#you can't replicate that. you just cannot

[darkwood-sleddog]

i really gotta wonder what goes through the heads of people that are adopt don't shop EXCEPT when it comes to service dogs. as if this somehow makes them noble? as if service dog users are the only people in the world that deserve dogs with stable temperaments or dogs that are bred with thought towards their health and structure? it's a really bizarre way of thinking that really, to me, harkens to the ARAs that are anti sled dogs until it's somebody doing it for fun only or until you mention indigenous people. are you so afraid of looking ignorant for your ill held beliefs? is challenging your currently held beliefs about what's 'morally right' for dogs that uncomfortable?

there are so many other jobs that dogs currently DO for us that require balanced, stable, healthy, purposeful dogs (including companionship!) and on top of all this dogs deserve to exist with thought and care put towards their existence. Dogs do not deserve to only exist if they're random happenstances from backroad strays or somebody's ill conceived backyard litter with zero health testing. dogs deserve responsible breeding just as much as humans deserve to have dogs with responsible breeding. how is this remotely hard to grasp?

[leidensygdom]

Please be aware that the "opt-out" choice is just a way to try to appease people. But Tumblr has not been transparent about when has data been sold and shared with AI companies, and there are sources that confirm that data has already been shared before the toggle was even provided to users.

Also, it seems to include data they should not have been able to give under any circumstance, including that of deactivated blogs, private messages and conversations, stuff from private blogs, and so on.

Do not believe that "AI companies will honor the "opt-out request retroactively". Once they've got their hands on your data (and they have), they won't be "honoring" an opt-out option retroactively. There is no way to confirm or deny what data do they have: The fact they are completely opaque on what do they currently "own" and have, means that they can do whatever they want with it. How can you prove they have your data if they don't give everyone free access to see what they've stolen already?

So, yeah, opt out of data sharing, but be aware that this isn't stopping anyone from taking your data. They already have been taking it, before you were given that option. Go and go to Tumblr's Suppport and leave your Feedback on this (politely, but firmly- not everyone in the company is responsible for this.)

Finally: Opt out is not good under any circumstance. Deactivated people can't opt out. People who have lost their passwords can't opt out. People who can't access internet or computers can't opt out. People who had their content reposted can't opt out. Dead people can't opt out. When DeviantArt released their AI image generator, saying that it wasn't trained on people who didn't consent to it, it was proven it could easily replicate the styles of people who had passed away, as seen here. So, yeah. AI companies cannot be trusted to have any sort of respect for people's data and content, because this entire thing is just a data laundering scheme.

Please do reblog for awareness.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

billion's inadvertent understanding like Scapegoat Time with winston where when he's around (and not simply being used straightforward plot device style) he's the punching bag, but when they send him off like "you can't quit / leave b/c you're fired / banished" suddenly it's Scapegoat Time: Sacrificial Kill Ritual with the reveling in abuse along the way to applaud the show created by that & applaud who's doing it. b/c it's not literal scapegoating it's the kind you do to people when the group cohesion requires destructive conflict & it gets focused on someone who might already be extra vulnerable / perhaps a perceptive truth teller about things, like oh You're Ruining It. oh and also the fact that the scapegoat sacrifice of winston means the permanent dissolution of tmc is made so No Big Deal that we don't really have to comment on it again. transferred that destruction onto him / now it's just two people who aren't allowed to punch down on each other in the way they were re: winston & so you definitely can't have a Fund anymore out of that dynamic (even if the Idea of someone is still scapegoated, we'd need to assign the role to someone else still present to be a punching bag too vs something you just take swings Towards....see rian getting several moments punching down on the next most vulnerable party still present, tuk, but the [group] that was tmc just quietly evaporates as a relevant concept once winston is effectively banished/killed)

[applejarjar]

My Boss: you're taking too long to do things, if you run into issues tell me immediately

Me: ok, will do

My Boss: so how are things going, did you make progress on the thing?

Me: I'm having issues, the only way I can get it to work is if I do X

Boss: we can't do X anymore

Me: well in that case I cannot do the thing and need help

Boss: how about you mess with the thing some more until it works and then come back to me

Me *internally*: I just told you I cannot do the thing no matter what I try but you want me to continue to screw around with it and then come back to you later to cry for help when I've already made it clear that I'm incapable of completing the task without assistance and need help now >:[

Me *externally*: ok, I will keep working on it

[dark-moonlust]

Bound by the Rose Mark

This commission is owned by Kate Hart. As the original writer, I strictly forbid any form of reproduction, replication, or translation of my stories without my explicit consent.

Pairing: beast oc (Alaric) x f!reader

Summary: This is a story with Beauty and the Beast vibes. You live in a grand castle with a beast named Alaric. One day, you accidentally touch him and a glowing rose tattoo appears on your skin. Alaric explains that the tattoo is a sign of a curse that binds the two of you together. You can't get more than a few steps away from him without feeling pain and arousal. Forced to stay close, you both succumb to your feelings and the deep connection between you.

Warnings: 18+, mid-eighteenth century story, true love curse, beauty and the beast vibes, magic tattoo bonding, virgin reader, oral (fem receiving), foreplay and stimulation, p in v sex, big 🍆, belly bulge, knotting, lots of 💦.

I completely forgot to post this commission! Enjoy!!

Château d'Azay-le-Rideau, France - 1750

“Make it stop!” you groaned, wide eyes on the Beast, who stood calmly by the fire, his large, furred form casting long shadows over the walls. “Please, just… make it stop!”

“I cannot do that.” Came his voice, steady and infuriatingly husky.

The moonlight shone through the castle's grand windows, pouring glittering beams across your body as you paced back and forth, the tap of your boots echoing on the sleek floor. Your fingers moved nervously against the mark on your wrist, the delicate rose pattern twisting and developing, shimmering softly against your skin. With each passing second, the flower vines extended further up your arm, emitting a sweet warmth.

It all began a year ago with a professional agreement. The Beast was Lord of the Castle and needed someone to govern it. You were that person. You lived in his huge fortress and worked as his chamberlain. But what began as a rigid work agreement quickly turned into closeness. 

In the past months, you’d grown used to his company, you were after all, alone in a huge castle with no one but a few servants to talk. He’d gifted you his enormous library, a beautiful haven of literature. He also spent time with you every day, taking you on walks to the gardens, organizing big dinners, music nights, and theatrical nights. You’d been foolish to allow yourself to get comfortable, to hover close enough and be tempted to touch him.

But his fur had appeared so silky and inviting. What was one touch?

You'd succumbed to the temptation and touched him, curved your small palm over his massive arm. 

A moment later, all order unraveled. 

A weird tingling sensation had begun to emerge from your wrist, and as you looked down, a red rose began to light softly, its delicate petals winding up your wrist, its thorny vines snaking out, tracing your skin with intricate detail. The tattoo was enchanted and even now— it continued to spread on your arm.

Oh, how foolish and naive you had been! To approach him so carelessly, hovering so close that his mere presence seemed to draw you in. It was foolish to give in to your curiosity, reaching out to touch him despite the warnings. And now, this—this thing—was strangely connecting you to him in ways you couldn't fathom.

The Beast—no, Alaric, as he was once known—kept staring at you like an idiot, his sharp features unreadable. He didn’t even look troubled. Why would he be? For once, he wasn’t the one in trouble. He rather enjoyed it, wicked Frenchman that he was. Yet as you glanced at him, you felt another spark, a liquid warmth in your belly. His form, massive and imposing, stood out against the moonlight, making the entire hall feel smaller, more intimate.

Alaric had been cursed long long ago, cursed to find misery, coldness and no love. His face was no longer that of a beautiful Prince but of a beast with horns, sharp teeth and lion’s mane. He was massive and muscled, with strong legs and a wolf-like tail. His clothing was still royal, tailored to fit his form. He looked as elegant and well-groomed as possible.  

With an exasperated groan, you stroked your wrist harder, the glow intensifying with each stroke of your fingers. "Damn! Why doesn't it stop?! Please, stop it!"

He spoke with a long sigh, his voice low and rumbling. "I told you I cannot do that."

"You can't or you won't?"

"It's the mark of the curse…" His glance swept across your wrist. "There is no undoing it."

Your heart sunk at his words. You were aware of his curse but had no idea it could be transmitted through touch. Damnation! And damn the warmth of the mark, affecting your whole body. It felt warm and wet between your thighs as if a fire was spreading beneath your skin, connecting you to him. Every pulse of fire reminded you of your error.

“I… I didn’t ask for this!” you protested, rubbing at the mark as if you could wipe it away with sheer willpower. “I was just—just curious! I did not want to be cursed.”

“You touched me, therefore now you will pay. You are bound to me.”

You shot him a sharp look, waving your pulsing wrist in the air. “You could have warned me that I’d get cursed just by touching you!”

He chuckled, the sound deep and rich. “But I did warn you not to touch me, didn’t I? You were simply too curious.”

“I thought you were goading me, challenging me! You didn’t mention the part where I’d be magically tethered to you like a pet on a leash,” you snapped despite the lingering warmth in your chest. 

“You are wild and untamed. Always speaking back to me, always doing as you please. It’s your fault, little one.”

“Still…” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. “A little heads-up would’ve been nice.”

“Where would the fun in that be?”

“Oh, yes, this is so hilarious. I’m cursed with a pulsing tattoo— it glows like a freaking beacon by the way—and you’re not in the least concerned.”

“The mark will stop glowing once you accept it.”

“I’ll never accept it!”

Alaric sighed. “The curse cast upon me ensured I would never be loved. I was cursed to live as a beast, hated and feared... alone."

You gazed at him, the weight of his words hurting your heart. His formidable, imposing frame suddenly appeared fragile.

“However,” he continued, “there is a way… for the curse to wane. Not to break it entirely, but weaken its grasp. The curse weakens—forever— when I am touched by someone who genuinely loves me.”

“So… this mark…”

Alaric nodded. “It means you are the one fated to love me. And because of that, the curse has loosened its grip on me. Though I can never return to the man I once was, I can have love.”

Your eyes welled with emotion, but you refused to cry in front of him. “So… this is permanent?" 

Alaric hummed and stepped close, his towering frame suddenly feeling much too close. “I’m sorry… but you are now bonded to me, my thorny rose,” he purred. “Alas, you could have worse company, no? And the mark… I think it’s quite beautiful.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “Beautiful? It’s so big and so… damn hot!”

“That temper of yours…” he sighed softly, in a way a beast like him never would. “Of course it makes you hot. The closer we are, the more it will affect you. It’s a sign that our bond is… flourishing.”

You blinked, rubbing your thighs together at the effect of his deep voice, presence and scent. “Flourishing? My wrist isn’t a garden, Alaric. This is my skin. And I assure you, it’s not supposed to glow.”

“We are connected. The curse… it has tied our fates together. The more we fight it— both of us— the more painful it will become."

You swallowed hard. “And if I… don’t fight it? Will it stop and leave my skin?”

“No. Never, little one. The mark will just settle there, binding you to me, fully and irrevocably. But… I’m afraid we cannot stray far from one another without feeling pain.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

His lips curled, showing just the barest flash of sharp teeth. “Immensely.”

Stupefied, you spun around, intending to get some fresh air but the moment you moved away, a sudden, scorching pain went through your chest, making you gasp. He was there instantly, steadying you with a large, clawed hand. You curled into his body, sighing pleasantly at the feel of his fur against your skin. It felt so good, warm and inviting, his musky scent tantalizing your senses. You hadn’t realized it but your hands were buried in his forearms, holding him to you.

“Foolish one,” he muttered, his breath warm against your temples. “What did I just tell you?”

“Alaric…” you sighed, meeting his eyes with reluctant acceptance. “Make it stop, please, make this ache go away.”

A low chuckle escaped him as he rubbed your wrist, feeling the warmth pulsating beneath your skin and tracing the delicate rose mark. The rose's delicate vines had wrapped themselves around your forearm, growing faintly. You bit back a moan, despite everything, you felt the pull—the odd bond that bound you to him, pulling you nearer to him with each breath.

“Ah, yes… it can be intense. Every step you take away from me will only bring more pain, more desire pooling deep inside.”

“Deep inside?”

Alaric raised a brow, a glint in his eyes. “Hmm, deep inside your cunt. I can scent your sweet arousal. Always could scent your need for me.”

You looked away. His words made you wet. Tenderly, he turned your face back to him. There was no hiding your blush or emotions.

“The curse bound us together. Two halves meant to be one. And if we give in…” he trailed off, his huge palm framing your face. “Would it be that bad?”

The tension in the room shifted as he stood there, with you in his arms, the strange pull between you palpable. Were you truly the one for him? Your heart stuttered. The idea of being physically and emotionally bound to Alaric—a beast of both grace and power —was captivating.

And the more you thought about it, the more your heart and body betrayed you. Oh dear… Yes, you wanted him. You wanted him with every ounce of your soul. Right on cue, the tattoo—its once glowing petals and vines now settled into a permanent black design that curled up your forearm. Becoming a part of you.

You didn’t resist when Alaric scooped you up, carrying you through hallways to his private chamber— a huge, opulent bedroom with polished wood and velvet furnishings, tapestries hanging on the walls, and a stone fireplace crackling in the corner. The bed was the largest piece of furniture in the room; it had a dark purple canopy covered in silk and velvet covers making it appear incredibly soft and inviting.

Alaric lowered you on the plush bedding and he came to rest beside you, his body half-looming over you, massive yet tender and protective. His eyes, golden and intense, settled on you then down to the rose mark. His fingers, clawed but surprisingly gentle, traced the rose before his tongue brushed a petal of the tattoo, feather-light, sending a shiver of electricity racing up your spine.

You watched, breathless, as he nuzzled and licked every petal, every vine, every thorn, his muzzle soft against your skin. The heat of his breath warmed you as he worked his way up your forearm, his mouth following the intricate lines of the rose, savoring every inch of it. With each kiss, your pulse quickened, your body shamelessly hot, your pussy dripping slick.

“Alaric…” you said in a sultry voice you could hardly recognize.

“Easy. We’ll take it slow, my thorny rose.”

As he said that, his lips hovered just inches from your collarbone. His tongue darted out, tracing the delicate indentation at the base of your neck. A sweet gasp escaped you as he licked a slow, tortuous trail down the round tops of your breasts, pulled up by your corset and your bodice. The laces on your bodice came undone, the corset disposed of in seconds as he skillfully drew the fabric down your waist, exposing your breasts to the cool air and his hungry gaze.

Your body arched closer to his, your nipples hardening into tight, aching buds. His eyes locked onto yours before he bent down and let his tongue trace the underside of each mound. You whined, burning so fiercely with desire as he licked the around your areolas. Teasing and exploring. Never quite getting to your sensitive nipples.

“Alaric,” you warned, thrusting your chest to his mouth.

“How I love it when you call my name.”

And with that, he licked one tiny bud, causing your body to shiver with want. Your hands gripped his horns, keeping him in place as he lapped one nipple, sucking wetly, his saliva and scent mingling on your skin. He did the same with the other nipple, and your body melted into his, hips arching up, breasts thrust sweetly into his lips.

You were lost in passion and he was only touching you.

You craved more. You wanted to touch, feel, and own every part of him.

Boldly, your hands slid up to his jacket, tugging at the heavy fabric, feeling its weight between your fingertips. You dragged his jacket away and he helped you remove it along with his shirt, without quite taking his tongue and hands off your breasts. Furry broad shoulders were revealed and a powerful, sculpted chest and stomach.

Large hands encompassed your tits as he growled softly and angled his head, his tongue trailing the curve of your neck. His fingers pinched your nipples, careful of his claws. Your breath hitched and you tilted your head back, offering him more.

“Oh god… yesss,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

Blindly, you brought his mouth to you, needing to feel his kiss. But he hesitated, pulling back slightly. His golden eyes met yours, darkened with desire but shadowed with worry.

“I’m afraid… of hurting you,” he drawled. “I have no lips and my teeth… they’re sharp. I don’t want to—”

“Use your tongue,” you whispered, breathless, gone was the shyness in you. “Please.”

For a moment, he seemed to hesitate, but then, as though unable to resist any longer, he surged forward. His mouth opened, and his tongue, hot and insistent, swept across your lips before plunging deeply. Deeper still. He tasted you, swallowed your breaths, and pressed his moist and burning tongue against yours, sending sparks of ecstasy shooting through you with each stroke. You gasped into his mouth, the sound drowned out by the sheer intensity of the kiss, your hands grabbing his shoulders.

The sound of fabric tearing and garments hitting the floor was the only indication of what was to come.

The flickering light in the room danced across your flesh, both naked and unashamed. His body enveloped yours, his weight pressing down on you, his thighs spreading your legs apart. The sheer size of him caused your pussy to clench. His shaft was a massive veined rod of flesh, long and thick, with a knot at the base. His cock throbbed and leaked moisture, and his balls thick and heavy, hung like ripe fruit.

You couldn't help but reach out, a little bashful as your fingers stroked the silky warmth of his shaft. It was both firm and tender, as hot as touching a blazing flame. Alaric snarled and watched your small hands. You trailed the protruding veins and bulbous head all the way down to the bulging sac. He growled, his entire body tense.

“Such soft gentle touches. But I can’t—little one. I need to taste you, have you.”

You opened your mouth to protest but whined instead when his tongue licked the delicate folds of your pussy. Your body ignited, waves of ecstasy crashing over you. Spine arching, you opened your legs obscenely wide, his head buried in between, wet tongue consuming your depths. He thrust his appendage inside, snarling primitively, and you sighed delightfully, your cunt pressing against his mouth as you shut your eyes tightly and surrendered to the passion.

“Mmmmm, so breathtaking,” he drawled, his tongue gracing your cunt. “I love the rose mark on your skin but even more so the petals on your wet cunt… so lovely and wet. I love to tease and lick them.”

Eyes holding your own, he hooked his large hands around your thighs, bringing them around his furred torso. His dick, massive and twitching, stroked against the wet petals of your cunt. He lubricated himself; you were soaked and ready to receive him. You wiggled and squirmed, impatiently attempting to guide him inside. Finally, with a gentle nudge, he growled, and the broad popped in.

Cupped your ass, he pushed inside, his cock gliding into you in one smooth thrust. You were incredibly tight, untouched and you gasped at the slight discomfort of the invasion. Despite his size, he somehow fit, his body seemingly designed to mold itself to yours. Your cunt was stretched wide, only his knot showing, and your belly bulged slightly, revealing the curve of his shaft beneath your skin.

Alaric caressed your belly lovingly as if marveling at the sight. “Yes, mine. It will be alright. I promise you. Does it hurt, little one?" 

You shook your head. “Not anymore. Please… hmmm—move. Need to feel you so desperately.”

“As you wish, my rose.”

His eyes never left yours as he thrust out of you, all the way out before slowly filling you up. This time there was no discomfort, only building intensity. His shaft slid in and out of you, the friction reigniting your desire. Your body flexed, your walls squeezing around his dick as he increased the pace. His thrusts became faster and more urgent, and you held him, rocking against him as his tongue stroked yours, making you dizzy with desire. 

Alaric was unstoppable, unrelenting and soon you were both shuddering in climax. He thrust one final time, bottomed out inside you till his swollen knot had popped inside. You whined, muscles contracting around him, your cunt snug around his knot, tying you together. You saw stars, thrashed wildly in little aftershocks as he released, a flood of cum filling you up. It didn’t help that he let out those delicious growls, tongue devouring your mouth.

Time seemed to stand still. You lay there, with him atop you, his dick still pulsing within you, his knot throbbing with a slow beat. It had been minutes and he was still spurting, though slower this time. You basked in the afterglow of your passion, felt so utterly at peace. Your bodies had become one and the tattoo on your wrist had never felt so right.

You were his, completely and utterly his.

“How are you feeling, my thorny rose?” he asked after he’d rolled over so you were draped over his chest, his knot still hard inside you.

“I feel loved,” you said as you rested over his chest feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath the fur. “I have never been kissed or loved by anyone like this before—have never felt anything like this before.”

“There is no going back now,” he said possessively. “You gave yourself to me. What I feel for you is raw, primal. It cannot be stopped or contained.”

You grinned. “So, what? I’m just stuck to you for the rest of eternity?”

“Figuratively and literally, I’m afraid,” he said, groaning at the feel of his knot tucked inside your warm cunt.

“You’re insufferable, you know that?”

Alaric’s eyes softened. “I will never be the charming Frenchman I once was. That man’s appearance is gone, replaced by this… beast.”

Smiling, you let your hand reach up to touch his face, tracing the firm lines of his jaw, his fur silky beneath your fingers. “The appearance might be gone,” you whispered, “but your heart isn’t. Besides, I think I’m past wishing for a handsome prince on a white horse. French or not.”

A low chuckle vibrated through his chest. “You’ve got a strange way of looking at things.”

“And you’ve got a strange way of doubting yourself,” you shot back teasingly. “You might not be the Prince you once were, but you’re more than enough for me.”

“Don’t you regret it?” he asked quietly after a few seconds. “Mating with me? That I’ll always be… like this?”

“Oh, I am surprised but this is so lovely,” you murmured, hands caressing his shoulder. “It’s so lovely because I always wanted you to be mine. I've always felt attracted to you but was frightened to admit it. I was also scared you would reject me heartlessly."

“Never. I could never do that.” He took your hand, kissed the rose tattoo on your wrist.

You smiled up at him, your heart swelling with love. “You are thoroughly mine, Alaric.“

For a moment, he stared at you and a soft, almost amused rumble escaped him. “You really are something,” he drawled, his free hand brushing the curve of your ass. “You’ve given me something I thought I could never have again." 

“I am yours,” you whispered. “I love you. All of you, my Beast.”

“I love you more, my thorny rose,” he said, his eyes dark with lust.

Smiling, you kissed and made love again —harder, hotter, and wetter.

THE END

[inbabylontheywept]

I've mentioned before my list of online authors that do something that just cannot be replicated anywhere else.

(Sam Kriss is probably my key example. If you want to feel your brain twist into an entirely new shape, read this. Or this. Or this. He's incredible.)

My new favorite writer of the day is... Some Guy. That's his writing name. But his substack is here, and his memoir material is the best I’ve read in years. I'm going to tack on that his childhood was deeply horrible, and while he manages to write about it in an amusing and fond way, it was, just. Gruesome. I can't tack enough trigger warnings onto it, but I also cannot describe how many things he'll make you feel. Good things. I'm humbled to say this, but he's not like Sam Kriss where he does something entirely new and I couldn't compete with him if I wanted to. I could compete with him, and I'd lose. Every. Single. Time. Makes me want to keep writing another 20 years just to see if I can get that kind of shine.

[ch3rish-ning]

SAY YOU LOVE ME, 엔하이픈 성훈

— my heart beats , for you only.

(ƒemale ℛeader ‪‪❤︎‬. Sunghoon x reader / fluff, oneshot , kissing ‘) ── .✦ reblogs + wc. 564

A/N: I lowkey enjoyed writing this [>=<]

feedback appreciated ☆

365 days around the clock. Never skipping a beat, a love so refreshing it can never be replicated, so delicate that even the slightest interference can shatter it. You cherish the beauty of it, the thought that a man like him could ever love you so. He's seen all of you. The good, the broken, the damaged that's far beyond repair, yet he saw a girl that was worth loving and a girl that needed someone to sweep her off her feet and make her feel like the most important thing in the world.

Simply because you are, at least in his world. Lying on the bed with limbs tangled together, you caress his hair, loving the silent intimate moments like these. Nothing but soft breathing to fill the silence. Neither of you can barely remember the last time you left the comfort of your home, too wrapped up in one another. "This is nice…" you softly croak out while twirling his hair between your fingers. Looking up at you with his sleepy eyes, he answers, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," you sigh in content, "we do this often, but it feels like it's the first time all over again." Soft laughter bubbles from within him. "You're such a sap, you know?" Playfully hitting his head, you roll back over on your side. "Hey! I'm not a sap...I just like being with you," you smile cheekily.

You always know how to make him flustered with the littlest things you say; that's what made him go crazy about you. You watch as his ears change color from natural to a soft crimson pink, something you've grown fond of in your relationship, making sure to say things more often just to see the change in color. He groans, burying his face in your neck. "Must you always tease me, huh?"

"I can't help it, you know it's what I do best." Grinning from ear to ear, you ruffle his hair up a bit, loving how he always keeps it fluffy. "Remind me why I love you again," he asks teasingly, mumbling under his breath. "Because you know me best, and no one has your heart like I do."

He holds those words close, letting them replay in the back of his mind, feeling a sense of tranquility pass over him; he cups your cheeks softly, pulling you into the sweetest kiss that could make you cry. Lips melting together, you savor the familiar feeling, the familiar sweetness of honey laced in this kiss. Deepening the kiss as he holds you closer, soft sighs escape from your lips.

This is a long-awaited love that you've desired and a feeling that's been imprinted on your skin and engraved in your mind. You simply cannot get enough of it and only desire more as he further opens his heart to you just as you open up yours to him. Pulling away slowly, he searches your eyes with his own low, sleepy ones. Words coming out ever so faintly but still audibly: "I love you."

Heart still skipping a beat as if it's your first time hearing those words again. You allow the words to dance across your mind, never forgetting them: "I love you more." You respond, smiling softly at him. This love is delicate and meant to be cherished always. And you wouldn't have it any other way because your heart beats for him only.

©CH3RISH-NING 2025

[creatingblackcharacters]

My 2 Cents

So, one of the follow up questions I asked was

"are you willing to recognize that you have a willing tolerance for antiblackness? That there is a certain amount that you are okay with allowing before thinking it's worth speaking up?"

My goal in asking this question is not to cause you shame (though shame is not inherently a bad thing).

No, the goal is for you to practice active honesty with yourself! Be willing to accept the decisions You made!

You cannot confront- and therefore address- your own racism if you aren't willing to admit to when you're doing and allowing it. Ibram X Kendi's How To Be An Antiracist touches on this topic, of how racism and anti racism are a series of choices, not identities! Here's an article discussing it:

"No one is born racist or antiracist; these result from the choices we make. Being antiracist results from a conscious decision to make frequent, consistent, equitable choices daily. These choices require ongoing self-awareness and self-reflection as we move through life. In the absence of making antiracist choices, we (un)consciously uphold aspects of white supremacy, white-dominant culture, and unequal institutions and society. Being racist or antiracist is not about who you are; it is about what you do."

My personal fan example (and you knew this was coming 🤣) is Hades. I recognized that Patroclus' design is a white man in all but his ashy dark brown skin. It was a racist design, meant to be "representation", and I thoroughly disdain it. It wasn't enough to stop me from buying the game and enjoying it. I made a choice, to settle for mediocre representation so that I could enjoy a character I like! I still spoke up about racist and colorist fan designs, hoping that at least fans may be more receptive to not replicating racism (but that's otros veinte pesos 😬).

I'd naively hoped that maybe they'd do better the second time; maybe their actions were from ignorance! Maybe they'd learn! A *snicker* sage old man once said:

"fool me once, shame on — shame on you. Fool me — you can't get fooled again."

Jokes on Dubya aside, I knew that I was already discontent with the designs in the first game, but I allowed it for my own enjoyment. I acknowledge that. But I had to be honest with myself the second time: if the lack of effort in the dark-skinned character design bothered me so much, and I spent all that time speaking out on it the first time... what do I look like then going to spend money on the sequel game doing it again? Do I really stand for what I said I stand for? Can I ask others to stand for what I stand for, if I don't really stand for it?

That time, I said "no". I decided I'd reached how much I was willing to put up with. I had to accept the consequences of speaking on that choice, including risking being rejected by a creative space I really wanted to be a part of. It is what it is. And it's one of many choices I'll actively make for the rest of my life. Comfort v The Right Thing.

Anyway, these are the sorts of conversations you'll have to have with yourself. Coming to terms with your choices along the journey will better help you identify just how much you're willing to sit on, and whether you want to make a difference about that. You might recognize when you're making a long streak of decisions that suggest you care less than you'd like to think; you might find out you've swallowed more than enough! But you gotta be honest about your own role in it!

[zecroswe]

Self replicating and self annihilating, Mage Viktor, his goals, and Jayvik.

I have a lot of thoughts when It comes to Arcane as a show and I love season 2 a lot. One thing the show that I have been thinking about is Mage!Viktor and his true goal. You may wonder what I mean with this, after all his goal seems quite clear, 'prevent the Glorious Evolution/the end of the world and in the process break the timeloop/cycle Viktor and Jayce are trapped within'. And yes that is true, It is his goal! But if It was the only purpose of his actions, wouldn't the AU timeline Ekko ends up in be enough?

After all, that timeline has no Hextech and no Hexcore. The Glorious Evolution cannot take place in this timeline, so why did that timeline not break the cycle? Well let's first establish the nature of the timeloop/cycle.

Jayce and Viktor seems to be within a unstable multidimensional bootstrap paradox loop/cycle. I say unstable because the butterfly effect is very prominent in the show, so a small variable can change things significantly.

We don't know if there is a 'Original' timeline that started the cycle, so It seems safe to assume that the cycle is a bootstrap paradox with no clear origin point, something that in turn causes Jayce and Viktors partnership and the invention of Hextech to also be a Paradox. In this cycle there also seems to exist certain events that will more or less always happen, but not necessarily in the same way, or in other words, constants and variables within the timelines.

One of those constants seem to be that Jayce will always attempt to invent Hextech.

So if the goal was just to prevent the Glorious Evolution, the simple way to achieve It would just be to stop Jayce from inventing Hextech, but Mage!Viktor doesn't do this, because he can't do It, It would go against the true purpose of actions.

After a lot of thought and discussions with my older sister sense the show ended (also being insane about Jayvik), we came to a conclusion. Mage!Viktors goal is not just to prevent the Glorious Evolution or save Runeterra.

His goal is to save Jayce

To find a timeline were Jayce survives, with or without Viktor.

The reason to stop the Glorious Evolution is not only because It is the end of humanity and a world of dreamless solitude, but because It is a world without Jayce in It.

Suddenly a lot of the hoops Mage!Viktor goes through makes a lot more sense and also why the AU timeline Ekko ends up in doesn't achieve Mage!Viktors goal.

Jayce is most likely not alive in that timeline. According to Amanda, Jayce was exiled due to Vi dying in the explosion.

And well, we know what Jayce was about to do in the Main timeline when he *Only* got expelled and his research was ordered to be disposed of. It is very likely that Jayce in the AU timeline went through with taking his own life and AU Viktor most likely wouldn't be there to interrupt the attempt.

With this in mind and other key events in the show, finding a timeline were Jayce survives is actually really difficult! It is literally more likely that Jayce dies somehow than him living a full life time, I am not kidding. The amount of fail states that exist for this is honestly insane, so let's go through them shall we?

I will go through a few key events as examples and use certain scenarios to explain the potential chain reactions. Think of It like a flowchart, but without the chart. I can't take all variables into account, but I will show of some key examples to hopefully make sense of my point.

Exhibit A: The Blizzard

This is were the timeline spaghetti starts and were there is already multiple ways Mage!Viktors plan can go wrong.

Scenario 1: Mage!Viktor doesn't interfere

In this scenario two things could most likely happen. Either A: Jayce and Ximena die in the blizzard, or B: Jayce somehow survives the blizzard but Ximena still dies.

version A: Jayce is dead, Fail-state 1

Version B: Jayce is alive, but this will most likely lead to Jayce being exiled from Piltover due to Ximena not being around to speak up during the trial, and I am concred for Jayces mental state without a support network, the butterfly effect will most likely result in Jayce being dead somehow. Fail-state 2

Scenario 2: Mage!Viktor saves Jayce and Ximena but gives Jayce a Non-Acceleration rune or no rune at all

There is only one result of this. Jayce and Ximena both survive the blizzard.

Jayce is alive, but without the Acceleration rune, Ekko won't be able to invent the Z-drive and might be trapped in a AU timeline and as a result Arcane Herald Viktor will succeed with the Glorious Evolution, killing Jayce, Fail-state 3

Exhibit B: The Robbery

There is a lot of variance here and a few fail-states, but most of the fail-states are linked to the trial.

Scenario 1: Jayce doesn't get robbed

In this scenario Jayce would still keep his research a secret and most likely would not meet Viktor because his room is no longer a crime scene. This could would either lead to A: Jayces experiments with the crystals goes wrong and he blows himself up, B: Jayce doesn't succeed and is still stuck in his research or C: Jayce still gets put on trial somehow for having illegal contraband.

Version A: Jayce is dead, Fail-state 4

Version B: Jayce has no one to ask for help with his research and according to what Jayce wrote in his journal, his grades at the academy are dropping and might be at risk of expulsion.

Considering what Jayce almost did when he got expelled....Yea i think It is safe to call this a fail-state. Fail-state 5

Version C: Jayce would be put on trial and the nature of his research would come into question. He would still probably be expelled from the academy due to the illegal nature of his research. The main diffrence is that Viktor might not be at the trial this time and not be inspired by Jayce. Meaning that Viktor would probably not seek Jayce out, meaning that Jayce probably would go through with his attempt uninterrupted. Fail-state 6

Scenario 2: Jayce gets robbed

Well we got a example of a fail-state in the show for this but it is still worth mentioning. A: One of the kids dies in the explosion or B: Jayce dies in the explosion.

Version A: As mentioned earlier, Vi or any of the other kids dying in the explosion leads to Jayce getting exiled. Fail-state 7

Version B: Jayce is dead. Fail-state 8

Exhibit C: The Hexcore

Won't go into too much detail here because It would take waaaay to long, but the Hexcore is basically a exponential fail-state here. Considering what the Hexcore can do and what Jayce does with It in the show, the Hexcore basically means that any scenario Viktor dies a potential fail-state. Because one could argue that if Viktor dies at any point when the Hexcore is invented, Jayce will likely use It to do necromancy on Viktor, putting everything on track for the Glorious Evolution, or fail to do necromancy instead do something else insane that may or may not get him killed. The Hexcore is a temporal mine of fail-states, one that cannot really be prevented fully because Hextech + Viktor = Hexcore gets invented, and as established, No Hextech = No Jayce and No Viktor = No Jayce. Fail-state 99+

It is impossible for Mage!Viktor to stop the cycle before the Hexcore due to all the fail-states mentioned above. The only chance he has is if Jayce someone stops Arcane Herald Viktor before the Glorious Evolution starts. The Hexcore needs to be properly disarmed, or else It metaphorically explodes and Jayce dies.

Conclusion:

Mage!Viktor and Viktor in general is just as codependent for Jayce as Jayce is for Viktor. Both of them are fully willing to bend all of reality for each other. They both doom and save each other over and over and over again, just to stay together. The only way this cycle breaks is if they both make It out alive or both of them die together (I think they live but I digress). Mage!Viktor probably would not predict Jayce to stay with Viktor, It was not a requirement for his goals after all, but Jayce would never abandon Viktor and Viktor would never abandon Jayce.

In a way, Jayce and Viktors bond is the anomaly, self replicating and self annihilating, the beautiful intersection between order and chaos. Viktor replicates the cycle by trying to save Jayce and Jayce keeps self annihilating through his attempts to reach Viktor, knowingly or not, by inventing Hextech. They are soulmates by choice, the universe is trying to separate them any chance It gets and yet they keep fighting just to be together, and I think that is beautiful!

TL;DR: Mage!Viktors primary motivation is to save Jayce and find a timeline where he doesn't die before or during the Glorious Evolution. This process is extremely complicated because the universe does not like Jayce Talis existing because according to the timloop/cycle paradox, his existence is a time-space anomaly. Jayce and Viktor are both insane and willing to break all laws of time and space to be with each other. Thanks for coming to my TED talk.

[ghostarii]

HALLUCINOGEN (LOSING YOUR MIND), KAFKA

ʚɞ blurred lines of reality and illusions, meistered by an illusory manifestation of deep desires and wanton bliss bring about an enlightenment far beyond anything holy.

WARNINGS ݈݇- fem!reader, praise, slapping, nipple play, spit, hair pulling, cunnilingus, overstimulation, implied inexperienced!reader, biblical(?) references but no explicit relation, fingering, corruption kink, kafka teasing, minors & non nb/wlw do not interact.

NOTE ݈݇- soo . . . i won’t get into where i’ve been but just know i’m going through a lot And desperately need a distraction. i’ve turned my brain off n wrote this w my pssy so if it gets crazy blame her! jus in need of som mindless horny fun 😞😞

WORD COUNT ݈݇- 3.3k

COLORFUL STROBES FLICKER WITH reckless abandon, jumping in excited juxtaposition to the smooth, dance beat that plays through the speakers. Lucidity fills the room—you’re hyper-aware yet unconscious: watching everything from an existential position and you're drunk off the omnipotence. It coats your body in this mesmerizing feel beyond comprehension. Something so shimmery and soft that you find comfort in it, yet houndingly aggressive that you're thrashed around in its throes. It only amplifies as time passes and you can't feel any fucking better.

Everything feels intense. On a molecular level, you can feel everything, and it’s a sensation that’s beyond your expectations. It's like…subhuman—or, no, rather, extraterrestrial: akin to otherworldly intensities that cannot be created nor replicated on Earth. You are somewhere else, reaching the heights beyond existence that bathe you in sweaty warmth and glittery kisses.

Not Heaven nor Nirvana, but something nameless. Something seedier and gutsy, gnarled in debauched patterns of unholiness and temptations, wrong in every right way, and bad in every good way. Where or whatever it is is uncharted but it is shared— and you’d stay here with her until it fades into nothingness.

You will stay here with her until it fades into nothingness. She is the nucleus of this illusory ecstasy-scape, and in her hands, you are guided along a path of pure, unadulterated, fantasy.

She is made up of raw vulgarity: it in its purest form as something seduces you into her proximity, begging you to bite the apple and see the light.

Just do it, it’d be so easy.

Don’t you want to taste it? The juice…the sweetness…feel the bite in your jaw?…

Put your mouth to it, let it lead you…

The voice in your head is distant yet wholly present. Almost as though it were whispering in your ear while directing your movements, pushing you deeper into the darkness. Where the light doesn't reach and the ambiguity of the following heightens is where it dwells: perfect, round, and red—shiny and plump and enticing—

Doesn't it look delicious?

It does.

Grab it, then.

It's in your hands now. Caressing it, you admire its magnificence. Soft skin, unplagued by irregularities and blemishes, rosy and inviting.

Bite it.

You lean in.

Head cocked at an opportune angle, lips parted readily, you lean forward…

A bite like a kiss…

A kiss like a bite?

Tender nibbles upon contact quickly morph into sloppy openings. Everything slops and clashes together, fighting aggressively in search of a fix. Fill that hungry, haunting void that grumbles in your stomach, aching terribly for sustenance.

You moan for it— whimpering a pathetic Please against her mouth and resting your forehead against hers. “Gimme…”

She laughs, cupping your pouty face in her palms. “Sweet girl,” she says, pecking your lips. “What do you need from me?”

Everything.

Her kisses feel like pillows all over your face. Gentle presses in a scattered manner, showering you with tender affection that blooms in your chest.

The heft that controlled your body has now morphed into feather-lightness—as though you weigh nothing and are floating across the Heavens. The colorful lights and bass-boosted music have ceased and you now reside in a dark room, illuminated by a single, dim night table lamp and ambient light leaking through crimson curtains. A bed sits beneath you, soft like clouds and cushioning you as you’re laid down on it, limbs stretched beneath her straddling.

She continues to kiss down your body, leaving your face and heading South to your neck, where her mouth latches and suckles on the skin. Your body has an immediate reaction: your eyes are fluttering closed and your hips are gyrating upwards, where your core catches her thigh and the throb that pumps through it harshens. You gasp out, grabbing the back of her head and tangling your fingers through her plum locks, pulling out the ponytail holder and letting limp curls coil down your forearm.

“You taste so good..so sweet,” she mumbles, pulling at the flimsy fabric of your top until the fabric screeches, a tear forming in the center. She continues to pull until the red garment is split in half, discarded to the side, and leaving you in your white bra. It's decorated in lace swirls and vines across the cups, peeking over in a rosette border that teases your assets. Enveloped in intricacies, you’re displayed beneath her as a decadent confection—ready to be devoured into nothingness. “I can’t get enough of you.” She says.

The silver clasp glints in her eye as it sits between your cleavage, asking for a break as your breasts hold it hostage. “May I?”

“Please,” you breathe out. At your heed, she pulls the hook apart with ease, and your boobs jump out of their confines.

She helps you shrug the material off your shoulders, soon tossing it off the side of your cloud-bed and leaving you bare from the waist up. You don't try to cower under attention. Instead, you revel in it, bathing in the rose tint she views you in and presenting yourself.

Humor is found in your actions, and she can't help but crack a smile at you. Her hand drives up from your navel and passes through the valley of your breasts to grapple around your neck. Fingers immediately press on the pressure points in your neck, making your [already] heavy eyes droop harder and your lips purse and part. You're lifted slightly off the bed, inches away from her face as she hovers over you.

“I don't know where to start,” she says, softly. “There’s so many things I want to do to you.”

“Do it all.” You lean up, chasing the distant feel of her lips. She hesitates to indulge you, going back and forth between leaning in and creating distance, leaving her in a silent push and pull where she defiantly fights the magnetism. “I'm all yours—”

“Mm mm.” She hums, shaking her head. She can't do this, she can't do you.

You nod your head, almost eagerly, chasing her lips. “Use me.”

No. She shakes her head no, leaning further back.

“Take me.” You say, following her actions.

No. I can’t.

“Ruin me.”

Her hand weakens around your neck, and you're quick to grab it, returning it to its place around your neck. Your eyes are polished and wide, wordlessly begging her for attention.

Meek squeaks slip out of your mouth as her grip returns, the pressure she applies being much tighter and more restrictive than previously. Still, your lips still find the courage to pull into a small smile, parting and making way for the whisper your voice has turned into. “Kafka,” you moan out, her name heavy on your tongue, “fuck me.”

She sits before you, sweet purplish hair framing around her pale frame, juxtaposing the deep, salacious fuschia that glares at you. An almost taunting glow emits from her as she ponders her next course of action— should she turn her mind off and act aimlessly, or should she retreat with sensibility? She's already come thus far, she’s already molded you in her palm, she's already invented a paradise for you…it is yours to defile as you please.

If you must beg her so wantonly, as though you’ll die without feeling her version of pleasure, she must forfeit the fight and succeed in the throes of ecstasy. She has been tempted.

Your wish is obliged with care. She pins you beneath her, diving back into where she left off with a searing fervor. Her lips leave stains of her red lipstick smeared across your chest, trailing streakily across the surface until she kisses around your right tit.

A line is drawn by her tongue from beneath your underboob area to your areola, pebbling the skin in her wake. Your nipples perk and harden, the left immediately becoming a target of bullying from her pinching fingers. Sharp, black almond nails cover the bud as she tweaks it harshly, immediately subduing your wince by licking over your right nipple.

Her eyes stay on your face as she enacts so, carefully dancing her tongue over and around it until she sucks it into her mouth, mimicking the suction with the pinch of her fingers. You moan out, throwing your head back and greeting the swirling sight of stars and glimmering streaks. They paint upon a blacked-out view, covering the inside of your eyelids with the visual manifestation of how you feel. Elated. Content. Pleasured. Something you've never felt before and it is…wow.

“Kaf…” you meekly whimper, unable to even say the rest of her name. Your hand presses her face closer to your chest, almost aiming to slowly ease your entire body into her mouth. It feels so fucking good— like nothing you've ever felt before and you don't want her to stop.

Your body is warm to the touch and it feels like your veins are pumping pure stardust. Her tongue swirls and loops around your nipple, slopping spit and vocal vibrations all over the sensitive bud, eliciting the sweetest broken moans from you. They're unabashed and full of weight, carrying the load of untouched desire.

How long have you been waiting for this?

Too long.

Was it worth the wait?

So, so worth it.

What do you want next?

“Touch me.” You don't even mean to say it out loud, but it slips out amongst the flurry of gasps you puff. Hips bucking desperately in search of something only to meet a sufficient source once every few thrusts. It’s not enough, you need the tingle between your legs tended to. “G-Goddammit, Kaf, please…”

She needs not another instruction, simply obliging your request with her hand making work of your pants, undoing the pesky clasps. Separating from you, she uses the opportunity to rid of her shirt, sliding her pants down her legs and kicking it all to the floor. Her hands grab at the belt loops, tugging the tight fabric slowly down your legs while maintaining eye contact.

Don’t take your eyes off me.

She doesn't even need to say it. You know it— as though it were an innate action hardwired into your very being.

You watch her intently as your pants are finally pulled off your legs, leaving the limbs angled up on her chest. Discarding your pants to the side, she runs her hands up and down your legs, kissing down the left from your ankle to your shin, to your knee, to your thigh, over to the other leg, and going back up.

“So patient..good girl. Letting me take my time with you…” she says, breathily. Kissing back down your leg, slowly positioning herself eye-level with your cunt. She licks a line from your hamstring to your panty-clad cunt, eyes still never leaving you. She kisses firmly on the wet spot that stretches over the seat of your white panties, leaving the remnants of her lipstick on the fabric in a kiss mark. You’re hot, throbbing, and soaking— primed for her demolition. “Want me here?”

You nod furiously, pushing yourself into her face. “Need you there.” You correct, hooking your fingers under the band of your underwear and awkwardly shimmying the garment off.

“Needy little thing, aren't you?” She muses, tucking her hair behind her ears. You slowly unveil yourself to her, letting the stuffy air draft over your wetness, pushing shivers down your spine. “Just waiting and waiting..oh, ‘m sorry…”

The prettiest pussy she’s ever seen awaits her attention. Eagerly beating at her, your cunt drools and shines, drowning itself in an overwhelming amount of arousal that even beads off the curve of your ass. All of this for her, only for her, because of her…Kafka might just be the luckiest woman in the universe.

She wedges herself tighter between your legs, feeling the heat that burns in you and smelling the sweetness just waiting to be swallowed. Her eyes go back up to you, catching the tears of frustration building, and her smile breaks wider.

“‘M sorry for making you wait so long.”

Spread ‘em.

You spread your legs wider to make space for her head, immediately throwing your head back when her exhale fans over your cunt.

Her tongue darts immediately toward your slobbering hole, licking up the tracks of arousal that spill down the fat of your ass. She slams her dominant hand down on your cheek, giving it a soft rub as she giggles at your wince-whimper combination. Her tongue draws looping circles around your entrance, slipping down and licking up the stray beads. She then drives it back up to your hole, pushing the muscle into your tight entrance with little force. Your eyes shoot open and you're adjusting to the new sensation, watching her intently as she creates a hard pace: in, out, in, out until she flickers the tip of her tongue over your fluttering hole and licks a flat strip halfway up through your folds before repeating.

The taste of you is already intoxicating. Unparalleled to anyone before you— you are pure and dripping raw ecstasy, lighting her body up in the wake of lightning. She can't get enough and moans into your cunt, rolling and spinning her tongue around your walls.

She hooks your right leg over her shoulder, slinking her arm beneath the limb and slithering her fingers to your neglected clit. Just hovering over the bud makes you shiver and buck into her mouth, so she takes the initiative to drive you fucking insane. Kafka must have some sort of magic touch, or she can read you like a first-grade book, because she presses down on the bud, rubbing it in a smooth back and forth. Your mind immediately short circuits and you're back on that illusory plane, feeling everything with such great intensity that you feel your orgasm building already.

Clenching around her tongue and bucking into her mouth lets Kafka know that you're about to cum. She pulls off, building up a ball of spit on her tongue and dropping it off between your folds.

Her ministrations on your clit cease as she uses her two fingers to part your labia, licking boldly between your lips and collecting a heap of sticky slick on her tongue. She hums contently, swallowing down the fluid with dramatized vocalizations and intense eye contact.

“You taste so good, baby.” She moans, sliding her left hand into her panties. She begins touching herself, grinding on her hand while licking the taste of you off her lips. “Want you to cum in my mouth, okay? Make..a big mess for me,”

She moans out so vulgarly, letting her hand on your pussy falter and tickle over your puffy clit.

It's only now that you see Kafka: untamed. This is her in her rawest form— lust-gone and hungry. Wasting no time in leaning forward and attacking your clit, sucking the bud with such eagerness that she hollows her cheeks, squeaking our obnoxious sucking sounds that bounce off the walls. The suction is so harsh that you can't help but screech, grabbing her hair and pulling the handful of locks taut against her skull.

You can tell she likes that. So you do it again, simultaneously humping into her mouth.

Be rough.

She tries to pull back but you keep her there, forcing her nose to sit atop the mound of your pussy and asphyxiating her slowly.

Be mean.

“That's it— l-like that..! F-fuck, Kaf,” you sputter, the new flickering of her tongue over your clit eliciting sharp rods of lightning to pierce all over your body. You have no control over the moans that leave your mouth because your body is so beyond itself—receiving a kind of satisfaction never experienced before and it's reveling in that, boiling itself in pure heat and pushing out creamy bubbles. “Fuck—make me cum.”

She forces her head up against the behest of your hand, gasping in a big heap of air. Her face is flushed and wet, wearing the effect your pussy leaves on her, and yet, it still earns a piercing slap that sends her head in the opposite direction.

Oh, good. That was good.

Before you can stumble out an apology, she sneers at you. “Yeah? Is that how you're feeling?”

You didn't mean to do it—you don't know what came over you— “N-no—”

“Do it again.”

Kafka’s word is absolute and you have no room to disobey. You cock your arm back and swing, slapping her with a lot less force than before.

She grabs your hand and forces it to the back of her head, and you instinctively grab onto the hair. “Remember what you do to me…” she says, sticking her fingers into her mouth and suckling on the digits. Just as she pops them out of her mouth and directs them to your pussy, she looks back up at you. “You’re in control. Make me.”

Famous last fucking words.

The next few actions are melted together in a blur of galaxies and tears, ceasing to have a tangible visual but proceeding to wreck your body into oblivion. Kafka has sucked your clit until it's swollen, pleading to be left alone but consistently the target of merciless abuse. It doesn't help that it acts as though it were a self-destruct button—every ministration rendering your body stiff and turbulent: quivering beneath rigid curlings and tightenings.

You’re coasting through the skies with her head working between your legs, sucking the taste right off your pussy until it cries some more. It is an endless cycle of overwhelming pleasure that only builds upon itself, forming into an unstable, grandeur tower of lusty goodness that threatens to come crashing down.

She licks and sucks fervently, determined to yank your orgasm from your depths and taste the purest essence of you. And you are a victim to it— pulling half of her hair into a makeshift ponytail and fucking yourself on her face, desperately chasing the epicenter of your orgasm to make it let go.

“F-fucking me s-so good, Kaf—!” You squeal, feeling your stomach bubble and tighten. “C-close!!!”

Let go.

It's too much. It's so fucking good—good Lord—

Just cum.

Rightthererightthere– “Hnngggh—just like t-that! Shit!”

She sucks so hungrily on your pussy, eating you like a rabid dog on a fresh piece of meat. Her tongue is doing this you can't even describe and the images you see as a result are skewed.

Pretty visuals of clouds raining intergalactic hearts over a foggy sky and lightning streaks of ecstasy fill your fucked up head, imitating the euphoric feeling imposed on your body. You're so close—your body twitches and your eyes cry, pleasured sobs leaving your mouth as everything good attacks you all at once.

Be a good girl. Cum.

Kafka’s eyes roll into the back of her head as she feels your floodgates break— the orgasmic wave pushing out of your pussy and all over her face. The cry that's ripped from your throat is visceral and guttural, tearing your throat to shreds and rendering you a weeping mess.

If getting eaten felt good, orgasming feels even better. It feels cosmic—irreplaceable and delectable from beginning to end. And Kafka fucks you through it, flicking her tongue through your folds and slurping up your juices with a wide smile.

Give in; let it take you.

Stuck in the heat of euphoria, you only float higher to heights uncharted, soaring freely. Light reaches out to you in fragmented rays, calling to you in the galactic darkness to follow its way.

This is goodness. Everything holy and unholy; everything sacred and desecrated; everything clean and everything dirty; a culmination of unchained, terrific bliss right in your core.

It was always there, you just needed it out of you.

Now that you have it, nothing will be the same. So long as it still exists.

[mollysunder]

The Medarda Family and the True Goal of Shimmer

Nature has made us intolerant to change, but fortunately, we have the capacity to change our nature. -Singed

For most of s1 the only versions of magic the audience really gets familiar with are visualized through hextech blue and shimmer pink, but we can't trust it to represent what actual magic is like on Runeterra. People from PnZ are incredibly unfamiliar with magic, it was banned for centuries, and they're mostly retracing steps and doing guess work. The best metric to understand how magic works is to look at characters and regions that are actually inclined to magic, and the Medardas may be the best example yet.

When Ambessa accepts the Wolf totem from Lamb one half of dual aspects of death, her body is enveloped in a bright purple transformation before being reforged into a red that resembles the kind her ancestors and the Lamb wear.

It's the same bright purple that consumes Sky in Viktor's last experiment with the hexcore in s1.

I think this purple represents magic at its most malleable state, where it can be refined or change others into final products with a proper catalysts. By s1's final scene, we know that Mel possesses magic and likely uses it through her golden armor. We also know it's possible for magic to be a hereditary trait that can be passed down (not perfectly) through family lines, which is prized in Noxus (and Ixtal?).

So if Mel has magic that likely means the Medardas family in general has latent magic that flows through them naturally, but what does this have to do with shimmer or PnZ in general?

The Medardas are relevant to PnZ because Zaun's leading minds, Silco and Singed, have spent their capital trying to replicate what the Medardas can do!Shimmer doesn't exist purely as a bioweapon, that's frankly secondary to it's point. Shimmer exists as a means to artificially make the users capable of performing magic, or at least shift the user's biology into something that can tolerate magic. Hextech as a solution to the mystery of magic completely sidesteps the relationship between magic and the user by using machinery as middleman, while shimmer takes a more direct route.

Singed can't literally biohack nonmagical people into mages all by himself. Singed instead developed what's essentially a hormone therapy to give users temporary magic abilities by synthesizing shimmer from these mysterious plants that resembles the color of the magic within Ambessa before her deal with the Lamb.

Why didn't Singed and Silco just give people the magic purple plants directly if it's capable turning them into mages? Sky and Rio might be the best examples for why you don't do that. When young Viktor feeds Rio the purple plants we see Rio immediately lose vigor, as an audience most of us assumed that was simply Rio's pre-existing condition acting up, but the relationship is more simple. When Singed said Rio was dying, he said it with surety because Singed KNEW the exposure to magic was killing Rio. And Sky was DISINTEGRATED upon being exposed to the hexcore's magic.

In that vein, Singed used Rio as a work around. From what we see non-mage humans absolutely cannot tolerate exposure to even base magic, but Rio was able to last longer. Instead Singed and Silco exposed Zaun to a version of those magic flowers that was broken down by Rio's metabolism into a version that non-magical humans can tolerate.

The wild thing is that all this effort is to get non-mage users to Ambessa's UNREALISED state, the purple is just the base magic that exists in mages. Even still, Singed seems to have developed the kind of strain of shimmer that's the closest he's ever come to real magic, and Viktor and Jinx used it.

Viktor's own magical transformation has been facilitated by the hexcore in the same way the Lamb facilitated Ambessa's transformation. Do i think Viktor has essentially created his own Aspect through the hexcore? NO.

But in the same way shimmer is facsimilie of magical ability, so too is the hexcore a subsitute for living magic. And by living magic I don't mean unicorns or mermaids, I mean magic that is given consciousness and shape by being tethered to human concepts. And the hexcore's basic purpose is supposed to be magic that thinks and Viktor has tethered it to the human plane with his blood.

This all begs the question about what could exposure to the hexcore do to long term shimmer users? What WILL it do to Jinx? We all know that's inevitable next season.

You see, power, real power doesn't come to those who were born strongest or fastest or smartest. No. It comes to those who will do anything to achieve it. -Silco

Tldr: Shimmer is a large-scale project to turn the population of Zaun into mages, or magically tolerant, by essentially microdosing the population with magic through shimmer.

[heartz4levi]

HIIIII ILOVE UR WRITING SM OML I CANNOT THANK U ENOUGH... just a suggestion but would u be interested in doing a ivan x reader nsfw alphabet?? preferably fem reader or gn,, if thats okay!! Have a great day/ night <3

can't find, my all, your soul, i need !

☆ thinking abt ivan + nsfw alphabet . . .

☆ ivan (alnst) ,, fem reader . . the dom/sub dynamic switches at random intervals ,, guess what i'm doing.. pushing the freak ivan agenda ,, lots of sex talk ,, lots of kink talk also.

a — aftercare :

absolute king of pillow talk. will clean the both of you up, provide food and water is needed, the bare minimum really.

but the pillow talk is unmatched. the gossip goes crazy, whether ivan is the one delivering the news or is the one listening to the latest drama you've heard.

b — body part :

ivan likes his eyes. there's a certain mischievous charm in them, one that's hard to replicate, which only adds on to how much he appreicated them.

not a body part, but ivan adores your smile. he can't pick just one part of your body that he loves more than the rest, but something that enchants him a considerable amount is your smile, something he strives to keep on your face for as long as possible.

c — cum :

ivan's cum is thick and sticky. the taste doesn't have any particularly dominating note to it.

always coming in fat globs, ivan likes to paint either your tongue or your cunt white. not the inside. he likes cumming inside too, of course, but there's something about tainting your body with his cum that gets him going, in an odd way.

d — dirty secret :

not really a secret since he did bring the idea up before. ivan is curious and really wants to know how it'd feel like to be used by you.

he's talking toying with him for your own pleasure, unleashing a never before seen sadistic side, torturing him sexually and not showing even an ounce of care for his personal needs.

e — experience :

not a virgin, but also not a total whore.

ivan has slept with a few people before, just enough to know what he's doing by the time he ends up in your bed. and he's well—versed in a lot of kinks, considering how experimental he is.

f — favourite position :

ivan likes to fold you in some of the most foul positions, but doggystyle takes the cake. a certain kind of doggy though.

yeah, the generic doggystyle position is good, but he likes it best when there's a mirror and you're facing it, staring at your own fucked—out expression. always ends up pulling you up, your back flush against his chest to reach even deeper inside of you.

g — goofy :

ivan is never completely serious during sex, but he isn't actively trying to make you laugh either. he's more so just actively teasing you.

however he'd be quite amused if you tried making him laugh mid—sex, as if he wasn't literally going to town on your poor cunt.

h — hair :

nicely groomed. is not against the idea of waxing, but doesn't feel obligated to do it.

as for his partner, ivan just wants someone who prioritizes their hygiene, doesn't mean that your pussy has to be completely bare. fuck it, let it grow out, so long as it's not contagious he'll still hit.

i — intimacy :

can be very, very romantic at times.

but, being the versatile man he is, ivan can also treat you as if you're nothing but a sex toy. however a small part, deep down inside of him, yearns to be gentle. to love you, to worship you, to handle you like you're a sacred treasure.

top tier deep, slow strokes.

j — jack off :

ivan jacks off a regular amount. doesn't practice abstinence but doesn't get off to something every day.

he likes to prolong his sessions though, edging himself on purpose and making it all the more painful so that the eventual climax he will have will make him ascend spiritually.

k — kink :

a whole entourage of kinks. is into so many things, more than you can count on two hands.

ivan does quite like bondage tho and isn't aversed to being tied up himself. he likes the feeling of helplessness that comes with being restrained but takes just as much pleasure in the sensation of control that comes with having you tied up, at his mercy.

l — location :

like previously mentioned, a total freak. ivan is open to taking you during any time of day, at any location.

in public? sure, let the people nearby watch. in a secluded alley? sure, don't cover your mouth though. at home? has bent you over every existing surface.

m — motivation :

ivan enjoys playful banter with you. he encourages you to engage in it with him, to not be afraid of some unserious bickering.

sass—mouthing is a completely different thing. he still encourages it, just not as blatantly. he subtly adds fuel to the fire that is your sassiness, wanting you to strike the right nerve that'll allow him to put you in your rightful place.

n — no :

ivan likes boasting to others, speaks your praises in the midst of conversations with friends and acquaintances, shows you off at every given opportunity.

but ivan isn't fond of sharing. not because he's possessive, but because he doesn't want your eyes to wander elsewhere, as he is afraid that one slip—up on his part will be enough for you to lose interest in him.

o — oral :

absolute beast at oral. knows how to put that tongue to use like no other. it takes such a long time for his jaw to start hurting and even then he keeps going.

ivan is quite fond of receiving oral too. he doesn't have a favourite when it comes to giving or receiving, but the sight of you on your knees, taking all of him into your mouth while slick begins to coat your thighs definitely awakens something with him.

p — pace :

ivan's default pace always manages to knock all of the air in your lungs right out. he gives you plenty of time to adjust to the stretch of his cock, starts out slow at first, but before you know it he's already jackhammering into your cunt.

try to keep up with him, you can't. however it will be entertaining for him to watch you try and meet his thrusts halfway, ultimately giving up once you realize that your efforts are useless.

q — quickie :

always scowls at the mentions of quickies. but it's not like he can really take his time in public or semi—public spaces, no?

technically he can, but.. yeah, no. prefers to slowly pick you apart piece by piece, dumbing you down with each orgasm that washes over you.

r — risk :

his freak tendencies go hand in hand with the love he has for taking a good risk. ivan simply cannot deny a rush of adrenaline, the overwhelming thrill that courses through his body each time he makes a questionable decision.

s — stamina :

ivan has good stamina. not including foreplay, he can go for about four rounds before his stamina starts to deplete.

sometimes though, maybe on particularly stressful days or when he's a lot needier for you, could go at it until the sun rises. not even exaggerating.

t — toys :

ivan does actually own a few toys. he likes using them on himself and is always open to trying new ones.

similarly to how he likes to use them on you, as well. started off with the classic vibrator and ball gag, will ask you to try sounding with him when you get more used to implementing toys in the bedroom experience.

u — unfair :

such a tease it's unbearable. takes pleasure in bullying you to see the plethora of emotions that swirl within your eyes, enjoys controlling your orgasms to watch you thrash around whenever he denies you of yet another one.

v — volume :

ivan is vocal and not afraid to hide a single sound that comes out of his mouth.

moans and whines. moans. if it's not right in your ear, then it's loud and lewd enough for the neighbors to hear.

w — wild card :

at some point you can't pinpoint the exact start of after becoming sexually active with ivan, nothing surprised you anymore when it came to sex.

ivan as a whole is a wild card. are you surprised? no. you've gotten used to him and his interesting preferences by now. as you should!

x — xray :

ivan's cock is long, a little thick. veiny and it curves a tad. the head always leaks so much pre whenever he's really aroused.

if you tease him, you will feel his cock twitch and/or jump. palm him through his pants and you'll feel his cock straining against the fabric, slap it and watch little spurts of cum ooze out of the tip.

y — yearning :

ivan is pretty much always down to get into your pants.

that doesn't mean he's constantly asking to have sex, it just means that he rarely ever denies you. his self—restraint is surprisingly good.

z — zzz :

never falls asleep before you do. the pillow talk keeps him up, not in the haunting him long after you've dozed off way, but in the he's so invested he needs to know more asap way.

[sybaritick]

if i was contributing to the Europa ice war memes it would be with 5 paragraphs about the complexity and process of getting all this stuff there and how that is by far the biggest problem. by mass driver maybe, because the expense of building the infrastructure for that would be worth it with the amount of stuff you'd have to transport (instead of current type of rocket launches). and build one on Europa too for the return. and at what speed can that realistically travel? At light speed it's like half an hour but we have no way of achieving that now or anytime soon. At current fastest rocket speeds it's ~90 days to mars and therefore like. A year to Europa? (Europa Clipper, which is en route right now, will take 5 years but there was a direct trajectory option that would have taken less than 3 years, but I'm imagining in this war scenario we are obviously in a big rush).

so the issue here is is "the resources are too far away from the front and it is likely impossible to get them there even within a *month*" and even if there is a lot of development on Europa by this point, even if food and fuel (everything's nuclear-powered in this setting that's my headcanon and i'm right) and missiles etc can somehow be created there, i cannot imagine that the entire global supply chain is replicated there. they are not building entire rockets on Europa because it's simply too difficult-- some of the materials to make the rockets are created on earth. the whole process can't happen from nothing. there are minerals they don't have and infrastructure they don't have. a self-sufficient colony (which i'm assuming is present) is different from one capable of producing all those weapons and aircraft and so on. and people, of course. no reinforcements are coming sooner than a year!

the point is that the self-sufficiency of the Europa colony would be so much more precarious than self-sufficiency on Earth, even if it was built with a lot of redundancy. you need to create food and water and breathable air and then have access to it. if your access to that is cut off somehow you can't create a way to access it again (unlike on Earth where food and water can be obtained from many different places and the air is free.) my first impulse was "the biggest deal on Europa (and on Earth!) must become who has control of the space launch platform! you would inevitably rely a lot on resources from Earth!" but then i realized the travel time is so long it's near-useless. the real biggest deal is running out of stuff. the conflict needs to be over as quickly as possible. you'd have to be SO intentional with it. and you better be really fucking good at predicting what will be needed far ahead of time and then defending it. you can communicate with Earth at light speed (~30-minute delay) but you can't receive anything physical from them without some light-speed technology we don't have yet and i feel we are unlikely to develop anytime soon.

knowing this, i imagine there wouldn't be like, one single electrolysis plant that produces the oxygen because that'd be really vulnerable. there would be a whole lot of them. even though current technology for doing that (decomposing CO2 into oxygen and carbon monoxide) is energy-intensive and expensive and requires rare earth metals.

but now think about how it's not just creating oxygen that would require redundancy, it's every life support process. food, water, ensuring atmospheric pressure, protection from the radiation of space, etc. so something, somewhere, is the bottleneck where there's just a couple targets that could be taken out to prevent continued life on Europa from being possible. of course there is storage but again, how distributed could that be? one storage facility would obviously be disastrous but even 5 is few enough that they could all be destroyed or at least be held by an enemy so you no longer have access to them. so identify which resource is this bottleneck and then defend it like it will be what kills you because it will be. a month ago i wrote some delirious 1am post abt how one of the cool things about a Dyson sphere is denying access to essentially any form of energy to anyone you don't want to have access to it, since basically everything on a planet relies on the light from the star (barring i guess geothermal and nuclear both of which would be impossible to set up without *starting* with something that comes from the light from a star). inescapable death sentence in a way that nothing on Earth really compares to. no one who is not in with you good enough that they are specifically allotted some of the energy produced will live.

tl;dr: Europa is really, really far away and inhospitable, and imo everything about a conflict there would be about that

that's my post you're welcome for utterly missing the point of this meme <3

[kiefbowl]

What about amateur porn or drawn erotica?

"amateur porn" is mostly a marketing term. it's meant to convey an idea that the porn is "homemade." but what stops people from just producing and marketing content that looks like that? especially since the idea has been pushed successfully that this is "more ethical porn." That is capitalism 101 - find a market you aren't capturing, make them a product they'll buy.

Even in the event it's not actually a production by a studio, you cannot verify that the porn you're watching is not a woman in an abusive relationship with a pimp. Boyfriends become pimps all the time. I think people have this idea that pimps are caricatures that pop out of the ground organically and fully formed, like some sort of mythological "bad guy." They don't stop to think that any opportunistic man (or woman) can become a pimp easily by just having access to a vulnerable woman. If someone enjoys porn, I think it's easy and worthwhile for them to have a disconnect between what "real abusers" do and what happens in a mythical porn setting that's more convenient to imagine. Yet do you need to look far to find examples of couples either A) joking how much money they could make if the wife would get on OF B) fighting because the husband wants the wife to get on OF to increase their revenue and she doesn't or C) just flat out admitting the wife is on OF and how much money it brings to the table? Besides the fact that in any one of these situations, this could be a covert marketing tactic by OF working with a couple, but even if it's not...why believe in scenario C that the husband is just some good guy and this is just some normal situation they fell into? The difference between scenario C and a pimp is what? They're being public about it by framing it a certain way? Well if that makes the public normalize it, why wouldn't "real" pimps just take that lead and do the same? My point is that there is no distinction: a man (whether it's a stranger, a friend, a dad, a husband, a boyfriend) exerting control over a woman by making her perform sexual acts for his own profit is a pimp, and I don't see why we should trust the way he frames it publicly, even if he says "I'm just a progressive husband who isn't jealous and loves that my wife shakes ass online for our family" or whatever gets people to go "cool! I will not questions this."

I'm sure you're asking in good faith anon, so this isn't directed specifically at you, but often when porn watchers are engaging in debate about porn, they'll start bringing up things like 'drawn erotica' as if it's some sort of gotcha. To me, it's so revealing how little they care about the arguments presented about the harms of the porn industry because yes, obviously drawn erotica is different than filming real humans having sex. It also reveals some sort of assumed bias that the person presenting objections to porn without appealing to religious morality or puritanical ideas about sex are somehow being deceitful. As if once "victimless porn" is brought up, they'll be unable to lie and their true nature will be revealed because they'll have some thinly veiled excuses about how drawn porn is obviously just as bad, because it's so sexy!

Drawings of people having sex or being naked and sexual are not above criticism in how they replicate harmful ideas about sex, sexuality, and gender - but they also aren't literal forms of violence against real people. So, it's irrelevant to the discussion of vulnerable people being pushed into porn to perform sexual acts against their will to a point of ruination. If someone feels comfortable continuing to watch and masturbate to porn after this has been explained to them, I don't see why any thoughts I have on erotica written or drawn or otherwise really matters. They can't be convinced through that avenue, clearly. They're probably willing to take whatever thread they can pull on to justify their consumption and to assuage their conscience over watching porn. That to me signifies a porn addiction, because even a casual viewer of porn who's never come across any anti-porn arguments knows they can live without porn, knows they don't need to defend it tooth and nail, and will not play stupid about comparisons to real people having sex on film/enacting violence on each other to erotic drawings.

At the end of the day, re: erotica, I would need to take each thing of media in it's own right and judge it for itself (like all film, books, and art). If it replicates pornographic images (i.e. the film language of porn that I take issue with vis-a-vis misogyny and violence against women), then yeah I'm going to have a problem with it. Not because it's sexual, but because it's content is disagreeable to me in that it's misogynistic. The scale for that is going to be sliding - the difference between a causal representation of unexamined gender dynamics and extremely violent CSAM is huge. I don't take issues with people finding, say, mild 18th century drawings titillating as much as I take issues with people acting entitled to violent images as if their masturbation depends on it and they're entitled to masturbate to whatever they want. Why? I masturbate to my imagination all the time. It's literally the easiest and most natural thing to do. If someone can't, it's probably because they're addicted to porn. If desperate poor women being pushed into drugs to continue making porn that becomes increasingly violent doesn't stop someone from watching porn, then maybe I should ask them to get angry at porn for altering their brain so badly. That's how desperate people sound when they have to scrape the bottom of the barrel in the face of facts about violence, poverty, suicide, and abuse.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Raven i’m confused about why Idia had to impliment a spell/tech into Silver, Sebek, & Yuu’s pens & phone. Cause didnt he say moments before that it’s your imagination and you can do anything in a dream, so why would magic even be necessary for a transformation when they’re just using their imagination? Wouldn’t it have made more sense if Idia told the boys to learn to be more creative?

As an artist i was mildly offended, it felt like I was being called not imaginative enough to make art 😅

I don’t think this is a contradiction? 😅

It is an issue of imagination. While you can technically do anything in a dream, it isn’t possible if you fail to visualize it well enough in order to manifest the clothing change, whether you use magic or not. This is the case for Sebek, Silver, Grim, and Yuu (especially Yuu, who doesn't have any magic to begin with). Recall that this is also true when comparing dreamers, even though the dreamers themselves are not using magic to form their dreams. For example, Epel has a ridiculously buff body but retains his face because he lacks the imagination to picture a more congruous face and body. Meanwhile, Rook’s dream is highly detailed, right down to the dates and issues of his celeb magazines, because his imagination is very strong.

Idia can't just tell Silver, Sebek, Grim, and Yuu to "learn to be more creative". That doesn't work irl either. You can't exactly command someone to "be more creative" on the spot and expect that to be effective, can you? They're struggling to remember the details of their usual clothes to conjure them, because that's just not something most people would pay close attention to.

Ortho points out that first year students only recently learned the spell that allows people to change outfits, so in Sebek's case, he hasn't mastered the magic and he lacks the imagination to perfectly replicate the details of his dorm uniform (which doesn't require magic). Both methods failed for him.

Silver indicates that he has yet to master illusion magic as well. It's not clearly stated in the same scene, but I'd think that Silver may also have issues remembering the details of his other outfits, as he is generally a space case and doesn't pay attention to aesthetics.

I should point out that, in Vil's Bloom Broom vignettes, he tells a story about how, in his first year at NRC, paparazzi pursued him and his father. At the time, Vil had not yet mastered clothes changing magic, but he managed to use color-changing magic to alter the color of their outfits and accessories. We similarly see Ace and Deuce practicing color-changing magic on an apple in Floyd's Labwear vignettes. So... it seems to me that first years don't even learn about clothes changing magic until spring of year 1 (around when book 7 starts). By year 2, they may not have even gotten much practice with it, if Silver's testimonial is anything to go by. Them being younger means they have less practice with the spell but also less practice using their imagination in general. Idia, a third year, expects them to be able to pull this off without an issue. "I figure it'd be a snap to visualize." It's easy for HIM to say because he is 1) an experienced third year and 2) he is a nerd used to staring at screens + games; this makes it easier for him to visualize things, but he is setting the bar too high for his juniors.

Idia helps us out by making a spell/app that does the clothes changing for us because we cannot do it by ourselves, and it simply calls attention to us if we wander into a dream in the wrong attire. I imagine that part of it is also just to have a silly magical girl transformation moment of fanservice. Idia explains this in-universe as a specific phrase coded with the spell in order to avoid accidentally triggering it. The words, in this case, are what activates the change.

I’m not sure if I understand the offense…? Idia isn’t technically wrong when he says the others aren’t imaginative enough. The characters are not able to visualize/remember the details of their outfits. As a result, they cannot make it a reality, whether by means or magic or imagination alone.

I’m not sure if it’s the same as saying, “you’re not creative enough to make art”. In the former, it’s more like an issue of recalling information that is already out there. It is like knowing what a shirt is but not being able to remember the materials or how many buttons it has. In the latter, we’re talking about making an illustration or composition from scratch. This draws upon prior knowledge (shading, shapes, lighting, etc.), but is ultimately being used to make something NEW, not recalling something old/already existing.

I can see why maybe the association could be made, since terms like “creativity” and “imagination” are often associated with artistic endeavors. However 💦 they’re not always tied together, depending on the context.

Hope this helps ^^

[bubble-leaves]

Ok so headcanons but hassian.

You got it!

Hassian . . .

- absolutely cannot stand you when he first meets you; you seem to be like every other invasive human that reemerged

- acts coldly toward you, but secretly starts respecting you once you start engaging in Majiri traditions and bringing him gifts

- eventually starts opening up to you after you somehow weasel your way into his daily life

- pretends he's always annoyed by you, but only because you both adapted a dynamic where you're constantly bubbly and he's less than enthused; he clearly loves your attention either way

- can't get his mind off you when he's romanced

- is hesitant to be romantic with you at first, considering his cruel break-up with Tamala in the past. But you gradually let him know that you are nothing like her as you two continue bonding

- wants to learn more about your interests as much as he wants to share his

- wants to learn more about your culture; he secretly takes notes of whatever you can remember about your land and people

- writes secretly in general; little recordings of funny things you say or adorable things you do, a journal to rant about you in, and yes, meaningful poetry about you

- is completely head over heels if you're a proven hunter

- secretly talks with Tau about how crazy you make him feel; Tau doesn't say much (lol)

- values traditional Majiri romance, but also is curious about how humans court someone they admire; he'll ask and try to replicate any of the rituals, if he can

- is characteristically blunt when you explain pieces of your culture; he'll openly express his distaste for certain differences, although he tries to remain respectful

- is obsessed with your touch. Like, severely.

- feels his heart rate spike dramatically if you touch so much as his arm

- isn't reclusive when it comes to reciprocating physical affection; he'll just want your permission, first

- always makes a point to compliment you; it helps him come out of his shell a little and, hey, you look so precious when you light up and thank him

- smiles and laughs at any joke you make, no matter how stupid it is

- LOVES making you laugh; he's not much of a funny guy, so if he just so happens to say something that makes you laugh, he deeply blushes at the sound and chuckles with you

- as the relationship progresses, he feels terribly alone if he doesn't sleep next to you

- appreciates how you treat Tau as your own and likes to hear you talk to him, even if it's in a ridiculous high-pitched voice

- can cook, but mostly prepares proteins, so you'll have to cook the side dishes

- loves when you read to him, especially if it's one of the romance novels he's read a million times; hearing the stories told in your voice makes his heart rush all over again

- sleeps the best when he's on his back, holding you close with one arm and Tau in the other

- will sometimes not let you get up if you're spooning in the early morning; he will sleepily yet playfully tell you that you're not going anywhere until the sun comes up