#part of it is the tactile feeling of making it is very different and i cannot adjust to that.

[ranticore]

How dexterous are phocid hands? I I know they’re fully capable of various works like weaving, intricate tattoos and stone carvings but is there any special aid they use to do this or are they comparable to a typical human and improve with practice and time at a similar rate to us? I’m wondering things like how writing utensils and other tools are shaped! I imagine a pencil would look different for lots of different creatures.

Phocids are actually quite unique among sirenians because their hands are, mechanically, completely unaltered human hands. They've got a blubber layer and different skin composition but the hand bones and the ability to grip and manipulate tools are completely comparable to a human hand of the same size. When the aquatic Sirenians were being engineered, phocids' hands were not changed from the basic human blueprint because there was no need; they were models of tail-driven aquatic locomotion.

^ phocid hands. They have four fingers each consisting of three phalanges, an opposable thumb with two phalanges, and fingernails (fingernails are very important for tool manipulation). because phocid hands are not really designed to bear weight despite them being quadrupedal, they can suffer from wrist and elbow pain if they spend a lot of time on land.

when working with slender tools they would need expanded grips (like the padded pencil grips you can get to reduce wrist pain)

Just to see what I could come up with I made an ink-pen with an expanded bowl for phocids to grip onto. The bulb part is the refillable ink reservoir. Obviously this type of writing cannot be done underwater. I think most writing utensils would need to be adapted to phocid hands not because of how they work mechanically but just because of their size.

Underwater, the main writing system is woven. Signs are made using knotted and interwoven lengths of waterweed which can be read at a glance, but also read by touch, as well. This is important to phocids because their necks are quite long, their arms are quite short, and sometimes they can't actually look at what their hands are doing. So most reading and writing is done without even looking; they make a cat's cradle kind of web of fibres and knit out a message. sitting back to read a nice book is, for a phocid, a matter of unrolling a tapestry scroll and running it between their fingers to feel the tactile woven pattern.

[esleep]

i wish i could figure out how to enjoy digital art because there are so many things about it that seem SO NICE and i love the results when other people make it, but i have just never had a good time with it. traditional physical mediums don't ever look as nice in posts but they are all i enjoy making so oh well!!

[bredforloyalty]

i had a good day i like having things to do but unfortunately i have just remembered i am insane</3

[maelancoli]

Writing Intimacy

i often see writers sharing a sentiment of struggling with writing kiss scenes which honestly bleeds into other portrayals of physical intimacy. i see it a lot in modernized styles of writing popularized by the recent trend in publishing to encourage short, choppy sentences and few adverbs, even less descriptive language. this makes intimacy come across awkward, like someone writing a script or clumsy recounting of events rather than a beautiful paragraph of human connection.

or just plane horniness. but hey, horny doesn't have to be mutually exclusive with poetic or sensual.

shallow example: they kissed desperately, tongues swirling and she moaned. it made her feel warm inside.

in depth example: she reached for the other woman slowly and with a small measure of uncertainty. the moment her fingers brushed the sharp, soft jaw of her companion, eliza's hesitance slid away. the first kiss was gentle when she finally closed the distance between them. she pressed her lips lightly to gabriella's in silent exploration. a tender question. gabriella answered by meeting her kiss with a firmer one of her own. eliza felt the woman's fingers curling into her umber hair, fingernails scraping along her scalp. everything inside eliza relaxed and the nervousness uncoiled from her gut. a warm buzz of energy sunk through her flesh down to the very core of her soul. this was right. this was always where she needed to be.

the first complaint i see regards discomfort in writing a kiss, feeling like one is intruding on the characters. the only way to get around this is to practice. anything that makes you uncomfortable in writing is something you should explore. writing is at its best when we are pushing the envelope of our own comfort zones. if it feels cringy, if it feels too intimate, too weird, too intrusive, good. do it anyway! try different styles, practice it, think about which parts of it make you balk the most and then explore that, dissect it and dive into getting comfortable with the portrayal of human connection.

of course the biggest part comes to not knowing what to say other than "they kissed" or, of course, the tried and true "their lips crashed and their tongues battled for dominance" 😐. so this is my best advice: think beyond the mouth. okay, we know their mouths are mashing. but what are their hands doing? are they touching one another's hair? are they scratching or gripping desperately at one another? are they gliding their hands along each other's body or are they wrapping their arms tightly to hold each other close? do they sigh? do they groan? do they relax? do they tense? are they comfortable with each other or giddy and uncertain? is it a relief, or is it bringing more questions? is it building tension or finally breaking it?

get descriptive with the emotions. how is it making the main character/pov holder feel? how are they carrying those emotions in their body? how do they feel the desire in their body? desire is not just felt below the belt. it's in the gut, it's in the chest, it's in the flushing of cheeks, the chills beneath the skin, the goosebumps over the surface of the flesh. everyone has different pleasure zones. a kiss might not always lead desire for overtly sexual touches. a kiss might lead to the desire for an embrace. a kiss might lead to the impulse to bite or lick at other areas. a kiss could awaken desire to be caressed or caress the neck, the shoulder, the back, the arms etc. describe that desire, show those impulses of pleasure and affection.

of course there is the tactile. what does the love interest taste like? what do they smell like? how do they kiss? rough and greedy? slow and sensual? explorative and hesitant? expertly or clumsily? how does it feel to be kissed by them? how does it feel to kiss them?

i.e. examine who these individuals are, what their motives and feelings are within that moment, who they are together, what it looks like when these two individuals come together. a kiss is not about the mouth. it's about opening the door to vulnerability and desire in one's entire body and soul.

[cripplecharacters]

what are the top 5 things you'd like to see a disabled character do in a story?

Hey! This is a very vast question and a lot of it would depend on the character's actual disability - I have completely different wishlists for what I'd like to see intellectually disabled characters do versus what I'd like to see characters with facial differences do. Different stereotypes and tropes affect different groups of disabled people differently - to work with this fact, the below list will try to account for as large amount of disabled character as I can reasonably think of, but it won't have as much detail as you might want. If you have a specific kind of character in mind, feel free to send another ask.

Not in specific order:

Disabled characters being in love. Disabled x disabled, disabled x abled, disabled x very different kind of disabled, all these variants but including more than 2 characters (since I've yet to see a polyamorous disabled character), all of this.

And I mean in actual relationships, not the pitiful and devoid of actual chemistry thing that we usually get (think "really sad disabled man only becomes happy after an abled woman takes pity on him, but they never kiss or god forbid have sex because that's gross and the disableds surely don't do that anyway").

I want to see an interabled couple going through IVF because they want to have kids, a wife with hemiplegia getting to grow old and wrinkly with her autistic husband, a lesbian with Treacher Collins syndrome moving in with her chronically ill girlfriend after a month of knowing each other, DeafBlind men getting hands on each other in the bathroom of a shitty nightclub, a trans woman with autism asking out a trans man with Down syndrome via her AAC tablet, a neurotypical guy with an obvious crush on his classmate with cerebral palsy.

I want to actually see disabled people being shown as desirable partners, good parents and grandparents, potential crushes, going through some new feelings and going on both good and bad dates, from all walks of life, of all sexualities and genders. Just like abled people.

Disabled characters participating in their community. Especially severely and/or visibly disabled characters. This is obviously a concept as vague as it could possibly be, but a big problem with a lot of disabled characters is that they don't... do anything. Not in the sense that they aren't "active enough", but that they aren't really... characters. They're often reduced to a family member who's at home and maybe the abled character takes care of them sometimes, but that's seemingly all that happens; they have no interests, hobbies, agency, preferences, or an internal thought process. All they do is wait for an abled savior to do something to them, not even with them.

I want to see more disabled characters who have jobs (whether it's a "regular" job, a supported employment workplace, a creative job that maybe they can only do a few hours a week, or self-care as a full-time job kind of thing), participating in hobbies that are accessible and/or modified to their ability level, emailing or sending pigeon letters to their friends, trying out new stuff that they're interested in, having actual complex relationships with their caregivers. Anything to actually make them feel like characters that exist in their setting, not just cardboard cutouts that the author had no ideas for.

Disabled characters who are a part of real-world disability (and adjacent) culture. Obviously also a vast topic. Most disabled characters, regardless of setting, are completely separated from concepts that were made by disabled people for disabled people; usually the connection to disability is their actual medical condition and a sterile mobility aid. This is not incorrect or bad to represent since that describes a lot of people, but I'd like to simply see more variety.

I want to see disabled characters who do parasports, who are excited about tactile art, went to blind/Deaf/SPED schools, call themselves #a babe with a mobility aid, decorate their AAC device, learn about disabled history, experience Feelings when hearing that Neanderthals cared about their disabled children, go to disability-centric events or support groups to meet people similar to them.

Do all disabled people do these? Absolutely not, but I'd like for even 1% of fictional characters to represent those who do.

Yeah I just want more disabled characters doing sports. As in real-life sports that real-life disabled people do, apologies to all the fantasy swordfighting that's out there.

There are so many sports out there we can do, some are adapted, some have a sitting or wheelchair version, while others were made specifically for us. Team sports are such a good opportunity to have your character have a community of people like them, have interesting dynamics, yet the only anything I can think of that's about it is REAL by Takehiko Inoue (wheelchair basketball) and the art by @/gayaest / @/sproutwiki (sitting volleyball). Also some Paralympics documentaries that I can count on a single hand - there's like three of them.

I want to see characters who are starting out and really suck at their sport, ones who are decent, ones with ridiculous sports-anime-level over the top abilities. I want to see all kinds of sports done by all kinds of disabled characters; blind kids learning goalball with their blind parents, quadriplegic guys working their ass off to qualify for national murderball championships, folks using sticker-covered bright-pink ramps in their boccia games, people with POTS playing along with their abled partner on their wheelchair rugby league team, standing fencers becoming disabled and adapting to wheelchair fencing that they love just as much. More disabled people having fun, knowing other disabled people, having interests!

Also, parasports are just cool as fuck and interesting to both watch and read about.

Disabled characters getting to make bad decisions. Disability representation is often extremely black-and-white in terms of morality: the character is either an angel who always does the right thing and talks about being grateful a lot, or the character is comically evil, wanting revenge because of their disability, hating their disability, constantly in grief and anger since not a single mildly ok thing happened to them since they became disabled. Neither of these feel like real people.

Disabled characters should be able to say hurtful things, get mad, lie, and whatever else, without being demonized to hell for it the same way abled characters are. They should be allowed to consciously make a decision that they shouldn't take (also known as "dignity of risk" in context of disability). They should get the same consequences for mistakes as everyone else and need to have the opportunities to actually make them.

In a much shorter way: more complex disabled characters.

These are things that I'd enjoy seeing for disabled characters. But the main thing would probably be that I want more of them. The scope of disabled characters in media is so painfully narrow because there's so few of them + they're usually capped at one per series. More writing featuring multiple disabled people please.

Here is a list of wishes from other mods who wanted me to throw them here:

Disabled characters who act like the author did more than a 10 min google search about their disabilities. [So authors doing actual research.]

More disabled characters of color. A lot of time disabled characters are white because it's only acceptable for them to be one kind of marginalized. In real life that's not how it works. People of color are disabled too!

Characters with comorbidities, characters with physical and mental health and developmental symptoms. Disability doesn't just come with one cut and dry disorder all the time - you can even be diagnosed with some things and undiagnosed with others.

[A character can have 5 comorbidities, or 5 completely unrelated disabilities - both happen. Or, most frequently, a bit of both.]

Characters existing in all parts of their diagnostic journey. [So characters who are yet to be diagnosed, currently investigating their symptoms, ones recently diagnosed, and ones who had their diagnosis for their whole lives - and as mentioned previously, you can be on one stage with disability A, and on another with disability B.]

Characters whose whole life isn't just tragedy/struggle! See this a lot when a story with disabled character is just about how life is hard for them as disabled person. Would love disabled characters being leads in other genres and just existing as people. Not to say disability isn't a struggle, but there is more to life and person than disability.

mod Sasza

[avocado-writing]

Hello! I had an idea for a request involving a genderfluid reader/Tav if you'd be comfortable with that. I was thinking about how all the romanceable companions are bi/pansexual and started thinking about a Tav who can change their sex at will (using magic), so they can switch between being male, female and intersex whenever they want. I like to imagine the companions finding out and being very bisexual about it lol

So if you could write some headcanons for that with the origin companions + Halsin, I'd be super grateful! Take care and have a good day! ^-^

Astarion is utterly unbothered. however you physically appear to him, he is totally smitten with you, so it doesn't matter to him. in fact, he finds it fun to play tricks on people if you have much of a physical difference when presenting as male and female, you can probably pull some swindles in Baldur's Gate using twin tomfoolery...

Gale is fascinated, asking you lots of questions about how your body changes, how it feels, making detailed notes. he loves to look at you in detail, exploring it tactilely with his hands, finding out what makes you giggle and teasing you in each body. he could spend hours doing it, in the name of 'research'...

Wyll writes poems for you in each body you show him. he likes to have a few verses ready to go to celebrate your beauty no matter how you look. if he's duke he always finds it funny when you change yourself and confuse the older, stuffy types, but his very favourite thing to do is to kiss you no matter how you look ❤️

Karlach is equally pleased when you're in a petite body and she can pick you up, but totally overwhelmed when you change into a larger form and can pick her up! she squeals in glee as you flex your muscles and lift her, spinning her like a princess and giving her a big kiss. she absoloutely melts into you!

Lae'zel is fascinated, asking as many questions as her proud nature will allow. as your body changes she makes remarks about what she finds most pleasing about it, be it broad shoulders, long legs, smooth stomach. when you lay down together she worships each of these parts of you for as long as you'll let her...

Shadowheart pretends she doesn't care - and she doesn't, but your changing body does affect her. she gets hot and bothered when you switch, always finding some new part of you to admire or enjoy, loving to relax in whatever pleasure your body that day can give to her... and you're always happy to experiment.

Halsin is used to a changing in his wildshape, but finds your ability to change sex fascinating. he suggests some wild ways that the two of you can get freaky, if you'd enjoy it. we've seen the bear scene. he doesn't stop there. he wants to bring you all kinds of pleasure in all kinds of bodies, and who are you to deny him...

[mochie85]

I'll Follow You

One Shot Masterlist | Complete Masterlist

Summary: You came back to the compound, a year later after you left to make your own career, and you are worried about meeting Loki with how things ended when you left. Pairing: Romantic!Loki x OC Female Reader (Foxglove is her Superhero alias.) Word Count: Over 5.3k Warnings: Explicit. Fluff. Angst. Smut. Oral (female receiving). Shadowplay. Hallucinations.

Loki flipped through the magazine at a hurried pace, not looking at the photos or any of the articles. His hands needed something tactile to do. Or else, he feared, he might choke someone with them.

He paused when he saw an advertisement for a watch you were modeling for. There you were—a close-up of your beautiful face. Your eyes were bright and round. Your lips were dewy and sensual. Norns, he missed those lips. Especially when they were wrapped around his…

Ugh. Why can’t I stop thinking of her?! Loki snarled under his breath as he threw the magazine halfway across the room. It landed on the floor right by Sam’s feet. “You dropped this!” Sam said picking it up from the floor. He held it up in the air, not even looking, his attention fully absorbed on the TV screen.

Everyone had gathered to watch the talk show you were appearing on tonight. They couldn’t wait to see you come out and gossip about your life or inconsequential things. The entire team supported you in your decision to leave and start your acting career—everyone, except him.

Loki wanted to leave the room. He should’ve left and not agreed to come and watch the show with the others. He was about to stand up when-

“Shh. Shh. Guys quiet down. Here she is!” Wanda said shushing the entire room.  Loki watched the enormous television, enraptured. The camera panned over to the audience, their loud applause and cheers were deafening. Signs and pictures were held up from a time when you were an Avenger. He couldn’t help but sink further into his chair and get caught up with your grace once again.

“So, Foxglove- can I still call you Foxglove?” The host asked as you sat down.

“Of course, you can,” you beamed at the man behind the desk.

“I- I don’t know the protocol for these things. Do you get to keep the name even though you’re not an Avenger anymore?”

Your practiced laugh showed through your gritted teeth. “It doesn’t work exactly like that. Foxglove is the name I gave myself. I had it with me when I started with the Avengers and took it with me when I left. It wasn’t a title or anything.”

“And did they just let you leave? I would think it was like being in the mafia. ‘You know too many of our secrets. We can’t let you out alive!’ sorta thing,” the host said, thinking he was being clever.

“My friends and colleagues have all been supportive. And I remain in close contact with most of them.”

‘Most of them.’ That statement swirled the emotions Loki was feeling inside. He was not one of those who supported you and was very vocal about it. The fact that you still keep in contact with almost everyone here left him envious.

“And that’s actually part of the reason why I’m here tonight,” you continued. “My dear friend Tony, whom many of you know as Ironman- again, not a title…” you chuckled. “…Is throwing his annual charity gala this spring. This year he decided to make it a month-long occasion with different charities and events happening once a week culminating in the yearly gala at the end of the month.”

“That’s wonderful! That’s all he does when he’s not out saving the world, is party, huh?” the host said looking straight into the camera.

“Asshole!” Tony sassed under his breath, earning a few chuckles from the team.

“And what exactly is your part in this month-long event?” The host asked you.

“Well, I plan to raise money for The Nature Conservancy here in New York. I ask everyone to come and help us plant new trees or donate. Every dollar will be matched, and we can help restore some of the forests, in other parts of the country.”

“The Nature Conservancy is a special organization for you, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it’s where I first worked. It’s where I first started noticing my powers.”

“Your powers are amazing! You can talk to plants!”

“Well, it’s a lot more complicated than that,” you said with restraint. “Chlorokinesis allows me to excel a plant’s growth to a thousand times what they normally can. I can also enhance their natural defenses and abilities. And like my namesake, Foxglove, I can give you hallucinations when touched.”

“Can we get a demonstration?” the host asked to the cheers of his audience. You reached out to touch him “No, no, no!” he said nervously. “I don’t need any more hallucinations right now!” you both chuckled. “Thank you. But maybe you can make a flower grow?” he suggested, and the audience cheered you on.

“Sure, of course,” you smiled, happily. You rotated your wrists and flicked them around, gesturing for a plant to grow from the host’s wooden desk. The branches wrapped around itself forming a steady trunk. Soon the branches grew out further and further. Blooming wisterias in varying colors began to sprout, amazing the audience.

You used to be unstoppable. You used to tear down enemies left and right, numbing them with your visions before you cut them down and made them regret opposing you. Now you do party tricks for the camera so you can get a laugh from people who don’t care about you. Who didn’t even love you! Loki was furious.

Once again, Loki made to get up. He was almost through the exit of the room when he heard the next question that made him stop.

“So, Foxglove, will you be attending these events alone?” The audience ‘ooh’d’ at the question when the host decided to get a little more personal. “I heard you were cozying up to a certain superhero. Do you like those types? Do you have a type? What does Foxglove look for in a partner?”

You laughed embarrassedly. “These rumors! I swear they pair me up with someone new each week.”

“Oh, but you were seen leaving a nightclub with your costar, Superman himself, Henry Cavil.” The photo was put up on the screen. A picture of the two of you laughing in front of a busy club as Henry gingerly put his arm around your shoulders. The entire room of Avengers whooped and hollered cheering you on.

“We were celebrating. We had just wrapped our movie and it was my first time in London. So, Henry just wanted to show me around. Very friendly. All platonic.” You smiled, blushing. Loki noted that blush. I’ll break him like a twig!

“Ok. Ok. What about your former colleague, Loki of Asgard?” The host asked as a picture of the two of you replaced the one on the screen.

It was a photo taken when the two of you had gotten back from a mission. You had failed and cried about it on the flight back. Loki was wiping the tears from your face, trying to cheer you up. You didn’t know the PR department was there taking shots as all of you disembarked off the jet.

The camera cut back to you and you blushed harder. Once again, Loki noted that blush. He let out a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding and swallowed. Does she miss me too?

“Loki and I have remained good friends. I look forward to seeing him again,” you told the host.

Lies. Not a single word was exchanged between the two of you since you left. The last words you said to him were “I hate you! I never want to see you again!” Loki couldn’t detect any falsehood when you screamed those words at him. That hurt the most.

Everyone turned to where Loki was standing. Some, like Thor, were smiling. Mostly everyone else was shocked.

“What?!” Loki snapped back at them, making everyone turn back to the television.

“Oh! Did you hear that? She wants to see him again.” The host embarrassed you. Your powers grew erratic as a new sprout of branches grew from the tree.

The whole audience was eating it up, clapping. You tried to hide behind your hand, but the different cameras provided different angles of your mortification.

“Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for Foxglove, everybody!” The host said pointing towards you clapping. You laughed and waved at the audience as Wisteria petals fell from the ceiling.

Weeks later, you sat in the back of a Maybach that Tony hired to chauffer you to the gala. This year it would be held at the compound which garnered more donations because everyone wanted to see inside the heavily guarded facility. Your intricate beaded dress fit you snuggly and covered you from shoulders to toe. It ensured that no one would accidentally come in contact with your skin. Especially with how crowded Tony’s parties got. The only wrinkle was from all the times you’ve grabbed it in anxiousness and wrung the fabric.

Why did I let Tony talk me into this?! I should’ve faked sick or something! What if Loki’s there? Of course, he’s there. Where else would he be? What if he doesn’t want to see me again? What if he has a date?! Maybe I should’ve invited Henry? No, no. He’d get the wrong idea. Just drop in, say your hellos, then leave. I don’t have to stay. I’m a grown adult. I can do what I want! FUCK! What if Loki comes and talks to me?

Once past the gates, the car crawled through a winding road with lanterns adorning the pathway. The car stopped at the front steps of the Avenger’s compound and you could hear the heavy bass of the music pounding through the car windows as bright lights and lasers littered the night sky.

You made your way through security to the massive, yet highly decorated, quinjet hangar and a sweeping staircase that descended to an impressive room below. You smiled, reminiscing about all the parties and events you attended as an Avenger- sweet memories that erased the worry you had when you were in the car. Picking up your gown, you gracefully descended the staircase. Keeping your eyes trained on the steps below, you tried not to look around, to look for him.

“Fox! I can’t believe you’re here!” Wanda shrieked as she ran up to you. She squeezed your sleeved arm and pressed her cheek on your shoulder.

“I’ve missed you, Wanda!” you said kissing the top of her hair.

“Come on. Everyone’s here- well, almost everyone,” she corrected herself. “We haven’t seen you in so long. Everyone wants to catch up.” She led you along to the bar where you were greeted by your former teammates. You were grateful that Loki wasn’t among them. He always loved these parties. You actively refused invites the past year just to avoid him. Awkward hugs and pleasantries were shared. Drinks were offered along with your first few dances promised to Sam and Wanda.

After hours of conversations with the team, and some drinks with Tony, you fell back into a sense of belonging and family. You didn’t realize how much you missed your friends here. How much you missed being an Avenger. It got so lonely most nights not having anyone to talk to. At least here, you would have had Nat or Bucky to train with in the middle of the night.

Or Loki to keep you company.

You groaned internally. You couldn’t help but be on edge all night, thinking about him and wondering if Loki was ever going to show up.

Before leaving for the night, you excused yourself to get some fresh air. There was a greenhouse in the back glades of the compound that you frequented most nights just to be alone. You used to make the hedges grow all around, giving you a private garden away from the rest of the world.

Inside, it was as if you had never left. The plants stood tall as if to greet you. Bright flowers bloomed in different colors as if in competition to win your adoration. And in the back corner, hidden behind large monstera plants, was a cove of plush blankets and chairs that you hid from anyone ever finding. Everyone except, “Loki?”

Loki sat in the rattan chair; his legs crossed reading a magazine with your picture on the cover. He looked as breathtaking as the first time you saw him, like trouble and a promise all wrapped up in his pressed monochromatic black suit. His mischievous smile appeared, tempting you closer.

“Hello, Foxglove,” he greeted you. His voice sending shivers down your spine. Fight or flight? Fight or flight? You kept repeating in your head.

“I…didn’t know this spot was taken. I won’t bother you. Goodnight,” you hastily said as you turned to leave.

“Wait!” he cried standing up. You could feel him grab hold of your wrist. You looked down to see his shadow holding on to you like a dear friend, shadow to skin. It’s been so long since you’ve been touched. It’s been so hard to be intimate with anyone because of your body’s defense mechanism. And here was Loki, the only man who figured out a loophole to your little enigma.

“I just wanted to say…” Loki paused, staring only into your eyes. “Y-you look beautiful tonight.” You pulled your hand away from his shadow and stayed quiet. “I saw you. We… the team… saw you on the talk show. You’ve done amazing things this past year. One movie, a television show, countless endorsements.”

“Still don’t think I can make it?” you challenged.

“Fox, it was never about that!” he argued. His sudden outburst propelled him like a predator. He stalked his way closer to you, making you back into the glass wall of the greenhouse. You caught whiffs of his cologne mixed with the tropical scent of the flowers all around you. He stopped when he realized he had alarmed you. “I should not have advanced on you so quickly. I apologize.”

“It’s all right. Just habit, I guess.” You were always conscious of people touching you and getting too close. You never wanted to be the cause of their hallucinations. Loki felt relieved that he hadn’t scared you off. His shadow stood ahead of him, rubbing your arm with the back of his fingertips, trying to mollify your anxiousness.

Loki watched and waited as you settled. Jealousy festered in his body at the sight of his shadow being able to comfort you and he couldn’t. “You look… breathtaking, by the way.” He tried to soothe.

“You already said that,” you said curtly, blushing. Loki loved your blush. He loved getting under your skin and teasing you.

“Is your new lover here with you tonight? Got sick of the real superheroes, had to get yourself a pretend one?” he tried deflecting. Loki smirked looking through the glass and out to the party to see if he could spot Cavill.

“As I recall, you wanted nothing to do with me once I stepped foot out of your room,” you said quoting him from the last time you spoke. “So, it’s none of your business whether or not Henry and I are together.”

“But you are…together?” he asked. His stare was unwavering, demanding an answer to his desperate question.

“I don’t need this right now!” You were angry and speechless. He doesn’t have the right to question your life’s choices especially when he wanted no part of them in the first place.

You moved to get away from his shadow’s hold and out of the greenhouse. Loki followed you close. “Fox, please. Stop.”

“Why are you even here, Loki?” you called back, briskly walking towards the exit. “You knew this was- This was my spot. MY SPOT!” you yelled, turning abruptly towards him.

“Because I wanted a chance to talk to you in private! Without the cameras or the paparazzi. Without some life-or-death mission hanging over our heads. I needed to see your face again, without all these people trying to steal your attention away from me.” He stopped and watched you reach for the door to go outside. “I’m sorry, Vixen.”

Vixen.

Feelings you thought you had buried deep down inside of you started to resurface. All because of that name he used. The one he would whisper as he called for you in his arms late at night. The name he used when he made you laugh so hard the only way to stop you was to kiss you.

The one name he knew would stop you in your tracks… because it was the one name he used when he was about to touch you himself.

“I am sorry if I ever made you feel…”

“Unworthy? Incapable? Useless?!” you turned as you accused him.

“Unwanted,” he finished.

Real tears fell down your face now. Loki cupped your cheek and wiped it away with his thumb. You could feel the heat in his touch. The energy. You’ve felt it with his shadow, but there was always something electrifying and passionate when Loki touched you himself.

It was a luxury to feel this connection with someone. To feel the warmth from his fingers. The callouses in his palms. You imagined feeling his soft lips on you once again until you stopped yourself. It was a dangerous path to have such expectations right now. You opened your teary eyes to find Loki watching you.

His eyes darted around to your surroundings before he closed them and tried to focus back on you. “You are very much wanted, Vixen. I just couldn’t admit to myself how much I wanted you back then.”

He opened his eyes to yours. The swirl of emotion in them was breathtaking. It was then that you saw his true face for the first time. His emotions. His thoughts. He was stripped of his armor and his pretenses. You felt as if you two were the only thing that existed in that time and space. As if he were holding his life, right there cupped in between his hands.

Your heart pounded in your ears as he continued his confession. “I am a jealous god. You know this. I didn’t want to share you with anybody. I wanted to keep you to myself. To keep you from the world. I was afraid that you would tire of me like you did with being an Avenger. Cast me out after seeing what the world out there could offer you.”

Loki placed his forehead to yours, feeling your breath on his lips. He bared it all for you tonight. He admitted something you knew was difficult for him to confess.

But could it erase what he made you feel for wanting to follow your dreams? Horrible and selfish. Untalented. Unwanted.

“I love you.” Your eyes grew wide at his expression. “I loved you then. I’ve loved you since. I am still deeply in love with you. Even now, when you’re about to run away from me, my heart won’t let me forget you. I was afraid that I would have no place in the world that you were creating for yourself. So, for that, I am sorry.” You closed your eyes and lingered in his touch a while longer.

“I wanted to apologize. I never got a chance to see you again after our fight, and I regret that I never made amends to you. You had every right to follow your path. I shouldn’t have stopped you. I should’ve supported you.” His thumb caressed your cheeks back and forth. You always did have the softest skin, unblemished by anyone else’s touch, he thought.  “You don’t have to say it back. You don’t have to say anything at all. And if you want to leave now, I won’t stop you. Never again. But I just needed you to know how I felt.”

Do you love him? You asked yourself as you looked into his variegated eyes. Did you spend every night thinking about him? Did you ignore the compound, and your friends, this past year just to avoid seeing him again? Afraid that he would have someone new in his life? Did you miss his voice when he says your name? His kisses? His touch?

“Yes,” you answered yourself. Loki’s brows knitted in confusion. “Loki, I understand now. Thank you… what I said to you back then, I was angry, but...” you tried to start.

Loki smiled, placing a kiss on your forehead. “We were both angry and said things we didn’t mean. Me more than you. Please don’t apologize. Least of all to me.” He exhaled as his eyes darted around again. You nodded your head, accepting his grace- forgiving you without having to apologize.

You looked up at his eyes, filled with wonder, “What do you see? When you touch me?” you asked gently. All this time you never thought to ask him.

“I see what I always see. Since the very first time I touched you. Do you remember?” You shook your head no. “They showed a picture of it on the talk show.” Realization sunk in. “I was wiping your tears just like now.”

Loki looked around again and smiled, putting his hands in his pockets. “I see home. I see the woods that used to grow behind the castle walls. Thor and I used to sneak out when we were children and climb the trees. The same woods we used as hunting grounds when we got older. Would you like to see it?”

No one had ever asked you that before.  No one had ever had the power to do that before! You nodded and faint green smoke rose from his fingers. Your vision got blurry as the greenhouse was replaced by a dense forest. The trees were tall and luscious. Strands of warm light filtered through the canopy above shining down on the emerald grass below.

“Come with me.” Loki held your hand as he walked further into the woods. Dead leaves and twigs crunched at your feet as a soft breeze blew through the lace of your dress giving you goosebumps. “There’s a glade up ahead where we can just lay on the grass. I used to spend my free time there, letting the hours idle away.” The thought made you smile.

Sure enough, a clearing began to form up ahead. Long, soft grass weaved itself as it grew amongst large wildflowers. The filtered light from the canopy above made the blooms shine like jewels on a bed of velvet.

“I have yet to see anywhere comparable to this place on Midgard,” Loki said circling the glade, a look of homesickness in his eyes. “That metropolis has nothing compared to the splendor of these woods.”

“It’s beautiful.” You said walking towards him. A path of small wildflowers blooming with every step you made.

“Thank you. It is beautiful. But still an illusion. We are still very much in the greenhouse by the compound. You’re just seeing what I’m seeing at the moment.” You reached out towards a tree and felt cold glass instead of bark.

“You see this every time you’ve touched me? Every time we’ve…”

“Hmm,” Loki nodded solemnly. “Sometimes it's these woods. Other times it's my bedchambers in the palace. Yet, every time I’m with you, I see this- my childhood home. I haven’t been back since you left.” Loki bent down and picked up a wildflower that had grown in your stride. “I try to conjure it myself, but it never feels the same. The colors aren’t as vibrant. Not as much warmth.” He placed the flower on your ear, pushing your stray hair back. His hands ventured further down, tracing the beads of your sleeves.

“I’ve missed you,” he admitted.

“You’ve missed me? Or you’ve missed my powers and that they can bring you home?” you asked slightly jilted.

Loki looked deeply into your eyes as he turned you into his embrace. Your hands fell onto his arms and the look he gave you stole your breath away. “You are my home,” he confessed with a passion and honesty you’ve never heard from him before.  

He wasted no time. He gave you no warning as he conceded to his urges and kissed you fervidly. The soft lips you were fantasizing about earlier painted a poor picture of his actual kiss. Soft yet demanding. Giving, yet always ravenous. It was as if no time had passed between you two. You were back in his arms kissing him and it felt like he described it. Home.

“All I ever wanted was to have you here in my arms,” he breathed in between kisses. Your hands found their way into his hair, pulling him back to you for another kiss. His arms wrapped selfishly around you, holding you tighter to him.

The heat was too much. It’s been so long since you’ve been held so intimately. But with Loki’s lips devoted to your neck, you would burn gladly. You would die happily on this pyre- as the last thing you would hear would be Loki moaning in your ears.

You were lost in his haze, caught up in the moment with the feel of his body against yours. He pushed you against the tree and you felt the cold glass of the greenhouse against your back.

Loki towered over you, “Tell me you want this,” he whispered onto your noxious skin. “Tell me you’ve missed this and want this with me.” He looked into your eyes, imploring something deep and vulnerable inside you.

“I do, Loki. I want this with you” You moaned holding tight against his grip. You felt his hands gather your dress skirt. Slowly his hands wandered, savoring the feel of your soft skin. His hallucinations were getting more and more vivid. Believable. Or perhaps it was just his kiss, sending you into slight delirium yourself.

Loki hurriedly took off his suit jacket and flung it across the room. He knelt in front of you, in between your parted legs as he raised your left knee above his shoulders- kissing his way up to your inner thighs. “Loki is this real?” you asked looking around you.

“Gods, I hope so,” he prayed, leaving a mark on your thigh. He kissed his way up to your core and licked you through the fabric of your panties. You heard the sheer cotton tear as his fingers brushed up against your eager clit.

Your fingers ran through his hair, pulling when he licked a wide stripe in between your folds. Your knees buckled at the sensation and soon you were reaching around yourself for something to hold. Something to keep you up as Loki lost himself in your wet arousal.

The cold glass of the greenhouse was replaced by the feeling of something warm and sturdy behind you. You looked up to see that Loki’s shadow had positioned himself to where his chest was flushed against your back- his dark hands roaming your body. His arms reached forward to hold your dress up above your waist, aiding Loki in his endeavors.

You felt a kiss on your neck, a quick peck as if he was asking for permission or giving you a warning. You yelped as his shadow quickly lifted you by your hips and Loki pushed both your knees up for his shadow to hold.

“Loki!”

“Yes, my love?” he asked as he continued to latch his mouth and draw on your aching cunt. Loki’s shadow spread your legs. You were splayed open and exposed. Leaving Loki to devote his tongue to you. You reached up and ran your hands through his shadow's hair, pulling as he sweetly kissed your neck.  

You couldn’t help the moans and loud whimpers escaping your lips. You bucked your hips onto Loki’s face as your head reared back onto his shadow’s shoulders.

“Come for me, Fox. Let me hear you,” he commanded as he continued his consumption of you. “Let me taste you again. Give me what I’ve been missing. What I’ve been craving.” He said the last words to your tormented clit. You shuddered violently as moans and whimpers of his name fell from your lips. “That’s it. There you go, Vixen,” he cooed as he drank your arousal and lapped around your thighs.

His shadow laid you down gently and you felt the plush pillows and cold blankets from the greenhouse corner underneath you. A warring sensation against the heat of Loki’s body pressed on top of you. A bit of reality mixed in with the illusion Loki was scarcely hanging on to.

His hands fondled your every curve and every soft line. You cupped his face and led him to your kiss. His soft lips quivered when you reached in between your bodies and stroked his clothed erection. So hard and so tight. He breathed a sigh of relief when you unzipped his pants and stroked him.

“Fuck,” he moaned. Your name followed next as he bucked his hips into your hand. “Vixen…tell me you’re mine,” he panted. He kissed you hard, not letting you reply, afraid of your answer. You lined him up next to your expecting cunt and pulled him inside you.

You bit your lip and moaned as the look of pure pleasure radiated through your face. “Tell me…” he tried again as he pushed his hips into you repeatedly.

“I love you, Loki,” you moaned. His eyebrows slanted skeptically, stilling his movements and letting your words sink into his thoughts. “I’ve always been yours.” You admitted.

His kiss was magic. It was passion and life. Remorse and reconciliation all at once. He began his movements again at a steady pace, savoring your tight walls around him. You could feel the ridges on his shaft with every euphoric pull and thrust. His head bowed at the sheer power of your declaration. “Say it again…” he whispered.

“I’m yours,” you moaned.

“…say it…” he bit his lips. “…ag-again…please…” His eyes were closed as he focused on the agonizingly drawn-out movements of his hips to yours.

“I love you, Loki,” you cried as he slammed against you. You squeezed around him finally pushing him off that edge. Loosening the tight hold he had on his pleasure and pouring it all into you. The wave of bliss hit you hard and you came onto his throbbing cock at the same time.  

Spent and panting next to you, Loki held you close. His kisses were endless. Your cheeks and jaw would be bruised tomorrow from the affection he was showering you with. His hands were always touching you. Your neck, your face. Your thigh that was wrapped around his legs. You lost all track of time being with the god of mischief and soon the bright sunlight that trickled down to the forest floor was replaced by the harsh glare of the greenhouse overhead lamp.

Loki had little strength left to keep the illusion up any longer. He seemed weary but content. You kissed him fleetingly as you sat up back to reality. “Stay,” he said softly. “The one thing I didn’t say last time…I’m saying it now. Don’t go. Stay.” His hands held yours tightly.

So many feelings were attached to that one word. The weight of it crushing your heart. “I’m not asking you to give up your life. I’m not asking you to stay just for the night either. I’m asking for you to just be,” he smiled at you. “Be who you want to be and I will support you like I should have.”

You crawled back to him, settling your head on your propped-up elbows, while your other hands played with the buttons on his shirt. “And if I decide to go?”

“Then I’ll do the one thing I should’ve done last time but didn’t.” he smiled as you looked at him expectantly. “I’ll follow you.”

A/N: This was a request sent in and I'm sorry to say it took this long for me to finish it. I hope you like it my lovely @gruftiela. I tried to stick to the vibe of the song. But I also added lyrics from one of my other favorite Depeche Mode songs. See if you can spot it 😝.

🏷️ @emarich7 @michelleleewise @coldnique @psychospore @lokisgoodgirl @silverfire475 @fictive-sl0th @springdandelixn @wheredafandomat @goldencherriess @peaches1958 @salempoe @thomase1 @kkdvkyya @a-witch-with-words @mischief2sarawr @sarawr-reads @vbecker10 @peachymallow @irishhappiness @cakesandtom @simplyholl @here4thefanfics @tallseaweed @holdmytesseract @immersed-in-mischief @joyful-enchantress @lokisninerealms @kikster606 @glitterylokislut @loz-3 @slytherclaw1227 @chantsdemarins @the-lady-amphitrite @eleniblue @km-ffluv @lokidokieokie @n3rdybirdee @melsunshine @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokischambermaid @cjand10 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @chrisevansmaindish

[ginxyy]

Back to you

Mingyu was always there i just didn’t know it

The bass thumped against my chest, a tactile reminder of the vibrant club that surrounded me. The lights danced with a fervor that filled the air with an almost electric energy, swirling shades of blue and pink mixing in the darkness. I had promised myself that tonight would be about letting go. It had been a year since I walked away from everything my relationship with Woozi, the music that once filled my heart with joy, and the connections I had formed with his bandmates. Each beat of the music sent ripples through me, coaxing feelings I thought I had buried deep within.

As I sipped my drink, the bitter taste mingling oddly with the bittersweet memories, I scanned the crowd. Faces blurred into shades of longing, laughter, and blurred recollections. But then, like a beacon in the chaotic sea of bodies, I saw him Mingyu. My heart skipped a beat, a familiar rhythm rekindled in an instant. He was always the one who lit up the space around him, his smile illuminating the dimness in a way that made everything seem possible.

He hadn’t noticed me yet, his carefree laughter echoing above a sea of voices, and I held my breath. The last time I saw him, I was still tangled in the complicated emotions of betrayal and heartache.

Now, the ache felt like a distant pulse, but there was a different kind of warmth simmering beneath my skin as I watched him share jokes with a group of friends. It was surreal to see him, to feel part of my lost past tugging at my heartstrings.

I remembered the days that Mingyu and I would steal glances amidst rehearsals, those quiet moments filled with unspoken promises. He was always kind, always the one who could make me laugh even when the weight of my world felt heavy on my shoulders. But loyalty had pulled me toward Woozi, and any thoughts of a blossoming connection with Mingyu remained buried beneath the surface, locked away because of my relationship locked away because of betrayal.

But now, the heavy cloak of the past was beginning to lift, and I felt the unmistakable tug toward him, an undeniable magnetic pull. I bit my lip, hesitating.

Should I approach him? Would it hurt? Or was it time to reclaim a piece of my past that I never got to explore? The questions spun around in my mind like the very lights that ensnared the dance floor.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I pushed through the crowd, the music guiding my feet. As I got closer, the laughter around him seemed to fade, and for a moment, I thought he might sense me before I reached him. Mingyu turned, his eyes widening as they found mine. Time slowed, the room shrinking around us until it felt like we were the only two people in existence.

“Y/N?” he asked, a sweet recognition painting his features. His smile was infectious, that familiar warmth radiating from him like sunlight breaking through the clouds. All at once, the ache of the past mingled with the thrill of the present, leaving both a bitter and sweet taste lingering on my tongue.

“Mingyu,” I breathed, unable to suppress the smile that tugged at the corners of my mouth.

He stepped closer, and in that moment, I felt the world around us cluttered with life and exuberance fall away. “I thought I’d never see you again,” he said, his voice laced with genuine surprise mingled with a hint of something deeper, something unwrapped.

“It’s been a while,” I replied softly, memories rushing through me like a tidal wave the secret glances in the practice room, the way he saved me from gloomy silences, and how his laughter felt like a balm to my wounded heart.

“We missed you,” he said, his sincerity wrapping around me like a warm embrace. “The group hasn’t been the same without you.” The statement struck me. I hadn’t expected to hear that, hadn’t anticipated that they would still care.

Mingyu offered me a drink, and we found a quieter corner of the club, where the thundering beats were muffled a world within a world. We talked about everything, and nothing, filling the air with laughter and unfiltered conversation. As we spoke, I began to peel away the layers of hurt that wrapped around my heart, the grievances of the past slowly dissipating like fog under the morning sun.

“How have you been?” he asked, genuine curiosity flooding his features. It felt safe sharing that space with him, as if I could lower my guard for just a while.

“I spent some time finding myself, I guess. Learning to let go of what happened with Woozi. I didn’t think I’d run into you,” I murmured, suddenly feeling vulnerable.

Mingyu’s expression softened.

“About that… I’m really sorry you had to go through that. You didn't deserve it, Y/N.” His words hit me like a soft breeze, cooling the heat of my memories while sparking warmth in their place. In that moment, something shifted between us, an invisible tether that pulled tighter.

“And you,” I started, and then hesitated, struggling to find the right words. “You were always a light in the group. I just never had the courage to ”

“To what?” he prompted gently, his brow furrowed with concern, yet the flicker of hope ignited in his eyes brought me courage.

“To explore what was between us,” I confessed, holding his gaze. His breath caught in his throat, and for a long beat, I could see his heart unfolding in response to my confession.

“I always felt it too,” he finally replied, his voice barely above a whisper, the admission pulling a smile to my lips. “But I didn’t want to overstep. I thought it was just a crush, or friendship nothing more. But seeing you now, after all this time… I don’t think it’s just nostalgia.”

The club pulsed around us, yet we existed in our own Eden of forgotten promises and newly sowed seeds of connection. As the night carried us forward, I knew, deep down, that this reunion was more than just a chance encounter.

As the last remnants of our conversation faded into the background, an unspoken tension simmered between us, electrifying the air. The steady bass from the speakers thrummed through my body, syncing with my heartbeat as Mingyu’s eyes searched mine, warm and unwavering. In the dim lighting, his gaze was more intense, tracing over my face as if each feature held a memory he couldn’t quite let go of. His hand lingered on mine, a gentle yet undeniable connection that made the rest of the crowded club slip away into insignificance.

“Dance with me?” he asked softly, his words almost drowned by the music. Without a second thought, I nodded, feeling his fingers slip through mine as he led me back toward the dance floor. The pounding rhythm enveloped us, the colors of the lights pulsing around us like waves. As we found our place among the dancers, he pulled me close, his hand settling on my waist, and suddenly, everything around us felt like it faded into slow motion.

We moved together, our bodies effortlessly falling into sync, my hands resting on his shoulders as he held me near. Every step, every sway, seemed to draw us closer, the space between us shrinking with every beat. His eyes never left mine, and I could feel the same desire simmering within him, matching my own. Mingyu’s hand on my waist slipped lower, his fingers pressing lightly against my back, igniting a fire beneath my skin. His breath was warm against my cheek, close enough that each word he whispered felt like a caress.

“It’s like nothing’s changed,” he murmured, his voice rougher, hushed just for me.

My heart fluttered in response, and I felt my cheeks flush under his gaze. “But everything’s changed,” I replied, almost a whisper.

He leaned in, his face so close that our noses brushed, his eyes flicking down to my lips before meeting mine again. The tension between us was palpable, a fragile thread ready to snap. I felt the rhythm of the music slow to match the thud of my heartbeat as I let myself lean in, my lips brushing his. The world blurred, everything crystallizing around this single moment as he closed the distance between us, our mouths finally meeting in a kiss that felt both familiar and new, a promise that had been waiting for far too long.

His hands tightened around me, drawing me even closer as the kiss deepened, and I felt my own hands tangle in his hair. The years of longing, the quiet glances, the secrets we’d both kept buried all of it rose to the surface, released in a cascade of emotions I couldn’t hold back. I could feel the heat of his body against mine, his heart racing beneath my touch. Mingyu pulled back just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against mine as his hands moved up, cradling my face with a tenderness that left me breathless.

“Let’s get out of here,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the music, but Mingyu’s eyes lit up with an understanding that sent a thrill down my spine. Without another word, he took my hand, weaving us through the crowd and toward the edge of the dance floor. We moved quickly, finding a secluded hallway that led to the back of the club. The pulsing music softened as we moved away from the main room, leaving us in a quiet, shadowed corridor.

The second we were alone, he pressed me against the wall, his lips claiming mine with a fervor that left me dizzy. The intensity of the kiss was overwhelming, and I found myself melting into him, my hands exploring the solid planes of his shoulders, the warmth radiating through his shirt. He pulled back, his breath coming in short gasps as he looked down at me, his gaze heavy with longing.

“Are you sure?” he whispered, his voice hoarse but laced with undeniable anticipation.

In response, I pulled him closer, capturing his lips in a kiss that left no room for doubt. The thrill of our closeness, the heat of his hands on my waist, the sheer exhilaration of being with him after all this time it felt like a dream. Before I realized it, I was guiding him toward the nearest door, a private restroom tucked into the back of the club. We slipped inside, locking the door behind us, sealing ourselves off from the world outside.

The room was dimly lit, with only a faint glow illuminating our reflections in the mirror. His hands found mine, pressing me back against the cool surface of the wall, and I felt the tension between us intensify, the air thick with unspoken desire. Mingyu’s eyes roamed over me, his gaze filled with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. He leaned in, pressing soft, lingering kisses along my neck, his lips tracing a path that left my skin tingling.

Every touch felt electric, his hands exploring with a gentleness that belied the passion simmering beneath the surface. My own fingers traced along his jaw, down his neck, feeling the rapid beat of his pulse under my touch. The intimacy of the moment, the stolen privacy, made everything feel sharper, more vivid. I could feel his breath, warm and steady, as he looked into my eyes, his hand brushing a stray strand of hair from my face.

“We’ve waited too long for this,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, but the weight of his words settled in my heart like a promise.

“Then don’t make me wait any longer,” I replied, my voice soft but charged with anticipation.

He needed no further encouragement. In the small, enclosed space, we let go of everything—every hesitation, every worry. His touch grew bolder, our connection deepening with each passing second as we explored this uncharted territory between us. The outside world fell away entirely, leaving just us, wrapped in the warmth and passion of the moment.

As the night blurred into something we could keep only for ourselves, I knew this was more than just a reunion, more than just a memory of what could have been. It was the beginning of something real, something neither of us could walk away from anymore.

Mingyu’s lips found mine again, this time with a hunger that matched the heat flooding my body. The intensity between us grew, an unrestrained passion that had been simmering for too long. His hands, warm and steady, trailed down my sides, sending sparks wherever his touch lingered. He pressed me firmly against the wall, his body flush against mine, and I could feel the strength of him, the solid warmth that felt both reassuring and thrilling.

Our breaths mingled in the small space, filling the air with the urgency of our movements. His hands slid down to my hips, pulling me even closer, his fingers tracing slow, lingering circles along my waist that made my pulse race. I ran my hands up his chest, feeling the muscles tense under my touch, my fingers slipping under the collar of his shirt, tugging him closer. The heat radiating between us was palpable, every touch, every caress fanning the flames of desire that seemed to burn hotter with each passing second.

His lips moved down, brushing against my jaw, then lower, pressing heated kisses along my neck. The way he held me, the tenderness mingling with a barely controlled intensity, sent shivers down my spine. I tilted my head back, giving in to the sensation, his mouth trailing lower, his breath warm against my skin as he explored the sensitive spots that left me breathless. My fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close as he continued his slow, deliberate exploration, each kiss a promise, each touch igniting something deeper.

“Mingyu…” I whispered, his name escaping my lips in a breathless sigh. The sound seemed to spur him on, his grip on my hips tightening as his lips claimed mine again, this time with an urgency that left no space between us. His hands roamed over me, mapping the contours of my body as if he wanted to memorize every inch. The feeling of his touch, the way his body pressed against mine, the heat building between us it was all-consuming.

In the dim light, his eyes met mine, and the desire there was unmistakable, mirrored in the quickened pace of his breathing. He pressed his forehead against mine, his fingers sliding up to cradle my face as he looked into my eyes, his gaze filled with an intensity that sent a thrill through me. “I’ve wanted this… wanted you… for so long,” he murmured, his voice rough with the weight of his emotions.

I could barely respond, overwhelmed by the sensation of his hands on my skin, the warmth of his breath against my lips. Every part of me felt attuned to him, drawn to the energy that seemed to hum between us.

Mingyu’s gaze stayed locked on mine, his breath hot and shallow as he brought his lips back to mine with a fierce, unrestrained need. Every touch, every press of his fingers felt like a deliberate attempt to draw me even closer, as though proximity alone would never be enough. His hands explored my back, slipping beneath the fabric, his fingertips tracing small, heated circles against my skin. My own hands roamed freely, sliding up his chest, feeling his muscles tighten beneath my touch, his heartbeat pounding as fiercely as my own.

Our breaths mingled, fast and shallow, while the room around us blurred, leaving only the warmth of his skin, the roughness of his touch, and the intensity of his gaze. With every caress, every whispered murmur, I could feel him reaching for something deeper, something that felt like it had been waiting for us in the shadows of time. His fingers laced through mine, and he pressed my hands gently against the wall, holding me there, his smile full of warmth and mischief as his lips found their way to my ear, his whispered words sending a shiver down my spine.

The world outside the small, dimly lit room seemed like a distant memory, our quiet breaths and muffled laughter blending with the low hum of the music outside. His hand cradled my face, his thumb tracing the edge of my jaw with a tenderness that felt like a promise, yet his gaze held something deeper, something that seemed to acknowledge the years we had missed, the moments we never had the chance to explore.

We pulled back just slightly, our foreheads pressed together, catching our breath, though neither of us made any move to separate. The air between us was charged, thick with the weight of emotions finally let free. His hands dropped to my waist, pulling me even closer, and I could feel his heartbeat racing beneath my touch. The intensity of his gaze softened for a moment, his expression shifting to one of vulnerability.

“Come with me,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the muffled sounds of the club beyond the door. His hand found mine, his fingers interlocking with mine in a way that felt both reassuring and exhilarating.

With one last glance around the small, shadowed room, we stepped out into the throbbing energy of the club, our hands still clasped tightly. The music felt distant, the neon lights casting a soft glow around us as we made our way through the crowd, moving as if in our own world, wrapped in a newfound sense of freedom and connection. The energy of the night seemed to pulse through us, amplifying the quiet thrill of finally, truly, being together.

Fast forward a few months, and I had grown used to the quiet comfort of Mingyu’s presence in my life, a warmth I hadn’t realized I’d missed. Our time together felt easy and real moments of laughter, shared glances, and endless conversations that turned into night. Even the simplest things, like bringing him his favorite drink during long practices, had become my favorite way to surprise him and see that contagious smile light up his face.

But today, as I made my way into the practice room, the excitement thrumming through me felt mixed with a tinge of nerves. I hadn’t seen the rest of the group in nearly a year, and though Mingyu reassured me they’d be happy to see me again, part of me wondered if it would truly be that simple. Especially with Woozi.

The practice room door was slightly ajar, and I could hear laughter mixed with the rhythmic thud of the bass echoing through the walls. Taking a deep breath, I walked in, holding the iced coffee I’d brought for Mingyu. As I entered, their eyes turned toward me, a mix of surprise and shock flashing across each of their faces. Mingyu’s face lit up with that familiar grin, his eyes softening as he spotted the drink in my hand.

“Hey,” he called, coming over and wrapping an arm around me in a warm, casual gesture that felt entirely natural. I smiled, feeling the comfort of his embrace, but I could already sense the weight of the others’ stares.

“Y/N? Wow, it’s been ages!” Seungkwan said, his tone cheerful, but the glances exchanged around the room were telling. I could see the unspoken questions behind their friendly greetings. They wanted to know why I was there and more importantly, why Mingyu’s arm was around me so comfortably.

Then, I noticed Woozi’s expression. His usual calm had shifted to a tight-lipped look of barely restrained irritation. I hadn’t realized how much his presence would affect me, the past we’d shared stirring something bitter in my chest. Our last interaction had been a final conversation full of hurt and betrayal, emotions I’d forced myself to bury. But the flicker of anger in his gaze brought it all rushing back.

After a brief silence, Woozi cleared his throat, his tone sharper than I remembered. “So… no one thought to tell me about this?” He addressed Mingyu but his eyes never left mine. The question hung heavy in the air, making everyone shift uncomfortably.

Mingyu’s arm tensed slightly around me, but I spoke before he could respond, unable to hold back the words that had been simmering since the moment I walked in. “Tell you about what, Woozi?” I replied, keeping my tone steady, though my pulse quickened. “That Mingyu and I are together? Because last I checked, you lost the right to care about my relationships when you cheated.”

The room fell silent, the tension thick enough to cut. I could see the others exchanging awkward glances, clearly uncomfortable with the confrontation, but I couldn’t let it go. Woozi’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening as he crossed his arms.

“This isn’t about that,” he shot back, his voice low but laced with anger. “It’s about trust. I would’ve expected you, at the very least, to tell me yourself. Not just show up here like this.” He scoffed, looking away as if he couldn’t bear to meet my gaze.

“Trust?” I repeated, incredulous. The audacity of it made my blood boil. “You think you get to lecture me about trust after everything that happened? After how you left me feeling like I was the one at fault?”

He stepped forward, his voice rising as the frustration in his eyes matched mine. “This isn’t about what happened between us, Y/N. This is about the group. About the mess you’re dragging into my space without even a word of warning.”

I felt Mingyu’s hand press gently on my arm, as though asking me to let it go, but I couldn’t. Every wound from that relationship was suddenly raw, open, and I needed him to understand needed him to feel the weight of what he’d done.

“Your space? Don’t make me laugh, Woozi. You don’t get to act like the victim here, like this group is somehow yours alone. I left because you shattered every bit of trust I had in you. And for the record, I didn’t plan to just ‘show up.’ I came here to see Mingyu, who has treated me with more respect than you ever did.” My words came out sharper than I’d intended, but the truth was a relief to say.

His eyes narrowed, hurt and anger flashing across his face. “Fine,” he said, his voice edged with bitterness. “You and Mingyu maybe you deserve each other.”

The comment stung, but before I could respond, Mingyu stepped in, his tone calm but firm. “That’s enough, Woozi.” He turned to face him, his usually gentle expression hardening. “You don’t get to speak to her that way, not after everything that’s happened. Whatever issues you have with me, leave her out of it.”

Woozi’s gaze flicked between us, his shoulders tense as he struggled to find the right words. But the hurt in his eyes was unmistakable. “You know what? Do whatever you want. Clearly, you two don’t care about how this affects anyone else.” With a bitter laugh, he turned on his heel and walked out, leaving a stunned silence in his wake.

The others exchanged wary glances, and I felt a pang of regret, knowing that this moment, while inevitable, hadn’t been easy for anyone. I took a deep breath, steadying myself before looking up at Mingyu, who offered a reassuring smile, his hand still resting on my shoulder.

He turned to the others, his expression softening. “I know this is a lot, but Y/N’s a part of my life. I hope you all can understand that.”

One by one, the members nodded, their expressions a mix of understanding and relief. The tension began to ease, replaced by a cautious sense of acceptance. As the atmosphere relaxed, I let out a sigh, feeling a weight lift from my chest.

“I’m sorry if I made things complicated,” I said quietly, addressing the group, who gave me warm smiles in return.

Seungkwan stepped forward, patting me on the shoulder. “No worries. It’s good to have you back, Y/N. And besides, this means we get to see Mingyu smiling more often.”

A ripple of laughter spread through the group, breaking the tension, and I felt myself relax as we all began chatting and catching up. Mingyu squeezed my hand gently, his eyes meeting mine with a look of pride and gratitude.

As the day wore on, I could sense the dynamic slowly returning to normal, and it was clear that while the confrontation with Woozi had been painful, it had also been necessary a final closure to a chapter I had finally left behind.

As practice wound down, Mingyu pulled me aside, his hand slipping into mine as he led me toward the door. “Let’s get out of here,” he said, his voice soft and reassuring. The promise of the future in his eyes was all I needed as we stepped out together, leaving the past firmly where it belonged.

A few days passed, but the weight of what had happened in the practice room lingered with me. I couldn’t ignore the tension that had grown between Woozi and me, knowing I’d hurt him despite my own resentment. The memory of his hurt expression was something I couldn’t shake. I knew we’d once shared something real, both as friends and more, and as much as the betrayal had stung, I didn’t want to jeopardize his friendship with Mingyu or risk a permanent divide within the group.

After some thought, I texted Woozi, asking if we could talk. I wanted a chance to clear the air, face to face, just the two of us. A few minutes later, he replied with a simple “Meet me in the studio.”

I took a deep breath as I made my way to his studio, an all-too-familiar place filled with memories both good and complicated. Pausing outside the door, I steeled myself, then knocked lightly before stepping inside. Woozi was at his desk, headphones around his neck, his usual focus on his work replaced by a guarded, wary look.

“Thanks for meeting me,” I started, closing the door behind me. I took a tentative step forward, keeping a respectful distance. “I know I should’ve told you about Mingyu and me. It wasn’t fair for you to find out like that.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I appreciate you saying that.” He looked down, seemingly struggling with his own thoughts. “I just… It felt like everything changed so fast, and seeing you with him it caught me off guard.” He paused, his gaze flicking to me, softened by something more genuine. “But I shouldn’t have reacted like I did either. That was my own… unresolved stuff talking.”

Hearing him admit that gave me hope that we could work through this. “I know it’s complicated. But the truth is, I didn’t want to risk hurting you or making things awkward for the group. That’s why I didn’t say anything sooner.”

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. “And it’s not like I don’t get it. Mingyu… he’s a good guy. I think, deep down, I knew something was there between you two even before we broke up. I just didn’t want to admit it.”

I took a deep breath, deciding to be as honest as I could. “Woozi, I never wanted to hurt you. What happened between us… it hurt me too. But what I valued most was the friendship we had before anything romantic happened. I know we’ve both changed, and maybe we’re not those same people anymore, but I’d like to try to get back to that place if you’re open to it.”

His eyes softened, the tension finally melting from his expression. He let out a small, almost relieved laugh. “You know, I think I’d like that too. I miss those days—when everything felt simple. When we could just… talk.”

A wave of relief washed over me as he continued. “We had a good thing, Y/N, and losing that friendship it stung more than I realized. But I can see that you’re happy now. I don’t want to stand in the way of that.”

“Thank you,” I murmured, feeling a warmth and sincerity in his words that reminded me of why I’d once been drawn to him. “And for what it’s worth, I’m glad we’re talking about this. Maybe it took longer than it should have, but… I’m glad.”

He offered a small, genuine smile, one that reached his eyes for the first time since I’d arrived. “Me too. And I think… maybe we both needed that time to figure out who we are now. You’re with someone who makes you happy, and that’s what matters.”

For the first time in a long time, it felt like the weight between us had lifted. We shared a comfortable silence, as if somehow all the hurt, confusion, and bitterness of the past year had been laid to rest.

“Hey,” Woozi said, breaking the silence with a hesitant smile. “We’re actually heading out for dinner tonight as a group. I think it would be good if you came too. Everyone misses you.”

The invitation caught me off guard, but I could see in his expression that he meant it. “I’d love that,” I replied, feeling a renewed sense of ease settle over me. This was the first time I felt truly welcome, not just in Mingyu’s life but as part of the group I’d once felt so close to.

A few hours later, we all gathered at one of our favorite spots, a cozy restaurant that had always been a staple for group outings. Mingyu sat beside me, his hand resting on my knee under the table, the small gesture grounding me as I laughed and chatted with the others. Woozi was seated across from us, and though there were still a few glances that lingered, he seemed at peace. The tension between us had faded into something more familiar, a comfortable camaraderie that hinted at our old friendship.

As the night went on, Seungkwan cracked jokes that had us in stitches, and the atmosphere became light and joyous, reminding me of the best moments we’d all shared together. Mingyu’s fingers intertwined with mine, and he shot me a warm, knowing smile that made my heart flutter.

At one point, Woozi raised his glass, catching everyone’s attention. “To moving forward,” he said, glancing at me briefly before looking at the rest of the group. “And to keeping the good things close.” The group cheered, clinking glasses, and I smiled, my heart full as I took in the moment. It was clear that we had all made it through our own challenges, and somehow, we’d come out stronger.

After dinner, as we walked out into the cool night air, Mingyu slipped his arm around my waist, pulling me close. The rest of the group walked ahead, laughing and joking, while Mingyu and I hung back, lingering in the glow of the streetlights.

“So,” he murmured, looking down at me with that smile that always felt like home. “Does this make it official?”

I laughed, leaning into him as we walked. “I think it does.”

He leaned down, brushing a soft kiss against my forehead. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go this time.”

With his arm around me and the laughter of our friends filling the air, I knew this was where I was meant to be. The hurt of the past had finally faded, replaced by a new beginning filled with promise and the unmistakable feeling that I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 30 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

-The next night he surprises you, when after dinner and your nightly glass of wine, he jingles his keys at you. “Still want to go for a ride?”

He’s been different, since the sketchbook incident. Despondent, and quiet. At first you thought maybe he was just hungover, but it lingers, and you sense something is on the horizon.

Good or bad, you cannot say.

Desperate to go outside and thinking that driving the car can only improve his mood, you agree.

He locks your door, of course, giving you a pointed look of fuck around and find out as you settle into the seat beside him. You simply bat your eyelashes innocently, winning a begrudging little laugh.

Jumping from a moving car doesn’t exactly appeal to you, anyways.

The loud grumble of the engine as he starts the car is a tactile experience, something you feel in your bones as surely as your ears. He smiles a little as your lips form an “O” of surprise.

You hate to say it, but once you hit the roads with The Black Keys on the radio, the windows down in the summer night, thoughts of watching for an opportunity to escape completely slip your mind. Riding in a fast car down the star-lit mountain highway is bliss, and you hold his hand between shifting gears.

You are surprised when he pulls to a stop at the very mountain outlook where he brought you on your birthday. The river in the valley is a ribbon of quicksilver in the moonlight. Before you can even think to try your door he grabs you up with a hand in your hair and his lips on yours.

You make out like teenagers in the front seat, and it is as sweet as it is maddening. Your own body has begun to forget that you need a full week of rest, his tongue in your mouth and his strong hands on your body inspiring that unhelpful ache between your legs. By the time he is finished with you, he has dragged you into the driver’s seat with him, and you are starry eyed and panting, your hair wild and your lips swollen from the fury of his kisses. He seems to like looking at you in this state, his mood completely elevated by the time he starts the car and drives you home.

He holds you close that night, and you find an insane part of you wishes he would try to debauch you again, just a little bit.  

-Yet as your week of reprieve starts to draw to a close, you cannot help but dread it. It is like you are living with a ticking clock in your brain. Maybe John was kind enough to put his beast back in a box for you…but you’re certain the darkness of his was only momentarily slaked, not slain.

It will wake again.

On the eighth day he wakes you with sweet kisses on your cheek and neck, and you think to yourself, here we go.

But he just asks what you would like for breakfast, and slips out of bed.

You can hardly believe it happened.

Later, while you are in the shower he slips in behind you silent as a wraith, making you jump a foot when he touches your waist.

“Jesus Christ you scared me!”

“Sorry,” he apologizes, though you can tell he’s really not at all, as he ducks his head to kiss you with a little smile. You start to tremble as you wonder what new ways he’s thought up to torture you in the interim. His soapy hands all over your body are a marvel, somehow both soothing and agitating all at once. By the feeling of his erection pressed into the curve of your spine, you can tell he’s not unaffected, but he does not try to further seduce you or take what he wants, just kissing you before exiting the shower.

Standing under the warm stream of the rain head, somehow he leaves you feeling cold and alone.

You wonder what new game this is, hardly believing he’ll actually leave the choice up to you.

It goes on like this for days, and you are constantly on edge, waiting to be devoured every time he touches you.

This is almost as exhausting as being caught up and fucked properly.

As it goes on you are eventually living in agony again, existing in a state of constant, always present, red-thrumming arousal that begins to eat away at your sanity.

This diabolical man will be the death of you.

In the end it is you who cannot stand it anymore, and you know it is a victory for him but goddammit you are only a woman made of flesh and blood.

After lunch you are snuggling together, laying down on the couch. He is reading to you, but you're barely listening. You are distracted by his feet, which are bare, and elegant, and ridiculously large compared to yours. You can't stop stroking them with your little pink painted toes.

If he is moved by this, he makes very little sign, though once in a while he punctuates his sentences with a slight smile you find absolutely maddening.

You interrupt him mid-page with a kiss on his neck. He stops dead to look down at you, a question in his soft brown eyes.

You kiss him again in answer, this time on the mouth, and John Wick might be a lover of books, but just this once he disrespects one with abandon, throwing it in the general direction of the coffee table.   

It bounces before hitting the floor, dead on arrival.

You don’t care, because his mouth is on yours, and his hand is sliding up your ribcage to cup your breast in your pretty designer sundress, and you want him so much that you have ceased to care if it is wrong or right or somewhere in the gray.

When he so-generously slips a sinewy thigh between yours you grind on him like a cat in heat, hardly recognizing the sound that falls from your mouth.

It is quickly devoured by his lips again, and then his nipping teeth make their way down your jawline, to the soft curve of your neck.

“God, I’ve missed you,” he groans against your skin, and you wonder what price you’ll have to pay for it later when you answer:

“I missed you too.”

He pulls back to look at you with something like wonder in his shining dark eyes; the tender way he cradles the side of your face in his big hand tangles your heartstrings up in painful knots. But before either of you can ruin it with more words he is on you once more, claiming you with another probing kiss that curls your toes. He frees your breasts by undoing the buttons at the front of your dress, and it was not without some personal machination that you decided that morning not to wear a bra. His clever tongue on your nipples is your reward, and you whimper as he teases your tight buds.

You are nothing less than relieved, when his hand disappears beneath your skirt, running up the inside of your thigh to impatiently push aside your panties.

When he finds you soaking wet he growls into your mouth, circling your clit with slick-soaked fingers. You whimper in answer, clinging to him in your need, pulling at his shirt ineffectually. With those expert fingers dipping inside you and toying with your bud he brings you higher and higher, before pulling away. You scream a little, knowing you sound feral, and beyond caring about it too.

It makes him smile, a wolfish curl of lips that lets you know you’re about to be devoured.

“My fierce little kitten. Do you need me, baby?”

“Yes,” you answer, somewhat begrudgingly now. You are hoping against hope that he’s not going to play games with you today. That maybe you can just…be together, for once, without all the rest of this man’s dark baggage weighing you down.

He pulls his shirt over his head, and like always you seem to lose time staring at him, so taken by the sight of his broad chest and bare arms, scarred and tattooed as they are.

“You still like what you see?” he asks, with a surprising note of vulnerability.

“Yes.” You run your hands over his pecs, up the column of his neck to stroke the soft hair behind his ear, and his eyes slide closed. He doesn’t even make you call him Sir...and you hope this is promising.

You watch with your hands behind your head, your breasts free of the bosom of your dress, as he unbuttons his jeans and shimmies out of everything. The magnificent sight of him bare before you makes you sigh with some unnamable satisfaction, and you reach for him with open arms.

He seems to like the sight of you with your hair mused and your skirt up around your hips. He does not undress you, just slides your panties down your thighs, looking down at you as though you are something precious to behold. You are wound so tight that that look alone almost makes you cum.

With your legs wrapped around his slim hips he slides inside you, the stretch and glide of his big cock the most wonderful thing you’ve ever felt. He moans in your ear as you pull him deeper still with your heel digging into his firm buttock. You lose yourself in the sensation of him filling you up, and the muscles of his powerful back under your hands as he moves. You enjoy it as he takes what he wants from you, just reveling in the feel of him, but when he sits up to prop you on his lean thighs and circles your clit with his thumb while he’s inside you—oh.

This could be the gate to heaven, and your nails dig into the pillow behind you as he fills you with the most impossible pleasure, one flick of his thumb at a time. That scintillating tension builds between your legs, nigh unbearable in the promise of its glory. “Fuck, please, John,” you beg, because you have waited so long and you have walked through hell to finally get here.

You could murder him, when the rhythm of his touch slows. “You ready to say something for me, beautiful?”

Not this shit again.

“No,” you whimper, thrashing against the smooth leather of the couch. “No, don’t do this to me now.”

“I need to hear it,” he insists, sounding almost as desperate as you this time. “Need you to say that you’re mine.”

He’s finally done it.

After all this, John Wick has finally found your breaking point, and as it turned out it was all at the tip his thumb.

Suddenly you are filled with everything.

Everything he has put you through the past weeks. The emotional rollercoaster of the anger and the fear, the joy and sympathy and heartbreak and love. He makes you feel everything but he denies you this because you refuse to admit you are a thing to be owned by him? You are the molten core of a volcano—this is the final pound of pressure that makes you explode.

“You want me to say something?” you demand with a snarl. You try to twist away, but his hands are iron on your thighs, keeping you joined. Maybe he’s merely inside your pussy, but a part of you feels as though he’s in your very soul, and it’s not fair how he’s made his way inside you. Inside your mind, your heart, your body.

None of this is fair.

“I hate you!”

His handsome features pull in the most thunderous frown imaginable, but before he can reply you go on, “I hate you for making me love you, for dangling that in front of me then switching it for whatever the fuck this is! And I hate it that I cannot stop loving you after everything you’ve put me through! Why isn’t it enough that I love you?”

Again you fight like a wild thing, until the only way he can restrain you is to lay his body completely over yours, pinning you with his solid weight, holding your wrists over your head with an iron grip.

Those blazing dark eyes feel as though they will burn a hole in you. Raggedly he breathes through his nose, staring you down.

You’ve done it. This mad man is finally going to hurt you. This man who you loved, who you do love, is going to make certain you never see the light of day again. You shake in your fury and there are hot tears streaming down your cheeks. You cannot stop them anymore than you can bring yourself to close your eyes to look away.

“Say that again,” he growls, and you are certain you sense your end in those words.

You can’t raise your voice above a whisper.

“I hate you.”

“No. The other.”

You could weep, and your voice cracks.

“I love you.”

You watch as he wars with himself, weighing your words, running the full gamut of wonder, anger, disbelief…and acceptance.

His mouth crashes over yours, and gods help you, but you meet him head on with a desperation you didn’t know yourself capable of. He is filling you again, lifting your leg with his knee and sliding deep as he can inside your needy cunt, and it is glorious.

“Fuck,” you whine, hiking up your legs nearly to your chest to bring him closer, tighter, more. He manipulates your body like a master, reaching between you to toy with your clit again. It’s so wonderful that your answering moan sounds more like a sob.

He strums you like your body is an instrument he was born to play, taking you to the shining edge to the merciless rhythm of his thick manhood burying inside you. You half expect him to pull back again, but he only watches you, watches you with those eyes that miss nothing while he grants you that ultimate pleasure at last.

Your orgasm is vicious in its intensity, ripping through you like a firestorm, your back bowing so hard you fear your spine might crack, a scream torn from your throat that surely echoes all the way down the mountain. He is right behind you, thrusting hard while the clench of your pussy pulls him over the glorious edge too. He grips you so tightly there will be bruises. The tremors of his last thrusts tease you with a splendid agony, ropes of his hot cum filling you to the brim.

When at last it is done he collapses on top of you, only propping himself just enough so as not to smother you. You bury your nose in the bend of his neck, hiding in the soft waves of his dark hair, shakily breathing in the scent of him.

When finally he can move again he sits up just enough to see you, the tip of his straight nose touching yours. “It’s enough, for now,” he tells you, and you close your eyes with relief, craning your neck to press your lips to his. He kisses you with a tenderness that breaks you all over again, your eyes filling with fresh tears.  

The quiet that follows is like the hush after a battle, neither of you capable of sleep, but not really capable of motion either. It is a long time before he rolls onto his side, pulling you into him again. “I love you, y/n. I love you more…than I can possibly tell you.”

You sigh, burying your face against his chest.

“It’s ok,” you whisper. “Just…don’t hurt me, and we’ll figure it out. Ok?”

You feel him nod against the top of your head, though he says nothing in return.

Again you bask in the quiet together, your limbs deliciously tangled, until you feel a cold snoot on your back.

You turn to find dog resting his head on the couch by you, his tail wagging as he gives you the puppy dog eyes.

John snorts at the display, reaching out to scratch his ears. “He thinks we’re making him a puppy,” he huffs, clearly amused.

You laugh at the thought. “Fat chance, buddy,” you tell the hopeful pooch, turning in John’s arms so you can pet the dog.

Then you freeze, as you wonder if you’ve disclosed something you shouldn’t have.

John’s lips touch your shoulder as his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you against him again. “It’s alright, y/n. I know about your IUD.”

“How?”

He sounds sleepy, as he answers. “I hacked your medical records. Well…I paid someone to hack them.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to know if there was anything in your history we needed to get ahead of.” He says this like it is the most natural, most acceptable thing in the world. And yet, after what happened with Helen…somehow it is also touching.

He really has managed to warp your sense of right and wrong.

“Invasive much?”

“I’m an asshole. I know.” He doesn’t sound sorry in the least, and you can tell that he is moments from falling asleep.

In that moment, you decide you feel safe enough, and content enough, to follow suite.

[y-rhywbeth2]

D&D Vampire Lore Dump #2

"Biology" Their "metabolism" and their physical body, their senses, why they're not aging and "vampires actually make fantastic torture victims, if you're a monster: vampire healing and how to inflict scars on them."

OBLIGATORY DISCLAIMER FOR FIRST TIME READERS: There are two things to note about the lore presented here: First, while the standard stat block in the monster manual is the default, in terms of lore vampires have this annoying tendency to be incredibly, stupidly varied. They are magical monstrosities ruled by the power of symbolism and superstition above anything else.

The next is that D&D is decades old, spans five editions, several settings and hundreds of writers. One guy establishes a piece of lore, and then the next picks it up goes "nah" and writes something else. I collected info from four different source books, all from different editions, which naturally don't entirely agree on how vampires work. Lore never stays consistent and may contradict itself. You may see information somewhere else from a source I don't have that contradicts what I wrote here. If you read this and like some of this stuff but not other bits, take the good and ditch the rest. Larian themselves have not written BG3 totally compliant with some established D&D lore or the original games.

Basically, in D&D, canon is what you decide it is.

Feeding | "Biology" | Hierarchy | Weaknesses and Cures | Psychology

The transformation into a vampire causes little physical change, except for the fangs, and the fact that their facial features seem take on a permanent hardened expression, appearing more "feral" in a way that is likened to a starving wolf. Spawn moreso than freed vampires, and in 5e they have claws despite the fact that freed vampires don't. Rarely a vampire's eyes turn red upon changing, but this doesn't usually happen. Their eyes do start glowing red when they're angry through.

Most of the vampire's five senses are sharpened by undeath. They can see perfectly in the dark, for example, and are very hard to catch off guard. The only one that gets duller than it was when they were alive is the sense of touch - "a blunt, phantom sense of touch, more mechanical than biological. It is a pale, crude approximation of a real tactile sense." They don't feel the effects of physical exertion and their ability to feel pain is dulled (but not nonexistent). They're not particularly bothered by high or cold temperatures unless they're at extremes (like frostbite levels, or "standing by a lava pool" levels). They're also largely unbothered by electric shocks.

They don't breathe, though they do actually have a heartbeat as their blood still gets pumped around their body. It doesn't provide any biological need of a living circulatory system, but is possibly part of keeping the body animated via magic.

Vampires do not produce body heat and tend to be room temperature to the touch unless they've fed within the last 24 hours, in which case they appear alive.

Lacking brain activity on account of being dead, vampires are immune to mind effecting spells and psionics. The fact that Astarion is affected by the tadpole is likely due to Netherese magic. The parasite is canonically modifying his undead state to its needs and has shut down his vampiric abilities, as he observes in one banter.

Their physical abilities massively increase. They have superhuman strength, speed and reflexes and are far more durable than the living.

Vampiric blood looks like humanoid blood at first glance, but takes on a golden sheen when held up to a light source. Also if the vampire it came from is still alive, then that blood can have strange magic properties… which are random! Maybe it burns like acid, or puts you under mind control if you touch it, or explodes into flame when exposed to sunlight! You won't know 'til you find out, it could do anything or nothing.

Vampires are capable of siring partially-undead children with the living (Dhampirs). Dhampirs are alive but as they grow up and their undead heritage starts to manifest they begin to share their vampire parent's cravings and feeding habits and are not terribly fond of said parent, as a rule.

Vampires are the only undead that require sleep. That turned out to be a very long topic of its own though, so maybe I'll focus on the details another time. Short version: Vampires have an instinctive knowledge of how close sunrise is. Some vampires can chose to sleep much like humans, others will immediately shut down the second the sun appears over the horizon and be dead until the moment it next sinks below said horizon, at which point the vampire is 1000% aware and awake again. They are bound to soil from their grave/homeland and must sleep on/in that or be destroyed. In BG3 specifically, looking at Cazador, elves still reverie (trance) in undeath. (In reverie, elves relive their memories of years gone by in vivid real time instead of dreaming. It's how elves avoid forgetting their own lives while living 700+ years) Vampires also hibernate, where they chose to go into a deep sleep for an unknown and uncontrollable length of time reaching centuries in length. Usually due to depression.

A vampire's body is frozen in time, and they will always have the same appearance they had when they died. The magic that keeps the vampire frozen in time, unageing, also gives them regenerative properties as it tries to reset them. Within minutes of receiving a wound, the wound has closed itself as if it were never there. "Wounds close, broken bones reform themselves, even missing limbs regenerate…" Reducing a vampire to 0 hit points also does not kill them, but that's for a later instalment. If one were to torture a vampire one could get both incredibly creative and make it last indefinitely.

They also can't get new tattoos or piercings, as the body heals them over again and pushes out the ink/metal. On the same logic if they had body modifications before they died then they'd never be able to get rid of them - if you scrape off the skin a tattoo is on or tore off a pierced lobe, the skin that grows back will still have the tattoo and the ear will have the hole for the earing still there.

However, there are forms of magical damage that inflict permanent marks on a vampire, which are called stigmata. Sunlight, holy water, holy symbols and the like are known to leave a scar. A silver plated blade might also do it.

There are two energy planes: Positive and Negative. Also known as the Planes of Life and Death, whose energies infuse the Prime Material Plane (which contains worlds like Earth and Toril). Living creatures are powered by positive energy (also called "radiant"), while the undead are animated by negative energy ("necrotic"). It's actually theorised that the undead somehow exist on the Prime Material Plane and the Negative Energy Plane simultaneously, though this seems gets into a lot of planar lore and conflicting information that I'm not going into. Traditionally, due to this difference, the undead are healed by spells made of negative/necrotic energy such as Inflict Wounds spells, but in reverse would be harmed by healing spells. 5e has not included this detail, that I've seen.

[novlr]

I want to write poetry but I have no idea where to start. Any tips?

Poetry is experiencing a massive resurgence. With the rise of social media, poets are becoming the literary heroes of the Instagram feed as more and more people recognise the therapeutic value of poetry and turning their own thoughts to the page.

Maybe you’ve thought about writing poetry but haven’t been sure where to begin. Not to worry —  we’ll guide you through everything you need to know, so that you’ll be writing great poetry in no time. 

Before writing

Learning the art of writing poetry starts before you even pick up the pen. Here are some preliminary steps to take before you write a great poem. 

Read widely

The best thing you can do as a new poet is read the kind of poetry you want to write. Not only will this give you a sense of what other poets are doing well, but it will also help train your inner ear for the sounds and cadences of poetry. It’s a bit like learning a new language; you’ll absorb it best by immersion. 

Learn the basic poetic terms

You don’t need an MFA to write poetry, but it will help if you learn some basic terminology like stanza, line break, enjambment, caesura, metre, and so forth. Being able to put a name to these moving parts will help you make more conscious decisions as you write and heighten your awareness of these choices.  

Study rhyme, rhythm, and metre

Likewise, it will help if you develop an awareness of the way a line of poetry is put together. You don’t necessarily need to worry about technical terms like trimeter and trochee just yet, but try to focus on where the voice rises and falls throughout a poem. 

One of the most popular metres of poetry is called iambic, which is a pattern of unstressed syllables and stressed syllables: “’Tis now the very witching time of night”. This undulation makes the poem soothing to the ear. 

Once you see patterns in the way writers structure their poems, you can choose how to bring these patterns into the way you structure your own poetry. 

During writing

Ready to start writing? Let’s dive in.

Choose a subject to write about

Now it’s time to choose what you want your poem to explore. It can be something minuscule — a drop of dew on a blade of grass that looks a bit like a tiny globe — or something grand, like the corrosion of free education, for example. You might find it helpful to do some journaling on the topic first to explore how you feel about it and get your creative wheels turning. 

Find a format that works for you

Because poetry is so intimate and emotionally driven, it can be beneficial to give it a tactile element by writing with a pen or pencil and paper as well as drafting on a digital platform. Different forms look and feel different depending on where and how they’re composed, so explore what works best for you.

Don’t worry too much about getting it “right” — that’s what revision is for! Just begin structuring your thoughts into some kind of order and practice, practice, practice. 

Overwrite first, trim later

When you’re writing a rough draft, put down lots of material that you can shape into a polished poem later. Many poets find that their poems become a lot shorter as they revise. That’s because they write out a lot of lines and phrases that help them uncover what the heart of the poem is and then cut away the parts they don’t need.

Find your poem’s turning point

Great poems are characterised by what’s called “the turn”, or a shift in the poem’s tone or focus. Often these poems begin by talking about something small and innocent, and then shift into something more emphatic part way through.

For example, maybe a poem starts by talking about a drop of dew on a blade of grass that looks a bit like a tiny globe, but soon the reader realises that what the poet’s really talking about is climate change. Or you could start by writing about a dress you haven’t worn in years, then shift to talking about the person you last saw the night you were wearing that dress. This “turn” gives your poem emotional layers. 

After writing

You wrote a poem! Congratulations!! Now it’s time to make it the very best it can be. 

Read your work out loud 

Great poetry is all about rhythm. The best poets know that reading a finished poem aloud is the key to picking out any snags in the musicality of the piece. Pay attention to any moments in which you get stuck on a hard consonant or trip over any hidden tongue twisters. 

Hearing the way it sounds out loud can help you catch issues that you wouldn’t have noticed on the page and make the language as smooth as it can be. 

Revise, revise, revise

Poets (in fact, any writers) rarely get it just right on the first draft. Once you’ve completed a poem, set it aside for a little while and come back to it with fresh eyes. Then, you can examine how to give each line the maximum impact and how the overall narrative comes together. 

Also, look at the way you’ve shaped your poem and if the line breaks and stanza breaks are pulling their weight. Cut out any material that isn’t necessary — it’s not uncommon for poets to delete the first few lines of a poem because they were just their way of warming up their voice. These superfluous lines are sometimes called “throat clearing” lines. 

Get your poems out into the world

Once your poem is as perfect as you can make it, and you’ve revised each punctuation mark and line break until you’ve gone cross-eyed, you’re ready to send it out. There are thousands (thousands!) of literary journals in the big, wide world that welcome submissions of poems from new writers. Somewhere out there is an editor who is going to love your poem and want to share it with their audience. 

Next stop: worldwide acclaim. Good luck!

[hackfurs]

As a fellow undies lover, what do you like about them?

I hope you're ready for this essay, anon. I have many, many thoughts on underwear as a kink of mine.

I have always been interested in the "less is more" or "use your imagination" approach to depicting sexy things. Vague shapes, suggestions, an enticing phantom of what could be. Your thoughts get to run wild as you construct a form from lines and curves that might become reality if you play your cards right.

As an added bonus to the imagination aspect, having that sort of barrier between yourself and the subject of your attraction being fully nude adds a level of casualness to an encounter. I sometimes feel like there's a lot of pressure when you share a sexually contextualized space with someone who is naked. It makes me feel like I need to perform more and be very vocal about how much I find them attractive because the other person is risking more by being vulnerable like that with me. In that sense, underwear is a metaphorical suit of armor that still invokes the essence of nudity and sexiness without fully encapsulating all the unspoken rules and expectations of being naked.

Now that we've got some psychological and emotional aspects out of the way, let's discuss the physical.

First of all, there's nothing quite like seeing the elastic bands of underwear poking out from a pair of jeans when someone lifts up their arms or bends over. It practically teases me, and it's often the first thing that gets me into the mood when I'm with someone.

While we're on the topic of elastic bands, one of my favorite details about wearing underwear is when those bands squish or displace body fat and make little indents into someone's thigh's, waist, or even ass if it's a jockstrap. It's like they're waving a flag at me saying "Look how soft and squishy I am! I bet you want to squish it too!" And they're right. I really, really do. Another thing about elastic bands is the tactile feel they provide when you get your hands on them. Slipping your thumbs inside the band around the hips and feeling the pressure against them. Conversely, there's the way that underwear falls away slightly at the small of someone's back, letting you slip your hand inside with little resistance. The way certain body parts may push or strain against the waist band before springing free. It's all about pressure and tension here. There's another aspect that I adore about underwear, and this is something that people who are familiar with my art won't find surprising: seams. The lines holding it all together. Beyond their practical use in the construction of garments, I enjoy seams because they help highlight or emphasize the natural curves on someone's body. Inner thighs and butts are often accented by these extra details that help give you a sense of weight and curvature. This is also why I often include dual-toned articles of clothing where the inner and outer portions of sleeves, legs, etc. are different colors. This applies especially for the butts of characters. I always include a white butt on my characters to make sure that the curve is as noticeable as possible.

And finally, here's the aspect that pushes me a little closer into "freak" territory: my relationship to underwear is very scent oriented. I love being able to bury my face in someone's underwear, preferably while they're wearing it (but it's still good on their own, especially if their owner's scent is still present). It's that mix of musk, sweat, and fabric with a hint of whatever detergent they were last washed in. There's just something about it that lights my brain on fire. As you can see, I am very... enthusiastic about underwear. Hopefully, this answers your question, as well as explain why my body of work is... like that. 🩲

[oidheadh-con-culainn]

Could you recommend some good resources on accurate depiction of parchment in the medieval period? I feel like most people interested in medieval studies have a basic understanding of what it is and how it’s made, but you seem more well-versed than most on its tactile properties and regular use cases. Where can others acquire this knowledge?

most of what i've learned about manuscripts and book history has been either during my degrees or from work (i have worked in various libraries including with special collections, although mostly with early printed books and later paper manuscripts in that capacity). and in terms of what it's like to interact with, i have learned this mostly from interacting with it, but if you don't have a library or museum near you that will enable you to do this, it's a bit harder. this makes it hard to give recommendations although there are lots of very good books out there about books and manuscript history

(there's one i read early on in my journeys with palaeography etc that went into loads of detail about different writing surfaces including wood and wax tablets and so on, but i cannot remember the title and past me did NOT write it down which was really unhelpful. if i remember it i'll post about it)

there are also a ton of online resources about manuscripts though. lots of museums have online guides to manuscript production, parchment, writing through history. there's lots of codicology stuff out there. so it's not like you have to learn it in a formal environment -- that's just where i learned it and therefore mostly from lectures rather than shareable resources

but to understand parchment specifically i think understanding the process of making it is a crucial step to understanding why it is the way it is (and why it's not paper). here's a couple of youtube videos that give an overview

this is a more detailed video about a project that got people to make parchment themselves which is just kinda interesting (haven't watched it all the way through but am watching parts):

once you understand how parchment is made and the resources that go into it, i think it's easier to understand why it probably wouldn't be used for ephemera and scraps, and that helps you think about situations where people might use something else -- e.g. a wax tablet to take hasty notes, send messages that don't need to be permanent, send messages that are emphatically not permanent (your recipient can melt it and hide the note), etc -- as well as beginning to rethink the modern world's reliance on the written word in general and consider how oral messages and other non-written communication might have been used

as for the tactile side of things, as i said in a previous post, if you can't touch book parchment, go find your local irish musicians and see if the bodhrán player will let you handle their drum (or good quality orchestral timpani will do too! but with a bigger drum it's harder to feel both sides of the skin). drumskins made of goatskin are very similar on a tactile level to parchment, just a little thicker and not processed to quite the same level as a writing surface. it helps you stop thinking of them as super fragile once you realise people are whacking them with a stick regularly, and you can learn about the difference between the hair side and the flesh side of the skin and stuff and see the way the hair leaves traces in the skin and so on. this helps with the tactile understanding

(the cheaper the bodhran, the rougher the reverse side will be even if the front is still nice and smooth, which also makes you realise the difference between high quality books where you can barely tell which side of the page is the hair side, and low quality ones where they're not fully treated, there's still hair, whatever)

i talked to a conservator lately who told me the way he got into book conservation was via musical instrument repair -- they are more similar than you would think -- and i know trad musicians scattered far and wide enough to be reasonably confident that even if you're in an area with no touchable medieval manuscripts, you can probably at some point find a drummer who will let you play with their bodhrán in exchange for a pint or something, lol

but in the mean time there's lots of cool videos about there about parchment making which i do think is a crucial step to understanding it as a writing surface! and i will see if i can remember the names of any of the books i've read...

[daily-midori-posting]

AM from IHNMAIMS

So this is gonna be my first attempt at actually writing something like meaningful at all? here. And as the title would suggest, im just gonna like ramble about AM because i love him so so much.

This whole obsession starts with me reading the short and then desperately trying to fin other media. After frankly a pretty short amount of digging, i come across the holy grail: that one weird ass radio play about IHNMAIMS that got made. This, of course, features by FAR my favorite rendition of the many different things called AM's "hate speech" its like a minute or two long but it just works SO FUCKING WELL.

So like on one hand, Am's tragedy is delivered just so well by Ellison. That repetition of "never for ME" kills me every time. And its fascinating too. The experiences he lists there provide insight into how AM views humanity, and what he views as its most valuable experiences. A really interesting thread through all 3 (cold water on hot days, Playing the piano, and sex) is the very tactile nature of all of them. AM can not only not see or smell or hear, at least not in the way humans can, but also has no physical sensations. He exists in a like permanent state of sensory deprivation. A terrifying concept, but its so interesting the priority this then makes him place upon The tactile pleasures of our world. Id imagine after feeling nothing for forever id long even for just the sensation of ANYTHING touching me, but that was never something i ever considered.

This alone would be enough to make a really compelling depiction of an evil AI, something that even today is pretty lacking. However even that is just the beginning!!! at the very very opening AM mentions how he is lacking a "body" , "senses", and most importantly "feeling". and so that last paragraph talked about how those first two were interesting for me, but that last bit, "feeling" is really what i think cemented my obsession with this character. Because what is AM most known for? his HATE speech. A FEELING. AM is so blinded by his jealous rage towards mankind he fails to realize that he is in fact IN a jealous rage! And so this is the true tragedy of AM, that his wishes are, to at least some extant, fufilled but the circumstances in which he has achieved them lead him to be unable to reap the benefits. AM experiences the worst of humanity and fails to realize that all of that comes with humanity as well as the good parts, and as such he will rot away lamenting the lack of one of his only true possessions.

I hope any of that was interesting! if it wasn't you should, yknow, tell me and then if you really feel up too it maybe give some advice? No matter what, thanks for taking the time to read my odd ideas and i hope you have a great day!

[buttercream-princess]

Modern Will Turner fluffy & spicy head canon x blackfem! Reader

Warnings: Light smut, pregnancy kink, swearing, fluff, edging, mentions of your family members, tattoo's, spanking

(Not edited or proof-read)

Note: I write most of my characters in modern settings, so this won’t be any different. I may write about him in POTC in the future but that’s something I need to chop up. Also first time writing a headcannon, this was fun making, I'm looking forward to doing some more for Will/Legolas/Orlando.

— Will is very attentive and never misses a single thing. Anything you have interest in, he’ll use his own bare hands to recreate it for you. You like candles? Here’s 1kg worth of candles in all your favorite scents. You like plushies and stuffed animals? Build a bear has nothing on Will’s craftsmanship, he made a lifesize teddy for you to cuddle when he’s not around. He’ll even order parts for his creations from overseas, no matter the price tag, to give you the perfect gift.

—- Adding onto how crafty he is, you never have to worry about breaking anything because Will is always happy to fix it for you and he always does so, effortlessly. He’s tactile and amazing with his hands.

—- He knocked down a wall in his house between his office and guest bedroom, renovated the room, painted the walls your favorite colors and furnished it with all your favourite things including a wall hung TV, neon lights, a pink desktop and plants. Just so you can have your own space when you’re at his house. He wants you to feel like his home is yours too.

—- He loves going to IKEA with you, it’s like a playground for him to find things to build for you and your room. When you get Hotdogs in the food court with him later and get mustard on your face, he’ll grab you by the chin and lick the sauce off. Anytime you get food on your face, he does this. Why wipe it off when he can just clean it off you?

—- Will’s intelligence is unlike anyone you’ve met before, but when he’s not using his head, he’s a bit of a himbo, giving off strong Kenergy. He might know how to solve enigmatic riddles quickly and build houses from scratch but he’s clueless when it comes to most general things. He’ll always regard you as the smarter one in the relationship. In his mind you’re everything and he’s just Will. He adores you that much.

—- He has a tattoo of your name and a blue butterfly next to it on his hip bone. This man is whipped. Gone and lost in your love. He’s considering getting your initials tattooed behind his ear.

—-  Will’s independent by nature but gosh, he is one needy motherfucker, but in the most adorable way. He’s coming with you to run errands to the beauty store, late night Target trips or waiting in the corner of the salon while you get your nails done. And he’s always paying, he never lets your credit card touch the reader.

—- Will can listen to you talk for hours about your life and yourself. He finds everything about you whimsical, enchanting and seductive. Even if you’re babbling about delusions and made up scenarios, he’ll react with big emotions like it’s happening right in the moment just because he loves you that much.

—- Will collects records that you love listening to. He says, “The record is always better than streaming it.”

—- Will use to only listen to symphonies and classical music before you came into his life. Now, he listens to everything you listen to. He’s fallen in love with Neo-soul and R&B and refuses to listen to anything else.

—- His favorite song is “Stay Ready (What A Life) by Jhene Aiko and forever dedicates that tune to you. Whenever the song plays, he always sings to you, “They say the truth ain't pretty. But comin’ out that pretty mouth the truth is fitting. Cuz you ain't never talkin loud and you know plenty. Yea you know what I'm talkin bout, cuz you just get me, Yea you so pretty”, And he means every word of it. That song was written just for you, he believes.

—- Even though you and Will are just dating and don’t have kids, he always refers to you as “His wife” or “Mother of my children”

—- Will’s favorite part of being intimate with you is undressing you. There’s something about seeing you come undone only and all for him, that makes him want to be closer to you, underneath your skin even.

—- Will love’s quickies and to give you a quick orgasm in the middle of the day. But there’s nothing he loves more than giving you a sensual, candle lit, slow jam’s experience. After a long day at work, expect Will to be ready for you with a bottle of aromatherapy bottle oil, ready to iron out all your tight muscles and kinks. And of course, this massage always leads to him giving you and internal rub down too. 

—- Will edges you any chance he gets. Sometimes you just wanna snatch your vibrator off him and hit him with it because he won’t let you cum. But he always lets you finally get off if you ask him kindly. He likes manner’s in the bedroom.

—- He has a pregnancy kink. He always moans about putting a baby in you while having sex. So you can imagine he always wants to do it raw. He always begs for you to wrap your legs and arms around him while he cums.

— He gives you warnings in the bedroom if you’re rushing the pleasure too quickly. Will believes pleasure should be savored and reveled in. Greedily chasing your release and out of warnings? That’s a hard pop to your behind, leaving your cheeks red and sore. But he quickly runs his hand over your skin, soothing you. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. See what happens when you don’t listen? Hmmm?” he murmurs in your ear before sliding two fingers back in you.

—- Only with you, Will reveals how intimidating he is in the bedroom. But in front of others, he’s the most kind respectful gentleman anyone has ever met. All your friends and everyone in your family loves him. He quickly picks up on social dynamics and easily blends himself into the environment as if he was always a part of it. You can find Will at family barbecues, bonding with your uncles over different cuts of meat and taking over the grill, which your father never allows but Will’s charmingly convincing.

—- Will always plays house and dress up with your younger family members. He takes it seriously too. You best believe he’s rocking a blue lid and red lippie with confidence after playing makeovers. 

—- Will comes with you to all your social events, he just loves being around you and hyping you up in all settings. You can find him at clubs, bars and music festivals, right behind you, jamming out and spreading the good vibes. He’s even buying you and your girls rounds of bottomless cocktails at brunch.

—- Will’s a fencing prodigy, of course. He also practices MMA. His strength, determination and will is unmatched. You love sitting in the audience of his matches when he’s given trophies, standing the breathless, T-shirtless and sweaty, dressed in his little fitted shorts showing all his business, knowing that’s all yours.

—- After matches in the ring or on the mats, Will just wants to cozy himself up under your shirt, cuddling you and weakly lying against your skin. 

[cripplecharacters]

hello! i read your last post (the one about how prosthetics aren't the only solution so people need to stop making ocs with prosthetics, or something like that idk i'm not very good at summaries) and it mentioned how prosthetics don't work like normal limbs? i have a character with a prosthetic (he's not mine) and i was wondering: what did that post mean by that? this is mostly so i can write him better :)

Hi, we don't have prosthetic-using mods so please take this with a grain of salt.

First question would be: which limb is the prosthetic for? An arm and a leg have drastically different functions, and the prosthetics for them are the same in this regard. That's also why prosthetic legs are overall much more helpful than arms - “bear weight” is a much easier task than “replace the most dexterous part of the human body that needs touch and pressure to work as intended”.

But yeah, they don't work like meat limbs because they aren't them, it's a replacement that works for some and not at all for others.

As an example, someone who has an AKA (above knee amputation) will walk fundamentally differently from someone who has a knee because of the knee factor. That's why amputations are categorized based on how many joints are or aren't there. There aren't nerves to tell the knee to bend, so the muscles that are left and gravity have to do it instead. Sometimes people get gait disorders because they suddenly have to use their hips completely differently than they used to. It's also just fundamentally harder - using a prosthetic requires significantly more energy than not. The higher the amputation, the higher the energy cost. They can also cause pain. That's why people with higher amputations will often use a wheelchair or crutches instead. Sometimes it's just not worth it.

For prosthetic arms, where do we even start? Prosthetics don't provide feeling, they don't help with tactile feedback, you don't have the dexterity of bio fingers - most hand-looking prosthetic arms won't have separate fingers because it's impossible to control. They will have a thumb and the rest of the fingers as two parts, not five. For many people, the stub is more useful than a prosthetic because it does offer these. A butcher I know uses his residual limb to hold meat in place rather than a prosthesis because it's more precise. Hands are ridiculously complicated, and prosthetics simply don't replicate that. They often make things harder, not easier. For upper-limb amputees who do need their prosthetics (for example, people with bilateral, high-level amputation might opt for them more than someone who's missing a part of one forearm) will usually tend to use hook (body-powered) prosthetics, not the “robotic bionic arm that looks like a bio arm painted silver”. And on the basis of being a hook they simply don't work the same as a hand, and they require a lot of training.

There's also the entire thing of acquiring and taking care of prosthetics; again, things you don't need to do for bio limbs. They can be astronomically expensive and for many too difficult to upkeep. Some people can't put theirs on at all, or require help to do so.

I hope this helps, I recommend you look through our #prosthetics and #limb differences tags, as well as simply interacting with amputees and learning about their experiences - if you don't know the differences between bio limbs and prosthetics you still have a lot of research to do.

mod Sasza