#thank you so so much for the questions hedone!!!!

[echoes-lighthouse]

*Jumps in* ECHO!!!! Love the helluva boss/ Hazbin hotel si, saw the new fos. What was your thought process for your si? I really like them so far. Also could you tell me about Octavia? How did you and her met and how does your relationship work?

Thank you!!! I'm having a lot of fun developing the selfships so far!

My s/i was made for my selfship with Stolas, originally: I just really felt like I wanted to spend more time with him after I finished the show, and although he wasn't my main blorbo from the canon content, he was the one that I wanted to make a self-insert for.

I thought about a fwb friendship for .5 seconds, but I pretty solidly headcanon Stolas as a gay who would specifically not be interested in my body type, and I'm not overly interested in him in a sexy way, so I chucked that idea. I was still interested in his relationship with kink, and things came together from there!

I think the perk of the 'professional dominatrix with a nonsexual working relationship' dynamic is that it really leaves space for Blitzx in the world: they cover very different territory for Stolas, and I didn't really want to get in between that relationship with my selfship.

On the kiddo side:

I met Octavia about a year into knowing Stolas, when she was sixteen. Stolas had started talking about her when we were having coffee and debriefs, and I knew she was having a bit of a rough time. I was curious about her, and she was that teenaged mix of dubious and wanting to share her interests. She reminded me a lot of my own teen years, of course.

We were on peripheral friendly terms until Stolas got with Blitzx, and then we kind of bonded over complaining about their relationship. I had an absolute go at Stolas about his treatment of Octavia a couple months into the Blitzx arrangement and I think that cinched the two of us as a team.

I help with getting her out of the house during the divorce proceedings: we like to go shopping together at the antique markets and oddities shops. I'm definitely not a full parent figure, but I think as she grows up I'm kind of an adoptive auntie to her, there for some advice and listening to her new musical interests.

#love my kiddos!!!! #secrets of the stars #me @ stolas: you have GOT to stop talking about blitzx's dick around your daughter #for the nine circles' sake you absolute sexaddled idiot #yeah i'm spelling it blitzx because i'm not copy/pasting the o-slash every time i'm on my laptop #thank you so so much for the questions hedone!!!! #my kiddos #ughhhh i don't want to tag this with their ship name because i don't want it in the tag but also it's good for filters #ask to tag #i'll tag them in future if anyone wants it #you can also block my stolas tag to avoid it because i'll probably talk a fair amount about blitzx #hellaverse s/i

[fatguarddog]

You're the heir to the royal family of a kingdom besieged by demons and during a surrender, are offered up to one of the Demon Lords as a prize of battle. Don't worry, he assures you with a warm yet devious smile, you'll soon 'grow' to love your new life with him

You're taken back to his manor and draped in a lavish, yet skimpy outfit, one that really shows off your body and highlights the slight curves of your features. Your new Lord sits you down at a huge banquet table and takes his seat across from you. All manner of succulent and delicious foods are lined up before you, you take a moment to really take in the size of this hulking, handsome demon and assume he must eat like a beast. But when his impish servants are done setting the table, he just brings his elbows onto the table to rest his head in his hands. He smiles at you,

"You've nothing to fear. Eat."

His voice is so commanding. Nervously, you load up your plate with foods that seem the most familiar to you. Roast chicken, potatoes, various vegetables and a bread roll. It's delicious. With the effect the war has had on your kingdom, you can't remember the last time event he royal family could assemble such a sumptuous selection to feast upon... so you end up forgetting yourself a little and eating until you're quite stuffed. You lean back in your chair and graciously thank your Lord for the meal, shyly paying your compliments to the chef

"Good," he smiles wider and snaps his fingers. "Eat."

A surge of warmth courses through your body. With some demonic intervention, everything you'e just eaten rapidly digests within you and you feel hungry again. Your frame even grows a little bit softer, though not enough for you to notice just yet. You blush and oblige his order, you brain trying to rationalise what's happening. A display of dominance, perhaps? Or did he notice how much you were enjoying the food after having had so little for so long and just wanted you to get to enjoy that more? Was something bad coming after this, or was he actually a good demon somehow?

All of your questions seemed to melt away as you dug in to the feast again, this time trying the honey roasted ham, sweet fruits, leg shank and more. Once again you eat until you feel completely stuffed. Once again you thank your Lord for such a wonderful meal... and once again he smiles at you with fiery eyes from across the table, his own plate still empty and untouched,

"Good," another snap of his fingers. "Eat."

That familiar surge of warmth strikes again, but this time you notice how much plumper you look after, especially in your skimpy clothes. You look up at your Lord in shock and confusion, but he just gestures to the food in front of him. You timidly shake your head, yet your stomach growls audibly in the large dining hall

"Perhaps you'd be more in the mood for wine and cheese?" the demon snaps and the feast before you changes to a decadent cheese plate with crackers and dried meats abound. "Or would my royal prize prefer dessert?" Another snap and the table becomes stacked with cakes, pies and pastries alongside jugs filled with custards and creams, all so sweetly mouth watering The look of disbelief doesn't leave your face. Your stomach growls louder, more painfully as your owner laughs

"Better not to ignore your hunger, my dear. It'll be much more pleasurable for you if you just. Eat."

The command rings through you and sends shivers down your spine, you want nothing more than to stuff your face with every dessert in sight. Your hands reach forward greedily and you begin to eat your fill as your Lord looks on, almost lovingly at you

"So good, so obedient, I'm going to like you a lot," he stands and gently makes his way all around the table to your side, his towering form standing behind you, gently rubbing your now slightly pudgy shoulders. "I'll spoil you so much, feast after feast, night after night of pure pleasure to make you into the perfectly fattened up image of hedonism," his hands feels so good and warm on your soft skin as you gorge yourself. "Just think how demoralising it'll be for your kingdom, to see how easily their royal heir fell to demonic corruption... but I must say from a personal standpoint, I do just think you look so beautiful enjoying yourself like this. I'll have a bath ready for us after I think you're done here, there we can really relax and get to know each other, my dear. But for now, please keep eating. I told you you would grow to love it here."

#hutch posts #ok this got away from me but hoo boy #demons #weight gain #magical weight gain #rapid weight gain #stuffing #wg fiction #wg story #queer feedism #queer feedist #corruption kink

[divinehedons]

lost and found

pairing: soft dom!joel miller x f!reader

word count: ~4k

summary: your arrangement with joel miller is built on mutual trust. what happens when, in the throes of hedonism, he himself breaks that trust?

warnings: this is a dark, EXPLICIT fic, minors do not interact! no outbreak au, so many unrequited feelings, angsty angst angst angst, explicit p-in-v sex, dubious consent, use of a safeword, teeth-rotting aftercare and fluff, brief use of a sex toy, bath sex, brief depiction of make-up sex, somewhat (definitely) blasphemous and makes a mocking of religion (i'm not sorry :>>>>)

note: thank you very dearly for reading! please let me know what you think and what you see next; asks are very much welcome, reblogs and comments are much appreciated!

“See, this is why you need me, sweet girl. Because otherwise, who’s goin’ to make you feel this good?”

It was those words that follow you every day since you’ve begun such a tumultuous connection with the Texan contractor. Those words that stayed with you when you woke up from his tongue between your legs after the first night you fucked together. The words that stayed together when you made an arrangement. When you finally submitted to him.

You meet him in a shared apartment, in darkness, as well-put as could be from a day of work, kneeling with your wrists presented before you. By the end of the night, moments before he drops you off, he looks over your smeared lipstick, your neck littered with blood-red hickeys of his doing, wrists red. He'd look you over, then he'd smirk, waiting for you to turn back and wave goodbye. Only then will he have the last word. "See you next week, darlin'."

–

You met him at trivia night, glasses on, glass of whisky in hand, mere purveyor to the chaos you were causing. You, who he noticed to be naturally shy, sipping away at some colorful drink the weeks before, standing actively on your toes as you excitedly whisper the answer to a question. He saw, too, how happy you got, jumping on your feet when your little band of three pulls ahead in the game. But what caught his attention was how good you are. How you immediately sat down when your team asks you to, how you willingly go for drinks at the bar, not five feet from where he sat, emanating warmth from excitement.

You were so goddamn willing, he had to adjust himself once or twice, pictures of your submission burnt into the crevices of his brain. So when he had the chance, he had to take it.

“How did’ya know so much about the sixties, sugar?” he asked as you squeezed into the seat beside him, barely managing to steal it from the crowded bar. When you looked at him, he swore he almost saw your eyes gloss over from shyness. You just had to be adorable.

 “Oh! Well… I spent a lot of time with my grandparents.” You look down, fiddling with your drink before chuckling. “I didn’t know we were getting so much attention.” He swore he almost felt his cock twitch in his pants. Already, you were being so good, he physically had to swallow down the images of you happily bent over his desk with the rest of his whisky, throat burning be damned.

He realized, quite easily, that if he wanted you, he was going to have to be creative about it. And if he really wanted you, he had to put the effort in showing you he could be trusted; that he’ll take care of you. So he smiles, a calm smirk accompanying his salt-and-pepper beard, the warm crinkles in his eyes as he stills himself. He takes a deep breath, and it becomes so easy.

The night ends with you pressed against the door of your apartment, panties pushed to the side as he breathes whiskey into your face while you chuckle nervously. “D’you want it, sugar? C’mon, I need some words…” He almost wished he could take a photo of your face the moment he spears you open with his aching cock, cunt already fucked out by his fingers during the feverish truck drive where you almost get him lost from hazy directions.

He teaches you your safe words that night. An analogy of stoplights– halting reds, questioning yellows, and bright green gos.

He constantly checks in, and all you tell him is to go, go, go.

–

He likes it when you call him sir, a remnant of his Southern manners. Your cheeks warm up whenever you say it. He noticed when he had begun to cup your face, asking you to tell him what you wanted.

Just you, sir. All you, please…

He’s so indulgent about it, so eager to give you the pleasure you so desperately wanted without saying anything. But sometimes, that primal urge to own you manifests itself, as well. He particularly enjoyed the act of overstimulation. Just the sight of you, cockdumb and broken, limbs trembling from the way he manipulated the pleasure from your body… how could he ever resist? It’s why he was so willing to split an apartment with you; one meant for your excursions and hedonistic urges; the house of desire itself with a king-sized bed and a hot tub to defile.

You were chaos and innocence all in one, sweet like honey and sudden like the weather. Incomprehensible, unique you. Simply put, he enjoyed you. And the fact that you belonged to him will never stop getting him hard just from the mere thought of it. He started thinking he finally understood what it meant to be enthralled by someone. When you open your mouth wide, tongue extended and waiting for any shred of him to swallow, when you lay on his chest post-coitus with the sated nature of a feral cat, when he sees your perfect lipstick, waiting to be ruined by kisses.

Of course he’s insatiable. He will always keep wanting more. Perhaps it was that insatiability that led to that storming night.

–

He should’ve noticed when he opened the door and you were looking out of the window, eerily quiet, with the weight of the world on your shoulders. He drops the keys on the dining table, crossing his way to you, hands wrapping around your waist as he kisses your exposed shoulder teasingly. 

“Let me take your mind off of it, darlin’,” he whispers, and you feign a giggle at the way his beard prickles your skin. “Had a tough day, didn’t ya?” You look to him as if you were about to confess something, say something and break your usual submissive silence. But you catch his eye and you melt further into his touch instead as you sigh softly.

“Just missed you a little too much, sir…”

It satisfies him. It feeds his ego. But just in case… “Give me a colour, pretty baby. S’alright…”

You gulp, feeling your fingers turn cold as you process your thoughts. With a sigh, you press a kiss to his jaw.

“Green, sir.”

The word barely leaves your lips before he’s kissing you, swallowing down your soft whimpers as his strong arms take you, carrying you to the bedroom with renewed urge and desire. Settling you down on fresh sheets, he peers over your pretty little sundress, your perfect little face, chuckling at the shyness washing over you in the low lamplight. He kisses you again, insatiable hands tearing open your dress as your breath hitches, He does not stop, pressing wanton kisses down your collarbone, your breast, your stomach, spreading your legs so he can settle right between them.

“Y’wanna tell me why you weren’t answering my calls, darlin’?”

You try not imagine the panic you must have caused him for that very reason. The fact that you left him a message at three in the afternoon, I need to see you, sir. Only to have your phone switched off. There is probably a barrage of messages and missed calls. But seeing you here, he finally seems to settle. He seems to ignore your creased forehead, your shaky breaths.

“My phone died… I- I’m sorry…” He shushes you, kissing you again and running his thumb over your painted lips with a smile. “I just missed you, sir.”

You notice his eyes darkening, hands traveling down the expanse of your stomach, embracing and caressing each curve before his right hand completely cups your wanton cunt, willing and warm to the touch. “I think I can do somethin’ about that.” He pushes your underwear aside, two fingers delving into the soft, sticky warmth of your desire, spreading you open just for him. He periodically asks for your status, a colour to confirm your consent. You see it as a way of him asking if he could do the things he was already doing.

Green for the fingers already spreading you open. Green to take off the dress he had already torn off. Green to mark up the neck that already bore the wetness of his saliva.

“How was trivia night last night, sugar? I couldn’t get out of work soon enough to catch you there…” You manage a soft chuckle, now embracing him with a breathy kiss. “Although, I believe I heard from Clark that you did well enough, no?”

Your soft giggles melt against the skin of his jaw, your shaky breaths stuttering as you hear the clink of his belt buckle and the shuffling of his jeans. “Good old nineties, sir,” you murmur. “Your playlist was sufficient enough of a reviewer to carry me through.” It’s his turn to chuckle, cupping your face and peering down at you as he affectionately pinches the apple of your cheek with a sigh.

“One more ‘old man’ quip out of you and you’ll be askin’ for a punishment, li’l girl.”

You manage a soft smile. You like it when he cares. You like him like this. But just as easily as it came, the softness soon disappears as he returns to working the clothes off of your body, looking over the way your skin is void of the markings he left the last time he had you. You try to comprehend the secrets between his furrowed brow, the mutterings you try to hear in the semi-darkness. He always had a way of keeping that same professional barrier between the two of you, a barrier that you never know where it truly stood. A barrier of multiple dimensions. A barrier that was the sole purpose why you never confessed you stopped dating ever since he came into your life.

You remember the time you almost did. You had called him one evening, dressed up in the same apartment, bottle of wine chilled, rose petals all over the sheets. You told him you wanted to see him. You didn’t expect the ease that came with his rebuttal. Can’t tonight, darlin’, I have a lady friend keepin’ me company. How ‘bout Friday? You pretend, as you find yourself doing more and more often. You tell him to have a nice evening. You drink an entire bottle of wine by yourself. You dispose of the rose petals and ensure you left no traces by morning.

Looking at him now, he still remains cool, professional, boundaries locked and loaded between your bodies even when he presses the bulbous tip of a vibrator directly over where you need him most, firing it up the moment you said green. He told you once he loved the way you squealed for him, that it makes his chest bubble with incomprehensible glee knowing he could drive such noises from you, that shy little vixen that knelt for him when he said the word and opened her mouth wide. Maybe that’s why he always enjoyed pushing you to your limits.

Maybe that’s what he wanted to do now.

And you had to admit, you were willing to let him try.

The vibration jostles through your flesh, shaking awake your tendons. The initial shock sent your legs flailing, spreading, and eventually welcoming the affection. “That’s it… let me in, baby…”

Your cries emanate as the shock of the first orgasm shakes through your completely naked body, brushing against the course fabric of his jeans, his small snicker leaving him before he could stop it. “‘Course you’re so easy, pretty lady.” You feel your cheeks warm up at his words, looking into his eyes as he raises a brow, as if waiting for you to give him his dues.

It’s when you return to yourself, blinking away the haze in your head as you tilt your head back. “Thank you, sir… oh, oh– thank you!” When you look back, you see him through the mist in your vision, see that slow, cocky smirk encompassing his features. He likes this. He likes the way you’re absolutely fucked out like this.

The buzzing stops, and you blink awake shakily up at him. He leans down to kiss you gently, sighing as you come down from your orgasmic bliss. “How are we feelin’, baby doll?”

You grin up at him. Green, green, green.

He looks down at you, with that shit-eating grin on your face that you always have when you’re brimming with excitement and ready to burst. He tries to read your eyes just as you grow shy, turning over to embrace the pillow you lay on. What should he do when the prettiest girl in the world says “green” so voraciously?

There was only one answer. He can only go, go, go.

–

Joel Miller rarely calls anything heaven. He rarely finds anything that is so divine that he can surrender so easily in worship. And if he does, it’s even rarer that he is driven by anything so much as to take divinity into his own hands. But with you… he swore he finally saw the face of God. And it was dangerous. It was dangerous because it had awakened an arcane starvation that almost harkens back to his own primordial longings.

You tell him green, but if he was capable of confession, if he was more vulnerable to you… he’d confess that he’d gone blind, his senses dulled and only drawn to one thing and one thing only: and it was to take and take from you.

That was why he fucks you wide open with his cock, your walls trembling with the first sign of overstimulation. He sees the first sign of your hesitation and he barely stops himself to look you in the eye to say your status. You barely manage to tell him green, with a tone of hesitation, and he immediately pummels his hardness into your aching cunt, embracing you in his tense arms, growling into your ear as you feel his lips sucking a brand new hickey at the very crook of your neck. 

If he was confessing, he would say all he saw was the red of his blood pumping through his brain. It is only a few seconds later that he finally hears that shy, trembling voice of yours, echoing like a hysterical cry that tears through his defences. It is the words you had never uttered in these moments before now.

“Red, red, red!”

Immediately, Joel flies apart from you like shrapnel, blinking his eyes open just in time to see your grief-stricken face, splotchy from tears as you curl up in the upper middle of the large bed. From here, he finally sees the aftermath of his mindless fucking. His fingertips marking your skin, lovebite blood red and raging just as you peer up at him with eyes lit up with an emotion he had never seen before. You had never stared at him with that much fear before.

He attempts to reach for you, only to be frozen in his tracks the moment you flinched further upwards against the mattress. His blood runs cold when he hears your words. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, sir–”

Had he been that absolutely careless over you— precious, darling you that entrusted herself so fully to him? Had he been that selfish, so enthralled by the callings of his own flesh? This is the price he had to pay for tasting divinity— he just had to ruin you for it. He slowly recedes, heart thumping in his chest as he tucks himself back into his pants, keeping his hands visible for you, your watchful eyes never blinking away from you.

“It’s alright, darlin’. It’s alright. We’ve stopped.” Gently, he helps, carefully handing you a dressing robe to regain some form of second skin. He ascertains that his bare hands does not brush against you, not unless you ask him to. Not unless you wanted it. He did not deserve such a privilege, not after what he’s done. Not after how he broke your trust.

He shakes away the thoughts and self-doubt from the recesses of his brain. You do not need his remorse. What you needed was to be taken care of. What you needed was him to fulfill the role he had promised you from the very start of your… partnership. Whatever it was you had. The minutes pass in the silence. The apartment is silent, except for your shaky breaths as he waits for you to calm down.

“Sugar…” your bright doe eyes look to him, reddened slightly by tears before softening, your hands slowly moving to reach for him. He stops himself. “What do you want me to do, doll?”

You finally find the voice to speak again. “Just hold me… please.” Joel gently settles by your side, embracing you as you hide your face into his bare chest. With how close you press yourself to him, you feel the pounding of his chest. You feel your skin prickle, looking up into his eyes in soft, comfortable silence. “It’s like you couldn’t see me anymore when… when…”

He hears your breath hitch and he gently shushes you, carefully pressing kisses to the crown of your head. “Why did you apologize, sugar?”

It's difficult to comprehend feelings in an agreement that is supposedly devoid of them. It's difficult to reflect when you think you know every possibility when you say the truth and nothing but the truth. But you know, too, that you cannot solve the breaking of one’s trust, yours in this case, with the breaking of others’ trust. So you swallow, gather your thoughts.

“You’ve… you always made it feel like it’s my… my privilege to feel so good and… and…” you sniffle, burying your face against him once more as you sigh. “I feel guilty for… for having to—asking to—stop.” You feel his breath still, and you tug him closer out of guilt. It’s as if the motion gently shakes him awake and he embraces you, pressing careful kisses where he was able to.

“That was never my intention, darlin’...” He gently maneuvers you, just enough so you had to look into his eyes— those soft, warm eyes that looked at you the night you met in the bar. “I should be sorry, and I am. God, doll… we built this… us… we built it on the idea that we entrust each other with our… vulnerabilities, and that those vulnerabilities aren’t exploited.” He cups your face, the way he always does, but his touch his careful, the way one grasps precious. “You trusted me, sugar, and I’ve been reckless with my pretty girl. I’m so sorry.”

He barely finishes the last word before you’re kissing him, arms wrapping around him in comfortable silence as he cradles you, lets you indulge until you are the first to pull away. “Let me make it up to you, yeah?” he whispers, the prickle of his beard against your jaw enough to make you giggle. “How does a bath sound?” You manage a small nod, winding down from the events of the evening as he cradles you, gently bringing you to the bathroom and seating you on the nearest counter as he leans over to prepare the warm bath, head turned away from you with a sigh.

The confession lays heavy on your lips. The confession that you’re falling for him, eyes closed, no turning back. You’re in love with him, but you think in telling him, you risk losing this… having him in the soft silences where you can be vulnerable for him and only for him. You tell him, and you picture the nights alone, guarding yourself and knowing happiness shall not exist anymore for you. Not in this lifetime.

“Do you want me to give you some privacy?”

You look to him in silence before taking a deep breath, shaking your head before biting your lip. “Stay with me,” you whisper, looking down at your feet as he settles before you. “Please don’t go too far from me.”

It’s how the two of you end up, with you on his lap, the warm water encompassing the two of you as  gently scrubs through your back with slow, careful circles. “Promise me something,” he says, breaking the silence as he carefully pulls you closer to him. “Never ever think you cannot say no to me ever again.” Your head rears to look into his eyes and he couldn’t help but chuckle, kissing your cheek lovingly. “I’d rather have your scorn than seein’ you afraid of me, darlin’.”

You promise him. As if you would deprive him of anything ever again. As if you could bear the way you saw his heart break from your reaction earlier that evening. As if you could bear the sight of him pulling away from you ever again. If it meant keeping him this close to you for some time more—be it a day, another evening, another month, another year—you’d take everything you can.

The both of you make up shortly thereafter. Joel is half-surprised to see you crawling on top of him, facing him as you ask him. He groans at the feel of your nails digging down into the back of his neck as you fuck yourself on him. He lets you take what you want. As if he can deprive you of anything, be it affection or debauchery. He takes you by your word when you ask him to take you to bed— and he makes love to you in the darkness.

You are his God and all the Saints in the body of one mortal. Daisies and thunderstorms and metamorphoses combined. He looks for you in the other people he meets. But they do not have your shyness, your bright smile, nor the complete surrender you offer so willingly to him. He wonders, sometimes, in the darkness, if he will ever find it within himself to cross the boundaries he himself had built. So he tells you he loves you in other ways. When he cradles your face, when he wipes you clean post-coitus, showering your skin with kisses. When he embraces you in his arms when you drift to sleep with a wide, warm smile of peace etched on your face. He whispers it, sometimes, when he kisses your forehead before he leaves, dressed in his clothes from last night.

He’ll rather have you like this. If, by some twist of fate, he loses the presence of your divinity, then he shall forever return to this moment— you on your hands and knees with your back arching into his touch, your warm breath, your trembling breast. Perhaps an eternity, locked together this way, is the closest to heaven he will ever come across. And should he face damnation, flailed and torn apart by hail at the second circle of hell, he shall regret nothing. Should he be offered salvation in exchange of forgetting you, he shall spit at the face of God with a smile. He’d tell Him he’ll do it all over again.

---

A/N: this is the part where i say sorry for letting my current reads and whatnot influence what i'm writing. but this is also your sign to read the divine comedy if you want to :'DDD thank you so so so much for reading!!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #dom!joel miller #dom!joel miller x reader

[bambi-kinos]

I have been thinking about this ask since I got it and as to the question of why John treated people the way he did, especially Paul. My take on this situation is that John Lennon was not allowed to grow up by the environment and people he was surrounded by and so he could not envision the future consequences of his actions the way that the average adult can. This with the addition of his constant drug use (which in all likelihood left him with significant brain damage) meant that he could not function the way an adult should.

John actually did have periods of emotional growth where he looked inward, changed, and tried to do better. These moments took place before he got famous, when he was faced with adversity and he rose to meet it.

IMO Hamburg 1960 was such a time. John partied, he found new pills to take, he experimented with kissing and shagging men, he discovered transgender people (and shagged them), and had a lot of ups and downs with his boyfriend(s) and his group. It is easy to dismiss this as mindless hedonism but as a retired hedonist myself (though I never pushed as hard as John did) I will tell you: hedonism can lead to introspection and self knowledge. John really pushed it to its limits and he almost lost Paul because of it but I think the Great Unknown that happened in Hamburg pushed John to actively change. He cleaned himself up a bit especially once Stuart left to be with Astrid. Once he came back to Liverpool (after enduring the trauma of his bandmates being ripped from him, yet another violent separation that no doubt would have left him in an emotional tailspin) he rested, hooked up with Cynthia, and then went looking for Paul knowing that he needed him to make this band thing work. Like, John spent a few weeks in his bedroom not speaking to anyone once he went home. He didn't want to be seen, he wanted to sleep and eat hot food, and think. He was considering whether he should continue with the band or not, if this was really worth it. Which implies there was a precarious moment where John was thinking of just ending The Beatles. He decided that the plan still had merit, ran into George, and then went to fetch Paul. A few months of light groveling and nagging later, Paul was his again. John committed to The Beatles and therefore committed to Paul. Paris was the culmination of this change and John's reward for putting in the work, and from what we can gather, Paul made every inch worth John's while.

The Beatlemania years leading up to Sgt. Pepper and psychedelia. This was period is more like 1961-1965 Shea Stadium. From here it was an upward climb and subsequently the most intense period of his relationship with Paul. I don't think this was just youthful enthusiasm and the flush of a new relationship, I think John was learning and growing as a person thanks to this adversity. He bonded even closer to Paul which resulted in their intimacy deepening; John's songwriting matured and culminated in "Ticket to Ride" which is a brutal self evaluation of his own faults and how he drives his loved ones away from him. You don't write a song like "Ticket to Ride" because you have no idea what it's like for your lover to get fed up with your moodiness and leave you. John was much more self aware than he's given credit for. This continued onward, them thinking they've reached the summit only to find there's a new height to climb. John said something to the effect of "I saw the top of the mountain" as a result of the first Shea concert. (They would do a second Shea concert in 1966.) That was when he realized that The Beatles were it and that they were not vacating the number one spot any time soon. What else was there to strive for?

And I think after that, a lot of John's emotional development kind of...stopped. Or was held up. Or slowed down to a snail's pace, whichever you prefer. The LSD had a hand in this, tripping constantly takes a lot out of you. Yesterday played its part, John emotionally retreated out of fear of losing Paul (which of course ensured that he lost Paul forever). Success becomes your enemy sometimes; John had so much success that he no longer had to face adversity, no longer had to grow because everything he wanted was on tap. As someone somewhere said, fame ruined the Beatles in this way.

That's the crux of it, I think. He just stopped maturing. It was childish the way he slagged off Paul -- not just Paul but other people as well. Sean said that John spent the rest of his life apologizing to everyone he ran into because of Lennon Remembers, which implies he burned a lot of bridges with that one. John had a habit of doing that and his fame as a Beatle enabled him to do it without consequences. No one was willing to stand up to him so he didn't get to learn a pattern of "don't do this or else this will happen." He was mentally damaged from his drug usage and I also wonder if he had a genuine learning disability of some kind because he simply could not make the connection between cause/effect: "If I do X then Y might happen so I shouldn't do X." His mother was not a drug user like John but she exhibited many of the same behaviors he did. Namely the "inability to visualize consequences" thing.

John did care about Paul, especially when it was starting out. I think the love was pure then because his mental aesthetic of who and what Paul was had not yet been distorted. John knew who Paul was, he knew who John Lennon was, they were in love and everything was possible.

But then John's untreated mental illness begins to take its toll, he's self medicating with drugs which does more harm than good, his mental aesthetic of Paul distorts more and more because Paul will not let him in. The media did this to John too, all of them reporting on how cool Paul was and how amazing Yesterday is and John is shitting himself internally because he can feel the split already forming between them musically. John is unable to stop himself from manipulating Paul in response, which is a bad move because Paul is the ultimate contrarian and bolts in response. Which sends John into deeper panic etc. And oh yes, the entire world is watching them while this happens and nitpicking their every move. We live in the age of social media, we know what this is like.

Over time that love became mixed in with anger and resentment. John could not tell fantasy from reality. He did what he always does and he imagined something, tricked himself into believing it, and then got mad about something that didn't exist. If he did reach out to Paul then Paul responded badly, which understandably devastated John's feelings.

When you show someone your real feelings and they dismiss you or trivialize your vulnerability because they want to Win At Being Right...your relationship crumbles with that person. A common bug in Paul's relationships is that he needs to Win At Being Right even at the expense of people loving him. We don't know this for sure but I'm convinced he did this to John plenty of times. Frankly, a relationship cannot survive that behavior. Lack of mutual respect kills marriages all the time. I absolutely believe that Paul disrespected John and trivialized his feelings (even if by accident) and that this caused John to become bitter over time since Paul took him for granted. Who wouldn't become bitter under those circumstances?

This is how they got into the "fuck you/no, please, fuck you/no no no fuck YOU/I absolutely insist, you must go fuck yourself" cycle. Which John really just expanded on during the 1970s with his bitching about Paul, it was just another level of the "fuck you bitch" cycle that started between them with Yesterday. And John's immaturity and brain damage from drug usage and his inability to understand consequences meant that he didn't fully comprehend what he was doing. He didn't want to think that Paul was vulnerable because Paul had rejected John's vulnerability. He didn't want to imagine he was hurting Paul deeply because Paul had hurt him deeply. He wanted revenge on Paul more than he wanted to keep his relationship with Paul because he thought Paul wouldn't be too damaged by it. I think John had gotten comfortable with the idea that no matter what he threw at Paul, Paul would not only survive it but that he'd rub John's face in it. I don't think John ever considered the idea that he could actually succeed in what he was doing, he never imagined that he would actually win the argument and that he would damage Paul's image and John's relationship with Paul forever. That sense of "I'll lose no matter what" enabled him to act out however he wanted because it wasn't like any of it would matter anyway, right? Paul can survive anything. He's invincible.

Right?

John did love Paul, I believe that. I think he loved Paul deeply and sincerely. I think if he actually understood what Paul was thinking and feeling then John would have changed tactics immediately or even stopped what he was doing. But John's drug usage, years of slights and disrespect from Paul, being unable to visualize consequences, and immaturity caused him to act out in a childish way. He stopped listening to Paul and started listening to his resentments and grudges. Lashing out at Paul was the only outlet he had and John didn't know how to do anything else. He had no incentive to learn otherwise and grow up, deal with Paul on adult terms.

Funnily enough I think it's actually losing George that finally set something into motion inside John. Like, George cut John off, an extremely big deal. In my neck of the woods its called "severing" and its probably the most difficult thing you can possibly do with any sort of relationship. George ignored John; he cut John out of his autobiography; he stopped talking to John; he did not mention him in public. He knew this was the most brutal punishment he could devise for John Lennon and it worked. John wrote "lost" by George's name in the word association game. John went too far bitching about Bob Dylan and not apologizing for hanging George out to dry. George had enough and did the right thing. He severed his relationship with John because John was toxic and dragged George down. Of all the people in John's life, George is the one who willingly served consequences to John when he was surrounded by enablers and errand boys.

That, more than anything, seems to be what set John on the back foot. I sincerely believe that George cutting him off forced John to do some introspection and that is part of what he was doing in the Dakota after Sean was born. Asking himself what he did to make George cut him off; and then John slowly started to grow and mature again. Because you see, George provided what Paul couldn't: he gave John adversity to meet, which forced John to grow as a person. And so we got the song "Woman" which is not just about the women in John's life but is also a letter to all the people he hurt with his thoughtlessness and immaturity, where he finally starts taking responsibility for his actions:

I can hardly express, My mixed emotion at my thoughtlessness, After all I'm forever in your debt,

I will try to express, My inner feelings and thankfulness, For showing me the meaning of success,

hold me close to your heart, However distant don't keep us apart, After all it is written in the stars,

please let me explain, I never meant to cause you sorrow or pain, So let me tell you again and again and again,

It's on par with "Ticket to Ride" and "I Know, I Know" in John showing introspection and discussing his own flaws. Something that he notably was not doing during his peak "fuck you Paul" era.

John loved Paul but also resented him due to their circumstances. He wanted to hurt Paul but didn't think he could actually do so because his mental aesthetic of Paul was so viciously distorted. He dehumanized Paul by putting him on a pedestal, made him an object John could degrade at a moment's notice to make himself feel better. You can do that to objects without consequences; when you do it to people, you get pushback.

Losing George and Paul keeping him at a distance for years is what made John finally realize that he had hurt them and that he could hurt them to the point that he would never see them again. It took years of self examination for John to come to this realization which indicates how disordered and muddy his thinking was.

#john lennon #paul mccartney #george harrison #mclennon #my meta #beatles meta #the beatles #talktalktalk

[weird-an]

“Can you help me with this zipper?” Argilly >:)

Billy is a little shit. He has been trying to get in Argyle's pants ever since they moved together three months ago. Has been batting his eyelashes at him, walking through the apartment butt naked, claiming to have forgotten his towel, telling Argyle how flexible he is, how much he can take.

And Argyle is tempted.

It's just that Billy never dates. Fucks a lot, always different men, never the same. Laughed at Argyle's question if he ever wanted to commit with that much self disdain it made Argyle sick.

The problem isn't that Argyle doesn't want to fuck Billy. The problem is that he wants to hold his best friend too, that he wants to make him breakfast, make him feel good and that he wants to keep him.

Only Billy is making it hard for him. Argyle lost count how many times he had jerked off with Billy on his mind - and next door.

Today is even more of a challenge. Billy still wears his dirty jeans from work and no shirt. He is showing off his chest, a few golden curls growing on his pecs.

"Argyle!" He grins at him like a cat that's getting its cream.

"Can you help me with this zipper?" he asks, sounding almost bored. "It's stuck and I need to get ready for my date."

Yeah. Those dates when Billy brings home broad men with black hair that probably treat him like shit and still make him moan like a whore. Sometimes he yells Argyle's name so loud, it's embarrassing.

"You can't be serious, my dude." Argyle shakes his head.

"Please," Billy says. "Help a guy out."

Argyle bites his lip, because he remembers the first week of living together when he told Billy that if he wanted something he'd have to say please like a good boy.

He leans forward, pulls the zipper down with ease - and he sees the glint in Billy's eyes too late. It's a trap and he should have known better, but you can't blame a guy for getting distracted by Billy's abs. It's only natural.

Billy is going commando. Always does, like he mentioned many times. He's half hard, cock a little red.

"Like what you see?" he asks with faux innocence - but Billy Hargrove has been a lot of things in his life and innocent isn't the word Argyle would choose.

"Pretty," Argyle says, because Billy is pretty and his dick is, too.

Billy's cheeks turn pink, maybe not the answer he had been looking for. Maybe Argyle can turn them a bit redder. He should probably let go, but he's always been one for a good ounce of hedonism.

"Shouldn't you thank me?" His thumb presses against Billy's dick. Billy's hands tremble. "For helping you?"

He lets go, unable to avert his gaze from the glistening tip.

Billy tugs at the waistband of his green sweatpants, hungry and impatient. He pulls his pants down and only when the cold air hits his skin, Argyle realizes he's hard himself.

Billy sinks on his knees, licking his lips. His pupils are black holes, eating up the bright blue of his iris and Argyle feels like he's smoked too much.

He wraps his lips around Argyle's cock, tongue teasing the slit.

Argyle groans, pleasure growing inside him, hot and electrifying. He bucks his hips forward.

Billy struggles a little to take all off him, spit running down the corner of his mouth. Argyle pauses, waits until Billy relaxes around him.

He strokes Billy's cheek, feeling the muscles work underneath there. He's moving a little, until Billy swallows his length whole, lips stretched wide. Billy's nose rests against the base of his cock, blond curls against his black ones.

He begins to bop his head back and forth. Argyle's groaning, can't help but to tell Billy how good he is, how beautiful, how perfect. He feels Billy shuddering with every word, but never stopping to twirl his tongue around Argyle's dick. It's addicting and Argyle can't be one of the guys Billy takes home and never speaks to again.

Argyle tugs Billy's hair, pulls him off his cock.

"This isn't a one time thing," he says, more a statement than a question. He can't let it be.

Billy blinks at him, gaze glassy and lips swollen.

"It isn't," he agrees hoarsely.

Something inside Argyle untwists. Like when he's had a long day and takes the first puff of a joint. Only Billy is better than any drug he has ever taken.

Argyle feeds him his cock again. Watches Billy's throat convulse around him, can't hold back anymore. He's fucking his mouth, sharp, impatient thrusts.

Billy's wet warmth and the thought that Billy is his, that none of these guys can ever touch him again, push Argyle over the edge.

He comes hard, his orgasm shooting him into foreign galaxies where all the stars have the colors of Billy's eyes.

He's riding out the high, fucking lazily into Billy's mouth, hand still buried in the blond mullet.

"Let me take care of you," Argyle says. He pushes a bit of his come that dribbled out back between Billy's lips. Billy sucks on his fingers, before letting go with a wet pop. "You've been so good."

"That's..." Billy clears his throat, face red. Argyle looks down. Milky release runs down Billy's tanned stomach, his cock softening against his jeans, still not pulled down.

"You can go again, right? A really good boy." Argyle grins. "Wanna hear you scream my name for me for once. "

"Always screamed it for you," Billy admits.

"I know."

#argyle literally says the words good boy in the show so how could I not? #billy grew so desperate he had to make up the dumbest excuse #i didn't expect anyone to send me an argilly prompt #i wanna hug you anon! #argilly #billy hargrove #argyle #argyle and billy #billy hargrove & argyle

[gentle-voluptuary]

Just read that amazing post of yours. Thank you for that. As someone who has only dipped their toes into the dangerous waters of "coming out" about feedism irl, and who is very aware of the pathologization of kink in general, I have a question...

pathologization in the sense of saying "those kinksters are mentally ill and what they're doing it sick and wrong!" is obviously problematic. But how do we stop internally pathologizing ourselves? Like, to me it's pretty obvious that my fat fetish comes from being obese as a kid and getting bullied about it. Insert long explanation of how I'm SURE that's where it comes from. How did I stop thinking "this is just a shameful result of my trauma that I can't shake", start accepting it as something that's part of myself (even when I'm not horny)? How do I share it with a partner without fear of them judging me and just deep diving into what's wrong with me mentally, when I just wanna be able to have fun with a kink that's turned out to be my main thing after a few decades of checking in?

Thank you for the kind words and, more importantly, thank you for bringing such a sensitive and intimate question to a stranger - I hope I can do it justice.

Firstly, I just want to say how much I resonate with your question even if our lived experiences behind it are different. In a previous relationship, I was with someone who really didn't have a lot of space for complex conversations that involved shame, particularly as it related to sex. I saw very quickly I could never "come out" to them (as a feedist, or really as queer) and so I bottled put hose parts of myself until they hurt, a lot.

I ended up going to a therapist who I thought would help "fix" the parts of me - like my kinks - that were holding me back from relating to that partner in a deeper way. What we realized was that, while I had tremendous shame around my sexuality (and occasionally still do), I also was with someone who didn't have the capacity to hold both the beauty and the complexities of my sexuality (and especially my kinks) at the same time. I actually feel so grateful that I never came out in that relationship, because I think the blowback would have made me even more traumatized than I already was.

This is the first part of my answer to my question: part of "coming out" in a safe way is being around people who you can genuinely trust and have care and space for complex emotions. I used to operate on the assumption that it was entirely up to me to navigate the coming out process, but since then I see it much more contextually. Obviously the danger thresholds are different, but if you think analogously about coming out as queer: there are places where that is more or less safe for them, no matter how internally healed a person may be. Keeping a clear eye on who and where we are is a big part of the process, and, if you can find the right person or people, you can build comfort in smaller ways (e.g., maybe you just tell someone you're kinky without giving any details) with safe people, and that helps you build the muscle you want to use later.

The second part of my answer is the both the more optimistic part, but also the harder one:

How do we stop pathologizing ourselves? We act gently towards ourselves. It's really (sadly), that simple.

To be more specific, though, I think gentleness is key here because we're dealing with such multi-layered complexity:

Speaking for myself, I have worked hard to acknowledge that all of my kinks are inextricably (though not entirely) linked to traumatic experiences. I am very neurodivergent and have spent my entire life trying to mask and hide who I am to others; is it any wonder that I sexualize the experience of others who unapologetically take up physical, intellectual, and social space? I don't think so. I read my feedist tendencies through a multi-faceted lens: eroticizing the act of unbridled hedonism and personal space-taking since I lacked so much of that in my own early life; eroticizing the physical sensations of fat in a higher-than-typical way since I lack that on my own body; eroticizing the transformation of weight gain as I look on with admiration, and occasional envy, for the transformations of others' genders or personas in public and in private.

My kinks are significantly wedded to those traumas, but I don't think that makes them any less beautiful.

It sounds bizarre, but I think we need to fall in love with our trauma responses in order to access the gentleness to then navigate them in the real world in safe, consensual, and compassionate ways. This doesn't mean we abandon our self preservation and expect others to immediate accept them or us, or that we allow ourselves to let the response dominate how we show up in the world. It simply means we express gratitude to ourselves (and, if you practice parts-related therapeutic modalities, to our younger self) for creating a system that helps protect us. That's all a trauma response is. We never have to be angry at that intention, we just need to decide how much (if at all) we want the behaviours associated with that response to show up and where.

To summarize that, I think you could explore the following, with the caveat that this can be very hard stuff, so, go slowly and gently and notice anytime you feel an internal 'ouch' at a hard question. This is like walking after taking off a caste: slow is fast.

Take time to feel through where and how your traumas inform this (and any other) kink for you (I'm a big fan of journaling for this)

If you have the resources and capacity, find a sex-positive therapist (specifically look for that language) who you can broach the topic with and get professional guidance - I'd specifically ask, via email since it's low-risk, if they are sex-positive, trauma-informed, and believe in fat liberation / social justice around bodies.

Identify ways in which this trauma response (i.e., feedist attraction) has saved you or served you. Has it helped you navigate difficult decisions? Has it helped you stay away from another coping mechanism (drugs, alcohol, self-harm) that might have more adverse consequences for you?

Identify the components of the way in which you feel this desire that cause distress for you. Really try to feel where your distress comes from internally (e.g., do you feel physical discomfort after a stuffing, do you worry that your desires could hurt someone else if fully acted out?) and where distress relates to others' perceptions of you. Try to separate them out (again, I recommend journaling) and see if there are adjustments you could make to mitigate that distress.

Look for ways that your kink can contribute something to the world. I have personally found that feedism, properly expressed, has helped partners shake off some of their own deep traumas related to fatphobic experiences. One time a partner went on a scale in front of me and wept as I came up behind them to nuzzle them as we looked at the numbers; it was the first time in their lives that they'd ever been on a scale that hadn't immediately evoked negative emotions. As I wrote in my essay and I hope to explore more, I think any kink offers opportunities for healing, when it's done right - ask yourself what your kink can do for you and others, and what you'd need in place, personally and in a partner, to do that?

Lastly, and I think you're already doing this since you're here, but try to build community. One partner of mine remarked once that feedism was "the most solitary kink" that she'd ever encountered. Because of the intensity of fat phobia, I think a lot of feedists (myself included) adopt a kind of bunker mentality. We fear not only society at large will hate us, but the very people we are attracted to. That does things to you. I am still learning to recover from hyper vigilance with non-feedist fat partners who I am still not entirely convinced won't turn on me when the fully understand what turns me on, even if those things live purely in the world of fantasy. We need to create space for love and care for one another, and for ourselves, and I think that starts with raising conversations like you have here. :)

Thank you so much for the question, I hope this helps.

#feedist thoughts #meta kink #minorsdni #fat liber #feedistblog #feedist blog #trauma #long post

[1800titz]

As a very dedicated TDIAG reader, I have questions. We have learned about Isla’s ex dominants and her experience and how she came about knowing her kinks. I am curious to know about Eros’ past, his past everything, past submissives, how he came about knowing his kinks, if Isla is the one he has tried the most intense stuff with, if he had a more intense dynamic with someone in the past.

Love your writing 💗💗

First of all, thank you for being a dedicated TDIAG reader! I am so flattered :’)

This is a really, really good question. After I read this ask, I started to think about it and I realized our Mr. Eros really is an enigma, isn’t he? In the first chapter, it’s mentioned that Harry really got into kink at 23, and in chapter 6 a submissive called Hedone is very, very briefly mentioned in regard to fearplay. It’s noted in the TDIAG ABC’s as a fun fact that he didn’t name himself Eros (someone else helped him choose the moniker). But besides that, his past with kink really isn’t explored in depth.

TDIAGrry has definitely had more than a handful of subs he’s played with at Indulge, sort of like Isla in respect to her cycle of regulars (Faunus, Artemis, etc, etc). People he’s gotten on with that he was able to build stringless relationships of comfort and stability with. Definitely nothing too serious though. Isla isn���t necessarily someone he’s tried the most intense purely sex stuff with, because everything they do are things he’s tried with other partners (like impact play, and bondage, and fearplay, and suspension, etc, etc, etc). There’s even things he’s done with other subs that he and Isla haven’t necessarily explored, like anal sex. However, there’s definitely a more intense element of intimacy with Isla. Like bare sex, for example, which was a limit for him — he hasn’t indulged in that with other partners at Indulge.

I imagine he got into kink in a similar way to Isla — just sort of liked something, starting researching, etc. I think that prior to Indulge, he had a girlfriend or two that he’d experiment with in the bedroom, and that’s sort of where he figured out what he really likes. He tried a lot of things prior to Indulge, which explains his collection at home. Once he’d broken it off with a girlfriend and was exploring being single, that’s when he tried Indulge. He didn’t go into it with high expectations or anything, and went in sort of assuming that he’d leave after an hour of aimlessly wandering hallways and averting his eyes from every nonchalantly nude person that he’d pass, because crowds and flashy sex clubs were never really his thing.

But then it just clicked, and the rest is sort of history.

I think everyone expects to hear that TDIAGrry had a soft 24/7 dynamic with a sub in an out-of-Indulge setting or something, since he’s such a connoisseur, but really, I would say that the dynamic he has with Isla is the most intense it’s gotten for him. He’s been on the fence throughout the story when it comes to exploring something romantic beyond Indulge with her, but that hesitation is rooted in the fact that the club has boundaries. It’s stringless, and it’s fun, and as long as they’re in the club, feelings don’t really play a part. Taking this into account though, he’s much more open, I think, to exploring the feelings he’s developed for Isla and delving into more beyond the club, because he’s never had this horrible experience with a sub translating into an out of club context.

Anyways, SORRY FOR RAMBLING DHXJJDKD this became sort of an essay I fear, but thank you so much for reading and for being so interested in my characters <3 :D

#tdiag ask

[beyondmistland]

Do you think the Greens were improved in the TV show, Alicent, Aemond and Aegon?

I have mixed feelings about the Greens in HOTD.

Aemond: I very much like that they changed Aemond from an idiotic blood knight to a seething cold ham who’s studied history and philosophy. It makes Aemond more of a genuine threat to the Blacks, better ties into the show’s theme of second sons living in the shadow of their older brothers, and makes him a better foil to Daemon. Oh, and it leaves room for escalation whereas book!Aemond went straight to premediated murder from page 1.

Aegon II: I love how they’ve given depth to Aegon by making him the victim of parental neglect and abuse as evinced by his hedonism, loneliness, lack of ambition, desire for validation, and self-loathing. It really paints him as a self-aware lovable loser…which makes the showrunners’ insistence on using Mushroom’s version of events (albeit somewhat modified thankfully) all the more baffling. In his own scenes, Aegon comes across as quite sympathetic so making him an off-screen rapist and supporter of violence against children introduces a type of tonal whiplash that for me just doesn't work.

I’m especially disappointed because its obvious Tom Glynn-Carney has put a lot of thought into Aegon II, from ad-libbing the “do you love me” line to his short hair being a sign of alienation and rebellion.

Alicent: I enjoyed Olivia Cooke’s performance (case in point, I prefer the show version of Aemond losing his eye and its aftermath) but at the same time I feel the showrunners’ attempts to make Alicent more sympathetic to most people came at the cost of her book counterpart’s ambition and agency, which was replaced with neuroticism and victimization that doesn’t entirely work (case in point, the disgusting Larys foot fetish scene).

Helaena: She’s barely a character even by F & B’s low standards but suffice to say the show completely revamped her character to better explain Jaehaera and while I’m not entirely against that I don’t like the fact Helaena’s ONE major action as queen (helping her mother convince Aegon to offer peace terms to the Blacks) is skipped over nor do I like how a number of her scenes revolve around prophetic foreshadowing that doesn’t really help us better understand her character beyond the fact she’s clearly neurodivergent.

Daeron: They. Didn’t. Once. Mention. Him.

Otto: In the first half of the season, Otto comes across as someone with both good and bad qualities but in the second half he’s pretty much a mustache-twirling villain. Also, for a guy whose supposed to be famous for his learning Otto sure isn’t funny.

Criston: The ingredients for a great character were there but they rushed things. Also, he isn’t an incel.

If I missed anyone, please let me know.

Thanks for the question, @cynicalclassicist

#house of the dragon #the blacks and the greens #dance of the dragons #aemond targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #alicent hightower #helaena targaryen #daeron the daring #otto hightower #criston cole #fire and blood #house targaryen #house hightower #adaptation #westeros #book versus show #tom glynn carney #olivia cooke #hotd meta #asoiaf

[sybaritick]

Hey!

I am deeply obsessed with Appetites, genuinely a life changing piece of work for me thank you so much for writing it!

That being said my question to you is, how'd you get around to writing that specific kink for Gale? Did anything inspire you? And are there other fics that you got inspiration from to write it???

<3

thank you so much, this made me so so happy to read. you reaching out just to say you appreciated it... makes a writer's whole day!! 🥹

now for the question!! I have been into feedism and weight gain for many years-- essentially ever since my sexual awakening/since I was a teenager, I've felt there was something erotic about the hedonism of someone enjoying food to excess (especially if they're a little helpless about it and just can't resist!) and gaining weight because of it. I find fat itself hot as well-- the plushness and jiggle of it, the way it shapes a person's body, makes them softer...

as for Gale in particular, I think part of the appeal is that despite his canon abs... that's just a default body type, and if he were given a unique shape he doesn't seem like he would be particularly fit. He loves wine and cheese and enjoys cooking (and hates vegetables, as Wyll jokes); he's a wizard and a nerd, not much of a physical fighter; and he's in his late 30s or early 40s imo, which is plenty of time to get a little plump up in his tower. ofc the fandom itself was a huge inspiration too: there are so many great artists in the fandom drawing him chubbier and it made me consider how hot he'd be fat, and a couple great fics as well like Not What I Once Was. (There are a bunch more Gale weight gain ones now but that was one of the first, and existed before I wrote Appetites!)

Now for further reading recommendations on this Gale-fattening subject!

catalyst, interludes, and chorus by me, @slipintosomethingsoft and @butterfliesforchubbyguys respectively: all of which are about Gale gaining weight during his isolation post-folly and occur in a sort of chronological order from a slightly-plump Gale to a bountifully fat one.

catch and release by slipintosomethingsoft which is a predator/prey fic about a bunny!Gale and a fox!Astarion with a second chapter that is gloriously feeding-kink-centric

Rare or Medium? is a wonderful choice if you're into the darker aspects of this kind and want some humiliation and degradation with your Gale-feeding, just because Gale is so gloriously greedy in this one.

lastly, though it's not necessarily a feeding kink fic per se, Keep Yourself Warm is an incredible fic with such great characterization of both Gale and Astarion, and Astarion absolutely adores Gale's weight + weight gain in it.

#cal txt #asks #fandom #bg3

[philoslug]

Heavy topic, if you don't mind answering it. What are your thoughts on human suffering – why does it exist? What could be the purpose of it? Can be from a spiritual perspective, logical, or even biological one, as you prefer. (Thanks for your question by the way, I appreciated it!)

Suffering is such a weird topic in philosophy lol

Human suffering exists just as much as a human pleasure. From a biological viewpoint, pain is a blessing. It lets us know something is wrong. Where pain gets a bad rap is when we feel like it's misused. Which for us is nearly all the time (I don't believe it's an altruistic standpoint to say for a majority of humans, we don't like like the feeling of pain). Hedonism has two core beliefs: pursuit of pleasure or the absence of pain. To live a life like this though I would argue is depressing. If you're constantly shunning pain, whether it be internal or external, you're almost reducing yourself from experiencing the true lived life. Scars and wrinkles tell stories and if you avoid gaining those markings then have you actually lived life? What battle scars do you have from being human if you avoid pain? I also think there's an element of fear in the avoiding of pain. Are we really so afraid of pain that we will do anything to avoid it? Additionally, what is considered "pain". Some people I've met in my life consider mild discomfort as pain. Working under this, if we allow lesser pains like discomfort to guide our decision making (as hoping to avoid discomfort all together) then that's depressing. I think to wonder why human suffering exists is such a weird topic because almost all philosophy accepts suffering as a part of the human condition. We all suffer to come capacity. Obviously some more than others but we all suffer. Pain honors no master. Now the worth of suffering I think is a different topic, but suffering existing as a premise is almost a given. You cannot accept the possibility of pleasure without the possibility of pain. They are two sides of the same coin.

#philosophy #writing #humanity #thinking #thoughts

[shaywrites-ifs]

Did someone say poly? lol, you mentioned on your pinned that poly routes are being considered? With the full understanding that many (if any) may not make the cut. What sort of routes are you considering? Even if they don't make it in, it would be interesting to see what ROs might work well together.

Thank you for the question! I would really like to include a polyam relationship or two, but it's something I'm sort of considering and weighing because I would want it to be it's own thing and have it's own weight.

As for routes, honestly the only one I'm not feeling for a polyam is Vasil. Not because they come off as monogamous to me but because I don't see them being as interested in others. It might change, once I get to writing them, but obviously they're a little odd of a character anyway.

More thoughts under the cut, as it got a little long, and mostly in a triangle, not a V relationship with MC

Camille and Dalmar I'm also a little leery of. They're both quiet, angry, assholes. Dalmar carries a lot of hurt and a lot of anger (honestly, he's a helluva foil for MC, as they have similar stories) and he's already so very bitter. Camille is a hardass and in some regards it'd def work. They work well together professionally, as their paths have crossed before- which would help with the polyam relationship. And they wouldn't put up with each other's bs, which is something they need to an extent, and would bounce off of each other will cold sarcasm and an understanding of space. I just don't know if that'd be interesting for others to participate in.

Eiden and Dalmar are long time friends and have a trust and understanding of each other that would really help things. Eiden is one of the few Dalmar softens around, anymore, at all. Eiden as well is a bit protective of Dalmar and is appreciative of what he has accomplished. So, friends to lovers sort of deal that would be charming, I think.

Eiden and Camille is also fun, in a different way. So many deep sighs from Camille as Eiden flirts with her and is generally dramatic. A bumpy relationship as they aren't inherently easy to get along. Like Dalmar, Camille has dealt with them professionally, but Eiden would get on her nerves quickly with his flippant ways and nonchalant devil may care hedonism. Eiden has practice with asshole people, but still, would sometimes struggle with Camille until that trust and understanding was there.

Leja and Rei are much less obstinate assholes about things, but their relationship to each other is pretty sibling like, so unless things change, am reluctant to try and force them into one. But they def bring a softness to the relationship's they'd be in.

Leja has that maternal sort of care to her and, while she isn't just gonna be walked all over, is much more charming and able to handle people. Maybe a little pushy and nagging, but she means well. I like her with Camille, but that's just a WLW bias, honestly, they they have that "pastel and goth" vibe to them sorta?

Rei is a golden retriever with muscles. He's very "not as dumb as he looks, but not the smartest person in the room either" sort, and the most optimistic of the ROs. He's very much one of those to just fall into love head first, with a dopey grin and not at all intending to. He's another one that could be an open relationship in just "happy in the moment" sort, whereas Eiden just has commitment issues and a different philosophical approach compared to others because of [spoilers].

So, many thoughts rolling in my head and it's something that I'm gonna see how the story unfolds a little bit, before I really start Making That Decision.

That said, am happy to hear if y'all have a preference, thought, or questions about it all!

#mail time #chara asks #gotta get the vibes right #watch Vasil just ends up in like 3 polyam relationships cause I'm that wrong

[olive2read]

“Can I talk to you?”

A non-committal, “mmm,” was all her mother said but she had adopted her ‘benevolent’ smile, which Alexis took as permission.

“Something weird happened to me tonight,” she began.

Her mom rolled her eyes. “Oh, Alexis. We’ve all found ourselves dangling over the edge of Grand Duke Henri’s ski lift at one time or another. I know things feel dire now but, I promise you, it will grow back eventually.”

Alexis paused, then shook her head. Best not to go down that road. Besides, she refused to be distracted.

“Um, no. Not that.” When her mother simply continued gazing serenely at her, she bit her lip and just asked her directly. “Am I adopted?”

Her mom sighed, reaching into her bag. “Darling, if you want your therapist to prescribe a better class of benzos, shock value is much more effective than ennui.” She held out her tin of ‘mints.’ “Here. Take a few of mine and then run along, dear. Mummy doesn’t have time to help you spin a more convincing tale of anguish and woe.”

Alexis rolled her eyes. “That is not what’s happening here.” She pursed her lips. Her mother so rarely shared the contents of her tin. “Although, yes, thank you, I will.” She extracted three blue and white capsules and two orange ones. That done, she forged ahead. “I’m serious! I, um, I kind of turned into a… car, tonight… and, last time I checked, ‘distinctive hexagonal accents’ and ‘elegant Y-shaped features’ don’t exactly run in the family.”

“Well, not on my side, certainly.” Her mother shivered dramatically. “Uncle Caspian never did recover, poor man.” She raised her martini glass and tipped it slightly in acknowledgment before taking a healthy swallow.

“Wait, who’s uncle Caspian?”

“Hmmm?” It took a moment for her mother to comprehend the question. “Oh, oh no. No, no. You take my advice and steer clear of geometrics. All facets lead to disaster, no matter how tantalising they may seem.”

Alexis really ought to have known better than to ask.

“So, anyway. Is Dad, like, not my dad?”

“Alexis.” Her mom’s smile slid from serene to sympathetic. “Of course he is.”

“No, but, are you, like, sure?” She shifted uncomfortably, no longer certain she wanted her suspicions confirmed. “Because David has his eyebrows but I… What do I have?”

“Oh, no, Alexis. You know there’s more to fatherhood than inserting a protoform.”

Alexis blinked. “Inserting a—ew.” She really didn’t want to know. “Wait. Are you saying he isn’t my dad?”

Her mom patted her knee. “He is in all the ways that matter. If you’re asking about your conception, well.” A dreamy smile floated across her mom’s face. “The 80’s were a decade of lush hedonism, Alexis. We were helpless against its sybaritic charms.”

“Um. Ew.”

“And you know what your father is like. He is simply insatiable when it comes to—”

“Ew!”

“—sensual indulgence. We used to host such lavish parties—”

Alexis squeezed her eyes closed and smashed her fingers into her ears, she might even have whimpered, desperate to block out this appalling conversation and prevent any more of her brain from melting. The sound of her mom’s voice slowly faded and she cautiously opened her eyes, then unplugged her ears. Her mom was wreathed in contemplative silence and Alexis relaxed in relief.

It was short-lived.

“Such an ostensibly odd couple,” she mused. “The gorgeous, suave microscope and the eager naïf and his briefcase—but as devoted to each other as they were to the pursuit of scientific advancement. Oh, we had such a lovely time with them that winter.” She paused, her face scrunched in the closest she ever got to an actual frown. “Alexis, are you sure your transmogrification was into an automobile? Because I seem to recollect the awkward little mech was a jet, in all senses of the word.”

“Oh my god! Ewwwww! Stop!” Alexis’s protests made no visible impact on her mother, who blithely continued.

“Say what you will about existential metaphysics but you can’t deny he did marvellous things with mass-displacement and quantum disaggregation.”

“EW!”

#schitt’s creek #transformers #xover #sunday snippet #alexis rose #moira rose #background #brainstorm/perceptor #implied human/robot sex shenanigans #wip #ollie writes

[dragonmuse]

I always love it in fic when Izzy sort of ends up being a mentor to a Bonnetling but most fics have that be Alma so it was really delightful to see how it developed with Charlie in the Leda-verse! (It's also low-key hilarious because in a lot of ways Charlie can be JUST like Stede and Stede & Izzy are still so prickly with each other in the main verse and I love it)

I am so sorry, this answer to a question you didn't ask went on forever, so before I go into it, thank you for this! You're absolutely right!

H'okay so! I think it's pretty obvious that Alma would be a go-to favorite for this role with what cannon has to offer. They focus so little on Stede's son that it was easy for me to mis-name him (which yes, I did retcon because it was annoying me. Never got the reason into the story, but he was named for his awful grandfather at the man's insistence, so Mary and Stede for once agreed and never ever called him by his actual first name).

Alma has lines and a loose sketch of a character. We kind of know who she might be. Louis is a quiet blank.

BUT that has naught to do with Leda Verse at this point. For me, it's my own little divisions of how I code the younger characters. I know I've gone on about this before, so forgive the well trod ground: Alma is Izzy-coded to some extent. Eddy sees herself in Alma which is also very accurate (but you know, Izzy and Eddy have a lot in common even without their whole diseased emeshed endealment).

To my mind, Izzy can help Alma by giving out bits of advice, but he would really struggle to form a relationship with her. No matter how far he comes, the way he values himself really depends on the situation and day, and staring that in the face would give him a lot of trouble. He likes her in the abstract sense.

Read is Eddy-coded though probably with the lightest touch of any of them. Enough like young Eddy though that Izzy was never going to let anything happen to her as soon as she got into his orbit.

Charlie, I originally had in my head as entirely Stede's son, Stede-coded. He is so much like him! Yet when I started thinking about this story, it wasn't Stede that came to mind.

Charlie, in a first for any of the characters, is heavily Lucius-coded. Not in interests obviously (Lucius would rather drink grain alcohol than compete in a sport), but in spirit. They both prefer to be in the background, and for no one to look too hard at what they're doing back there. Neither of them like to ask for help, both of them are competent in their chosen field which they're happy to brag about while hiding their massive insecurities behind humor. They both appear to be control and are sometimes secretly spiraling. The casual sex is a hobby they share and both of them for the sheer joy they find in hedonism, and competency. The major difference is that Lucius doesn't have the supportive family behind him, so he had to master a survival method earlier and his is emotional literacy.

Just like with Read, Izzy is never going to let someone like Lucius flounder. He likes Charlie almost despite himself immediately. The kid is tenacious.

And it's inescapable that he's very much like Stede with his burbling facts, insatiable curiosity and annoying habit of asking very insightful questions somewhere in a sea of absolute bullshit nonsense. By the time Izzy realizes this, it's already decided what category Charlie goes in and Izzy does not reassign.

The two categories Izzy sorts people into are just 'Yes' and 'No'. Stede lives in the 'No' bin forever. Charlie gets to be in the 'Yes' bin which is way way emptier.

#leda house and the kraken verse #i think about this stuff way too

[bardicbeetle]

pssst, hey, are any of your vampires your vampires religious? Not in the like "vampirism has religious elements" anne rice sending lestat back in time in his head to drink the blood of christ kind of way but more in a, did the characters have religious tendencies while human and did those stick around or shift or vanish entire? Did immortality change their outlook on g(G)od(s)? sincerely, a very old friend, ~bonnie

BONNIE!!!!!! Darling, delight of my long sleeping RP life, how have you been my dear?

I apologize now for the fact that it's gonna be a few days on this answer. It's a slightly longer one.

But hi, i love you <3

So.

This is another of those person-by-person answers. Because, yeah, all the answers are basically different. I'm gonna stick to the vamp!house, because otherwise this is gonna get horrendously long, but I'll touch on the chaos trio briefly.

Alex, Daniel, Jesse, and Tom all grew up varying flavors of religious and ascribed to it for a fair amount of time. Isaac and Carrie were both raised agnostic/atheist adjacent/religion free. Moira grew up in a religious household but both never paid any attention to it, and it was so background to the rest of her family life that nothing much came of it.

At one point she refers to the vamp!house pre-Alex as someone having walked into what amounts to "An ex-catholic, an atheist by design, and a witch." having to slightly amend her statement at the insistence from Daniel that he's not a witch.

So, Jesse grew up catholic in the way of are we gonna send you to catholic school? no. are we gonna make you sit in church for a gazillion hours? Yes. He decided roughly around the same time he got thrown out that religion was bullshit, and has not looked back since then. So he's been very solidly No Fucking Thank You since about age 14-15. Then he gets terminally ill, meets a vampire, and ends up immortal, that kinda cements his own worldview that religion is bullshit and he neither wants nor needs any piece of it.

Moira I think is the most indifferent. She gets that some people enjoy religion and ritual for whatever reason, but her alignment falls way more along the hedonism is a form of religion on its own kind of thing. She doesn't particularly believe in a god or gods, but really doesn't care either way. As far as she's concerned, it need not apply to her.

Daniel also grew up very catholic, in, somewhat of a different way than Jesse. He was an altar boy, he went to catholic school, he will tell you if pressed that he's been smacked by more nuns than he would care to count. However. His older sister Lucille more or less drags him into some family history studies and both of them end up practicing what is closer to italian folk magic flavored catholicism than anything either of their parents would ever have wanted to look at. Including ancestor veneration, saints-and-angels-as-deities, and all sorts of other delightful stuff. Hence Moira's occasional insistence that he's a fucking witch.

Alex's parents are... were, what you would call... extremist. Both ascribing to some degree to the quiverfull movement and deep in hardcore evangelical circles. I'm not gonna say a ton on this because I have a post about it brewing somewhere in the depths of my drafts.

Anyways.

Thank you for the question Bonnie <3

Love you.

#the magician cries #larkspur will write later #questions concerns and or rotten tomatoes #screaming about sitd

[whatdoyoumeanitsnotcanon]

If Poly stuff is OK, could I request some hearcannons of a tarnished involved with the Omen twins? Separately of course 🙏

Oh my, anon. Of course, it's okay. I've gotten a poly-ask before. This will be interesting so I hope I deliver.

It's not Delivery, it's D'Omens. *sits in corny corner*

The Tarnished didn't expect it to happen at all. But it did. Something, something, fight, something, something, attractive. Something, something, relationship.

NSFW-esque stuff below.

Anywho, with TarGott:

He's like the sun. A warm blanket. And a furnace because by the Erdtree does the man hold heat like no one's business. But... yeah, the sun.

The relationship is soothing for both parties. It teaches Morgott to be vulnerable and less grumpy and it teaches the Tarnished to... do the same, minus the grumpy part.

Acceptance, acceptance, acceptance. That's the theme of TarGott. Accept that you're an omen or a tarnished, accept that the Golden Order is full of shit, and accept that despite your circumstances, you're doing the best you can possibly do.

They will keep each other on their toes, be it through snark fests, training, or in the bedroom.

If not tending to their respective duties, they are joined at the hip.

More often than not, you will see Morgott walking and the Tarnished resting on their shoulders.

The Tarnished is fascinated with Morgott's Omen features... to his surprise.

This is also how his beloved found out he actually can emote with his tail. For example, if he needs clarification or is confused, his tail will curve quite literally and look similar to a question mark.

The Tarnished also finds out that Morgott, indeed, COULD get another cloak but he prefers that one thank you very much.

Cuddlegott is the bestest of 'Gotts.

For Luminary Tohg:

Yeah, if Morgott is the sun then Mohg is the moon. And the stars. And he'd better be your sun, too. Tough titty, Mohg.

Whereas TarGott is acceptance of circumstances outside of your control, Luminary Tohg revolves around an acceptance of hedonism and carnal desires because Mohg is very hedonistic.

Mohg keeps the Tarnished on their toes. They play the soothing role to Mohg that Morgott does to them.

Physical affection (read: sex) is given. A lot.

The Tarnished has no choice but to be joined to the hip to Mohg. He won't let their feet touch the ground whatsoever.

They pamper each other, too.

On rarer occasions, Mohg would actually tell the Tarnished about his childhood.

He teaches them the joys of enjoying some of the finer things in life without shame.

Since physical affection is had, a lot, then the Tarnished is almost always chill when out doing Tarnished-y things.

They can always expect Mohg to be down for a stress-relieving quickie, too.

Whereas Morgott is a gentle, considerate lover, Mohg is not. He is thorough, though.

Expect Varré to be giving the Tarnished knowing glances and/or quips.

Varré is also their snarky wingman, too. He gives credit where credit is due because you'd have to be special to gain Mohg's affections.

#luminary mohg #morgott the omen king #targott for the win. #luminary tohg for the win. #nsfw. #elden crack. #crackcanon. #elden ring #I hope I understood the assignment well enough for you anon. #poly palooza.