#so I tend to think my blog balanced

[cosmogyros]

That moment when you have to let people be wrong about you because correcting them would make you seem like an unbearable show-off

I was at a bookstore with a friend the other day and I was looking at a book in German that I was interested in buying, but then I saw that it was a translation and had originally been written in French

I commented idly to my friend "Sometimes I don't buy a book because it's a translation and I always prefer to read in the original language when possible" and she said in an agreeing-with-me way, "Yeah it would make more sense to read it in English"

and I realized she assumed I meant English when I said "original language"

but I couldn't bring myself to say "Yeah, or French or Dutch or Spanish or Italian or Portuguese or one of the other languages I read..." because like. who says that kind of thing.

[marsprincess889]

Yoni animal observations

I did something similar with nakshatras. This is them in a very simple way. This is based on traditional associations as well as my own observations of real life and art. 💕 The word "yoni", as well as meaning the female reproductive organ, also means "origin". Yoni animal represents the instinct of the nakshatra and ultimately, reveals its true core nature.

Also, disclaimer: it's very sad that I have to say this, and apologies if you're not one of those people, but if you're going to correct anything in this post by writing one or more long paragraphs of why you think I'm wrong, you might as well just start your own blog or make your own post about the subject. I've been observing yoni animals for years and I'm kind of sorry if any of this offends you, but I'm not trying to attack anyone personally, or even a specific placement (nakshatras in this case), cause that's just dumb. Of course, everyone is free to express their opinions but please do it politely and have some respect for the person who took their time to gain and share knowledge. It's very easy to correct others, it's very hard to be faultless yourself. So, factual corrections are always welcome(say someone got someone's chart placement wrong, or they have written a factually incorrect association, like if they were to write that Jyeshta is fierce as opposed to sharp/cruel in nature.), but, once again, everyone's view is different and so either respect mine or don't write anything at all.

With that being said, you can now enjoy this post💕

Horse yonis

Ashwini and Shatabhisha

Keywords: activity, simplicity, masculinity(solar/yang), independence, healing.

Straightforward people. They might tend to have black and white thinking, can be very blunt with their delivery and definitely prone to "deafness": not hearing others' views. Simple and utilitarian, goal-oriented. Their presence might not be really noticed until the moment they suddenly speak up about or act on something. Love to point stuff out. Either quiet or very precise while speaking. Not aggressive but can be combative. Most likely will oppose someone before making peace. Independence>sharing. Don't like anything "unnecessary", love to get to the point.

Elephant yonis

Bharani and Revati

Keywords: slow, authority, time, timelessness, strength, transitions, protection, completion, gentleness, complexity, depth.

Not revealing their innermost selves, only revealing it to a select group of people, if to anyone. They attach meaning to things based on their experiences. Protective and gentle with each other, closed off to most of the others. Very private. Not really concerned with trends. Observant but not quick to act. Can have many sides to them that some others might fail to understand. Have an air of wisdom, but not that of arrogance. Still, they are the most likely to knowingly take the high road but still protect their peace, making them very exclusive, although it's never for show. Defensive but quietly so. Accomodating to some degree on the outside, there's always more to them than what's obvious. See the bigger picture in every situation. They have a certain quiet strength and power. Nurture is important to them. Do not appreciate unnecessary aggression and try to dominate over anything they consider harsh/crude.

Sheep yonis

Krittika and Pushya

Keywords: precision, structure, minimalism, choosiness, contained.

Do not like excess in anything. They have a sense of balance, usually in almost everything. Prioritize sctructure and basics/essentials. Like clarity and clear-cut lines in their lives and around them. Can be snappy, but in a passive-aggressive way. Not harsh in a heavy/overwhelming way but still harsh about details. Have a soft demeanor with strangers and acquaintances, sometimes even people close to them in everyday life but can judge them quietly. Neutral to friendly on the outside, but if they have uncomfortable emotions they try hard to release them quietly/without much fuss. Might bottle up resentment in result. Very utilitarian and practical.

Snake yonis

Rohini and Mrigashira

Keywords: enjoyment, ease, materialism, basic awareness, growth, progress, sensory indulgence, instincts.

Very placid and calm. They focus mainly on material things but can live without luxuries, and can also share them, although privacy is very important to them. Very aware of their surroundings and their own presence. Attuned to their senses. Can get easily attached to people and things. Can exhibit selfish tendencies(or that's how it looks to others) when they feel like their desires are ignored, but Rohini and Mrigashira each do it differently.

Dog yonis

Ardra and Mula

Keywords: upheaval, critical point, rebelling, release, change, anchoring.

Tense but not frail. Might look tortured sometimes. Do not like to and probably even cannot focus on details, at least not how it's traditionally done(different to each situation). Like to display their individuality in one way or another. Dark humor or sassy comebacks. Either quiet or very loud, but either way, opinionated. If they're neutral then they're opinionated about being neutral. Can be kind of nihilistic but at peace with it. Contrarian and unapologetic. If they don't care about something you can't make them care. If they do care, they care intensely.

Cat yonis

Punarvasu and Ashlesha

Keywords: accumulation, buildup, purity, safety, protection, preservation, cycles.

Concerned with what influences them, not so much what they put out. Self-focused but also highly aware of others' needs. Can adapt to surroundings and can change their behavior based on what they need or really want. Not unkind but laser-focused on the boundaries. Always keep their cards close to their chest, not out of malice but simply to preserve their safety. Look more unnaproachable than they really are, and know more than they share with most.

Rat yonis

Magha and Purva Phalguni

Keywords: dispersion, creativity, planting seeds, the self.

Can be egocentric. Prideful and nonchalant. Love to show off. Might be aware of surroundings to some degree but even if they are, they rarely care. Getting what they want is the priority, along with self-expression. Not very moralistic, don't care much about labels. Sometimes they can be too detached. Will almost never catch them crying in front of others, although they can be dramatic if they want and can, without a problem, attract their dwsired attention. Their happiness is more warm and generous than loud and euphoric. Might have a poker face, they rarely show strong emotions. The strongest emotion I've seen them express is that of defensiveness, and that's not even an emotion. When they get defensive it's almost always because something has touched their pride or triggered their ego. Focused on what they can do.

Cow yonis

Uttara Phalguni and Uttara Bhadrapada

Keywords: stability, the long-term results, natural, softness, power/influence, unity, calm.

Stubborn. That's the only defense they have, because otherwise they're very soft. Naturally honest. They have an effortlessness about them that feels easy to be around, and they are pleasant to be around but not accepting of everyone. They avoid people they don't like from early on and stick to the ones they consider better. Not hesitant to defend themselves or people close to them, but not quick to waste that energy on just anyone, and when they do become defensive they still maintain "the high ground". Backing their allies and fighting proudly is natural for them. Again, very stubborn, so they rarely, if ever, give up on something important. Although they're tough, they're not sharp or cruel. They are mostly in a state calmness and assuredness rather than anxious defensiveness. Very fixed and comfortable in their ways.

Buffalo yonis

Hasta and Swati

Keywords: materialism, gain, comfort, strength, feminine(yin), ease.

More attached to material things than other yonis. Individuality is defined through connections and surroundings. Love comfort and ease. Interdependence>independence. Can be curiously neutral and accomodating. Self-focused but not selfish. Often phlegmatic and slow. Genuinely caring but can be cunning. Not the most direct people. They will let others know their views but won't push them aggressively on others. Almost everything about them is filtered through that neutrality.

Tiger yonis

Chitra and Vishakha

Keywords: building, gradual, defensive, expression, buildup.

The most defensive. Can look sweet on the outside but are not all soft. Can range from extremely forgiving to extremely vengeful. Aggression comes out while speaking. Rarely, if ever, present in a state of calm melancholy. They moreso go from happy/fun to agitated. Focused on development/building, and always look for more than what's natural for them. Witty but emotionally so. If they're highly agitated, it's very hard for them to exercise restraint in the moment. Not that direct in general but unfiltered during critical moments. It's easy for them to put on a mask, whether out of neccessity or just for fun. Can be very judgemental. If they're not aware, it can make them act in a "mean" way when they feel not their best.

Rabbit/Deer yonis

Anuradha and Jyeshta

Keywords: society, organization, status quo, responsibility, transpersonal, maturing.

Very non-aggressive on the inside, despite how they might look. Naturally have endurance and a sense of responsibility. Can be judgemental but also understanding. Love to give advice. Competitive but respectful. Can become arrogant. Love everything "classic" but want to establish their own, new structures. Choosy and sometimes exclusive. More warm than they appear, and capable of more emotions than how it seems. Often traditionally intelligent. Have a very civilized behavior.

Vanar yonis

Purva Ashadha and Shravana

Keywords: flow, alliances, connections, support, creation and preservation.

Good at reading between the lines, anything too structured is harsh for them. Otherworldly aura/mannerisms. Most likely to posses what others might consider as "quirks". Value their own individuality and uniqueness. Seeks to be different from what they consider boring, normal or basic. Not very reactive. When they get defensive, they get quiet. Can romatisize sadness and melancholy. Capable of seeing both sides but are often willingly biased.

Mongoose yoni

Uttara Ashadha

Keywords: independence, solitude, practicality, victory.

Truly neutral and unbothered. Value honesty and integrity. Not attached to material things at all. Easy to be around but their regal nature might put some people ill at ease. Naturally take on leadership positions. Might feel lonely but won't trade solitude for tiring/uninteresting company. Value practicality and simplicity, and are practical themselves. Surprsingly warm and feeling in certain moments, but can also be uncaring towards others.

Lion yonis

Dhanishta and Purva Bhadrapada

Keywords: notoriety, flashiness, power, aggression, pride.

Very unfiltered and loudly so. Unashamed and bold, proud. That pride and confidence fuels their calmness, but they can lack patience. In everyday interactions they can look very unreactive but if something "triggers" them, they will not hesitate to be a little(or not so little) aggressive. Love to spread their influence. Might strongly dislike anything that looks subtle and quiet to them, as it arises distrust in them. Rarely, if ever, use/appreciate sarcasm. They prefer directness. Can slip into being a bully, or can become a proud voice for others.

[cripplecharacters]

How do you think multi-use public restrooms could be reconfigured to better accommodate wheelchair/crutch/cane users in a roughly modern setting? (By multi-use, I mean the ones with a line of stalls rather than a whole room with one toilet).

I always thought it ironic that the large stall tends to be at the end of the line and believed it may be better to have that reversed (large stall first). Is that a sensical thought? What other suggestions would you have besides a lower sink and, of course, room to move the wheelchair/crutch/cane?

Although this setting is roughly modern in terms of technology ability and knowledge, feel free to provide your most creative answers. I'd even appreciate a difference between slight changes in real universe that would make an impact vs alternate modern universe where accessibility was thought of by default. All stalls are large? Better layout than a single file line of stalls? Etc.

Thank you for your time!

Hello!

I have... a LOT of thoughts about this. For reference, I use a cane full time and have used a wheelchair in the past when it was needed, though I no longer have access to it (I was borrowing my boyfriend's old one but have since moved cities).

So a few things:

Grab bars in every stall. These are the metal bars along the side of the stall that you usually see in accessible stalls. They're used to help people with stability/balance issues sit and stand from the toilet. There are a lot of people who only use the accessible stall because they need the support of the grab bars. If these were in every stall, it would open up the larger accessible stall for people who need it for the other supports (More space, the emergency call cord, etc.). These are relatively cheap and easy to install too.

Hand sanitizer dispensers in the accessible stall or, ideally, in every stall. These are another thing that's relatively cheap and easy to install and would benefit everyone. I usually carry hand sanitizer on me anyways because I dislike the idea of using my cane before washing my hands. This would also help people who have the same problem with their wheelchair (Not wanting to touch the wheels before washing their hands), people with sensitivities to hand soaps, and even just people who want to use them.

More accessible stalls. This one is a bit less realistic to hope for as it would be more expensive and difficult to change but it would also be one of the most beneficial, especially in places where there are lots of disabled people coming and going at once. I'm thinking places like hospitals, school accessibility offices, etc. but also places with large amounts of people in general like stadiums and event venues.

Also just more stalls in general. Especially in the men's washroom. I keep meaning to write a post about this for my own blog but it's an issue I think about a lot. It's 2024 and there's STILL a lot of men's washrooms where I live that either only have one stall (Usually an accessible stall) or don't have stalls at all. I'm sure it's some sort of 'ADA/AODA/whatever it is where you are' violation but it's also a problem for trans people, people that are shy, kids, people that just prefer to sit, the elderly, etc. It's kind of ridiculous that this is still a thing in 2024.

More actual fully accessible washrooms. These are not at all feasible for a multiuse washroom (The kind you're referring to) but should be in addition to one. With this, I'm referring to a large washroom with adult-sized changing tables, emergency call cords, lots of space, large garbage cans, sharps containers, etc. This is something that I rarely see even in hospitals but it's so important for people that have caretakers and need that extra support. As for the sharps container, it can be very beneficial for people that need to inject medication and it's something I wish that more places had. (My general alternative is to cap the needle and return it to my "pouch" in a separate pocket from the unused ones)

Having everything in reach of the toilet. By this, I mean things like toilet paper, garbage bins, sinks (If they're in the stall), hand sanitizer dispensers, etc. This is usually already the case with toilet paper and such but it's incredibly annoying and difficult to navigate when this isn't the case.

Also just having garbage bins in all stalls (Or, at least, in all washrooms). A lot of women's washrooms already have this in some capacity but most men's washrooms don't even have a garbage bin in the main section of it (Outside the stalls). This is another thing that would be incredibly easy and cheap to do and would help so many people including disabled people that need to discard medical supplies (Catheters and incontinence supplies are the big ones that come to mind since it's not sanitary or easy to discard of them elsewhere whereas you can easily pocket an empty medication bottle or bandage remnants to throw away later), people who need to throw away sanitary products, even just people who use toilet paper to blow their nose or something. There's literally so many uses and I don't see any downside to this at all.

More hooks in stalls to hang things like jackets and bags. This is something I see a lot in the regular stalls but strangely not as often in the accessible stalls. Which... seems especially odd to me as a lot of us rely on things like small, over-the-shoulder bags and fanny packs as we don't always have access to both hands to carry things. These would also be beneficial to hang things like canes (I'm mostly thinking of white canes, which usually have a fabric loop on the end) while using the toilet. This is another super cheap and easy thing that can be done and would benefit everyone.

More accessible doors to washrooms. For whatever reason a lot of the multi-use washrooms where I live don't have accessible doors and it's incredibly frustrating and inconvenient to be fighting for my life to open a door when I already need to pee. Just... not fun.

The placement of the accessible stalls is an issue too, just usually not in the way most people would assume. At least for my boyfriend and I, it's more of a problem when the washrooms are crowded. I'm thinking of our recent experience at a concert where we had to navigate through the crowd to reach the very far end where the stall was. Not a huge thing or something that happens all that often, but it is annoying.

The other thing that comes to mind is lower sinks and also having the paper towels, hand dryers, or what not closer to the sinks. It's incredibly annoying and uncomfortable to have to use a cane, wheelchair, or crutches when you have soggy hands just to get to the dryer. This isn't something that's too hard to implement in most cases but it could be expensive depending on what drying method is used (Such as hand dryers versus paper towel dispensers). This is another reason that I usually use my hand sanitizer instead.

Aside from the facilities themselves (And this is less for mobility disabilities and more general accessibility), things like having braille on the signs as well as clear symbols if the washroom is separated by male vs female. None of those minimalistic aesthetic ones. Not everyone can differentiate by those.

There are countless others but I think I've spoken enough about this for one post 😅. Hopefully some of this is helpful.

Cheers!

~ Mod Icarus

[novaursa]

The Secret Flame

- Summary: You sneak out of the Red Keep again. And as alway, Harwin is there to chase you down.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Harwin Strong

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, is twin sister of Rhaenyra and has striking resemblance to her grandmother, Alyssa. For more of my works visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 3 599

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

- A/N: I've never posted anything so fresh in my life. This work is just written, like a few minutes ago. I don't usually post my works so soon. They tend to sit way longer before being posted, especially if they are supposed to be made into a series. Those works are posted once all parts are complete, or way, way close to being done. I've slept like two hours, maybe. My blood is 90% coffee. Luckily, it's my day off. 😅 As always, I'll see how you guys like this before it becomes something larger. Enjoy! ❤️

The chill of the night air is a welcome contrast to the stifling warmth of the Red Keep as you slip quietly through the hidden passageways beneath Maegor’s Holdfast. You’ve navigated these shadowy tunnels since you were a child, memorizing each twist and turn like a whispered secret shared only with you. The cool stone beneath your hands feels like freedom as you push through the last concealed door, emerging into the moonlit streets of King’s Landing.

The city is alive, even in the depths of night. You breathe in the scent of the sea mingled with smoke and distant perfumes, savoring the feeling of anonymity that only these stolen excursions bring. You’ve always felt as if you were a dragon bound in chains within the walls of the Keep, and here, at least for a little while, you are free.

You keep your hood low, concealing the distinctive silver-gold hair that marks your heritage. The cobblestones beneath your feet are slick from the earlier rain, and the shadows dance with flickering torchlight as you weave through narrow alleys, away from the watchful eyes of your father’s guards.

The tension between you and your father has grown unbearable in recent moons. He sees in you too much of his mother, Alyssa, and perhaps that is why he clings so tightly. You can’t breathe under his watchful eye, can’t stretch your wings when he’s always hovering, reminding you of duty, decorum, and the precarious balance of the realm.

But here, no one knows you as the princess, no one sees the crown’s burden pressing down on your shoulders. Here, you are simply a shadow among shadows.

The night hums with the distant laughter of taverns and the murmurs of lovers hiding from prying eyes. You’re about to turn a corner when a rough hand reaches out from the darkness, yanking you into an even darker alley.

“Now what’s a fine lady like you doing alone in these parts?” A low, sneering voice slithers out from the gloom. You tense, instinctively reaching for the dagger hidden at your hip, but there’s no time to draw it before you’re shoved roughly against the wall. Two more men step into view, all grinning like wolves who’ve cornered a lost lamb.

“You’re far from home, aren’t you?” one of them taunts, his breath reeking of stale ale. 

You glare up at them, defiance burning in your eyes. “I assure you, you’ve made a grave mistake tonight,” you hiss, your voice edged with the fire that runs through your blood.

“Is that so?” The leader laughs, leaning in closer. “I think we’ve found ourselves a little bird with some fight.”

Before you can spit back a retort, there’s a sharp whistle from the shadows, and suddenly the men stiffen. The leader barely has time to turn before a strong hand grabs his collar and slams him face-first into the wall beside you. He crumples to the ground with a groan.

“Seems you lot forgot whose streets you’re crawling through,” a familiar voice says, smooth as velvet and rich with amusement.

Ser Harwin Strong steps into the faint light, his broad frame and easy confidence radiating a quiet authority that sends the other two men stumbling back in fear. His hand rests on the pommel of his sword, but it’s the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth that unsettles them more.

“Run along, boys, before you find yourselves missing fingers or worse,” he advises in a tone that suggests he’s making them a very generous offer.

They don’t need to be told twice, bolting into the night like startled prey. Harwin watches them go before turning his attention to you. The glint in his dark eyes tells you he’s more amused than surprised to find you here, as if he half-expected it.

“You have a peculiar way of taking your nightly strolls, princess,” he says, the smirk widening into a grin. “I should have known I’d find you stirring up trouble.”

You roll your eyes, gathering your composure as you adjust your cloak. “I can handle myself, you know.”

“Clearly,” he chuckles, giving a pointed look at the discarded dagger still in your hand. “But I doubt King Viserys would agree if he knew his daughter was sneaking into Flea Bottom on a whim.”

You lift your chin defiantly. “I wasn’t in Flea Bottom.” 

He arches a brow. “You’re not far from it.”

Silence hangs between you, broken only by the distant clamor of the city. The moonlight catches the chestnut in Harwin’s eyes as he studies you, his expression softening into something less playful and more sincere. “Y/N… You know I can’t let you stay out here. I’m supposed to be your protector, after all.”

“Are you my guard now, too? I thought you were just Rhaenyra’s Gold Cloak protector.”

His lips twitch at that. “Rhaenyra doesn’t run off nearly as much as you do.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, stepping away from the wall and back toward the street. “You’re insufferable, Harwin.”

“And you’re reckless,” he counters, reaching for your arm as if to steer you back toward the Keep. “Come on, before you get us both into even more trouble.”

But you’re not done with the night just yet. You twist free of his grip, darting back into the alley. “Catch me if you can, Ser Breakbones!”

For a heartbeat, Harwin simply stares after you, caught between disbelief and admiration. Then he shakes his head with a low chuckle and gives chase, the sound of his footsteps pounding behind you as you race through the winding streets.

The thrill of it all—the wind in your hair, the laughter bubbling in your chest, and the sound of Harwin’s voice calling your name—feels like flying. You know he’ll catch you eventually, but for now, you’re just out of reach, teasing the line between freedom and the inevitable return to your gilded cage. 

But that’s part of the dance, isn’t it? The chase, the daring escapes, and the knowledge that while he may be tasked with returning you to safety, a part of him enjoys the game just as much as you do.

And for tonight, that’s enough.

The pounding of your heart echoes in your ears as you dart through the narrow streets, your feet barely skimming the cobblestones. Harwin is right behind you, his heavy boots making it clear he’s gaining ground. You can’t help the exhilarated laugh that slips past your lips, feeling the cool night air whip through your hair. For a brief moment, you almost wish he wouldn’t catch you, just so you could revel in the rush of freedom a little longer.

But then you hear his voice—low, deep, laced with a blend of exasperation and amusement. “Y/N, you’re only making this worse for yourself!”

You glance back just in time to see the determined gleam in his eyes, and before you can react, his hand closes around your wrist. You let out a surprised gasp as he spins you, tugging you close until your chest is flush against his. You can feel the heat radiating from him, his breath ghosting over your lips as he stares down at you with a mixture of desire and reprimand.

“You truly are a wild thing, aren’t you?” His voice is husky, rough with the thrill of the chase.

“Perhaps,” you murmur, a sly smile tugging at your lips, “but you seem to enjoy it.”

Without giving him a chance to respond, you tug him into the shadowed alleyway beside you. The darkness wraps around you both, cloaking you from any prying eyes that might still be wandering the streets. There’s a moment of tension, of anticipation crackling between you like lightning in a summer storm.

You push him back against the stone wall, your hands fisting in the front of his tunic as you pull him down to meet your lips. The kiss is fierce, hungry—born of a shared need that has simmered beneath the surface for far too long. Harwin’s hands are quick to respond, gripping your waist with a possessive strength that sends shivers down your spine. He tastes of salt and warmth, of nights spent in armor and the fire that burns within him.

There’s no room for words now, just the frantic rustle of fabric as your fingers work to loosen his breeches, his own hands tugging at the ties of your skirts. The air is thick with the scent of desire, mingled with the cool, damp earth and stone around you. Your breath comes in ragged gasps as you free him, your bodies already pressing together with the desperate anticipation of what’s to come.

When he moves into you, it’s with a practiced ease that speaks of all the times you’ve stolen moments like this before. Your head falls back, a soft moan escaping your lips as he fills you, the familiar stretch and heat drawing gasps from both of you. For a heartbeat, you both remain still, savoring the way you fit together, the way your bodies seem to crave this connection as much as your hearts do.

“Gods, Y/N,” Harwin groans, his voice low and strained. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

You smile against his lips, your nails digging into his shoulders as you start to move, setting a rhythm that’s as familiar as it is intoxicating. “Better than dying in the Keep, caged and suffocated,” you manage to whisper, your voice breathy with desire.

He lets out a deep, rumbling laugh, but the sound quickly fades into a grunt as your hips grind against his. The tempo between you quickens, each thrust driven by pure, unbridled need. There’s a primal urgency in the way you cling to each other, as if the world outside these walls doesn’t exist, as if all that matters is this moment, this passion, this escape.

His hands grip your thighs, lifting you slightly as he presses you harder against the wall, deepening the angle until you’re both lost to the rhythm of your bodies. Every movement draws a gasp, a moan, a whispered name into the darkness. Your nails rake down his back, desperate to hold onto the sensation building within you. He’s rough and tender all at once, his control fraying with each stroke as he buries his face in the curve of your neck.

“Y/N… you drive me mad,” he rasps, his breath hot against your skin.

You bite down on your lip, stifling a cry as he hits a particularly sensitive spot, pleasure coiling tight in your belly. “Good,” you manage, your voice breaking on the word as your hands slide into his hair, tugging him closer, demanding more.

The pace is relentless now, both of you moving in sync, lost in the frantic need to reach that edge together. You’re barely aware of anything but the feeling of him inside you, the way your bodies collide with a desperate intensity. His name slips from your lips again and again, a plea, a prayer, as the pleasure builds to an unbearable peak.

When release finally crashes over you, it’s like wildfire spreading through your veins. Your body trembles, tightening around him as you shatter, a cry breaking free from your throat. Harwin isn’t far behind, his grip bruising as he thrusts deep one final time, a guttural groan spilling from his lips as he finds his own release. He holds you there, chest heaving, his forehead pressed against yours as you both ride out the last waves of pleasure together.

For a long moment, there’s only the sound of your ragged breathing mingling in the darkness. The intensity slowly ebbs away, leaving behind a warmth that’s almost tender as you both come back to yourselves. Harwin’s thumb traces a gentle line along your jaw, his eyes soft as he studies your flushed face.

“Reckless, wild, and impossible,” he murmurs, but there’s no scolding in his tone, only fondness.

You lean into his touch, a contented smile tugging at your lips. “And yet you keep coming back, Ser Harwin.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips, slow and sweet this time. “How could I not? There’s no taming a dragon, but gods be damned if I don’t love the fire.”

For a moment, you allow yourself to savor the warmth of his embrace, the comfort of his presence in the midst of all the chaos that defines your life. But the night is waning, and the world beyond this alleyway is still waiting.

Reluctantly, you begin to disentangle yourself, smoothing your skirts and adjusting your cloak. Harwin mirrors you, straightening his tunic and tightening the laces of his breeches. There’s a lingering heat in his gaze as he watches you, as if he’s already thinking about the next time he’ll chase you through these streets.

“Come,” he finally says, extending his hand with a grin. “I suppose I should get you back before anyone notices your absence… though I doubt I’ll be able to explain why you’re looking so disheveled.”

You smirk, taking his hand as you step back out into the moonlight. “That’s your problem, Ser Breakbones. I’ll leave the excuses to you.”

With a chuckle, he leads you back toward the Red Keep, but not before stealing one last kiss under the stars, a reminder that, for all the rules and restrictions of your world, some fires simply can’t be contained.

The flickering light of the hearth casts dancing shadows on the walls of the private dining chamber, illuminating the worn but sturdy wooden table where Lord Lyonel Strong and his son, Ser Harwin, sit across from one another. The aroma of roasted meats and spiced wine fills the room, yet Harwin barely touches his food, his mind lost in thought as he absently stirs his cup of wine. 

Lyonel watches his son with keen eyes, noting the subtle tension in his posture, the way his gaze drifts toward nothing in particular as if he’s waging some silent battle within himself. They’ve shared these private dinners often, moments away from the demands of the court, but tonight there’s a charged undercurrent in the air that neither man can ignore.

After a long silence, Lyonel clears his throat and decides it’s time to broach the subject. “You seem distracted, Harwin. A rare occurrence for you.” His tone is gentle, probing, as he carefully measures his son’s reaction.

Harwin’s head snaps up as if he’s been startled out of his thoughts. He forces a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s nothing, Father. Just tired, perhaps.”

Lyonel isn’t convinced, but he decides to tread forward nonetheless. He takes a deliberate sip of his wine before speaking, choosing his words with the precision of a man accustomed to walking the tightrope of politics. “There’s been much discussion in the Small Council of late regarding alliances and… strategic marriages.”

Harwin tenses slightly, though he tries to mask it with a casual nod. “That’s always the way of things, isn’t it? Who’s being sold to whom for power and coin this time?”

Lyonel’s eyes narrow, noting the edge in his son’s voice. “In this case, it concerns someone close to you. The King is making plans for Princess Y/N. It appears he’s leaning toward a betrothal to the heir of House Blackwood.”

The words hang heavy in the air, and for a moment, Harwin’s face betrays nothing. But Lyonel’s sharp eyes catch the brief flicker of something—shock, anger, and something dangerously close to despair—before Harwin schools his features into a stoic mask. 

He swallows hard, the lump in his throat making it difficult to speak. “House Blackwood,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “She’s… she’s to be sent away, then.”

Lyonel arches a brow, watching the way his son’s knuckles whiten as he grips the edge of the table. “It would seem so,” he replies slowly, studying every nuance of Harwin’s reaction. “The marriage would be advantageous for the realm—bringing the Riverlands more firmly into the fold, securing loyalties through blood ties.”

Harwin’s gaze drops to his plate, the food now entirely forgotten. His mind races, a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions churning within him. The mere idea of Y/N being wed to someone else—of her being taken away to some distant castle, away from the Red Keep, away from him—it’s unbearable.

And Lyonel sees it, clear as day. The horror settles over him like a weight as he begins to piece together what Harwin’s response truly means. He knows his son—knows that Harwin has never been one to be so easily unsettled. For him to react this way… there must be something more, something deeper beneath the surface.

“Harwin,” Lyonel says, his voice now laced with a quiet urgency. “You’re taking this news rather hard, considering it is not your place to determine who the princess marries. Why does this trouble you so?”

Harwin clenches his jaw, fighting to keep his emotions in check. But his father’s probing gaze is relentless, cutting through the defenses Harwin has so carefully constructed over the years. “It’s not—” he begins, but the words catch in his throat. He can’t find a plausible excuse, can’t weave a tale that would satisfy his father without revealing too much.

Lyonel’s expression darkens as he begins to draw his own conclusions, his shrewd mind piecing together the puzzle. His eyes widen slightly in realization, a flicker of disbelief crossing his features before settling into grim understanding. “Harwin…” he breathes, the name laced with a mixture of disappointment and concern. “Tell me you haven’t done something foolish.”

Harwin’s silence is damning. His hands tighten into fists on the table as he struggles to find the words, his heart pounding in his chest. He doesn’t need to confirm it; his father already knows.

The weight of Lyonel’s realization crashes down like a hammer. He leans back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face as he exhales a long, weary breath. “Gods help us,” he mutters, more to himself than to Harwin. “You’ve gone and entangled yourself with the princess, haven’t you?”

Harwin’s gaze remains fixed on the table, shame and defiance warring within him. He knows there’s no point in denying it now. “It wasn’t supposed to happen,” he admits hoarsely, his voice thick with emotion. “But I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t stop myself.”

Lyonel closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as the full implications settle in. “You fool. Do you have any idea what this could mean? What could happen if this gets out? The scandal, the danger—not just to you, but to her?”

“I know,” Harwin snaps, his voice strained, as if the very acknowledgment of the truth is tearing him apart. “But I… I care for her, Father. More than I should. More than I’ve ever cared for anyone.”

The raw confession hangs in the air, and for a moment, Lyonel can only stare at his son with a mixture of anger and pity. He sees the turmoil in Harwin’s eyes, the desperate, reckless need that has clearly consumed him. This isn’t just a passing infatuation or a dalliance. It’s something far deeper, something that could lead to ruin if it’s not carefully managed.

“Harwin,” Lyonel finally says, his voice low and grave, “you’ve put us all in a precarious position. If the King suspects, if the wrong person finds out, it could be the end of not just you, but our entire house. You must let her go. The marriage will happen, and you cannot interfere. Do you understand me?”

Harwin’s fists tremble as he fights back the overwhelming urge to protest, to scream that it’s impossible, that he can’t just let her go. But he knows his father is right. He knows the reality of their situation, knows that they are both trapped in a world of politics, duty, and expectations that neither of them can escape.

“I understand,” he finally grits out, though the words feel like ashes on his tongue.

Lyonel’s gaze softens slightly, a hint of sympathy bleeding into his stern expression. “I do not doubt your feelings, son, but some battles are not meant to be fought. And this is one you cannot win. You must think of what’s at stake.”

Harwin doesn’t respond, unable to trust himself to speak without betraying the depth of his anguish. Instead, he nods stiffly, forcing himself to swallow the pain that threatens to overwhelm him. He can’t imagine a future where Y/N belongs to someone else, where she’s out of his reach, but he knows he may have no choice in the matter.

Lyonel watches him with a heavy heart, knowing he’s asking the impossible of his son but also knowing it’s the only way to avoid disaster. “Be careful, Harwin,” he warns quietly, his voice tinged with regret. “Love is a powerful thing, but it can also be a weapon if wielded recklessly. Do not let it destroy you.”

The room falls into silence once more, the crackling fire the only sound between them. Harwin’s gaze remains fixed on the flames, but his thoughts are far from the warmth of the hearth. They’re with her—always with her—no matter how impossible the road ahead may seem. And even as he tells himself to let go, to do what’s expected, he knows in his heart that the fire between them isn’t something he can simply snuff out. It burns too bright, too fiercely, and like all dragonfire, it may yet consume them both.

[dreamerinthemoonlight]

Genshin Cuddles HCs (Cyno, Tighnari, Xiao)

I am having a huge burst of creative energy. I should be going to bed but NO! I will think of cuddling with the genshin boys. This is going to be weird. Awake me takes no responsibility for what sleep deprived me does. Reader is assumed to be short because I am and this is a self insert, hehe;  slight angst in Xiao's (I mean, it's Xiao)

A/N: Good gods, I really was tired when I did this. I had next to no formatting, a childish Authors note. To anyone who read this on my other blog, I am really, really sorry. I won't promise it won't happen again, so I'll apologize in advance for any future instances of sleepy posting.

I did my best to extent Tighnari's a little. Our fox-boy deserves more than a few sentences

Cyno x gn!reader, Tighnari x gn!reader, Xiao x gn!reader

Cyno

Mr. Serious Mahamatra is actually an amazing cuddler

He's a settled person so he's not going to fidget and squirm. He could probably cuddle for hours if you both had time.

Spooning is very much a favorite. Especially if you've had a long day, the two of you will lay in bed. He'll press himself against you back, wrapping his arms around you and pressing his lips into your hair. Even though he's one of the smaller Genshin guys, he's warm and radiates this steady, grounded energy. Being the little spoon makes you feel safe and cared for. More often than not you fall asleep when spooning.

On the other hand, when Cyno gets home after a long mission, you'll curl up on the couch with his head on your chest

After the darkness that permeates his job, your heartbeat represents light and life and goodness. He values the time spent listening to your heartbeat just as much as he values rules and justice. It's a balance he needs and he knows it.

Tighnari

You know how kittens will curl up in little piles, facing each other and all and it is really, really cute?

Yea, that's you and Tighnari

You'll kinda burrow into each other and he'll wrap his tail around your legs

He'll even yet you scratch his ears while he pets your hair. No sleeping really ever happens like this, but it's so relaxing you might as well have taken a nap

If you're cuddling because you had a really bad day, you two might spoon, or you'll sit on his lap while he holds you and lets you pet his tail.

If you happen to fall asleep while cuddling his tail like a stuffed animal, he's fine with it, but is glad there's no one around to take a picture because that would just be embarrassing.

Xiao

Xiao is probably so touch starved it's stupid

Once he starts getting physical affection and serious cuddles, he realizes that he actually really needs it not that you mind

Like Cyno the type of cuddles depends on the situation

He's not as into spooning, though it does happen especially late night when you're tired and ready to sleep. I think he really wants to be able to see your face and even in Teyvat physics don't really allow for that when spooning

Instead, when you're the one who needs comfort and touch, you snuggle up to his side and he wraps his arm around you. As usual he doesn't say much,  but with Xiao, he really lets his actions speak for him

When he needs the comfort, he tends to want you on his lap where his can bury his face in the crook of your neck. He wraps his arms tight around you like he's scared to let you go.

It's all you can you to stroke his hair or gently rub his back. Just like his actions speak louder than words, your actions are more likely to reach him than platitudes, though you make sure to use your words as well. He really could use them

And sometimes you're just in the mood to cuddle at which point it depends on when and where. His head in your lap, yours in his, honestly, all he cares about is being able to see your face and be in contact with you

[lutethebodies]

OTP Vibes Game: “Our Days Are Numbered”

Belatedly answering a tag by @mogruith (one of my most dangerously reliable enablers, whose post about Coranzan and Minthara is here). "Belated" for reasons both substantial (IRL work hit me this week) and silly (I'm not embarrassed to say I had to look up what "OTP" means). I tried to follow my asker's moodboard/vibes idea, but I totally failed, so this one’s a bit long below the cut. 

However I do list links to where I've yapped even more extensively about my OTP for anyone who isn't sick of them after over a year. I'll also follow my asker's no-tagging example to keep my cringe relatively contained, but whomever wants to pick this up from me is welcome to; please tag me if you do.

Rules: Post some pictures of your OTP and their vibes, some info, and a song or songs that fit their vibe. That's it. Edit as you please.

As always, mash that readmore for choice goodies:

Pictures and Vibes

I tend to recycle my same fave images of these two, and since those are in their tag and the links below, I staged some Cannor x Minthara non-cutscene snaps in Photo Mode for (slightly) better poses/image quality: their view from Wyrm's Lookout (scroll down here for original), a nice day in the park becomes an unexpected impasse (original), hecklers beware (original), and a conference at the map table (original). Have another "second scene" closeup too, why not.

This couple's vibe is a balanced combination of "culture shock" with "home and purpose," a resolutely solid shell protecting a soft, devoted center. It’s them against the world, but tactful, covert, intentional. The glue is their maturity, which helps them endure both the unique circumstantial crisis that mashed them together (the BG3 worm-brain plot) and (for however long it lasts) their post-game relationship. Wish them luck, because they're gonna need it.

As a musical lute-and-lyre duo, they’ve taken on the band name “Lute the Bodies” (I think they’re established enough on here to carry the blog’s name), but their true name is “Our Days Are Numbered” (which may not be substantial enough for a fic, but could be for a song), because they’re grown-up enough to be realistic about appreciating each day together as it comes.

Info and Songs

If you have the patience for a middle-aged man going cringe-long about his headcanons and pixel dolls, here's a selection of links related to them both: 

Cannor x Minthara Culture Shock (their relationship rundown)

The Lost Singer, Part 1 and Part 2 (Cannor background)

OC Questions, Revealing OC Asks, and Your Character as a Feeling (Cannor vibes) 

The Misunderstood Blunt Instrument (Minthara headcanons)

Escape and Endurance (more Minthara headcanons)

As for songs (by other people, at least, because Cannor has 7 of his own and Minthy's covering an 8th), how about I pull five faves from my resolutely middle-aged “Nightwarden After Hours” playlist, which loosely tracks their romance:

The Desperate Kingdom of Love - PJ Harvey

Outro (AKA I’m a Fool to Want You) - M. Ward

This Lullaby - Queens of the Stone Age

Night Light - Sleater-Kinney

Take Me With You - Morphine

Pictures (Part 2: Photo Mode Yearbook)

“Yearbook” in that they’re softer/sillier/cheesier but no less valid, as any airbrushed teen knows.

Thanks again to my asker! I'm always down for this stuff.

[thechekhov]

How often would you say that you draw comics and art while also focus on the other things in life; work, family, etc?

Like, for example, if you had an exact number of minutes, hours, or days of drawing, what is an estimate per day or week? I'm just curious.

Honestly, it's difficult to count since my workweeks tend to vary based on the season but here's a quick example:

I don't work full-time at this point but I do have an hour commute both ways, and because I'm on a salary, I'm sometimes forced to stay overtime, meaning that my entire day is just sleep-eat-work-eat-sleep in that order, with nothing else that really happens that day.

During non-work days, most of my non-work time is..... art-work time!

And by that I mean that if I'm not washing the dishes, running an errand or spacing out, I'm drawing.

When do I play video-games or watch shows? I don't.

When do I spend time with friends? I don't.

Not unless it's specifically scheduled, such as when someone visits from far away. I have about 1 hour of social stuff set aside each week because I participate in a taiko group in the city I work at.

When I count it up, my art stuff ends up being anywhere between 30 -35 hours each work. My part time job is supposed to be 24 hours (not counting the commute), but often ends up going over. And I usually need another 5 hours each week to take care of the back-end office stuff - scheduling posts, managing Patreon, answering asks and planning future stuff.

I will admit I would not be able to do that if it were not for the kindness of my partner, who takes care of most of the cooking and cleaning, and often ends up cooking me things to eat:

I appreciate him and his commitment to keeping me alive very much

Also, just to be clear: I am not pretending that this is not a good work-life balance.

It it just the balance that works for ME, personally. I think most people would find this...less great.

I do not go out for coffees with pals. I do not watch new series, and I do not partake in social events. This is something I am fine with, but I know many other people would find my life incredibly repetitive and boring.

Actually, looking at this math laid out, I am quite disappointed in not being able to accomplish more with the 30 hours I have per week. But...the reality is that aside from running the comic on my Patreon and doing random personal doodling on my main blog, I'm also often trying to do other projects in the background that I don't feel like sharing until their completion.

The reality is, I enjoy this load, though. I make it work for me, and I'm getting to do stuff I like AND make money for myself and my partner! So I'm fine with it. I'm not actually dying from exhaustion.

It's just hilarious when I sometimes get asks going "Hey, have you played that latest 130-hour-long videogame? :)" followed by a swift "I wish you would post comics daily again :((( I want more arrttttt" like kids, you can't have both, I don't know what to tell you.

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

❝ Take my soul (need control) ❞

slashers dating slasher reader | erratic!slasher!male!reader | fluff, smut | graphic description of violence, brief mention of animal cruelty in Brahms H. section, mentions of nsfw things |

Amanda Young | Brahms Heelshire | Corey Cunningham | OG!Michael Myers | RZ!Michael Myers | poly!Ghostface (Stu Macher, Billy Loomis) | Sinclair brothers

as a preface, (Y/N) is implied to be erratic and unhinged as a slasher. their s/o's are the only ones who can calm them.

Amanda Young (Saw) -

You didn't fit in her future.

At least, that's what Amanda's initials thoughts are when you two stared down each other from across the parking lot, panting as you held your weapons.

She's heard of you through the news. The infamous (slasher name), the monster that lurks in the shadows and savagely crushes anyone who had the misfortune of wounding up as their victim.

Your methods were unlike hers. Not calculated, not planned, not meticulous - completely erratic, like a hurricane.

But she needs the man that one of you has knocked out in your scuffle. While you? You just saw him walking past you while he was making his way to his car and decided he'd die tonight. She stiffens and reaches back for the gun she brings for emergencies as you straighten up but finds herself bewildered as you begin laughing maniacally.

"Have 'im, Ms Piggy" She sees your grip loosen on your weapon and her fingers uncurl from the handle of the gun. "Ya' clearly need 'im more than I do" and just like that, you're gone. The only thing she hears is her own breathing and her racing heartbeat.

Amanda is feverish about finding you. She reads everything she can and scours wannabe psychos and sociopaths' blogs dedicated to your crimes. (slasher name) becomes an obsession.

When you meet again, you find 'Miss Piggy' eyeing the interiors of your home. She's unsure of what she feels as she imagines you moving about the space but she smiles when you begin chuckling like a hyena and reach for the knife you had on you.

"I need your help, (Y/N)"

"Will it be fun?"

Amanda's smiling under her mask. She's seen your research of her work. The newspaper clippings, paint (or blood) of your theories on the wall (among other 'deranged' scribbles) you were familiar with her.

"Wouldn't have asked if it wasn't".

Fun was an understatement. You were a wildcard, someone that could cost her this entire game but the carnage you spread was so beautiful...she wasn't sure if any device or game she sets up could compare.

You two end up working with each other more and more. Your unpredictability makes the FBI tear their hairs out - you were, ironically, the balance she needed in her scales.

When you two confess to each other, you're soaked in someone else's blood. She approaches you from behind, watching your shoulders and chest rise and fall.

You lick the blood from your lips, your smile stretching over your cheeks looking almost uncomfortable.

Her eyes flick to your lips then up to your eyes.

"Come 'ere, Miss Piggy" she leans in and you meet her halfway.

Most would argue that you would be the worst guy to be in a relationship with.

They're wrong.

Amanda knows the ins and outs of your twisted heart because you bare it to her as it beats for her in your palm.

She doesn't take advantage of it. Tests it? Sure, just to feel more secure, but never to the point where you doubt her love for her.

Amanda thinks your ingenuity and creative mind is her favourite part of you (among other things).

You've jokingly told her she could split your skull open to get those ideas fresh - she giggles and you gather her in your arms.

Amanda leaves the window of your bathroom unlocked. Just for you. She knows you need to 'hunt' sometimes and doesn't discourage it (though she makes sure you know her targets so you don't end up killing them). When you crawl back home, you make sure to shower first before you shuffle back into bed.

She tends to your wounds, scolding you only if she knows you could've avoided it in the first place. "More fun that way, 'Manda" she huffs "So you'd leave me forever just for more fun?"

She knows you're pretty screwed up in that brain box of yours, she's not above manipulating you to bend to her whims but she only ever does it out of love, (Y/N)!

She's highly protective of you. She'll ensure your identity is safe if there are any loose ends during your 'hunts'.

She can't lose you. You can't lose her. Both of you are monsters. Both of you belong together - can't live without the other.

If a victim manages to get an upper hand on either of you God help them.

The second one of you is in danger, the other only sees red.

You've literally taken several bullets for Amanda.

She was so gentle with you that night. Her kisses silent apologies. Seeing her cry as she looks down at you makes you move to sit - despite the pain and her protests. Her breath hitched as your tongue slithers in, Amanda's lips warmed by yours.

"You're hurt, (Y/N)" "Don't care, need you"

"You're hurt because of me!" her yell makes you tilt your head "I should've been more careful!" she continues.

"I want you, Amanda" you whine, cupping her weeping face in your hands. "I'll want you even if you hurt me, even if it kills me. Don't say no to me, Piggy?"

The nickname wins her over.

By the way, she calls you Froggy or Kermit (Kermy too!). It's cute.

(She buys green and pink items because they remind her of the two of you and you've gifted her two hearts that you'd cut in half, coloured pink and green and sowed together. She placed the gift on the desk she works on, it's displayed in a dome glass case and she fights back a smile every time she lays eyes on it)

The satisfaction she gets when victims scream as they spot you in the same room as them. Just so fucking proud of her killing machine.

When you go overboard, if the emotions get too overwhelming for you and you only think of how to get rid of the pain - Amanda grips the nape of your neck and pushes you onto your knees.

You bow because it's her. You breathe because it's her.

"(slasher name)" Your eye twitches, gaze still floating around the room but she knows she has your attention.

"You all there, Kermy?"

"I'm right here, Piggy".

Brahms Heelshire (The Boy) -

Initially, you'd taken the babysitting job as a cover to lay low. Things were getting heated in (insert wherever you're from) and this secluded manor was perfect.

The sight of the doll didn't make you falter. Hey, you got a few screws loose yourself so you didn't judge the Heelshires for how they cope.

Brahms was intrigued by you from the second he laid his eyes on you. The way you instantly gathered the doll in your arms without an ounce of judgement makes butterflies flutter.

He is elated to know that there's a chance you won't freak out if you see him.

He quickly finds out you're not exactly the Average Joe.

You brought the rat traps inside, he inches closer to the hole in the wall when you suddenly froze. The rat squeaks furiously and your non-dominant hand idly reaches for the drawers. Brahms did not expect you to pull out a meat tenderizer.

There's a mix of emotions in the boy as he skitters to his room. He laid awake that night, a part of him wondering if you were just like him and the other feeling guilt at the excitement.

His parents tried their best to nurture him into a decent man. Even if it didn't work, their voices still linger in his head but when he sees the tender way you cradle the porcelain extension of himself the next morning? Your voice sickly sweet, lips pressing into the cold temple of the doll?

Brahms craves you.

Malcolm, poor, stupid, Malcolm.

Brahms wasn't the only one that wanted him gone. The only reason you reciprocated his advances was to fulfil a different type of lust.

(Malcolm wasn't your type anyways.)

Brahms's nails nearly break as he digs them in the wood of the walls, breath labouring as anger consumes him. Malcolm was on top of you, unworthy hands gripping at you like you were some common whore.

He's moved from behind the walls to the closet when you're on top of him. The grip of the 'missing' meat tenderizer was so tight his hand was trembling.

Malcolm yells in pain and Brahm pauses as he watches you laugh in pure delight as you dig your thumbs inside Malcolm's eye sockets.

You turn to him, smile still etched on your features and Brahms gulps as you bring your thumb to your mouth to suck the blood and gore clean.

"Cute mask"

The kitchen utensil drops with a comical 'THUD!' while you two stare at each other.

Your relationship falls into a steady, domestic, pace much quicker than both of you anticipated. How could they not? The secluded land was beautiful when the weather wasn't so dreary. Even if it was, the grand fireplaces were extremely nice to cosy up next to. It's hard NOT to fall deeper and deeper into each other when everything was so romantic.

Malcolm's death was covered up thanks to the wild animals on the land. Brahms watches from the window as you whistle, beckoning the scavengers as you spread a few of Malcolm's innards around.

You tell him everything about your kills. Effectively burying his parent's voice in his head as you sink him deeper and deeper into your hell.

"You're beautiful just like this, Brahmsy" he pants from beneath the mask and you place a kiss on those cold lips. "They won't understand like I do, we're meant to be like this so we can find each other" his pupils are so blown out as he stares up at you.

"You're my good boy, Brahms, forever and always. Okay?"

"Okay, (Y/N)". Your smile was sculpted by the king of hell himself and Brahm's eyes roll back as you move your hips.

Brahms feels vindicated and free. For once, guilt doesn't whisper accusingly in his shadow. Instead, there's you.

Your routines overlap his. Your hands pull him from the darkness. Your voice haunts him every second of every day.

The bodies pile up in the woods. The rats are scarce with the sudden spike of scavengers drawn to the Heelshire manor.

You love spoiling him with victims, love watching him release his creativity and curiosity. He's so good with his hands and all that raw strength? It's not an odd sight for you to make love in the showers after 'play time' was done.

He loves helping you freak the shit out of your victims, pretending to be the ghost in the walls and making them so paranoid they think they've gone crazy.

When they're dealt with, Brahms often makes snacks for the both of you.

Oh! He makes a mask for you. To show his love and for you to wear when you need it.

He doesn't like that you leave the manor. It causes BIG arguments. Vintage vases flying to the wall kind of arguments. But you were a bloodthirsty hound, you needed to stretch your legs.

He'll be sullen but he gets over it. This routine annoys the shit out of both of you though but over time, he learns you need it just as much as he needs his quiet times.

He welcomes you when you get home, lifting his mask to kiss you and you giggle as your hands slide up his wifebeater.

"Miss me, big boy?"

"Always" he pouts.

Corey Cunningham (Halloween Ends) -

Corey knew before you did.

You were just like him. The darkness spills from your eyes as you tell him how the front of your car got wrecked.

"A deer scared you?" he wipes his hands on the front of his uniform, turning to you as you nod and stroke the large dents and scratches on your hood. "Swerved into the woods, didn't hit a tree head-on - Thank God, right?" Corey nods.

He pretends not to see the splatter of blood and hoses down the hair and chunks of flesh from your tires.

Guessed you missed a spot, hm?

He's good at being undetected. People...people avoid him nowadays.

You don't have to ask around much to learn about the cute, outcasted, mechanic's past. You find it all a bit pathetic. These people were really that terrified of him over what sounded like an honest mistake?

Corey wonders why you've gone to Allen's family's abandoned house during his nightly routine of stalking you.

He watches you from the windows, knife in hand though with no real intent of using it...on you anyways. Blood had already stained the blade.

You pause at the sight of dried blood and gaze up the spiralling staircase. Much to his chagrin, you lay down and place your head right on the bloodstain.

Your laughter makes blood pool under the skin of his cheeks. Your hands splay out to your side and you're laughing so hard your sides hurt, Corey finds himself pressing a hand to the window and wishes he was right beside you.

The next day, Corey's parked right out of the supermarket just as you come out. He grins boyishly and you ask if he needs anything. He holds himself back from saying "you" and instead asks if you're free tonight.

You don't expect him to be so forward but you're intrigued. So you ask if he'll be the one to pick you up (considering your car is still in his garage) and Corey pretends to be interested as you write down your address as he imprints the sight of your semi-focused expression. He already knows where you live but you don't have to worry about that, (Y/N).

The night was perfect from the get-go. Your warmth pressed against his back as he drove the two of you to a bar that was further away than usual but was the only one he could go to without people whispering — you don't mind.

Then drinks got involved and suddenly you're dancing with him, some shitty pop song playing over shitty speakers but neither of you cared.

Then reality came crashing in. Someone had loudly — drunkenly — mentioned Corey's past. Everyone gives him looks and although he could care less he pretends to by pulling you out of the bar.

"Corey, wait" he's too drunk to drive and his hands are itching to feel blood so he pauses as you chuckle the command out. "Stay here, baby" The nickname makes his heart flutter and he nods as he leans against his bike. When you disappear back into the bar — probably left something, he thought — he curses and tries his hardest not to storm in and strangle the life out of that asshole who ruined his date and the closest bar he could go to without reproachful glares.

He contemplates the thought of moving away from Haddonfield with you when his phone rings. It's you. For a second, he thinks you're in trouble but when he answers you're breathless pants of glee tells him otherwise.

"Come to the back, Corey".

The sight that greets him is the asshole with a bleeding mouth and a broken nose. The burst veins in his eyes and the wooden plank that you held loosely in your arm paint a clear picture.

"Night's still young, baby" you muse as you make a faux swing that makes the man whimper from where he was sprawled on the ground. "I know you wanna" Your purr makes Corey shudder.

The Cheshire grin on your face is absolutely maniacal as Corey sheds his jacket and pulls out the pocket knife he kept in his back pocket.

The same one you'd felt against your thighs when you were riding his bike.

Haddonfield was lucky the two of you decided to spread your chaos elsewhere because the two of you were insatiable.

The fact that neither of you stayed in one city for too long also didn't help. You were basically doing an American-wide murder spree.

And Corey would not have it any other way.

You were just like him — wilder, sure, but you understood him in ways no one else had ever done.

"Fuck, baby" Corey has you on the bed of some engineer whose blood was currently being used as lube. The man's body was somewhere in the room but Corey barely gave a shit when you're looking down at him with that toothy grin that makes your eyes twinkle with bloodlust. "Mm, you feel so fuckin' good, Corey".

Somehow you two decide to settle down in a quiet town. Corey going under a different name as he works at a garage. Everybody around you thinks you guys are the sweetest couple — cooing at how young you are and sighing about young love.

They don't know that your weekend trips are spent with blood, guts, and sex. Two maniacs completely enamoured with one another.

"Baby, look" Corey eyes the silver band on your finger. Then the other one is on your palm as you extend it to him. You drop the chopped-off hand of the man the both of you had just killed and inched closer and closer.

"Pretty, hm?" he nods "Till death do us part" At that, he scoffs and pulls you in closer.

"Not even Death can keep us apart, (Y/N) (L/N)" he brushes the tip of your noses together and plants a bloody kiss but your giggle cuts it short.

"Don't you mean, (Y/N) Cunningham-(L/N)?" Corey's grin is nothing short of loving and he claims your lips again.

OG!Michael Myers (Halloween (1978 - 1982)) -

To be completely honest, the way you two met was a blur. Before you met Michael Myers your life had little to no meaning.

When he decided to break into your family home one night, he jump-starts everything. He had you pinned on the dining table, his mask already coated with the blood of your kin. Your feeble attempts at escaping his inhumanely strong grip leave you gasping for breath and you're sure that the building pressure in your head isn't a good sign.

But when you stare into Michael's eyes a sudden force tugs your lips apart into a bloody smile. Your laughter is nothing but strained gasps and squeaks and it makes Michael's grip falter enough for you to finally grasp the make-shift stake beside you (from the chair he'd thrown your way) and drive it into his shoulder.

Michael staggers and without missing a beat, you're lunging at him again. No fear, no hesitation, and frankly, no thoughts behind such a brash action.

The force of your body slamming into him throws his momentum off but he feels something in his chest suddenly beat as your shrill laughter fills his ears.

You, with your wild hair and wilder eyes...

Michael craved you.

He knocks you out.

Then, he watches you. From your recovery in the hospital to the 'safehouse' you were placed in. The detectives thought this could be their chance — to finally catch Michael Myers as he 'finishes you off'.

Michael knows you're done with your kill just from the shift in the air. He enters the safehouse and stares at the splatters of blood and bullet holes in the drywall. He follows the sounds of your laughter and finds you in the dining room in a familiar pose.

You have the detective pinned under you, fingers crushing his larynx as he weakly fights back against you. Michael waits politely, when you're done he moves to the back door and you wordlessly follow.

Eating rats was new but strangely enough the act of catching them was a great bonding activity. Your jokes about meeting the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles — and eating them — fly over Michael's head but his amused silence tells you he doesn't mind your babbles.

He learns fairly quickly that, unlike his silent, effortlessly, intimidating self, you're erratic, loud and pumped with energy when you're hunting.

He doesn't dislike it but it takes some getting used to.

You don't always go on hunts together but when you do he appreciates your gore-y creativity.

The Shape of Haddonfield now has Hellhound by his side — isn't that a cute nickname for yourself, (Y/N)?

While victims shit themselves at the sight of Michael, his stony demeanour is what makes him all the more Boogeyman-worthy. He feels inhuman. That both terrifies and comforts some — but you?

You're entirely too human. Your glee, your rambles as you stab your victims, you're laughter full of excitement.

"Mikey" he glances your way as your fingers stroke up the neck of his mask. Here you were, sprawled all over Michael Myer's lap like a goddamn kitten. You lean up and kiss his rubbery lips, he hums as your tongue licks his mask and pushes you back just enough to lift his mask above his nose.

"Thank you, Mikey" you chuckle, letting him taste the romantic spaghetti dinner you two had helped yourselves to after murdering the old couple.

Their home was isolated enough, that both of you could enjoy living above ground for a few days.

"You taste so good, Mikey" The grip on your waist makes that addictively sweet laughter bubble in your throat.

RZ!Michael Myers (Halloween (2007 - 2009))-

You were the only good thing in his god-forsaken life.

The mental institution had made a big mistake in housing two monsters — especially when those monsters were always so drawn towards each other.

No matter what punishments they inflicted on either of you for sharing glances. It did little to stop this undeniable, instinctual, need to be close to one another.

Initially, the doctors had thought Michael's curiosity was a good sign. A sign that he was showing interest in making friends. Even if you were less than ideal in terms of 'fixing' him considering your own streak of homicide (that landed you in this shithole in the first place) but they were desperate.

So, they allowed controlled meetings. Michael's stare terrified others but you seemed to thrive under his attention.

Guards had reached out to pull you back as you climbed the table and got right up in Michael's face but he is as still as a statue as you carefully brush his long locks of blonde hair back.

"There you are, pretty boy" and with those words and your eyes that reflect back his darkened soul right back at him — Michael is smitten.

When he escapes, he finds you.

When he enacts his revenge, you're the shadow that devours any sacrificial lambs that managed to stray from his grasp.

Oh, he's all yours.

Michael swears that if you're not near him the air feels thinner.

He relishes in the way you mercilessly slaughter anyone in your way — he doesn't ask why you kill but knows that whatever the answer he'll support his batshit insane boyfriend.

"Is this for me?" he nods, showing you the new mask he'd created. You smile warmly, sitting across from him as you carefully place the mask on your face.

"How do I look, pretty boy?"

He places his large hand on your thighs and begins tapping. You encourage him with careful strokes to his bicep.

.--. .-. . - - -.--

Your grin makes his heart flutter. "Thank you, baby" and you reward your darling lover with a kiss which makes him grunt at the mask that blocks him from properly kissing you.

Billy Loomis & Stu Macher (Scream (1996)) -

They had an inkling you were just like them.

Billy says it's the way your eyes become devoid of any light when you're angry. While Stu tells you it's the way you lick the blood from your split lip and smile as you lunge at the opposing team's captain.

(Y/N) (L/N), an athlete of their school.

Meanwhile, to his boyfriends, he's an absolutely merciless murderer.

Everyone sort of avoids you. Even your coach rarely gets in your face to yell at you the way he does at everyone else. It baffles people that Billy and Stu are your lovers.

For them though? It's the perfect match.

You're not Ghostface, however, (slasher name) is always spotted with Ghostface.

A maniac with brute strength that takes hits and stabs and even bullets without going down.

Those who did live to tell the tale of an encounter with (slasher name) and Ghostface mutter that hurting Ghostface? Was a big fucking mistake if (slasher name) is there to witness it.

You're the kind of guy to body slam someone out a second-storey window and just walk it off while the victim who cushioned your fall is wheezing their last breath.

Billy reprimands your unnecessary displays of brutality while Stu simply gushes about how cool it was. They both tend to your wounds, kissing and massaging anything that hurts.

Ghostface is equally as protective of you, make no mistake, even if they're not throwing a chair at a victim they will ensure you don't actually get yourself killed in your bloodlust.

Stu has pulled a gun and shot someone in the face when they threatened to do the same to you.

Billy rushes to the two of you upon hearing gunshots but groans in relief as he sees you making out with Stu mere inches away from the body.

"Hey! Earth to perverts! Time to scram!" Billy is pulled into the make-out session by you and he all but melts under your hold.

"Want you. Now" Stu laughs at your huffy tone but eagerly circles his hands around your waist while you pull Billy closer to your front.

Beauregard 'Bo' Sinclair (House of Wax) -

A new victim of Ambrose? That's what you are, right?

Wrong.

You'd been a solo traveller that coincidentally got grouped up with another group of travellers. You seemed normal enough, Bo thinks as he spots you making your way to his garage.

Cute and handsome, a darn shame you'd have to die but at least Vincent will immortalize your beauty.

He notices that you're not close with the others. When he asks, you explain your vehicles had broken down near each other so Lester rounded up all of you together.

You lean on the hood of the car he was clearly working on, jutting your hips and looking impressed. He shamelessly takes in the curve of your butt before putting on a charming Southern smile when you glance back at him.

"Good with your hands, hm?" Bo feels blood travel south but he just chuckles. The conversation is cut short by the others clearing their throats.

When he kills the group one by one, he immediately notices that you seem excited at the violence he spreads. You don't scream or yelp but you're helping him.

At first, he thinks you're just saving your ass from getting sliced down when you push someone in front of you. But while the others run, you're moaning as he's thrusting the blade repeatedly into the man's body.

He pants as you two make eye contact, gulping he pulls the blade out and offers it to you.

"Fuckin' finally" you coo, pressing a bloody kiss on his cheek before you slip to hunt the others down.

His brothers are definitely confused by his decision to let you stay as a real residence of Ambrose but after another group rolls in you prove your worth to them.

Between heated moments under the sheets and lip-locking with Bo, you confess that the reason you ended up at Ambrose was that the police were hot on your tail.

"It's fate," you say as you trace circles on his chest. "We were meant to meet, to be family" he would usually scoff at such a notion but the way you fit into his deranged life so easily...

"It's something", he gruffs out, watching as you take the lighter from his hand to light the cigarette between his lips. "Whatever it is, it brought you to me so"

"Aww, Bo, you gettin' sappy on me?" your teasing makes him threaten to shove the cigarette in your mouth but you just laugh it off.

"Love ya', Bo" he averts his eyes but mumbles.

"Love you too..."

Vincent Sinclair (House of Wax) -

Instead of catching Bo's eyes, it's Vincent's heart that you grasp.

A solo traveller that somehow got roped in with another group, a victim of circumstance is what Vincent would have called you.

But instead, you've ruthlessly wormed your way inside his heart.

While the others ran like headless chickens when Bo started killing, you were dragged by another girl to hide in the Sinclairs' house. Stupid move on her end really, but you were curious about their headquarters of sorts. So you follow, breathing raggedly to sell this whole 'helpless victim' façade.

You find the basement. Despite the chills that run down your spine from the scent of death (and wax) you convince her it'd be a good place to hide.

Vincent hears her as she shakily steps into his lair. He thinks she's the only one but finds it odd that she looks desperately over his shoulder as he slices her head off with a pair of garden shears.

Until he feels a blade pressed right at the base of his spine.

"You're pretty strong" Your eyes twinkle from the corner of his and he goes rigid as you dig the tip of the blade deeper. You reach to brush locks of his hair behind his ear, a growl raises from his throat but you shush him.

Your lips brush on the shell of his ear.

"I'll bring more of them here, I want to watch while you turn them into pieces of art".

Bo is feeling an inkling of worry at the sudden lack of victims. He rushes to see if they've decided to overwhelm Vincent and finds you swinging your feet while Vincent is organizing the bodies of the group.

Bo is distrustful. He thinks you've seduced his twin and while that is true, you've no bad intentions like he thinks you do.

Vincent is painfully awkward compared to your nonchalant energy. But it works, the two of you just work.

He scolds you when you get new wounds from the victims fighting back but it's a bit hypocritical when he does the same.

Though he prefers wax figures, he did dabble in oil paints again as he attempts to recreate the scene he sees of you demolishing victims.

A watcher, a stalker; an artist.

Vincent usually stays in the basement but ever since you came? When the hunt is on, he's watching you. Imprinting the image of your body shaking with muffled laughter as you pull your jaws away from the bleeding neck of a victim, spitting out their vocal cords with a satisfied hum.

"Vinnie" your coo makes him flinch but he walks out from the shadows as you beckon him with your hand. Your boyfriend stands in front of you, reaching to wipe some blood away from your cheek but really the only thing he does is move it around.

"Was that pretty, Vinnie?" he huffs through his nose and lifts your chin up so you stain his waxy lips with warm blood.

He pulls away to sign, 'Always beautifull'.

Lester Sinclair (House of Wax) -

You rode with him on the way to Ambrose.

He's taken by your looks and feels a sense of pity and regrets that you'd be dead soon. Especially since you were the only one among the others that weren't a complete asshole to him.

"Ambrose, huh" he nods, tapping his steering wheel as his eyes flit between the road and you. "Must be pretty secluded, haven't even heard of it", he laughs and tells you it's because you aren't from around here.

"See ya'" he waves at you but you scan him from head to toe in a way that's not scrutinizing but lustful. He feels his cheeks warm, you nod to him as a goodbye before you turn to walk into the death trap that is Ambrose.

He's surprised to find you covered in blood and right outside his shack later that night. Jonesy growls near his heel but you were just sitting there on his porch, casually testing the weight of the hilt of a hatchet in your hands.

"Your brothers should use you more than a glorified Ferryman" he is confused but tense. His muscles are rigid like a snake coiling to bite.

Blood drips from the ends of your hair and nose, you place the hatchet down and crouch, beckoning Jonesy' with a sweet baby voice that has the poor pup confused between staying by Lester's side or sniffing you.

"I like Ambrose," you tell him, your eyes squished into an adorable crescent shape.

"Can I stay, Lester?"

His brothers aren't aware of you until at least a week. They were extremely distrustful of you, their baby brother was someone that they did not want to be harmed. Hence why he stays out of the nitty-gritty of it all.

When you show that you're just as protective of Lester, they approve of your relationship. Not that you would let their approval get in the way of your love for him anyways.

Your boyfriend has to get used to your sudden disappearances and reappearances.

And he has to learn how to stitch you up as well. He doesn't scold you though reminds you to be more careful but drinks up your stories of the victims being crushed under your foot.

Whoever manages to stray far enough from Ambrose to find Lester's shack will find themselves in an entirely different but just as torturous hell.

Jonesy enjoys the raw feed though.

"I gotta go" Lester laughs as you whine and drag him back to your side. "I gotta check if anyone's 'lost'" he reminds but you stubbornly shake your head.

"Can't leave me, I'm hurt and defenceless"

Yeah, Lester's seen you shove the end of a rake down someone's throat with a broken arm and a concussion all while laughing. You could protect yourself with the scrapes and boo-boos from the night before just fine.

Feeling yourself lose this battle, you press a kiss to the nape of his neck as he sits and it makes his breath hitch.

Your hands circle his waist and his head hangs low as you slip your fingers down the band of his underwear.

"Stay" you plead.

"Jesus H. Christ" he turns and you grin triumphantly as he kisses you.

[forgeofthenine]

Is it the holiday season, or are you just a genius cause my yearning heart is being well fed by your tiefling headcanons. I hope this ask inspires :)

I’d go feral for some good pining headcanons; what are they like in the gray space between flirting and relationship? Especially if there’s mutual understanding that this might not be the best time (i.e. there may or may not be a mindflayer invasion in progress) and so they hold off on initiating anything, but have to watch as their crush dives headlong into danger? I love imagining ill-timed interruptions punctuated by longing looks.

Alternatively, how good are our darling tiefling bachelors at dancing? Would they learn a jig or two if their SO loved dancing?

Here's a lil' something something for you about pining, Anon. I didn't decide to write a full set of dance headcanons (despite it being on my to do list right from when I started the blog) but I am going to post something similar 👀

What the bachelors are like while pining for you

Dammon

This man pines so hard

He's touch starved to hell, quite literally, but has no clue about it

Dammon was sure he was fine right up until he met you and was hit with the realisation that he wanted more

The way he shows his affection is also anything but subtle, expect to know right away

It's never the type of affection that makes you feel guilty if you don't return it or makes you feel like you feel pressured

He's very easy going and good at reading people, he slowly increases how much affection he gives you until you both find a comfortable balance

Soon you'll find all your weapons and armour is repaired or replaced to the highest quality

Dammon is overjoyed if you return the same affection, even if you both know dating is off the cards for now

Bring this man some home cooking and he'll want to marry you right then and there

It's a grey area you both find yourself in for quite some time, to the point you both often get asked if you're together

The way he blushes when people ask is absolutely adorable, even more so when he hesitates to correct them

Towards the end you both basically already live together, both slowly easing into a romantic relationship without realising it

Dammon is more than happy once the ilithids are dealt with to make things official, finally not needing to correct people anymore

Zevlor

This man is the king of pining, absolute reigning champion

He knew he was in deep right from the moment he first saw you

It's something he keeps under wraps very well, to the point that you probably won't realise for a while

He tends to sneak peaks at you when you aren't looking, or he comes up with mostly reasonable excuses to come and speak with you

If you call him out on either thing then he'll heavily deny doing any of it, despite the blush on his face giving him away

Even if there wasn't an ilithid invasion happening Zevlor would still be cautiously optimistic about ever having a relationship with you

He's wary of a potential age gap or coming across too strong and scaring you away

A part of him also reminds him that you'd likely want a suitor your own age

The best way to quell those worries is to simply return his advances with some of your own

It could be anything, so long as he thinks you're interested he'll keep up his very subtle flirting

Soon, the two of you are already regularly having meals with each other and finding ways to spend hours together

Zevlor is absolutely already thinking of the life he'll have with you after this

Rolan

Rolan is a dick at first, he honestly is so out of touch with his own feelings that he doesn't realise he's into you

He's completely oblivious to anything that isn't directly spelled out for him, including how much he actually enjoys your company

It takes Cal and Lia teasing him relentlessly before he finally comes to terms with it

Once he does it hits him like a brick to the face

And after that, it's like a switch flips

He can barely speak to you now without second-guessing himself or tripping over words

It's enough to make you wonder what's going on until the siblings start teasing you both, much to Rolans embarrassment

He's always quick to shoo them away and apologise but his feelings are already clear

You're both smart people, it's easy to know now isn't the time to start a romantic relationship, but it's harder to listen to reason when your feelings get involved

After weeks of you both tiptoeing around each other, feelings clearly returned, he finally has enough

Rolans the fastest to take action on his pining, impatient and hating the uncertainty

You'll find yourself in Ramaziths Tower and kissing the tiefling that runs it in no time

Rolan is quick to pull you into him, kissing you passionately before making you promise you'll stay safe

[greenesmyfavcolor]

Just popping in to say that I love your blog so much and that I always find myself scrolling through it when I catch a bad case of Little Shop brainworms <33 thank you for truly being the backbone of this Tumblr community ^^ Also!! Do you have any aspect of LSOH (either film or stage show :)) you LOVE a ton but don't see enough people talk about or praise?? Or just an underrated aspect of it in general?? Hope that question makes sense lol and I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day/night :D

Aw thank you so much! Means a lot to know that I'm contributing something worthwhile to this small but passionate fandom on here!

Anyhoo, that’s a good question. Just about everyone I've seen has covered everything about Little Shop down to the nitty gritty details and I absolutely love that. However, if there’s one thing I think deserves more love and tends to get overlooked, it's Lee Wilkof, who originated the role of Seymour on stage.

He tends to get thrown under the bus a lot by some people and I have absolutely no idea why. I've heard people criticizing him saying that he was too old for the role at the time, but he was only 31 when the show first opened and is actually slightly younger than Ellen Greene but no one seems to be saying that she was too old for her role. That, or either he doesn’t look the part, which I don’t understand how he couldn’t look like Seymour when he was the first guy to play Seymour on stage. If it's about him balding prematurely at the time, who cares? Seymour's not supposed to be this conventionally attractive guy anyway so why should there be a set standard for how he should look? Those complaints are just a bit silly to me.

Besides that, he also gets completely upstaged by Ellen (which is understandable 😂) so most people tend to remember her more when it comes to the original off-Broadway production. I mean, she even got top billing over Lee who was the lead which is kind of insane when you think about it (but again, iconic for her).

And then later, he got even more overshadowed by Rick Moranis, which I also get. He played Seymour in the movie which was most people's first introduction to the character so I understand that there's going to be some sort of bias present.

Basically, everything was not in his favor which sucks cause I really love him as Seymour. He added a lot of grit to the role, which I typically don’t see a lot of Seymours doing. Most people play him very passive or overly timid, which is fine, but Seymour's a very morally grey character that isn't all good or all bad. He's cute and insecure, yes, but he also indirectly murders people and feeds them to a plant lol. There's gotta be a balance and Lee gets that. He really nails all the anger, guilt, distress, etc. that Seymour goes through throughout the show. The Meek Shall Inherit and Death of Seymour in particular are when he really gets a chance to pop off. And he's of course able to be sweet and sincere when needed such as during Suddenly Seymour or basically anytime he interacts with Audrey. His singing is also amazing! I primarily listen to 1982 cast album just for him (and Ellen I won't lie haha). I especially love his vibrato and how hard he goes in some of the songs like Feed Me and Now It's Just The Gas. And he has great chemistry with Ellen! What's not to love?

I also appreciate how he’s still very much involved in Little Shop whether it’s doing an interview, like recently with Little Shop of Audrey, or showing up for Little Shop related events, like the 2015 Encores opening night afterparty. Not a lot of actors do that especially so long after their show has ended so I can tell the role and Little Shop as a whole has meant a lot to him. I mean, he met his future wife while working on the show so you can’t say it doesn’t mean something to him lol.

While I have said in the past that Rick is my favorite Seymour, Lee is for sure a close second. He played an essential part in making Little Shop what it is today by laying out the foundation for Seymour which is very respectable.

So yeah, give him some more love! He's great!

And thanks for the ask! Have a wonderful rest of your day/night too <3

[nouearth]

happy one year to nouearth!

okay, to be frank, the one year anniversary passed on the 15th, HAHA. but it's better late than never, right? i got so busy that i forgot to make a post celebrating this mini accomplishment!

it's craaaazy how fast time flew by. i actually never thought i'd be doing this little hobby for so long? i tend to have a habit of abandoning stuff i create online, but i'm glad i decided to stick around for longer because i've met so many amazing people (even though 99% of them are anons) from writing.

for a quick story time, i started this blog because i was reading a ton of miguel o'hara x male reader stories right after seeing across the spider-verse! i couldn't get enough of him, as you can see... it all led me to creating this blog.

one of the main reasons why i did was that i just wasn't really satisfied with the content? majorities of the stories were involving top!reader, and i think we need a healthy balance of both! two weeks later since that movie dropped, viola! i'm here, and my first fic ended up being 'joy-cons' with barry allen, HAHA. but i think my blog received a lot of attention with 'servicing justice' because i remember waking up to 100+ notes overnight, which was crazy to me! and then my fic got flagged and that drastically increased, but we won't dwell on that too much.

now, a year later, and i'm at 3.5k followers! numbers don't really mean much to me, since i'm sure only a handful actually interact and most are abandoned accounts, but i'm appreciative of all the likes, reblogs, comments, asks, and most importantly, patience! i've never felt so much love for my works before (and frankly, i don't think i deserve them, HAHA) but i'm glad a few of my fics can make an impact on someone's life, even if it's just for a few minutes of happiness.

i'll cut it short now, so thank you all so much for one year of making me feel less alone in my little life! i feel like i should do a q&a because that seems fun, but LOL I DON'T THINK PEOPLE WOULD CARE.

now, onto the next year?

[papaya-047]

Hi!!

This is my first time asking something but could you do a Ron weasley x reader where they both are Quidditch players maybe different houses even!!

and they have fun in the quidditch closet! (fluff or smut whatever you want!!)

The most smut i will do is PG-13 lmao, we are a family friendly blog over here. Am I good at writing anything remotely smutty? No. so this what you get. 

This was going to be the worst practice ever, you've been begging for friendly matches to stop since you got on the team but they never were quite friendly. The last friendly game was against Slytherin and they did not hold back. You walked out of that practice with a black eye and a sprained wrist. At least this was just for fun, and since having fun was one of two reasons you wanted to do quidditch in the first place you try to make the best of it. Especially since the other reason is on the team you're playing against. 

Hurrying out of your dorm you stumble your way to the quidditch field, struggling to lug your equipment around the campus. “Need a hand?” A deep voice spoke over your head. Ron.

“I’m fine.” you said, your broom in one hand and an overstuffed duffle in the other, all dragging behind you. 

“Clearly,” the sarcasm in his voice was obvious. Without warning the bag was lifted out of your hand and you were free to hold your broom without it touching the floor. 

“You know if you keep dragging it like that you're doing to damage the bristles on the broom.” 

You laugh, “what's that gonna do? Make it less aerodynamic?” you ask sarcastically.

“Yes,” he said shortly. “Or you know what you should probably keep dragging it, it'll make it easier to beat you.”

“Please you don't need the help, I don’t try at these things.” Trying to keep up with Rons strides proved to be a bit of a challenge. He was walking at a lethargic speed but the length of his steps were worth 3 of yours. 

“That's too bad I was looking forward to playing you,” he said through a smile. You felt your face grow hot. “And a friendly game means you won’t kick my ass.”

You laughed, “what makes you think I would kick your ass at all?” 

“Your track record,” you looked at him confused. “Do you really not remember? First year? And Second, third and fourth?” You shook your head. “Well I guess the trauma seared it into my memory,” he chuckled.

You rolled your eyes, “oh don't be dramatic. I never did anything that bad.” 

Still smiling, Ron looked down at you for the first time since you started walking, “No, just tackled me a lot.” 

“In first year? When I was learning how to fly? You still remember that?” you shouted mortified as the flood of embarrassment came rushing back. 

“When your crush lands on top of you, your 11 year old boy brain tends to think about it a lot.” he laughed.

“You had a crush on me?” 

“Wasn't it obvious? I nearly failed every class we had together because I was so busy staring at you.”

You tried your best to remember your first year classes, but any of Rons “obvious” behavior was not something your first year self ever picked up on, “I can safely say I didn't notice.”

“Why did you think I needed so much help in every subject?” 

“You're an idiot?” you asked through a muted laugh.

“No, I just spent every class paying attention to you instead of the material. So when you practically obsess over someone and they continuously struggle to balance on a broom, you hope to be put in a position that you might end up with said person on top of…” his voice tapered off. Cheeks red, refusing to make eye contact. He clearly didn't mean for that word vomit to come out, but up until he stopped talking you assumed those feelings had stopped after the first year, but now you're not so sure. 

“So what about second, third and fourth year?” you tried to move the conversation along wanting to casually move past what Ron just said, he was clearly embarrassed and you didn't want to make things worse. 

The two of you reached the quidditch field, the sight of fluttering robes and the distant echoes of laughter filling the air. Ron scratched his head, and avoided your gaze.  "Well, second year was all about the dueling club," he began, trying to regain composure. "Remember when I was petrified? You visited me in the hospital wing. I was so out of it and used to being tackled that I thought you were going to hex me." 

You chuckled at the memory. "As if I would hex you. Besides, I couldn't resist visiting the famous Ron Weasley,” you put on a mocking tone, “you were always up to something.”

“I still am.” he mumbled under his breath. Clearing his throat “in third year I convinced myself you hated me and fourth year, well I spilt my drink on you at the yule ball so I was certain you hated me.” 

You couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. "Oh my god,. How could I forget?” the Yule ball was a bottle of embarrassment you did not want to revisit. No one asked to go with you and the moment you thought a certain ginger was going to ask you to dance he spilled his drink all over you, “You know I stole that robe from professor sprout?”

Ron stopped in his place, “That was Sprout’s?” he raised his voice in shock.

“Yep,” you chuckled, “Do you even remember what it looks like?” 

“Of course I do!” he exclaimed, before calming himself down, “Although in my memory it’s covered in fruit punch.” Ron continued walking to bring your stuff over to where your team was setting up. You noticed how much slower he’d gotten, it was much easier to keep up. 

“I technically didn't steal it, I just borrowed it and had my dormmate alter it a bit.”

“Well they did a bloody good job, you looked hot.” Ron said before he could stop himself, “I-I mean,” he stuttered, “you looked good.” changing his tone.

You smirked at Ron stopping in the middle of the field. "Hot, huh?" you teased, enjoying the rosy tint that crept across Ron's cheeks.

Ron stumbled over his words, "No, not hot. Definitely not hot." trying to backtrack. Your face fell slightly, making him panic even more. “Not that you're not hot! You’re so hot it's crazy!”

Suddenly, in the midst of their walk, Ron tripped over a loose cobblestone and by instinct grabbed you for balance. But instead of regaining his footing, the unexpected momentum sent both of you tumbling forward.

As you crashed to the ground, and somehow you found yourself sprawled on top of Ron, his laughter echoing yours in the crisp air. "You definitely need balance training,” you quipped through laughter, but he wasn't laughing. Your duffle had been flung above his head, and his hands had instinctively grasped for you, firmly planted around your waist, and for a moment, you both lay there, catching your breath and sharing a moment of sheer hilarity.

Your laughter subsided, replaced by silence as you gazed into each other's eyes. “Just like old times, eh?” You tried to lighten the tension. He didn't reply, lost in your eyes seemingly unable to speak. “Ron? Are you oka-”

“Can I kiss you?” he interrupted. Rushing the words as if he had been building up the courage to speak. 

“On the field?” Ron shot up, nearly shoving you off of him. He quickly picked up your things and tried to avoid eye contact. This time he picked up your broom as well and we was off to your team's changing rooms to drop your things off. This time his pace was far from lethargic, he may as well have been running, that would be the only way you could ever keep up with him. “Ron?” you shouted as you jogged after him trying to catch up.  

Once you got to the changing rooms your team whispered at the sight of gryffindors keeper in their rooms. “Here you go,” dropping your things on the side and rushing out. You grabbed his arm. He was red and looking anywhere but your eyes. Your team began filling out the room to begin warming up as they called you to hurry and get dressed. 

You dragged Ron further into the room, “Listen Ron-”

“You don't need to say it, I'm sorry. It was an accident and it'll never happen again. The last thing I ever want to do is make you uncomfortable.” he was rambling, “and you can ignore what i said, i saw a pretty girl on top of me and i wasn't thinking. Not that I think you're pretty! Not that you're not pretty! Oh god-” you crashed your lips into his, an effective way to shut him up. He was tense with surprise before melting into the kiss as you pulled him closer by his shirt, his hand cupped your face, his arm wrapped around your waist drawing you in. He turned you, pinning you against the wall as his kiss deepened. His knee rose up to rest between your legs as you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

The whistle blew outside, pulling you away from the kiss as you hear your captain shouting your name. You sigh disappointedly. You turn back to Ron, who was staring at you, you giggled nervously, “what?”

“I take it back, I think you're very pretty.” You smiled and pulled him in for another kiss. 

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Hello! I’ve been back and forth on writing you this bc I’m nervous but eh fuck it, I have no shame. So first off, I just want to say that you, Salome, are an absolutely stunning and brilliant writer. As someone who majored in classical studies in college, I was completely blown away by Fatum Nos Iungebit. The world you built was so deeply immersive and characterization of König, in that story as well as your other headcanons, is perfect. For the past week or so, I’m going to be honest, I’ve been going through your blog because I’ve been so hungry for more and the only reason I haven’t interacted more is that 1. I don’t wanna feel like a creep and 2. I was so scared of you blocking me for ‘’spam-liking” or whatever. I can assure you that I am a real person and I’ve been enjoying everything I’ve seen. I came across one concept however, that definitely got my neurons firing and that’s the idea of belly dancer reader x könig and I have some thoughts I wanted to share with you if that’s okay. :)

So I’ve been a belly dancer for almost a decade (I actually celebrate my ten year anniversary next year!). I was part of a belly dance performance troupe at my old university and I currently dance with a studio in my new city. It’s genuinely one of the great passions of my life. I’ve performed at all kinds of venues and for all different occasions from festivals to galas to charity events to hookah bars, so I definitely have some performing experience under my belt, well as what audiences are like. So when I saw the idea of König being mesmerized by a dancer at a wedding, I went !!!

I want to add the caveat that this is based on my experience as a dancer living in the US, and while I’ve performed for SWANA audiences (which is always an amazing experience 🥰) and non-SWANA audiences, I can’t speak for what it’s like in other countries. So, in my ✨personal✨ experience as a belly dancer going on a decade, it’s pretty rare that men will approach dancers during or after a performance—especially to actively hit on her. And believe it or not, it’s because many of them are actually intimidated! I have seen the most seemingly cockiest, proudest men just stare blankly and stand back while we do our thing. If anything, it’s usually women who approach us, gushing about our performances or asking where they can take classes and stuff. Women tend to be the first ones to get up and dance with us, shower us with tips, etc. (again, very much my personal experience as someone living in the US). When it comes to more family-friendly events like weddings and stuff, we also get a lot of kids approaching and that’s always so adorable and sweet—especially when the little babies think we’re princesses. 😭

So back to König, especially Y!König. 😈 he’s at the wedding. He’s mopey. He’s picking at his plate of chicken and rice. He’s happy for his friend and his bride, but a little bitter and jealous that he’ll never get to be that happy. Then, a mejance (essentially an entrance/overture piece of music) swells over the speakers and out comes the dancer, adorned in an Irina Sheyner number (she’s an absolutely STUNNING costume designer, plsplsplsPLS look her up 😭), veil flying behind her. She does her mejance, a drum solo, and at some point…she does a sword number. The level of control she has to be able to balance the sword on her head in impressive, but König can’t help but imagine what it would be like for to dance wielding his knives in hand. Finally, dancer opens up the floor and in typical faction brings out the bride and groom to dance with her, and then most of the other guests follow. Not König though. He hangs back and watches as this beautiful dancer holds the guests in the palm of her hand. Gone is the cocky, brutal soldier, and only the shy, anxious boy remains, the one who would always be left out of games at recess and who wasn’t invited to birthday parties. König has never been the dancing type, but he can’t even bring himself to offer her a few of the banknotes or dollars or whatever currency he’s using. He just stares, and she’s completely oblivious.

A while later, he’s getting ready to leave, when he spots Dancer. Her makeup and hair still done up, but she’s now fully cloaked and awkwardly lugging her suitcase and bags full of props and other equipment across the poorly paved parking lot. König zeroes in on her and before he knows it, he’s approaching her, asking her if she needs help carrying her stuff. Dancer, surprised but this gigantic man suddenly appearing before her, flashes a winning smile at him and says he can. König easily lugs the stuff to Dancer’s car. She thanks him profusely and just like that, she drives away.

It’s only a few hours later that the obsession starts to creep in. König, who’s ordinarily not a big social media user, is now checking the feeds and stories of his friends who attended the wedding. Finally, he comes across one friend who posted a video of themself with the dancer and tagged her Instagram. König can’t click on it fast enough and suddenly, he’s greeted by dozens of images and photos of Dancer. Some are adorably mundane. He finds out that Dancer teaches classes at a studio nearby, and some of the videos consist of dancer teaching basic moves to the camera. There are other videos of her at the local hookah bar, where she performs on a regular basis. König sees one particularly video of Dancer doing a piece of floor work, that same sword balanced proudly on her head as she’s propped back on her arms, her gorgeous hips undulating toward the sky. König feels a dark wave of heat wash over him. He jokingly thinks to himself that maybe he should take up hookah. But one thing is for certain, she’s going to be his one day. He’ll just have to be sneaky about it, subtle.

He clicks the follow button on Dancer’s instagram. She has a few thousand followers. Surely she can’t notice one faceless profile, right? 😈😈😈😈😈😈

Anyway, that’s all I have for now. I know you’re taking a break from fics but if you see this I want you to know you’re an amazing writer. Lots of love! 💖💖💖💖

Ughhh and another lovely soul 😭💗 I don't know what's going on in here this week but both you and anon have really made my heart swell!

And please please please, spam liking is never frowned upon here (I don't know why anyone would block someone who's clearly not a bot for loving your stuff?!) It's such a delight if I see that someone has liked a ton of things instead of just one. It's the highest compliment and praise! ❤️🥺

And your bellydancer prompt/drabble is so mouthwatering, god. If I'm being honest, I'd read whatever you wrote for this thing in a hot minute because you have the skill and you've done the research (an actual bellydancer in my inbox?! Ok Salome try not to be a creep) and the premise is just. GAH. So good, especially with yandere König! ❤️❤️❤️

I have to reveal I wrote like 8 chapters of a story relatively close to this in the fall: Stalker!König obsessing about reader, invading her DMs on Instagram and literally stalking her. She's not a bellydancer, but damn if I didn't think about changing her into one... :) The story is on hold for now, but here is a little snippet as a thank you gift!

CW: Yandere/Stalker!König, harassing, obsessive behavior

I’m sorry, Liebling. You were too beautiful yesterday. I got carried away.

You wake up just to see that your phone is full of messages. From him, of course. He’s created another account on Instagram.

I’m just a man.

You ignore it altogether, even if there’s messages and emails from other people too. You simply go to brush your teeth, hearing how the phone buzzes on your desk.

I know it was disrespectful. I could never call my wife that. Will you forgive me?

You sigh and finish with your morning routine, but the phone buzzes again.

I sent you flowers. Did you get them?

It’s like he knows when you’re awake, because you can see the messages from your screen without having to unlock it. Even if he refreshed your conversation every minute, every second, he can’t possibly see that you’ve seen them yet.

It bugs you to no end, this feeling that he somehow knows that you’re awake. It’s like he knows your every move. It’s the most unnerving thing, and makes you think about horrible scenarios where he has broken into your house while you’re at work, to install cameras or microphones or something. You feel like you’re about to go mad if this nightmare goes on.

You go to the front door, but hesitate a while before you turn the knob.

What if it’s a trap?

What if he wants to kill you because you yelled at him last night at the pub...? What if there’s a bomb or something that goes off when you open the door, what if he aims at you with a gun from across the street and kills you on your doorstep this morning?

Just what the actual fuck does this guy even want with you...

You sigh with a broken heart and some broken nerves, deciding it’s as good a way to go as any. You turn the knob and open the door, only to find the usual porch, and a large bouquet of dark red roses planted there.

More ice sinks into your stomach as you witness the evidence of him knowing where you live. But the fact that he chose to send red roses… Ugh, this guy is so old-fashioned and so unimpressive that it’s somewhat a dull surprise to actually see flowers on that porch.

Who buys red roses these days?

Couldn’t he have picked peonies or something, something to go with your other decor… Red roses are so eighties, so funeral-like, so boring.

You sigh and go and take the flowers to the trash. Then you walk back to your house, make sure the door is locked tight, and go back to your phone to type a message.

Did you see that?

The answer arrives immediately.

What? ❤️

I threw your flowers in the trash.

There’s bit of a pause after that. Your wannabe boyfriend clearly hasn’t got his eye on you at every given moment. That’s a bit of a surprise, almost a disappointment, actually. But only if you were any more crazy.

The reply comes after about 30 seconds, after a series of Typing… bumping up and down on the screen.

I’m sad.

You get some satisfaction from that, but the first reaction is a tiny, tiny dagger to the heart. You sigh – you do nothing but sigh these days – not only because of his message, but also because you can’t seriously be having a moment of compassion for your stalker, for god's sake.

You make me sad, Liebling 💔 Are you still angry with me?

You throw the phone away and go to make yourself some breakfast, only to stop and turn when you hear the phone buzz again.

I’ll send you more flowers.

Jesus…

You unlock the screen in a frenzy and type a reply in mere seconds.

Don’t bother. I’ll throw them in the bin too.

Typing…

You have to keep them at some point. Trash bins get full so soon.

STOP HARASSING ME.

You throw the phone away for good this time, and don’t come back to it for another hour. You eat your breakfast with squirming insides and a rattled heart, waiting for someone to come bring you flowers at any given moment.

But no one ever comes.

You check your phone before going to work, but there’s nothing from him there. You go and block his new profile, unsurprised to see that there are no pictures this time, not even a profile picture (well, there is one, but it’s only a black circle), just in case. You don’t know why you didn’t block him in the first place.

There’s a radio silence for a few days. You spend them at the edge of your seat, with lots of trouble sleeping, but soon start to ease into the fact that maybe he finally had enough. Maybe you were not as interesting or attractive as he thought when he met you in person…

Wait, what?

Gosh, you can’t be this desperate... You simply can’t. This has to end.

You don’t talk about him in therapy, mainly to convince yourself that you’re not thinking about him at all. You’re not missing him harassing and stalking you, and you’re not disappointed that he didn’t send you enough flowers to fill your entire bin.

You know you should address this: this crazy need to be something groundbreaking to someone. To want someone to be this obsessed with you, no matter how sick that someone was. You know you would have gone to the police if your stalker was the sleazy, weak-wristed man from the pub. You would’ve packed your bags and moved houses already, changed your name and closed your social media accounts, quit everything if your stalker was small and ugly and weak.

But now that you know he’s relatively good-looking, does something dangerous and has a lot of money, and looks like he could fuck and fight half the city by himself, you’re not in that much of a hurry to go to the authorities.

You’re even a bit sad that your stalker hasn’t given you any fevered attention these past few days... He hasn’t even asked you how you’ve been.

No one has asked you how you’ve been: no one ever does. You have to wade through this life all by yourself: depressed and anxious and crazy. Lonely… And horny.

Gods, you just want someone to hold you at night… Someone strong, and big, someone who would pay a few bills for you, take care of you and give you a round of good sex…

Your phone buzzes from time to time, but there’s no message from him. One night before going to sleep, relatively early, so early that it could be called the bedtime for old spinsters, you break down and cry a little. It’s not a wail: only a soft little sob, a few sniffles and a couple of tears until your nose gets clogged and the pillow is wet.

Your phone buzzes, and you reach for it, feeling so, so pathetic when you hope it would be him.

And the message is from him.

You’re the most beautiful woman on this earth. I know I fucked up. I’m just a horny dog and I don’t deserve you.

You sniffle and rise to sit, your whole system fully awake now. Oh god... You’re so fucked.

The message makes you feel incredibly good and sweet, almost giddy. It feels like he’s kneeled right there in front of you, like a knight who has misbehaved in the throes of his lust. You know it’s ridiculous, but you start to smile a little, and the tears dry on their own. The merry feeling is followed by righteous rage, a little fit, because he’s made you wait for days, he’s tortured you in every way possible, and he does absolutely nothing right.

You unlock the screen and start to type, not thinking it through at all before hitting send.

That’s right.

Fuck… Shit. That was a mistake. No, a huge error.

Why did you have to send that? Stooping to his level, sending stupid things like that…

You put the phone away quickly, then reach for it again to delete what you just send. But it’s too late.

I can be a good dog if you forgive me.

The message is waiting for you already, and when you don’t reply, the oppressive, ominous Typing… hits on the screen once more. God, how could you be so stupid…

I’ll kill anyone you need me to kill. I'll give you money, whatever you need. A new kitchen so you can cook me something nice? I’ll be a good dog, I promise.

What did you even expect?

Everything always blows up when you give him attention: any dumb person knows better than to give this hungry dog a bone. You’re just too fond of digging your own grave, it seems.

There’s no end to the messages: this guy starts typing a new one every time he has sent the last.

I’ll fuck you like a good dog too….

You lean your forehead to your palm, trying to figure out a way to stop this.

And then–

Fuck, now I’m hard

You take a quick breath of air and put the phone away.

Please don’t send a dick pic, please don’t send a dick pic…

The phone buzzes.

Look how hard you make me

There’s a picture attached, but you can’t see it when the screen is locked.

This is what I have to live with, day and night…

Message after message, your phone buzzes, and you check them quickly from your screen, swearing to yourself that you’re not going to give him the satisfaction of opening the conversation and checking the image he sent you. You know perfectly well what you will find if you do that.

But after only a minute or two, you unlock the phone, and open the conversation with your heart ramming in your chest.

Just one quick look...

[candiid-caniine]

Hey! Long time no see, i know i said id send you a fantasy i thought you'd like but now ive forgotten almost all of it, oop!

Life happened, and uh, i saw that you mentioned your libido being a bit low, which definitely is my case too (im recovering from depression, now that im okay id love to get my FULL libido back, or at least a good percentage of it) do you have any tips on that?

Also any recs of blogs writing in the same vibe as you? (same-ish kinks would be nice but im specifically looking for queer inclusive stuff!) it makes me 10x hornier than the regular video/photo porn!

Hope you're well, you pathetic little thing!

💫

hi friend!! ugh i feel you. sorry i haven't got any advice on regaining ur libido...we just let mine wax and wane as it will, though denial has been a big help in keeping it steady!

i've heard good things abt ginseng and some other herbs. obvs use at your own risk, mind that some herbal treatments can cross-interact with certain medications, remember that pre-packaged supplement pills are often unregulated and may contain toxins, and be aware that some herbal remedies work better on pw certain anatomy than others, and finally that many herbal remedies considered to increase libido are largely untested on trans folx!

finally, sorry it's taken so long to answer this ask...i'm autistic and have been cataloguing lol. i present to you a list of other blog recs under the cut, organized by general vibe! i've tried to primarily include blogs that do their own posts rather than those who primarily reblog :)

note that my headings may provide some context as to what to expect, but you read at your own risk and each blog will typically have its own trigger warnings addressed in the header/pinned. additionally, i've not tagged some of the ppl below because they prefer that "Men DNI" blogs not interact, and idk if "no cis men" qualifies ahah!

all blogs below are queer- and/or trans-inclusive, if not exclusive! there is no detrans/misgendering, at least I don't think - i don't tend to follow those blogs.

hard kinks (blood, knives, etc; includes primarily-cnc blogs):

@puppy-mommy , who also does general t4t kink content, but does state untagged hard kinks!

@visciousest is someone whose blog i scroll when i'm in a Certain Mood ahah,, i won't elaborate

@hell-hound-bites: just. fuck. would drool on his knife blade.

@snuff-fag: its username should give you fair warning as to how wild its content tends to get, so please browse responsibly.

@condor-bait is taking a break right now, and all my love is with him as he takes care of himself. he made me feel so valid and so fuckable as a young trans person learning to love myself in a new way, and i've always been too shy to tell him how much his content meant to me one-on-one (yes, despite its often-extreme themes!), and he deserves as much time as he needs to heal!

@unwillingfvckpuppy for mostly cnc and medical kinks! if you like his style, but not so much their harder content, he also has a more-tame main blog--i just mainly follow/scroll this one!

@vampvictim: top-tier cnc/intox stuff, plus some great knife/bloodplay :)

@cryptidtid is wonderful and holy shit i follow a lot of hard kink blogs lol. incredible

@cnc-pet: i have been following her for a long ass fucking time lol. they post a lot of really good cnc and stories, but you'll also find a lot of aftercare tips and advice on her blog! i really admire blogs who try to balance horny content with best practices

@dollobotomy

general kinky content:

@excessively-queer . just plain old good shit :) there's a good amt of edging and degradation.

@clouded-king was honestly one of my earlier introductions to the queer/t4t kink community on here and how fucking euphoric it can be :) he posts some hard kinks, but generally it's a balance of a lot of different kinks so read his pinned at your leisure!

@ / cottontailx : just good kinky nsft posts :)

@ / digitalpenetration: often specifically t4t which i love!!

@femmelovefemme can step on me :)

@bigothteddies: could not build this section w/o mentioning him :) they had a big influence on my fantasies for a long time!

@hazelj-xoxo: bigtime want her to cuck me. have followed her across multiple blog deletions lol

@transpidered is forever an icon!

@subspaceemo

@writefinch for great stories and text posts

edging and denial, specifically:

@6irlpet is 1 of my go-to hands-down-pants scroll sessions :)

@droolkink is my inspiration!

@flustersluts does exactly what the name implies lol. a good helping of other kink content too :)

@puppycvnt is a 10/10!

@barkwoofbarkwoofbark: we r denial friends imo!!

@strawbrrysub

@blyssful-abyss

@urhighnessbitch is a big fav <3

non-detrans genderplay:

@butchviolence does amazing butch supremacy stuff and i,,, fucking hell. even just seeing their username puts me in a Particular state of mind ahah. they also post hard kinks so be aware as you proceed!

@mtfdomme: i literally just reblogged from her today lol. tbh i want to be their little stupid pupthing. it's not all transfem supremacy undertones/overtones, but that's what i mainly follow her for, plus just general t4t goodness! also, their general personality? and the way she shuts down people who disrespect their boundaries? huge inspiration for me!

@cuntboydestroyer: take me to the animal shelter and neuter me. good lord.

@the-kind-of-dame is the main inspiration for my recent genderplay post lol

@terfbreaking-tgirl (be warned of dykebreaking if that's an issue for you)

@barbarian-lesbian is my other inspiration for the recent genderplay post

@superiorineveryway

weird asf (/complimentary; my favorite type of shit. robots, ND-focused posts, etc):

@specksizedgoddess has introduced me to things i didn't know, like...existed, and that's saying a lot as one of my special interests is kink! never knew how down bad i was to be a tiny buggirl, nor how much i wanted to be someone's stupid little robot... BIG tw tho: there is snuff and gore content here, so proceed with caution if you don't wanna see that!

@sapphling fucked me up real good with some bird!sub bondage posts awhile back lol

@nobelisha: found them through their ghost cnc post so that's why they're in this category ahah! they don't have a pinned so proceed w awareness :)

@devout-cleric: hierophilia/religion kink, and i'm something of an acolyte of hers :) if you've read this far down you may as well know i'm her Little Lamb anon lol

piss/omo:

@latenightomo

@pissheartmybeloved - their URL makes me crack up every time, plus good content!

@hold-it-a-little-longer - good scenarios/imagines!

@ohmyrashi - (i think) my original intro to omo!

monsterfucking/terato:

@septimus-moonlight was my first real introduction to trans-positive terato and i've never settled for half-fun cis-oriented terato ever since :) mind tags!

@eggedbellies as well!

@bredpun doesn't appear to be active lately but still good for a scroll!

@steamandcream

@of-mutts-and-men

[writing-with-olive]

Doing activism when you can't leave your home

A lot of times when we think of activism, we think of marches and irl community events and stuff like that. But what can you do if you can't leave your home and don't have a ton of extra cash on hand? (Note that these are ideas to get you thinking, not an exhaustive list. Feel free to send me an ask if you want more in-depth info)

Important: it's really hard to keep up activism if you're burnt out or physically exhausted. If you're stuck at home because you are recently injured or are actively sick, or anything else that requires you to take care of yourself first, do that. Same for chronic illness; mind your flare-ups and play the long game. There will always be more activism for you to do when you've got the resources for it.

Outreach Options

Call your representatives. This can be at any level: city, state, federal, etc. A lot of decisions can be influenced if a lot of people call on a major thing, saying "hey you gotta pass this" or "absolutely do not vote for it." Similarly, if there's a more niche bill happening, fewer voices can also have an outsized impact. If you wanna combine your efforts with the efforts of other people, consider getting on the newsletter of organizations like Indivisible, who can help you stay up-to-date and provide resources for staying involved.

Build call scripts. For a lot of people, calling can be really scary, either because they don't know what to say, or because talking on the phone just isn't their thing. If you're in the latter, group, you can still help people in the former. If there's a bill or issue that a representative is going to be voting on in the future that you want to make your voice heard about, you can use a template like this one and post it so that other people can use it.

Send emails to your city council. City councils generally have a public comment date each month with the option to submit a written comment if you can't be there in person. If there is an issue you want to see addressed in your city, reach out that way.

Write an op-ed. If you have a local paper that has options available for this, consider writing a piece as it relates to whatever cause you're championing. Guidelines can differ by paper, but it can be a good way to get an idea out.

Use social media to talk about an issue. Generally this works better if you have something to add or are staying with a particular topic, rather than simply waving around all the issues under the sun, because the latter can cause your posts to get lost in the noise. For example, while I talk about an abundance of problems on my blog, my focus is activism education and helping people see ways that they can get engaged personally, and posts like that tend to get the most traction.

Research Options

Get involved in citizen science. You can check out sites like Zooniverse to find ways that you can help. In a lot of disciplines, multiple (the number varies by discipline) random people processing data can be about as accurate as one trained person, because the duplicity helps to balance out the errors one person will make. Lots of projects in climate science, archival work, linguistics, cosmology, and a bunch of others need help analyzing the large amounts of data they've collected, so you can be a part of the work that's trying to address world problems.

Keep an eye on local or organizational goings-on. This one pairs with outreach, as it's really only helpful insofar as you're able to do something with the information you gather, but lots of news isn't going to really focus on a city-level committee or something unless they take particularly flashy action. If there's local politics that live-stream their meetings, you can tune in. Lots of patterns are slow to arise and take multiple meetings to notice, but once you've got your bearings you can talk to other people about taking action in response. For example, I once noticed a previous mayor was more likely to shut down conversation during meetings if she was talking to an individual than she was if she was talking to a business rep. That small detail was a large contributing factor to the way my locality was getting gentrified, and once I noticed it, I was able to draw attention to it.

Help teach others. This isn't so much research on your end, but rather helping others get the skills for it. There may be other platforms that are useful for this, but the one I've got experience with is Upchieve, which is volunteer text-based tutoring for low income students who otherwise wouldn't have access to out-of-class help. It's a "whenever you feel like it" model, and will pair you with students who are on at the same time you are and need help in something you're prepared to help them with.

IRL Local Organizing Options

Host organizing meetings. Obviously this is going to depend a lot on your situation, but if you want to be a part of meetings but can't leave your home, you might still be able to invite people over, and make some of the work happen where you're at.

Help out with prep work for events. Maybe you can't help with the public facing side of an event, but if a whole bunch of envelopes need to be stuffed beforehand, or baking needs to happen for a sale, or supplies need to be sorted into boxes, or other similar assembly needs to happen, you can ask another member of your organization to drop the components off at your place, and let them know when it's set to get picked up again.

Do some of the logistics work. It's not sexy, but activism groups live or die based on how well they can keep track of their resources, who's doing what, and what upcoming plans are. If you can manage a spreadsheet or keep internal communications going, that can be vital. Maybe you can't be in person, but if you are providing operations information to the people who can, you'll still be invaluable.

[saintkaylaa]

Heyy, love your work, just have a quick comment:

I think Jean is a bit more brave and mature than he looks in your SMAU's. I really hope this doesn't offend you in anyway. Please keep writing, love ya!

Not offended! Constructive criticism is always welcomed here🤍

You’re right about Jean! I definitely try to make sure I get enough of his maturity to balance out his goofy, but I think people tend to forget that if he wasn’t in a war setting that he probably would act like a dork and even a little childish more than the glimpses we see in aot. That’s why I approach his character the way that I do. My aot smaus are set in a college au, so there wouldn’t be more reason to have to be serious and mature all the time like we see in aot. I think that’s one of the largest reasons he is so close to Connie and Sasha in aot as well. They’re all goofy dorks at their core.

The other reason he may come off “not brave” is bc his reader is modeled after Mikasa. Who is strong but scary, and seems to be his type. And I make sure that I’m showing that contrast in the texts! I hope that makes sense😭

Thank you!🤍

Also gentle reminder I do block minors and ageless blogs so please try to have one visible🤍