#what a conundrum for the ages

[amogusfetichist]

I was doodling in class and I accidentally did this

Look at her

[modwyr]

love making little pinterest boards for the stories in my head. would also love to actually work on them.

[today-i-am-thinking-about]

bicycles

[daincrediblegg]

the only problem with saying (of lady terror's father) that " She had rather thought, as she had many times before, that had she been born a man, she may look the very mirror image of him. As it was, her face was far gentler in its curvature and bearing, and her hair rather a deep warm shade of brown as opposed to her father’s once jet-black locks (which now were nearly all but grey and white in his seventy odd years of age), but the sweet turn of her nose, and the deep darkness of her eyes were unmistakably his." is that I have like 3 different guys I've been pingponging in the back of my head to faceclaim as Charles Sinclair and some of them look fucking nothing like her 😭

[gghostwriter]

Whispered Truths

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your weekly reading club with boyfriend, Spencer Reid, has never been as sweet and life-changing as this night Trope: Fluff! Just fluff! w.c: 0.8k a/n: This is actually a request from @bloodredrubyrose and I really liked how this came out. I also used my favorite piece of fiction here as a prop so I hope you like it! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

Couples, no matter how new or old, tend to create personalized dates as a way to strengthen the relationship. Some go on hikes together, some go on travels, while some stay in the comfort of their homes—under a blanket with a chosen book on hand.

You and Spencer definitely fall under the latter category. It was quite obvious from the first meeting that literature would be one of the strongest bonding agents between you and him. After all, it was how you were brought together—crashing into one another at the library with books and miscellaneous items scattered on the tiled floor. A few shy glances and bewitching dates later, you found yourself spending your Saturday nights in the presence of your boyfriend of six months, hosting an exclusive reading club with just two members, you and him.

“I never thought of it that way,” your left hand paving an aimless path through Spencer’s curly hair while the other held the book up high.

The pitter patters of the rain outside softly echoed through the walls. You were propped up on the loveseat sofa, his head resting on your lap as he looked upwards in question in regards to your statement.

“Never thought of which?” His voice low and soft, striking a resemblance to how he gazed at you oh so lovingly. As if you were the most riveting piece if art he had ever laid his eyes upon.

“How water played a big symbol throughout the whole book. It was really focused on during the first chapters but I—I just never quite connected the dots,” you clarified, bring the book to a close.

It was your choice for the week, East of Eden by John Steinbeck—a modern classic and had been your favorite work of literature since high school. Spencer had lent his copy to you last week and you vice versa—both turning brown from age, pages about to fall apart from its binding, annotations scribbled on the margins and any lengthy self reflections written on various notebook pages sandwiched in between.

“Your explanation on the empty pages at the end—how water is capable of bringing both life and death. Water being essential for the crops but at the same time, drowned victims. It’s such a poignant note that I think I just fell more in love with Steinbeck’s writing,” you added. “It also made me realize how water in his novel represents the dual capacity of the human soul for good and evil. How we are all filled with conundrums and contradictions and what makes us different from the other species on Earth is our ability to choose whether we are good or evil—” Spencer had sat up and leaned in, interrupting your musings. “—what?” You breathed out as his lips hovered on yours.

The once cozy atmosphere quickly charged with tension and desire that seemed to ooze out of Spencer. There was little space in between and you had no doubt that from the outside looking in, it looked like he was kissing you but he was not, rather a sliver of air was still given space to pass through. So close but so far.

You studied his features up close. How his long lashes fluttered like butterfly wings beating against the wind as his molten, darkened, hazel eyes flickered between your lips and eyes. How his nose lightly caressed yours in an endless Eskimo kiss. How his cheeks stained into a lighter shade of red. And how his pink tongue peeked out to wet his pillowy lips. 

“I’m in love with you,” he whispered as if it was some kind of national secret that he now felt right to expose.

Your breath caught in your throat. This was the first time he had said it. His love for you had been conveyed with every touch, with every action, and with every silence but this was the first time he had put it into words.

His lips caressed yours—the pressure almost non-existent. A ghost of a kiss to gauge your reaction and consent.

“I love you,” he repeated a little louder this time, eyes locking into the very depths of your soul. “You and your mind have enchanted me since the beginning—so beautiful, so captivating.”

The butterflies set free in your stomach caused you to viscerally shiver in reaction.

“I love you too, Spencer.”

A smile graced his face and it was bright and as blinding as the sun, like it had finally decided to stop hiding behind the clouds and show itself in all of its glory.

He leaned in once more. The pressure from his lips now heavier and headier, trying to stamp his everlasting mark on you and in between all these kisses were whispers of his utter devotion and adoration until there was no more space—until you both became one on his loveseat sofa.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[sarahreesbrennan]

Are all the themes in “in other lands” supposed to be a commentary on something? Or do you just like writing sex scenes between minors, age gaps, and reverse misogyny?

Genuine question.

Ohhh, my dear anon, I don't believe this is a genuine question.

But it does bring up something I've been meaning to talk about. So I'll take the bait.

Firstly. Yes, my work contains a commentary on the world around us. I wonder what I could be doing with the child soldiers being sexually active in their teens (people hook up right after battles), and the age gap relationship ending in the younger one being too mature for the elder. What could I possibly have been attempting when I said 'how absurd gender roles are, when projected onto people we haven't been accustomed by our own society to see that way'? I wasn't being subtle, that's for sure.

Secondly. Yes I do enjoy writing! I think I should, it's my life's work. Am I titillated by my own writing, no - though I think it's fine to be. The sex scenes of In Other Lands aren't especially titillating, to be honest. It is interesting to me how often people sneer at women for writing romance and sex scenes, having 'book boyfriends,' insinuating women writers fancy their own characters. Women having too much immoral fun! Whereas men clearly write about sex for high literary purposes.

… I have to say from my experience of women and men's writing, I haven't found that to be true.

I’m not in this to have an internet argument. Mostly people use bad faith takes to poke at others from the other side of a screen for kicks. But I do know some truly internalise the attitude that writing certain things is wrong, that anyone who makes mistakes must be shunned as impure, and that is a deeply Victorian and restrictive attitude that guarantees unhappiness.

I've become increasingly troubled by the very binary and extreme ways of thinking I see arising on the internet. They come naturally from people being in echo chambers, becoming hostile to differing opinions, and the age-old conundrum of wanting to be good, fearing you aren't, and making the futile effort to be free of sin. It makes me think of Tennyson, who when travelling through Ireland at the time of the Great Famine, said nobody should talk about the 'Irish distress' to him and insisted the window shades of his carriage be shut as he went from castle to castle. So he wouldn't see the bodies. But that didn't make the bodies cease to be.

In Les Mis, Victor Hugo explores why someone might steal, what that means about them and their circumstances, and who they might be - and explores why someone else is made terribly unhappy, and endangers others, through their own too rigid adherence to judgement and condemnation without pity. The story understands both Jean Valjean the thief and Javert the policeman. Javert’s way of thinking is the one that inevitably leads to tragedy.

Depiction isn't endorsement. Depiction is discussion.

Many of my loved ones have had widely varying relationships to and experience of sex (including 'none'). They've felt all different types of ways about it. If writing about them is not permissible, I close them out. I'd much rather a dialogue be open than closed.

I do understand the urge to write what seems right to others. I've been brain-poisoned that way myself. I used to worry so much about my female characters doing the wrong things, because then they'd be justly hated! Then I noted which of my writer friends had people love their female characters the most - and it was the one who wrote their female characters as screwing up massively, making rash and sometimes wrong decisions. Who wrote them as people. Because that's what people do. That's what feels true to readers.

I want my characters to feel true to readers. I want my characters to react in messy ways to imperfect situations. I love fantasy, I love wild action and I love deep thought, and I want to engage. That's what In Other Lands is about. That's even more what Long Live Evil is about. That sexy lady who sashays in to have sexy sex with the hero - what is her deal? Someone who tricks and lies to others - why are they doing that, how did they get so skilled at it? What makes one person cruelly judgemental, and another ignore all boundaries? What makes Carmen Maria Machado describe ‘fictional queer villains’ as ‘by far the most interesting characters’? What irritates people about women having a great time? What attracts us to power, to fiction, and to transgression?

I don’t know the answers to all those questions, but I know I want to explore them. And I know one more thing.

If the moral thing to do is shut people out and shut people up? Count me among the villains.

[mywitchyblog]

Reality Shifting and Age Changing Explained: A Deep Dive into the "Controversial" Practice

Introduction: Reality Shifting, the mind-bending practice of moving your consciousness/awareness to another reality (known as a Desired Reality or DR), has sparked intense debates within the community. One of the hottest topics? Age changing – the act of shifting to a different age in your DR. This shit has caused so many arguments, especially about ethics and what's "allowed". Let's break down why age changing isn't as fucked up as some people make it out to be, and why those who say otherwise might need to reconsider their stance. I will Mostly talk about agin yourself down since that is what is making the biggest noise

Taglist of various people who i think would be interested in this post (i will update it progresively) :

@shiftersroom You wanted my opinion ? Here is it /pos

@norumis I saw that post of yours

@evangelineshifts and @reiashiftsrealities Talked my project on your discord lol.

@jolynesmom Loved your post about it btw

Warning : READ IT FULLY BEFORE JUMPING TO CONCLUSIONS THANK YEW

My Race Chaging Post

Masterlist

Part I: Why Age Changing Isn't Bad

a. The Maturity Conundrum: When you look at the source of this controversy, you'll realize it revolves around the maturity gap between the shifter and their DR . Critics argue that age changing either doesn't alter your maturity (meaning if you're a teen in your DR, you still have the maturity of your Original Reality (OR), essentially making you an adult in a minor's body) or that it's inherently problematic. But here's the thing: when you shift, you fully take on the age and mindset of your DR self. You're not just playing pretend; you actually become that age. If you can get your DR self's memories, abilities, skills, and personality, why the fuck is it so far-fetched to think you can have their maturity as well?

Let's break this down scientifically. Maturity is dependent on brain development, more precisely, the coordinated functioning of four distinct zones:

Prefrontal Cortex (PFC): The "CEO" responsible for planning, decision-making, impulse control, and emotional regulation.

Limbic System: The "Marketing & Sales" team that influences emotions, motivation, and memory, shaping how we perceive situations and respond.

Basal Ganglia: The "Operations" department that controls habits and translates plans into action.

Temporal Lobes: "Customer Service & Public Relations" that processes social cues and guides our interactions with others.

This neurological ensemble shows that maturity is something physical, related to the brain development of an individual. It's been established in the shifting community that you cannot bring physical things across realities, so what makes you think you can bring your CR brain with you?

If that were the case, scripting a different personality, skills, and knowledge would be impossible. This means your DR self has its own cognitive and emotional frameworks developed in that reality. Your experiences and maturity are context-specific (in that case reality specific), so when you shift back to your OR, you regain your OR maturity. Shifting isn't like a permanent personality change; it's more like fully immersing yourself in a different role or life. Which is exactly what happens.

b. Debunking Anti-Aging Arguments:

"If you age yourself down, that means you're attracted to minors/you're a pedophile": This argument is complete bullshit. If there are gay people shifting to be heterosexual, lesbian shifters shifting for men, aro/ace people shifting to experience romantic/sexual attraction they never do in this reality, then aging yourself down and potentially having romantic and/or sexual relationships as a minor with another minor doesn't mean you're attracted to minors as an adult in another reality. This take is a "Hasty Generalization" fallacy – making a broad generalization based on a small or unrepresentative sample.

"Why in this reality are you thinking about dating minors??": This type of take is not what you think it is, baby girl. It's called a fallacy, more specifically the Straw Man fallacy. It occurs when someone misrepresents or oversimplifies an opponent's argument to make it easier to attack or refute. In our case, they're trying to oversimplify something as complex and nuanced as reality shifting, not taking into account valid instances where one would age themselves down.

"Even if you are the same age, you still have the awareness of being an adult, which means you're a predator": And again, another fallacious argument. Seriously, aren't y'all sick and tired of bouncing on my wood all day long? That's not how shifting works, and you know it. We aren't even sure awareness works like this. It's just a theory, plus I can tell that a lot of people with this stupid-ass take haven't shifted at all.When you shift – and let me tell you because I did shift, so I know how awareness works – when you shift to a reality, you don't even realize you've shifted at first because for you, existing, waking up, just living in this reality is something normal, not extraordinary at all. Then something will trigger the fact that you know you've shifted, and from the perspective of you in your DR, you don't feel as if you "originate" from a specific reality. For you, your DR becomes your CR, and subsequently,so does your awareness. You just know there's another reality, another version of you that exists and that you're an adult there. Your existence/consciousness/awareness is like a circle: no beginning, no end, no origin.Plus, according to the concept of infinite realities and possibilities, you can change via scripting how your awareness works. I haven't done that; that's how I and thousand of shifters WHO DID ACTUALLY SHIFT personally experienced/perceived our awareness while in our DR.

"Using shifting to age yourself down to date a minor while being an adult hereand saying 'oh well according to multiverse I AM this age, it doesn't matter ifI'm an adult in a different reality' is similar to trying to pursue someone thesecond they are of legal age when that shit varies in other countries/states": Nah, seriously, do some of y'all have actual arguments to defend your point of view except fallacious ones that have as much value as my nonexistent heterosexuality? The statement equates aging down in a Desired Reality to the practice of pursuing someone as soon as they reach the legal age in this reality, which is a "false equivalence" fallacy. These scenarios are fundamentally different in nature and intent. In reality shifting, the individual adopts the full cognitive and emotional framework of their DR self, becoming that version of them entirely. This is not comparable to someone in this reality deliberately targeting individuals based on legal age thresholds. The intent and context are distinct. Do some of you people realise that an actual predator/creep/pedophile would not age themselves down once they realized they could strike a chord as an adult in their DR without any consequences?

c. Valid Reasons for Age Changing:

Exploration and Nostalgia: Some people age down to relive experiences or explore stages of life they missed in their OR. It's like getting a second chance at living life. Maybe you want to experience high school without the anxiety, or have a childhood free from trauma. This shit can be healing as fuck and the best therapy there is in the multiverse.

Healing and Fulfillment: Shifting to a younger age can help heal from missed opportunities or trauma, like experiencing a fulfilling teenage romance or a carefree childhood. It's a way to rewrite parts of your life that were painful or unfulfilled.Imagine being able to have loving parents if you didn't in your OR,or getting to pursue that dream you gave up on as a kid.

Non-Sexual Intentions: Many shifters change their age without any sexual motives, focusing more on friendships, adventures, or just being in a different stage of life. It's about experiencing life from a different perspective, not about fetishizing youth. You might want to join a high school club, go to prom, or just enjoy the simpler responsibilities of being younger.

Tried to shift since being a minor: A lot of shifters discovered shifting when they were still minors and made DRs whose age corresponded to the one they had in their OR at the time and tried to shift again and again despite the years. Are you telling me that you're going to tell those people to discard those realities the moment they turn 18? Bitch, make it make sense and you cant.

Part II: Examining the Discourse Within the Reality Shifting Community

a. Teenage Shifters : Double standards and hypocrisy. Teenage Shifters need to acknowledge the hypocrisy of them shifting to a DR where they are a married adult with kids one day and then deciding to shift to a reality where they are 15 and dating another 15-year-old the next. This inconsistency becomes even more problematic when they complain about their "maturity" being affected upon returning to their original reality. Furthermore, these same shifters often label adult shifters as "predatory" for shifting to realities where they interact with high schoolers, failing to recognize the double standard in their own behavior.

This hypocrisy extends to their attitudes towards sexual content and relationships. Teenage shifters often defend scripting mature content in their desired realities, arguing that teens naturally have such desires. However, they become outraged when adult shifters express a desire to experience young love again through shifting. This inconsistency is further highlighted by their willingness to engage in adult behaviors with older partners in one reality while simultaneously pursuing teenage relationships in another.

This hypocrisy extends to their attitudes towards sexual content and relationships. Teenage shifters often defend scripting mature content in their desired realities, arguing that teens naturally have such desires. However, they become outraged when adult shifters express a desire to experience young love again (or expereince young love they never did) through shifting. This inconsistency is further highlighted by their willingness to engage in adult behaviors with older partners in one reality while simultaneously pursuing teenage relationships in another.

Moreover, the logic applied to adult shifters - that having a teenage love interest in a desired reality implies attraction to minors in the original reality - is not consistently applied to teenage shifters who frequently shift between adult and teenage experiences. This disparity in reasoning further underscores the bias within the community.

Lastly, the pressure to shift before reaching adulthood in the original reality is a concerning trend. The community's belief that minor-aged shifters can shift to any age creates an implicit urgency to experience various realities before becoming an adult, after which such experiences might be viewed as pedophilic fantasies by the wider community.

Many Shifters who are minors (I do not say that all shifters that are minors are like this, just a huge amount) have a very odd understanding of what shifting is. They often treat it like cosplay, which is not what true shifting is about. They accuse adults who age down of being predatory, yet they:

Age themselves up to be with adults.

Age down adults to be with them.

Have pornstar or stripper DRs, which is ironic considering their criticisms.

This double standard reveals a lack of understanding about the true nature of shifting and the subjective experience of each shifter. It's like they're playing by different rules depending on what suits them at the moment.

Consider this mind-fuck: A 17-year-old shifts to another reality, lives there for 40 years, then comes back and dates someone who's 17 in their CR. By their logic, this makes them predatory because they've lived for 57 years. Conversely, if they return to their CR as a 17-year-old and date a 57-year-old because they're "57 in shifting age," it's still seen as wrong. This highlights the inconsistency in their arguments and the subjective nature of age and experience across realities.

It's like trying to apply the rules of chess to a game of poker – it just doesn't work. Each reality has its own context, and trying to apply blanket rules across all of them is an exercise in futility.

b. The Hypocrisy of shiftok : Oppresive and unfounded dogma, lack of empathy and Cultish Tendencies

The TikTok reality shifting community, colloquially known as "Shiftok," often displays a concerning lack of empathy and nuanced understanding when discussing complex issues surrounding shifting experiences. This is exemplified by the interaction shown in the image below :

In the first comment, an individual expresses feeling emotionally and mentally stunted due to missing formative experiences while growing up(which is true a lack of expereince can stunt someone s well being and developement). They view shifting as a potential way to have those experiences and achieve personal growth. This perspective highlights the therapeutic potential some see in reality shifting. However, the response to this vulnerable admission is harsh and dismissive: "Just bc your childhood got fcked up does not give you the right to fck up another child's." This reply demonstrates the judgmental attitude prevalent in the Shiftok community, where complex motivations are often reduced to simplistic, moralistic condemnations.

This interaction illustrates several problematic aspects of the Shiftok discourse:

Lack of empathy: The responder shows no compassion for the original commenter's expressed trauma and stunted development.

Misinterpretation of intentions: The reply assumes malicious intent, ignoring the therapeutic or self-exploratory motivations expressed.

Imposing rigid moral standards: The response applies a single moral framework without considering the subjective nature of ethics across different realities.

Oversimplification of complex issues: The nuanced topic of personal growth through shifting is reduced to a binary "right" or "wrong" judgment.

Hypocrisy: While condemning certain shifting practices, the community often overlooks similar ethical concerns in other contexts, such as minors scripting adult relationships.

This example shows perfectly the need for more thoughtful, empathetic discourse within the shifting community. Rather than rush to judgment, shiftokers should strive to understand diverse perspectives and the complex reasons one would shift to a specific DR of theirs.Otherwise people will keep thinking that we are nothing more than a cult that seeks to exploit the mental health of broken teenagers and prey on their desperationf for fame and money.

c.The "holier than thou" attitude: The "holier than thou" attitude, also known as moral superiority or self-righteousness, is a mindset where individuals or groups believe their moral standards, beliefs, or practices are superior to those of others. This attitude often manifests as judgmental behavior, condescension, and a lack of empathy towards differing viewpoints or experiences.

In the context of Shiftok, the TikTok reality shifting community, this "holier than thou" attitude is particularly evident and problematic. It applies to Shiftok in several ways:

Moral Absolutism: Shiftokers often apply rigid moral standards derived from their original reality (OR) to all desired realities (DRs), ignoring the concept of subjective morality across infinite realities.

Selective Condemnation: The community tends to harshly judge certain practices (like adults shifting to younger ages) while overlooking potentially problematic behaviors by minors (such as scripting adult relationships in their DRs) or people scripting in trauma abuse or that people get SA ed or are in relationship with problematoc people such as murderers and villains.

Lack of Empathy: As demonstrated in the image, there's often a dismissive attitude towards individuals expressing personal struggles or complex motivations for their shifting practices.

Oversimplification of Complex Issues: Nuanced topics are frequently reduced to simplistic "right" or "wrong" judgments, disregarding the multifaceted nature of personal experiences and ethical considerations in shifting. Shiting at its core is complex, nuanced and multifaceted, no black and white its gray.

Assumption of Expertise: Despite many members potentially lacking deep understanding or personal experience with shifting, there's a tendency to speak authoritatively on what is or isn't acceptable in shifting practices. It's always those who either have never shifted or minishifted who yap the most about shifting like they know it all . Honey you don't , you know nothing you have nothing to talk about shut up and try to shift before opening your mouth on a subject you do not have an expertise about.

Gatekeeping: Some members of the community may attempt to dictate who can or cannot engage in certain shifting practices based on arbitrary criteria or personal biases.

Dismissal of Therapeutic Potential: The community often overlooks or dismisses the potential therapeutic or personal growth aspects of shifting, focusing instead on enforcing their perceived moral standards.

This "holier than thou" attitude in Shiftok creates an environment that suppresses open dialogue, discourages the sharing of diverse experiences, and potentially alienates individuals seeking support or understanding within the community. It contradicts the very essence of reality shifting, which is about exploring different perspectives and experiences across infinite realities.

And also the most concerning consequence of this effect, this hypocrisy, this lack of empathy makes shiftok look like a cult in the eyes of other spiritual communities. I do know and disagree when antishifters make the statement that shifting is a cult but I understand and come to agree with them when they say that shiftok is a cult.

This community that is supposed to help one another is just oppressing bullying and suppressing people when they have an opinion that differs from the dogma big shiftokers imposed on the rest of the community thinking that their word is law and they get to write the rules of a practice that is the antithesis of that .Shifting is the epitome of breaking the chains the constraints of this world and its rules. Plus do some of you lot realise that those people that you worship do not give a flying fuck about you ? These people pray on your desperation to keep you on their page.

Shiftok is nothing more than a living sack of horse shit. All the knowledge and tips are just poorly regurgitated from amino and other shifting spaces that existed far before 2020. They immediately closed themselves to outsiders when they saw the damage shiftok did to the community as a whole. When a cultist, shiftoker claims to have this groundbreaking solution /information about shifting keep in mind that 100% of the time it was already known elsewhere.Just not on shiftok and now they are the new shifting Messiah lmao.

Shiftokers sometimes (more like always tbh) ignore the fact that shifting involves complete immersion in the new reality. If it's possible to gain your DR self's memories and personality, then obviously, you'll also become their age mentally as well. You're not just dropped into that life with no context; you fully integrate into that age and lifestyle. When you shift to your DR, that's your new CR. This reality becomes a DR. This reality is not the baseline for anything.

Some people say their memories of their OR feel far away while their DR memories are front and center, making their DR life feel like their primary existence. This means you won't feel like an imposter, no matter how different your DR is from your OR.

In ancient times, gaining spiritual knowledge like shifting required understanding that you are a soul or consciousness having a human experience. Modern cultists shiftokers often skip this step, leading to judgment and misunderstanding. Shifting should be a tool for self-discovery and growth, not just entertainment. This lack of spiritual foundation often leads to a superficial understanding of shifting. It's not just about living out fantasies; it's about expanding consciousness and understanding the nature of reality itself. By focusing solely on the surface-level aspects of shifting, many miss out on the profound insights and personal growth that can come from this practice. Because of the damage shiftok did on the reputation of the practise it is nearly or impossible to break free of the stereotype of shifter being a bunch of mentally ill schoolgirls shifting to be with the wizard version of Nazis (looking at you girlies that shift for Draco Malfoy or Tom Riddle).

Honestly that is the thing that makes me cackle. The most about shiftok i keep hearing and seeing videos from these cultists shiftokers asking and wondering themselves why is the platform dying and why theres no active discussions like sharing tips story times etc...

Bombastic Side Eye-Do you fuckers realised it is all your fault ? You try and silence people when their opinion differs than the one you have.They experienced something you did not you shame and burn them at the stake for it no wonder why people leave that ghetto ass platform and im scared just like a lot of us here of the massive exodus of shiftokers that will happen once tiktok is banned in the US.

Conclusion:

Age changing in shifting isn't inherently bad. It lets people explore different life stages, fulfill desires, and grow personally. The real issue comes when age changing is done for fetishizing purposes, turning ages into objects for sexual gratification. As long as shifters are respectful, consensual, and not exploitative, age changing can be a valid and enriching part of the shifting experience.

Remember, shifting is about expanding your consciousness and experiencing the infinite possibilities of existence. Don't let narrow-minded judgments hold you back from exploring the full potential of this practice. Stay open, stay curious, and most importantly, stay true to your own journey of self-discovery through shifting.

[hotwritergf]

Comfort item🧸

It has been a hell of a day. Early rise and a late finish, with maybe 5 minutes worth of a lunch break in between few cigarettes stops. Getting on the jet felt like finally being able to breathe. The unsub was caught, the case cracked, justice served. That’s what you signed up for. As you open your backpack in your seat, you rummage around in the depths of your bag, a deep sense of guilt and disappointment hitting the pit of your stomach.

You pale, realising you’d left your one comfort item at home.

The whole team had one, Reid had his blanket, Morgan his headphones and JJ a book to read. Yours was rather particular and could not be replaced, your stuffed animal, but he was more than that. He is an Eeyore plushie that you’ve been inseparable with since the day you received him as a birthday gift. Over the years he’d been ripped and sewn up, every time you pretended to give him anaesthetic for his surgery. He’d been with you, through all the nights you couldn’t sleep, the nights you’d cried yourself to sleep. He’d even shared the bed with your ex boyfriends, much to their dismay.

You knew this journey home without Eeyore would be a sleepless one.

"Hi."

Hotch slips himself into the seat next to you. He notices her sitting curled up on the seat and he can't help but notice how miserable you look, curling herself into a ball to almost hide from something.

"Are you doing okay?"

He asks, keeping his voice low to not disturb the others. You whisper in response, just muttering something about being tired.

"You look it. This was a tiring case. You should get some sleep."

He looks across to the others playing cards. Reid was almost definitely cheating again he assumed, as Morgan stared across the table with eyes like daggers, Emily’s head rested on his shoulder as she laughed at the confrontation in front of her.

"They'll probably keep going for a couple more hours if you can ignore them."

You pout, Hotch would be a safe person to share this problem with. He has a child so he’s definitely seen similar conundrums, maybe Jack wasn’t as much as of a baby as you are at the grown age of 22.

“I- I can’t sleep. Not without my Eeyore.”

You mutter under your breath, praying Aaron hears it. Admitting the fact again would be too embarrassing to endure.

He chuckles lightly at her choice of sleep companion.

"And your Eeyore toy is at home?"

He looks down at you, lifting your chin up with his thumb so you look him in the eye. You nod shyly in response, slipping into a nonverbal headspace.

Aaron looks sympathetic as she nods with a frowny face, but he still can’t resist teasing you.

"Aww, you miss your stuffed animal."

He smirks, making a little teasing remark. He matches his facial expression with yours, both modelling pouty frowns. Staring into each other’s eyes, you’re not sure how you started this game of getting the other to break the act and laugh. But you were certainly losing. Your lips curl up into a smirk and you let out a soft breathy giggle, your smile growing when he smirks back.

"Lie down then, come on."

Hotchner pats his lap, offering for her to rest her head on it. He adjusts his position so he's sat more comfortably and begins to gently run his calloused fingers through her hair, gently stroking it.

“This should help you fall asleep, hm?"

You feel the breath you’ve been accidentally holding release, your shoulders fall and for the first time all day you feel calm. You practically purr under his touch, smiling up and nodding at him.

Hotch glances down fondly as his hand continues to gently run through her hair.

"Good."

He lowers his voice to a hushed whisper as to not disturb the other members of the team who are a few seats down.

"You are adorable, you know that?"

You feel your cheeks burn under your new found blush, rolling your head inwards to hide your face in his stomach. You squeal internally, realising you’re basically putty in his hands.

"Hey, what's wrong, hm?"

He questions, still keeping his voice gentle as he glances back down at her, his arms wrapped around her in a tight yet still comfortable hug.

“Nothing.. I- I miss Eeyore, but this is nice too.”

You manage to blurt out, half in nervousness and the other in honesty.

“When you get home, you can tell Eeyore all about how brave you were on your adventure without him. And you’re right, this is nice. Sweet girl, just needed to cuddle up and get a few head scratches. It’s cute you know? It’s precious. Having a comfort item, it doesn’t make you weak.”

Hotch speaks earnestly, running his fingers through your outgrown fridge and tucking the hair behind your ear.

"And I, I'll happily keep doing this as long as it keeps you sleepy. It's kind of cute how much of a baby you are and how easy it is to send you to sleep with a gentle head rub.“

Aaron’s voice sounded like silk, so soft and calming. It makes your eyelids feel heavier until they close. It can’t be that bad to take a nap on your bosses lap, can it?

[midnightsun-if]

DEMO — Chapter One: Part One [34K Words] — 11/12/23

FAQ || PINTEREST || SPOTIFY || DISCORD

Aurelian Academy, the pinnacle of evolution within the supernatural world; the first landmark to be erected after the Dark Ages— the time when supernatural races still lived within the shadows of the mortal world.

You’ve been prepared to go for your entire life— all one hundred years of it. Being the youngest child of a ruling vampire clan didn’t give you much choice in the matter. Going to Aurelian meant taking the next big step in your immortal life regardless.

Will you be able to prove yourself to your parents? To your siblings? Will you be able to uncover the mysteries that surround the ancient school?

Or will everything vanish as the midnight sun approaches?

Create your character. Customize your name, potential nickname, gender (male/female/non-binary), sexuality, appearance, and hobbies. (Note: The MC is a Vampire and is 100 Years Old.)

Choose from 3 Classes— Charmer, Shadow-Kin, or Warrior.

How does your character feel about humans? Are they simply ants that you don’t bother with? Potential allies? An intriguing conundrum?

Do you enjoy the modern world? Or do you miss the simplicity of the past?

Romance 1 of 8 potential romances.

Explore Aurelian Academy and uncover the secrets that litter the ancient halls. Just make sure you don’t miss class while doing so.

Koda Kingston — [He/Him] — Bear-Shifter — He’s a mass of muscle and warmth, eyes filled with good humor and overall joy. Might not have a lot going on upstairs, but he’s definitely got the spirit. [Male MCs Only]

Scarlett Voltaire — [She/Her] — Vampire — Cold as ice, ruthless to any that oppose her, with a flair of heated contempt at the people who annoy her, Scarlett is the middle child to the oldest ruling family within the vampiric race. [Female MCs Only]

Cyrus/Cyra Aurelia — [He/Him or She/Her] — Phoenix — Heir to the Eclipse Throne; they’re the eldest child of House Aurelia, Founders of Aurelian Academy. They’re the pinnacle of what an heir should be: dutiful, strong-willed, and loyal above all else.

Quinn Grant — [He/Him or She/Her] — Wolf-Shifter — An individual that’s been whispered about within the halls of your home; a prospected mate in the event that both your warring families wish to unite. Now that you’re meeting them, you may be able to see if that’ll ever become a reality.

Caden Randall — [He/Him or She/Her] — Phantom — Appearing on a random night five years before, they’re not exactly what someone comes to expect when thinking about a phantom: scared of their own shadow, fretful, and a complete neat freak. They’re tasked with ensuring your stay at Aurelian Academy goes smoothly.

Sloane Addams — [He/Him or She/Her] — Wolf-Shifter — A wolf-shifter without a pack, disgraced in the deepest way possible, they don’t seem to be that overjoyed at the prospect of attending Aurelian Academy, but that doesn’t mean they’re not set on proving themself and finding a pack once more.

Blake Herrera — [He/Him or She/Her] — Demon-Hybrid — Your best friend (and potential FWB). With a flirtatious air, a rebellious spirit, and an affinity at finding trouble, they’re a demon that takes a bit to get used to.

Reginald/Regina Presley — [He/Him or She/Her] — Human — A scholarship student to Aurelian Academy; the first of many that may be attending. With a thirst for knowledge, along with a devil-may-care attitude, they’ll try their best to fit in. Of course, that’s easier said than done. As they’re the first human to ever be admitted as a student.

PINTEREST (OTHER) || MALE ROS FCS || FEMALE ROS FC || FAMILY FCS || ROS SKIN TONES

[aquamarinebling]

I enjoy the idea of the party carrying Siffrin’s ashes in different ways. how they would treasure him in their own methods, in this scenario fulfilling his wish of “carry my ashes with you” in a post-canon context.

mirabelle im not certain on, but i imagine she frets on what to do with them for a long time. she doesn’t want to upset their ghost- even if she doesn’t exactly believe in spirits that way and it’s a lot of her anxiety going “but what if you’re wrong, what if you’re upsetting them and they could never tell you? what if you pick wrong, and the memory of him is insulted without you meaning to?”.

perhaps isabeau considered, briefly, putting the ashes into an earring, but the idea feels too far intimate to do to someone that he never told his feelings to. even if siffrin did clearly have feelings for him, it doesn’t matter since isabeau never actually heard it. instead maybe he settles on a necklace, so he can still keep siffrin near his heart.

odile is functional with it. something small and easy to carry, something she won’t lose and can keep close. I think she considers turning them into a gem at some point after being annoyed with the stress of losing or accidentally scattering the ashes, and the thought brings her a wave of guilt. what right does she have to alter his wishes, just because he’s gone? it’s a conundrum for her, not knowing more about what they would have wanted, and having no way to learn more.

bonnie doesn’t want to lose siffrin, so they keep them at home in an urn where they can see them (set up by a window, because someone mentioned siffrin liked the night sky, and “maybe siffrin will wanna look outside sometimes”.) something about them saying hi to it each morning, perhaps working with petronille to put a shrine together (it takes ages to get it right), and sitting by it on a bad day, or ignoring the little section of their home dedicated to him when they’re mad at him (for dying, for sacrificing themself, for losing their eye, etc).

[eskumii]

yandere!incel!tomura shigaraki + foreigner!darling who can't speak japanese

TITLE: " RENT-A-GF " — navi.

NOTES: nsfw (18+ only) below the cut (non-con!! somnophilia!!) reminder: this is merely fantasy, i don't condone. will prob proofread someday lol. enjoy!

PAIRING: yandere!incel!shigaraki tomura x foreinger!reader

GENRE/AU: shigaraki is rlly misogynistic and delusional, age gap (you're older), reader is a substitute english teacher who got kidnapped by bwad gwuys and is now... yeah

CHARACTERS: shigaraki tomura (21), reader (24)

let's be for real: shigaraki was born to be an incel.

and incel!shigaraki is shamelessly self-aware of this, indeed. when he's not out terrorizing innocent citizens with his villainous coups, he takes to the internet to fulfill his insatiable need for an adrenaline rush. gorey video games and brutal death metal makes him light up in glee, but sometimes it's just not enough.

so, instead, he's a frequent on the dark web, diligently scouring sites that specialize in obscure female porn collectives that cater to his twisted kinks. incel!shigaraki glowers at the pictures of stupid, slutty women who prance around in sexy lingerie, but still gets a hard-on because he wishes he had a woman who would do that for him and him only.

and what shigaraki wants, he gets. on another sweaty night in his dark bedroom, he's boredly clicking through the hundreds of entries of women who are being sold for, what he thinks, too high of a price. not that money would ever be a problem for him; if he felt compelled to, he could just kidnap the girl he wanted all over again. so, no, it's not the price—it's what he thinks they're worth based on his attraction to them.

and, so far, all of them are worthless.

you see, the conundrum is that incel!shigaraki has a thing for foreign girls. don't ask why, he doesn't know. maybe he finds it cute that they're so clueless about his culture and language, and he's the one who'll control the narrative that rules their ignorance. maybe it's so cute how they wear their perpetual confusion on their face at all times, like a bratty kid who can't navigate the world without mommy or daddy by their side.

of course, though, women could hardly do anything on their own anyway. every time he came across one they'd wail and cry as he grabbed them by the hair and threatened to kill them if they didn't shut the hell up. they'd beg for their lives or scream for someone to save them, but it would only piss him off more at how useless and brainless they tended to be. he just couldn't help but decay them—they were so noisy and whiny, it wasn't his fault.

obviously, shigaraki has neither patience nor experience with women. in fact, he can probably count with two fingers how many times he's had a non-violent interaction with a woman in his entire lifetime. the mere thought of this drives his insecurities to the brink of rage, but it's not his fault women are so unbelievably tasteless in their choice of men. it's their fault he has to go to such lengths to find a decent woman worthy of his presence.

but imagine his delight when he happens upon a listing of you, an immediately attractive foreign woman who used to be an english substitute teacher of all things. he clicks through your pictures with a renewed vigor, his interest piqued as he studies your unique features. eagerly, he scours through your posted information and it turns out that you happen to be exactly the kind of woman he's looking for.

it's a done deal. the transaction takes less than a few minutes and incel!shigaraki couldn't be more pleased with how smoothly it went. he'll have to leave a good review later on, when and if the woman he's just bought has satisfied him.

it takes just one night before shigaraki finds you literally dropped off at his doorstep like an amazon prime package. you’ve clearly been pampered with the way you’re clad in a skimpy maid outfit; your nails, hair, and makeup are all dolled to perfection. you look exactly like you did in the pictures.

and clearly you're wise beyond your years. you don't speak much because of the obvious language barrier, but you do seem to understand a bit of elementary japanese. shigaraki is delighted by your small mutterings of broken japanese—it’s unbelievably cute. sometimes he'll force you to speak in japanese just because he loves watching you struggle with your limited vocabulary.

incel!shigaraki gets attached to you. you're very attractive in his eyes, and he's completely ecstatic that you're all his. a woman he can do whatever he wants with, and no one would dare question him. the immense power trip sends him over the edge.

that being said, the first couple of weeks are still rather... awkward. you're not happy about being in the situation you're in, but you're smart enough to keep that to yourself. you don't fuss when shigaraki orders you to fetch him liquor or tidy up his filthy room, nor do you complain when he commands you to cuddle with him or keep him company while he plays video games.

"[name], c'mere," he'd bark at you, eyes still glued to the tv screen.

"be a good girl and keep my lap warm, hm?"

he'll force you to wear cute lingerie sets like he's seen the women on porn sites do. somehow you look so much better though, and it feels as though you're teasing him with the way you bend over so much while cleaning. the outline of your pussy through the small fabric that stretches over it has him horny in a matter of seconds. you're such a tease, aren't you ashamed? you just can't seem to stay in line.

however, despite all your obvious sexual innuendos towards him, shigaraki gets no relief. he's resorted to jacking off whenever you go to sleep but no matter how hard or how much he cums, there's an itch that can't be scratched with masturbation alone. and the way you're so shy around him is adorable, sure, but your little playing-hard-to-get act wasn't cutting it anymore.

the remedy? incel!shigaraki starts slipping sleeping pills into your food and drinks.

and it doesn't take long for shigaraki to develop a routine of visiting you while you're sleeping. partly to check up on you and assure himself of your presence, but mostly to creep around the edges of the bed and feel you up. you sleep so soundly that you don't even twitch when he fondles your soft breasts or runs his spindly fingers over your curves.

he almost doesn't want to disturb you; you look so peaceful, totally different than the frightened little faces you muster when you're awake. but the bothersome tightness stretching his boxers taut against its stitches makes it hard to resist his urges. anyway, you're simply doing the only thing a woman is good for: using your body to please him.

his breath is hot and heavy, laced with lust and selfish perversion as he defiles you to get himself off. some nights he just sits and admires your beauty, caressing your face with clumsy, inexperienced fingertips. some nights your shirt is pulled up so he can marvel at how nicely your breasts sit in whatever color bra he forced you to wear.

other nights his cock is nestled between them, thrusting like his life depends on it, chasing that euphoric high he gets when he finally spills his seed across your hardening nipples. and other nights shigaraki is even more daring—cute pajama pants and panties below your knees, face buried between your thighs as he explores every inch of your sweet cunt. he knows it's wrong, but so what? he's a villian, that's what makes it feel so right.

when you make faces in your sleep, he's filled with so much genuine affection—it's almost as if you're telling him he's doing a good job. you love it, don't you? he so desperately wants to hear you cry his name in that precious accent of yours and run your hands through his hair as you lavish your praise upon him for making you cream so many times.

he can't keep his eyes off you. so soft and compliant. you're so pretty while he's stuffing his cock into you and relentlessly flicking your little clit, not stopping even when he feels you clench around him like a vice as you orgasm over and over. not stopping even though you're drooling all over the linen sheets and he's came twice already.

"that's right... y-you gonna cum again? you gonna—ngh—cum all over my cock, you dumb whore?"

shigaraki watches with glassy, intrigued eyes as you squirm ever so slightly, face warped into one of undeniable pleasure as he ravages your gushing pussy. you're such a good girl for him, letting him use you as he wishes.

you're the woman he's chosen to give his virginity to. he's so happy and content that when he cums inside of you for the third time, he doesn't pull out. instead, shigaraki gently maneuvers your body so he can spoon you from behind, whispering tender "i love you's" as if he knows what that means. absently grinding his hips because your warmth is so comforting around his sticky, softening dick.

as much as shigaraki wants to stay and pound you into the mattress all night, the sleeping medication doesn't last forever. not to mention the mess you've made; the sheets are completely ruined and your clothes are strewn about on the floor, long forgotten. it's hot in your room and it stinks of his cum and sweat, but it doesn't really matter. the only thing on his mind is you and how he'll ruin you again tomorrow night.

for now, though, he rewards you for being so good by cleaning you up, smirking whenever you unconsciously nuzzle up to his touch. when your clothes are back on, he plants a tender kiss on your forehead and admires your flushed face from the shadows of your bedside. when the sun begins to rise and you stir in your ignorance, he'll sneak out and act as if nothing ever happened.

incel!shigaraki who doesn't deny that you're just another stupid slutty woman, but you're the only woman he'll ever want to cum inside of. when he returns to his room, he remembers to pull up your archived listing on his computer and dazedly taps away at his keyboard.

"10/10 recommend"

[novashelby]

The Nanny Conundrum~A Tommy Shelby Smut

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Nanny!Reader (3rd person)

Warnings: Male masterbation, voyeurism. Meant to be kind of funny. A little cringe and embarrassing.

Prompt 93

Word Count: 2,791

Summary: Tommy Shelby just got a new nanny for Charlie. She's a sweet, delicate girl, but learns quite a thing or two about men while hiding for a game of hide n seek.

Please enjoy. I appreciate reblogs and comments. Likes are kind and thoughtful, and I appreciate you reading my work. However, reblogs really help writers out. So, please, considering rebloging.

Tommy was only delicate and proper with a select few people, and she was one of them, but he couldn’t help himself. Not even Satan himself could give her a rough handling. She was delicate looking, sounding, and acting. Like a daisy, really. And on top of it, she was so, so good with Charlie. Just two years old, losing his mother a few short months before. He was hesitant at first, not wanting to go through a whole hiring process. And so, he convinced Mary and Francis to take on the extra duty. Though, two aging women, their patience was waning. Enough was enough, Mr. Shelby was getting a nanny for the poor boy. 

It was difficult for Mr. Shelby to find employees as many were aware of his antics. There were a few applicants…none did anything for him. They were old. Had no energy with a sharp tongue. Mr. Shelby didn’t want anyone with a sharp tongue. Then there was a quiet time with weeks in between; no applicants had walked through the door. 

Until one day, someone did. It was a Sunday, too. Which got a work motivated man like himself excited. Mary had knocked on the door and he grumbled for her to enter. Behind her was a girl, not too tall and with a young face. He couldn’t make out her age, but her cheeks were round and blushed with youth. He noticed how when she smiled, her eyes would as well and she’d let out this delicate laugh. 

It was right then that he knew. Unlike the others, he immediately slid back his chair and stood, straightening his blue white lined vest. Mary was surprised at the soft smile that tugged at his usually stiff lips. His stress lines seemed to ease, but most of all he turned gentle. Mary watched aghast how he waltzed around his mahogany desk and rushed over to her. Never had he ever shook a woman’s hand as such; both hands gently holding her right. “I’m Mr. Shelby,” he said, and Mary couldn’t take anymore. She gave her employer a pursed look, brow raised, and he mouthed what. 

“I will take my leave, Mr. Shelby,” she said. “I must go to the kitchens and yell at the staff.” The young girl frowned a bit and turned to watch the woman leave. 

“Is she alright?” she asked, turning her attention back to the man who was still holding her hand. 

He was quick to nod and offer a smile. “Yes, yes! She’s fine. Don’t worry about her, eh? I think all women get a certain edge to them when they hit about seventy-”

“And men,” she giggled, putting a finger out. 

Kindly, he chuckled back. “I think we develop that a bit younger. Anyway! Come! Take a seat, eh?” He walked her over to the desk, hand resting politely on her mid-back. “So, are you looking for a nanny position?” They sat across from one another and she handed over CV paperclipped together. His eyes quickly scanned it, grinning. “Nanny program in London, worked for the same family for 2 years, twenty years old, born in Boston to English parents, and the second oldest of six children.” He put it down and pushed it over to her. “You understand this is a live in position, love?” Love. A red rosy tint fell on her face and she had to look away shyly. She could not lie. Of course, Mr. Shelby was a handsome man smooth with his words. “You’d be here Monday to Sunday. Of course, you will have free time and vacation time. Sundays off.” 

“The pay?” she asked. “A family in London has offered me six pounds.”

Six bloody fuckin’ pounds, Mr. Shelby thought to himself, a bit stunted. But nonetheless, he said, “I can offer ten, plus you’ll have a room, food, and free roam of the property. I’ll allow leave for all holidays, Sunday’s off, and early leave on Wednesdays. You’ll be allowed three sick days a calendar year-”

“I can start today,” she said, abruptly, far too eager to work for him. The benefits were like nothing she’d even been offered. He paused, smile dropping a bit, not used to people being so…interested. She coughed a bit and fixed herself in the chair. “Sorry,” she said, clearing her throat. “I can start today. If you would have me, of course.”

He nodded, “not today. Tomorrow. You’ll start tomorrow.” 

Everyone liked her. She was like a breath of fresh air. A positive influence on everyone. Francis and Mary seemed more at ease and talked with less grouch. The kitchen danced when she waltzed in. The other maids enjoyed how she was incredibly courteous of the messes Charlie would make. Even John and Arthur started to look forward to coming to Arrow house. Despite their miserable to be around brother who did nothing, but demand this and that from them. 

And Mr. Shelby, well...he found himself smiling a tad more when he saw her with Charlie. 

She was a wonderful nanny. On top of the normal tasks, she actually played with Charlie and helped with his coloring and motor tasks. She’d sing to him and dance with him. And unlike most girls her age, she wasn’t opposed to rolling around in the grass with him. They’d sleep in the grass and dance in the rain with their shoes off. Charlie was in love with her! Mr. Shelby would watch from the window, feeling this pool of warmth within him when they’d run around in circles. 

“Ah, look at her,” Francis sighed, putting the tea tray on his desk. “Her frocks are always stained with grass.” 

Mr. Shelby flicked closed the blinds and sat at his desk, making up his tea with just a tad of sugar and milk. He enjoyed some honey as well those days. “It’ll rain soon, suppose they’ll come inside. She’s been reading to him a lot.” 

Francis smiled. “Very good. Will you be heading to the stables? Should I prepare-”

“No, no,” he said. “I’m just going to enjoy my cuppa, eh? And you should take a rest.” A rest. That was also something new. Mr. Shelby was allowing staff to have much more rest since she came. 

He finished his tea and went off to the stables when the two were coming in from their adventures from outside. After clean up time and a book, Charlie was still restless, wanting to run around and play. She pouted and poked his nose, “Charlie, I got a game for you!” His eyes widened and he giggled in excitement. She leaned in as if it was something special. “HIde n’ seek! I will hide. Okay? Has Charlie remembered his numbers?”

“One…two..three..eight…four…six…nine…five,” he counted off and she chuckled, telling him it was just fine enough. She picked him up and placed him facing the wall, explaining that he had to count to ten slowly and not move.

“I will hide somewhere, Charlie, on the first floor, okay?” she smiled, ruffling his hair before skipping out. She giggled as she heard his cute counting before opening and closing each door, unsure of where to hide before he stopped counting. She slipped into Mr. Shelby’s office, not seeing the harm when he wasn’t around. Under the desk, she crammed herself in a ball and waited. 

She heard Charlie call for her in a laugh, running around the hallway. She could tell that he checked the bathroom first then her room before going back to his room. She waited and waited before the office door opened, and she grinned, getting ready to say you win! When Mr. Shelby coughed. Wincing, she wondered if she should climb out and explain that they were playing hide and seek or wait for him to leave, but to her annoyance, he took a seat at his desk. At first, he fumbled around with some papers before cursing under his breath, seeming frustrated. She was sucking in her lips to hold back any loud breathing. But what he did next was…shocking. There were no other words to explain it. Shocking. To her, at least. A young twenty year old girl who surprisingly lived a very modest and conservative life. Never had she even held hands with a boy, nevermind witness what she was about to witness. His hands went to his belt clasp and fumbled with the golden hoop before easily undoing his trousers. Peeking out was a pair of men’s white underwear. Maybe he’s just getting comfortable, she told herself, but was quickly proven wrong when he let out a soft groan and slipped under the waistband of his underwear. She watched, frozen. He rubbed himself a bit under his underwear, grinding his hips up at his hand. Soft groans and eager curses filled the room in a hushed manner. As if he was ashamed of doing such a thing in his own home. It was all new to her, and she watched equally horrified and curious while kicking herself for being so stupid. A million hiding spots and she chose the very one he had to wank in. Peculiarly, a small wet spot formed where the tip was. Stupidly, she wanted to just reach up and touch it, but the thought lodged to the back of her head when he pulled it out. There was nothing she could compare it to, being the first cock she’d ever seen. But her cunt ached in an almost fear-like response seeing the shape and length. The tip was glistening with a sticky substance that he didn’t hesitate rubbing his thumb against. “Fuck,” he let out, leaning back slightly. Between his thumb and index, he rubbed it before giving his cock three good tugs. How it dripped out in a long string before pooling a little tiny dot onto the floor next to her. Swallowing, she looked down at it…just a little dab. A droplet. For a split second, she considered touching it. Mimicking how he rolled it between his fingers just to see what it felt like. But she couldn’t do it. It felt grotesque…dirty. Sinister? That’s when she heard him spit on his hand, drawing her attention from the precum and back to his twitching cock. His spit ran down the shaft, wetting the chair.

“Oh, fuck,” he grunted, his hand wrapping around himself, twisting around. He moved slowly up and down, teasing the sensation. It’d been such a long time since he last rubbed one out. Though loving a good fuck, self pleasure was never something he needed to ease an urge. But he felt it that day. His cock consistently throbbed at the seams of his trousers. Not even a smoke and a drink calmed him. And so, he resorted to a good old school wank. Admittedly, it was quite nice. Alone in his element, just feeling himself. “Shit.” His started to roll upward, fucking his hand. 

Alone…except for the sweet nanny under his desk, trapped in quite a predicament she wasn’t quite sure she liked. His hand started to move a bit faster with a better rhythm. He was flowing a stream of grunts, curses, groans, moans, and inaudible sentences. “Baby,” he cried, head rolled back, eyes closed. “Fuck me, c’mon-shit!” He hummed, running a hand over his face. She swallowed and panicked that maybe he knew she was there. Did he? Who was he talking to? But she didn’t move. She hardly even breathed scared he’d hear her. “Mmmmhm.” Pausing, he spit on his hand again before rubbing it all over. Just as he resumed his speed, he said something she could hardly believe. Her name. Followed by a, “just like that…good fuckin’ girl.” In shock, her eyes widened and her hands instantly covered her mouth. “Bounce up and down, right on my cock. Ride my fuckin’ cock!” His breaths became jagged while his hips twitched and jolted. He was close…so fucking close. 

Meanwhile, the poor girl tried to block it out. But how could she? So close to a man jerking his cock, calling her name. Her fucking name? Imagining her bouncing on it. She couldn’t help, but wonder if this was his first time thinking of her like this. She hated to admit it, but her thighs were struggling to stay still. So, so tempted to rub them together to ease a surprise heat growing between her legs. “That’s good, baby, keep doing that….Ugh! Fuck!” He paused, edging himself. She noticed when he stopped, his hands clenched around it harder, shaking. Then he slowly went back to tugging and rubbing, easing back into the lost rhythm. “I bet you are so fuckin’ tight.” One hand slowly went between her legs to cup her aching pussy as she suppressed a whine. “Fuck, I want to corrupt that little fuckin’ cunt….Make you into a dirty little fuckin’ slut. My dirty slut…fuck!” He jolted upward, other hand gripping a chair arm before easing back into speed. 

Make you into a dirty little fuckin’ slut. My dirty slut. Those words imprinted themselves in her head. His words were disgusting, filthy, and humiliating, but so fucking erotic. His possessiveness was like honey. It took so much effort to not ease her curiosities and reach her hand up to touch his cock. So, she had to just watch. Watching was so hot, but so torturous. When he started to get sloppy with his movements, she prepared for him to stop again, but he didn’t. “F-fuck!” He cried out, tugging one last time before a stream of white came from his cock. She was expecting it to be like the sticky clear mess, but no, his cum shot.

In fact, it shot at her…on her face. Frozen, feeling the warmth that landed over her eyelids and dripped down her face and over her lips. Appalled and embarrassed, how was she going to face him after that? With his excrement painting her face. He let out one last, “fuck,” before tiredly tucking himself away and buckling his belt. He took the handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his hands. Sliding back in his chair and standing, she was sure that he was going to leave, but no. He kneeled down to clean up wherever the cum landed, coming face to face with her…wearing it.

Never had he ever been so mortified, looking at the girl who seemed as if she saw death. His cum was right there…teasing at her lips. His nanny….Had she watched the whole thing? Heard every word? Of course. She had to. He swallowed, and said, “Um…this isn’t a great napping spot-”

“Mr. Shelby,” she stuttered out, tongue darting out almost instinctively, accidentally swiping the cum off. She winced as it tasted salty. His eyes flickered down to her quivering lips, widening. There was a bit of silence before she continued. “I was playing hide n seek-”

“In my office?” he asked, not exactly mad. More stunned and quiet than anything. He felt as if he was a young man again, ashamed of rubbing one out. 

“I’m competitive. I didn’t think he’d look in here,” she responded with the same tone. He nodded slowly, reaching out to clean her face, but she took the rag and did it herself before going to hand it back. 

“Keep it,” he said, slowly standing and grabbing for his whiskey. He didn’t even bother pouring it in a glass as he swigged it from the bottle. She crawled out from under the desk watching him gulp it like water. “Fuckin’ ‘ell,” he cursed, putting it down and turning to her. “Did you-”

“Yes,” she said before he could finish the quest. Nervously, she averted her attention off to the side, playing with her dress. His eyes skimmed over her, heart rate through the roof. His head was swarming with a whole bunch of conflictions. “Should I pack my things?” Mr. Shelby licked at his bottom lip and itched the arch of his nose. “Um…well, I think it is alright. You’re not the first woman to look at it. Probably not the last unless I drop dead right now…which is fuckin’ possible.” She bowed and tried to slowly back away when he looked over at her. “C’mere. I’m not done with you. As much as I’d like to jump out this fuckin’ window, you’re still my employee and you were in my office without permission. Why don’t you take a seat-no, no. Right here.” She nervously looked at where his hand was pointing. It was the desk. “C’mere,” he patted. “Sit on the desk like a good girl.” The words played back in her head and she did so…like a fuckin’ good girl.

[tteokdoroki]

*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— playing defence + yoichi isagi.

૮˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶ა synopsis — you bitch slap kaiser for talking smack about your boyfriend. perhaps isagi is rubbing off on you.

⭑ warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up to 20s, crack, fluff, suggestive towards the end, violence, smack talk, mentions of injury, mentions of blood, established relationship, pro player!isagi, fem!reader - not beta read !

⭑ words — 2.2K.

⭑ notes — greetings all! isagi brain rot is so real rn, i swear i have like six wips for him... anyways this was a silly little idea that popped into my head lmao kinda cringe but i had fun with it !! enjoy ! - m.list ✩

your boyfriend is somewhat of a conundrum.

the world knows yoichi isagi as the ruthless heart of blue lock’s success. a man that’s unrelenting on the field with his strategic mind and frightening air of dominance poured into his every play. every movement he makes is calculated meticulously, the greed for a goal simmering in his blood. isagi as a pro player is foul mouthed and messy — taunting his opponent until they crumble into nothing but dust before his very eyes.

the media thinks he’s cocky, but rightfully so. after all yoichi isagi is the catalyst for a new generation of japanese soccer. the girls love him, he’s charming in interviews without meaning to be — they like how he talks about you. as if you’re a gem that’s worth millions. precious.

the isagi that you know has a tender touch and his soul warm, he wears his heart right on his sleeve and never lets you go a moment without knowing you’re appreciated. the isagi that you know is encouraging, he’s always on your side. if he needs to, he’ll sweet talk you with honey glazed words and kiss you until your thoughts fizzle out into stardust.

isagi is good.

he’s good to his friends, his teammates, his parents — he’s almost too good to be true. as if he’s been peeled from the pages of a shoujo romance manga or ripped from the silver screen of a perfect Hollywood romcom. a literal walking green flag. you’d say that you were lucky to have him, and yoichi would spin it on you — using strings of sweet words to express just how deep and profound his love is for you, praising you just enough to melt you into a love sick puddle of goo. and he’d mean it, sincerity swirling in his whirlpooling blue eyes. he swears by it.

so when someone pisses your isagi off, when they hurt him — you can’t help but lose your shit.

it happens during a practise match with a few of the players that joined during the neo-egoist league. although it’s been years since then and the blue lock project has become a formidable team, it keeps the boys on their feet to play with those with other worldly styles of soccer. the match had been going well, isagi trailblazing across the pitch and leaving nothing but a trail of destruction and despair behind — you were proud of him, amazed by him and the talents he possesses. to see him in his element makes your heart swell.

you don’t know kaiser very well — just that he’s super big and plays for the german team that gave isagi his leg up in the soccer world. you’ve heard from others about how much of a dick he could be and the intense rivalry he had with your boyfriend back when the blue lock project first started. you don’t know kaiser well but that information alone was enough to get your back up whenever he was in close range of yoichi.

and rightfully so. because you see the way he prods and pokes at the beautiful, sensitive parts of your lover as they race across to the penalty area. you notice how it rattles isagi, gets him all up in his head. you hear kaiser say something along the lines of:

“what’s with your shitty plays, yoichi? surely if you’re the heart of blue lock then the future of soccer is bound to be doomed.” he skirts around your boyfriend, intercepting a pass he was meant to receive from nagi. “pathetic, to see how much this star has fallen. i should crush you.”

you’ve heard all the insults the blue lock boys throw at each other before but this is nothing like usual. rin itoshi has said much worse to isagi right in front of your face (and isagi right back, foul mouthed motherfucker) but you know that’s a defence mechanism to how rin truly thinks and feels.

michael kaiser is just an asshole, plain and simple.

and that kind of behaviour doesn’t fly with you when it comes to yoichi.

you storm onto the pitch from the sidelines before your mind can even catch up to your body. the other players working around your boyfriend and his rival stop their movements as you stroll past them, snapped out of their egoist state by the referee whistle that calls for you to stop.

“m-ma’am! you can’t be on the pitch!”

you walk right past ness, weave between kurona, bachira and hiori, and right up to the blonde haired perpetrator himself. you’re polite about it too, tapping him on the shoulder to interrupt the narcissistic monologue he’s giving to isagi and showing him your sweetest, kindest smile.

there’s a split second before the blunt force of your fist collides with michael kaiser’s cheek and he’s knocked to the ground from the weight of it.

“you better watch who the fuck you’re talking to, you clownish freak.”

“babe?” isagi jumps into action despite his shock and the sniggers from other players on the field. he wraps his strong arms around your middle and tugs you into his chest with a winded laugh. “precious, what are you doing here?”

“he can’t talk to you like that!”

“but baby, you can’t be here—“

“this isn’t good.” bachira sings from a safe distance.

“fuck! what the actual fuck?” kaiser swears, using the sleeve of his jersey to wipe the blood from his bruising nose. “who’s crazy groupie is this?”

another wave of anger crashes through your veins, your blood at its boiling point as his words register within you. “excuse me?” isagi snarls, clearly unimpressed, loosening his hold on you while you struggle against your boyfriend’s lean frame.

“so what? you get your girlfriend to play defence for you and then act like i’m in the wrong? i said, get this groupie away from me—!”

before anyone on the pitch can realise, you’re free from isagi’s hold and you’re on kaiser like white on rice — fisting his sweatshirt between the same pretty fingers that treat isagi like he’ll break with too much force. “you wanna say that again, shitstain?” you run your tongue over your teeth, the menacing glint to your eye making you look like you’re a predator about to hunt down her prey. the blonde shakes underneath you as you pin him to the grass — an insult rolling around on his tongue. “i wouldn’t waste my words. you should just lay down and die before you take another sucker punch from this groupie.”

“do you have any idea how much this face is worth? i should—“

“gimme a break michael kaiser,” to your left you can hear bachira chanting something about ‘no violence’, bouncing around excitedly and a wicked grin tugs on the corner of your lips. “you’re not worth shit to me. so keep fucking around and find out, pretty boy. you talk smack about yoichi again and i swear your face won’t be the only goods i damage.”

“jeez, you’re just as crazy as that wanna be protagonist over there—“ is all he can muster before he flinches back from your fists that raise a over your head.

isagi moves quicker this time, scooping you up from underneath your armpits despite how you huff, puff and protest. “alright, alright, you’re done here. let’s go, princess.” he says sheepishly. maybe he’s been rubbing off on you a little too much.

his comforting touch slides down to your hand, grabbing at it to drag you off the pitch for the sake of kaiser’s safety, keeping everyone else out of harms way. and isagi just about gets you off the green before you set your sights on your next victim — ness, who can’t help but make faces at you as you trudge after your boyfriend.

drawing a line over your throat with your thumb, you make direct eye contact with him. “you’re next, shitty little meat-rider—! ow! ‘ichi!” you bark, but isagi quickly scoops you up again like a cat holding her kitten by the nape.

you have no choice but to back down for now.

“yanno, you really didn’t have to do that.”

isagi let’s you go once you’re back in the locker rooms to check on your hand. he crouches before you (where you sit just a level above him on the metal bench), holding an ice pack to your knuckles with the trace of a smile on his lips, only lifting it to see if the swelling has gone down. isagi reads you like an open book, he’s got you all figured out so he leaves you with the space to react and have your little tantrums.

besides, it’s cute that you get so pissed off when it comes to him. watching your nose scrunch up and your lips twist into a pout while you fight your own outburst just makes his heart beat for you a little faster.

“oh i fucking did! he was being so horrible to you and i couldn’t just let it slide!” you huff as your temper flares, shoulders sagging and arms crossing over your chest. he says nothing for a moment and lifts the compress from your hand to check the damage.

“look at you, precious girl. you’ve only gone and hurt yourself,” even when you’re throwing a fit like this, yoichi can only see the beauty in you — his cheeks flushing at how much you care for him. the dark haired striker flips through a first aid kit that rests at your feet, looking for disinfectant to clean up your split knuckles. “and, as for kaiser… well, he’s always like that.”

“well, i don’t like kaiser. i hope a bird shits on his head and both sides of his pillows are warm.”

“bird shit is supposed to be a sign of good luck, baby.”

“don’t test me yoichi isagi.”

he dabs at your wounds with a cotton pad and a brownish liquid that smells like the dettol your mom would keep in the cabinet under the kitchen sink for when you got yourself into similar situations like this as a kid. but instead of scolding you like she would, yoichi tends to your cuts and scrapes either upmost care. still smiling to himself. smiling at you. resisting the urge to burst with affection.

“you’re gonna have to apologise, precious.” he mutters absentmindedly, wincing when you do.

“i-i’m not going to, he deserved it!” that much is true, kaiser is clown who needs to be put in his place but it shouldn’t have been by you and at the expensive of your precious hands getting hurt.

you’re in more pain than you’re willing to show, and it bothers isagi just a little bit that you’re experiencing it because of him.

“well he did, but ego won’t be happy.”

“did ego make you apologise for all those times you beat the crap out of your teammates for even looking at me? for stealing your goals?” you roll your eyes, leaning away from your doting boyfriend in protest.

isagi grabs at your wrist firmly, tugging you back into place so he can start wrapping your hand up — ignoring the way his face and the tips of his ears start to burn up in embarrassment. “well no… but that’s different. friendly competition.”

“hardly! may i remind you that shidou literally couldn’t walk for a week straight after he commented on my ass? because of you?”

“i was defending your honour! and keep still!”

you give isagi a pointed look. hypocrite. “okay, but what about when rin said you couldn’t fuck for the life of you and then you proved your point. using me. in front of him. was that about honour or about your ego? mister egoist.” isagi’s big blue eyes instantly shoot up to meet yours and blushes a crimson that could rival the shade of the older itoshi brother’s hair. “itoshi couldn’t look at me for weeks!”

“point taken.” knowing that he won’t win this argument (if you could even call it that), isagi finishes up with bandaging your hand and takes a seat next to you, a comfortable silence settling over you both while he attempts to piece together why you love him this much. to play knight in shining armour to his damsel in distress.

“are you…really going to make me apologise yoichi?” you ask him sheepishly after some time, leaning into him for comfort.

“not if you don’t want to, precious.” he hums, fondly brushing a thumb over the back of your bandaged hand. a silent thank you. a hidden i love you.

“good,” you whine now that all of your adrenaline’s worn off and you can really feel the consequences of punching a world class striker in the face. “now kiss my knuckles. they hurt.” holding up your hand to isagi’s face, you shake it as if to rid yourself of the painful ebb to it.

“better?” isagi complies, his lips soft against your skin.

“much.”

“so spoilt,” he adds. your boyfriend’s voice stays low while he plays with your bruised fingers and checks them over, resting his head against your own affectionately. “next time you throw a punch in my name, tuck your thumb into your fist to minimise the damage. i don’t like seeing you get hurt.”

“so you did like seeing me punch kaiser.” you giggle, squirming when isagi drops your hand to pull you into his lap possessively. his loving grin spreads even further when your eyes widen at a certain…hardness poking your inner thigh.

“oh yeah, super hot. i love it when you get mad ‘n start talking shit for me.”

isagi doesn’t make it back to practice, too caught up in showing you just how much he loves it when you start fights over him.

[occamstfs]

Masterpost !

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Wouldn't It Be Funny? ● Coast Guard Compensation ● Anchors Aweigh ● Jonny Get Your Gun ● AL:IV Everycop

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Tenor Troubles ● Beary Blast ● More Of A Man ● The Old Candy Shoppe ● Look Your Age ● Green Eyes Of Envy ● In The Rink: Dunks ● Slice Of Italy

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Ain’t No Place For A City Boy ● Country Charm ● Beau Of The Ball ● Halloween Bacchanal

Role Swap

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Tarot: The Knight of Swords ● Daddy: How To Be A Father ● Straight to Gay: Diet Diaries ● Twunkification: To The Ground Floor ● Voice Change: Tenor Troubles ● Temp E-Boy: Influencing Goes Both Ways ● Surfer: Shaka-Screen ● Biker: Helmet Left Behind ● Devolution: Pre-Homo Sapience ● Corporate Stepfordization: A Paragon Man ● Satyr and Knight: Halloween Bacchanal

[zepskies]

The Boys S4: Is it just me or...

Okay, anyone who knows me knows I love this show. And I don't mean to be overly critical, but...there's something missing for me in season 4. 🤔

Episode 4 brought me back in a bit more this week, but I have thoughts and just wanted to get them out. Which of course you don't have to agree with, if you so choose to dive below the cut. 😂

So here we go! Highlights and lowlights (and **spoilers**): ⤵️

Sorry in advance for my slightly stream of conscious-style thought process.

Lowlights (so far):

Kimiko x Frenchie: Violently pushing down something you built up for 2.75 seasons? Because "being more than that/family" can also be romantic? Why do you hate the fans, Kripke? 😂

The political "satire" is getting a bit old for me. A lot of the same jokes over and over. However, the problem of taking out Victoria Neuman is a very intriguing conundrum (and Bob Singer sweating over it while trying to keep supes out of the military/law enforcement is keeping me hooked).

THAT Rob scene: lmfao come on now. This was for gross shock value and nothing else. Even the exploding dick and Love Sausage in S3 served a narrative purpose. (But I enjoyed the footnote commentary while watching it on Prime: Rob B. apparently wants to remind everyone that he's a Shakespearean-trained actor. 🤣) I’m actually more disappointed that he didn’t have a more meaningful role in the show, because he really is a fantastic actor and I was looking forward to seeing what his character would bring. (Not that lmao.)

Overall, the season just feels...emptier than seasons 1-3? Maybe that has to do with the lack of Soldier Boy's gravitas as a new antagonist, and connecting the entire narrative and various conflicts of the season -- all while shedding light on the grisly past of Payback, Grace Mallory, and Stan Edgar. Stormfront also brought that ante up in season 2 in a similar way, all while shedding light on Vought's sordid history with the creation of Compound V.

We're missing the layers here in season 4. Now, this could just be because we haven't seen the full season yet as well, but that's what I see so far.

I think it also has to do with the odd dynamic the boys side is in right now. With Butcher on the fringe of the group, and the others splintered off on their own side plots, it feels like the supes' side of things are more...for lack of a better term, "unified" in the narrative.

Which I realize is probably to reverse parallel the state of each side in season 3. But it just feels "off" to me somehow, since we're supposed to be just as invested in the boys side lol.

Highlights:

Butcher and Ryan: Butcher's doing his best there now, and it soothes my heart.

Ryan's slowly seeing the consequences of his choice to join Homelander. In fact, I'm wondering where Ryan is in episode 4. Hiding in his room?

The Khan Worm that appears to be inside Butcher is both frightening and intriguing. I wonder if this is the key to saving his life? Or just another lovely side effect of taking V24 long term. 🐛

JDM (Joe) and Butcher: All their scenes were golden. And that subtle John Winchester reference? Being willing to train up his son to be a killer? Being able to grieve at his son's funeral, knowing he "saved the world?" *Chef's kiss* 🤌🏽

(And if Butcher or Joe end up being the one to break Soldier Boy out of his cryo coffin, my fangirl heart will freak TF out. 🤣)

The way that Homelander is noticing his age is fucking hilarious. Bet you wish you had that life longevity from your father/sperm donor, dont'cha? 😂

But also the way Homelander "confronted" his past in E4 had some truly WTF/Holy Shit™️ moments, in a good way. As in, I'm once again afraid of this unhinged psychopath--kind of way. 😅

A-Train continuing to struggle internally with the place he's fought so hard to keep in the Seven, versus recognizing the evil around him, his own complicity, wanting forgiveness from Hughie, and wanting a true connection with others (namely his family).

It's interesting that Hughie's mom is being brought back in at this time. And even MORE interesting that she seems to be the one who gave her ex-husband Compound V. Her story of why she left her family seemed so normal that I actually got a little suspicious of her. But now, even more so. 🤨

M.M. doing his fucking best. (Except for the way he suddenly had a change of heart about Butcher in E4. Not sure about that one.)

Tilda effing Swinton voicing Ambrosius. PLEASE. My Queen. 😭🤣🤣

I actually had more lowlights before I watched episode 4. There were some really interesting moments that literally had me gasping in shock (this time in a good way), more so than in the first 3 episodes. However, I still think seasons 1-3 were stronger from the get-go.

But even with my lingering reservations, now I'm actually more so looking forward to getting into the meat of the season in this second-half coming up. 👏🏽

[illarian-rambling]

Aw balls. I almost forgot an intro

Hi, I'm Katie! I'm a writer with two ongoing wips that I like yammering about, so ima do it here!

Pronouns: she/her

Age: 20

Other interests: art, dnd, the Magnus Archives, anything Cosmere related, martial arts, Critical Roll

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My wips are set in the same universe, on the planet of Illaros, fifth from the last star left living in the universe. There's a continent, some islands, and other assorted junk down there. The gods have a dyson ring, but they don't like to talk about it. The stars are the eyes of an ancient primordial force of destruction.

Honor's Outcasts follows a rag-tag group of delinquents trying to survive psycho pirates with family ties, a siren theocracy, magic that rots in your blood, and the Horrors. Their number includes such mighty heros as: a kid who can explode people with her mind, a buff shark lady who survives regular eldritch encounters by not paying attention, a mute aroace siren man with a bitchy attitude, and the world's sweetest gang mamber. Of course, they're one big family, and what's family without a little religious terrorism?

The Mystery of the Mortal God asks what happens when magic and science collide in a world where ethics panels haven't been established yet. Set a few decades down the line from HO, this story follows a cowboy witch with a chip on her shoulder as she discovers a mysterious robot laying broken and confused on the side of the road. At the same time, in a city on the other side of the globe, a blue blooded detective investigates a cold case suddenly gone hot. In time, all players will meet, including the mage who set this whole conundrum in motion.

The Final Voyage of the R.S. Starbreaker is sci-fi with ghosts! More accurately, as the magical societies of Illaros take their first steps into space, they don't use unmanned probes, but instead call upon the gods to send ghosts to be bound to a mighty runic galleon: the R.S. Starbreaker. This first skeleton crew consists of an honorable former Flying City pilot with a seedy past, a brash elven astronomer infamous for her incomplete work, a meticulous selkie cartographer determined to map the solar wheel, a laid-back fae man with a dangerous set of ideals, and the key to this mission's success: a former part of an eldritch hive mind on a hunt for his extinct people's missing afterlife.

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Anyways, if you're here, feel free to say hi! I'll mostly be posting whatever bullshit comes to mind, but maybe you'll get lucky and something entertaining will come out? I certainly hope so!

Have a bitchin' day <3

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An addition! Here are my characters' playlists! (And intros for those who have them) (All instrumental because I can't write while listening to vocals)

Izjik Meautammera +intro

Sepo Kaiacynthus +intro

Twenari Devaris +intro

Djek Kagura +intro

Daedryn Whitenight

Astra DuClaire +intro

Mashal Darezsho +intro

Ivander Montane +intro

Elsind Cavernsight +intro

Avymere Spearsong +intro

Ghost Ship Radio + wip intro (for the Starbreaker crew)

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A second addition! Please feel welcome to check out my new Illaros library! These are short stories written (mostly) in my setting that I've shared before on here, but I figured I'd put all the links in one place :)

Down in the Deep Dark - 2,500 words - The tale of how Izjik and Sepo met

Violating the 4th - 11,000 words - Coverage of the first Surgeon case from the POV of Ceyrel (Ivander’s detective partner)

Rel's Haunting - 16,000 words - A story of a fallen angel, the dead god who made them, and finding wonder in the supermarket

Full Saturation - 2,000 words - A short horror story set on modern Earth about saturation diving and places better left untouched

And for some one-shots:

Mashal and Ivander hanging out

Izjik making Sepo a flute in the Trench

The cast of Mortal God gets a beach episode

Mashal teaches Astra to ride a horse

Again, have a bitchin' day <3