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centaurisolarflare · 1 year

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König NSFW Headcannons

It’s the quiet ones; it’s always the quiet ones. NSFW, obviously, minors DNI (SFW headcannons here). A lot of x reader babbling because I am down horrendous for this man. Again, this got incredibly out of hand, and I needed to just stop. Enjoy the filth, my loves.

- I wholeheartedly believe this man is amazing at foreplay. Maybe it’s inadvertent, but he wants to experience as much of you as he can for as long as he can. He loves just kissing you and feeling your body move against his, he wants the time to trace over every inch of you. He’s fascinated by the way your muscles and bones move under your skin and he loves mapping out any freckles/moles/marks/scars/etc you have.

- Treats sex like a skill, something he can hone, something he will make himself good at it for you. He catalogs your responses, memorizes your facial expressions, and takes careful note of how each touch affects you. He wants to be deliberate about how he makes you feel; he puts so much effort into learning how your body reacts to him until he’s an expert at taking you apart piece by piece.

- Praise this man. Do it. All the time. Tell him how good he’s doing, how sweet he is, how good he makes you feel, how beautiful he looks. He’ll blush and duck his head, but he thrives on your words.

-- He’ll whine when you grab his jaw and make him look at you. Make him repeat your praise back to you, make him say that he’s so pretty, that he’s such a good boy, make him say he’s yours and yours alone. Make him stumble through the compliments and clench around him when he’s nearly got the words out properly; laugh when he cuts himself off with a gasp and moans and flexes his fingers into your skin, and make him say the praise again.

- Marks. He wants them and wants to give them. He wants dark bruises that are impossible for him to ignore with the way they ache every time he moves his neck. He wants bite marks everywhere and he wants scratches on his back and arms. He doesn’t mind if you make him bleed with your nails or teeth; he wants to keep the stinging feeling for as long as possible. Definitely the type to press his fingers hard against his bruises to feel them hurt and to make them stay longer. When they eventually do fade, he wants you to give him new ones immediately. If you want marks too, he’ll go just as feral on you.

-- Can’t think straight when you unabashedly show off the marks he gave you. Because he knew he was doing then, he knew there’d be marks when he was sucking and biting at your skin again and again. He knew there’d be bruises where he held onto you a little too hard. But you’d moaned so sweet and told him to keep going, to cover you, and how could he have refused? Now, in the light of day, in public, with people around, he can’t help but flinch at the openness you share them with the world. Because people see. Fuck, people stare at the patchwork of mottled bruises and aggravated blood vessels on your neck, your chest, your collar bones. At the line of dark hickeys stretching from just below your ear, down the beautiful line of your throat, across your chest to where they disappear under your shirt. At the clear shape of his fingertips bruised into your hip when your shirt rides up as you reach for something – something you didn’t even have to reach for because he’s right here and the size of a fucking mountain. You just grin and wink when he puts a hand on your side and grabs the thing for you, and he goes beet red because that’s- that’s how you got that bruise in the first place, from his hand sprawled out against you, fingers gripping into your soft flesh, and his head is fuzzy with it as he snatches his hand back. And you go about your business cool as can be, as if you’re totally unaware of the people around and what you’re doing to him. You’re in a grocery store for fucks sake. It’s agonizing and he’s so conflicted because he’s so antsy about the attention, but he also just wants to mark you up even more. People see and they see you with him and they know. They know he did that to you; they know you let him do that to you. They know, and he feels half wild with it, a little drunk with how they know you’re his because you’re showing them you’re his.

-- He likes giving you hickeys even in non-sexual situations too – for example, if you’re sitting in his lap reading, he’s got his nose pressed against your neck and he’s mouthing at the side of your throat and across your shoulders, and you just end up with several bruises sucked into your skin. He just really likes doing it.

- Before being involved with you he actively tried to ignore his body. Being so tall and imposing served him well for his jobs in the military, and his muscles were a product of maintaining that use, but outside of work his build was just something that drew more unwanted attention to him. The first time you got his shirt off you took a stunned moment to step back and sweep your eyes over him, and he was immediately on edge. The nervous feeling, the anticipation of your disapproval, half dissipated when you locked your bright eyes on his with a sharp grin and yanked him down into a hungry kiss.

-- The first time you saw his cock he would have laughed – if he weren’t so nervous – at the wide-eyed, parted-lips look you gave him. He jumped in surprise when you took him in your hand and groaned at the feel of him. He timidly asked if you were alright and nearly laughed again when you rushed out a breathless string of “König there’s no fucking way you think this is average, I’m going to kill you if you think this is normal, I’m literally going to sue if you’re unaware of how fucking big you are, fuck”. He didn’t respond verbally, but shrugged his shoulders as if to say, “how should I have known?” and does start smiling at your incredulous grumbling. Nothing had prepared him for the dark stab of heat through his gut when you looked your pretty eyes up at him and said, with all the earnest sincerity in the world, “You’re gonna split me in half, big boy; I’m gonna feel you for days.”

-- Now he can’t get enough of watching your face as he pushes his cock into you. The way you whine as he guides your hips down. He is mesmerized by the visible bulge in your stomach when he’s all the way inside of you, watching it reappear each time he sinks into you – he pressed his palm flat down on it for the first time and nearly came right then and there when you choked out the most pathetic, keening noise he’s ever heard and scrabbled to grab at his biceps.

-- Fucks you against the wall, holding you up with his hands tight on your waist, sliding you down on his cock like you’re a fucking toy, listening to your punched out gasps each time he fills you.

-- He loves how he has to take his time getting even his fingers inside you.

-- Loves how he can easily hold both of your wrists in one hand and how large his hands look against your body

-- Loves when you’re on top and you settle into his lap, gasping for air because you swear you can feel him in your fucking throat, panting against his neck about how big he is. When you push his shoulders down and splay your fingers out across his abdomen and bounce in his lap. When you make him hold his arms above his head – looking down at him as you take his cock again and again – telling him how good he is, how pretty he looks letting you use him, the stuttered “y-yes ma’am” he manages to choke out when you ask him point blank if he likes getting used like this, if he’d let you ride him until you’re satiated but he’s still hard and aching.

-- Fucked you in front of a mirror – both of you on your knees, you in front of him between his thighs, with one of his arms banded across your stomach, his hand covering your hip, and the other up around your throat with his forearm pressed against your chest – and, fuck, it nearly ruined him to see how his body dwarfed yours. He held you tight against his chest, occasionally ducking his head down to suck busies into your throat and shoulders, but he mostly made you keep your eyes on him through the mirror. Watched the way your breath hitched as he fucked into you, the way you wanted to crumple forwards when he snaked his hand down between your legs but the other hand around your throat kept you upright, murmuring against your ear about how beautiful you are and how you take him so well.

- All the above size kink shenanigans being said, he won’t fuck you until you’re ready for it. No matter how desperate you are, how much you beg him to just put his cock in you already, he won’t. Not until he’s worked you open with his fingers and tongue and he’s absolutely sure he won’t hurt you. He furrows his brows with this cute little frown when you beg him and promise you’ll be fine, like he can’t believe how desperate you are for his cock, and tells you how “no, you are not supposed to be this tight, it will not feel good for you, let me relax you, let me make you feel good”

-- And on that note, he loves you absolutely dripping for him. Slick and hot and already sensitive. He wants you close to crying for it by the time he pushes his cock into you.

- He will shove his fingers in your mouth and press down on your tongue as he fucks you.

- He fucking loves eating you out. Like to an obsessive degree. He’s gotten so damn good at it that it’s impossible to say no. Sometimes when his mind is too busy and too fast, he just wants to lick into you until all he can focus on is how you taste, your hands tugging at his hair, and the sweet noises you make for him. He’s gotten off so many times rutting against the sheets just from having his head between your thighs; the first time it happened he was so embarrassed, and you were just stunned and amazed that he came practically untouched from how much he enjoyed pleasuring you like that, you had to reassure him that you weren’t mad or disappointed and he got so sheepish when you explained exactly how hot it was.

-- This man wants you to sit on his face so fucking badly but he’s too shy to say anything. The moment you bring it up or ask him about it he is hauling you up his body, desperate to get his mouth on you. Doesn’t let you hover, he wraps his arms up around your legs, fingers digging into the soft flesh on the inside of your thighs, and pulls you down until you settle your full weight on him. Eats like he’s fucking starved, cannot get enough of the taste of you. He’ll watch you the whole time he does it, starring up at you with such a blaze in his eyes that it’s honestly a little frightening, he’s so intense about it but he just doesn’t want to miss any of how beautifully your body shakes for him. You’re reminded of his sheer strength when he won’t let you up; he doesn’t even bother with words, he just makes a dissatisfied noise against you and seals you down with an iron grip. You’ll literally have to be crying from overstimulation and yanking at his hair to get him to take his fucking mouth off you.

- I think he’d prefer to give you oral but of course he loves when you suck him off, seeing you look up at him through your lashes and wrap your pretty lips around his cock. Loves watching you struggle to take as much of him as you can.

-- When you first started giving him blowjobs, he had no idea what to do with his hands and even when you told him he could touch and even pull your hair he was so afraid of hurting you.

-- Holds your jaw/cheek and hair so gently, even when his hands are shaking and he’s fucking into your mouth. He’s downright ashamed of how much he likes it when you take him too far and gag, how he loves seeing the tears gather in your eyes when you try to take him in your throat.

-- Loves when you’re mean about it – jerking him off and sucking the head of his cock until he can’t stand it but not letting him cum, popping off him with a filthy wet noise, asking him what’s wrong as he gasps and bucks his hips because you’re rubbing your thumb over his slit and it feels so good but he thinks he’s going to die from it.

- Along that topic, he loves edging and love-hates overstimulation. I think he’s got fantastic stamina so you’ve either got to have him fuck you several times or edge him within an inch of his life. Loves that desperate feeling when you bring him so close to cumming only to back off, over and over again until everything is hazy and all he knows how to do is beg you to let him finish. When you don’t stop after he cums he gets this quick sharp realization that he’s absolutely screwed because it’s too much and now he’s begging you to stop, whimpering and twitching his hips but it’s too much and he’s got tears running down his face and you’re telling him he can cum again.

-- Overstimulates you all the time because, again, stamina, and because he just fundamentally can’t get enough of you. Loves when you’re shaking, clawing at him and sobbing with these little hiccup gasps, and can barely say anything except his name and “please”

- Okay, okay, I said about how he loves watching you put on makeup. So maybe, maybe, one day he’d let/ask you to put some on him. Just to see how it looks, how it feels to have on. He loves the look of concentration you fix on him the entire time, getting a little bashful when you hold his chin and appraise your work before grabbing something for the next step. When you’re done you sit with him as he looks in the mirror and he’s shocked. He wasn’t sure what he expected from this curiosity, but it isn’t heavy, and he doesn’t look like a clown. He looks… pretty. You’ve made him look soft and delicate, like he deserves the shimmer you’ve put at the corners of his eyes and the faint color on his lips. It twists something equal parts visceral and shameful in his gut, but his cock certainty takes interest in the proceedings when you tell him how beautiful he looks and how he’d look even better with the lip-gloss smeared and the mascara running down his cheeks.

- Another thing I alluded to in my last sfw headcannons list: he’s cum in his pants before. That specific time I was talking about I think would be the first time he ever did it and he was fucking mortified. Like, would have run out of the room had you not been literally in his lap. He’s blushing so badly you can practically feel the heat coming off his face. He’s not even trying to talk; he’s just got his head tilted back with his hands pressed to his face. Mortified. He didn’t mean to. Obviously, he didn’t mean to. But you were so close to him, and you smelled so good, and you were kissing him – licking into his mouth like you wanted to consume him, biting at his lower lip, pulling the collar of his shirt aside so you could mouth and nip at his throat, barely giving him time to breathe. He was so hard it was nearly painful and all any of his senses could pick up on was you and he just. He just came in his fucking pants. And now he feels like he’s going to cry. But you’re speaking to him softly and nudging his hands away from his bright red face and you’re smiling at him. Once he calms down enough for you to convince him that you don’t think he’s pathetic he watches, transfixed, as you skim your fingers over the wet patch on his pants and he full-body shivers at the way you’re looking at him – all heat and predatory intent – and he’s still just trying to wrap his head around the fact that you still want him even after he made such a fool out of himself. It’s definitely not the last time it happens, given how much you like to wind him up, and he gets a little more comfortable with the whole thing as you repeatedly tell him how much you like seeing him lose it.

- While we’re talking about cumming, he loves to cum inside you. He buries himself as deep as possible, which is pretty fuckin’ deep, and stays pressed as close as he can the entire time he cums. Then he pulls out and holds your thighs apart with bruising strength and just watches you twitch as his cum leaks out of you. He fucking groans at the sight like you’ve pulled the sound out of his lungs. He’ll push it back into you with his fingers just to watch it leak out again.

- Tall man. Well-muscled man. Hmm. He absolutely does the Knee Thing. If you’re making out laying down and he’s half-kneeling, leaning over you with his weight braced on his forearms, he’ll absolutely be slotting his leg between yours, pressing his thigh firmly against you. The first time he does it instinctively, just by nature of being as big as he is and trying to balance above you but also be as close as possible. He’s amazed that you feel so strongly about such a simple action but when you start to buck your hips against his leg, he vows to always do it. Which means he later figures out he can shove his thigh up between your legs while he’s got you backed against a wall; and because he’s so tall he can force you to drop almost all of your weight on him, your toes barely touching the floor as you squirm.

- So, I also think he’d really like thigh-riding. He loves seeing you so desperate and grinding against him, too needy and impatient to do anything else. He loves how you whine and grab his shoulders and try to get the perfect friction. He’ll move you himself, guiding you with his hands gripping your hips. Loves how you react when he flexes the thick, corded muscle against you. Seeing you fall apart like this kind of makes him understand why you like seeing him cum in his pants.

- He is so incredibly careful with you. The very last thing he wants to do is hurt you, he’d never forgive himself. I think one of his limits is he won’t hit/slap you in any form. Even if you’re into it, he can’t shake the sickening feeling that he’d be hurting you so it’s a go-no. He was shaky but vehement when he told you it was just something he couldn’t do.

- I also don’t think he be a fan of any sort of degradation – he wants to be praised and all he wants to do is praise you. He’d never call you any degrading names.

- Loves lazy morning sex and any instance where you two have time to be slow and he can just hold you and kiss you everywhere he can reach.

- He loves tying you up, loves the trust you place in him when you let him restrict your mobility. I think he’d really enjoy shibari (intricate rope bondage). He likes the artistic and technical aspect of the knots; it’s an almost therapeutic process to create different patterns and restraints across your body. He likes how relaxed and calm you get, pliant as he shifts you around, the dopey-eyed looks and lazy smiles and contented hums you give him. He loves the way the rope looks against your skin, and he loves the marks they leave after. He loves the intimacy of tying you up, the intensity of having you tied up, and the returning intimacy of untying you – he murmurs praise to you as he removes the rope, he presses kisses at each place he undoes a knot, rubbing your muscles and soothing the skin that has marks.

-- I don’t think he’d be particularly into bondage on himself. The most he’d do is a pair of soft leather cuffs, but if he’s ever been captured and tied up or cuffed by an enemy then he will absolutely not like bondage on him.

-- That being said, I think he absolutely fucking thrives with mental bondage. You tell him to keep his arms at his sides and he will not move them. You tell him to keep his wrists crossed above his head and that’s where they’ll stay until you tell him otherwise. You tell him not to move his hips, to keep his hands on the headboard, to keep his mouth open, you tell him anything and he will do it. It doesn’t matter that you don’t actually have the strength to physically hold him down. It doesn’t matter how needy and desperate he gets, how much he shakes and whines, it doesn’t even matter if he’s crying and begging. He’s disciplined and you told him not to move so he won’t move, not one single inch.

- Aftercare king when he’s the dominant one. At a minimum he makes sure you drink water, gets you your favorite snack, makes sure you communicate how you’re feeling, tells you how good you did and how much he enjoyed you, cleans you up, and will hold you for as long as you want. This man will do anything to make sure you’re comfortable and happy.

-- When he needs aftercare, he’d particularly need lots of reassurance. He’s always worrying about whether or not he did well with regular sex so for more intense stuff he needs your soothing words even more. I think he’d really like to have you in his lap with his arms locked around your waist and his face buried in your neck, listening to your breathing or you humming, while you rub your hands up and down his back – the soft noise and the repetitive motion grounds him and he likes to be able to smell the lingering perfume and sweat-salt on your neck. He won’t talk right away but eventually you’ll get to verbally check in with him. No matter how long you stay with him he’s always going to be a little grumpy when you tell him you have to get up and get him hydrated and clean.

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acertainmoshke · 14 days

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I am officially a published author!

7 Days for Fae is a low-stakes middle grade book following 10-year-old Fae as she makes a new friend, learns to accommodate her own needs, and helps her family get along. Featuring an autistic protagonist with supportive parents, a big imagination, and a b-plot about showing her aunt that there’s nothing wrong with one of her parents being trans. It also contains 4 lovely illustrations by Marta Maszkiewicz like this one:

Find it as a paperback on Amazon or Lulu, or as an ebook on Lulu!

Full blurb under the cut:

Fae struggles to do a lot of things that are easy for other kids. She has a hard time talking, running, and reading facial expressions. She finds other things easy: reading, making up stories about fairies, flapping her hands to tell the world she’s happy. But in 5th grade it’s not good to be different, no matter how much she can’t help being disabled.

Now Fae’s aunt is moving in with her family and suddenly nothing feels right—all of the adults are quietly upset for reasons Fae doesn’t understand. Aunt Lana gets mad at her for things she can’t help and makes her feel like a baby. She just wants things to go back to the way they were.

Meanwhile at school, the new kid doesn’t seem to have gotten the memo that Fae is supposed to be invisible. He sits right down next to her and starts talking about spaceships. She isn’t sure what to do with this loud boy, but when he still wants to be her friend after a meltdown gets her suspended, it seems worth giving him a shot.

And now, as her life is falling apart, it looks like it might be up to Fae to discover if people really can change, and if change can sometimes make everyone’s life better.

#book release #actuallyautistic #disability #lgbt #queer #Trans #nonbinary #middle grade #moshke writes #writeblr #7 days for Fae #guys I have a book that exists in the world now!!!!

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whumpinggrounds · 1 year

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Writing Deaf Characters

I am making this a series now so pls drop requests if there is something you’re curious about!

Disclaimer: This is all based on personal experience and research, all of which relate to the American Deaf experience. It’s not perfect, nor is it representative of a global experience of d/Deafness. If you plan to write a d/Deaf or hard of hearing character, please do your own research! This is intended to give people a few ideas about where to start.

Vocab

Deaf = Refers to the cultural experience of being deaf and immersed in Deaf communities.

deaf = Inability to hear some or all sound.

Profoundly deaf = Inability to hear almost all or all sound.

d/Deafblind = Inability to hear some or all sound and as well as having some level (usually high) of visual impairment.

Hard of hearing or HOH = A person whose inability to hear may not rise to the level of deafness or profound deafness, or simply may not identify with the term.

Deaf of deaf = A Deaf child born to Deaf parents.

CODA = Child Of Deaf Adults. This refers to hearing children, not d/Deaf children.

Manualism = Refers to the belief that d/Deaf children should be taught only sign language and should not be taught or expected to learn to speak.

Oralism = Refers to the belief that d/Deaf children should be taught only to speak and should be discouraged from learning or using sign language.

Bilingual-bicultural or bi-bi education = A school of thought that combines oral and manual education for d/Deaf children.

Mainstreaming = The belief that d/Deaf children should be educated in the same schools and classrooms as hearing students. (More widely refers to the belief that disabled students in general should be educated in the same schools and classrooms as nondisabled students.)

Deaf gain = The Deaf community’s answer to the term “hearing loss.” Rather than losing hearing, a person is said to be gaining Deafness.

Cochlear implant/CI = A medical device implanted into the inner ear which (debatably) produces sensation that is (somewhat) analogous to hearing.

American Sign Language or ASL = An American system of communication consisting of hand shapes, hand movements, body language, facial expressions, and occasionally, vocalizations.

Signed Exact English or SEE = A manner of communicating that directly translates English words into signed equivalents.

Home sign(s) = Signed communication that is specific to the signer’s home or community, which may not exist or be recognized in the wider world.

Identity First Language or IFL = A system in which someone is described first by an identifier that they choose and feel strongly connected to. Examples include describing someone as an Autistic woman, a disabled individual, or a Deaf man.

Key Elements of Deaf History

Can’t emphasize this enough - this is a VERY abbreviated list! It is also not in order. Sorry. That being said:

For a long time in America, Deaf children were not educated, nor was it considered possible to educate them. When this did change, American deaf children were educated in institutions, where they lived full-time. These children were often taken from their families young, and some never regained contact with their families. Some died and were buried at these institutions, all without their families’ knowledge.

In the early 20th century, oralism became popular among American deaf schools. This mode of teaching required lip reading and speech, no matter how difficult this was for students, and punished those who used or attempted to use sign language. Pure oralism is now widely considered inappropriate, outdated, and offensive.

Hopefully you’ve gleaned this from the above points, but d/Deaf schooling, education, and the hearing world’s involvement are a very sensitive subject. Proceed with caution. It’s unlikely your d/Deaf character would have a neutral relationship with schooling.

Helen Keller is probably the most famous deafblind person in America. In her time, she was also known for being a socio-political activist, a socialist, and a vaudeville actress. There are dozens of other famous d/Deaf people who are a quick Google search away. Give your Deaf character Deaf heroes, please.

The Americans with Disabilities Act, or ADA, was passed in 1991, and represented a landmark victory for disabled activists in America. Among its provisions were closed captioning for Deaf individuals, ASL interpreters for public services, and the right for d/Deaf children to attend accessible, accommodating public schools. The ADA is a HUGE deal. It’s also not perfect.

In 1961, cochlear implants were invented. I was going to write more about cochlear implants here, but it’s too long. New section.

Cochlear Implants

Massively massively massively controversial in the Deaf community. Always have been, potentially always will be. For people who strongly identify with Deafness and the Deaf community, CIs are an attack on their identity, their personhood, and their community’s right to exist.

Do not allow people to “hear.” The input that a person receives from CI can, with physical therapy, training, and time, be understood and processed in a similar way to sound. This does not mean it would be recognizable to a hearing person as sound. It is often described by people who have them as being metallic, buzzy, or robotic. YouTube is a great resource for sound references.

In order for a cochlear implant to be effective, a personal will have to participate in years of training and therapy to correct process, understand, and interpret the feedback given by the CI. This is not negotiable. Even if your character just lost their hearing in an accident last week, a CI will not allow them to instantaneously regain that hearing. Nothing that currently exists in the real world will do that.

CIs, to be most effective, are almost always implanted when the recipient is very young. This decision is often made by hearing parents. This, again, is massively controversial, as Deaf activists argue that it violates the child’s bodily autonomy and is inherently anti-Deaf.

A cochlear implant, once placed, irreparably destroys any residual hearing that the recipient may have had. This is because it penetrates the inner ear in order to function. This residual hearing cannot be regained, even if the cochlear implant is not used.

Deaf people do choose to get cochlear implants of their own accord. Many d/Deaf people are very happy with their cochlear implants! It is still a highly charged choice in light of the political history surrounding d/Deafness and hearing.

Notes About American Sign Language

ASL is not a signed version of English. It is a distinct language, with its own vocabulary, slang, and grammar. Just a sentence would not be constructed the same way in Russian, Spanish, or Tagalog, a sentence in ASL would not be a direct translation of its English equivalent.

Deaf people have historically lower rates of literacy. This is not due to a lack of intelligence; it is because ASL and English are two different languages. ASL has no written equivalent. In order to be able to read or write, d/Deaf children must learn an entirely different language. This means that it is not realistic to always be able to communicate with d/Deaf people through writing.

As ASL is a visual language, many signs started out as very literal gestures. This means that many older signs are continuously being phased out as they or their roots are recognized as stereotypical or offensive. Please be careful in researching signs. I recommend Handspeak or Signing Savvy for accurate, relatively up-to-date information.

Many online “teachers” do not have credentials to teach ASL, and especially due to the prevalence of “baby sign,” home signs, invented signs, or false information spreads unchecked. If you see multiple different signs advertised for the same English word, please be diligent in checking your sources.

Not every English word has a distinct signed equivalent, and not every sign has an English equivalent.

SEE is almost never used by Deaf people. It’s rarely used and is generally thought of as a “lesser” version of both English and ASL.

ASL is a complete, complex, nuanced language. A character would not switch into SEE for a technical conversation or really any reason. Complex ideas, technical terms, and even poetry can all be expressed in American Sign Language.

Just like in English, there are some signs that are only considered appropriate for certain people to use. For example, the sign for “Black” when referring to a Black person has a modified version that is only used by Black signers. This does not mean it is a slur or the equivalent of a slur. It is a sign reserved for Black signers referring to other Black people.

Things to Consider/Avoid/Be Aware Of

I hesitate to tell anyone to avoid anything, because I don’t think I have that authority. That being said:

The Deaf community has a complicated history and relationship with cochlear implants and the concept of being “cured.” What message are you sending when you write a story in which a d/Deaf character is “cured” of their d/Deafness?

Generally speaking, d/Deaf people do not identify with the “disabled” label. Each person has their own preferences, and those preferences should always be respected. Your character(s) may choose differently than their real life community, but you should put thought into why that is.

Generally speaking, d/Deaf people use IFL. This means that a majority of d/Deaf people in America would describe themselves as d/Deaf people, rather than people with deafness, people with hearing loss, people that are hard of hearing, etc.

Okay I lied I’m going to tell you what to do here: Do not use words like mute, deaf-mute, or dumb when describing d/Deaf people. Hearing impaired is also not ideal but is considered outdated, rather than outright offensive.

The best lip readers are judged to be able to catch 30% of the words people say. How realistic is it to have a character that relies 100% on lipreading? What do you gain when you write a character that lipreads, and what do you lose?

Yes, Deaf people can drive. I don’t know why so many people wonder about this. It’s okay if you didn’t know, but please don’t come into my ask box about it.

Assistive Devices/Aids

Cochlear implants ^ see above

Interpreters. Will have gone to school for years, might have specific training for certain environments or technical terms, etc. For instance, an interpreter that works with Deaf people that have mental illnesses would be fully fluent in ASL as well as having requisite mental health training in order to interpret for them. Interpreters could be a whole other post actually, but I won’t tackle that now.

Closed captions. Self-explanatory.

Alarm clocks, fire alarms, and doorbells that use light instead of sound. This is sometimes a typical flashing light, but particularly fire alarms in predominantly d/Deaf spaces can be overwhelmingly bright. Bright like you’ve never seen before. Bright enough to wake someone from a dead sleep.

Some assistive devices also use sensation - alarms that actually shake bedframes exist and are the best choice for some people!

Service dogs - can alert people to sounds like the above - fire alarms, doorbells, knocking, etc.

Hearing aids. Generally not controversial in the way that CIs are. Only effective if people have residual hearing. Do not really expand the range of sounds people can hear, just amplify sounds in that range. Very, very expensive.

Microphones. If a d/Deaf or HOH person is in a crowd/lecture setting, the speaker will want to use a microphone. If this is a frequent occurrence, the microphone may be linked to a small personal speaker or earbud used by the d/Deaf or HOH person.

TTY: Much less frequent now that everyone can text and email, but stands for Text Telephone Device and was/is a way to send written communication over a telephone line. The message is sent, the phone rings, and a robot voice reads the message. Obviously, this is not effective for d/Deaf people communicating with other d/Deaf people, but it was often used to communicate with hearing people/hearing establishments, as when setting up appointments.

Media About/Including Deafness

No media is perfect and unproblematic, but here are somethings I have seen that I can verify do at least a pretty good job -

CODA is a movie that features Deaf actors, ASL, and a story about growing up, family, and independence vs. interdependence.

The Sound of Metal is a movie that features ASL and a story about identity, recovery, and hearing loss/Deaf gain.

A Quiet Place is a movie features ASL and Deaf actors, although Deafness itself is not necessarily integral to the story.

BUG: Deaf Identity and Internal Revolution by Christopher Heuer is a collection of essays by a Deaf man that discuss a wide range of topics. This book is not always up to modern standards of political correctness.

Train Go Sorry by Leah Hager Cohen is a memoir by the granddaughter of a Deaf man, which discusses the intersections of the hearing and Deaf worlds.

Far From the Tree by Andrew Solomon is a research book about the effect of horizontal identity on parent/child relationships and features a chapter on d/Deafness. This is a good look at how d/Deafness can impact familial relationships. Some aspects of the book are outdated, and it was written by a hearing author, albeit one who extensively interviewed Deaf and hearing parents of Deaf children.

If you made it this far, congratulations! Thank you so much for taking the time to read through my lil/not so lil primer :) If you have any questions, comments, concerns, or feedback, please feel free to hit me up! If you have any requests for a diagnosis or a disability you’d like me to write about next, I’d love to hear it. Happy writing!

#writing disabled characters #writing disability #writing advice #longpost #deafness #deaf characters #writing deaf characters #disability writing guide #hard of hearing #hard of hearing characters

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cupid-styles · 5 months

Note

wait if hockey harry spots yn at his game and is reallyyyy cocky coming up to her! but she’s actually there for another guy on the OTHER team bc he asked her out on a date (which is after the game) and harry becomes sooo jealous and basically tries to rough that guy up during the game so he doesn’t take yn on the date 🤭🤭🤭

I am simply OBSESSED!!!!!! I may also have to do a part two for this lmao

based on this blurb about hockey!harry and ballerina!y/n

word count: 1.3k

content warnings: violence, harry being a mega douche, jealousy

masterlist | talk to me

. . .

Harry's bored.

Usually, at hockey games, he's rarely ever bored. He's been playing the sport since he was three and learned to ice skate just as he started walking. Hockey is his entire life — and yet, Coach Brock took him out to let one of the newbies get some time on the ice, so now he's sitting on the bench like a petulant child, arms crossed over his chest with a frown.

"Lighten up, Styles," Coach Brock had scolded him when he saw the immature pout covering his star player's face.

So now he's waiting, half paying attention to the game in front of him. He'd played hard enough for the first period that he blocked nearly every shot the opposing team tried to make. He didn't care much to see how the freshman kid was playing — he didn't even care to learn his name, really — instead scoping out the crowded stands at the evening's game. It was filled with students and fans of the university, the energy so lively that it was almost enough to send Harry into another adrenaline rush.

Only, when he sees Y/N up in the seats, talking to a girl he's seen her walk around campus with, his heart feels like it skips a beat.

He'll never admit it to anyone (especially not her), but he's fascinated by her. He thinks she's pretty and talented, strong and funny. But Harry lacks emotional communication skills, so instead of attempting to woo her, every comment that comes out of his mouth is an insult. That's why his throat instantly gets dry the second his eyes zero in on her. It's the first time he's seen her out of her usual ballet garb, instead opting for a loose sweater. Her hair, which is always in a neat bun, is down. And she just looks so pretty.

The loud halftime buzzer sounds out, ripping Harry from his daydreams. He can't help but wonder if she could maybe, just maybe, be there to see him. The thought is enough to send butterflies rifling through his stomach. He attempts to ignore them, though, putting on his usual dull facial expression as his teammates get up to go to the locker room.

He scrambles, realizing he's getting left in the dust all because he was fantasizing about Y/N. Embarrassed, he stands from the bench, trying to quickly catch up.

Except, when he's passing the away team's locker room, he sees her in his peripheral vision, walking down the lengthy hallway with a giddy look on her face. He knows Coach Brock will have his ass if he's late, but he can't help it. He really, seriously can't help it.

"Come to see me, Cinderella?" Harry asks cockily, a smirk at the edge of his lips. Her eyebrows immediately furrow and her lips part.

"No," she says slowly, cocking her head to the side, "I'm actually here for Malcolm."

Harry squints his eyes, mentally running through the entire team. There wasn't a single person named Malcolm.

"Did you just make that up to fuck with me?" he questions, feeling irritated by her teasing.

Y/N snorts, a smug grin appearing on her face. "No, actually. Malcolm plays for the other team."

His hands immediately ball up into fists at his side, anger beginning to pulse through his chest. He wants to fire a million questions at her — most importantly, why? — when Coach Brock sticks his head out into the hall.

"Styles! Stop trying to get your dick wet and get in here!"

His face warms, his jaw clenched as he turns on his heel to enter the locker room.

On his way in, he hears Y/N's voice bounce through the interior.

"Oh, don't you worry, Coach! He doesn't stand a chance!"

. . .

Approximately two seconds after halftime ends, Harry finds Malcom's jersey number, his eyes glued in on the player on the opposing team as he skated around, missing shots left and right. He was a shit player — why the hell would Y/N be interested in him?

As a punishment for being late to the halftime meeting, Coach kept Harry out for the first five minutes of the third period. When he realized the newbie was letting the game get away from them, they both knew he had no choice but to allow him back in.

So now Harry's attempting to take out his anger on every shot that's catapulted in his direction, expertly blocking the puck time and time again. His heart is thrumming steadily in his chest, he's sweating beneath his gear, but he's zeroed in — not just on the game, but on Malcolm, too.

Harry's waiting. Desperately so. All but begging him to do something so he has an excuse to launch his stupid body through the rink, landing punches to his face so he never has a chance with Y/N ever again.

With seven minutes left of the game, Harry's team is already up by 10. There's no way they're losing this one, especially with the way he's playing. But that's not the goal here.

Malcolm attempts to shoot another shot into their net, which Harry blocks easily, using his stick to send it skidding down the length of the ice. He can tell he's feeling defeated by the way his shoulders deflate slightly, and it makes Harry laugh behind his mask.

And apparently, that's what does it.

Just as he was about to skate away, Malcolm turns to look back at Harry, despite the game continuing on the other side of the rink.

"Something funny?" Malcolm asks, skating closer to his goal.

"Fuck off," Harry spits, slamming his stick down against the ice. "Think you have a game to lose, asshole."

"Is there a problem?" he snaps, inching closer to Harry. He cackles, letting his hockey stick smack down again.

"You're my fuckin' problem." Harry replies. "Get any closer to my goal and I'll kill you."

Malcolm lets out an amused snort, dropping his stick. It's only a moment before he extends his arms in front of him, pushing Harry harshly. Bingo.

He allows him to think he has the upper hand before he lets his own stick to fall, snapping his hand back and allowing it to collide directly with his jaw. A shocked sound falls from Malcolm's lips as he attempts to keep up with Harry's punches, but he falls back against the ice before he's able to get a single shot in. His vision is entirely red as he lands one final blow, feeling two pairs of arms pull him off. He hears loud, high-pitched noises from the refs' whistles, but all Harry can focus on is wanting to see the damage he's caused.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Coach Brock hisses into his ear. He realizes he's one of the people that stopped him, his hand locked roughly around his wrist as he guides him off the ice. The other hand belongs to the team captain, Dom.

"He was talking shit," Harry mutters, ripping his arm away from Dom's grasp. He reaches up to tear his helmet and face guard off, throwing them on the ground as Coach pulls him to the locker room.

"I don't give a fuck," he sneers, pushing him down onto the bench. The adrenaline is still pumping through his system, making it seem as though he can feel every single cell thrumming in his body. "You're so fucking suspended it's not even funny, Styles."

Harry grumbles as Coach Brock leaves the locker room, slamming the door in his wake. Wordlessly, Dom follows him. He knows they have a giant mess to clean up because of his actions tonight — both literally and figuratively.

Somehow, it doesn’t matter to him, though — not as long as Y/N doesn’t think he’s an animal now.

#bestie asks #writing #hockey h

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photmath · 6 months

Text

Wrong Impressions | Trent Alexander-Arnold (Part Two)

Pairing: Trent Alexander-Arnold x Reader

PART ONE written by the lovely @karotland, would strongly recommend reading that first.

Summary: Stoic, serious Trent walks around campus with murder on his face and is quite the no-nonsense class partner, frustrating you with his anti-social antics. Flustered and feeling guilty after he finds out about how you insulted him, you seek him out at a house party to apologize only to find a whole new Trent, leaving you with a lot of questions.

Word Count: 6.3k

Warnings: SMUT (18+), suggestive and implied, drinking, cursing

Note: Huge thank you to my girl Karo for letting me write a second part, ilysm and I hope I didn't disappoint (plz lie) <33. This was quite fun, can't believe I agreed to it but I'm so glad I did in the end! Kk love you bunches bye.

After finding Maddie back up on the balcony, you plopped down hard onto the seat next to her. She gave you an all-knowing look, lips tugging into a smirk.

“What?” you furrowed your eyebrows.

“You have a look,” her eyes narrowed as she tried to piece together the pieces. “Did you talk to Trent?”

“Yes,” you reply matter of factly, straightening up your posture. “And you were wrong, turns out we won’t be the 0.1% exception because he’s going to talk to me starting Monday.” You wiggled your hips in the chair as you gave her a satisfied smile. However, instead of congratulating you for not being a part of this ‘mathematical wonder,’ she gave you a displeased look.

“You do realize what today is?”

“Friday?”

“You won’t talk to Trent until Monday?” she raises her brows, “even though you’re in his house now? And he’s—” she peers over the balcony, “—right down there? Actually, they’re making their way over here.”

You rose to the balls of your feet immediately, looking down at the raucous boys and Angela from over the balcony. There you saw Trent once again laughing at something Jude said with his arm slung over him as if he’d escape from underneath him.

“How am I supposed to make out with Jude if you’re going to be clinging onto me all night?”

You roll your eyes, sitting back down in the chair with a huff, “It’s not like I’ll be alone. I can chat with the others.” You knew Maddie was only joking, having been split up from her numerous times at other parties.

“And Trent?”

“And Trent.”

“Good,” Maddie smiles, finally satisfied with your answer. But she isn’t done yet, her lips curling up into another grin, “I saw that earlier.”

“Saw what?”

“The look you gave him.”

You didn’t like how vague she was because you looked at Trent now a couple of times throughout the night, but you didn’t think your facial expressions were very obvious.

Her gum smacked loudly as she blew out a bubble, “Were you jealous?”

“No,” you crossed your arms.

“Oh come on, you see him talking to Angela and you go all quiet and suddenly say, ‘I’ll be back.’ And then off you go, stomping until you get to him.”

“I wasn’t stomping,” you laughed, rubbing the nervousness out of your arms. Why did Maddie’s words have this effect on you? Sure you were jealous, but you were jealous because Trent never once gave you that ounce of socialization.

Maddie shook her head once before dismissing the conversation, “Do you want to go inside? I’m getting a bit cold.”

You nod hastily, glad the attention is drawn away from you because god how loud was Maddie talking? Anne seemed to still be preoccupied with the others talking about another ex from her past, but noise traveled between floors it seems and you learned just how easily Trent could overhear conversations.

Sliding back inside, the purple lights and booming music greet you once again. Instinctively, you scan the kitchen and living room for a place for you to stand and chat with friends but your eyes connect with Trent’s as the front door opens. His smile is faint but quickly interrupted once Jude tumbles in from behind him and beelines towards the kitchen where a teammate of his is pouring shots.

Trent, on the other hand, takes his time. He holds the door open for the rest of them to come inside and once Angela comes in last, she perks her head up at him. Trent looks down at her quizzically and whispers something into her ear, making her laugh while he just wears a smirk. You feel the little green monster again, like a gear wanting to turn but a rock was wedged in the middle of it so now it’s grinding loudly in your ears.

You shake off the feeling, turning completely around and facing the direction of the kitchen. Jude downs the shot and then immediately hands one to Maddie—who somehow slipped out of your grip and found her way towards him. She throws her head back once she grabs it from him. You stay mingling around the kitchen, chatting with friends and meeting the ones you don’t recognize.

Feeling a hand brush up on your arm, you turn around to see Trent giving you a soft smile as he moves behind you. You return the friendly smile back, but you aren’t familiar with the feeling that washes over you once he continues to walk past you. Disappointment perhaps? It would be a lie to say that you hadn’t thought he was coming up to you to chat. So watching him now practically steal Jude away from Maddie, you’re left a tad bit annoyed.

Just as you’re about to make your way out of the kitchen and into the living room where a few others are dancing, a calloused but warm hand wraps around your wrist and stops you. He carries a bottle while staring at you, gesturing to Jude and Maddie, “Do you want to take a shot?”

You briefly glance back at the two, their heads nodding eagerly as they await your answer. Well, why not. You concede, “Just one.”

Trent smirks, lining up four glasses and then pouring what you assume is vodka although you can’t make out the title on the bottle. The four of you down the shot at the same time, you cringing at the burn that goes zipping down your throat. But then you and Maddie holler the moment you two recognize the song that starts playing through the speakers. She reaches out for your hand to dance with her in the small space between the counters and island of the kitchen.

You don’t notice Trent’s lingering gaze on you, or the smile that can’t leave his face as he watches you throw your hands up in the air as if you didn’t care who watched.

An hour into more chatting and dancing, you found yourself desperately searching for an open restroom because seriously who was taking so long in the guest restroom? Trent nurses a red cup to his lips as you find him, standing on your tippy toes to ask, “Is there another restroom that I can use?”

Trent glances at the restroom across the hall and then motions his head upstairs. He speaks but his words are inaudible from the speaker being right next to the both of you. You scrunch up your face and tilt your head and for a brief second, he seems amused. He leans down to yell into your ear, “Follow me!”

The brush of his lips against your ears sends you in a daze. Your feet stay glued on the floor until he passes you, holding out his hand for you to follow him. And his hand. It feels like it’s on fire as he intertwines your fingers tightly with his. He gives your hand a squeeze, maybe to make the grip tighter but you don’t know. He weaves you through the mass of sweating and dancing bodies until he gets to the stairs, you both walking up still hand in hand even though no one was in the way to separate you. The corridor is dark as he stops to open a bedroom door, finally releasing your hand gently as he turns on the light.

You recognize it immediately as his bedroom, the few photos that line his dresser and the same bookbag and football bag that he carried on the floor next to it. His green sheets are neatly tucked into his bed frame, his room overall very clean for a guy.

“You can just use mine,” he points to the door across his bedroom.

“Thank you so much, Trent,” you sigh. You quickly rush into the restroom and almost freeze again at how clean it is. Seriously there was no way his restroom was one wink cleaner than yours.

Once you finish, you expect the room to be empty but Trent is still there standing against the doorframe. A couple beads of sweat line his forehead as he swipes them, then looking up at you, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you smile. “I’m okay.”

“The weather,” he indulges, “getting cold, hmm?”

You break into a laugh, feeling a little nervous to have all his attention in his bedroom after using his restroom. You stand a couple of steps in front of him, peering up at him, “It is, didn’t expect the temperature to drop so suddenly in the past hour.”

“Bummer,” he mentions. “I wanted to sit on the balcony.”

Gosh, his eyes are really brown.

Trent bursts into an abrupt laugh, his head falling forward and dimples deep into his cheeks as he peers up at you. You feel a little giddy getting this sudden reaction at him, chuckling back at him despite your heart swelling at the way he’s looking at you.

“Thank you, darling, for noticing the color of my eyes.”

You slap your hand over your mouth, eyes wide as your cheeks rush with heat, “I said that out loud?”

“You did.”

“Oh my god—”

“It’s okay,” Trent muses, he picks up his head and leans it against the doorframe. Chewing the gum he suddenly has in his mouth, you’re memorized by the way his jaw clenches over and over again. Embarrassment is now mixing with another feeling as Trent continues to look at you through his hooded eyelids. Your cheeks feel a little flushed, and you knew your mouth was not going to want to stay closed tonight if he were to continue. Because gosh, the urge to impulsively speak never felt so strong until now.

You brush off whatever dust was on your shorts, deciding to be strong, “We should head back.”

He nods, turning off the light and closing the door. You make it downstairs faster than he does in order to lose yourself in the crowd. Not like Trent would miss you, he had his eyes on you the moment he walked back into his house.

You don’t even realize you’re searching for Maddie until your phone pings, Maddie’s message reads that they’re on the balcony getting some air with some friends. As you make your way to the balcony door, you internally groan knowing you’d be a little cold but there was still some alcohol running through you that could keep you somewhat warm.

You seem to be interrupting a conversation as you sit down on one of the couches, Anne screaming at you to agree, “Tell Jude I’m not lying.”

Jude’s arm is slung over Maddie as he laughs loudly, his head falling onto her shoulder. You chuckle, “She isn’t lying.”

You fall into conversation quickly among them, only glancing up once Trent walks out. He shuts the door behind him and sits down in the only empty space next to you, spreading his legs and arms out wide as he settles in.

“Get too hot in there for you?” you question.

He nods, “Music’s buzzin’ the ears.”

You don’t mean to stare at him, but the chain necklace he wears sitting against his already tight white tee leaves little to the imagination and makes you give him a double take. He looked so good underneath this one dim light out on the balcony. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it wasn’t, but the desire to be closer to him consumed you. However, you fought it, not wanting to embarrass yourself more.

Not realizing the conversation stirred onto you, you give the others a puzzled look as they turn towards you.

“Yeah, I don’t ever see you with a man,” Anne agrees. Your eyebrows furrow immediately, feeling breathless as you realize where the conversation is going. “We all thought Johnny would be endgame, you know?”

“Aww, do you remember when he planned out that ‘date-but-not-a-date’ for her and then he had to cancel because he got a flat tire?” Maddie asks, snickering. “It was so romantic. A picnic underneath the stars, did you guys ever reschedule?”

You wanted to dig yourself into a hole and never show face again. In front of Trent? This was quite possibly one of the most embarrassing moments of your life and it was astonishing at just how many moments from tonight made that list.

It takes you everything to not look at Trent’s reaction but he stays quiet. You find the courage to say, “We actually did.”

“You two were so cute,” Maddie gushes.

Jude jumps up from his seat, “I fuckin’ love this song!” The speaker from inside the house played a very dulled-out song but it was still a bit distinguishable. And suddenly you were thankful for the existence of Jude Bellingham, especially the loud, always-interrupting person he was when he was drunk. He starts dancing alone, his cup still in his hand as he looks towards you, “Come on, dance with me.”

You get up quickly, wanting the comments about Johnny to stop before they get any deeper. Your hand stays intertwined with one of Jude’s as he dances off-beat. He was too drunk to find it or even care about it, you going along with him. The girls cheer out loud for the both of you, and you don’t even want to look at Trent to figure out what he’s thinking about.

And you definitely don’t want to care about what Trent is thinking about when the door opens and Angela comes stumbling out. She dances with the two of you for a few seconds before plopping down beside Trent, in the very seat you were in just seconds before. You can’t help it, you glance in his direction and his eyes are already on yours, stoic but glimmering.

“He’s gonna kill me,” Jude whispers loudly in your ear. You’re almost sure that Trent heard him, but you can’t even think about it because Jude’s body stumbles forward. You try to grip onto his shoulder to steer him upright but his cup goes flying in between the two of you, spilling dramatically on both of your chests.

Gosh, how full was his cup to drench your entire blouse?

“Jude,” you groan.

“Sorry,” he mumbles sheepishly. He lets go and plops down on the couch, groaning as he holds his head in his hands. Looking down at your blue blouse, you notice just how thin the material of it is and quickly shield your exposed chest with your arm. The girls' eyes widen as they turn looking for something to cover you with. Before you can even think, Trent stands up and brushes your arm and back, motioning you towards the door.

“I—”

“I can give you my jacket.”

You nod, ignoring Angela’s sulking, relieved to get some kind of solution for your problem. Trent intertwines your hands together and leads you to his room—again. His thumb brushing against the back of your hand doesn’t go unnoticed by you, you even look down at where they conjoined. The swooning feeling in your chest comes back.

“This is so embarrassing,” you mutter as you finally reach his bedroom, your arm still splayed across your chest as he closes his door.

He chuckles, “Well Angela does exist so…”

“Trent!” you scold. He digs through his closet and pulls down a dark red hoodie. He slips off the hanger and hands it to you.

“I can um—dry your clothes if you’d like.”

You cringe, “That’s even more mortifying.”

Trent shrugs, “I can be discreet, darling. Plus, why are you suddenly shy after you were practically spitting out everything that was on your mind earlier?”

You snatch the hoodie from his hand, “Earlier my nipples weren’t peeking out of my shirt, Trent.”

He smirks, stifling a chuckle out of his mouth and nodding his head, “I guess that’s true.”

You smack his shoulder with his hoodie and go into his restroom. Only in there did you notice just how ridiculous you looked with the giant stain on your blouse that drenched you. You attempt to squirm out of the shirt but only then do you remember about the stupid few buttons on the back of the shirt. There was no way you were going to be able to twist the shirt without popping a few strands. You grumble, knowing you needed Trent’s help.

“Trent?” you call out softly. There’s some rustling on the other end of the door before he hums out a response. “Do you mind unbuttoning my shirt?”

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah.” There was no other way to hold the shirt up without it being on the verge of completely falling once those buttons unclasped. You held onto it for dear life as Trent opened the door hesitantly.

Trent’s fingers tentatively grab a hold of the first button. His fingers feel too big to maneuver such a tiny button out of its threaded loop. The lack of air in the restroom doesn’t seem to help either. He felt like he was choking, as if he was holding onto his breath as he focused on the task and not your bare back.

“Almost done?” you ask, trying to control your shuddering breath. You hoped your back wasn’t a replica of your arms that were now clad in goosebumps.

“I can’t even get the first button,” he spat. His voice was curt, almost agitated that it made you grow a little impatient because he had been trying for a while now. But his voice also seemed to resonate in your ear drums, reverberating back and forth because of how close he was to you. The warmth of the room felt palpable. “My fingers are too big.”

“Just focus harder,” you grit, getting hot.

“That’s what I’m doing.”

You let out a shaky sigh, it catches Trent’s attention and he tries to shudder it away but it only makes his hands shake even more. He rests his palms against your back and it makes you squirm, not expecting the feeling of his hands on your skin.

“Sorry,” he rasps, finally getting his hands to stop shaking and unclasp the first button. “Thank fuck.”

Your knees buckle at his words, him dropping one of his hands to settle onto your waist and stabilize you. Your hips bump into the front of his and you immediately regain balance. His fingertips burn into your waist as he asks, “Are you okay?”

“Think I’m still a little tipsy.”

Trent snorts, “I don’t think so.”

“How would you know?”

His hands go back to work on the second button, “Think you sobered up quite quickly once they mentioned Johnny. Or,” he stops talking and his fingers still, “once Angela walked out. Don’t think I didn’t see your face.”

“I was dancing with Jude, I didn’t even notice her.”

“Yeah?” he chuckles. He makes sure to snicker right into your ear, “Did you forget you danced with her too?”

The last button unclasps and you immediately feel it loosen against your back. You turn around, still clutching onto your shirt, as he wears a lousy smirk. He had caught you in a lie but you weren’t going to let him win just yet.

“Like I said, I’m still a little tipsy I can’t remember.”

Trent’s one-sided grin only grows and his eyes darken from amusement to something else that you can’t quite read. You weren’t familiar with the different emotions of him, only certified in his one stoic facial expression but this was an entirely different person you were meeting tonight. One that you definitely enjoyed. This was the most you ever heard him talk.

His head falls down, glancing at the mirror and then back at you, “Alright then, darling, whatever you say.”

“You’re such an ass,” you whine, pushing him out the door with one hand.

He laughs, “Sober!”

You roll your eyes, wishing the last bit of alcohol gave you the confidence to withstand his gaze. Usually you could banter with him any way you wanted but for whatever reason you felt like you were going to say the wrong thing by accident tonight. You had already slipped up about his eyes and god you hated how you could feel that you were going to say something more. Something potentially less innocent than the color of his eyes. He had a tendency to make you not want to bite your tongue in general.

His hoodie smells a lot like him as you pull it over him, earthy and piney. You bunch your shirt in your hands, and glance at yourself one more time in the mirror before you open the door. Trent leans against his dresser, slipping his phone back into his pocket once you step out.

“Ready to go back out?”

You bite onto your cheek. You weren’t. You seriously didn’t like the way Angela was riling you up for whatever reason. Trent had already said they weren’t dating, shut that idea down quickly but it…gnawed at you? You weren’t even sure what you were feeling.

“No way,” he whispers.

You look up at him and he has an open-mouthed smile on him, was he shocked? But he also looked like he just figured out how to do a hard math problem. Your eyebrows pinch, “What?”

“I didn’t think it was true, but—I heard you talking to Maddie on the balcony when she asked if you were jealous. You lied to her, didn’t you?” There’s a smile on his face that’s he trying to control, as if he were going to burst into a shit-eating grin so wide but he was holding himself back.

Immediately you shake your head, denying, “What?”

And there it is, the laugh. His head falls back too. “Bah, c’mon, don’t try to lie to me now.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“You shouldn’t be,” he said. His voice drops down an octave, “There’s nothing going on between Angela and I.”

“Why would I be jealous of you and her?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know either.”

Seriously, how could he just hear every damn whisper? There was no way you were going to dig yourself out of this. And quite frankly you were a little fed up, from Jude spilling his drink on you to Trent taking forever in the restroom to undo your shirt. Your patience had run thin.

You groan, rolling your eyes as you cross your arms, “It was the alcohol.”

He chuckles, stepping towards you, “You usually yap, alcohol or none.”

You roll your eyes again, “I was jealous because of how easy it was for you to talk to everyone except me.”

He tilts his head, taking another step towards you until you have to tilt your head to look up at him. His smile is sincere, “We’re talking now. Even if you’re lying just a little, I’ll take it.” He holds up his first two fingers with a small gap between them.

The giggle from your throat can’t help but to escape, despite it being hoarse. His eyebrows barely furrow as he notices it but doesn’t comment on it. Thank goodness.

“Besides,” he continues, “it’s much easier for you to hear me in here than it was out there.” His hands wrap around the hood, pulling it over your head and squeezing the strands together so it tightens around you.

“Trent!” you yell, you only make out the bottom half of his body and it suddenly comes a lot closer. He’s laughing as he nudges you against the wall, but backing off so you don’t feel trapped.

You pull off the hoodie once you find your balance, “What was that for?”

He shrugs so nonchalantly that you push him back. He stumbles onto his bed with the widest smile you had ever seen from him. It looked so unnatural as it was aimed towards you that it made your cheeks feel more incredibly hot.

“Wow,” you breathe out. His eyebrows shoot up, amusing you once again. But those doe eyes catch your attention. They were so expressive without effort and it damn near put you in a trance. A trance that would’ve led you straight into his lap had you two not felt heavy steps coming upstairs.

Trent looked immediately to the door and noticed it wasn’t locked, leaping off his bed and in a few long strides he was locking it. He then turned off the overhead light and used his phone’s screen as a source of light. You hadn’t realized his blinds were open until the moon casts its shadow down into the room.

“What the fuck?” You let out the breath you held after watching him run. There’s a sudden knock on the door and the handle jiggles but it doesn’t bulge.

“Trent, I have to piss man,” Jude pleads. Trent presses his finger to his lips as he glances towards you. You would be lying if this didn’t somehow send adrenaline through you. He was seriously hiding in his bedroom from Jude of all people.

There’s another frantic knock, and then the shoving of the door. Jude’s groan sounds so loud, “You fuckin’ twat.” It’s the last thing he says before he walks down the corridor and Trent chuckles quietly.

“You’re cruel,” you tease, walking towards him. He still hadn’t turned the light back on.

“All the other rooms are open,” he shrugs. “He’ll be fine.” He opts for turning on a lamp, turning it on the lowest setting and it’s so dim that it might as well be off.

As he walks towards his bed, he stops, turning back to you. His eyes narrow slightly as you put your hands on your hips, ��What now?”

“You said Johnny and you were just close?” he starts. Of course. “But the picnic?”

“Friends can’t just go on picnics?”

He chuckles, “Did he know that?”

“Well he does now. There’s nothing between us. I didn’t like him like that, the girls just always teased us.”

Trent nods, satisfied with your answer, “Okay, enough about him.”

“Please,” you reply meekly.

“You’re the one who usually talks, maybe you should yap more.”

“Quit saying I yap.”

“Yapping about the weather, about class, about—”

You walk over to his bed and throw a pillow at his head. He goes splatting onto his side, you not realizing just how hard you actually held onto the pillow once you swung. Oops…

But he’s up in an instant, on his feet and pushing you back until you hit your back against the wall. A small ‘oomph’ slips out of your mouth that he lets go of your wrists, looking down at your face with a flash of worry, “Sorry—”

“Asshole.” But god were you so turned on with his chest being merely inches away.

And his face is back, “Oh, you’re okay.”

His watchful gaze looking down at you makes you swallow the slick remark down your throat. Wow. Where were his hands at? And just how far were you from him? It was either his eyes or that stupid useless lamp that made you lose sense of distance.

“Are you…okay?” he rasps. You watch as his throat bobbles as he rakes over your face, making you fight every urge to look away from his hard gaze.

“I’m fine,” you manage. His lip twitches as he glances down, it’s only then did you realize that his hand managed to go around your waist. You didn’t know how you didn’t feel it, especially because it went entirely underneath the hoodie. His bare hand was touching the skin of your back and your throat bubbled as he took his time slipping it out. Do not make a sound. Do not make a sound.

You didn’t have to make a sound to realize his movement awakened every fiber in your body. The hoodie suddenly felt ridiculously hot, like walking outside in the middle of summer with it on. If you weren’t leaning on the wall, you would’ve lost your balance right then and there.

And just as Trent’s fingertips are about to let go of you entirely, he lets them stray. In reality, they only touched such a small space of you but they felt suffocating, as if they were engulfing the entirety of you. Exploring you without hesitancy.

For whatever reason, whatever luck that wasn’t on your side, his lamp began to flicker until it went out completely. And just like that, a sliver of the moon’s light shined on his face.

“Did that—”

“It does that,” he mutters. “It’s old, have to give it a good tap.”

“Oh.”

Words escaped you as you felt him lean a little more into you. The sudden brain that never stopped thinking of a witty response was quiet, only thinking about how close he was. How his eyes seemed so tender. The softest they had ever been before. And gah! Even when there’s so little light his eyes look so brown.

“You had on a nice shirt.”

“Everyone saw my nipples,” you say, wanting to slap your hand over your mouth. Why did you choose to say those words at this very time?

He laughs, it’s gruff and it only goes in one ear, giving you goosebumps on that side. “Well, not everyone.” His head dips closer to your ear. “Only the girls saw them.”

“Then how did you know,” you look up at him as he reels his head back slowly. His fingertips slide to the back of your hip, finally putting his palm down and you stifle what might be a moan. Seriously, you need to get yourself together.

“It wasn’t rocket science to put two and two together, darling.”

And you couldn’t do it anymore. There were so many words and so little touch shared in the time that you’ve been pressed against the wall. You guide his free hand to your waist and settle yours around his neck. There is a brief look of shock in his eyes but it goes away as quickly as it appeared.

His breath hitches as your fingertips scratches the nape of his skin. His eyes flicker down to your lips and if he wasn’t going to make the first move, then hell you might as well go for it. Your hand slips down to his chest, balling up the white fabric and pulling him down. His lips crash onto yours feverishly, his breathing heavy as he pulls you closer to him.

You aren’t expecting to feel him through his jeans when your hips clash, so the gasp that leaves your mouth is unrestrained. God. Your hands are slipping down his chest and finding the hem of his pants but it’s so dark, the moon only shining on his face. His lips graze your neck as he squirms once you press your palm against him. His teeth sink into the skin near your shoulder as you pull on the button of his pants.

Before you could unbutton them, he pries your hands off of them and raises them over your head, pinning them down with just one hand. Did he have to look so hot doing that? You couldn’t help the whimper that left your mouth, him smirking as he pressed his hips further into you. He was so hard that you wondered if he was in pain, and how quickly you could slither out of his grasp and relieve him.

But he pulls back, and the frown you make is by instinct. He brings down your hands slowly to your side and you frown even harder, “Why did you stop?”

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“Yeah, I’m not drunk.”

“Walk in a straight line then,” he jokes, tugging the hem of the hoodie towards him.

You roll your eyes, a grin overtaking your scowl as you let him pull you towards the bed. You were so turned on it was ridiculous. He sits down on the bed and you can make out his head turning in your direction, waiting for you to join him.

“No more teasing,” you warn, unbuttoning your pants and shrugging them off. “Just sex.” You don’t even wait for him to pull you down, you settle in his lap as if you had been in this position many times before with him.

His eyebrows rise at your bright pink underwear, but he’s more amused with your words, “What’s the magic word?”

“Trent,” you grip onto his shoulders tightly as he laughs. His hands settle on your hips, teasing the area of where your panties met the hoodie. “Please.”

“Okay.”

The smile that raises his cheeks is so charming that you can’t help but to gently pinch them. But you kiss him as if he’s withholding coffee from you. So rabidly that he had to fall back onto stretched elbows to keep himself up. He dragged himself up to the center of the bed and pulled you with him.

The two of you groaned at the friction of your hips once you sat back down on him. His hands slipped underneath your—his—hoodie and immediately settled on your hard nipples. They had been bruising against the fabric of the hoodie, so the moan you let out was pure relief as he squeezed them. Your hand already wrapped around the length of him through his boxers.

“Fuck,” he grunts, hiking up his hips and shimming out of his pants. His grip is tight as he then peels off the hoodie, leaving you exposed but it doesn’t take long for him to find your breasts with his mouth and hand. And of course his other hand wandered and teased the hem of your underwear. His knuckles brushed against your clit through the fabric that you didn’t have any shame sinking further onto them and rocking your hips.

Once he flipped the two of you over, his touch was careful but firm. Very attentive to the sweet sounds of your arousal and the whimpers of every touch. He wasn’t shy about being vocal either. Especially when it came to his ragged breathing, the feeling of his breath creating goosebumps on your skin in its wake.

The feeling of his cold chain sliding down your body put you into a frenzy that you almost felt bad for how hard your thighs clamped around his head but he didn’t seem to mind.

And that chain continued to bounce against you with each thrust and that alone had you wrapping your legs around him and pulling him down to kiss you. You could feel his lips turning into a sloppy smile that it made you laugh as you pecked his cheek afterward.

Even if his face radiated with innocence, his hands sliding down to give you one more tease sure didn’t. You squirmed once his thumb landed on your clit and sure as hell wasn’t ready for the sudden pinch of your nipple with his other.

“Oh my god—” his lips slid down your jaw and neck, sucking on the supple skin. You didn’t even care if he marked you, your attention so far gone because between the feeling of him so deep inside you, his thumb circling your clit, fingers alternating between a pinch and a ghost of a touch around your nipple, and his warm mouth and breath on your neck, you weren’t even sure what to focus on. It all felt so unreal.

And yet somehow he held you as you rode out the numbing feeling taking over you. Vision clouding as you felt him slip out of you as he tenderly massaged your breasts and then let out a small gasp as he came as well. He nuzzled his lips onto your cheek and neck, breath heavy as he collapsed beside you. He pulled you closer to him and then ran his hands over your thighs in a soothing manner.

God. You almost wanted to cry at how euphoric you felt but there was no way you were going to let go of that much pride in one night.

His eyes flutter open as you already look back at him. He lets out a shy laugh, “Didn’t expect you to be so quiet.”

“I was shocked the entire time.”

“In a good or bad way?”

“In the best way.”

He beams, pulling you closer to him and kissing your forehead, “Seeing you in my fucking hoodie. I couldn’t control myself anymore.”

“I was waiting for you to rip it off of me,” you sassed.

“I knew I should’ve bent you over in the restroom and fucked the brat out of you.”

“I’d love to see you try,” you encouraged and he picked his head up, surely offended, but you were on the tallest cloud that you didn’t care. “Plus, your hands were shaking so much that I don’t think—”

Trent shut you up with his lips. His hands taut around your neck as he shushes you in the way he should’ve done hours ago.

Come Monday morning, you were starting to grow restless staring at the empty seat next to you. Trent had a minute to spare before class started and he should’ve been here a minute ago. The two of you texted over the weekend, nothing spectacular but nothing too boring. You hoped you hadn’t bothered him with too many words and scared him away. Maybe your watch was a minute behind—

A white cup suddenly lands harshly in front of you, a strong hand wrapped around it until they let go. The smell of coffee seeps out of it so strongly that it itches your brain. You look over to see Trent, a frantic but bashful smile on his face as he sits down, never taking his eyes off of you. He has his own cup as well.

“That rain, such a sudden downpour,” he chimes. “So heavy that I almost ran late.”

You can’t help that gleeful smile that stretches all the muscles of your cheeks that you don’t know existed; you must’ve look crazy, you are sure. Every facial muscle hurt in that second but you don’t care as you wrap your arms around him. He laughs as he pecks your cheek and then gives your waist a squeeze.

It was sunny outside. No chance of rain or even a cloud.

---

taglist: @lunamelona @akg2000 @0rangesuga @ell-alexanderarnold @emunds

#trent alexander arnold fanfic #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander imagines #trent alexander arnold imagine #trent alexander arnold #x reader #em.writes #te karo ❤️

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spooky-bunnys · 24 days

Note

So I'm bad with this thing, but I wanted to request a bonten where their husband is an omega only different from the others, as he is not sensitive and he orders bonten to obey (imagine him ordering him around in a meeting and random leaders are outraged by an omega ruling bonten) sorry for my english, i'm not of the english language

Title: I am Bonten

Fandom: Tokyo Revengers

Pairing: Bonten x O!Male Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Violence, Weapons, and Sexist Assholes.

Bonten was tired of this meeting already. The only thing going through most of their heads. They left their gorgeous Omega in their bed, for this meeting? It was all they could think about. It was only a matter of time before two things happen.

Either Mikey gets tired of the meeting and snaps, or (Name) comes in. The excutives didn't care which happened. They were just ready for the meeting to end. All they wanted to do was eat (Name)'s delicious food and finish the multiple piles of paperwork that was waiting on the Omega's desk.

Since their Omega was their assistant after many fails. They had their mate become their assistant and its made Bonten's work easier for them. Which made their lives easier if they were being honest. Since they finally had an assistant that wasn't just trying to sleep their way to the top. But also wasn't afraid to put them in their place.

As the company leader in front of them cleared his throat, probably to get their attention since it looked like almost nobody was paying attention. The door to the meeting room was kicked open. While Bonten didn't jump, knowing who it is and very used to the action. Their guest was not expecting the interruption.

Which lead to (Name) almost getting shot, if he hadn't already started making his way over to Bonten. But from what the excutives could tell, someone messed up. Most we're willing to bet it was one of the three idiots. "OI! Haruchiyo!" Said male perked up only to have the collar of his shirt grabbed. (Name) yanked Sanzu from his seat and glared at him.

The other members quietly laughed at his facial expression. Very quietly so they wouldn't get on their Omega's bad side again. "Why was in when I came into work expecting finished paperwork on my desk, I see the others have finished some paperwork. But nothing from you? As Bonten's second your supposed to set an example. Not FUCKING GOOF OFF!"

As (Name) shook Sanzu violently. The other watched like this was an everyday thing. Which is probably was true with how much Sanzu avoids his paperwork. Before (Name) knew it he was forcibly removed from Sanzu and thrown to the ground. The excutives jumped up to help but Mikey raised his hand.

Mikey of all people knew what happened if someone puts their hands on (Name). As someone who knew (Name) from his childhood, he knew how (Name) was raised. (Name) was an Omega not to be tried with. He'd learned the hard way how different he was from other Omega's.

(Name) glared at the towering figure and slowly got up. "Excuse you. But what the hell do you think you're doing putting your hands on me?" The air in the room immediately grew cold. The company chuckled. "You're excused Omega. Now leave so we can continue this meeting." (Name)'s glare hardened. "No. Get out."

The company leader busted out in laughter. "An Omega like you can't make us leave!" (Name) practically snarled. As he tried stepping closer to the peader only for the same male from earlier to get in his way. Making (Name) snap.

Bonten watched with smirks as (Name) threw the guard to the ground. They loved when (Name) got like this. It reminded them why they loved him so much. (Name) quickly took care of the other guards. After the last guard was down, (Name) stalked towards the leader. The Company leader looked furious as (Name) got into his face.

"I told you to get out. That was me being nice. Now," (Name) pulled out a gun and held it under the leader chin. "Either you leave and take your guys with you, or I blow your brains on the wall and your guys go to the basement." He pressed the gun harder. "You're choice bitch."

Mikey motioned the guys forward. Sanzu carefully wrapped his arms around (Name)'s waist while whispering something into his ear and kissed his neck. While making direct eye contact with the leader. (Name) huffed and pulled the gun away and growled. "Fine. Get this asshole out of my building."

The leader scoffed while ribbing his chin. "Your building?! This building belongs to Bonten!" (Name) with a straight face pulled down the collar of his turtle neck. Showing not only a bite mark, but in the middle of the bite was a tattoo. Bonten's tattoo to be exact. "I AM Bonten. Now leave while I'm still in a good mood."

Sanzu nodded to the others who got the guests to leave. Once they were gone, Sanzu turned (Name) around and gave him a sweet kiss. "Do you know how much we love you?" (Name) stares at him. "A lot. Do you know how much paperwork you need to do?" Sanzu stared. "Is it a lot?" (Name) nodded and Sanzu groaned. Laying his head on (Name)'s shoulder.

#male reader #x male reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x male reader #male omega reader #bonten #bonten x male reader #bonten mochi #bonten mikey #bonten kakucho #bonten kokonoi #bonten ran #bonten rindou #bonten sanzu #bonten takeomi

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chococoveredsmores · 11 months

Note

Like anything miles 1610. I feel like everyone is writing for miles 42 and forgetting about the og!

midnight cravings - miles morales

SUMMARY: texts at 3am + a mcdonalds notif = a recipe for chaos

WORD COUNT: 561

A/N: i love midnight snacking. mcdonalds always hits harder at 2 in the morning! also sorry i keep writing miles in like situations where he isnt usually 100% Himself (sleepy, sick) so um,.. i will get to a proper one soon

WARNINGS: nothing seriously bad just fluff, food i guess, reader doesn't know miles is spiderman, reader is highkey a simp

"Ugh..." You wake up with a groan, rubbing your eyes and assessing your surroundings. Noticing the still-dark environment surrounding you, you reach out for your phone which was on the bedside table.

2:42 AM. The phone lights blare onto your face, causing you to squint. As you scroll through your notifications, two catch your eye— a text bubble from Miles sent a few minutes ago, and a promo from McDonalds for their new meal.

Miles’ message was rather cryptic, and a normal person wouldn’t understand what “ruawkkekkrkx” meant. But a few months of these kind of typos (which meant Miles was either on patrol or barely awake), and one learns the language.

On the other hand, the McDonalds notif… if it was a propaganda technique, it was definitely working on you. You click on the advertisement, and damn did that chicken burger look good…

You decide to go back to Miles’ text. After opening the app and keyboard, your fingers feel too heavy to type… so you tap on the call button instead.

After exactly three rings, he picks up; in place of his normally spunky voice was a low, raspy one.

“Hey. You good? What’s with the random call?” Damn, his voice was unintentionally sultry as hell. Would it be weird if you started screen recording? He wouldn't know, right?

Ahem. Anyway.

"Oh, I'm fine, a little hungry though. I just didn't wanna type. Um, nice voice by the way." You hear a chuckle through the screen.

"So, you hungry? I mean, I could like, get you a snack or whatever."

"It is literally 3 in the morning right now." Though you expressed disapproval at what he said, your facial muscles tugged into a smile.

"Whatchu want?"

One link to a McDonalds meal later, you're patiently waiting in a now dimly lit room, phone in hand and still in bed. You decide to watch a show while waiting.

You're midway through your show, engrossed in a particular fight scene when you hear your window open with a click. Your fight or flight senses kick in, and you jump out of your bed and grab your phone and lamp (it's the nearest weapon, so...).

You watch as a dark figure comes out of the window in fear, you are ready to swing your lamp and dial your nearest police station when the figure raises both their hands in the air, to signify peace...?

The person pulls up their mask to show their face, one that you'd instantly recognize anywhere.

"Miles!"

You drop everything and sprint to his arms— literally nothing, not even a meteor, could stop you at that moment from wrapping yourself around his lean figure. Miles places his hands on your back, and the two of you relish in each other's presence.

You wish the two of you could stay like that forever, but the enticing smell of a chicken burger and drink eventually draw your attention towards it and you pull away from him.

"Can we talk about how the hell you got to my window with me living in the 21st floor? I seriously thought that the moment you clicked open the window was going to be my last for a few seconds."

Miles smiles and slightly bites his lips, and God forbid the kinds of things you would do for this man.

"Maybe over a chicken burger?"

a/n: to be completely honest i cringed so hard typing this fanfic but i just need to finish it so i hope none of you umm.. feel what im feeling rn at my own writing...

#atsv #across the spiderverse #spiderman: across the spiderverse #itsv #spiderman: into the spiderverse #spiderverse #atsv x reader #miles x reader #miles morales x reader #miles morales x you #miles morales x y/n #miles morales fluff #miles morales imagines #miles 1610

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mysteryshoptls · 6 months

Text

SSR Rook Hunt - Platinum Jacket Vignette

"Happy 100th Anniversary"

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Rook: The Land of Dawning's National Museum of Art… Ahh, what an exhilarating place.

Rook: They have so many spectacular works of art exhibited here… I don't think there's enough time in a single day to view everything.

???: ―Oh hey, I know this painting. This is the scene where the Fairest Queen is sending her Huntsman on a mission.

???: I can even see just how tense his facial muscles are. This painting is so detailed even to the finest points.

Rook: Beauté! You have a good eye for detail. The thin rays of light that cut through the dark room just highlights how stiff he is.

Rook: When I gaze upon this painting, I feel as though even I am being struck with a chill as cold as a winter breeze.

Ortho: But Rook Hunt-san, this isn't a painting set in winter, right?

Rook: Fufu, I know that. I only meant… Well, that I can almost feel the tension that is freezing him in his tracks.

Ortho: Guess that makes sense, since he's making an appearance before the queen. But don't you think that for someone meeting a queen his outfit is pretty casual?

Rook: I'm sure he is to head out on his mission immediately. Besides, he is very well groomed.

Ortho: Very well groomed…? Ah, yeah, it does feel like he's taken very good care of his beard.

Rook: Oui. In addition, he is someone who works outdoors, and yet there is not a single stain, let along any frayed ends on his attire.

Rook: Take a close look at his bangs. You see how they are cut short just above his eyebrows?

Rook: Essentially, that means his bangs won't obstruct his vision. He is sure to be able to keep his prey in sight.

Ortho: I see, so then, that must the best type of hairstyle for a hunter. Rook-san, you're amazing to notice that.

Rook: I, too, take caution of how lengthy my bangs can become. In the past, I believed that as long as it was short, that was good enough…

Rook: So whenever my bangs grew out, I would just chop it off with a knife, while the rest of my hair just looked like an overgrown garden.

Ortho: It's hard for me to picture that, knowing the you standing here now…

Rook: After I became a Pomefiore student and cut off all the damaged and frayed ends…

Rook: Not only did my vision become unhindered, but I ceased to find leaves or branches tangled in my hair any more.

Rook: I'm sure even the Queen's Huntsman also knew that a proper grooming regimen would help him be even more efficient as his job.

Rook: By fixing up my own hair, I came to understand just how capable of the huntsman he truly was.

Rook: In my search of perfection and functionality, I was able to settle on this hairstyle… is basically what it all amounts to.

Ortho: Huh… I totally thought that you had chosen that hairstyle because it suits the shape of your face.

Rook: Thank you. I am beyond honored that you think it suits me.

Rook: However, there is still much to improve. I must continue to refine my appearance.

Rook: It is all to improve my efficiency and my hunting skills.

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Rook: Ooh là là! These beings depicted here are the Thorn Fairy's subordinates.

Rook: Despite the dark overtone and the terrifyingly green flames illuminating them, this piece gives off a pleasant sensation.

Ortho: They're all dancing in celebration of the Thorn Fairy's successful accomplishment, right? Hehe, they all look so happy.

Rook: This painting shows just how beloved the Thorn Fairy was to her subordinates. It's wonderful that they would express their joy via dance.

Rook: Now that I'm learning how to dance… It may behoove me to express my own happiness through moving my whole body, instead of just penning words.

Rook: WITH BALLET!!

Ortho: Eh, you're good at dancing ballet, Rook Hunt-san!?

Rook: Non. I wouldn't go so far as to say I am any good at it. I've only started picking up the fundamentals recently.

Ortho: Oh, you just started… So, why did you just suddenly decide to learn ballet?

Rook: To improve my posture, of course.

Rook: We of Pomefiore must carry ourselves beautifully, not only in how we walk, but with every single gesture we make.

Rook: That is why I began my training in order to keep to the standards of my dormitory.

Rook: As to why I chose ballet, that would be because Roi du Poison… Vil recommended it to me.

Ortho: I think Vil's advice is sound. It's said that ballet can help with your core and flexibility.

Rook: You do know your stuff, Ortho.

Ortho: You said that you just recently started learning, but… You're pretty physically fit, so I'm sure it's going pretty smoothly, right?

Rook: Well… Truthfully, the road to perfect posture has been nowhere near as smooth.

Rook: I've twisted my ankle while training to stand on my toes, and I've fallen down so ungracefully without being able to keep my balance…

Rook: When I first began practicing, my muscles were so sore that even going up and down stairs was a trial in and of itself.

Rook: I realized just how many muscles I've yet to use… It has been quite a learning experience.

Ortho: Even though you're saying how hard it was… It looks to me like you're still enjoying yourself.

Rook: Yes, it was indeed a fantastic time. One time, I became so engrossed that I danced the night away.

Ortho: Your posture now is really good, Rook-san… Looks to me like the fruits of your ballet training is showing.

Rook: Oui! Also, as I had my ballet lessons, I was able to get a taste of yet another wonderful joy.

Ortho: What do you mean, a wonderful joy?

Rook: ESSENTIALLY, MY RESPECT FOR BALLET GREW!

Rook: Up until now, I would only have an adoration of the perfect performances I would watch on stage.

Rook: However, now that I've experienced it firsthand, I know just how difficult each individual technique can be.

Rook: These ballet dancers perform as gracefully as swans, putting forth such extraordinary efforts that we never get to witness.

Rook: They have honed their bodies through all the time they've spent dancing, and then these dancers take their honed bodies to bring forth perfected movements...

Rook: And then there is the spectacular stage productions that can draw out the beauty of those movements in full…!

Rook: I now have the pleasure of seeing those performances in an even more beautiful light… From the bottom of my heart, I am pleased to be learning ballet.

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Ortho: This painting shows the scene where the Rabbit Retainers has announced Queen of Hearts' arrival to her card soldiers.

Rook: We know that the Queen of Hearts had a rather strict personality, but… The expression she carries here is so lovely!

Ortho: I kinda find it funny with how the white rabbit is looking so tired beside her.

Ortho: This rabbit came running just before the Queen was set to arrive.

Rook: Indeed. There are many times that him frantically running while trying to do his tasks have shown up in other stories.

Rook: It's said that everyone could hear his running footsteps from all over the country… He must have been quite the busy one.

Ortho: Ah, talking about footsteps reminds me… Rook-san, you really don't make a sound when you walk.

Rook: Is that so?

Ortho: Yeah. I have a motion sensor, so I'll always know, but… A normal person wouldn't notice if you came up behind them.

Ortho: How are you able to walk without making a sound like that?

Rook: It's probably because I've grown up surrounded by nature.

Rook: Whenever I am with the trees, I become a leaf on one of its branches. Whenever I am in the meadow, I become a reed swaying in the wind…

Rook: As I dedicated myself to become one with nature like so, my footsteps naturally became softer.

Ortho: It sounds difficult to live in nature…

Rook: Fufu, it's nothing much. This is simply how I was raised alongside my family.

Ortho: I see… But I don't think there's any reason for you to watch your footsteps here at Night Raven College, do you?

Rook: Since it's more or less an ingrained habit at this point, it's not something I'm doing consciously. However…

Rook: Large and obtrusive footsteps can ruin a beautiful moment.

Rook: It could startle a bird that had settled down to sip nectar from a flower, or interrupt an enjoyable moment between friends.

Rook: That is why I wouldn't dream of making louder footsteps. I wish to capture as many beautiful moments and I possibly can with my own eyes.

Ortho: That's amazing… But how is it that you still don't make any noise on gravel roads or wooden floors?

Rook: If I had to attribute it to something, it's probably due to my shoes.

Rook: Whenever I purchase a pair, I make sure to request to have a size snug against my toes to the nearest millimeter.

Rook: Perhaps when one wears shoes that are a perfect fit, even footsteps naturally become quieter.

Ortho: You really think of everything! Now I'm curious what kind of thought you put into choosing a design for them.

Rook: Let me think… When it comes to designs, I often just select whatever was recommended to me by the shopkeeper.

Rook: I may be a Pomefiore student, but… I still haven't familiarized myself with selecting clothes and shoes that necessarily suit me.

Ortho: Woah… I'm a little surprised. I totally thought you'd be particular about the materials in your shoes, or the shape of your heels.

Ortho: You know how whenever everyone wears the high heels with the ceremonial robes, their footsteps are louder than usual?

Rook: Oui! I find the ringing sound of the heels clacking is music to my ears.

Rook: Unfortunately, I find I'm unable to make as clear a sound. Perhaps I'm subconsciously keeping my heels from hitting the ground?

Ortho: Heheh, really? I love your story, Rook-san, since they defy my known data.

Ortho: Thanks for sharing all of that with me! Okay, then I'm heading out to view the other exhibits.

Rook: Right, let us talk together again sometime. ―Now then, it's time to go see that one piece of artwork that I have been longing for.

Rook: Ah… The famed work of art that depicts the princess singing to the fauna around her… Why does my heart dance for joy each time I gaze upon it?

Rook: With her lips red as the rose, hair black as ebony, and skin white as snow… Mayhap the animals are entranced by her charm, as well.

Requested by @butterflyremix.

#twisted wonderland #twst #rook hunt #ortho shroud #twst rook #twst ortho #twst translation #twst birthday

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anashins · 5 months

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Could we get a ocxJaehyun where he’s kinda insecure cos oc doesn’t show she’s jealous (just not a situation where he tries to make her jealous on purpose pls🥺) and when he confronts her about it she’s like “you have no idea how jealous I am, I mean look at yourself 😭😭😭” so the rest of the story may be smth fluffy like healthy communication or just smut lmao.

Pls <3

Pairing: Jaehyun x You

Genre: light angst, fluff, romance, a bit suggestive in the end

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: After posting a picture of you and your male best friend, your boyfriend turns very jealous. After all, you're always so casual about his life, so he assumes the reason behind is that you don't find him attractive and wait for someone better to come around. If only he knew.

A/N: Thank you for requesting! I went through this 2 days ago with my bf, this hit very close to home haha

“Having dinner with my best friend in the whole wide world!”

Jaehyun read the caption on your Instagram story post over and over again while his stomach dropped in the process.

The fact that the photo you had posted did not only show food, but a guy having his arm around your shoulder while you were leaning close to him put him into a rage. And his members were his target.

Jaehyun tossed his phone back into his bag and returned to the others who were currently learning a new choreography. By the change of his facial expression alone, Taeyong could tell that his mood had entirely shifted within an instant - something that unfortunately happened too many times lately.

“What’s wrong?”

he asked with his serious leader-voice, having predicted the outcome of this situation already and wanting to prevent it at all cost. There was no way Jaehyun would disturb the entire dance practice with his jealous mood again.

“Nothing.”

How he stood there though, with the corners of his lips facing downwards, eyes dark and arms folded across his chest, now everyone was alarmed and the leader had to look over their friendship for once and put Jaehyun in his place. Again.

“If it’s nothing, then act like it. We have a concert coming up,” Taeyong addressed him. “Otherwise I will have to send you away.”

Jaehyun just grumbled something, but remained silent. His friends rather had him silent than taking it out on everyone though, which was why nobody talked to him for the remaining hours again.

When practice was over, Taeyong walked up to him and took him aside.

“I’m telling you this not only as your leader anymore, but as your friend too, okay? Talk it out with her. Either that or you won’t be allowed on your phone during practice, Jaehyun. I’m serious. Everytime something like this happens, your mood is eating you up and everyone feels it. You can’t concentrate, you can’t memorize the moves, you cannot work with the others. This has to end.”

“I’m sorry.” Jaehyun dropped his head along with his shoulders, and Taeyong felt guilty, but he had to do what he was supposed to do.

He patted his friend’s back. “It’ll be fine.” And with a grin, he added, “I mean, look at you. You’re Jeong Jaehyun. You don’t have any rivals.”

“Hey, how was your day?” you asked Jaehyun after entering his apartment.

You were in a relatively good mood as you had had a great day with your best friend who was visiting the country for a month, and since he was living abroad the majority of the time, you tried spending so much with each other as possible.

The possibility of it irking Jaehyun had only crossed your mind when he started commenting on the photos you posted kind of snarky like “Oh, you’re out together again today?”, but since he hadn’t said anything directly, you had just brushed this feeling off.

Today though, he didn’t look good at all, it was written all over his face, no matter how hard he tried to conceal it with a fake smile that he usually reserved for cringy fancalls.

“Are you okay?” you asked when you followed him into the living room. “You can tell me, you know?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. It’s just…” He took a deep breather. “I haven’t heard from you all day.”

“I’m sorry, I was busy. You know I’m rarely on my phone when I'm with people. I don’t want them to feel like I prioritize anything else over my time with them.”

He shrugged. “But there is always enough time to post on your Instagram story.”

Jaehyun could have bitten into his own tongue as he was usually very composed, but before he could redeem himself, you had already put the puzzle pieces together.

He was jealous.

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I’m just-’”

You got on your tiptoes and cupped his face. “Jaehyun… please tell me exactly what’s wrong. You know there is nothing to worry about since he has a girlfriend too and that’s just how we are together. I always told you that.”

He averted his eyes, but you remained yours. “You’re always so casual and excited about everything. You like all my posts, my stories, comment encouragingly and supportingly on them, no matter when and no matter with who. Even if I don’t find time to reply to you, even if something holds me back from returning you the same energy. Am I the only one who cares?”

“Care about what?”

“That someone might take you away from me.”

“Jaehyun…” You tilted your head. “Why would you think that?”

“Because you never reacted the same way as I. No matter where I am, what I do or what kind of videos and pictures pop up online. You never seem to be bothered, and yet here I am, not being able to return this feeling, because even when a guy looks at you, I want to get you out of his eyesight. Does it mean I’m just not that attractive in your eyes, so you’re not worried at all? I genuinely want to know.”

Your mouth stood open over the fact that your boyfriend, possibly almost every girl in your age range’s ideal type, was assuming you didn’t find him handsome. His perfect face, that graced screens, placards, phones and everyone could stare at whenever and how often they wanted. He thought he wasn’t attractive, because you didn’t show jealousy.

Of course you were jealous as hell.

You brushed with your thumbs over his cheeks, trying to ease him. “Every day, so many people get to see this handsome face and experience your kind character. Just look at yourself. Of course I’m jealous too. Sometimes, especially when you’re touring, they see you more often than I, and I get to backtrack everything online, what you’re doing and saying, after them, after strangers. And the things they write… I don’t want to see, but I cannot close my eyes. At times, the pain gets so unbearable that I have to log off and trust that you eventually call me and tell me about everything.”

Jaehyun frowned and his former dark mien shifted into a frown. “I didn’t know all that.”

“Of course you wouldn’t know, because would that benefit me in any way? No. I trust you and only you. Everyone else doesn’t matter. I don’t have any influence, so I try to distance myself from it. So, I’m sorry if you ever feel like I don’t find you attractive enough, because I don’t show it in that kind of way. It’s just… I will always get painfully reminded that so many other people feel that way too. And every single one of them would take you away from me in an instant if they ever get the opportunity.”

"Nobody will.”

“I know.”

Something inside Jaehyun cracked when he saw you being so honest and also so confident about it. So, you were feeling the same about the other, you just had different ways to express and cope with it.

Jaehyun took your hand into his and kissed your palm. “I’m sorry for being so insecure sometimes and not having more faith. We love each other, we want to be with each other, I shouldn’t make you feel down with my problem. I should be more like you. It’s the healthier way. Please show me how.”

“Baby steps,” you told him and took his hand into yours. “But first, let me prove to you how attractive I find you.”

“Maybe it will take you more than one time to convince me.”

“That’s fine.”

#jaehyun #jeong jaehyun #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun x you #jaehyun x reader #nct #nct 127 #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct x reader #nct x you #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #jaehyun fluff

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faramirsonofgondor · 5 days

Text

Watching Bobby go camping with Harry and Michael in 3x13 after knowing about Bobby’s father is actually so soul crushing. Like his facial expressions when Michael and Harry were telling the story of what Michael’s dad said to him about the forest regrowing??? Bobby trying to bond with Harry and asking questions about his grandpa??? Bobby telling Michael that Harry can see what’s going with him and that it scares him??? That they’re all trying to support Michael because they’re scared and he’s pushing them away?? Like OH MY GOD???

The way Bobby looks devastated when Michael says “so you can learn to be a family when I’m gone” because he cares about Michael and he doesn’t want May and Harry to lose their father??? Also Athena saying “I didn’t think I’d have to prepare Harry for the possibility that he might have to lose his father at 10 years old” compared to Bobby having to handle taking care of his father and not being prepared for the reality of it but still trying his best because his mom and brother left???? Athena and May being a parallel to Bobby’s mom and brother by being upset with the way he’s behaving and trying to get him to realize how serious this is, trying to get him to get surgery, like how Bobby’s mom and brother were fed up with his father and tried to get him to get help and eventually gave up on him. Also the way when Michael tells Bobby how his dad died and Bobby looks so vulnerable and hesitates before saying “must’ve been a hard time” like????

And Bobby’s face when Michael says “All I could think about is how my son would never meet my father. Never meet the man who made me who I am.” but he means it in a positive way because Michael’s father was good. But Bobby’s father shaped Bobby in a negative way with the alcoholism and stuff. Like the way Michael is trying so hard to keep his father alive for Harry and then asking Bobby to do keep him alive for Harry if he passes away, and the way Bobby immediately and earnestly agrees. Bobby trying hard to help and preserve the memory of a father as he has to watch him fade away slowly.

I NEEEEEEEEED like a thousand more fics that touch on Bobby’s daddy issues and his friendship with Michael immediately!!!!

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artificial-transmutations · 1 year

Text

Closer Than Flesh - Run

After a few hours it becomes clear to the friends that it's no use. Jake isn't even close to reproducing the things Skyler did yesterday (and those weren't great either). The sigil stone shows a faint red glow when Jake concentrates really hard, but that's about it.

"Okay, this is not working. I can't get it to work, Sky!" Jake says.

"Maybe we should try something else." Skyler suggests. "Like maybe... I don't know. Maybe we could take a break."

"What?"

"Well, I mean, I was thinking we could go out for a walk or something."

"Right... do I need to remind you that you are, well... a dick? How would you go out for a walk?"

If Skyler still had facial expressions, he would grimace. "You know what I mean. You do the walking. It's better than nothing."

"Yeah, right. Not the worst idea, I guess. I'm getting a headache trying to reverse that whole mess. Plus, I get to grab something to eat on the way."

"Great. That's settled then. Ehm, one more thing." Skyler pauses for a moment. "Would you be okay with wearing something comfortable? Like sweatpants or something like that. I think I'm a bit bigger than your, I mean, previous equipment and I don't exactly fancy the thought of being crushed by your tight jeans."

"No problem." Jake answers quickly. "I'll find some sweats in my room."

As Jake changes into the pair of gray sweatpants, Skyler’s world goes dark again. Even though the sweatpants are not quite as tight as he imagines the jeans would be, Skyler is still being pressed back against Jake's body. Once he gets over feeling anxious about the cramped space, Skyler realizes it's actually quite comfortable: It's warm, safe and comfy, and, most of all, it smells like Jake.

Skyler is still not sure how he can see or smell, but his senses seem to be confined to his actual cock-form. If Jake is wearing pants like this, he can't see anything. He isn't actually sure how it works, either. As a dick, he obviously doesn't have any eyes, nose or tastebuds. Still, he can clearly see, smell and (as he remembers) taste everything around him. Especially his sight is interesting. While he clearly experiences the world from the perspective of his friends crotch, his vision is kind of all around his shaft-body, not directed like he used to see as a human.

Which brings Skyler to another question he needs answered.

"Jake?" he asks.

Jake twitches as the voice of his friend tears him out of his own thoughts. As he pulled on the pants, it felt... weird. Sure, he had pulled on pants, and even this pair of sweatpants on like a thousand times. Each time, he had stuffed his then smaller dick into his underwear unceremoniously, without spending much of a thought on it. Just as he did a few seconds ago. But this time, it's different. It's not merely a part of his body he is handling, it's actually his friend Skyler who is still attached to his groin. This just feels so weird.

"Yes?" he replies with a bit of a delay.

"How are you hearing me?"

"What do you mean? I can understand you perfectly well." Jake was confused by the question.

"No, that's not what I meant. I mean... I don't have a mouth. Or lungs. Am I speaking to you normally? "

"Oh! No, I don't think so." Jake thinks for a moment. "I think you're talking... directly to me."

He pauses and then says: "Oh! Does that mean...?"

He gets out his cell phone and starts a recording. "Say something again!"

"Uhm... Hello? Why, what are you doing? I can't see anything from inside your pants!"

Jake stops the recording and taps the play button. After a few seconds, he exclaims: "Crazy! I think you're talking to me telepathically! There is nothing on the recording."

"That's good at least." Skyler says with a cheer in his voice. "That means I can talk to you while we're out without anyone asking you were your pants have learned to speak."

"Great. Oh! I have another idea!" With that, Jake puts in headphones. "I put in my buds, so when I answer, it looks like I'm on my phone."

"Okay." Skyler replies. "Let's go!"

It feels weird when Jake walks, Skyler discovers. It's not exactly unpleasant, but there is considerably more movement down there than he expected. After the first few steps, Skyler slips into Jake's left pants leg, where he kind of settles in a stable position. Still, every step Jake takes leads to some shifting and tugging around of him.

At first, Skyler is uneasy by the sensations, but as more time passes, he slowly starts to relax, getting used to the new experiences.

"Where are we going?" He asks.

"I just left the apartment and I'm going to the park. I think there's a hot dog stand today and I'm getting hungry."

"Ha. One good thing about the whole thing is that I'm not hungry one bit. Would be difficult to eat like this, too."

"I'm glad you're enjoying your day." Jake says sarcastically. "I still want to end having a talking dick, preferably before I have to pee again. Do you have any new ideas?"

"Okay, okay. Sorry. We could search the web, perhaps if we put in the symbol again, we find out something I didn't before. Perhaps there is some kind of manual?"

"We could try that. Beats not doing anything useful with the stone itself. But first..."

Skyler feels a bigger shift in his surroundings, as Jake sits down. At the same time, he hears Jake continue: "I have finally gotten myself a hot dog."

While Jake is eating, there is not much movement for Skyler. As he doesn't want to interrupt Jake, he decides just to hang around a bit and relax. Quite literally, really.

After a few minutes, however, Skyler suddenly feels weird. Like, *really* weird. An entirely unpleasant sensation washes over him, almost like a physical pressure suddenly building all around him. "Jake..." he groans.

"What is it?" Jake sounds unconcerned.

"Something is wrong... What is going on?"

"What do you mean what's going on? I'm eating my hot dog, and everything is fine."

"No... it's not fine." Skyler groans again. His mind feels like he is drowning. Whatever this is, it's getting worse quickly.

"Wait, no, there is something." Jake looks around uneasily. It's barely noticeable, but it has gotten a bit darker. He looks up to the sky and notices dark clouds that have appeared. Wasn't it bright sunshine just a minute ago? A cold breeze has picked up.

"The weather has changed." he comments.

"No, it's more than that. Something is wrong, like seriously. I feel weird. Bad weird." Skyler’s voice sounds distressed, and Jake feels queasy all of a sudden. He doesn't feel anything out of the ordinary, but Skyler sounds really bad. Also, the sudden change in weather doesn't really seem right. He looks up again: The clouds are even darker than before, making it considerably darker now.

"Jake! Do you have the stone?"

"No, I left it at home. Why?"

"I don't think it's safe. I can't really say why, but... we should go home. Now!"

"Why? What's happening?"

"I don't know! I just... feel it!" Skyler groans again, feeling an overwhelming sense of dread. "We need to get back!"

That is enough to convince Jake. He puts down the rest of his hot dog and starts walking back, quickly falling into a jog. He is not very fit, so he quickly becomes quite exhausted. However, there are more and more unsettling sights, which provide enough motivation to keep moving. The sky is now really dark, like just before a big thunderstorm. The rest of the daylight gives it a reddish shine that reminds him of a sunset just before the sun disappears. Additionally, very dark, almost black with a hint of red, fog has started to appear between the trees and buildings. It seems to encroach toward him with every fast heartbeat of his.

"Shit. There is this weird fog, and it's gotten really dark." he reports the situation for Skyler but receives no answer than a pained groan. Jake is really worried now and so distracted that he trips and almost falls, only barely catching himself. One of his earbuds rolls away on the ground. His first impulse is to go after it, but the raising panic tells him to don't stop running.

"Shit! Skyler are you okay?" he asks out of breath. There is his apartment building. He quickly unlocks the door and gets inside, up the stairs and into his flat.

"Something really bad is going on, Jake..." Skyler says, his voice sounding like he is gritting his teeth.

Jake doesn't answer right away. What he sees in his apartment makes him temporarily speechless. The stone, the "sigil stone" as Skyler had dubbed it, is floating in mid-air, surrounded by an eerie red glow. The sigil on it is pulsing slowly, like the heartbeat of a giant.

"What. The. Fuck". Jake exclaims. "The stone is... "

He is interrupted by a sudden, loud noise. It sounds like an elephant stomping the ground with all its might, down on the ground floor. Then, a sudden loud cracking noise from below. Jake imagines some unearthly force breaking the building door, perhaps rending it in two or...

Footsteps. Heavy, angry footsteps on the stairs. Someone is coming!

"Sky!" Jake says in short breath. "What is happening?"

The steps come closer quickly, before stopping, probably right in front of his apartment door. He can see a red shine from outside and dark fog coming through the cracks. Jake is shaking now, paralyzed by primal fear, existential dread. "Sky..."

Then, with a loud blast, his apartment door is wiped away like a twig, blasting wooden splinters in all directions. At the same time, Jake hears Skyler in his head, his voice full of panic: "The stone!"

Almost automatically, Jake finally grabs the floating stone which vibrates in his hand with power and anticipation. As he turns around to the door, his heart skips a beat. Stepping slowly through the door frame is a nightmare come to life: A large, muscular man, almost naked bare for a short leathery pair of pants. His entire skin is blood red, as well as his wild unkempt hair, which only has a slightly darker shade of red. The face is obscured by deep shadows, but Jake can clearly see a pair of bright red glowing eyes. A large pair of black horns has breached the creatures skull, ending in red sharp tips like they are glowing red hot. All around the nightmare creature is dark red smoke or fog, surrounding him like tortured souls. Especially around his shoulders the flowing smoke gives him the appearance of forming wings that extend endlessly into the fog around him.

His mouth twists into an evil grin, revealing sharp teeth as a cold and cruel voice pierces the air, ringing in Jake's ears and resonating in his skull:

"Finally."

Jake feels weak and unable to move at all. Helplessly he stares at the demonic creature in front of him, which steps closer without much haste.

He needs to get away, he needs to flee somehow. That thing is no doubt going to kill him in a few seconds. But there is no escape: The demon blocks the door and any idea of a desperate jump out of one of the windows seems too foolish to even try. There is nowhere to hide, he is helpless!

All of a sudden, the stone in his hand begins to glow brightly red, brimming with power. For some reason, the demon looks surprised, angered even. He lunges himself at Jake now, as his terrible voice shouts: "What? Impossible! With my..."

The demon doesn't get to finish his sentence, as all around him, the world unravels itself, including the demon. Jake watches in horror as reality dissolves. His apartment, the demon, the outside world, everything dissolves like fabric triturating. He looks down on himself and at first, he thought that his body is experiencing the same fate. But quickly, he finds out that while his clothes disappear alongside the rest of the world, his body stays solid.

Solid, but not necessarily unchanged. Waves of change wash over him, pulsing from the stone in his hand. His skin feels weird and itchy, as little hairs pop into existence. First a few single chest hairs, then a whole patch of coarse hair, then a whole pelt. They stretch down over his stomach, forming a dense trail towards his crotch. As the hairs spread over his chest and connect to his armpits, his whole skin darkens and becomes a more tanned version of itself. Not dark like that of a Black man, but definitely something he wouldn't expect on a Caucasian man, much less on his gamer body. His nipples darken to a browner shade as well.

The itching spreads to his arms and legs as hair grows in there as well. At the same time, his body becomes slightly more muscular, gaining some definition. Not like an athlete or body builder, but like someone who visits the gym regularly at least. Jake can feel his face shift and change and his chin and upper lip itch, as a short, stubbly beard grows in and his whole facial structure reforms into one clearly showing middle eastern heritage. Finally, the last big pulse from the stone materializes surroundings around Jake again. He finds himself standing in a small yet stylish apartment, held in black and white colors.

No trace remains from his old place, the destruction or the demonic creature that was there some heartbeats ago. But there is also no trace of Jake as he knew himself. In his place, there stands an entirely different man looking shocked at himself: A hairy, slightly muscular Arab man with dark hair and eyes. The only similarity to Jake's old body is the fact that he sports a really large cock between his legs.

So, the story get's going! What is going on? Who is the red guy? And why is that Jake bloke talking to his cock? Well, at least the last question can be answered by reading the previous episode! Click here to read on to the next episode.

#Closer Than Flesh #cock tf #male transformation #racial transformation

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weirdmarioenemies · 1 year

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Name: The face from Minesweeper

Debut: from Minesweeper

Minesweeper is a pretty cool game! I like it. I went through my entire life not knowing how to play it, and then a few months ago decided “I will learn how Minesweeper works” and now I like it well enough. But even before I liked it as a game, there was something about it that was always charming! Even as a silly baby, I felt positive energy radiating from this game with an honestly horrific premise, because this grid of squares and numbers was Smiling at me!

The Face From Minesweeper may register as an Emoji to you, but it actually predates them! This strange creature is a Smiley. More than a mere smiling face, a Smiley is like a sort of animal. Everyone loved Smiley! You can think of it on the level of other fan-favorite animal, Dog. Just like Dog, Smiley got all sorts of merchandise! Toys, decoration, even smiling French Fries! One day, however, the magic day finally came when world leaders agreed it was time to domesticate Smiley.

Though many would have loved to have a pet Smiley of their own, it was decided that they were unfit for such a lifestyle. Instead, they would become beasts of burden... they would be Used. The selective breeding began! Over time, they became smaller, cuter. They gained a wider range of readable facial expression. Most importantly, they were now hardy enough to be sent all over the world countless times per day. And that is how Emojis came to be! Linked gene shenanigans also led to some shaped like animals, plants, objects, even symbols! Don’t worry about it. But if you are interested, I think they released a documentary about this in 2017.

After this section in which I deliberately transitioned away from smileys and toward emojis, I would like to immediately return to smileys if that’s okay. Thank you. The face from Minesweeper is always watching... but not in a scary way! In a nice way. The face is your buddy. If it ever feels too hard, you can click the face, and its square will be pressed in, and the puzzle will be reset! No shame in that.

I wonder, where does the face end, and its platform begin? Is the face even the extent of the entity? Maybe the entire Minesweeper board is just a guy, and that’s where its face is! Minesweeper is a whole character!

In that case, then, it is even funnier that the face goes :O whenever you click a space. It COULD be that it is in suspense, since any wrong move can end in disaster, but maybe it’s just because you are poking its body! And that’s a little Weird. Evidence: it does this even if you click a cleared, safe square! It is reacting to touch, not anticipation! There we have it, Minesweeper is a creature. Also, I like to use the ease of activating this face like a little digital puppet! It is fun.

Like any creature, sadly, it can Die. However, it is at least functionally immortal and only ever in danger of explosions! Unfortunately, it contains land mines. I am becoming slightly convinced that Minesweeper (game) is, in fact, a bizarre sort of medical procedure where you help to isolate the explosives embedded in this grid-based life-form’s body. The only way to save it, sadly. And sadly, if you are not a professional, Minesweeper and its precious Face will die... but it’s okay. We have more! Just press the face and reset the game and don’t tell anyone!

If you win Minesweeper, then congratulations! You don’t get anything yourself, really. But that’s not what it’s all about. Minesweeper isn’t about YOU, the player. It’s about Minesweeper’s Face, the main character here! And after achieving victory, it is Cool. And you helped it get here! It turns out Minesweeper is all about helping another person become their best self, the story of an average schmuck who, with the help of a clever stranger, can become the coolest in town!

Lastly, I would like to show you Minesweeper as it appears as a character, in the Roblox game Databrawl! I don’t know anything else about this game! Don’t ask me about it please! I just think this design is really fun and cool!

#minesweeper #smiley #minesweeper face #minesweeper character #not mario #funky friday #mod chikako

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ceapa-mica · 1 month

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How to befriend Grand Admiral Thrawn

I AM SO BACK! And I wanna thank my friend @thrawnsboots for some ideas for this. 💙

SFW | reader is gender neutral

Taglist: @bingbongooo @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @ele-millennial-weirdo @enaelyork @jesslove23 @thrawnalani @twincesskorisoka @davesrightshoe @shoe-bag @tearyeve @blackddarling @obbicrystaleo

You want to become Thrawn's friend? Let me tell you how to gain friendship points with the Grand Admiral.

Work hard and contribute good strategies and ideas to his plans.

Be willing to take responsibility for mistakes and errors you've made.

Dare criticize him. Your co-workers would never. Thrawn is glad you're open and honest with him about your concerns.

Thrawn appreciates people he can trust and who keep their promises. Honesty and reliability matters a lot to him.

Show genuine interest in his art collection, and don't mind him explaining art for hours.

You can impress him with knowledge, specifically about art, culture and war. Even more so if he isn't familiar with the knowledge you're sharing with him.

If you want to spend time with him, be prepared for intense sparring lessons in his personal dojo.

Respect Thrawn's boundaries. Period. That goes for both, emotional and physical. If he doesn't want to talk about himself, accept it and move on, and don't be clingy.

Keep in mind that he's a busy man. So don't be disappointed if he doesn't seek you out outside of work all the time.

Learn to read his facial expressions. Thrawn's very good at hiding what he feels and thinks. Only those closest to him can read him, and when you do, he knows putting effort into your friendship is worth it.

Share your hobbies with him if you can. Cook a meal, knit him socks etc. He will appreciate your efforts.

Remember what he likes. How does he like his caf? Favorite artists? Favorite music? Favorite holonovels etc.

Gift giving is one of Thrawn's love languages (platonic & romantic), along with acts of service. He appreciates when you return the favor. Love languages are a two way street!

Let Thrawn feel included. As a Grand Admiral he has a certain reputation to maintain of course. When off-duty, he won't mind if you treat him like you're on the same eye level though. Less formality and more deep conversations.

Make sure Thrawn knows you see him as the man he is. Not only as the powerful Grand Admiral but as an autistic art nerd with an extraordinary mind.

You know you've gained maximum friendship points with this man when he chuckles over one of your jokes

Be prepared to go out of your comfort zone. Thrawn will encourage you to try new things, whether it's food, art or work related.

Thrawn is hard to befriend, but once you manage to earn this man's friendship, he's a loyal soul who will stop at nothing to support you unconditionally and who brings out the best qualities of yourself.

Let me know in the comments what you think or if I missed anything. 💙

#thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #mitth'raw'nuruodo #thrawn x reader #thrawn headcanon #thrawn fanfiction #blue man hot #star wars rebels #ahsoka series #star wars #star wars fanfiction

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calliemity · 4 months

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Orin Scrivello's Lost Head Prop: A Masterpost

Written and researched by Calliope Avery

Content Warning: Very very mild and low quality special effects gore, implied violence, uncanny valley stuff(?), Orin Scrivello's face.

Little Shop of Horrors (1986) has an unfortunate reputation of leaving a lot of really cool things on the cutting room floor. The most infamous would be the movie's original ending, a beautiful and impressive sequence of puppetry that ended up completely scrapped. However, today we're talking about a prop that never made it into the final movie in any form:

Orin Scrivello's Decapitated Head!!!

Pictured above are the only 2 photos of the prop in its original state that I can find at the moment. The left photo was taken for promotion and advertising purposes, and the right image is actually a Topps trading card! (Which I have a physical copy of, hehe!)

To put it bluntly, I am slightly (very) obsessed with this prop head. There's so much mystery around it, and everything I've managed to dig up both fascinates me and makes me very upset. So much thought and hard creative work was put into the creation of this thing, and it was left completely left out and forgotten! I desperately want more people to be aware of this, so here is my big and (hopefully) well organized masterpost on everything for your learning pleasure. Alright, let's talk about some heads!!!!!!!!!

Forming a Timeline

The earliest mention of the head can be found in an early draft of the movie script, dated February 14th, 1985. There's plenty of concepts in this script that never seemed to get past this draft, but the severed head concept was not one of them. Here, take a look!

source

This section, found on page 66 of the script, not only established the existence of the head, but also establishes the facial expression it will later take on! Clearly, this concept was good enough to be held onto once actual production started, which is good for us! If it wasn't, then this post would be a lot shorter.

Early production of the prop began after the actors were cast, as face molds of Steve Martin were created as bases for the head.

source for the left image - source for the right image

Oooo, check these guys out!!! The left one is made of plaster, and the right one is made of rubber. The website sourcing these images included a quote from Steve Martin about the casting process. Here's the full provided quote:

"These molds were taken of my head for Little Shop of Horrors. It was cast on the lot at Pinewood Studios outside of London, and I got exceedingly claustrophobic during the casting. My entire head was covered with plaster and two straws were placed in my nose for breathing. Argh." - Steve Martin

I unfortunately don't have much information about the crafting process of the prop. I'm currently trying to track down anyone who could've worked on it, but the few people I've managed to contact haven't responded to me yet. So I can't say anything concrete about who worked on it and what went into creating it. The only thing I can assume somewhat confidently is that the creation of the prop happened around the same time as filming for Orin's scenes. It would allow them to make the face molds and also match up Martin's post-mortem Orin face with the facial expression of the prop.

Here's where it starts going downhill. From what I've found, the prop was never filmed with its face toward the camera. In the workprint that I accessed from the Internet Archive, the prop appears for 2 shots, and both of them only show the back of the head. Take a look:

source - timestamp: 1:02:59

[Video description: a low quality, slightly green tinted video depicting a deleted scene from Little Shop of Horrors (1986) where Seymour is feeding the decapitated head of the dentist, Orin Scrivello, to the plant. The video starts with a man in glasses reaching into a garbage can and pulling out a dark-haired decapitated head, holding it upside-down by the fabric on its neck. The head is faced away from the camera, so only the back of its hair is visible. There are vines flailing in the foreground of the shot. The video cuts to a shot of the plant puppet laughing silently. The video cuts again to a shot of the man slowly shuffling forward while dangling the head in front and away from himself. The plant is seen on the left side, still laughing and flailing its vines. Throughout the video, there are brief flashes of light that resemble lightning. The video's audio only consists of thunder noises and an unidentifiable sound that resembles chewing noises. End ID.]

My best guess for this choice is maybe it isn't as convincing when filmed? In the photos it looks really well made and realistic, but perhaps it didn't come across that way during shots. Regardless, the head was still in the film at this point, so that counts for something!

But as you and I both know, those 2 shots were left on the cutting room floor, completely removed from the final product. The prop was left completely unused and unspoken of... except for one instance.

Remember the trading card I mentioned at the beginning? It's a part of a full set of trading cards that were made and distributed by the brand Topps. Back when the movie first came out, you could buy a pack of 5 mystery Little Shop of Horrors themed trading cards, along with a stick of bubblegum. This 44-card set is notable for featuring a lot, and I mean a LOT of images from cut movie scenes. There's photos of the original ending, there's photos from the cut sequence The Meek Shall Inhereit, and of course there's also the card featuring the prop head! However, those 2 sequences would later be rediscovered, cleaned up, and then added into the Director's Cut rerelease of the movie. The prop head wouldn't get this treatment, staying obscured, unknown, and unmentioned.

Fast forward about 30 years. A certain unused movie prop would be offered in an auction, allowing us to not only see high-quality photos of said prop in its current state, but also to allow us to know the exact materials it was made of! Without further ado, I present Orin Scrivello's decapitated head, circa 2018:

source

This absolute freak of a guy was up for auction at the "Profiles in History: Icons and Legends of Hollywood" auction on June 5th, 2018. No one ended up buying it (I would. I need to buy it actually. Please sell it to me.), but the auction gives us some absolutely divine information about the prop, such as what it's made of and its dimensions! Here's a quote from the auction website describing its materials:

"Vintage original hollow cast resin character head painted in realistic flesh tones with brown eyebrows and eyes. The 13 x 8 x 9 in. head has been polyfoam filled for stability. Exhibiting cracks to the crown, which is brittle and with other wear and age. A striking likeness of Steve Martin. In vintage good condition."

How neat! The high-resolution images allow us to see the detailed sculpting of the prop, which is still evident and impressive with its age and missing parts! The creases on the forehead, and around the mouth and eyes, the realistically colored teeth, this was clearly sculpted with a lot of attention to detail. I would've loved to have an image like this back in the prop's prime, back when it still had hair and a fresh coat of paint.

Why was it Scrapped?

This is entirely just me theorizing, but I have a feeling it's for the same reason the original ending got snubbed.

If you take the time to watch the archived workprint, you'll find a lot of cuts and changes were made that changed the tone of the whole finished project. Orin's death and dismemberment scenes got edited down a lot. Shots of him struggling and knocking things down as he falls to the ground got cut, the voiceline where he begs Seymour for help is gone. The shot where Orin's legs jolt when Seymour brings down the axe is gone too.

It's not just Orin-related scenes either! Mushnik no longer cries out for Seymour when being killed and eaten, and that's ignoring how different the scene happens in the stage musical. And obviously, the entire ending got changed so that Audrey and Seymour survive, leading to the cut of the magnificent ending sequence where all the Audrey II's destroy New York. In a way, the film got murdered and gutted of any of its real horror, with attempts to cover up any of the blood they couldn't scrub out.

In the movie's later quest to rebrand as a softer version of itself, it only makes sense that 2 shots of a decapitated head wouldn't make it. The appearance of the dismembered leg made it through, probably because it's less gruesome, but a head is... different. I obviously think it should've been kept it in, along with almost everything they trimmed from the workprint, but alas.

Tldr, they cut the head off of the movie because it wasn't funny enough.

Conclusion

This is where the information I have ends, unfortunately. I do have more research routes I would like to take, but one of them involves desperately contacting random people who I suspect could've been involved (I've tried this, I've gotten no responses from those who I've managed to find an email for), and the other route involves taking a road trip to the actual goddamn Library of Congress, which is not something I can do right now or even in the near future. So this is probably as far as I'm getting!

However! If I find anything new, this post will be updated and/or remade again, depending on how big or little the info is. For now, I think this is good enough to share, and maybe letting people know will encourage others to research this prop as well! It'll probably be easier if it's not just me, y'know.

I'll finish by saying that I think research and preservation of art like this is very important. While it's common for cool artistic things to end up cut from movies, I think preserving that those cool things existed in the first place is something worth doing. Even though this prop head was a very small part of the movie, it's clear a lot went into creating it! I feel bad that I'm not able to credit any person or people for their work, but I hope getting the word out about it will do some justice.

If you've read this whole thing, thank you so much! I appreciate your interest and I thank you for taking the time to read all this. I hope you found it as interesting and fascinating as I do!

Oh, by the way, if this post looks familiar at all, you've probably seen the original version of this post I made awhile ago. I wasn't happy with the formatting of that post, and I ended up making too many discoveries to just continue updating it. I'll keep the original up to preserve it, but reblogs will be off for it, as I want this version to be the one to go around. Thanks!

#i dont usually do this but reblogs are So appreciated #i worked on this for way too long lmao #little shop of horrors #lsoh #little shop of horrors 1986 #orin lsoh #orin scrivello #lsoh orin #orin scrivello dds #steve martin

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