#they're both fairly far in

[moonybadger]

Me: Man I should really finish BG3

Dark Urge: You should start a new game as a gnome bard

#I've got like five different Tavs all locked and loaded even though once I finish this playthrough I won't touch the game for months #but I really like all the designs for these new Tavs :( #Currently playing as Ash the monk tiefling (romancing Gale) #who I made after my initial tiefling June a druid (romancing Asterion) #they're both fairly far in #but on the backburner I've got Luna the sorcerer dragonborn (gonna romance Karlach) #Aslin the rogue drow (gonna romance Wyll) #and Mariel the gnome bard #who I have literally no idea who to pair with! #kinda thinking either Halsin or La'zel #but Asterion would also be very funny #I love all their designs but this game is so long :( #bored badgering

[yume-fanfare]

i need the next climax already i have to draw conclusions about the songsss <-is going to make this about tori

#because what if they're all in the same vein as parallel maze and crazy anthem #by which i mean softer (?) songs #you know like anime endings #but at the same time a vibe like this does fit rinne and tomoya specifically so maybe it's just a coincidence that both have been like this #because yeah rinne used to be a more orthodox idol and tomoya. i think parallel world really suits him #but for fine. for tori center were it not a climax i wouldve gone for a more general cutesy vibe like koi wa primavera but More #because yknow it's tori #and fine centers so far have fairly diverted from the usual fine style yknow #but maybe no maybe they Are going for a more traditional fine vibe since it's the climax #but slow/lighthearted like say hajimari no fantasia ¿ #(n tori's voice is Amazing for those slower songs tbh so it'd still be great) #but i would still have liked a cute faster-paced song 🤔 #but well we'll see #something like that can of course still be cute but hummm we'll see we'll see #mar's midnight rambles

[paragonrobits]

some important calvin and hobbes facts in case you haven't read the original comic strip in a long time or only absorbed stuff on it from memes and out of context bits on here:

Calvin's last name has never been given, and neither has any of his parent's names. This was actually why his uncle Max only showed up for a brief storyline; the creator of the comic, Bill Watterson, ultimately felt that while it was fine to have him as someone for his parents to talk to, it felt far too awkward to never have Max refer to them by name and he never made a return appearance.

The general tone of the comic is fairly light-hearted, with a big emphasis on goofy slapstick comedy contrasted by clever wordplay and often surprising adult-centered jokes that'll hit you like a slap. A big part of the comedy is, as Watterson put it (paraphrased) "It's really funny to me when people express deeply stupid ideas with really fancy terminology." One notable example you might have seen is that one bit where Calvin asks his mom for money to buy a Satan-worshiping rock album and his mom replies that there's nothing genuine about them and they're just putting on the attitude for shock value, and comisserates with Calvin as he deplores that mainstream nihilism can't be trusted. He concludes that childhood is disillusioning.

There is a LOT of criticism of the extreme materialism and selfish mentality of the late 80s, when the comic was initially written. This may go a long way to explain how its aged so well; much of what it criticizes resonates well with people today.

Bill Watterson views comic strips a legitimate form of artwork, and repeatedly fought to have more space to draw more beautiful and artistic backgrounds, which was a very hard fight and unpopular even with other comic strip artists. He eventually did win some compromises and a lot of Calvin And Hobbes' artwork shows it, with the use of space to indicate time as well as a sharp contrast between the often plain environments of mundane life contrasted by the wildly beautiful imagery of Calvin's imagination (which often sports realistic depictions in an art shift of sorts).

Hobbes is explicitly not an imaginary friend, by word of Watterson himself. We don't know WHAT he is exactly, and Hobbes is apparently unaware of the strange nature of his reality; people look at him and only see an ordinary stuffed tiger plushie, but he has a tangible effect on the world that would be physically impossible for Calvin to do on his own. He's apparently been around for a while, and was apparently around when Calvin was a young baby.

On that note; Hobbes has implicitly killed (notably treated as both a gag and also with the vibe of 'he's a tiger, duh') and while he doesn't do it again on-screen, he doesn't have any moral issues about it. Calvin claims that he's never had trouble bringing Hobbes to school because the last time he did, Hobbes killed and ate a bully named Tommy Chestnut and simply comments that it was gross and he needed a bath. Calvin's tried to repeat this again, but Hobbes was grossed out at the thought having to eat a kid raw and not being allowed to use an oven first, or complaining that children are too fattening.

Hobbes became gradually less human-like in body language and more like an actual cat in both body language and behavior; this was due to Watterson drawing more inspiration from his cat, who also inspired a lot of Hobbes' running gags, such as pouncing on Calvin when he got home. Several years into the syndication of the strip, Watterson's cat passed away, and he did a tribute to her with a comic strip of the two of them agreeing to try to dream together so they can keep playing when they have to sleep; Watterson's commentary (if I recall right), remarks on his cat: "We can see each other again in dreams."

#calvin and hobbes #queued

[abyssembraced]

((Quick heads up that my portrayal of Ghost might seem a little inconsistent for a little bit. There are a couple things I'm not super satisfied with right now))

#.🪲 #ooc #my main issue is that right now they can sometimes seem too... kirby-like i feel #like. in some cases i feel like if kirby was in the same situation as ghost i would write him fairly similarly #and that isn't good!! they might both be cute little baby gods made of void but their personalities are very different #ghost is more... reserved? ...and. also more intelligent sorry kirby AGSGDBS #and more analytical i think i'd say #and like. with kirby. you see him. you see how he acts. and you confidently go ''yep that's a child right there'' #with ghost? not so much. or at least it shouldn't be that way #you should look at ghost and go ''i *think* that's a child?'' at first glance #just based on their appearance alone. because physically they ARE a child #(though even then if it's an hk character then they might not be certain since small adult bug species like sly's exist) #but then you see how strong they are and you read the things they wrote in their hunter's journal #and you start to wonder if maybe they're actually an adult? #but then you see them do something unmistakably childlike #and you're kinda just in this infinite loop of questioning until you just give up and accept that ghost is ghost #the people who actually know more about vessels and have met hollow are the only ones who really know ghost's age for certain. like hornet #because then they can see hollow and go ''okay so that's what your species looks like in its final adult molt'' #and thus in comparison ghost is very obviously a child #though technically that won't work in the far future because ghost can't actually molt anymore #since they're void in a bug shape. not an actual bug anymore #but yeah. i consider ghost to be like a robot who has just started to develop sentience and emotions #they're very smart and mature and capable in a lot of things! #but they're still learning about emotions and stuff and are effectively like a child on that front #they've been alive for probably at least a century but all but a small portion of that life was spent being hollow #so they weren't really conscious of anything and don't remember much of that past now #it's only upon coming to hallownest and deepening their connection to void (and eventually becoming fully void) that they start to develop- #-thoughts and emotions #...and. i have just realized that i forgot to put the ooc brackets around *all* of these tags. #oh well rip lmao i don't feel like fixing that now agsdgdgs

[halemerry]

Alright, not to be too predictable, but I wanna talk about space and color as it's used in the intro to episode 1 for a minute. And you know, show some gorgeous space shots.

So we open in the dark. There's distant lights and the occasional flare from them moving through space but for the most part we get the angel that would eventually become Crowley alone in enough darkness that he himself isn't even giving off particularly significant amounts of light.

But then, enter Aziraphale. He arrives in a big ball of blue light shining above him that really emphasizes Crowley's red hair. They get tied to the colors we most often see them attached to, especially in promotional materials.

From here the entire scene gets slightly brighter, even once Aziraphale's light dims down. They're both lit up once they're together, even it the middle of literal nothingness.

They start the universe next, using Crowley's hand crank, which gives off a magic that's a combination of their two colors - purple.

A very similar color to this shows up in heaven as a signal flare for their accidentally too powerful half a miracle. It's a color tied to a miracle so big it could've revived someone 25 times and also a miracle that got the engine of the universe running.

And then. Creation starts. Our first image is a very Heavenly aesthetic. It's a blueish light cutting through the clouds much like Az just cut through the dark.

And what explodes from that is the thing that set me down this little rabbit hole in the first place: it's purple scattered through with red and blue lights.

As the initial burst fades, the blue and the red separate, the color fading except for this tiny blue dot and this growing red zone on the right.

The blue then fades, leaving us with an extremely Crowley coded palette here and a very orangeish red. There's shades of gray, a little bit of light, but not nearly as much color. As the sequence moves the darkness grows but does start slowly filling with small points of light.

We then end up with shades of gray both light and dark. There's balance here, even if it's not particularly colorful.

And then all at once a pinkish red bursts forth with these intense clawing tendrils. At the core of it, from the heart of it, is a bright blue ball of light.

It fades into a blue heart surrounded by darkness with whisps of white resembling a certain someone's hair. Or, as some friends pointed out two people embracing.

As the nebula settles a few other colors set in but the primary scheme is still red and blue. An almost violent plume of red emerges on the left side of the image.

And from this moment on most shots of the two of them back them with their respective color schemes.

They chat and Aziraphale gets anxious. He looks for a distraction and is immediately drawn to the space where the colors mix.

And as we fade out the other colors in the picture fade. We get the most balanced blue and red get. And on the far corners fairly clear dark and light.

So what does this mean? The purple speaks to them being very powerful together. And, the rest is arguably just representative of the plot. We have Aziraphale as a beacon in the dark - a signal flare we know Crowley has throughout history been aware of and drawn to. We have them brightening each other. We have Az's color breaking out of heaven to mix with Crowley's to create something new and wonderful and powerful. Aziraphale's color fades, leaving Crowley alone. We then get a burst of a red closer to Crowley's current hair, with Aziraphale's blue in the core of it that eventually becomes a blue heart surrounded by darkness. That too fades, replaced by the pillars becoming their familiar hand shape and slightly more colors seeping in. As they talk together and move closer together their own colors settle back in and come to balance.

#good omens #good omens spoilers #good omens season 2 #gos2 spoilers #Aziraphale #Crowley #space #good omens meta

[homunculus-argument]

Fantasy concept: The standard classic fantasy races, but humans are the species that's living the diaspora spread among other peoples' lands and cultures.

Humans are adaptible, can pick up whatever languages and customs they need to, learn to dress according to climate, are capable of digesting almost anything that the majority race commonly eat, can tolerate magic but don't need it to live, and altogether seem to find a way to live comfortably - or at least tolerably - wherever they can live at all. Many races who have humans living among them have a misconception that humans are some kind of sapient chameleons, that just automatically take the shape of their environment without thought or effort.

In truth, human communities are fairly tight-knit and have strong support networks, and they can and will immediately take in any newcomer stray humans and families, teaching them the ropes of how to live here. Not just out of the kindness of their hearts, but pragmatic reasons: one bad human or family will reflect badly on the whole population of the area. It's better to make sure that a stranger has a job than hear your own neighbour say that humans don't have jobs. It's fairly safe to assume that most humans who live in the same city know each other to some extent, but just because they're allies doesn't necessarily mean that they're friends.

While mixbreeding with the local population does happen - humans, for some reason, tend to be far more open to romantic and sexual relationships with other races than the rest, and the ones to do so have an astonishing knack for locating the one specific elf, orc, dwarf or any other who happens to find humans fuckable - and wherever the hybrid offspring aren't sterile, the human population of the area tends to aquire some majority-species blood and traits, mostly the distinct local traits of the human population of any area are cultural, taught and learned from the community.

Some elvish dialects don't have separate words for "half-elf", "a human born and raised in elvish lands", or "human who speaks fluent elvish and knows the customs", and even some elvish humans are surprised to hear that other cultures consider these to be completely separate concepts. As far as they're concerned, humans living among elves are all the same thing. Sometimes a person who's 75% elvish and only has one human grandparent, but was raised by the human side of their family, is considered human-among-elves.

And sometimes the divide between human poulations of different races and cultures is more stark than between the majority peoples themselves - while an orc clan and an elvish city-state might be willing to temporarily set aside their differences to work towards a mutual goal, the orcish humans and elvish humans among them might not.

While the human minorities among other races do have a distinct identity as humans of their own regions, this does not apply to goblins. Neither goblins nor the human populations among them make any distinction between the two at all. Both will refer to "their" humans as simply goblins, only specifying "a big one" if necessary, but even then you'll need to see the person in question to know whether they're talking about a human raised with goblins or just a particularly tall, physically large full-blooded native goblin. Goblins do not have a concept of personal property beyond "I had access to it and nobody stopped me from grabbing it, so therefore it's mine", and their humans are therefore goblins too.

Being one of the species combinations whose offspring are infertile, there's no goblin blood among their human populations save for the half-goblin individuals themselves, but considering that spontaneous adoption by simply herding unsupervised orphans into one's home is a commonplace, widely accepted practice and not any more unusual a way to start a family than having biological children, the individuals in question are largely unbothered by it.

While the humans-born-among-goblins aknowledge that they are human, they genuinely do not understand the concept of why one couldn't be both a full 100% human and a full 100% goblin at the same time. While humans from other cultures are confused and annoyed by their insistence, they'll have to agree that any person who'll come to your house as a guest (most likely unprompted and uninvited) and will just casually snatch a bug off your floor and eat it right in front of you, and then interpret the look on your face to mean that they were supposed to ask permission first is definitely a whole, entire full goblin.

The goblin-humans take this as a compliment.

[harmoonix]

☯ Natal/Sidereal Birth Chart Observations ☯

✅ The next following observations can apply to both tropical or sidereal ✅

☯ Mars in Scorpio or Mars at 8°, 20° degrees, these natives are very dedicated to what they are doing, is like they do everything with passion and love

☯ Mars in Aries/ at 1°, 13°, 25° degrees may love to practice sports, especially those who consume a lot of energy

☯ Mars square/conjunct/opposite Saturn, their personality can be very powerful and bold but they may struggle when it comes to self - expression and with keeping a routine for their hobbies

☯ Planets in the same house at different degrees matter a lot, even if they are at far degrees from eachother. They still hold a powerful energy

☯ Pay attention if Chiron moves the houses from your tropical to sidereal chart because you may have to focus on more things to heal yourself

☯ Mars in Libra or at 7°. 19° Can have a mix of chaotic - peace energy in their lives, but they somehow need to create a balance between those two

☯ Capricorn Rising in your solar return chart can indicate working on yourself a lot in that year

☯ Mercury in the 5H or Gemini/Virgo in the 5H may love to surround themselves with lots of art/music/fun/

☯ Ascendant aspecting Sun ☀️, The native personality can be easily liked by others, and they can often be very social/popular

☯ Mars or Venus in the 8H can find themselves being very attach to people with a powerful personality/aura

☯ Uranus in the 8H is a very unique placement.. if you have it, this placement gives the chance to explore your sexual energy in different ways

☯ Fire Risings have an unique excitement, a wild fire/sparkle in their eyes when they're happy. You can easily tell when they're in a good mood

☯ 8°, 20°, 10°, 22° degrees on the ascendant can give intimidating vibes, someone very powerful

☯ Aries and Capricorn Placements can often be very stubborn especially in big 3!! They like to do things in their own ways

☯ Having Jupiter as your dominant planet in the birth chart makes you extremely spiritual/kind and you may have a powerful desire to grow and to discover

☯ Capricorn Mercury or Mercury in the 10H or 10° 22° on Mercury natives can have a deeper voice than others but in a very mesmerizing way

☯ Venus in the 4H or Venus at 4°, 16° or 28° degrees can find themselves being the home and safe space for others, your way of sharing love is amazing

☯ Mars in Gemini/3rd house or Mars at 3°, 15°,27° degrees can have a very bold way of talking, their humour style is the best and sometimes they can have cracked jokes

☯ Lilith in the 11H or Lilith in Aquarius can find themselves being in groups with people who have experienced different traumas/bad things and can share those things between them!

☯ Lilith in Leo Degrees 5°. 17°, 29° can have a feline typo of appearance/personality even beauty like their face can easily be associated with a lion/feline

☯ Pluto in the 3rd house can make the native to be very curious about the taboo/dark/horror things, like they're so deep into the lore

☯ Cancer Degrees on ascendant 4°, 16°, 28° degrees can be more soft/sensible than others since young/since childhood. They're just more chill and calm than most people

☯ Natives with heavy Capricorn or Saturn placements can have strong legs/ and very beautiful ones

☯ Taurus Mercury/Mars or at Taurus Degrees 2°, 14°, 26° can be highly sensual in the room, also if they get excited

☯ Varuna (2000) conjunct/trine/sextile Lilith can be pretty known for their sensual nature, mesmerizing aura

☯ Mercury Dominant natives are truly the best ones who have around you! They're communicative/open minded, have a good sense of humor and they're also extremely supportive

☯ Pallas Asteroid (2) or 7H in Libra natives can inspire others to seek for their guidance, they often judge fairly and won't pick a side

☯ Pallas Asteroid (2) in Sagittarius or 9H can make the native to always seek for higher knowledge, this placement gives the high priestess in tarot cards vibes

☯ Pallas Asteroid (2) in Pisces or 12H natives are connected with the universe/source/God in a way that, they can feel its presence around

☯ Pallas Asteroid (2) in Leo or 5H can combine philosophy with fun/creativity, they can be really talented and share lots of good vibes

☯ Since the 9H is also related with school/education Mars/Saturn/Pluto and even Lilith in this house can have it quite hard/challenging in those topics, sometimes even getting in fights with the teachers as well

☯ Something natives with Lilith in the 10H or in Capricorn fight with is that most people in their lives try to be dominant and to overtake them and control their lives which is extremely wrong! Never let anyone do that

☯ How Venus - Pluto aspects/Venus in Scorpio/Venus in the 8H always fall for the people who have a bad reputation like?? Is like you are attracted to the villain of a fairytale/story

☯ Sun opposite or square Saturn can bring a difficult relationship with their dad, or they could've grow up in a strict household

☯ Lilith/Chiron in the 2H natives can have problems with their self esteem or self worth, sometimes even ED aka eating disorders

☯ Leo & Capricorn combos in your chart can make you very intelligent and likable

☯ I feel natives with Mars/Saturn/Pluto in the 4H or 5H may like to stay alone more than being 24/7 with people, like to have their own space

☯ Saturn or Capricorn in the 6H can be quite draining to have, it's practical but exhausting in the same time

☯ Having all your big 3 in the same element is quite unusual but powerful in the same time

☯ Jupiter in Aquarius or Aquarius Degrees/11H/11°, 23°. Their spouse can be extremely social and friendly,kind, humanitarian, helping, supportive. Is so hubby material

☯ Juno in the 1H natives can get into relationships since young ages as a lesson to learn and to explore an specific side of relationships, so that they learn to be more mature in their next relationships

☯ Virgo Risings have their 7H in Pisces which makes them to be dependent of their partner at times, like very attached and clingy

☯ Lilith at 0° degrees in the chart can indicate breaking the norms and bringing something new with them

☯ Lilith Asteroid (1181) opposite/square/conjunct Neptune or Venus, they have a catchy appearance and approach to people

☯ Moon in Aquarius can be known as that person of the family who is just born different, but in a good way like that cool sibling/cousin/friend etc..

☯ Aquarius Placements combined with Gemini and Virgo placements can be really into gaming since they have a very analytical mind

☯ While if you have Aries Placements and if you are into gaming you can be quite competitive in your games

☯ Pisces/Cancer and Libra Moons natives are the easiest to catch in love, is just their energy being in love 24/7, they can aslo switch up very fast if the person they like is not like they thought

☯ Lilith in Gemini/3rd house or aspecting Mercury can find themselves surrounding with people who gossip a lot, at some point people can gossip about them as well so take care who you spend your time with

☯ Lilith in Taurus/2H or at Taurus Degrees can be afraid of being rejected, as like an anxiety thing, you deserve a lot better if you have people in your life who may try to reject you

☯ Moon aspecting Pluto natives can often find themselves with people who may try to manipulate them into making bad decisions, don't always let yourself that easy to people

☯ Lilith square Moon/Venus can make women specifically hate you for no reason. Like creating this hate energy for nothing, protect yours at least

🦋🫶🏼 A new week is a new astro post🥰🫶🏼

Hope you all have it good 🤍🤍🤍

🤍 [H a r m o o n i x ] 🤍

#astrology #astro observations #birth chart #astro notes #astrology observations #placements #astro community #horoscope #ascendant #sidereal chart #tropical chart #venus #vedic chart #vedic #astroblog #astro seek #astro combo #astronote #sidereal astrology

[soapisahimbo]

Jealousy - Simon 'Ghost' Riley Headcanons

Hi can I request any jealous/ possessive ghost head canons? NSFW PREFERABLY. Where he gets jealous and tries to distance the team from being too touchy with you or even to joke around with you. But they don’t know y’all are dating of course. So he has to fight his feelings and eventually taking it out on you if you know what I mean wink*wink*. Or the things he’ll do to show the others that you are his only and that’s when they got the clue. Please?

Wow, I'll admit, this was a bit of a challenge. Also I wrote it as a headcanon list, I hope that's what you were aiming for! I was honestly a bit unsure on how to approach this, and I'm a little unsure about how it turned out, but I genuinely hope that you enjoy it!

Containts heavy smut elements, so minors stay away!

warnings: simon is a jealous bitch, it gets rough, borderline dubcon, genderneutral reader/genderneutral anatomy

Simon has no lack of faith and trust in you. He has a number of peculiarities for sure, but he knows you'd never betray him or go behind his back. It's a trust you worked hard to gain, and it was hard work that he recognizes and appreciates. You've proven time and time again that you're safe in many ways and while he's always prepared for the worst, he's also an excellent judge of character. He can read you like an open book.

Simon has no lack of faith and trust in his team either. He'd never say it out loud, but they are his brothers in arms and he is ready and willing to kill and to die for them, just as they are for him. He's not exactly eager to show his appreciation for them, but they take what they can get, even if it sometimes is just a mere glance. Now, don't misunderstand - he appreciates that you and his teammates get along, and he knows that if something were to happen to him, they'd keep you safe. But he is a man of instinct, and he has a tendency to get a bit territorial, for lack of a better word.

You know he has a bit of a... jealous streak, to say the least. He doesn't try to control you, because his gripes are not with you. He might loom and he might grumble, but he likes seeing you getting dressed up, he likes seeing you having a good time, he enjoys seeing you laugh and joke around. As far as he's concerned, you can do no wrong. No, his gripes are not with you - never with you. They are, however, with everybody else that even glances your way.

Kyle and Johnny are both very friendly by nature - they're probably the most easygoing members both in and outside the task-force. They're the type of people that others trust and want to hang out with, and they also consider you a good friend, whom they like to hang out and banter with. They do seem to have a habit of hogging you though, much to Simon's chagrin, and while you can make it up to him most of the time, he doesn't find it any less infuriating when they whisk you away for you to witness their latest ideas and trinkets.

They are also flirts by nature. Simon knows this because they inadvertently flirt with each other, as well as himself, any other teammates outside the task force and even Price at some points, mostly through jokes. They could probably flirt with a brick wall as far as he's concerned. Which is why he can almost overlook it when they turn their cunning charms onto you. Almost.

No one knows about Simon and yours relationship, not even Price. He's made it a point to keep it on the low for the safety of both of you, and you couldn't exactly argue - it made sense considering the line of work. It seemed as if though you had to remind him of this several times whenever hands and eyes that weren't his own seemed to wander a bit too much for his liking - "you can't hold it against them," you'd say, "they don't even know." And he knows you're right, but that doesn't mean he doesn't want to hold it against them.

Despite all this, he keeps himself in check fairly well. No one can tell if he's just staring normally or glaring daggers at others anyways, so he gets away with dreaming about stringing them up by their balls at any time. Or rather, he keeps himself in check fairly well - until he has you for himself.

You'd tease him about it, but it's kind of difficult to even form coherent thoughts once he's pounding into you like his life depends on it. The second you're alone with him, you best believe he's making the most of it. He'll cover your mouth to keep you from making too much noise (although you're not sure that ever helps because just the sound of him fucking you is loud enough anyways) and he growls into your ear things like "you're mine and mine alone," "one day I'll fucking bend you over right in front of those fucking idiots and show them who you belong to," "they think they can fuck you as good as I do," "I bet those fuckheads would kill to get a chance to make you cum this fucking hard."

He tries to keep them away from you, subtly in order to not draw attention to it, even though it doesn't always work, and he'd rather just kick them in the head. Places himself between them and you, keeps you close to him, gives excuses as to why you should be stationed with him, why you should be assigned to him and his missions - anything he can think of. He also has a penchant for interrupting others when they're trying to talk to you, coming up with something to send them away. You yourself are honestly surprised no one's caught on at this point, but that might because no one knows him quite as intimately as you do.

Every day that anyone has managed to get in the way for him always ends the same. If you could keep track of the time he spends fucking your brains out, you'd probably be concerned, but he doesn't give you any chance to gather your thoughts once he has you. If he's really pissed, he might start taking risks - dumb risks, if you had anything to say about it, but he rarely listens, and he knows exactly what weak spots to touch on to get you to give in.

He's pinned you against a door a number of times, somehow managing to stay deathly quiet while fucking you thoroughly with practically all of his teammates standing on the other side, completely oblivious to what's going on behind just a couple of inches of wood. He once fucked you just around the corner from an open hangar door, and if any of the people walking by had thrown a look in your direction, they would've seen you bent over, pants pulled down to your knees and with Simon's iron grip on your hips.

So far though, he's managed to keep it discreet, despite his hotheadedness. Never leaves any marks where anyone can see them, helps you stay on your feet if you're in a place where you have to be, makes excuses to do things for you so that you don't have to get up out of your seat - although he can't deny that a part of him wants everyone else to see what he's done with you. He wants to mark your neck and chest all over for everyone to see, he wants everyone to see you stumble when you walk on shaky legs after he's done with you. He's had to fight the urge to just throw you onto the table whenever the force invites you in for a poker night and fuck you in front of them, just so that they can see that only he can have you.

But he mainly keeps it to himself. You'd be far too pissed at him if he pulled a stunt like that for it to be worth it. In fact, he reached a point where he was almost fine with at least Johnny and Kyle being their usual selves with you (to a point, of course). He almost got over it. Until, of course, the idiot with the mohawk decided to push it a bit further than he usually did.

The outcome can be blamed on a number of things, really. 141 had been away for an extended period of time, long enough for Simon to reach for his phone and send you some heated messages nearly every day for the last week, which was rare. So when he was finally coming back to you, finally able to spend as much time as he wanted in bed with you, when he steps off of that goddamn fucking helicopter to finally be greeted by you, what happens? John 'Soap' FuckTavish runs full speed ahead to you, wraps his dumb fucking arms around your waist, hoists you up in a fucking hug and plants a big fucking kiss on your cheek. Numerous times, mind you!

While you were indeed happy to see him and the rest of the team, you could tell that Simon had reached an instant boiling point. If you didn't know any better, you would've thought that he was about to blow Johnny's brains out then and there, but instead he simply walked up to you, grabbed Johnny by the shoulder and just about yanked him away from you.

"Maybe take a shower before you start rubbin' your stink all over everyone else, Sergeant," he said, pushing Johnny away. Wow, smooth, you thought to yourself, but Johnny seemed to take it in stride and laughed. "Gee, sorry, LT. Just happy to be back with a good friend is all." And as a final nail in the coffin, he winked at you before strutting away.

Kyle and Price greeted you as well as they passed by, Kyle also giving you a warm and tight hug, rocking you back and forth, and you could practically feel the heat radiating from Simon where he stood. Once they'd moved on, you turned to him with a sheepish smile. "Hi, baby," you said as sweetly as you could.

He grabbed you by the jaw, squeezing your cheeks so that your lips puckered; firm, but not rough. He leaned in close, his eyes fixated on you. "I've had it," he said and while you weren't exactly sure what he meant, you knew that there was something in store.

He picked you up and threw you over your shoulder and you were suddenly aware of the fact that there were still people around to witness this very unusual display from Simon 'Ghost' Riley. He carried you through the hallway that lead to his room and people were gawking at you as you tried to protest, tried to remind him that no one's supposed to know, that you need to be discreet about this, but how could you say all that without giving everything away when everyone could hear you? So you tried to just act like you didn't know what was going on, asking him what he was doing, where he was taking you, why he was doing this, but he didn't say a word. You're pretty sure that far more than you were comfortable with watched as he carried you into his room and locked the door.

He threw you onto his bed and tore his mask off, throwing it onto the floor with such force that you thought he broke it. "Simon, what the hell?!" you said, watching him take his gear off and haphazardly toss it to the side. "I thought we were keeping this shit secret!" But he didn't seem to listen. He simply stared at you with some combination of lust and anger as he stripped himself naked in front of you.

He grabbed your ankle and pulled you to the edge of the bed, wrapped your legs around his hips and leaned over you, pinning your hands in one of his above your head. "I've. Had. It." he said again. His other hand moved down to your crotch and pressed, rubbing at you. "I should've fucked you the second I touched ground - maybe then they'd get the fuckin' point."

Everything happened so fast after that - he ripped your shirt off, from the collar and all the way down, and you're pretty sure he broke your belt before he practically ripped your pants off as well. He kept you pinned against the mattress as he relentlessly fingered you, and when you tried to keep quiet he'd only up the intensity, focusing on that exact spot to break you apart. "I'll make them get the point, how's that?" he grumbled and spat at your hole, staring as if hypnotized.

You had no idea how long he'd had you just like this, eventually with both hands working you past the edge over and over again, but you were pretty sure that if you came just one more time you'd pass out, and he hadn't even fucked you properly yet.

At some point, you were vaguely aware of him lifting your hips up, placing your ankles on his shoulders before you felt him push into you and you thought you felt a part of your mind break. You didn't have any energy left to try and keep quiet anymore, so any moans and cries that worked their way up from your chest were let out freely and loudly as he pounded into you. Between the biting and the sucking all over your neck and chest and whatever other parts his mouth could reach, you thought you heard Simon praise you for every sound you let out.

His grip was sure to leave bruises on your hips, but he found that he had little concern about it as he watched your eyes roll back. With how he was handling you, he'd wondered if you'd mark him up the same if he asked you - it would only be fair, and he would be more than happy to wear any branding that you'd put on him. But for now, he'd put his on you.

He gripped the back of your knees, pushing them up to your chest and pushed himself deeper into you. He growled all sorts of dirty exclamations about how you looked, how you sounded, how you felt and how now no one would dare to lay a finger on you again. He fucked into you with reckless abandon, eventually pushing all the way into you to cum as deep into you as he could before pulling out and using his hands once more, fingering his cum back into as it leaked out.

You came one last time with a loud and near pornographic cry, the world flashed white, and before you knew it, you were held up in a warm stream of water in the shower, Simon's calloused hands stroking you gently to wash all the fluids off of you. "Aren't you such a good doll for me, baby?" he mumbled. "So good..."

You were littered with hickeys and bite-marks, painfully sore all over in the best sort of way, so weak in the legs that your knees were still shaking and you could barely stand. "The fuck got into you?" you managed to breathe out. "I'd be surprised if the entire fucking complex didn't hear us." Simon simply grinned. "Good. Maybe now everyone will know to keep their fucking hands off."

You were incredibly pissed at him once you saw yourself in the mirror, yelling at him and telling him that there is no way you can go out there looking like this. You scolded him, unsure if he even cared, but he dutifully went out to grab you some new clothes to replace the ones he ripped apart when you demanded him to.

The following week or so was incredibly stiff, both literally and figuratively. People would nearly sprint out of the room if you entered, trying not to pay any attention to your awkward walk, and you practically banned Simon from sex until you could sit down properly ("Plus an extra week!" you had added, just to get your point across) and all the marks had faded from your skin. Simon did make it up to you, being extra sweet on you, massaging any and every sore spot you had regardless of if he had caused them or not, running errands to make sure you didn't have to leave your spot.

As for the task force... for as long as they could see the hickeys on your neck, Kyle and Johnny tried every excuse they could think of to not look too much at you, or they told you that they had somewhere to be before awkwardly stumbling off under the glare of your boyfriend. Price himself was also a bit awkward, but for the most part, his reaction consisted of calling Simon into his office and scolding him for "causing a ruckus". He also threw in a "and for fuck's sake, don't break them - I'd rather not have to write that report!"

Simon did appear to be pleased with the results, however. Everyone steered clear of you, with the slight exception of his teammates, but even they were treading carefully. He barely even had to do anything. A bonus was that anyone that tried to be an asshole to you also kept their distance, which even you could agree was at least one positive thing to come out of the whole ordeal. At least he'd gotten it out of his system. For now.

#cod mw2 #cod x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley smut

[valkyrielevitt]

Hogwarts Fashion During Hogwarts Legacy

A cheat-sheet for making your writing/art historically accurate, and some inspiration for your MC - women's addition.

Victorian fashion was complicated, both in terms of the construction and the rules that dictated when certain garments could be worn. Age played an important role in what a person was permitted to wear, so lets break it down that way:

Younger Students (Roughly years 1-4)

Generally speaking, girls dressed in similar styles to their mothers, but with altered hemline lengths. Up until roughly 13-14 years old (exact ages were decided by the girl's family) her hemline would fall around the knee. At 14 it would be lowered to the middle of the shins.

At this age girls would wear dresses, and so you could suggest that Hogwarts uniforms for girls at this age would not consist of the shirt and skirt combo that MC and various NPCs wear.

Most schools in the 1890s did not have set uniforms, but instead girls were expected to wear an apron to protect their clothes from ink and chalk dust.

At this age it was still considered socially acceptable for girls to wear their hair down, or in more simple hairstyles like braids. Popular hair accessories included ribbons and straw hats.

Time for some examples:

This is an example of a day dress (casual clothes) from 1893. Smocking (the embroidery technique used at the collar, waist and cuffs) was popular in young girls clothes.

Another example of children in day dress. The girl on the far left is probably about 13-14, the older girl on the right is closer to 15.

An example of the aprons worn by younger students.

Details of the dresses worn underneath (technically from 1897 but the styles are fairly similar)

Details of the aprons worn

Older Students (Roughly years 5-7)

Around the time that the MC joins at Hogwarts, she would, depending on her personal preferences, have kept her skirt at her mid shin or dropped the hem to her ankles. Around the age of 17, girls would be expected to fully let down their hems to the floor, signifying their shift to adulthood.

At this point dresses would become less popular during the day, and were replaced by blouses (complete with very large sleeves) and a skirt. Men's tailoring and sports clothes shaped women's fashion at the time, and greatly influenced what girls wore at this age.

Girls would also typically stop wearing their hair down during the day, resorting to simple up-dos instead.

The time at which each girl made these changes depended on her and her family. While some girls had no choice but to listen to their parents, often they were able to bargain for an extra few months if they so wished.

An example of two girls around the age of 15 in very typical day outfits.

A selection of school girls - those sitting are no older than 14, those standing are no older than 16.

At the age of 15-16 girls would begin to attend more family functions and required new styles of clothes. These paintings show the same tea gown. These were made to be worn at home, never in public, when the family was hosted guests or a less formal dinner. They could be worn at all times of the day.

Day clothes for students who dressed as adults (17+):

A British Upper VI class (age 17-18) and some teachers in 1894. All girls now wear dresses with their hems on the ground, and hair tied up.

Middle class girls fashion in the 1890s

A Woman's sweater from 1895

Walking outfit from 1894 - essentially a more substantial outfit for spending time outdoors.

A more expensive version of a day outfit.

Tea gowns:

Generally identified by their loose fit, high neckline, and a train that falls from the shoulders. Additionally they may also be made with a large coat over the top. The shape was inspired by medieval fashion and so they're a good source of inspiration for the wizarding world imo.

Evening gowns:

Worn for the most formal evening events, and generally expose more skin than day clothes. Staple accessories included fans, opera gloves, and (if you're that way inclined) tiaras were coming into popularity at this time.

Rule of thumb for all fashion at this time, the sleeves get largest in the middle of the decade, and shrink back down again towards the end.

1894

1893

1898

1893-1895

1894

1898

#Wow first post on this account is the nerdiest thing i could possibly pick #enjoy! #hogwarts legacy #harry potter hogwarts game #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x reader #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x you #ominis gaunt x reader #garreth weasley #garreth weasley x mc #garreth weasley x reader #ominis gaunt x mc #hogwarts legacy art #hogwarts legacy mc #historical references #fashion references #1890s

[the-modern-typewriter]

Could you please do a villianxhero prompt?

They were on the same side. Sort of. Temporarily. Admittedly, it had been a temporary that had stretched on far longer than either of them had expected.

It had been nearly a year.

"I wouldn't," the hero said, as one of the villain's circle stood up to go find his absent leader in the study upstairs.

The villain's left-hand simply sneered at the hero before continuing on their way.

The hero sighed. They could feel a headache forming, but they moved to rise either way, with the celestial tug of everything they were.

"I wouldn't."

The hero glanced over at the villain's right-hand.

The right-hand smiled at them. "It serves him right. And it wouldn't do him bad to remember how much of a buffer you are when you're around."

"He'll get hurt."

"Then he should have listened to you, shouldn't he?"

Well, the hero didn't exactly have a good argument for that. While they'd learned to get on well with the villain's right hand, they still clashed frequently with the obnoxious and entirely too sycophantic left.

"Seriously," the right-hand said, softer. "It's not like you're planning to stop absorbing the worst of them any time soon, is it? Pick your battles."

"They're not that bad with me."

"You know how to handle them - better than anyone."

"Don't let them hear you say that."

The right-hand snorted.

They both looked up, towards the ceiling, towards the villain seething with setbacks out of view.

Something crashed.

"I'm not going to say 'I told you so,'" the hero said. "That feels mean."

"Don't worry." The right-hand sounded positively cheery. "I will."

The left-hand slunk back downstairs before they could respond, pale and shaken. It was, admittedly, a little satisfying. The villain was definitely a bad influence.

But, also, really. The villain telegraphed their moods fairly obviously and they'd got better at retreating when they felt inclined to be vicious. It wasn't a spoken boundary but it was a boundary to anyone paying attention.

It was possible that the hero paid too much attention. They just couldn't quite seem to stop.

"They told me to send you up," the left-hand muttered, with great resentment.

"Bold of them to assume you can send me anywhere."

"Please," the left-hand spat.

The hero grinned at them, before standing.

The right-hand's eyes gleamed, like they knew something that no one else had cottoned onto yet.

The hero shot them a two fingered salute, before they made their way upstairs. They rapped their knuckles against the door before entering.

"I've been summoned," the hero said, leaning against the door. "And you look like hell."

The villain scowled, dragged their hands through their hair.

The hero winked back at them.

The villain's glare intensified, but the tension slipped from their shoulders. "My head is killing me," the villain said. "I'm going to slaughter the next person who interrupts me."

The hero hummed, moving over to the sofa in the corner of the room. They flopped down, all casual like. The villain didn't even make a show of being casual or pretending to work for a minute more before they beelined over, all but shoving their face into the hero's neck.

The hero raised their eyebrows, surprised, then softened. The cupped the back of the villain's head, stroking through the dark locks. The villain melted against them. The hero felt something inside them ease too; a jungle cat finally settled and purring.

"It's disgusting that you're one of the few tolerable people left in the world," the villain said.

"Woe betide the minions. They try so hard."

"Don't take their side. You're mine."

The hero huffed, but didn't correct it, far too busy stifling a smile. Mine. It shouldn't have got to them like it did; there was a time when the word would have made them snarl with fury. They tucked their chin atop the villain's head. The connection between the two of them buzzed pleasantly.

They didn't ask if the villain wanted to talk about it. Inevitably, though, they did.

When the two of them wandered downstairs three hours later, the villain was themselves again.

"So," the right-hand asked, when the two of them were alone. "When's the wedding?"

#hero x villain #idk #heroes and villains #villains and heroes #writing #short story #enemies to lovers #writeblr #creative writing #villain x hero

[artsykidwolf-2000]

Hello I would like to request something. How eould Sephiroth act when he has a crush on someone? Idc if it's post-Nibelheim or while he's still a Soldier. I leave that up to you. Thank you so much if you do this and have a wonderful day :3

Great question Le Anonymous! This is similar to what I thought for my Ravenroth ship (maybe?) BUT this topic is cute nonetheless. I might just do both ideas! Hope you like these headcanons!

SEPHIROTH CRUSH HEADCANONS

PRE-NIBELHEIM

Sephiroth as a SOLDIER he never really had romantic feelings, even as a teenager. Once he became more of an adult that's when his tables turned.

He would get flustered when Genesis or Angeal made a joke about the person Sephiroth liked. But he hid it well but you could see pink dust on his cheeks. He'd get confused about butterflies in his stomach and why they were there.

As he explores his feelings more, he tries to be braver around his special someone. When he eventually asked them on a date on his free time he was happy. He shined that shy smile of his. He took them to a fancy restaurant and bought them flowers or a little gift for a start. He's a good listener and would mostly let his date take charge of small talk if they were brave, if not he would.

He might take them on a walk or shopping on the next few dates. He has a lot of money to burn! As the relationship progressed he'd eventually confess his attraction. He's still new to all this lovey dovey crap so it'll be a slow start but with the help of his partner he would be just fine and even start to be very romantic on occasion.

Genesis and Angeal would absolutely still tease him about his romantic efforts and Genesis would try and coach him to the behest of Sephiroth's will. Angeal would just tell Sephiroth to be himself and be more gentleman-like and uphold honor in his word. He loves his friends' efforts but he's already had Genesis talk his ear off about Loveless references...Angeal is more tolerable.

Yes Zack would absolutely have his jaw hit the dang floor about hearing about ALL of this and how Sephiroth has a partner. Zack just can't help not hiding his puppy-like wonder.

Sephiroth talks about his mother a lot with their partner. If his partner was willing to research more about if his mother was truly dead or not AND found the truth then you bet your bottom gil he would try and find his real mother and bring justice to Hojo.

POST-NIBELHEIM

Good lawd where to start....

Ok! With Sephiroth off his rocker bc of everything that's happened. Things would be different and difficult to comprehend.

If Sephiroth still had his partner before he went bonkers he would ABSOLUTELY try and keep them with him at all costs. He still loves them but it's slowly creeping into bad territory. If he did not have a partner beforehand he would kinda stalk them like he does Cloud. Leave flowers and candy and whatever else on their doorstep. Then it turns into jewelry or expensive items. Then himself out of the blue.

It creeps the partner out but the love is still there. His good looks and charm works wonders. They try and figure out what went wrong with him. Maybe they try and reverse what happened if they're more than just a normal person. Magic can only go so far.

If their efforts are fruitful then he slowly reverses back to his old self just a bit but can't quite shake off Jenova unless someone destroys her. He also finds out about his real mother. He would search for her with them.

If it was in vain then he would be angered fairly easily. Trying to turn them into more like him or be more loyal or obey him. Regardless if he still had love in his heart.

Sometimes at night, you can hear cries...but from who is up to the mind's desire...

#fanfic #ff7 crisis core #ff7 x reader #ff7 rebirth #ff7 remake #ff7 sephiroth #sephiroth x reader #sephiroth #thanks for the ask! #thanks anon! #final fantsy vii #final fantasy #final fantasy 7 #headcanon #final fantasy 7 headcanon #sephiroth headcanons

[envy-of-the-apple]

Okay,, you have to let us know are the eggs any characters Specifically like megumi or itadori? I bet they would be clingy mommas boys.

Love you crumbs you give us and happy late birthday 🫶🏻

awww ty bestie okay okay okay holdonholdon

You'd name the hatchlings. Idk if I mentioned this or not but in the excerpt, the reader names Suguru and Satoru cuz they didn't have a concept of language yet. I think once they had a general concept of human language, they'd use their human names for each other just like you do.

When Nobara, Yuji and Megumi hatch, they'd definitely hang onto you the most. It's mostly because you are the most caring out of the throuple you were forced into. It makes sense for you to care about them, right? After all, human babies are pretty helpless and that's how far your knowledge extends. And they're adorable, with big round eyes, making cute little chitters. You get a tiny bit protective of them, especially considering the other two nagas don't carry the same sentiment. Suguru is clearly a believer of tough love and you've caught Satoru trying to put one of the eggs in his mouth (you're pretty sure he was joking...but you arent risking it when they're this tiny). They're small right now, but naga hatchlings grow up fast. They're practically your height in just a couple of years.

I feel personally, Yuji would be the (most outwardly) clingiest. He's affectionate, more dog than snake, sometimes. He's the largest of his siblings. When he was smaller, his favorite thing to do was wrap himself around your shoulders and you'd carry him around. He can't do that now, but he has other ways of spending time with you. He 'hunts' with you the most, assisting you with collecting berries and fruit. Apart from you, he'd bond with Satoru more. They share a similar personality, both are easily amused.

Megumi would be the shyest, but he loves you just as much as his siblings do. Much like his fathers, he enjoys the warmth you provide and would love cuddling with you in the languid hours of the evening. He doesn't do that much when he's older, but he's still interested in spending time with you! He likes quality time, the most. Eventually, during your time on the island, you'd have set up a tiny garden. He'd help with that. He and Suguru would have lots of similarities, so you'd often catch them together. They'd both help with your garden, helping cultivate the seeds and soil. It's not natural for them, but they understand you're different from nagafolk

But I think Nobara would be the one you're the closest to. She hatched the first. She's also different from her brothers. Again, in the naga species, the females become something akin to sirens. Slowly, you'd notice how different she is compared to her brothers, how much she enjoys the water, how dry her skin gets when she stays on land for too long. She'd evolve differently. Webbed hands, her tail would be more lithe, finned.

Because she's so different, Satoru and Suguru don't have much of an interest in her. Again, much like reptiles, nagas are fairly independent at a young age. Satoru and Suguru allow the hatchlings to stick around because you'd pitch a fit otherwise and they try to keep their mate happy. Once it becomes clear Nobara is aquatically gifted, you'd be terrified of the thought of her being out alone at sea, so you'd often go out with her, not caring how pruny your fingers get. Because of how much time you spend with her, I think she'd be the most interested in humans. She'd ask you about human culture, human customs. Every once in a while, she'd go out and collect remnants of humanity, clothes, trinkets, jewelry, anything she can find off the ocean floor. She'd sit on the rocky shore, holding out each one, demanding you to explain them to her.

You wouldn't dare mention how much you fear her fathers, but I feel Nobara would be the first to realize that you don't want to be here. She can see it in your eyes, the longing whenever you're explaining another human trinket. She wants you to be happy, but if you go back to the humans....would you still have time for her? Would you still braid her hair? Take care of her? Love her?

In the end, Nobara is the most similar to her fathers. She'd keep you on the island too.

ughhhhhh i should just write that chaptered naga fic already this is getting ridiculous.

#yandere #x reader #dark content #yandere jjk #dark gojo satoru #dark jjk #dark geto suguru #naga au #naga satosugu #naga gojo satoru #naga geto suguru #naga fushiguro megumi #naga itadori yuuji #yandere gojo satoru #yandere geto suguru #yandere satosugu #siren nobara kugisaki #Top of the Food Chain

[flametrashiraarchive]

Hi, it says your requests are open! Can I request a nsfw scenario for Giyuu and his crush going to a public bath house, and the receptionist mistakes them for a couple so they have to share a bath.. hehe.. and he gets a boner and tries to hide it?

thanks and feel free to ignore im kind of embarrassed aaaa

AAAAA THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN! Thank you for being my very first ask! I hope you enjoy!

I'll try to work on the other asks tomorrow too! Thank you so much!

NSFW under the cut...

Bathing with Giyuu 💦

You've traveled with the water hashira long enough to know when his quiet stoicism slips into panicked silence. 

To the uninitiated, Giyuu's facial expression is one of dead calm, but his deep blue eyes give away far more than he realizes, and right now he's shitting himself. 

"It'll be fine," you sigh, standing shivering in your yukata. It's morning and the sun has barely begun to warm the world up. "I won't peek. We'll just bathe, get out, and never speak of this again."

You're mostly trying to assure him, but there is a little part of you that's nervous too. It's just a simple mixup; the lady running the bathhouse just mistook you for a married couple and sent you to the same private onsen. And if the pair of you weren't so damn introverted you could probably have the mistake rectified fairly quickly, but the thought of the awkwardness and the apologies... no this is somehow simpler.

Giyuu is already in the bath, submerged up to his shoulders, the steam and clear water doing very little to obscure his… everything. 

He sighs as you shiver and says flatly, "Fine. Get in. But if you tell anyone about this, especially the other hashira…"

"My lips are sealed… turn around."

He does as you ask, turning his back and lowering himself until his chin is touching the water. He stares at the rocks surrounding the edge pool as if they're the most interesting thing in the world.

Your heart races as you slip off your yukata and leave it hanging from a nearby tree. As desperate as you are for this bath, and as much as you tried to brush it off, it is a little weird to be naked with Giyuu.

You quickly get into the water. It only reaches your bellybutton, but you can crouch and fully submerge your body just like he's doing. "Okay, I'm in." 

You expect his shoulders to relax but if anything they get more tense. What little you can see of his face is bright red. "Ugh this was a bad idea."

"It's fine! Come on Giyuu, we've been traveling and fighting demons for days without a break. Everything hurts. I need this bath. If it's so awful sharing with me then you can always get out."

He shakes his head firmly, still looking away. "No. Absolutely not."

"Okay well… let's not make a big deal out of it." It is pretty fun to annoy him so you tease a little. "We're just two unmarried friends, bathing together…naked. Nothing weird about it."

He brings his hand out of the water to pinch the bridge of his nose. You brace yourself for his exasperated reprimand, but in the same heartbeat as he opens his mouth to speak you hear something. You sense movement behind you. 

He hears it too and the pair of you instinctively stand, both on high alert. After days of fighting for your lives against demons, neither one of you can fully relax yet. It takes a moment to realize it's daytime. The demons are all hiding from the sun. You're safe. Your yukata just slipped down from the tree branch.

Breathing a sigh of relief, you turn your head to face him. "Probably just a squirr- oh god!!"

You're naked. He's naked. The water is waist deep on you but he's taller…

And God, he's rock-fucking-hard.

He doesn't speak. He just releases a panicked grunt, attempts to cover himself with both hands, fails to conceal it fully, and dips down to hide beneath the water. 

And you just freeze as your heart lunges against your ribs. That image is burned into your mind forever; his lean, muscular body… the way it curved. The veins…

"Sit down!" He says finally. 

You bring up your arm to cover your tits. "Oh! Right."

As you submerge your body in the water. You're facing each other, both bright red, unable to make eye contact. Your heart is racing and you're pretty sure his must be too.

You're the first to break, your eyes sliding across to him. The corner of your mouth tugs upward.

"Not a word," he whispers.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Giyuu's eyes flicker to you and then away again. 

You can't hold it anymore. A laugh sputters out of you. "We're so ridiculous."

His well-practiced stoicism starts to falter, and a faint smile curves his lips. "Yeah. We are, aren't we?" 

It feels good to laugh; days of tension and exhaustion slip away, rising with the steam of the onsen. And it feels even better to laugh with him. 

#giyuu tomioka #kimetsu giyuu #giyuu smut #demon slayer giyuu #giyuu x y/n #giyuu x reader #kny fanfic #tomioka x y/n #kimetsu no yaiba tomioka #demon slayer tomioka #tomioka giyū

[ventique18]

Malleus book recommendations (⚠️ Warning: Adult novels)

Are you a MalleYuu simp? Are you tired of their endless pining that never goes anywhere? Are you frustrated and just want the Yuu♀️ to bed the Malleus? Well you're in luck because I've sacrificed my sanity to comb through heaps of trash just to feed my brethren's delusions!

If your fave is his temper tantrum: Rurik - The WitchSlayer. This is only one book, but very cute and satisfying. Not very heavy on the plot; more on a fantasy slice of life between a dragon shifter and a sweet part-dragon witch.

If your favorite is the playful in Malleus: Rhysand - A Court of Thorns and Roses Series. Note: Do not stop reading until you get to Book 2, at least. It's the actual start of the series.

If you like both Malleus and Silver and want to merge them into one person: Creon - Fae Isles Series. IMO the best out of all of them.

If you like Evil Malleus: Valroy - Maze of Shadows Series. From the most well-written book out of all of them, but requires the most open mind. This is a dark novel with an evil hero. When I say evil, he is EVIL.

Some rankings below:

Note that all of these are personal preferences.

Ranking the best boys:

1. CREON (Fae Isles). He's THE best hero out of all romance books I've read so far. He's complex. He's devilish. He's thoughtful. He has a unique feature about him that no one else possesses. You'll understand.

2. Rurik (The WitchSlayer). He's annoying, has a bad temper, grumpy most of the time, but he's very cute. He's a literal dragon. He's also smart and actually thinks things through to actively resolve misunderstandings because he understands that feelings can muddle the truth.

3. Rhysand (A Court of Thorns and Roses). He's perfect. That's all. Sometimes a bit too perfect, but he's much better than many fictional male leads.

4. Valroy (Maze of Shadows). This does not mean he stinks. He's literally just extremely evil, which in itself makes him very interesting and better than most cookie cutter heroes.

All of them are great characters. They're the main reasons why you would read these novels.

Ranking the stories:

1. Fae Isles. Its magic system is unique. A lot of it is unique. Just excellent all around and definitely my favorite.

2. Maze of Shadows. DARK romance. Toxic. But very interesting and a refreshing read for those who have the strength to stomach it and remind themselves that this is only fiction.

3. The WitchSlayer. Just a one-shot so you can't expect much, but its pacing is unique in that the conflict resolves fairly early, leaving enough room to tackle what happens after the big bad evil has been defeated. It also has a cute epilogue! Definitely read this if you only have time for one of these. You won't regret the sweet dragon moments, both in his tiny form and his giant form.

4. A Court of Thorns and Roses. I generally just enjoyed it for Rhysand tbh.

Do you know other stories with Malleus clones? Let me know because I need it 👀

#book recs #ventique shares #should i tag this as malleus #ok #malleus draconia

[utterlyazriel]

whom the shadows sing for — (and the thief's echoing hymn)

a/n: WE MADE IT TO CHAPTER FIVE!! EVERYBODY CLAP!! labour of love fr <3 but we're almost to the scene that sparked the whole freakin series and i. oh man im just yearning for that hurt/comfort

word count: 4.4k

synopsis: You test out if your efforts with the tonics are worth anything and Azriel bestows you with a gift. He asks about the Blood Rite and you ponder the strange, golden thread you've been feeling in your chest. Disaster strikes when night falls.

CHAPTER FIVE :: CONFIDANTS

You look younger in your sleep, Azriel thinks.

He doesn't think he's ever seen you like this before. The hard lines of your face are all smoothed out as you rest, so unlike your usual expression. There's something softer about you.

The constant furrow between your brows is whisked away for once. He can still see the familiar line between your brows though, if he looks close enough.

If he can look past the bruises that mottle your face, that is.

The damage you've sustained from training within the camp is severe enough to curdle something sour in his stomach.

Azriel had held his reservations about his trip back to Velaris— a suspicion that proved to be well founded. His own memories of training at Windhaven provide plentiful ways for you to have ended up in this state.

You’re curled up instinctively in your sleep, wings tucked around yourself. It sews of thread of worry through Azriel's chest, a slight concern at the state of your wounds and how the position will agitate them. While you don't move much in your sleep, he knows from experience that it'll be hell when you finally do stretch back out.

But... he can’t bring himself to wake you. You need the sleep desperately.

Azriel is fairly certain that the huddled form you take is some subconscious way to protect yourself, even in your sleep. Your wings drape across yourself, keeping yourself covered, hidden.

And while that makes some part of Azriel's heart ache, he can't deny that you—it looks… sort of cute.

Azriel forces himself to avert his eyes, ducking his chin for extra measure. Those pesky thoughts were becoming more and more frequent — something that he's pointedly ignoring at this point.

Protect, his shadows whirl around his ears like tiny gusts of wind, whispering their suggestions. Protect, they whisper.

Protect. Both a thought and a feeling. A guiding intuition that seems to reverberate from his very bones.

The suggestion from his shadows isn't entirely left field either, as they always take inspiration from what he can see. From his wandering thoughts, from his prolonged gentle gaze that lays upon you whenever he can.

Azriel scowls lightly at himself. He had no claim to protect you and further more, most Illyrian males like yourself would take great amounts of offence to the mere insinuation. He knows that you are more than capable.

He steals another glance at your peaceful, sleeping figure and his shadows seem to quieten in response— at least about you. The whispers don't ever truly quieten.

Azriel's fairy certain where they're getting their ideas. It's what he wonders too as he takes in your battered face once more—whether it’s the truth or just his familiar brand of desperate hope.

Something that would explain the urge to protect beyond reason.

Something like... a bond forged in starlight.

The Mother's Kiss whistles quietly outside and Azriel shifts his gaze again and this time, it lays upon the Heartstriker.

Sitting atop the one table-top in your shelter, the blade stays sheathed away in the very same bejeweled case that Azriel had found it in. Same as on that very first day he laid his hands on it.

It had been a wretched mission. One of his very first. It was not performed with the eloquence he would come to learn in future years.

Heartstriker had not been the objective of the mission. Far from it, in truth. The objective was a simple stealth reconnaissance into the Court of Nightmares.

He was to delve beneath the rock of the mountain in a mission very similar to his current. Swirlings of rumours and whispers of rebellion, against the new Highlord. Azriel was there to learn who had the guts to pick up the knife and try.

Heartstriker was a ploy. A shiny trick that Azriel had not yet learned how to evade.

He was still a novice by his own standards, only a few hundred years old. Spying in this sense was still fresh, still new. The work he had done under Rhysand's father during the war had been far more reliant on his brute strength. He had strict instructions not to hesitate to draw his blade.

It had taken time to relearn the importance in a message sent with words.

To remember the power of mercy.

This mission had been the first and only time Azriel had underestimated the measures in place in the Court of Nightmares, meant to keep out the likes of him.

His hesitance to kill had given another Fae time to trip an alarm, to flood the room with warriors. So when he had been backed into a corner by the snarling miscreants that lived in the belly of the mountain, taken by surprise, he hadn't hesitated to snatch up any weapon he could reach.

And it had branded him, singeing him right to his core.

But when he tried to force his fingers apart, they wouldn't obey, even as they screamed with the pain of the invisible flames. It was as though his hand had become fused with the blade, each atom of his being completely joined with the bronze of the sword through a terrible, unstoppable and invisible force.

Every part of him shrieked in agony. An age-old fear reared up within him, his hands burning like they were set alight and he could feel the flames licking at his skin, at his hands, could smell the scent of burning flesh—

He had fought on and won, all the same, taking on two battles at once. Fighting foes by real and faux, all whilst burning up from within all the while. The sword was immeasurably heavy and yet too light, all at once.

And only once almost all his enemies were slain, their blood staining the marble floors, did the burning cease. The blade seem to hum in response to the battle— drawn to the final foe who was clawing for his breath through his blood-soaked throat.

The tip of the sword had urged Azriel forward, like pulled by an invisible string, and he let it lead him, plunging the blade through the chest and into the heart of the last enemy left.

Only after, had the humming stopped. The sword finally clattered from Azriel's strong grip, the fusion broken.

His hands were same as ever, mottled with their scars, but with no indication of the burning he knew he had felt.

On his return, Rhys had told him the history of the sword and it's duly fitting name: Heartstriker.

It hadn't been claimed in centuries and as such, naturally it had come to live amongst other cursed objects within the Court of Nightmares. Unable to be used, unless someone bested the pain it took to raise it.

But Azriel had, entirely by accident.

It is said that once mastered, it will always strike true. Rhys had said, violet eyes gleaming as he looked over the bronze sword with piqued interest. That it's more than a regular sword but a living thing you must work in tandem with.

If anyone tries to take it from you, they must suffer the same fate. It can be gifted freely but, He had paused, that smirk that held no warmth in it pulling at his lips. I'm sure you can guess how often that happens down there.

It hadn't been used within the Night Court either, condemned to another hundred years or so without sight of battle. Azriel had more than enough blades of his own. The Illyrian broadsword that he had earned all that time ago in the Blood Rite for a proper battle and his Truth-Teller for the finer details.

Heartstriker wasn't right for his stature. Too short, strange weighted.

He'd kept it all the same. Perhaps, he told himself, to keep some other Fae from suffering the same fate if they laid hands on it.

His hazel eyes drift back across to you, bundled within yourself. You make a noise in your sleep, a gentle snuffle, and Azriel finds himself smiling.

Or perhaps, he thinks, he knew to keep it for entirely other reasons.

—

The quick healing of Illyrian's is more often a blessing than it is a curse.

On today's quiet winter morning, it is somehow both.

When you wake, dragged from your slumber in the early hours, it's before the sun has begun to make an appearance on the horizon. The shelter is coated in a soft darkness of dawn. The trees sway outside, a thousand creatures still roaming amongst their branches, reliant on the dark before daylight breaks.

It's the pain that wakes you, ebbing in through your sleep til it shakes off your sleep. You wake with your teeth already gritted.

The only pleasant surprise is that fact you're not shuddering yourself awake out of a nightmare, especially considering yesterday's training session.

You have a feeling that it has something to do with the sleeping Illyrian, propped up beside the fireplace, keeping watch.

His shadows still move about, even in his sleep. His neck is tucked down, his forehead pressed against his knee. It hides away part his face but as your eyes adjust to the shadowy light, you can make out his closed eyes. His hair looks messier than you've ever seen it.

It can't be comfortable, sleeping the way he is— but you have a feeling that Azriel has slept in places far worse before.

Shifting about in the darkness, your hand comes down to press tenderly at your sides, assessing as quietly as you can. There's no immediate sting of sliced skin as your fingers tips poke and prod at the skin, which makes you sigh in relief. You press down again, at bit harder this time, and it forces a wince out your gritted teeth.

Extremely bruised. But at the very least, the skin has knitted itself together in the nighttime.

Your face still aches, too. It's not quite the same ringing that made both eyes throb painfully yesterday and with a slow wrinkle of your nose, you can assess that the worst of your broken nose has healed up too.

Your ears, however, poses a different problem. One of them, the right side, still rings lightly. It would be more concerning, you think, if the left one itself wasn't so muffled altogether.

Huffing out a breath, you drag yourself up to a sitting position, moving at a tentative pace. Pain ricochets around your body. You're doing the best you can to be quiet but it's futile it seems — there's one creak of the bed as your weight shifts and Azriel's wings twitch, giving him away. He’s awake.

He lifts his head slowly, letting it roll from one side to the next, stretching out his neck. It's the only indication he gives you of feeling sore from his cramped sleep all night, his attentive eyes already watching you closely. His shadows, you notice, seem to gain speed at his rousing— circling his shoulders and neck closely.

You clear your throat and focus your gaze forward, resuming the task at hand. Raising one hand, you snap your fingers beside your left ear, then your right.

Frustration bubbles up inside you as you repeat the motion, as if it’ll change the outcome.

It doesn’t.

At least beyond the ringing, your right ear can hear the snap clearly— a keen Fae sense that like any warrior, you rely heavily on. The left one…

All you can think is that they must have hit you pretty damn hard to leave it as dulled as it feels. It can still hear, thankfully, but the noise that filters through is muffled around the edges. Buzzy. It makes you feel off kilter and unbalanced.

You let your hand drop and try to remain stoic, so used to hiding your emotions away from your face. You don't realise your drooping, limp wings give you away anyways.

Azriel gets to his feet swiftly, the movement so smooth you would have never guessed he spent the night tucked up uncomfortably against the bricks of your fireplace. He regards you with those burning amber eyes and your heart seems to lurch forward in response. You avert your gaze.

"It would seem we have an opportunity to test out our efforts." He says. His voice is still coated in sleep, low and rumbley, and it sends a bright zing down your spine. You lift your gaze from your lap and raise your brows in question.

He waves a hand to the table, in gesture.

Your various ingredients for brewing the tonics stay tucked in one corner, some wrapped up and set beneath the table. There are several different bottles too, stoppered with corks and containing yours and Azriel's attempts at the healing tonics.

It takes another moment to understand what he means.

"No," You say sharply, climbing to your feet. A thousand parts of your ache and groan in protest and you channel your focus into not letting a single ounce of it show.

Rolling your tense shoulders back, you wander towards your armor in slow steady steps. "Those aren't for me. I've healed enough in the night."

"I see." Azriel replies. "Is that why your left ear isn't working right?"

Gaze snapping back to him, you curse his ever-so observant nature. Maybe that's on you for trying to keep a secret from a Shadowsinger.

You are keeping a secret from a shadowsinger, something whispers in you.

A cold flush fills your body, numbing out every nerve for a single moment. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Your wings hike up, tuck in. It feels wrong.

For the first time in your life, it feels so so utterly wrong to be keeping this secret from someone. To be hiding who you truly are.

But Azriel... he was a stranger not too long ago, wasn't he? You're not sure if you can even call each other friends, even if you had begun to in your mind, without even realising.

You think back to last night, to when he could have easily lifted your shirt a few inches higher when trying to save your life and known.

Then you wonder if he did — and he hasn't said anything.

If he's waiting for you to trip up, to fess up, to explain to him why you've been lying to him from the moment you first met him.

Azriel seems to sense your internal battle, the same way he seems senses a thousand things from you as though he's known you his whole life. He clears his throat to get your attention. When you focus your vision back on him, you notice one of the bottles is in his scarred fingers.

"I will train you today," He says. "On the condition that you take it."

Your nose twitches. It's an ultimatum. He knows you want to train, to brush off yesterday and let the pain in your body fuel the determination of today but he won't let you do it so carelessly. Bastard.

Before you can blink, he tosses the bottle across to you. You react instinctively, cradling your hands to catch it quickly before you realise what you're doing. Your nose twitches again, a tiny flare of annoyance at his smugness.

No, not smugness. Surety. His expression, bordering on bored, tells you that he knows you don't have any other options— unless you want to climb back into bed and rot for the day.

You yank the cork off the bottle harshly. Then, just to show him how unpleased you are with this, you lob the cork at him with all your might. Your bruised side screams in response. Azriel snatches from the air easily, without so much as a blink.

He looks like he wants to smile but thinks the better of it, placing the cork gently onto the table. "I'll meet you outside." He eyes the uncorked bottle in your hand then back at you. "Drink it. Please."

—

The tonic, as you find out, is only mildly effective.

It's a gutting discovery. The mixture is nowhere near potent enough to fix the level of nerve damage that gets inflicted during clippings if it barely lightens the bruises on your side.

The mottled blue painted on your skin gives way to a light purple, the edges of them retracting to a tinged yellow. The skin glows hot as the tonic works as best as it can.

The taste of it is nearly as rancid as the failure feels.

You deal with it the only way you know how; chewing it up and spitting it back out as determination to do better. The drive to push yourself harder in training rears up, fiery and stubborn— harder than you logically know is any help to yourself.

What was already tedious and heinous training is made that much worse by your injuries.

You're moving sloppily today, offbeat. The dullness in your left ear helps to keep you off balance. Still, you manage to keep up with Azriel— not quite the one step ahead you're usually aiming for but, at the very least, you're still holding your own.

Your ribs ache and your heads throbs. The ringing in your right ear has disappeared with the help of the tonic, only to have started up in the left. A relief in one sense— it's good to be hearing more of anything. A fucking pain in another.

The only major upside, really, is the sword.

The Heartstriker, Azriel had called it

You had been half convinced it was a hallucination, the gift. Sure that it some desperate illusion born out of the delirium of the blood loss because, really, when was the last time you had ever gotten a gift?

When you'd limped your way out into the snow and saw it in his hands, you had blinked in disbelief.

But it's almost like Azriel had expected it, his scarred hands reaching out to gently curl around your wrist, murmuring its name as he had pressed it into your hand. It's yours, he had said.

He had let go of your wrist go immediately, stepping back but not far, still hovering close by. He let you have a moment to marvel at it before he urged you to follow to the usual neck of the woods you trained in. The sound of clashing steel had soon followed.

It's a perfect addition, you find.

The blade is like a mere extension of your own arm. It's light enough to carve through the air with ease but when you strike, it's buries deep. Compared the Illyrian broadsword used in training at camp, it suits your stature far better. You move more agilely, hit more frequently and harder when you do.

It's probably the best thing you've ever owned— ever held.

You're gazing at it where it rests on your lap, glinting in the light of the day, as you try to catch your breath. Azriel had given you a moment to recover, far earlier than normal, due to your injuries, no doubt. Normally, you'd grumble and snarl and push him to continue but today, you're quite happy to have another moment to stare at the first gift you've gotten.

Azriel breaks the silence with a question.

"Why haven't you competed in the Blood Rite?"

Something icy spikes in your blood and your back straightens instinctively, the hair on the nape of your neck standing on end. Whether he knows it or not, he is treading close to dangerous territory.

"Why do you ask?" You answer his question with another question.

Azriel regards you with a certain look, his dark eyes dragging down your body intensely and back up to your face. It's enough to make you fluster momentarily, to feel a faint stirring in your heart that doesn't entirely feel like your own. No one has ever looked at you like that before.

"You're strong. You hold your own. You're of age." He states carefully. "You remain attached to this camp with no rank until you pass it. Why not?"

You scowl at his frame of thinking, as if you haven't passed over those reasons a thousand times. Beyond the fact you can't ever ensure you wouldn't be burdened with your cycle during the Blood Rite, there's more than enough reason for you to remain a nobody.

You feel oddly disappointed that he would think only in that manner; glory and rank.

"What makes you think I want any rank in my camp?" You spit bitingly, watching as his wings sink down an inch at your tone. His misunderstanding of why you've chosen this way of life bothers you more than you expect.

"Because you did?" You ask. "Because three bastards fought their way through it and won and left their shitty pasts behind? I am not you, Azriel."

Azriel doesn't react, not even the raising of his brows. Only his shadows give himself away, whirling around slower than usual. He speaks in that same careful tone as before.

"I know you are not."

He makes you feel foolish for giving in to any lick of your anger, for so quickly snapping at your only friend. You turn your head away and stare down into the snow, taking a breath. Cauldron, you're tired. Lifting you arm, you wipe your forehead with the back of your hand, clearing the sweat that beads there.

"I could leave but for what reason? Ever since I—" You suck a sharp inhale, swallowing back words that dance too close to giving you away. You pray he doesn't notice your hesitation. "Ever since I was young, this has been my goal. This change must come from within, you know that."

You inhale again, feeling the breath rattle past every ache and pain in your chest.

"I can only do the things I do... the things I must achieve, by being unnoticeable."

You cast a glance up to him. "To them, I am some bastard who won't give up and die. I am not a proper threat. You, of all people, should understand that it's easiest to work when people are not paying proper attention."

And that's all you have known — how to become unnoticeable when needed and how to be noticed when wanted. Attention, you've learned, only means a target on your back.

Beyond that... you can't imagine someone who would want to notice you for anything more. You've had many, many years to make peace with that bitter fact.

I am.

Without warning, there's a sudden thrum from deep within you, like a echo of a drum, of a call. It's golden and threaded with softness. I am paying attention.

It startles you, one hand flying to your armored chest in surprise. As quick as it had appeared, the hum flees and leaves your bound chest twingeing only in its usual discomfort. One moment of brief serenity. You long for it, despite the unfamiliar nature.

You realise abruptly that you've trailed off and force yourself to move, body aching in the process. Heartstriker sinks into the snow and you use it to clamber to your feet, not nearly as graceful as you would like. Azriel doesn't say anything.

In fact, when you lift your gaze to meet his, he's staring at you more intensely than usual. His shadows seem more agitated. They flit about, circling his hands more than his shoulders, and you can barely see the scarred skin through their inky darkness.

There's a long moment. Around you both, the trees creek as they bend in the wind, a thousand leaves rustling around you in a chorus.

Azriel breaks the silence, casting his eyes to the ground and lifting his blade. "No more questions."

He says it like a promise, his lips pulling at the edges like he might be offering a smile.

"Just fighting."

—

By the time the moon rises, the ache in your body has dimmed to a more bearable pain.

While you'd be miffed at the idea of Azriel pulling his punches, you can't deny the sliver of gratitude you have for it now. As you reach over the cauldron of simmering stew, only a few of your ribs twinge enough to make your motions falter momentarily. The stew bubbles and brews, filling your shelter with a hearty smell.

It's been too long since you last cooked something to share.

You try to shelve the guilt away—you and Azriel have been running a very tight schedule, switching between training, tonics and rest. Taking time to cook, for yourself or others, hasn't even had time to cross your mind.

Your brief brush back with the reality during yesterday's training, however, had provided you with ample reminders. Your home camp and all its violent glory.

So, you cook. The logs crackle on the fire and above them, the stew simmers gently as you stir absentmindedly at it. Giving yourself this quiet moment, you let your thoughts drift as the tiredness of the day trickles into your body. Your thoughts turn to the quiet Shadowsinger.

He had taken his leave as soon as he had declared the end of your days training, needing another trip to Velaris.

I'll be back by morning, he had said, each of his seven cerulean siphons flaring brightly before he stepped between the fabric of the world and disappeared. Another hidden trick up his sleeve.

You'd allowed yourself only one moment of surprise before you closed your mouth— you really needed to stop underestimating him. As the stew before you begins to hiss and spit, you pull yourself from your thoughts and prepare yourself for the discomfort of meal times.

They never are as friendly as you might hope.

Despite your generosity, the different outcasts of Exordor remain cagey. Regard you with pensive and guarded looks, hands hovering on the butts of their swords. You can't blame them in the slightest.

But those that can brave the walk to your cabin, risking both themselves and your own safety against the other Illyrian brutes in the camp, are rewarded with a hot meal. Tonight, you feed 12 hungry mouths before your doorstep grows quiet.

You pack it all away in silence, with a quite yearning for company you've only just become used to having.

It's only as you're tucking in for the night, your wings wrapped around yourself tightly, does the first pain strike. Right to your core, the very insides of your gut feels as though it's being shredded. You gasp, your entire body curling up tighter to fight against the pain.

For only a moment, confusion clouds your mind at the attack that seems to come from nowhere, from an invisible enemy. Only one answer comes forward—the only thing that can threaten to reveal your secret without your permission, through mere scent alone.

A certain agony that only tortures you twice a year.

[NEXT PART: BETRAYERS]

#azriel #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger x you #azriel fic #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #azriel fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #acotar #i have nothing to say but sorry it took more than a month!!!!!!!! ahhhh!!!!!!!!! #mwahmwah please forgive me #we're GETTING there #i just keep being dedicated to the backstory lmao #TOO dedicated

[entomolog-t]

Another weirdly specific brainrot is plagging me-

Imagine finding some item at a pawnshap/garage sale/thift shop, Maybe the item is a little figuring, maybe it's a book- whatever it is, the item is fairly small. Upon bringing it home, you start feeling weird. Your head hurts. Thinking it's a migraine, you grab the item and go to head to bed, only-

It yelps.

In a panic you drop it.

It screams.

At first you're quite freaked out, but upon realizing that the item is far more freaked out, you start to calm down. They, whatever it is they are, have been bound to that item, fully aware and conscious- able to feel and perceive, yet completely helpless and unable to do anything. Just an inanimate object. You're the first person that's been able to hear them. They're desperate for your help, though you can tell they're still terrified of you. You're huge to them, and they are quite literally unable to do anything except beg you be gentle.

It's odd, comforting an item, especially one so very terrified of you, but you do your best.

After some time, through conscious actions or random happenstance, you're able to figure out how exactly they're bound to the item- a small binding insignia scrawled on the surface of the item. All you'd need to do is interrupt the lines of ink and they'd be freed, returned to whatever body they came from.

Maybe you've grown close, and the notion of them leaving is sad, maybe the item is absolutely annoying and you're so very excited to get them out of your hair- whatever the case, you do it.

Though things don't work as expected.

They don't return to their body... in that, the item doesn't just go silent as the bound soul zips off to reunite with its body. No- instead, the item glows, taking on a human shape. It grows, but to your horror- it doesn't stop at 6ft. Not 7 or 8.... the once-object-now-person keeps growing beyond the limits of what's humanly possible. Are they 12ft? 20?? 50?? Up to you- but they're clearly far too big to be human, and suddenly, that feeling of powerlessness they once felt is now very unpleasantly relatable.

Is it a magic mishap? Are they from another world? A different species? Perhaps they're dangerous, bound for a specific reason. Are they grateful? Annoyed? Angry???

Adhdjsfjdjd I just think there's so much odd potential from what is essentially a very odd size swap. Lots of potential for both angst and sillys and very unique fearplay, and that combo is my go to happy meal.

#very weird prompt but i love me some oddball concepts #g/t community #g/t prompts #entoprompts #sizeswap #g/t #giant/tiny #g/t shitpost