someone ever dares to mock your quietness, Elektra doesn’t speak. She doesn’t need to. One sharp glance, one tilt of her head, and suddenly, the offender remembers they have somewhere else to be.

- And when the night is quiet, when it’s just the two of you tangled in silk and moonlight, she runs a slow hand down your spine and whispers, “The world does not deserve you.” And you believe her—because in her eyes, you are more dangerous, more beautiful, more powerful than anyone could ever understand.

[thealexchen]

Why Dontnod's games feel original and inspired (and why Deck Nine's games don't)

So, I've talked at length about how Double Exposure feels much more like a corporate product than a playable piece of art entertainment [My initial thoughts on the DE trailer] [My thoughts on the early access paywall] [My thoughts on the weird marketing].

But now with the release of Lost Records, I feel like I have no choice but to confront the question: were any of Deck Nine's games truly original or inspired in any way? And honestly, I have to say no.

Objectively, I could say it's because Deck Nine literally has not produced any original IP's since their rebrand from Idol Minds in 2017. Their only narrative adventure games are all part of the LiS franchise. But even their most original game, True Colors, pretty obviously follows the first game's narrative formula (young woman with a superpower investigates a sudden disappearance/death in a small town with a dark secret, has two opposite sex love interests, learns about a twist villain, is nearly murdered, and goes through a psychological nightmare in the last episode) to a tee. But oh look, there's also a LARP!

But I believe there's more to it than that, because when I look at Dontnod's games, they are always inspired by other works. Life is Strange 1 plays very clear homage to Twin Peaks with the Pacific Northwest setting and Rachel Amber resembling Laura Palmer. Max Caulfield is named after the protagonist of The Catcher in the Rye, another novel about the fleeting innocence of childhood and superficiality of society. Life is Strange borrows tropes from Donnie Darko, Groundhog Day, The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, Stand By Me, and even Blue is The Warmest Color for its themes and plot points. Just take a look at its "Shout-out" page on TV Tropes. And the result is... something completely original, with riveting plot twists, memorable characters, and an ending that will make you cry.

This shouldn't make sense, right? You'd think this big soup of references would turn into an indistinguishable mess of cliches, but Life is Strange managed to be a synthesis of everything the writers loved and were inspired by, to become something completely new. Why? Because nobody had tried to take Twin Peaks, Donnie Darko, and The Catcher in the Rye and turn it into a video game before! And make it gay!

The point being, Dontnod consistently makes original material because they take creative risks. This is definitely not done lightly, since they still need to be a company that generates profit, but they still prioritize making art over selling out. Their stories feel inspired because they are inspired; when writers love what they're writing about, the result is a passion project that has loving, clever nods to all the works that are woven into it.

So perhaps a way to reword that first question is to then ask, "Have Deck Nine's games ever been inspired by anything?" And unfortunately, the answer is still no. Instead, they just copy what they hope will sell well. And a bland imitation for the sake of generating profit is never going to produce anything that feels original.

This takes me back to Lost Records, which is also clearly inspired by the same works: Twin Peaks, It: Chapter One, The Craft, The Blair Witch Project, The Goonies, Stand By Me. But again, no other game studio besides Dontnod has ever looked at these works and thought, "But what if it starred teenage lesbians instead?" Or, more specifically: "How do we capture the spirit of what made these media great and incorporate that into a new story for a new audience?" And those characters have so much thought and care poured into them too: while I've been disappointed that Double Exposure Max looks airbrushed to hell and back, I love that the Bloom & Rage girls have asymmetrical faces, acne, freckles, body hair, skin discoloration, and diverse body types. Double Exposure is marketed as nostalgia bait for fans, where Max is reduced to a prettied-up, polished-up, representation of nostalgia, not even her own character anymore, in a game that otherwise has no connection to the original. Her quips are reduced to "Hey! Remember our good ol', dad-joke cracking, dorky Max Caulfield??" and her grief is shoved aside for "Hey, look at that appealing new love interest! Because we knoooow y'all love your sapphic romance, right?"

By contrast, Lost Records has only been out for 10 days, but I already feel like the girls are some of the most memorable characters I've come across in gaming for the niche they fill. Swann seems like your typical Max-like dork, except she's also a movie buff and giddy about bugs, horror, and the paranormal; and has clearly been affected by her mother's fatphobic beliefs. Autumn is a level-headed leader who always stuck to her desire to help others, and her Blackness naturally informs her desire to feel valued and not cause trouble in a small, very white, conservative town. Nora intrigues me so much for going from a fun-loving rebel punk teen to a more gender-conforming, capitalist-leaning, influencer businesswoman. And Kat feels like an evolution of Chloe's cynicism, where her scrappy charm belies an almost unsettling obsession with the occult and a deep, tragic chasm of rage at having to confront her mortality far too young. They make sense. They feel carefully written, genuine, and like real people.

But most of all, Dontnod's games have never felt like products. In fact, most of their characters have historically gone against the grain of what traditionally "marketable" characters are. The first LiS took all these aforementioned stories about straight white men and chose to remix and retell it through the eyes of a young, queer, time-traveling girl instead. Tell Me Why is the first AAA game with a trans protagonist, and Tyler is voiced by a trans actor in all the language dubs. Lost Records decided that it would tell its story through four queer teenage girls, with women writers onboard, and fucking own it. As long as Dontnod keeps making games that stick to their creative integrity, I'll keep respecting their vision in whatever they decide to create next. Also, maybe I should finally watch Twin Peaks.

Thank you for reading!

[fel-09]

Howdy! Hello! Thanks for answer my last request so quickly! It was amazing and your writing is wonderful to read!

I had another request if you are interested? Another Thranduil x Reader, except in this one Reader can’t feel pain? Like not a situation where they have a high pain tolerance but they have a medical condition that makes it impossible for them to feel pain!

And who will protect you?

Sorry for the mistakes, I'm very tired.

You were used to curious stares.

Humans, elves, dwarves-anyone who recognized your secret gazed at you with apprehension, doubt, or even disgust. You felt no pain. Not at all. Since birth. It was not a gift, not a blessing, but rather a curse. Deprived of your natural self-preservation mechanism, you have been on the brink of life and death many times.

Thranduil learned of this by accident.

The battle was fierce. Arrows bursting, screams, the smell of blood. You fought alongside the elves of Licholesia, twirling among your enemies, not noticing the blades cutting through your skin. Only when the battle was over, when everyone held their breath in the deafening silence, did Thranduil notice you - bloody, with wounds that should have rolled you off your feet.

- Why are you standing there? - His voice was cold, but wariness lurked in his eyes.

You shrugged.

- It's not fatal.

His gaze slid to the deep cut on your side. The blood flowed in an even, dark line, and only the absence of a grimace of pain proved your words. He didn't believe it at first, but when you looked up at him with a calm, even indifferent gaze, something in his face changed.

Thranduil was an elf who saw everything, felt everything. He felt the rustle of leaves as they fell from the trees. He felt the warmth of the fire, even if he didn't touch it. His world was made of sensations, and you... you were devoid of them.

He couldn't understand that.

- So you don't feel pain. - He'd said it once, watching you bandage a fresh wound on your arm.

You nodded.

- How do you know you're not feeling well?

You hesitated.

- By the blood," you answered simply.

Thranduil stared at you for a long time, too long, as if trying to figure out something impossible.

- It means you could be hurt, but you wouldn't know it.

You nodded again.

- 'It makes you vulnerable.

- It makes me strong,' you parried.

He grinned.

- No. It makes you a mortal who doesn't realize the limits of her body.

You didn't answer, but a strange emotion flared inside. You'd never thought of yourself the way he said.

Thranduil was watching you. You saw it out of the corner of your eye, felt his presence in the shadows of the trees, in the remoteness of the palace corridors. He asked questions no one had ever asked before.

- Are you afraid of death?

- No.

- But if you can't feel pain, then you can't tell when it's time to stop.

- That's right.

- It scares me.

You looked up at him sharply. The king, whose mask of unwavering confidence never fell, was admitting fear?

He stepped closer, slowly, as if he feared breaking the thin line that separated you.

- I don't want you to die.

You smiled.

- 'No one does.

He frowned.

- I want you to live.

Those words penetrated your heart. No one had ever said it to you like that before, with such feeling. People have wondered, feared, but not cared. No one tried to protect you from yourself.

One day he reached out and touched your palm.

- Can you feel it?

You shook your head.

- But you realize I'm there for you?

- Yes.

He squeezed your hand tighter.

- Then you can feel, just differently.

You didn't know what to say.

With him by your side, you began to realize something different. You didn't feel pain, but you felt the warmth of his hands. You didn't feel hurt, but you felt his eyes on you. And for the first time in your life, you wanted to feel pain to see if it was real.

But the pain didn't come.

Only something else came, the feeling that you didn't have to be with him.

didn't have to be the one

he didn't feel. Because he felt for both of them.

You expected it.

Thranduil didn't say anything out loud, but you knew it would happen. When the King of Licholesia made a decision, no one could change his mind. No one, except perhaps time itself.

- You will not go into battle.

His voice was calm, but steel lurked in that calmness.

You froze, clutching the bandaged blade in your hand.

- I have fought before.

- And you won't again.

You gritted your teeth.

- Thranduil, this is not your war.

- This is not your war. - He stepped closer, and you could see the anger glittering in the depths of his eyes, cold and icy as a winter night. - You go into battle without realizing your limits. You could bleed out and not notice.

You clenched your fists.

- I know my limits!

- Lie. - He raised his hand as if about to touch your face, but stopped at the last moment. - You don't even know where your body ends.

You didn't answer.

He took another step forward, and you felt the tension in the room become as palpable as a bell.

- I forbid you.

Silence.

You stared at him, incredulous, irritated, but deep down.... you were afraid.

- You have no right.

- Yes, I do. - His voice was firm. - I am your king.

You wanted to hit him. You wanted to claw at him, make him realize he couldn't decide for you.

But he'd already made up his mind.

You unclenched your fists.

- Is it because you're afraid?

He didn't answer right away. But when he did, there was something different in his words.

- Yes.

You felt the ground slipping away from under your feet.

- If you felt pain, you'd know when to stop. - His voice got quieter, deeper. - And now I have to do it for you.

You turned away.

- You don't understand.

- I do. - Thranduil leaned down to look into your eyes. - You're used to living on the edge. But now you have something to lose.

You didn't know what to say.

You could have thrown yourself into battle, gone against his will, proved something, but... в

this time it was different.

Thranduil wasn't just forbidding.

He was protecting you.

You felt the tension in the air become almost palpable.

Thranduil stood across from you, his gaze piercing you, but not with anger, but with something much deeper. Anxiety. Fear. Something he probably never allowed himself to show.

You wanted to say something, but he didn't give you time.

Warm palms rested on your cheeks, and before you could blink, his lips touched yours.

The kiss was deep, but not desperate. It was firm, but not demanding. It was... protective.

Like he was trying to convey to you through that touch everything he couldn't put into words.

When he pulled away, his forehead remained pressed against yours. He was breathing heavily, as if he had to fight for this moment.

- I know you want to protect people," his voice was quiet, but it was so strong that you felt as if the words were imprinted in the air. - But who will protect you?

You didn't have time to answer.

His hands slid down your back, enclosing you in an embrace. They weren't hard or overbearing. They were strong, secure, like he was trying to keep you safe from the world.

- Except for me," he whispered. - I'm your only defense...

You froze, feeling him press you into him, as if that weren't enough, as if he was afraid you'd disappear into thin air if he loosened his grip.

- I'm afraid... - he breathed out this confession into your hair, so quietly that if you hadn't been so close, you might not have heard it at all. - I don't want to admit it, but I'm afraid I'm going to lose you.

You squeezed your eyes shut.

You're used to fear, but not like this.

You're used to being afraid for others, but not for yourself.

And now, in his arms, you realized - for the first time, someone was afraid for you.

Not because you were weak.

But because you were important to him.

You hugged him back, pulling him closer.

- Then let me stay close.

He

didn't respond with words. He just squeezed you tighter.

[annabthesolitarywriter]

Thank you for the tag, @saurongorthaur9!

Since I fear a single sentence wouldn't make much sense, I am going to share a very short snippet from my yet untitled One-shot for Day 7 of this year's upcoming Boromir Week. This unedited snippet features Boromir and his eldest daughter Findelis (nicknamed Lis).

-

“I think you ought not worry about that, my child.”

She smiled. “Mother and I have been setting up her chambers and we have worked on the finishing touches in what will be her master bedroom for as long as she is allowed to stay here. She adores roses, lilies and tulips so I placed some on her night table. I have also instructed the kitchen staff to cook an entire batch of glazed carrots as well as mashed potatoes with lots of melted butter and roast potatoes with thyme. That is what she apparently wishes he could eat if only Ioreth allowed her. I still do not understand why that woman still hovers around her like a hawk. She is going to be a mother soon. She no longer needs a nursemaid and one so cruel, at that.”

Her eyes widened. “Ioreth will not be attending on the child, will she?”

Boromir sighed once more. “I wish I knew the answer to that question, for I will not deny that it is a matter which troubles me greatly.”

“Do you reckon she would harm him?”

 Boromir frowned. “Him?”

“My dearest cousin is persuaded that she is going to give birth to a boy. I attempted to tell her that she should not anticipate it, but she would not hear of it. On my last visit to Minas Tirith, she threw a slipper at me, which I easily dodged, and then a physician was summoned.”

“A physician?”

“Yes, Father. She screamed at me and started having pains soon after. She had been informed of the nature of her condition earlier that week and…I was told that she nearly lost her baby. It has been many weeks since we last saw one another and I have been wondering whether she fell ill because of me since I left the Capital. She is so frail and…”

“I know, sweetling.” Boromir caressed her face. “Worry not, my darling girl. Enna and her child are going to be alright.”

“How can you be so certain of it?”

“That is only my hope, Findelis.”

She gulped. “I know you do not particularly care for them, but…do you reckon the Valar will watch over her?”

“I fear it would be hypocritical of me to address such matters. I am sorry to disappoint you, my child. I do, however, hope that they do. Enna is every bit as dear to me as you are. My beautiful, unlucky niece. I hope she finds happiness at last.”

“Hope…you always speak of it.”

Boromir smiled and lightly squeezed his daughter’s shoulder. “Hope is the most precious thing one can have. I bid you never lose it.”

-

That's all! I hope you liked it. More to come! 😊

No pressure tags: open tags (anyone can join) and @lucifers-legions and @emmanuellececchi because...Boromir? 🤣 I really like how this is turning out so far but you two write the Captain of Gondor much better than I and I need a learned opinion 😅

WIP game! Post the last line you wrote and tag as many people as there are words! Thank you for the double tag, @verecunda and @themalhambird! <3 I already did this one two times, but since I am currently doing quite a bit of writing, I can do it again, hehe! :D

"What a lovely sight you make," Celebrimbor couldn’t help but say.

Zero Pressure tags: @plotdesigner @gauntletgirlie @wowstrawberrycow @thephoenixandthecrocodile @saffronstories @gingeragenda @varda-star-queen @ailendolin @radiant-sunlight-blueberry @eowyn7023 @baddybaddyadardaddy and anyone else who wants to play <3

[isa-ghost]

QSMPblr Language Day Ask Game!

Happy Language Day!!! As the person who organized for us to try this again without something catastrophic ruining the fun, I wanted to make an ask game! :D

If you reblog this you HAVE to send AT LEAST one ask to the person you reblogged from! You can copy/paste the question right from this post and into the ask OR ask it in your language of choice*. Whoever you ask answers it in a language of their choice! You can ask just one of the questions below, but are encouraged to ask multiple!

*Language of choice as in their first/native/preferred language!

Obviously all asks are QSMP themed. :)

1- Who are your Top 3-5 QSMP cubitos? Any particular reason why those are your faves?

2- Who was/were your main POV(s)? Yes this is different than favorite cubitos.

3- Which egg that ISN'T the child(ren) of your favorite cubito is your favorite?

4- Favorite lore moment? Can be serious OR silly.

5- Favorite server event? Can be cultural or otherwise!

6- Do you have a favorite Federation Worker or other non-egg NPC?

7- Which POV that you didn't watch do you wish you could've caught live?

8- Now that QSMP is gone, are there any CCs from the server that you still watch any content of?

9- Share one of your favorite QSMP fanart, animatic, fanfic, edit, cosplay, etc (WITH CREDIT)!

10- Favorite "mundane" moment? (Mundane meaning no event or formal lore was going on. Even if the CCs were in-character, they were still just hanging out!)

11- What's something you wish was confirmed as canon for your favorite cubito? Alternatively: What's your favorite canon lore bit for your favorite cubtio?

12- List 1-3 things you learned about any of the cultures on the server.

13- List 1-3 words or phrases you learned from any of the languages on the server.

14- Share a phrase from your first/native/preferred language!

15- What pair of CCs do you wish interacted more on the server? Doesn't have to be a pair that never/rarely interacted.

16- Do you remember where you were or what you were doing when your favorite lore moment happened? (Example from OP: I was getting my favorite loaded fries for lunch during Phil's Ender King lore finale)

17- Tag 3 friends/mutuals you met because of QSMP. They now have to send you one of these questions and you have to send one to each of them, even if they aren't participating! >:)

18- If your cubito didn't get an official lore finale, what would you have wanted their finale to be? If your cubito DID get an official finale, how do you feel about it?

19- What culture/language do you wish you would've gotten to see on the server had things not fallen apart?

20- What was the first server event that you watched live?

21- Favorite inside joke or meme from the server (ex: Cellbit's ad, Chayanne being Cucurucho, the furry club, etc.)?

22- Favorite funny moment in general?

23- Was there any moment on the server, lore or not, that made you cry? Happy tears or sad tears?

24- Favorite build/location on the server?

25- What is your opinion on the QSMP 2024 location on the server?

26- Share a song you found because of the server (thanks to an animatic, lore, something else, etc.). Alternatively: Share a song that makes you think of your favorite cubito, and explain why!

27- How do you feel about Cucurucho?

28- What unfinished bit of lore do you wish we got to see completed?

29- What CC(s) would you have wanted to see added to the server? Can be a CC that speaks any language.

30- What is a moment, lore or not, that you think is underrated?

[itsnesss]

I don't normally request, haha, but I haven't been able to find many fics for this idea. Could you do nam-gyu smut, the prompt being "He knows how to get you to choose O." As in voting to stay? Tyy, if you want to do this. I love your works sm! Have a good night/day!! ♥︎

𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞 "𝐎" | nam-gyu (player 124) × fem!reader

summary | nam-gyu challenges you to decide whether to stay or leave. with his control and manipulation, you soon realize what you truly want is to stay, giving in to his influence

warnings | smut, manipulation, power dynamics, explicit content, p in v, unprotected sex

word count | 1.4 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The room is cold, the lights flicker, and the constant hum of the monitors seems to drown out any attempt to think. In the distance, the echo of other players discussing their decisions fills the air, but your thoughts are focused on one thing. The decision. The vote.

"Stay or go." That is the question that has been haunting your mind since you arrived here. No one really knows what will happen after tonight, but the option to leave has stopped being as clear as it seemed at first.

Nam-gyu is standing in front of you, his dark eyes locked onto yours. You have no idea when he approached, nor how he managed to make you feel so vulnerable. But there he is, in his usual position of power. He always knows how to make people follow him. What you don't know is why you are so willing to follow him too.

"You know what you have to do," he murmurs, getting a little closer. The tension in the air is palpable, and you can't help but feel the weight of his words. "Stay or leave." Choose."

"Whatever you decide, you'll do it for me," he says, his voice low and filled with a confidence that sends shivers down your spine. He knows you too well. You know that he knows how to make you feel small, how to manipulate your emotions, how to influence your decisions.

You look into his eyes, searching for a clue, an indication of what he really wants from you. But you only find that fierce, intense gaze, as if he were testing you, challenging you.

"And if I decide to stay..." you whisper, even though you already know the answer. "What do you want in return?"

He smiles, that arrogant smile that takes your breath away. Without saying a word, he moves closer, his hands gently resting on your waist. You feel the heat of his body, the beat of his heart, and something inside you crumbles. You can't resist.

"You don't have to say anything," he murmurs in your ear, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine. "I just want you to choose what you desire most."

You don't fully understand it, but something in his tone, in the way he touches you, makes your mind go hazy. Fear, doubt, everything that had held you back before disappears in that moment. The only thing that matters is what he wants, what he makes you feel.

His mouth finds yours in a quick, demanding kiss, as if he were already claiming what he knows is his. You feel his desire, his control, and for a moment, you wonder if your decision was ever really yours.

"Choose O," he says, his voice full of power and persuasion, and you know that what he is really saying is "choose to stay." "Because I know what you really want."

You feel trapped, but instead of wanting to escape, you surrender. Because you know that in this game, in this world, Nam-gyu is in control. And in the end, you realize that you made the easiest decision of all.

The one about surrendering to him, the one about accepting his control. The one to choose to stay.

Putting aside your fears and worries to let him take the reins. Let him guide you to what you truly desire. Even though you know it could cost you everything, you decide it doesn't matter. Because if there's one thing you've learned, it's that some decisions can only be made under pressure, under desire.

"Alright," you whisper in his ear.

And he smiles. He knows victory. It knows you. And he takes you with him. To a place where freedom doesn't exist, but you don't need it either. Because after all, you only have one option.

Stay. With him. Because he is what makes you feel complete. And in return, he will give you everything you could ask for.

"You are mine," he whispers in your ear. "You chose to stay, you chose me." Now you are mine.

You nod, knowing there's no turning back. That there is only one answer to everything that is happening.

"Yes," you whisper.

Take the opportunity to go to the bathroom and you follow him, knowing that you are his. You can't help it, and you don't want to either.

"Let's go," he says, and you follow without hesitation.

You don't need anyone to explain to you what's going to happen. You know. You have known it from the beginning.

"Just go with the flow," he tells you on the way to the bathroom.

You don't need to ask why, or what is going to happen there. You just know that you have to accept their control, their will.

And you do it.

You enter the bathroom, and he follows you, the door closes behind you.

"I know you want this," he says.

"There's no turning back," he whispers in your ear, holding you tightly in his arms and pulling you closer to him.

"Take it all off," he orders.

And you do what he says. You take off the green uniform, the bra, and the panties, and you stand naked before him.

You can't help but blush, but he doesn't seem to mind.

"That's it, you're my girl," he says.

You feel the heat of his hands on your hips, on your buttocks, on your legs. You feel his fingers exploring your body, stopping at your nipples, at your crotch.

"Is that what you want?" he asks you.

"Yes," you murmur.

His smile is the answer you need.

You don't want more. That's all you need to leave everything in their hands. You know you can't control anything. Neither your body nor your reactions.

"You want my cock," he says, and you can feel it hardening in his pants.

"Yes," you sigh.

And you can feel him getting a little closer, as his mouth rests on your chest, on your nipples. You feel how he sucks hard, how he pulls your nipple down. You feel the pressure between your legs, the desire for him to let you in.

"That's it," he murmurs in your ear and you can feel his warm breath, his breath on your skin.

He kisses you on the mouth with strength, with passion. You can feel the moisture on your lips, the taste of his mouth, the firmness of his arms around you.

"Mmmm..." you moan a little as you feel his fingers inside you.

"You're so wet..." he murmurs, and you can feel his smile on your lips.

"Yes..." you admit a bit embarrassed.

"Good girl..." he murmurs.

You can feel his fingers, his saliva on your nipples, his mouth on your neck. Everything is so intense, so exciting that you can feel yourself getting closer and closer to orgasm.

"Please..." you whisper, imploring.

"What do you want?"

"I don't know..."

"Yes, you know what you want," he corrects you.

"Just tell me how you want me to make you scream.."

he asks you and you can feel the firmness in his arms.

"I don't know..." you admit.

"So tell me, how do you want me to do it?" he asks you.

"I don't know..."

"But you know what I want," he tells me. "You know I'm not going to stop until you scream like a bitch."

You can feel the sweat on your back, the heat on your cheeks. You feel more and more lost, more and more under his control.

"But I don't know..." you whimper a little.

"Just tell me you want me to put it in you," he says.

You say it, just like that, and without warning, he takes one of your legs and thrusts into you forcefully.

"Aaaaahhh..." you moan loudly as you feel him penetrate every inch of your pussy with his cock.

"Mmm...," he murmurs as he enters you over and over again. "You're so hot..."

You can feel how each thrust makes you moan louder. The sensation is so intense that you can feel the orgasm close.

"That's it... That's it..." you whisper, and I can feel the tears in your eyes. "I'm close..."

"That's right, we're going to make you scream like a little bitch," he says. "We're going to make sure you can't walk for several days..."

You can't respond, you just moan louder and louder as the orgasm approaches.

"That's it...", you whisper. "That's it..."

"That's a good girl..." he murmurs.

You let out one last loud moan and feel him release inside you.

You can feel his semen spilling inside your inner walls, how his cock shakes harder and harder inside you. You can feel every drop of semen spilling, each thrust slower than the last. You can feel that he has finished.

"That's it..." you whimper weakly as he pulls away from you.

He nods, the proud smile on his lips.

"That's it," he murmurs. "You are a good girl."

You look at him, breathless, and you feel small before him. You know it will always be this way. That you will always be under their control.

[rarepairdumpster]

Sugar Baby Silco AU Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2

Pairing: Viktor/Silco (Arcane) Rating: M C/W: Age Reversal, Sugar Daddy Viktor, Sex Worker Silco, NSFW, Disability, Aftercare, Some more Russian

Silco arches a brow as Viktor heaves himself out of bed, leaning a bit more heavily on his cane, and heads into the en suite

Viktor being determined to take care of his boy, despite feeling exhausted and sore, because Silco deserves a Daddy that will take care of him.

Silco following after him when he hears a stumble and a pained grunt, to find Viktor with a death grip on the sink AND his cane.

"Viktor," Silco questions, voice serious as he hurries to his side. "Please, allow me."

"You shouldn't have to take care of me," Viktor answers, voice soft and almost wounded. "I'm the one in the dominant position."

Silco frowns.

"The ones in charge need looking after too," Silco points out. "This is a give and take dynamic. It's mutual."

Silco slips under Viktor's arm and puts himself between him and the sink.

Cups Viktor's cheek.

"You take care of me daily, Viktor. Without this dynamic, I'd have been homeless months ago. Let me take care of you now."

Silco gives Viktor a peck on the lips and reaches for the face cloth folded up nearby.

Viktor being so taken aback. Because Silco never let on that he'd been struggling, not once, until now.

Silco turns on the faucet to the large bath and turns back to Viktor with a smile. "I think this will clean us both up just fine"

Once the tub is filled, Viktor eases himself into it first, closing his eyes as the heat sinks into his tired muscles. He opens them again when Silco slides into the tub with an easy grace and settles himself in front of Viktor, between his legs. Silco leans back, tilting his head to rest on Viktor's shoulder and kiss his jaw. 

"Good idea, dusha moya," Viktor sighs, turning his face to give Silco a tender kiss.

"What does that mean," Silco asks softly, curious.

And Viktor feels himself flush before he clears his throat and answers, "My soul."

Silco lets his fingertips trail along Viktor's legs as he ponders the translation. "Like a soulmate?"

Viktor chuckles a little. "Nothing that deep. I suppose we just like a little more drama in our words. When you don't know what the next day will bring, it's not worth it to be subtle."

Silco hums and kisses his jaw again. 

"Dusha moya," Silco mutters, smiling to himself.

Viktor grins at how well Silco mimics his accent

"I'll teach you more if you wish," Viktor offers as he lazily drags a washcloth along Silco's thighs and holds him close with the other hand.

"I'd like that. If I'm going to be your dusha moya, if I'm going to be in your life for a considerable time, I should be able to converse with you in your native language."

Viktor stills for a moment, focused on the implication of the words. "You wish to continue this, then? Even after you learned of my...limitations?"

Silco looks at him carefully, brows knitting together. 

"You thought I wouldn't?"

"Too many have looked at me and assumed I wanted a caretaker," Viktor explains. "That I was incapable of taking care of others myself."

Silco tips his head against Viktor's jaw.

"You're more than capable of taking care of me," Silco sighs, but his lips curl around a soft smile,"but we all have our limitations. We all need help sometimes. I'd like to think that if I were the one with a disability, you wouldn't be so quick to dismiss me either."

"Never," Viktor assures, tilting his face towards Silco. "I'll take care of you as long as I can." He captures Silco's lips in a kiss and trails his hand down Silco's taut stomach, letting his fingers slide along the waxed skin at the base of Silco's cock.

Silco hums his approval at those words and spends a few moments just kissing Viktor before asking, "Will I get to escort you at events in future or would you rather keep this more discreet? I don't mind either way, but I'd like to know if I need to update my wardrobe."

"I don't require discretion, but going public won't be easy on either of us," Viktor replies. "I'm sure you understand why I also kept my face hidden until now."

"I read Forbes," Silco smirks. "I understand if you prefer to take it slow in public."

"There will be an office and lab Christmas party," Viktor states after a short pause. "The event is private, so media presence will be minimal. But....it would mean being introduced to my colleagues, if that is alright."

"I think I can handle that," Silco replies. 

"I'll provide you a wardrobe stipend, of course," Viktor brushes his nose against Silco's temple. "Along with my tailor."

"You spoil me," Silco answers through a chuckle. He relaxes against Viktor fully, just appreciating his presence and the warmth of the tub. "I hope I've been able to spoil you just as much in other ways."

"Oh, terribly," Viktor smiles, luxuriating in the weight of Silco against him. "Will you allow me to continue to spoil you the rest of this weekend? Here, with me?"

"Depends," Silco says slyly. "Can we get room service?"

And then Silco adds "Can I raid the minibar?"

Viktor chuckles. "You can have whatever you like. I would give you the world, dusha moya"

"Excellent. I'm getting lobster."

Viktor laughs.

"Da, da, I know what it's like to want something you weren't able to afford before. I grew up dirt poor. Lobster was my first rich meal too."

Arch + Woods

[themoonbutspooky]

Psychiatric justice, reform of the current psychiatric system, and opposing medical abuse both as it intersects with psychiatric abuse and in general are all parts of anti-psychiatry. So is solidarity with all abuse victims and victims of medical mistreatment and ableism.

I’m still learning about the history and the specific politics of current anti-psych and related communities so I can only speak for what I mean when I say I’m anti-psychiatry and I hope OP, some-stars, the 23 other people who reblogged this and anyone else who sees this takes a moment to read what I have to say.

I do not want to take tools out of the hands of people trying to help themselves. I don’t want to take away anyone’s CBT work book or prozac prescription. I don’t even want to take people out of hospitals they want to be in. In fact I want medical insurance to cover cheaper easier less biased access to these tools.

The thing is I also want everyone to have access to everything else they need to make their own decisions about their well being. This includes information In a form they can most easily understand that is as accurate and complete as possible. It includes the time space and resources to process that information and make those decisions under as little economic and social pressure as possible.

It also includes the legal right to follow through on those decisions.

Psychiatry as a system does not share that last goal with me. One of the core purposes of psychiatry is to deny some people that legal right. You cannot separate psychiatry as a historical and present day practice from the hierarchal categorization of people. You cannot separate it from the emotional, physical and social harm caused by the enforcement of that hierarchy.

Say we were able to account for bias (racial, gendered, economic, etc) in diagnosis and treatment. Say Black men weren’t over diagnosed with schizophrenia compared to white peers with the same medical history and symptoms. Say racial and gender bias weren’t factors in the diagnosis of BPD which just so happens to be diagnosed more in Black women than other groups. Say we identify and eliminate completely bunk diagnosis like ODD. Say we’re on to the DSM twelve and all these specific issues have been resolved.

Unfairness would still be present in diagnosis and treatment because it didn’t arise from innocent scientific mistakes. Unfairness, psychiatric violence, and unequal access arise from an inherently and intentionally biased definition of what it means to be a person. A crazy person. A healthy person. An adult. A citizen.

Diagnosis aren’t strictly biological categories they are political ones. Psychiatrists hold the legal power to approve, deny, and force treatment based on those political categories. They are routinely called upon to do so for the sake of a political agenda.

Even if some individual psychiatrists, some offices or some organizations are doing good lifesaving work it is in spite of the structure as a whole not as a consequence of it.

Who is and isn’t “crazy” or “anxious” or “psychotic” or “suicidal” or “hysterical”? What counts as “Trauma”? How normal and acceptable are suicidal urges? intents? Actions? What do I owe to a suffering member of my community and what does my community owe me when I suffer? Whose job is it to fix and explain that suffering?

At their core these are questions about what it means to be a person and have a mind. Psychiatry is one framework that can be used to answer them. I don’t like the answers it’s come up with.

I’m anti-psychiatry because I’m committed to finding better answers.

i have zero fucking patience for "anti psychiatry" people. period. medical abuse exists everywhere. i agree that we need widespread medical reform. but by specifically targeting psychiatry you are regurgitating scientology talking points and perpetuating stigma about mental illness and psychiatric medication

[martyfive]

i know you prob get this all the time but WOWEEE YOUR ART IS SO FREAKING COOL LIKE THE COLOURS AND SHADING AND EVERYTHING!!!!

how is it so smooth???? the colours?? how do you decide on composition and contrast and stuff?? how do you add random colours to stuff and make it look good?? how do you make things look like their glowing??

lots of questions but your art is so cool and I cant stop looking at it!!!

i totally missed this ask, i’m sorry. thank you so much!! i don’t really know how to answer all of these questions and not write an autobiography no one asked for at the same time.

i remember i used to think something like “if i saw a cool art on the internet, how would it look like? what would i want to see? how can i create something i would wanna see?” when i was younger and it helped me too, somehow. to look at what other people do, to know what i wanna do, and to search for a golden medium.

and i’m still learning something new every day! it’s a work in progress! most of it comes from experience but i’m also very lucky to be a quick learner and have a high quality pattern recognition system in my head. now that’s a free gift from an anxiety disorder, hehe. i haven’t even finished my degree, most of what i do now i learned from my own mistakes. and if you’re not failing, then you’re not trying, you know? it mostly goes like “what if i try and do this, idgaf” by me and then i try and do exactly that. works wonders! even if it doesn’t, there’s always tomorrow to try again.

[justatypicalwizard]

Meta-isekai | K. Bakugo ✧ Act II Scene I

-`♡´- In which Bakugo gets isekaied into a shoyo romance. -`♡´-

Peak stupidity ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

Act II ༊*·˚

Scene I: Winning the martial arts competition (easy)

ʚɞ “Okay, so you said I’m a part of the martial arts club, yeah?” Bakugo whispered to The Cat sitting on his desk. He was currently getting ready for school and scheming the first move in their big plan.

“Yes, and there’s an upcoming event connected with it today.” The Cat answered, its tail drawing lazy circles in the air behind it.

“The school sports day, I’ve heard about it from others. I learned that the previous Katsuki signed up for tug of war.”

“Yes, but because you haven’t been to a training yet you don’t know that in the morning, during the sports day, you will be competing against other schools in the finale of the regional martial arts cup.”

This made Bakugo turn around and crook a brow. Getting to kick some asses early in the morning only to get to kick more asses in the afternoon? What a pleasure.

“Not a problem.” He shrugged.

“It will be extremely important. The school didn’t really gain any significant wins for a while now so everyone is rooting for your club to break the hoodoo. With my boost to luck Crush will also be watching.”

“Not a problem.” The blonde repeated turning back towards his wardrobe.

ʚɞ Certainly, winning the martial arts cup wasn’t a problem. Bakugo, although trained in many forms of contact force, refreshed his memory on the rules of the particular style that he was competing in. Finding the training clothes in a locker at school he went to extra-early training just before the cup. It was mostly good stretching, briefing about the strategy, pairing and rules, as well as some light combats to get the team into a fighting spirit.

ʚɞ Some of the faces of his teammates looked familiar, as if he saw them previously. They must have been people from his UA but from other classes, that he only passed on the corridors. Anyway, they all seemed to get along well while not being too intimate with each other.

ʚɞ Curious students quickly filled the gymnasium. Most were from UA, but there were also a bunch from other schools as guests cheering for their players. It was getting louder and louder up to the point when the overlooking coach began the competition.

ʚɞ No all of the present competitors were actually taking part. Some of them came as substitute players, others weaseled their way in to skip school. The chosen group was fairly slim, Bakugo being one of them.

ʚɞ All of his combats went quite quick, no one standing a change against him. It made the crowd cheer every time he stepped onto the mat. People pointed fingers at him, girls whispered and dudes clapped their hands loud every time he won.

ʚɞ When the cup was over, the medals were handed (gold for the blonde) and respects were paid, Bakugo got swarmed by his teammates and their friends.

“How did you do it? Did you get superpowers overnight?” One of his teammates laughed.

Some of them started to point out how shaken they were with his form. He was good, that’s why he played a part in the finale, but not that good! At one point the discussion got loud and out of Bakugo’s control. They started asking questions.

“I trained at home.” He gave them a white lie. He did train at home - back in his universe, with the thought of encountering actual villains, being in danger and relying his life solely on his skill and power. They didn’t need to know that part.

“Soo cool! Did the coach help you?”

“No, I’ve done it by myself. Just did some research.” He shrugged it off.

“But why didn’t you tell us?” Another one of his teammates, a rather thin guy who sat the whole tournament on the bench, asked.

This stirred some interest. You could have trained with us. We would all get better. You could have at least showed us where you learned all these things so we could try ourselves.

“Have you done it to be the best? Behind our backs?” The thin subsidiary crossed his arms on his chest.

All of them looked his way. Some had eyes wide, the thought never occurred to them but now, when it had been said aloud, it was the only scenario they could think about. Others glanced away and clammed up, they seemed to have expected it. Did the other Katsuki have had some quarrels with them before?

“Tell them you trained to impress someone.” Suddenly, Bakugo felt a weight on his shoulder. The Cat’s whiskers tickled his cheek. “She’s watching.”

From the corner of his eye he saw her, the Crush. Indeed she was standing with a group of friends, the same from the classroom Bakugo noted, and listening to the conversation. The quarrel must have created a small commotion. 

Bakugo shrugged to get The Cat off but it clawed his collarbone making the boy bite the inside of his cheek not to hiss in pain.

“Say it!”

“Is it true? Did you do it to outperform all of us?”

“Say it, she’s watching!”

“Don’t be silly, you’re accusing the person who gave our school a gold medal of training on his own, in his own free time? If anything, you should be ashamed you didn’t think about it yourself.” A guy too tall for his own good (and his back) smirked and pointed an accusatory finger towards the slim subsidiary.

At that time nobody, including Bakugo, knew that the tall guy, in a green shirt with the number 10 on the front and back, was a secret fan of the explosive blonde. The previous Katsuki might have recognised him. Number 10 tried to join the martial arts club but his physics were not the best for such a sport. The coach did try him out but soon they both realised he was not meant to be. At that time he shrugged it off as too-tall-for-this but in reality he was too-lazy-for-this.

Number 10 was not eager enough to overcome the weaknesses that made him a mediocre individual sports’ player. Instead he opted for disciplines where one competed with a team, a team that would make up for his imperfections. He was fine with it. He was tall and had long arms which gave him a headstart in basketball. Still, Number 10 admired people who could become stars on their own. It was a jealousy free type of admiration. Adding his natural nonchalance to the mixture, he had no problem standing up for Bakugo.

“I’m not even surprised he didn’t tell the team. Everybody knows that your manager has a boyfriend in a different school and she tells him all the juicy stuff. If I were Bakugo I wouldn’t want the enemy team to learn about my technique either.”

Another thing that nobody, including Bakugo, knew about Number 10, and what saved the day, was that he was a massive gossip.

“That’s true. Sorry.” Someone caught up with the basketball player and the air shifted from anger and disappointment to cheers and back slaps once again. 

“So, did you really train on your own to win for us?” His teammates pried.

“Hah, as if I ever told you nerds!” He clicked his tongue but smirked.

It was not meant to be mean but cocky, playful. The blonde had no clue what the other Bakugo was up to but now he was in town and he will simply be himself until he achieves his goal. Grabbing his water bottle he sprayed some of it on his hand and combed the wet fingers through his hair making it slick for a moment.

“I’m out.” Bakugo threw over the shoulder as he turned towards Crush as her group of friends only to walk through them with a short glance her way. It made everyone turn around a watch as he exited the gymnasium into the sunny day outside.

Katsuki didn’t know what happened behind his back, whether they were still looking the way he disappeared, if they were talking between each other about him, did the girl blush even? It didn’t matter though, he’s done his part and done it sharp, on point.

The Cat sat on a fence in the distance, its lazy swaying black tail caught Bakugo’s eyes. It gave him a thumbs up. 

Tag list: @ita606 @blueberrysoaps @bakunianadecorazon

[reapersmarch]

Hi! I'm helping Cigs out and posting some asks on his behalf because of how many people signed up, see as follows 💖:

Hello! Thank you for signing up for my little fandom project. Like I mentioned in my post, these will be once a month character building/exploration questions. I don't expect immediate answers. Feel free to take the whole month, if you need! If you have more than one Step, pick your favorite or whichever you think needs more love.

We're going to start with the basics this month: Where did your Sidestep get your name? Do they know what it means? Do they feel any particular way about their name?

-Cigs

HIII AURRIE AND CIGS ty for doing this it's really kind of u and fun!!

so initially this was a fucking joke answer but now it's basically canon lol but he saw an interview with one direction in a magazine once and of all the names of the members, decided he liked niall the best LMAOFNJSFJWJ he doesn't know shit about fuck re: his name, guy who learned a lot of his mannerisms from watching media which, I mean, aided in his ability to act a part. valentine he picked because it sounded nice and also because lil homie gay ass is obsessed with the idea of love. doesn't think it can happen to him in any capacity, but still loves the very idea.

he doesn't really think much about his name these days anymore, honestly. it so rarely gets used. he's called any and everything under the sun - bel, red, babybel, valentine - BUT niall. he doesn't really think of himself as that anymore. he doesn't really think of himself period, but because no one actually USES his chosen name, he doesn't think of himself as niall anymore.

in some ways, it's another method of dehumanization - stripping of your chosen identity and instead becoming all the identities that others have assigned to you. bel isn't really His name. it was given to him by someone else while the name that he chose for himself fades into obscurity. makes u think...

[vulpinesaint]

Hi, I wanted to ask you how you make your quizzes. They’re beautiful and chilling, but more importantly they’re right. I’ve never had any answer tug on my heartstrings in a way that feels so personal like these

hi, my love! first of all, thank you. as to being right: i've talked about it elsewhere, but i'm really fond of the joke my friends made about quizzes being the equivalent of tarot for me. i think it's apt, both in the way that i manage to pull at some specific emotional strings and in the way that the person who gets the results gives those words meaning for themself :) if you want to live in a delightful fantasy world with me you can believe that i am a little bit psychic... i have loved doing this kind of thing forever though. in middle school i used to make little fortune tellers that would be like. different desserts as the final options. and i was always right with those too haha

to be really honest, though, i don't think there's a huge trick to it! i'm only writing about nine possible results for people to end up with, so i keep them as kind of general archetypes. are they a little specific and personal! um! yes! but you know what i mean. when an answer pulls from an idea of giving too much of yourself or a fear of never being loved or never being seen, those are very personal, but they're personal to different people in different ways. hence why it's so important that the reader gives the words a meaning that is personal to them :) plus the more specific you are the more people will pop up to tell you that their result was NOT meaningful to them. which. hey man. there are only nine results and also i am writing a personality quiz on the internet i am not going to rip someone's soul out every time <3 only most of the time <3

once you've got the results though it's just. assigning them to answers. i don't write questions with anything specific in mind rlly and results get assigned to answers based on vibes <3 in my head i am looking at the possible answers for a question and going "okay... the type of person who would end up with [ insert result here ]... which answer feels like one they would choose..." and sometimes it's a matter of optimistic vs. pessimistic answers and sometimes it's a matter of okay well. i think this is more of a lilac answer than a sunflower haha (which... again... if you want to live in my beautiful world... play in the space with me... i like to believe that i am following a little bit of an innate sense there... but it could all just come down to pattern recognition in the end <3). i really wish i had something more helpful to say but i really think it is writing about a specific yet widely-applicable issue and then following the vibes. none of this stops me from getting clocked over the head with my own quizzes either. took the last one going "haha i don't even know what answer i would get! maybe the chalice?" and then i got the statue and i had to sit and stare at my screen for a while. local man gets called out for being a perfectionist to the point of detracting from the joy of the art itself by one of the various projects where he has detracted from the joy of the art itself by insisting that it's not good enough it's not precise enough it's not exact enough. anyway. time to go back to being really incredibly normal about my poetry grad school apps

[cerbreus]

meeting w the transfer admin went well!

[ruelpsen]

If I had to choose between cutting off my hand and redoing grad school apps, I'd seriously consider the hand. Be gentle with yourself, it's a fucking slog. What kind of program are you looking into?

Thank you for the reminder to be gentle. This shit has been stressful, and having for various reasons only about a month and a half to actually do focused work on applying has SUCKED. Not looking forward to potentially having to do this again in the future (it's complicated but I'll explain why in a sec), but I am SO looking forward to two weeks from now when these applications are in and it's out of my hands, as much as the waiting game itself sucks in its own way.

As for programs, I don't want to get too specific. I was a double major in undergrad, and I'm not exaggerating when I say I've literally never met anyone else with those two specific majors. (Ftr one is a STEM field and the other in the humanities.) I want to keep studying both in some capacity in the future, but to make a long story short I'm stuck in a position where I have to hold off on applying to the program in the humanities for now.

As annoyed as I am about the 'long story' part of that, I'm totally fine with prioritizing the program in STEM for now. Hell, in some ways that's a good thing given the limited amount of time I have to work on applications. But at the same time, I've greatly limited the number of schools I'm applying to so I can focus on creating well-tailored applications for their specific programs and faculty, and that means each potential rejection would leave me with a far smaller share of options. It's a bit of a risk, but damn it I'm trying my best to show how strong of a student I've been and that I would work well with their specific people. Hopefully things work out in the end.

I hope your own efforts have paid off too, wherever life has taken you.

[that-was-anticlimactic]

friends!!! what is a writing skill you wish you learned in school? like... it could be something specific in grammar/grammar-related, maybe about how to revise, maybe you wish you learned about different/specific genres, maybe how to write setting... whatever it may be!!! i'm doing a thing on tuesdays and would LOVE y'all's opinions on what kind of stuff to find to add for them to choose!