#i feel like there are avenues we should be exploring

[arien-rey]

desires

cw: creampie, slight dumbification, slight impact play(choking), nipple play, dry humping

summary: miguel and you are lab partners and accidentally create a dangerous concoction <3

an: inspired by a certain professor cal audio🤭 iykyk also i didnt proofread so im sorry for any typos (i got a little lazy towards the end😭)

wc: 1.7k

in the heart of a bustling laboratory where the air was thick with the scent of chemicals and the sound of clinking glassware, you found yourself immersed in a groundbreaking project. Alongside your lab partner Miguel, a very meticulous scientist, you both delved in the world of scientific studies—motivated to revolutionize the world of focus and concentration, something people have been lacking in 2099.

within the laboratory walls, you felt anticipation and excitement in the air as you both pushed the boundaries of possibility, propelling the project forward with relentless determination.

As days turn to weeks, your passion for the project never faded. Countless sleepless nights, cups of coffee, and trials and errors ensued, but with every setback you came back even stronger than before and you believed you were finally reaching the finish line.

In just a few weeks, you've grown very close to your partner Miguel as well. You find yourselves sharing lunches and engaging in conversations about exciting discoveries. It doesn't hurt that he is both handsome and charming. To your surprise, you discover that he is single after discreetly asking your other lab friends. Fueled by the possibility you might have a chance, you start to dress a little differently. Gone are the days of "comfort-first" outfits; instead, you opt for shorter (riskier) skirts and cute blouses that accentuate your style. Maybe, just maybe, once this project wraps up, you'll gather the courage to take your shot.

That brings us to tonight. the quiet air filled with the soft hum of machinery and bubbling liquids. The lab was completely empty except for the two of you as usual, with dim steril white lights engulfing the room. Besides you, Miguel carefully measures the ingredients to be added into a bubbling beaker while you prepare the compounds. He looks especially attractive right now, with his hair messy and the button-up under his lab coat unbuttoned lower than usual. You both frustratedly hit a wall, and it seemed no matter what you added to your formula, you weren't getting the necessary results. You chewed on your lip, hoping for the best this time around when suddenly the silence was broken by Miguel’s sleepy baritone voice.

“What if we added a touch of this?” he suggests, his large hands reaching for a vial labeled “Enhancement Catalyst.”

Unbeknownst to the both of you, the label was partially torn and now difficult to read.

You paused for a moment, considering Miguel’s suggestion. His voice, warm and soothing, made you feel at ease even in the face of frustration. His idea seemed like it had potential, an unexplored avenue worth exploring. You studied the compound in his hand, noticing how his fingers delicately held the vial, the reflection of the lab lights dancing across its surface.

“where’d you get that?”

“It was next to some of the older blends we used for testing by the cabinets. I think we should give it a chance.”

“Maybe it could work,” you replied, a glimmer of hope in your voice. “Let’s give it a try.”

As you gingerly added a few drops of the liquid, the concoction seamlessly mixed and enveloped the air with a distinct aroma. Without warning, the mixture began to intensify, rapidly bubbling and sizzling, releasing mesmerizing sparks of vibrant colors. Both you and Miguel exchanged anxious looks, acutely aware that something had gone awry and instinctively take a few steps back.

“Be careful.” He murmurs, shielding you with his forearm as you both watch what unfolds in front of you.

anticipation filled the air once again as minutes stretch to feel like an eternity. you cock your head to the side curiously, watching the concoction turn into a glowing, luminescent liquid.

You sigh in relief.

“whew. good thing nothing bad happened!”

you mutter shyly, but as you inhale deeply, a rush of sweet fumes fills your throat. You sneeze a couple of times from the overpowering scent, only to realize that it has spread throughout the entire room.

“I'll turn on the vents.”

Miguel says, clearly inhaling the strong aroma too and walks towards the exit where a few controllers for the AC and such are.

You nod at him, suddenly taking a sharp breath as your heart begins to race. You try to shake it off as an adrenaline rush from the experiment, but instead of it going away, your cheeks heat up and you feel a strange tingling sensation in your lower stomach. you lean over your desk and blink, your mind spinning.

Your vision is hazy, and you glance to the side to see Miguel run his hand through his hair, a distressed look on his now flushed face.

“s-shit i think something went wrong. what is this?”

“I don’t know , but we need to find a way to..”

you trail off, feeling in a daze as you watch Miguel take a step towards your direction, his crimson eyes locked on you intensely. you took a shaky breath, your thighs unconsciously squeezing together. “.. reverse it.”

You turn and slam open a cabinet, ripping out your journal to find some sort of way—any way to reverse the effect of this sort of aphrodisiac, and Miguel did the same at his desk. seconds turned to minutes, and minutes turned to hours as your efforts turned fruitless. Unfortunately for you, the effects only worsen and your desire for him only electrifies more.

“fuck, fuck..”

Miguel groans, and you turn your gaze to see the tall man manspreading on his chair, his head thrown back, and brows furrowed as sweat trailed down his forehead. your gaze travels down his body and- oh. there you saw, in all its glory a huge tent in his pants, his hand resting by his thigh—twitching as he resisted with all his will-power not to touch himself. You bite your lip and squeeze your legs together, the unbearable heat in your core making you whimper quietly.

Miguel catches you looking and clenches his jaw.

“We can't.. let this consume us,” He strains through gritted teeth. “We need to quarantine .”

“Good idea. You stay here, I’ll leave the room.”

You replied breathlessly, using the last bit of your rationale. this was wrong, so so wrong… but your legs wouldn't move.

Suddenly it's quiet again, the silence only broken by both your heavy breathing. You lock eyes with Miguel, both your and his eyes half-lidded and the electric tension instantly snaps, and Miguel bolts up.

no words are said as he leans forwards and captures your lips in a hot kiss.

his large hands almost encompass you as he holds your hips, pushing you back against your desk. you moan into the kiss, tugging on his hair and he effortlessly lifts you onto the edge. after a few more seconds of passionate, sloppy kissing, you both pull away panting.

“Take this off, now.”

Miguel growls, eagerly assisting you and breathlessly helping you remove your lab coat, blouse, and skirt. With a gentle touch, you place your hand on his jaw, drawing him in for another passionate kiss. In the midst of the embrace, he skillfully slides the bra straps off your shoulders and unclasps it.

You gasp, feeling the cold lab air make contact with your sensitive skin, hardening your nipples. He reaches up and rolls the buds in between his calloused fingers and you moan, arching into his touch. Your body seems even more sensitive because of the aphrodisiac and his touches leave fire in its wake.

You gasp as he pulls you closer to him, rubbing his huge erection against your clothed core, the wetness seeping through the fabric and the sloppy sounds of your slick against him making you both moan.

“Miguel, please!”

you whine, leaning back and throwing your head back as you desperately trying to meet his grinds ,his hands holding your hips with bruising strength.

“I know, I know.. Don't worry baby, let me take care of you.”

He sighs, and finally after what felt like centuries he unbuckles his belt with one hand, the clicking sound of metal and leather making you shudder. He hastily shrugs his lab coat off, rolls his sleeves up, and unbuttons his pants and pulls it down along with his boxers, just enough to let his whole cock spring out .

You bite your lip at his impressive length, the tip an angry red with prominent veins running under the shaft.

“I’m sorry—I can’t stop.”

He stammers, right before he tears your panties off and plunges the tip inside you with no warning. You arch your back, digging your nails into his wrist as he plunges his cock inside you without giving you much time to adjust to the huge girth. You throw your head back and close your eyes, trying to breathe through the intense stretch. Thankfully you were so wet it slid in with relative ease.

“youre so fucking tight.. shit.”

he hisses, bottoming out completely before sliding it out almost all the way and slamming it back in. You moan, his praise making your stomach flutter. He pulls your legs over his shoulders and you gasp at how deep he is and full you feel in a mating press.

“shitt, miguel.. it hurtss” you slur, already cockdrunk as he begins to move in and out at a brutal pace, his thrusts heavy and mean. tears welled in your eyes and as they fall he uses a thumb to wipe them away.

“I know, I know.. its ok baby.. you’re taking my cock so fucking well..”

He groans, trailing his hands down to play with your clit. He spits a thick wad of spit where you both connect and rubs his fingertips against the sensitive bud in rapid, sloppy circles, making you sob. the pain from before melted into hot blissful pleasure in seconds, your mouth hanging open in an ‘o’ shape.

“yeahh mhm.. you like that? huh?”

he chuckles dryly, feeling how you clenched around him, desperately sucking him in. He moves his other hand to wrap it around your throat, squeezing his palm around your small neck.

“M-Miggy, ‘m gonna cum!”

you sob, your mind and vision going foggy from a mix of the aphrodisiac, the overstimulating pleasure, as well as the slight asphyxiation. Miguel leans forward, his lips almost touching your ear as he whispers:

“You don't know how long I've wanted this. I see you wearing your short little pencil skirts to work and how you wanna get my attention… and it takes everything in me to not pounce on you.”

he confesses, his hot breath fanning your ear, sending chills up your spine.

“Miguel…”

“Now cum on my cock, baby. show me how good I make you feel.”

he growls, speeding up his thrusting and the pace of his fingers on your clit until it all becomes too much and you let out a silent scream, too overwhelmed to make any noise. your nails dig into his wrist leaving crest indents on his skin as your white hot orgasm crashes over you intensely. Miguel groans and curses, trying to hold you down as you squirm and buck under his overstimulation touches, his thick fingers never slowing down on your sopping clit. After a few more heavy pounds Miguel follows; his cum gushing beautifully out of the sides of your pussy and dripping down his cock.

He doesn't stop for a minute, flipping you over and tugging on your hair, forcing you into an arch.

“Don’t think we’re done yet.”

the aphrodisiac’s effect is not gonna go away any time soon..

#miguel x you #miguel smut #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel x reader #miguel x oc #miguel ohara x oc #miguel x y/n #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x you #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara smut #miguel o’hara #atsv x reader #rey💋 #2099<3

[molsno]

whenever a "well-meaning" tme person starts criticizing trans women for being overly sexual or consuming too much porn or whatever it's obvious they're full of shit and a transmisogynist but it always feels so cruel because a lot of us genuinely did have no other option besides porn to explore transfemininity. like maybe that sounds gross to you but how the fuck do you think it feels growing up your entire life with your ONLY exposure to trans womanhood being fetishistic and dehumanizing porn? do you know how badly that fucks with our minds? how much trauma that leaves us with? have you ever even considered it?

it's so easy for you to sit there and look down on us for being "addicted to porn". of course it is, because it's people like you who created the conditions that banned us from every other avenue of gender expression by calling us sissies and faggots and beating us for something as simple as growing out our hair. if you don't like it maybe you should fucking do something to make it safe for the people around you to explore transfemininity in non-sexual settings. I know you won't, though, because it's much easier to call us pornsick males and laugh at us for being unable to conceptualize ourselves as fully autonomous human beings with value beyond just how sexually desirable we are as fetish objects.

it's fucking infuriating honestly. they'll say they don't believe any of those things and then start talking about how their criticisms of "porn addiction" come from concerns about how it objectifies "females". you know, REAL females, not like those "porn-addicted males- I mean trans women". they're so close to saying the quiet part out loud and it's not fucking subtle at all. next time you wanna talk about how disgusted you are by trannies jerking off why don't you go tell it to your crypto-terf besties, I'm sure they'll happily agree with you.

#kvetching #transmisogyny #1k

[flametrashira]

Hii! Not sure if this counts as a request exactly but I just wanted to say I love your works about L and thank you for feeding the L fans. I'd gratefully eat up any more L smut or anything L related you ever feel like giving us in the future. 🙏❤️ Also I don't like to give my *exact* age but I'm well into my 20s lol.

ahhh thank you. I absolutely adore him and I haven't been able to stop thinking about him since I watched Death Note. I've had this story rattling around my head for a while! I hope you like it. Also I'm sorry it took me so long to respond to this ask but I wanted to respond with the story.

Pairing: L x f!reader

Content guidance: NSFW. This is kind of a fix-it fic set post-canon. Light was arrested, and L has come home to you, his dear friend with whom he decides he'd quite like to try having sex. Cunnilingus and vaginal intercourse. Zero mention of contraception lol I let my demons take over. Approx 3750 words

You turn the page on the book you’re reading, balancing it between the edge of the diner booth table and the heel of your palm. Of course, you’re aware that L is staring at you; he often is. Ordinarily it’s simply because he feels comfortable with you, because those wide saucer eyes need somewhere to focus and you’re a safe option. But you could swear there’s something unspoken and unfamiliar between you today. He’s more talkative than usual.

“Two years, three months and… a week? Is that right?” he mutters to himself. “I believe so. That’s not exactly long in the grand scheme of things. But is it long enough?” As usual, he crouches with his bare feet on the seat, thumbing his lower lip with one hand while the other rests on his knee.

You’re used to the way L talks to himself when he’s working through something, so you don’t comment on his little monologue. “Did you decide what to order yet?” you ask, slotting a postcard from Tokyo between the pages of your book to hold your place. 

“Chocolate cream pie.” L’s eyes dart down to the makeshift bookmark. “Ah, you kept it?”

“Of course. I never throw out any of the postcards you send me from your trips.”

The barest hint of a smile curves his lips as his gaze lifts back to you, wordlessly letting you know that your gesture means a lot to him. Over the years, you and L have grown close; comfortable in each other's company, often seeking each other out simply to be near to one another. He’s the type of friend you can spend hours just sitting beside, watching raindrops slide down the windows, neither of you speaking, the silence between you as comforting as conversation.

L eases your anxieties and you– at least you hope– ease his. Though earning that trust and camaraderie has been a slow process; one which has taken two years… three months and… a week.

“That's how long it's been since we met, isn't it?” You ask, picking up your water to take a sip. “That's what you're thinking about.”

“Yes.” He picks up the sugar shaker and pours it into his teacup. “You should know, I'm debating whether to ask you if you would be willing to have sex with me.”

He doesn't even flinch when you splutter into your glass. Surely you heard wrong. “Huh?”

“It's something I'm considering,” he says, stirring the sugar into his tea, pincering the teaspoon with his thumb and forefinger and watching it intensely as he speaks. In all the time you've known him, you've never seen him grasp anything with his whole hand. “I've felt the urge and lately it's become quite persistent. And if I were to explore that avenue I would want it to be with someone I trust. That really only leaves Watari and the people I grew up alongside, which is completely out of the question, a handful of colleagues, which is… a little better but hm… no… or you. And I'll admit, I have a significant desire for it to be you.”

The world stops spinning for a moment, your racing heart drowns out your thoughts. “Huh?”

“Don't worry. I haven't decided if I'll ask you yet.”

“Uh huh.”

He looks up with genuine concern in his eyes. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No! No… it's just… I didn't expect it.”

“Well that makes two of us,” he says, sipping the tea with an audible slurp. “A lot happened in Tokyo, as you’re aware. It gave me a lot to consider, and… if I’m honest, brought home the fleeting nature of life.” He takes another sip and then stares directly into your eyes. “I think I will ask you.”

“...okay…”

“Will you have sex with me?”

“Yes.” Your face heats as his dark eyes continue watching you, his expression completely neutral. You have to admit, in the two years, three months, and a week since you met him you've wondered about it, but it wasn't until he asked that you realized just how badly you want him. “Yes I will.”

“Thank you.” He lowers his gaze to the menu in front of him, worrying his lips with the tip of his thumb. “Maybe I want strawberry shortcake instead of chocolate cream. Hm… that’s a conundrum.”

“You could get both?” you suggest with a playful smile, trying to relieve a little of the tension you’re feeling. “You successfully cracked the Kira case, and got home safely. We should celebrate.”

His wide eyes dart to you for a moment, shock registering over his face as he considers it. “Yes, you’re right. Both. One for now and one for after we're done. That sounds like it could be nice.”

“You want to.. um…do it tonight?”

“Yes. I was thinking we could after we're finished here. Is that alright?”

You nod, still a little thrown off kilter by this sudden turn of events. But is it really all that sudden? You’ve felt something more than friendship toward L for a while now, and he’s comfortable around you, he likes to spend time with you; you’re soothing to him in a way, just as he is to you. 

And, to be frank, L’s handsome. And completely unaware of it which only makes him hotter. 

However, you can’t help but question whether it will change things between you. Will your friendship suffer for the sake of one night?

“I promise I won’t be weird about it,” L says, his gaze fixed on you once more. He always has had a way of figuring out exactly what you’re thinking, almost as if he can read your mind. But no, he’s just that smart and that good at reading people. “We can go right back to being friends afterward if we wish. Communication is key. And of course, if you’re in any way uncomfortable or hesitant–”

“I’m not. I want this.” Your sudden admission makes his eyes widen and your heart skip. Yes, you want it. You want him. Bad. 

***

It’s a little after eight when Watari drops you both off at a hotel. 

“I figured a neutral place would work best for us,” L explains as you step into the elevator beside him and the porter presses the button for the top floor suite. “That way either of us can simply leave if…” he trails off, staring straight ahead for a moment before his gaze turns back to you. “I’m sure we’ll have… It’ll be… hm… is fun the right word? It sounds wrong.”

The air between you grows heavy as you stand side-by-side, the porter’s presence holding you back from saying everything you want to. An overwhelming need to reassure L, to make sure he knows that you want him to feel good in every conceivable way, from physical pleasure to comfort and safety, fills you, but the words sit behind a dam at the back of your throat.

When you glance over at L, he’s watching you, his wide eyes studying your facial expressions. And then he side-steps closer to you, the back of his hand nudging yours; such a simple and casual gesture that lets you know he’s there. 

“Fun, yeah,” you say. 

“Okay, so if you start laughing it means I’m doing well. Understood.” 

He delivers the line so flatly it makes you splutter, drawing the attention of the porter. And just like that he sets you at ease; L, your strange, brilliant, enigmatic friend. 

Your friend who takes you up to the hotel's penthouse suite with every intention of fucking you, but who first gives you a tour, opening the fully stocked refrigerator and telling you to help yourself. 

“I asked them to provide refreshments. Sex burns calories and it seemed polite to make sure your energy reserves were replenished,” he says, pushing aside a plate of chocolate eclairs to place his strawberry shortcake from the diner into the fridge.

He then takes you to the bathroom, instructs you on how to turn on the shower and adjust the heat. Then demonstrates the functions of the TVs remote control and the numbers to dial for room service as displayed on the phone by the bedside. And then–

"L… are you nervous?”

“Ah, is it obvious?”

“A little. But it's okay,” you say, gently taking his hand in yours. “I kinda am too.”

“I’m… struggling with the issue of initiation,” he says flatly, glancing down at your joined hands. “If you wouldn’t mind… taking the lead.”

“Okay,” you say, stepping toward him. “How about we start with kissing?”

“Kissing? Yes. We’ll try that.”

Your heart thrums as you lean in and L mirrors your movement, the space between you shrinking by tentative inches. L’s eyes remain wide open as you close the gap and allow your lips to touch his, an almost painful dart of excitement shooting through you at the sensation. 

He inhales sharply, draws back, and then leans in once again.

His lips are stiff at first, but warm, and still taste faintly of chocolate cake. The first few moments consist of you kissing L, and him standing frozen like a deer in the headlights. Fearing he’s not into it you pull back, only for him to close the gap again instantly, this time his lips seeking yours. Only the very tips of his fingers rest on your shoulders, as though he isn’t quite sure what to do with his hands. His kiss is soft and shallow; little butterfly kisses which cause a giddy, tingling sensation to bubble in your chest.

His tongue shyly flicks against your lower lip, seeking affirmation and permission. And you grant it, winding your arms around his waist and pulling him closer, rewarded for your boldness with another low, approving groan. 

His fingers cautiously slide up to your neck before coming to rest on your jaw. A quiet rumble of pleasure emerges from his throat as his confidence grows and his kiss deepens, and before long, L is kissing you like your lips contain the answers to every one of the world’s mysteries.

Those little sounds of pleasure hum against your lips. And when you open your eyes to check whether his are still wide, you find he's closed them, his dark eyelashes resting on his cheeks, his expression serene and lost in the sensation of your kiss. 

“Hm…” he mutters as you break apart for air. “I’m enjoying this more than I thought I would.”

“Good, me too.”

“I’m aware how clinical this sounds but I have researched different ways to approach the physical aspect, and the universal consensus from both reputable and anecdotal sources is that we will both enjoy it much more if… you are… aroused.” He looks up and away for a moment, tracing the lower ridge of his lip with his thumb as if trying to recall something. “If you’re…wet.”

“Oh, well, yeah–”

He draws closer, his breath warm as he whispers by your ear, “Then I want to get you wet.”

L has always had a way of putting things plainly.

The air catches in your lungs, a preemptive pulse of pleasure throbbing between your thighs as his lips begin to explore the sensitive skin of your neck.. He kisses you slowly, his tongue teasing, teeth gently grazing.

“I’ve read that neck kisses help,” he mutters, his words muffled against your skin. “As well as stimulating your breasts and your clitoris with my fingers… and my tongue. The thought of that appeals to me. I would like to try it.”

“Hah… of course. You’re already doing… doing a good job…” you breathe out as he continues to kiss your throat, his unruly black hair tickling your jaw and shoulder, his fingers ever-so-gently mapping the curve of your waist. 

After a moment he pulls back, studying your face before his gaze drops to your lips. “Really? Interesting. I’d thought it would be harder; pun not intended but it deserves to be recognized nevertheless. I do have an erection simply from kissing you. But while our genitals seem to already reached near optimal physical states for sex to occur, I would still like to continue, as planned, with exploration and cunnilingus if you’re happy to proceed–” His words are cut off as you return his gesture, kissing the firm column of his neck, your tongue sliding up the deep groove of muscle traversing its length. “Oh! Oh…”

“That good?” 

He nods. “Extremely so-hoh.”

He’s so responsive to your touch, his breath catching in his throat, his fingers trembling against your upper arms. You very quickly become proficient at pulling gasps and breathy moans from him, every inch of him so incredibly sensitive. A choked groan emerges from him as your hands wander down to the hem of his shirt, your fingers caressing the warm, supple skin of his abdomen and the coarse trail of hair leading down to his waistband. 

You break away from kissing his neck long enough to pull his shirt up over his head, your hands coming to rest in the subtle curve of his waist. He follows your lead, tugging at your top, breath heavy, hands clumsy and eager. The moment your skin is exposed he tilts his hips toward you, back arching so he can press his body to yours. Hungry for the comfort of your touch, your skin against his, your warmth, your softness. He soaks it in, his lips finding yours once more. 

When he slips down his jeans without pulling away from your lips, his cock prods at you through his boxers, just as eager as the rest of him, and unmistakably large. 

And he's so hungry for you, so keen to experience it all. The moment you unclasp your bra and toss it aside, his mouth is on your breasts, deep groans telegraphing his pleasure. He kisses them so softly, so carefully you find yourself arching up against his mouth, silently demanding more. He laps at your nipples and traces the swell of your breasts with his fingertips. Maddeningly gentle. Deliciously sweet.

Together, you shed off the rest of your clothes and stumble toward the bed. You sit on the edge of the mattress while he bends down, following you, unwilling to take his mouth off you for even a second. Your hands trace the lean shape of his body, his pale skin pebbling at your touch.

His kisses trail down your chest, your belly, your hips; his lips leaving tingles of pleasure in their wake. Slender fingers part your thighs as he crouches between them, his breath warm against your pussy. A quiet hum of contemplation rolls from his throat and he touches his fingertip to your clit. Those wide eyes gaze at you, somehow filled with both knowledge and innocence, and an unspoken question you hear loud and clear…

Is this right? 

“Yes…” it’s all you can choke out before he sticks out his tongue and licks. 

The sudden shock of pleasure pulls a gasp from you. His tongue is slippery, soft, warm, and hesitant at first until he gets the taste for you and a switch flips. If some part of you had worried that he wouldn't like the taste, you're dead wrong. L devours you, his tongue slipping between your pussy lips, dragging along your slit, circling and lapping at your clit. His groans reverberate through you, his face buried eagerly between your thighs, hands greedily keeping them apart, feathery black hair tickling your skin.

Perhaps it shouldn't come as a surprise he’s good with his mouth– you've watched him tie cherry stalks with his tongue after all– but the fervent hunger, his insatiable desire to taste you, that you didn't expect.

And apparently, neither did he. He pulls back briefly, his ashen cheeks for once a little pinker, his eyelids heavy and unable to tear their gaze from your pussy. 

“This… might actually be better than cake.”

You laugh, despite your frustration at the loss of his touch. “Don't stop…”

“Oh! Right…” he leans in, placing a slow, open mouthed kiss on your clit, his tongue so soft and gentle you find yourself arching your back, rocking your hips against his mouth, desperate for more pressure. 

Dark eyes flick up to you, and you can tell he's pleased, he enjoys your reactions. Just as he enjoys it when you run your hands through his hair, stopping at the back of his head, gently holding him against you. He reads your body language perfectly, picking up the pace, increasing the pressure, licking you with renewed fervor, driving you closer… closer…

“Mmhhh… hmmm…” he murmurs, fingers digging slightly deeper into the plush of your thighs when they start to tremble. Every breath huffs from his nose as he refuses to let up, his lips forming a tight seal around your clit as he licks and licks. The wet, sucking sound of his mouth against your tender flesh makes it all the better; so lewd, so utterly primal. 

And when you cum, his eyes shoot back up to you, his expression a mix of shock and wonder at the sensation of your pussy pulsing beneath his lips. He doesn’t let up until you tell him to, and even then he’s slow to do so, sighing softly as he tenderly and affectionately kisses your throbbing clit. 

When he rocks back on his heels, still crouched, he’s hazy-eyed, flushed, breathless. A creamy bead of pre-cum trickles from the tip of his cock as he licks his lips. “I enjoyed that far more than I expected I would. If you asked me to do it again, I doubt I’d hesitate.”

You nod, heat tingling beneath the surface of your skin. “You’re good at it.”

“Ah! Good.” He glances down at his weeping cock. “Are you still happy to continue?”

“God, yes.”

“Oh, we’re at the petnames stage already? I’m flattered.” He pauses, staring directly into your eyes. “That was an attempt at a joke, I believe I’m deflecting a little, trying to mask my nerves with humor.”

Oh L… you can’t help but feel so hopelessly endeared to him. This sweet, strange, wonderful man who just ate your pussy like it was his first meal in years, and yet still feels nervous when really you’re already completely satisfied.

“How about if I take the lead? You can just lie back and… feel…” you offer.

He contemplates it for a moment, tapping his thumb against his cupid’s bow. “Yes. I think I would like that. And you can have extra cake later for doing all the hard work. That was another attempt at humor.”

“Cake and sex? Win win.” You pat the bed beside you. “Come on, we’ll take it nice and easy. I’ll stop when you say when.”

“I’m very glad I asked you to share this with me,” he says as he climbs onto the bed and lies back, one hand resting on his stomach, the other still worrying his lips. “I feel… safe. Comfortable. There’s a sense of belonging here with you which makes this all far more pleasant and… a little less terrifying.”

“There’s no need to be scared,” you say softly, kissing the fingers resting on his lips as you straddle him. 

“Rest assured I do feel safe with you. But… I do feel a little exposed laid out flat like this. It isn’t a natural position for me to be in. Would you mind if I…” He experimentally bends his legs, raising his knees so his thighs are flush with your ass. “Is this okay?”

It means you have to keep your weight forward, your hands braced on the pillow either side of his head and your chest flush with his. But it also means your faces are close; close enough to kiss, close enough that you can take his hand in yours, interlocking your fingers together on the pillow. “It’s more than okay.”

“This. This is nice,” he whispers,” the tip of his nose grazing against yours. “I feel good. Safe. Thank you.”

You treat him so tenderly he shivers as you kiss his lips, his jaw, then down his neck to his chest. His breath catches as your lips graze his nipple, and his hips jut upward against you. The moment the head of his cock nudges your pussy his eyes widen and his lips part.

“Certainly… very wet. And warm.” His other hand darts down to hold your hip, subtly urging you downward. 

The tip of his cock feels almost impossibly fat against your entrance. You kiss your way back up his throat to look him in the eyes. “Yes?”

“Yes!” He quivers, nodding to reaffirm his consent, eyes wide, lips open around his heavy breaths. “Continue. I want to… feel… oh…” He freezes the moment you lower yourself onto him and feels your wet heat consume him. “Oh… you are… extremely warm. Soft. Hoh… wet…”

You kiss him softly, smiling that his usual eloquence has been reduced to a quiet stream of grunts and adjectives. His grip on your hand tightens the moment you rock your hips. 

“Ah! It’s… it’s good…” he murmurs, his lips once again seeking yours, though even their deftness is lacking. His kiss is soft and uncoordinated, his moans muffled against your lips, his breaths catching in his throat before he can properly exhale.

And he feels good for you too. Not just the intoxicating stretch of his cock, or the way the pair of you slowly grind your hips together, faces so close you’re sharing the same air. For those few minutes there was never any Kira case, never any fear he would become nothing more than a name on a neverending list of victims. He isn’t even just a beloved friend you’re doing this with once so he can know what it feels like. He’s simply L… your L… and you’re together, right where you belong. 

His eyes close and he inhales sharply, his cock throbbing inside you as he lifts his head and buries it in the crook of your neck, curling up as much as he can with your weight on top of him.

“Gya… shhh… ah! Ah!” He groans and hisses against your shoulder, his orgasm causing him to tremble. “D-don’t…” he gasps. “Don’t stop. Not yet. Stay with me. Please.”

“Okay,” you assure him, kissing him softly once more. “I’ll stay.”

And you do. You stay with him in bed for hours, kissing, experimenting, hiding from the world together. You stay with him and eat cake after that. And you stay with him in the hotel bed watching raindrops slide down the windowpane while he curls up in your arms and reiterates the simple truth…

“I’m where I belong.”

Tags: @ferninapot

#l lawliet x you #l lawliet x reader #l lawliet smut #l lawliet x y/n #l smut #l x f!reader #l x y/n #l x you #l x reader #l lawliet #l death note smut #l death note #lawliet x reader #death note lawliet #f!reader #n.sfw #n.sfw // #loss of virginity #death note smut #death note

[ancientgoddessofegypt]

ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS PT. 5

Sun in Scorpios need to realize that they should allow growth in their true forms. We cannot see who you are just by you coming to us or walking in the room. Sure we can see their power but their true expression is what the world needs to see so that the energy can truly evolve. It is with this self-mastery can formulate.

Moon In Scorpios have a unique drive to succeed in whatever it is they are passionate about. Any harbored up emotions can lead to great achievements if they use it well. Whatever hurt them in the past this is quickly used as fuel to strengthen their energy. It is through time they learn that this power should be used wisely and not on other peoples opinions and feelings over them.

Venus in Aries are unmatched. Like their auras are bold, eccentric, daring, and just sexy. The more confident they are the sexier they become. They'll grow into their beauty if they just believe in their self worth. Venus aries can turn people on by just the way the move. They should be more open to being the person to start the conversation because it draws people in and it makes them stand out.

Pluto in the 8th have a mystique aura to them. Quiet and chill tempered. They haunt people by their self expression. You use other peoples reaction to gain insight on the world view. How are you doing? serious question. Your energy is tantalizing to some, boring to a few, enraging in others, and just amazing, powerful and dynamic to many. You get the whole spear of reactions dealing with others. Your memories of past lives are quite alarming, and you know the future quite well. You have gifts in being a prophet/seer, unusual abilities in the arts of the occult, and so much more. It would be a wonder to understand you but your power is so infinite, we'll just sit in awe.

Mercury in Aquarius shows an intellectuals who's powers in the mind are beyond the years of their peers. Your gifts come in the form of mathematics, scientific pursuits, and using the mind past its limits. You might get insight on future events and can use them to explore the beliefs of the world around you. Could help change the way another human thinks by expressing your point of view. Helping other humans see that there are are more possibilities than what we know helps shift the third eye into new horizons.

(Before someone says because i know they will: no, maybe you weren't the best at math or science as a kid or even college but now its time to find new avenues as their are so many different ways to study these two topics. Also knowing aquarius, they tend to go into different things and finding out something new. This is how they become the originator and the first to do it. They think it then they do it. Thats their super power).

Neptune in the 3rd has a sensual expression in the arts. Their ability to master the senses and being able to express that into words is amazing. Because this is the third house and its ruler is mercury/gemini there can be talents with the hands so they could probably paint, draw or even do photography. There talent can make others see beyond whatever it is they are looking at. It's as if we can see a whole new world insight of their thoughts. Our imagination can grow with just their speech alone. Crazy gift.

#astrology thoughts #astrology observations #astrology theories #neptune in the 3rd #scorpio sun #scorpio moon #venus aries #tropical astrology #pluto in the 8th #deja's astro observations

[ghostofhyuck]

Pauses, then says

You're my best friend

And you knew what it was

He is in love

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The airbnb you two rented was perfect. You can hear the buzzing streets of New York; the people, cars, and the establishments. You were never for noise but this is New York, there’s something enchanting and romantic about the city that even the busy streets of the avenue, you feel welcomed by it.

“Should we get going?” You turned around and faced Jaemin who seemed to be eager to explore the city. You two just landed from a fifteen hour flight with a short layover. It seems like jet lag doesn’t exist in Jaemin’s vocabulary.

“Can we rest for a bit? It’s two in the afternoon,” you complained.

“But you’re the one who fixed our itinerary! It says here that we’ll be exploring the area!” Jaemin explained. “Come on now! Let’s not waste our time chilling around!”

And there, he tried to pull you out of the room and it wasn’t until you objected that you wanted to fix your makeup when he let you go.

“I’m so excited!” Jaemin shouts, giving you a quick kiss before leaving you alone in the room.

You could only shake your head. Another antics from Jaemin that caught you off guard. It’s not like you’re not used to it but sometimes it does surprise you.

Especially when days before your flight, a wake-up call from your bestfriend showed you another side of your relationship with Jaemin.

“So you two are dating?” your friend says.

“Yeah, you could say that,” you muttered. Taking a sip on your iced chocolate.

“And you’re sure about that? Is it exclusively? or just you know, you two are just playing around?”

You weren’t offended by your best friend’s question. It was genuine and has hints of concern.

Truth to be told, you don’t know what to say to her. You and Jaemin never open up about your relationship. At first it was just blatant flirting, then came the dates and the intimacies. It was playful and you never questioned it because you thought that there’s nothing to worry about.

“And now you’re going to New York with him,”

You purse your lips before taking a sip once again, “I assure you that it’s nothing. I won’t let myself get hurt, you know that.”

Hurt. Sure, you feel like an idiot as you apply blush on your cheeks. You don’t know what to feel after that talk with your friend. Everything used to be a game for you, now that you realise that you flew a thousand miles away from your country with Na Jaemin, perhaps it’s something that you should ponder about.

You finished your makeup with lipstick and then proceeded to grab your small handbag where all your necessities are. You opened the door and saw Jaemin waiting for you, sitting on the couch idly.

“You look pretty,” He compliments.

“It’s just my usual makeup,” you shrugged, approaching him with a smile.

“I know,” he said, grabbing your left hand. “Wouldn’t let New Yorkers get you.”

You only laughed at his comment, trying to ignore the way your heart jumped out of joy. You tugged his shirt as a signal that both of you should get going.

Brunch at New York felt different. Everyone was in a rush, busy in their own world. You felt like it was only you and Jaemin who’s taking their time in this world. You two sat at a local restaurant and you took your time to order for both of you. Jaemin being impressed with your skills and small interaction with the waitress.

The food was great especially after you spent the last few hours eating plane meals. Both of you are stuffed but decided to buy coffee to energise your city tour.

You didn’t notice how long you two have been walking around. Going to local stores and tourist attractions that are filled with tourists like you. You kinda expected it especially when you two chose to go to New York during summer.

Jaemin seems to be in awe with the place too, his hands letting go of you whenever he takes pictures around with his camera — which happens often but you don’t mind especially when he tells you to pose for him.

“Your energy’s finally taking off,” you teased. Hours of walking, Jaemin becomes slow and rarely talks to you. That’s when you noticed that he’s become weary.

Jaemin only smiles, “I didn't think that walking around can be exhausting.”

“We’ve been walking for hours, Jaemin,” you pointed out. “The sun’s about to set, any plans for dinner?”

“How about we just go back to our place and order takeout?”

You only laughed, leaning against his shoulders, “I would love that.”

As soon as you open the door to your place and open the lights, exhaustion swallows you. The flight, the walk, and just being out in the city have consumed all of your energy.

“I heard pizza’s great here, do you want that?” Jaemin asked, scrolling through his phone.

“That would be great,” you told him before crashing to the long couch. You grabbed a couch pillow, and slowly you felt your eyes getting heavy.

Jaemin noticed that you drifted to sleep. He lets out a smile, before grabbing his camera to take a photo of you.

He then places his camera down and approaches you. Kneeling in front of you so that he can see you more clearly. Jaemin smiles, thinking how you look so calm and peaceful in front of him.

Jaemin brushes your hair. He noticed how some of your eyeshadow bleed on your tear mark, reminding himself that he should wake you up to clean your makeup. But not now, you look so peaceful and to think that you agreed to his wants, made him feel a hint of guilt for you.

He sometimes couldn’t believe it. Having you by his side, this trip to New York is one of the things that he wanted to do with you.

Jaemin knows that there’s a lot to talk about, maybe you two can finally open up about it here in New York. Maybe before you two leave, but for now he just wants to wander around the streets with you.

But for now, Jaemin stands up and kisses your temples, careful to not disturb you. He looks at you one last time, he pauses and there, Jaemin smiles.

He feels like an idiot. After all, what Jaemin knows is that he is deeply in love with you.

#nct #nct dream #nct fluff #nct fic #nct x reader #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct dream fic #nct dream imagine #nct jaemin #nct jaemin fic #nct jaemin fluff #nct jaemin imagine #nct dream jaemin fic #nct dream jaemin fluff #nct dream jaemin imagine

[heavenlyvixen]

Percy

I want to address the allegations and scandal that has engulfed Percy Hynes White. As a survivor of SA, I take all allegations seriously and give all accusers the benefit of the doubt. When I was first made aware of these allegations my heart dropped into my stomach, and I felt the first stirrings of panic rise. My own experiences make me specially sensitive when these things occur. You could say I’m triggered. I logged off for my own mental and emotional well being. Once I calmed down, I logged back on and went to read the allegations. I didn’t want to believe that Percy was capable of such a thing, but as someone who believes victims first, I was open to the possibility that this kid I thought was charming, funny and sweet was an illusion and the reality was that a monster lurked beneath the surface. However, as I began to read through the tweets and “evidence” against this man, something didn’t add up.

That’s when the anger kicked in. Do you know how insulting it is, as a survivor of rape, when girls make false allegations? Do you know the damage that it does to legitimate victims? The likely hood that they will receive justice falls even lower than it already was. It is a further violation committed against us. And there is no justification.

So over the last few days we have learned that Percy himself committed no crimes - he did not SA anyone. We’ve learned that at worst, while a teen, he was cavalier with a girl’s feelings. Not kind, but if we are to believe this is true, he also apologised when older and wiser. We have learned that when he learnt that a friend of his was capable of such horror, he ended the friendship and he was kind and compassionate to the victim.

When all that came to light, his accusers tried another avenue to smear him - they called him a racist. Their evidence? A video of a very young Percy quoting a tv show. The line happened to contain a slur. Stupid, but I think forgivable considering his age at the time. But that’s not all, according to the girls, they also offered instagram likes as proof. Problem is, the post they referenced, was not what they claimed. And don’t even get me started on his supposed twitter likes. He doesn’t even have a twitter account.

Then they tried another route - kink shaming. Again, they posted unverifiable “proof” that he liked some kinky stuff. Ok, that’s not a crime first of all. And second, fantasies and exploration of your sexuality is normal. There is nothing wrong with that except the fact that these girls violated Percy’s privacy by telling everyone.

Were they done? No. Not even. They released naked and risqué pictures of Percy that they claim he sent to them as proof of bad acts. We have a few problems with that. 1) they offer no proof that he sent them to them, just the pictures themselves, which begs the question “how did they really get them?”. 2) revenge porn is a crime, but sending the pics to them in and of itself is not. Especially if they had a sexual relationship with him at the time. 3) this is the really disgusting part. Percy appears to have been 13 years old when some of those pictures were taken. That classifies as child p*rnography and most certainly is a crime. A vile, horrific crime.

Throughout all of this, all anyone has proven is that one girl was possibly assaulted by someone that Percy knew. He reacted with shock but kindness when he found out. As to be expected. But most of all, we learned that Percy is the victim here. And we learned that there are many among us that are more vile than I ever feared.

He’s a victim of vindictive little girls who held on to images they never should have had to justify false allegations in an attempt to ruin his life because he didn’t reciprocate their affections.

This is fucking sick. It makes me sick, it pisses me off and makes my heart break for every true victim of SA, for Percy, and for his real friends and loved ones.

I hope that the people responsible face the consequences of their actions. And I finish with one final point. There is no justification in this world for spreading child p*rnography. None. There is no justification for falsely accusing an innocent person of vile crimes. None. Those involved should be ashamed of themselves.

I hope and pray that Percy is being taken care of, that he’s ok and that he is able to return to some semblance of normalcy when it all dies down and the air clears. The reality is he’ll be irrevocably changed by this. I just hope it doesn’t change him too much. I hope he emerges from this still kind, goofy and adorably weird. Take care, Percy and know that we are on your side.

#percy hynes white #wednesday #wednesday x xavier #xavier thorpe

[ovenproofowl]

a lot of people have said it, but I’m throwing in my two cents just to get it off my chest.

Picard season 3 was . Bad . For a LOT of reasons . It felt like - as many before me have expressed - a self-insert fanfic with the dullest self-insert in history.

Jack Crusher wasn’t much of a character but he could have had some promise if they hadn’t spent an aggravating amount of time having him decree how different he always felt, you guys. Did you get that part? He’d always felt different. That sort of dialogue might have flown if we were dealing with Picard’s adolescent son, but instead we’re dealing with a 24 year old played by a 35 year old who looks every bit his age. (It was a hard 24 years, we must assume.)

The reason that Jack Crusher didn’t work for me personally, though, wasn’t because of how cliché his character was. I would have let that pass much easier if it wasn’t for the big ol’ elephant in the room. And that is simply that :

JACK CRUSHER WAS NEVER NECESSARY

Jack may have served a purpose to the storyline that was presented if only because he was the sole reason there was a Big Bad to be defeated in the first place. Everyone wanted to kidnap him, he brought the old gang back together just to protect him and then later save him from said Big Bad which was also actually .. him. Everything Was About Jack. But I’m not talking about the main plot. I Really Don’t Want to Talk About the Main Plot. Ever. What I want to talk about is what Jack represented that made him so unnecessary:

He was intended to represent Jean-Luc Picard’s only reason to start living.

Personally, that really, really offended me. Picard didn’t need to have a biological kid to have a purpose. In fact, it’s been established time and time again that he wasn’t ever really dad material. More of a... weirdly intense uncle. For a while, he wasn’t a fan of kids at all. Eventually, though, Picard is seen to warm to the idea of letting children within his general vicinity. This starts in TNG and continues on in season 1 of Picard. The Only Categorically Good Season of this whole. show.

In season 1, we see flashbacks of Jean-Luc’s relationship with a young Elnor, how he would read him stories and have sword fights with him. He was an absent father to an adopted child he hadn’t even realised he’d adopted and yet Elnor still fought for his hopeless cause. In much the same way, Picard meets Dahj and then later, Soji. He feels a kinship with these androids because of their connection to Data. He wants to protect Soji becase he couldn’t protect Dahj and Soji even canonically questions whether she should allow Picard to act as her father figure before she begins to remember where she came from. Both of these dynamics were infinitely more interesting and a lot deeper rooted. Soji and Elnor were both young twenty-somethings without parental guidance but found that guidance through Picard. Soji had her connection to Jurati, too, and Elnor had his with Seven and Raffi and that’s what made the whole group so intriguing to follow. They all had interesting connections to each other that had so many avenues to explore.

Unfortunately, the show decided to more or less write Soji and Elnor out of the story come season 2. Elnor was killed off for the majority of the season and only brought back by Q intervention in the last episode. Soji wasn’t even a part of the story at all. And do you know what’s sad about that? What’s really sad? Season 2 was trying to sell us the exact same message as season 3. That Picard needed a reason to live. But, like, not that reason. Not the reasons he’d already been given in the form of his found family with his Romulan and android adopted children, or even the rest of the La Sirena crew. No no no, we can’t have that, better get rid of them. This time, Laris is the focal point. Picard had been avoiding a romantic relationship with her because of a never before mentioned dark history surrounding his mother’s suicide. Because, sure, at this point, why not? While we’re at it, let’s also kill off Rios in the most slap-in-the-face out of character way possible and fling Jurati at the Borg for good measure just so she won’t be around for season 3. Her character development into the Borg Queen was pretty intriguing, but we’ll totally ignore that they even exist post her departure, just for funsies. Oh, and Soji and Elnor? Best not mention them at all come that third and final season. Otherwise, people might get the crazy notion that Picard already had a reason not to hunker down and die at the vinyard at the tender age of 104.

Season 3 picks up where season 2 leaves off in that Picard is now in that aforementioned romantic relationship with Laris. Except, no he isn’t because he immediately gets an emergency call from his ex and literally never sees or talks to Laris ever again. There wasn’t even a throw-away line or implied reference to her, but by now I’m sure you know the reason for that.

That’s right, folks. Because if we were allowed to remember Laris and what she meant to Picard, then we might just remember that other thing. Say it with me now!!

JACK CRUSHER WAS NEVER NECESSARY!!

In summary, there were so many brilliant options to give Picard for signficant found family dynamics, but the show just wasn’t interested in any of them. Season 3 wanted a Picard who had given it all up, who was ready to die because he’d never had a family to pass on his legacy. They wanted him at his lowest so that we’d all rejoice to see him return to the TNG crew. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a massive TNG fan and I could rave about the fan service and nostalgia porn for hours on end. If season 3 had stood alone as a singular unconnected event, it might even have been passable as a warm hug from old and beloved characters with some fun new spins to their stories along the way, juust so long as you didn’t squint too hard at the actual attempt at plot writing going on in the background.

But the fact of the matter is, Picard season 3 came far too late into the game. Season 1 held the building blocks to something new and interesting. By the end of season 2, it was becoming clear we were never going to see those blocks stand. By season 3, those blocks were just scattered headstones in a graveyard.

They teased us with the potential new show of Captain Seven and her Number One Raffi Musiker and that might have just been okay. . .

. . .If the La Sirena Crew had been allowed to be a part of that future.

In closing: Picard season 3? Too little, too late, mate. 👎🏻

#star trek picard #picard spoilers #anti picard #jean luc picard #jack crusher #anti jack crusher #soji asha #elnor #raffi musiker #seven of nine #i didn't mention everything i didn't like here or in fact everything I DID like #because if we ignore the plot and just focus on seeing the crew back then yes I did in fact enjoy quite a bit of it #and also vadic was the best goddamn villain and they should have done more with her oh my god #but i had to get this off my chest #and also yes i acknowledge that elnor was very much seven and raffi's adopted kid as much as picard's #but this has to focus on picard because.. well.. that's the name of the show right? #could've fooled me. i thought it was the jack crusher show #ok ok i'm done bitterness out #it's said and i'm moving on

[ckret2]

@horridrabbitcreature said: Ok now tell us how they breed. For educational purposes

Honestly and sincerely, I do not know how Bill's species breeds lmao.

It's a problem of aesthetics, to me. A shape in the style of Bill Cipher has a simple, clean, minimalist perimeter, with perhaps only a couple of arms and legs and (in their home dimension) an eyeball on one corner.

If you headcanon they have the traditional hole or pole anatomy like humans do, it mars their nice, simple perimeter. If you come up with some complicated way to hide the equipment—something like a cloaca—that still will probably be seen on their edge, which I don't like, and anyway I personally feel like "yeah they've got equipment (it's just perfectly hidden most of the time)" is a little goofy and the coward's way out.

You could incorporate it into their existing anatomy—make up an alien way to stuff a reproductive system into their eyeballs, for instance—but I already do SO MUCH with their eye (it's for seeing AND it's their mouth hole AND they probably hear through there) that trying to find a way to shove in a reproductive system feels like too much, so I'm not doing that.* And they don't have much visible anatomical features OUTSIDE of eyes to work with.

(* "What do you mean you're not putting their genitalia in their eyes, you just wrote a whole chapter about Bill being into weird eye stuff?" The eye stuff is Bill's fetish, not a reflection of normal shapes' sexual behavior, and all Bill's shape buddies think he's a freak for it. Glad we clarified this.)

You could invent an entirely new alien reproductive method that gets around the issue, but unless how they reproduce becomes relevant to the fic I'm writing (doubtful), that's a HUGE superfluous avenue of worldbuilding that wouldn't contribute anything but pointless complicated info.

So I don't know how they breed because right now it just doesn't matter to the story I'm telling.

Here's what I do know about their reproduction:

It requires one line and one polygon (triangle, quadrangle, pentagon, etc). (This is not without purpose; I'm all for alien reproductive methods that don't involve pairing up, but in this case for "Bill keeps accidentally paralleling the human characters' experiences" reasons it was necessary to give him a crummy mom-and-dad like Pacifica, Gideon, and Stan+Ford.) Each kind of shape (lines included) is genetically a separate sex and socially considered a separate gender.

"each shape is a separate sex" actually only goes up so far. Shapes with a ridiculously high number of sides aren't naturally occurring and are the result of selectively breeding for extra sides, and often requires mutations or inbreeding. Creating a circle is like spending several centuries selectively breeding humans for polydactyly until you have a baby with thirty fingers. By Bill's time the practice of selectively breeding for sides was scientifically discredited and effectively dead.

Similarly, "each generation your angles/sides should increase" was proven to be rubbish. It's all sex chromosomes.

I've been toying with the idea of making lines a small proportion of the population rather than 50%, to reduce how much it feels like the species is a binary "50% female (lines) and 50% male of various flavors (polygons)"; but if there's so few lines then to maintain the population there might be some kind of "a line can have multiple spouses" rule; maybe a line can legally take one spouse of each shape but NOT, say, two triangles or something; but then that's verging on "to what end am I making this so complicated? What's the point? Does it have any impact on Bill's life?" so I might just chuck that idea. (A lot of my worldbuilding is driven by "Bill's species is extinct in the wild, so justify why exploring this matters?")

Similarly, I've considered maybe making the way the species experiences romantic feelings vary between sexes—like, maybe usually only lines fall in love for some reason, or maybe if there's a town that's 10% line 10% square 10% miscellaneous and 70% triangle then newborn triangles are naturally inclined toward being ace/aro to rebalance the population numbers. Sorta inspired by like how frogs spontaneously change sexes if the pond's population is too unbalanced. The reason I'm considering this is because having Bill experience romantic feelings & falling in love at the same rate as allo humans (like, what, every few years? Constantly maybe?) is just ridiculous for a character who's a trillion years old; but if I'm gonna say "oh he only falls in love once a million years or whatever" I want a good reason that isn't just he hasn't met someone ~special~ enough; and I DON'T want the reason to be "he's ace and/or aro and could reasonably identify that way" because having Bill frigging Cipher grapple with that queer experience just does NOT excite me. Basically—as an ace/aro myself, I don't want it to be possible for ace/aro-ness to be one of the reasons Bill feels fundamentally Weird. Turns me off. So I'm toying with, maybe I could build his species in such a way that, for him, being aro-ish or ace-ish would be seen as normative & expected, rather than queer; so I could still have him only wanna date once every million years WITHOUT feeling like that's a part of his identity he needed to explore at some point. But idk futzing around with how his species experiences romance might be unnecessarily complicated when I could just, like, not point out that only dating once every million years is unusual, and most readers would just roll with it without question.

So, these are the thoughts I've had about how reproduction works in Bill's species.

Still have no idea how they fuck.

#about my writing #bill goldilocks cipher #shape gender

[dballzposting]

The Gohan Goes To Highschool Saga is so unbelievably perfect and delectable and every time I see any bit of it I lose it

First of all I like the art style. The profiles are cute and I love how the clothes are drawn.

Gohan looks goofy as hell.

Gohan has been living Isolated Away from all of The World just Living in the sticks in the mountain in the woods just he and his mom and his brother

And Then he goes to SCHOOL and is thrust into a SOCIAL ENVIRONMENT for the first time and the FIRST thing that happens to him is that a GIRL, who happens to be MR SATAN'S DAUGHTER, DRILLS her EYES into him and STARES and STALKS and THINKS and she is going to see his guts god damnit.

And she herself runs the city. Mr Satan is King Lion Showpony Figurehead While Videl is actually out sniffing the streets. She knows her territory and she navigates it with clarity and confidence

And when new strange "Superheros" enter the environment she is going to get to the bottom of it.

Because some things about the world have never seemed right to her. The mysterious strangers during the Cell Games, the way that she has never seen her father do anything that impressive since- the Golden Warrior, The Great Saiyaman ... is there a common thread of one singularly strong warrior?

Gohan discovers the euphoria of a mask. He has always had to be the hero and it was a record of failure and stress to him. Now he gets to PLAY hero. It's fun, and juvenile, which would be healing, but- how far should we let this go? His silly Ginyu poses. The glory of being seen but unseen. He can control what people think of him. He's sensitive when people badmouth his alter ego, snapping into anger and then recovering with the blaséness of a child. What is this? I can't explain it but it seems like a slippery spiral.

Hes never had a mask before. Hes never been safe to have eyes land and melt on his body before.

And the FIRST THING that Happens to Him is that a Girl who is SUSPICIOUS and INTENSE and ADROIT sets her ICY Stare On Him and wont Relent. She is going to GET Under that Mask. Hes never had this sort of attention before, hes barely had peers before - hes never been studied like this, hes never been WANTED like this.

She stares and he sweats.

And it's clearly good for Gohan to be getting out but it's just that well there is CLEARLY Madness in the Woods and he is not out of those woods. Maybe hes the minotaur. He acts all goofy and happy and spontaneous and bright-eyed, but it's masking something I'm telling you. That's why the mask appealed to him so. Hes already wearing one without even realizing it

And again Videl is gonna be the one to cut him open and drag his guts out. And thatll be GOOD FOR HIM TOO becasue hes never HAD the privilege of CONVERSATION. There is so much that he just doesnt have context for. And he's never had the avenue to explore with others the events of the past that may still be living in him.

But until then it's just gonna brew and he thought he was out of the woods but now hes entering the fecund minefield of social revelations and hes learning and re-learning everything subtlety as he also experiences what it's like to see and be seen and he is finding access to a wealth of new feelings made for moving amongst his peers and theres a lot of internal shifting as he leaps out to claim a part of the world for himself and the shadows in his soul are finding thrill and fixation on playing the much-loved hero in a mask who gets to pull goofy poses.

Um Gohan sort of blew ass in the Buu Saga but his outfits were killer. And then he died. Badly. But I dont mind and I really think that it's important for him to get out of his mother's house and to lean into the insight of Videl ASAP. He needs to establish his own presence amongst a normal functioning society so bad.

I swear he only became a scholar becasue he began to associate it with peace and his mother's love, and it gave him something to escape into when he didnt want to experience being himself. But the self still necessarily expresses itself somehow and now he hyperfixates on bugs. So small and humble yet strong and brave. They make the world seem so small yet so big and switching between the two helps him to avoid finding himself in the middle. Also there was that whole Cell thing (he was sort of bug-like...)

#dballz posting #gohan & videl

[sylvaridreams]

I Get not vibing with or liking a character for WHATEVER reason, I don't feel like anyone needs to police which characters you're allowed to dislike or whatever. And it's often simply not that deep. But I do find it frustrating and uncomfortable, trying to... idk. Engage with people who are So vocal about viscerally hating a character who we meet when he's a teenager, who watches his mother die just as he's getting her back in his life, who struggles and fights to take the reins of his own destiny, who has the gall to criticize The Hero, BASICALLY. I think that's what it largely boils down to for a lot of people is that there's little separation for them between The Commander and themselves as a person, i.e. heroics as wish fulfillment, and so being snapped at by an angry, grieving young man who looked up to us, who blames us for his loss (is the anger unfounded? Much to discuss) feels to some like a personal attack on their own actions. In other words sometimes playing the hero means that you do or don't make a call and bad things happen and whether it's truly your fault or not you may take the blame for the death and destruction, you may be hated by people you tried to help, you may be shoved away by a friend when you try to reach out. And I love this about this game. That you can do the right thing and make the right call and have the least losses and turn around and find that people still suffered in agony as a result. You flipped the switch on the trolley tracks and only killed one person rather than 4 but that one person had a life and a family and a dream or two that you chose to crush. I like that. There's not always a right answer that fixes it all. Anyway I think in my mind at least, that's why so many people dislike Braham. Because for some period of time during his mourning he pokes at the edges of the Commander’s conscience and says what about the people you chose to die. What about the trolley switches you flipped. What about the death and destruction you leave behind, the people left to grieve their loved ones. People hate having that mirror held up to themselves... That's too bad. It's a fascinating avenue to explore, and Braham is a fantastic character, and it sucks that I see so much criticism targeted at him for taking us down that path. The dude calls us his best friend. He tells us he loves us. We should be allowed to equip a legendary BFF heart necklace that Braham has the other half of to be honest.

[plottwiststudios]

Women of Xal II Kickstarter: Delayed?

Hey, have you heard of the overly ambitious visual novel titled "Women of Xal" for Steam and Itch.io? (PC/Mac/Linux) Because that plays into why we might need to shelf the series for a few years. Full breakdown under the cut. (No spoilers)

For those who have gotten the True Ending, you should be fully aware that the story is about to vastly expand outside of Xuna's castle. It's a narrative must where everything that happens, happens well outside the scope of the original game in so many ways. And let's talk about scope! Especially if you have no idea what's so staggering about the original Women of Xal visual novel:

600+ optional choices we painstakingly programmed

Branching paths that people are still asking for guides on

A dozen romance options

Poly and gay options that interact with one another

Voice acting from now VERY popular voice actors

A 15 hour story full of mystery, lore, and tense politics

110 track soundtrack

4 Endings

Animations

Thousands of art assets (Bless Cat)

Years of hard work and long nights

No AI Art

100% positive reviews as of this post

Recouped $6000+, or roughly a fraction of the cost of development. After 2+ years of being released

Note that very last bullet point. Doing things for the art and passion is amazing and all, but I can't be investing literal thousands of hours into creating a game for a subset of a subset of a subset of people. I have bigger projects I want to finally get to work on. Ones I really hoped Women of Xal I would help a bit with funding. But it's not. And because of certain facts about the game, it may never be able to do so. To no fault of any of the players.

When I made Women of Xal I, my time was more readily available and I was quite a bit younger. The cost of running a company and creating a game like WoX as the first product hadn't quite hit me. I was also silly enough to believe "if you make it, they will come" to a degree. That part makes me grin in a not fun way.

But these days I have a job that takes me away from creating, but does pay the bills and debts. Debts I don't want to get into again in order to create the sequel that will undoubtedly come with far higher costs due to the game's scope. I have a better understanding of the costs of hiring returning and appropriate talent necessary to create a game better than the last. (I don't personally believe in being satisfied with an intentional steep downgrade.)

Yes there is the Kickstarter option for Women of Xal II, but there are plenty of costs and time investment that makes it an unviable avenue to explore during this point in time. After all, who but the people who sat down and explored everything the first game had to offer would understand how we came up with a $50,000 Kickstarter price tag for a visual novel's sequel? Especially since too many will look at the first Kickstarter and believe we made the first game with only $14,000.

I have thought about giving Women of Xal I a modernized facelift with a smaller Kickstarter, complete with a ton of new features and fun ways to streamline and highlight the narration's strong points, but there's a LOT of baggage that comes with that, including not wanting to go backwards when I still want to create my "pipe dream" projects.

So I'm thinking we'll give it a bit more thought these next few days, and if we can't think of a solution that we haven't already tried, we'll officially announce the delay (and before you suggest your own ideas, know that there's a 99% chance we've already tried it).

A long, long post just to say I do sincerely apologize for having people wait longer, but I am literally still a few thousand dollars away from paying off all my debt that came from funding the first game. It's a micro-trauma I do not feel inclined to repeating again. When the franchise is in a better place, or I am emotionally/physically, I will return back to Women of Xal to finish the story. If I cannot, I will release a summary of events that transpire after the first game's true ending.

But for now, I'm going to focus on financial and emotional healing, and creating projects that I feel will be more appreciated by both myself and people who are turned off by what "Women of Xal" offers.

Thank you all for supporting our small company these past several years. <3

-John

#Women of Xal #Visual Novel #dating sim #indie game #gaming

[loveyourownsmiilee]

Hi JuJu! I hope you had a lovely Friday. I’m starting to worry about this fandom and their lack of interest in buddie at this moment. So many people on x and tumblr have jumped on this bucktommy train and sure it’s shiny and new and cute but why are they so quick to throw away years of development and such beautiful partnership for this? I’m sad and I hope you are still on the buddie train my dear! Enjoy the weekend 🥰

Hello love!! I’ve truly been off tumblr since Thursday, only popping in to post something and getting right off. Here’s the thing and I’ve seen it time and time and time again. Any time there’s a new love interest, a majority of the fans automatically jump onto that pairing bc it does seem like the newness of it is attention grabbing and they are into the new possibilities that may arise. I’ve always been a Buddie shipper, and I always will be. I don’t enjoy the boys with anyone else nor have I ever but that’s just my thoughts on it. And I don’t think Tommy or any previous partner really can hold a candle to everything we’ve seen with Buck and Eddie.

Now I personally don’t understand how people are so quick to jump from Buddie to Buck with Tommy but I know multishippers exist and they are entitled to their opinions very much how I am entitled to mine. There’s nothing wrong with that. I personally can’t see how Tommy is supposed to be anything other than a plot device, someone for right now while Buck gets more comfortable with this part of himself. I also can say that we’ve seen similar patterns with Tommy and Buck that we’ve seen with all previous partners Buck has had. And if some people want to overlook that bc he’s a man and this is a new avenue for Buck and the show, then that’s also fine. I however won’t because it’s the same pattern we’ve seen many times by now. And I stand by Buck being confused with everything including his feelings and therefore some wires have been crossed and his feelings are somewhat misplaced. Now I’m not saying he’s not into Tommy. No all I’m saying is when you watch all the scenes and really pay attention, there’s an underlying theme that’s a bit jarring and that is Eddie. He’s always talking about him, bringing him up, focusing on him. So if we’re all meant to think Eddie’s not of importance, then they shouldn’t be using him as frequently as they have with Buck��s storyline.

And yes Buck being bisexual is its own thing aside from Eddie/Buddie. And yes he should explore and figure things out as he is. I’m not saying that’s wrong or whatever. I personally don’t care for him and Tommy, I don’t understand how he will ever mirror what he and Eddie have together. And that’s why I’m not worried bc the story is just beginning and we still have to eventually get to Eddie’s sexuality storyline. And they’ve done great work planting the seeds for that in the last episode. And I would love for when that time comes, Eddie’s sexuality to be its own thing too without the whole Buck/Buddie aspect taking the spotlight away from that. So I know eventually it’ll all come together and I just can’t see how Buck and Eddie aren’t going to be endgame. As long as the two of them are breathing, there’s a chance and I’d say that this season has actually proved that chance may be sooner than we think. Not possibly this season but definitely setting things to make it happen next!

So I guess what I’m trying to say is if there are people who are enjoying Buck and Tommy together, then good for them. I really don’t want or need to say anything negative because everyone enjoys the show in their own way. And if there are people who don’t like them together and want Buddie together, then I hope they’re a bit more patient because it will eventually be worth it in the end. I’m one of those people who is just going to patiently wait until both their storylines unfold and we eventually get to see our boys have their happy ever after. Just don’t give up on the boys because they’ve literally been written as a slow burn friends to lovers. And they’re so fucking soulmate shaped. And that’s all I’ll say on this matter.

#juju answers #thirstyforoli #buddie #tommy kinard #I won’t be answering more bc I truly don’t care for buck and Tommy #and I’m just going to enjoy my show and my boys storylines until we get buddie canon #and I’m def never giving up on buddie and that’s just where I stand on this matter #please respect my opinions bc im trying to respect everyone else’s #I’m actively trying not to make posts about my opinions bc I know every time #I breathe on this site I get attacked for having different opinions

[madamtrashbat]

I was chatting with a friend recently about the ways antis operate and how damaging their ideology is and I wanted to organize my thoughts about it.

It's one thing to be like "I wish minors wouldn't interact with my work because it's got adult content" (which is not something you can 100% control short of paywalling) but it's another thing ENTIRELY to be like "minors should never look at anything sexual ever and people who think it's okay that they do are secret pedophiles."

Teenagers need to have the safe space to explore their sexuality and figure their shit out and sometimes that place is fandom. Sometimes teens are trying to deal with the fantasies they have about their hot history teacher so they consume teacher/student smut in order to work it out. Sometimes they're wondering what gives them their jollies and are just reading whatever they can to wank to, including incest and rape and other "unsavory" things just so they can get it all figured out.

Sometimes awful things have happened to teens and they're using the avenue of art and fiction to take the power back from their rapist and create a narrative they control where they are working through it safely.

And antis would see all of this and want it fucking destroyed.

I was brought up in fandom by a few of the sweetest older women (adult women!) who took me under their wings and showed me that what I was thinking and writing wasn't bad or wrong or shameful and it was all perfectly sane to have these sexual feelings because nothing makes sense when you're a kid and if you want to write Frerard where Gerard is the hot teacher to Frank's catholic schoolboy in order to deal with your feelings about the sexy sub you just got at your school then that's totally fine.

These trusted adults also comforted me when I was afraid, taught me what boundaries were (please do not actually pursue the sub!), told me what were normal interactions and what I should be wary of (do NOT let the sub pursue you), and they were proud of me as I made my way into the world as a reasonably well-adjusted adult.

(Hi, Gaja, can't wait for your Christmas card!)

Sexuality is weird and messy and whatever makes our pants tighter is all individual and equally weird. Telling teenagers to not seek out porn and to not even speak to adults is just a one-way ticket to growing fucked-up people who don't know how to operate without shame and then we have a resurgence in Catholicism and NOBODY needs that.

And the way that antis rally against this, like teenagers are Pure and Sweet Babies who are being corrupted by the Awful Adults Like Me (who are secretly child diddlers obviously) is just. So fucking damaging.

Imagine trying to handle the way your hormones are firing off at everything and you're just not sure what's going on and instead of a kind adult going "hey we were all freaks at 16 and it's totally normal to be like 'this strange thing is turning me on' I promise" you have some sniveling puritan asshole going "YOU ARE ACTUALLY A SEXUAL PREDATOR IF YOU LIKE THESE THINGS AND YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED AND PUNISHED BEFORE YOU ACTUALLY HARM PEOPLE."

Like. Y'all. I have seen antis claim that people who wrote about/drew rape in order to deal with their own assaults DESERVED IT because they chose to deal with it in this way. I have seen antis tell people they hope they get raped for the fiction they create. They wish death and harm against people who make fiction. Antis literally have a body count over this shit. And yet they want me to believe they're the good guys? Bye.

Antis will argue that it's not normal for people to think about gross and icky things. I argue that Holocaust survivors had sexual fantasies about actual fucking jackboot Nazis.

No one says you have to like everything everyone else does. We have a robust tagging system for a reason. But to behave as if what YOU like is the only thing that is acceptable and everything else is Bad and Wrong is not the business. Kink Tomato exists for a reason. We are all individuals who like different things. Get with it.

Teenagers are in a precarious time of development and if you want to shame them for whatever is going on in their heads then you are the problem, not the solution. Be the kind of adult you needed as a teenager, not some shaming, screaming Puritan trying to pin scarlet A's onto everything because it's sinful. Goody Proctor is just trying to rub one out in peace.

Get with the way fandom has always operated or go away. ACAB means fancop, too.

#discourse #long post

[muiitoloko]

Hey, can I place an order? I saw that you've just started writing about Alan Rickman and I was wondering if you could write something in which the Reader dies of some incurable disease and, years later, Alan dies too? Ignore this if it's a strange request.

Author's Notes: Normally I wouldn't write something like this about a real person, but I spent days reading this request and finally decided to write it, and I apologize to anyone who felt offended in any way.

Title: Sun and Rain

Summary: Alan hates the contrast between their deaths, he tries to fight it, but it's a losing battle.

Pairing: Alan Rickman × fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, Death, Nosebleed, illnesses

Word Count: 2918

Alan ate in silence, savoring the breakfast you had prepared. The air was charged with unspoken tension, a stark contrast to the playful atmosphere of the previous night. As You exchanged occasional glances, the weight of the unknown lingered.

Suddenly, Alan's fork clattered against the plate, and he looked at you with concern etched across his face. He noticed a trickle of blood running from your nose. "Love, you're bleeding," he exclaimed, his voice filled with worry.

You, composed but slightly surprised, reached for a napkin and pressed it against your nose. You excused yourself from the table, heading towards the bathroom, and Alan, propelled by concern, followed closely behind.

In the bathroom, you washed off the blood, your reflection in the mirror betraying the gravity of the situation. Alan hovered over you, his eyes searching yours for answers. "Are you okay? Does your head hurt? Are you feeling any pain?"

You, meeting his gaze, shook your head. "No, Alan. I don't feel any pain. It's just a nosebleed, probably from the dry air or stress."

Alan's brows furrowed, unconvinced. "But, love, this could be a symptom. We can't ignore it. We should go to the hospital, get you checked out."

You, facing the mirror, met your own gaze, a reflection of resignation. "Alan, there's no need. The doctors can't do anything. You know there's no cure. It's just a matter of time."

Alan, unable to accept the harsh reality, started making plans. "Maybe there's a new treatment, an experimental trial. We should explore all options."

You, facing the mirror, met your own gaze, a reflection of resignation. "Alan, there's no need. The doctors can't do anything. You know there's no cure. It's just a matter of time."

Alan, feeling a surge of helplessness, reluctantly nodded. The room echoed with the weight of your shared grief, a silent acknowledgment of the impending end.

But Alan could no longer sit and wait, so he secretly, over the next few days, called different doctors, did research on the Internet, and no matter what he did, he found nothing, no cure.

In his study, surrounded by the dim glow of the computer screen, Alan delved into the depths of medical journals, clinical trials, and forums seeking a glimmer of hope. The rhythmic clicking of keys echoed through the room as he tirelessly pursued any information that could alter your fate.

Late at night, with you asleep in the adjacent room, Alan sat alone, grappling with the harsh reality that every avenue he explored led to the same conclusion – there was no cure for your condition. His baritone voice whispered words of desperation, "There has to be something, anything that can save you."

Frustration and helplessness fueled his relentless pursuit, but the internet offered no solace. Each night, as the clock ticked away, Alan found himself immersed in a sea of medical jargon, clinical trials, and experimental treatments, all of which failed to promise the miracle he desperately sought.

With weary eyes, he stared at the screen, realizing that even his baritone voice couldn't command a solution where none existed. You, blissfully unaware of his nocturnal endeavors, slept peacefully, the weight of your shared fate temporarily lifted from your shoulders.

Days turned into nights, and Alan's pursuit of a cure became a solitary battle fought in the dim glow of the computer screen. His voice, once filled with certainty on the stage, now wavered with uncertainty as he muttered to himself, "There has to be something, a breakthrough, a miracle..."

The room, once filled with the echoes of Shakespearean verses, now bore witness to Alan's silent struggle against an adversary more formidable than any role he had portrayed. His deep, deliberate thoughts couldn't unravel the mystery of a disease that had no mercy, no remorse.

As he exhausted every conceivable avenue, Alan realized the futility of his efforts. The research, the late-night calls to specialists, the clandestine meetings with experts – all led to the same heartbreaking conclusion. There was no cure for your condition.

One evening, as Alan sat alone in the darkness of his study, his baritone voice broke the heavy silence, "I can't save you. I can't change the inevitable." The weight of those words hung in the air, a painful acknowledgment of his limitations.

In the quiet hours before dawn, Alan slipped into the bedroom, where you peacefully slept, unaware of the turmoil that consumed your husband. He gazed at you, the lines of worry etched on his face, and whispered, "I'm sorry, my love. I tried everything."

The room, dimly lit by the soft glow of moonlight, held the echo of Alan's silent confession. The realization that no amount of research, no whispered pleas to the darkness, could alter the course of your tragic journey settled into his weary heart.

In those quiet moments, as you faced the inevitable, Alan's baritone voice found solace in whispered words of love and comfort. The room, steeped in shared memories and sorrow, became a sanctuary once more, offering fleeting moments of peace amidst the storm of impending farewells.

As the days passed, Alan continued to care for you with unwavering devotion, but the specter of impending loss loomed over you. The room, once a sanctuary for your love, now bore witness to the fragility of life and the inevitability of goodbyes.

As Alan faced the harsh reality of your impending departure, he decided to cherish every moment you had left together. Determined to create new memories, he orchestrated romantic dinners, showered You with gestures of love, danced under the moonlight, cooked together, and embraced the intimate moments that made your connection unique.

Despite the looming sadness that lingered in his heart, Alan poured his soul into making your remaining time special. As you lay side by side in your backyard, gazing at the stars, he couldn't contain the whisper of vulnerability that escaped his lips.

"My love," Alan began, his baritone voice a soft murmur, "are you scared? Of... of what's to come?"

You, tired but willing to share your truth, took a moment before responding. "I'm not scared of dying, Al. My biggest fear is leaving you behind. You're my world, and the thought of not being by your side is what truly scares me."

Alan, fighting back the tears that threatened to surface, wanted to delve deeper into your fears, but you interrupted gently, "I'm really tired tonight, Alan. Let's just enjoy this moment together, okay?"

Nodding in understanding, Alan placed a tender kiss on your forehead. "Of course, my love. Sleep now. I'll be right here when you wake up."

As you slept, Alan clung to you, holding you close in your shared cocoon of warmth beneath the blanket. Both nestled in your sleeping bags, your breaths harmonized in the quiet of the night, creating a delicate lullaby that momentarily eased the weight of your reality.

When morning arrived, and the first rays of sunlight painted the backyard, Alan gently attempted to wake you. He whispered your name, softly shook your shoulders, and called to you with increasing urgency. But you, serene in your eternal slumber, remained unresponsive.

Panic seized Alan as he tried everything in his power to rouse you. He shook you more vigorously, called your name with desperation, and pleaded with you to wake up. However, you, caught in the grasp of an unyielding silence, refused to open your eyes.

Despite his efforts, your peaceful repose persisted, untouched by the outside world. Alan, in the throes of disbelief and sorrow, cradled you in his arms, tears streaming down his face.

"No, no, wake up," Alan pleaded, his baritone voice carrying a tone of desperation that echoed through the backyard. He clung to you, shaking you gently as if to dispel the cruel reality unfolding before him.

"Baby, please," he implored, his voice a heart-wrenching whisper. "This can't be happening. You can't leave me like this."

He called for an ambulance, his voice trembling as he explained the situation, the operator's words blurred by the overwhelming grief that gripped him. As he hung up, reality crashed down upon him, and he wailed in anguish.

Clinging to your lifeless form, Alan's cries reverberated through the backyard, a raw expression of the pain that threatened to consume him. In those agonizing moments, he grappled with the stark truth that you, his love and anchor, would never open your eyes again.

As he cradled your lifeless body, the backyard bore witness to the profound loss that echoed through its walls. Alan, his baritone voice reduced to desperate sobs, kissed your forehead one last time, the weight of your absence settling into the depths of his soul.

The grass beneath them seemed indifferent to the tragedy that unfolded, and Alan couldn't help but feel a profound sense of injustice. The sky stretched above them, a canvas of serene blue, completely at odds with the storm raging within him.

"It's not right," Alan whispered to himself, his baritone voice trembling with grief. "The sky should mourn you, and the world should feel the weight of this loss."

He looked up at the beautiful sky, an ache in his chest as he wished for a torrential downpour, a dramatic reflection of the turmoil in his soul. The unfair contrast between nature's calm and your departure intensified his sense of isolation.

As he stood there, lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice the arrival of the ambulance. The paramedics approached him, their faces a mixture of sympathy and professionalism. They gently took you from his arms, their actions mechanical against the backdrop of Alan's overwhelming sorrow.

The world continued with its ordinary rhythm, indifferent to the tragedy that had unfolded in the backyard. Alan felt a profound sense of loneliness, the beauty of the day contrasting sharply with the emptiness that settled into his heart.

He was snapped out of his daze when the paramedics gently guided him away from you. His eyes, still fixed on the sky, were met with the reality of the situation. The beautiful day persisted, unyielding to the pain that Alan carried.

As they loaded you into the ambulance, Alan sat in silence, his voice reduced to a whisper. The paramedics offered words of comfort, but their attempts felt distant, the reality of your absence looming over him.

The journey to the hospital was a blur, the scenery passing by in a haze. Alan's thoughts were consumed by the unfairness of it all, the disconnect between the world's beauty and the tragedy he carried within.

Upon reaching the hospital, Alan's baritone voice, usually a commanding presence, now wavered as he faced the harsh reality. The medical staff ushered him into a room, explaining the necessary procedures. He mechanically went through the motions, but his mind remained fixated on the backyard, the sky, and the unjust beauty of the day.

As the doctors examined your lifeless form, Alan sat in the hospital room, his eyes distant, contemplating the world beyond the sterile walls. The news, when it came, shattered the fragile illusion of normalcy. The beautiful day persisted, unapologetic in its existence, and Alan was left grappling with the incomprehensible truth.

In the days that followed, as Alan navigated the arrangements and condolences, the world outside continued its indifferent dance. The sky remained beautiful, the sun rose and set, and life went on. But for Alan, the echo of your absence cast a shadow over everything.

As he faced the funeral preparations and the condolences of friends and family, Alan couldn't escape the pervasive beauty of the world around him. It felt like a betrayal, a mockery of the grief he carried within.

At the funeral, surrounded by mourners and under the gaze of the beautiful sky, Alan delivered a eulogy with a voice that resonated with both love and bitterness. "Why is the world still beautiful when my wife is gone? It should mourn with us, share in our sorrow."

The beauty of the day persisted, a silent witness to Alan's anguish. He wished for rain, for thunder to match the storm within his heart. But the sky remained clear, and Alan's baritone voice, though filled with pain, echoed the words that lingered in the air.

As the ceremony concluded, Alan stood by your final resting place, gazing at the unyielding sky. The world continued its rhythm, and he, left to navigate the aftermath, felt the weight of the beautiful day as a testament to the unfairness of loss.

In the quiet moments that followed, Alan Rickman, the actor known for his deep, deliberate voice, found himself grappling not only with the absence of you but also with the relentless beauty of a world that seemed oblivious to his pain.

Years later, Alan lay in his bed, his once robust frame now weakened by the persistent battle with pancreatic cancer. As he gazed out the window, the world beyond appeared blurred, much like the lines between his memories and the impending reality.

He could feel the weight of his mortality, the knowledge that today would be his last. The room, filled with the hushed footsteps of Margaret, his maid, downstairs, carried an air of finality. Alan clung to the sheets, grappling with the bittersweet dance between acceptance and reluctance.

In the quiet moments, he couldn't help but wonder if you had felt the same as you faced your inevitable departure. Did you sense the approaching end, embracing it with the same quiet resolve, or was your departure a sudden storm that left him in the aftermath?

As Alan closed his eyes, surrendering to the embrace of mortality, a strange noise interrupted his solitude. His eyes shot open, indignant at the intrusion, only to be met with the gentle tap of raindrops against the windowpane. The sky, unforgivably, chose to weep for him.

How dare the heavens cry for his departure when they remained silent during your farewell? Alan's baritone voice, weakened but still carrying a tone of resentment, muttered, "Did you cry for her, too, or is this your belated acknowledgment of the injustice?"

He listened to the rhythmic dance of raindrops, a peculiar symphony that seemed to mock the stark contrast between his departure and your's. The world outside, painted in the somber hues of rain, provided no solace for the grievances etched in his soul.

As he lay there, sheets clutched in his weakening grasp, Alan's mind drifted to the past. He remembered your laughter, your vibrant spirit, and the unfairness of losing you to an indifferent world. The rain outside, indifferent to his resentment, continued its gentle lament.

In those final moments, Alan's thoughts lingered on the unspoken questions that had haunted him for years. Did you know your time was drawing near, and did you, too, feel the weight of the impending farewell? The answers remained elusive, lost in the echoes of the past.

Weakened but resolute, Alan lay in his bed and glanced out the window. The sound of raindrops tapping against the glass reached his ears, and a spark of anger flared within him. "Not tonight," he muttered to himself. "I won't go out like this."

Determined to have control over his final moments, Alan declared, "Just one more night, one more chance to see the beauty of the sky, like my wife did." With this conviction, he summoned the strength to endure, vowing to hold on until the heavens opened.

Days turned into nights, and Alan's mood fluctuated with the unpredictable weather. Frustration mounted as the rain persisted, denying him the chance to bid farewell under the canvas of a beautiful sky. "Stop!" he shouted at the heavens, his baritone voice echoing through the quiet room. "Let me have one night of clarity before the end."

However, the rain remained indifferent to his pleas, an unyielding force that seemed impervious to the desires of a man grappling with mortality. Alan's anger intensified, and he cursed at the heavens, demanding a reprieve from the ceaseless downpour.

A week passed, and Alan's condition worsened. In his moments of despair, he continued to beg for the rain to stop, yearning for a glimpse of the sky before his final curtain call. The heavens, however, remained unmoved by his entreaties, casting a shadow over his desperate struggle.

One stormy night, Alan, exhausted and defeated, realized that the rain might not cease anytime soon. He knew he couldn't hold on much longer, and the cruel irony of the situation weighed heavily on his heart. "Fine," he whispered, surrendering to the relentless rain. "If this is how it must be, then so be it."

In his final moments, as Alan's breaths grew shallow, the rain outside suddenly ceased. The heavens, as if responding to his silent surrender, opened up to reveal a breathtaking display of stars. The night sky, free from the veil of rain, sparkled in all its glory.

However, Alan, now at peace, could not witness this celestial spectacle. His struggle had ended, and he, like the beauty before him, slept forever, leaving behind a world now free from the burdens of his mortal wishes.

As the rain-soaked earth embraced Alan's final moments, the sky, adorned with the brilliance of a thousand stars, stood as a testament to the beauty his longed to witness. The room, once filled with the echoes of an actor's contemplative voice, now cradled the silence of eternal rest.

#alan rickman x reader #alan rickman #severus snape

[scorchedthesnake]

March 7, 2011

I moved to New York City in August 2010. My life before New York was something I’d grown completely unsatisfied with: I had moved to Connecticut for graduate school in 2001, had weathered two recessions in the relative security of academe but could see the writing on the wall for the doom of that profession and so had, via my teaching assistants union, begun to work for our international union as a communications staffer. This had given me a way out of Connecticut, though escaping the cultish environment of the union would still take a few more years.

The person I was back then was very unlike the person I am now. I wasn’t very much fun those first nine months in the city because I was just so afraid of everything. Bars scared me; too many strangers. Clubs scared me; too dark and too many unknowns and unpredictable scenarios. I was happy to be in a new place but petrified by what that freedom actually meant, and I had yet to find any place to belong or feel at home in.

I worked on 7th Avenue back then, around 27th Street. I remember sitting in my dreary cubicle that Monday, when I got a message from my best friend Matt, asking me if I wanted to go to a show that evening. No, I said, I really just want to go home and hide from the world. It’s the show John (O’Malley) is working on, he said, and he got us comps. Well what kind of show is it, I asked? “We’re gonna, like, chase sexy dancers around a warehouse.” Oh god that sounds so stupid, do I have to? “Just come with me, if you hate it you can leave.” 

So around 7pm I walked over to 10th Avenue and the block was so dumpy back then – junkyards, warehouses, not much else. I saw a small line of people gathered at the address I’d been given, so I approached and was handed this card:

I don’t remember anything about checking in or what it was like seeing Manderley for the first time, though I do remember Maximilian being there, giving a short speech and then we were taken to the elevator. I remember getting off the elevator on 3, and taking far too long to explore an empty Macbeths bedroom before, I suppose, figuring out I should investigate the other floors.

I’ve told this story often, though: at some point I came across an extremely attractive man moving quickly, so I did what it seemed like many others were doing: I followed him. We were in the 2nd loop by now, and I had realized it was a loop; but my target soon was running down High Streeet and through a darkened door and it slammed in my face and, to my surprise, was locked.

Oh, there are secret things all over here, aren’t there?

So I picked up his trail again as soon as I could, and stuck as close as I could. Including when we stumbled down all the flights of stairs and I wondered, should I call for help? Is the performer injured? But I stuck to him like glue and when he again approached that darkened door I was close enough to get inside.

And so the highlight of my first show was seeing Luke Murphy in interrogation.

After the finale I reconnected with Matt. We had, of course, seen completely different shows. As we exited we saw John. “Did you get any one on ones,” he asked? One on whats? “Well, I had one where the man in the lobby took me into a room and started putting on makeup.”

No we hadn’t seen anything like that. We immediately set about buying tickets for later in the six-week run. And we wandered the streets for a couple hours after that, comparing notes, feverishly reconstructing what we had just experienced. 

Obviously I did not sleep that night.

So much of the time you don’t know when everything has changed. You realize it long after the fact and in retrospect. Not this, this I knew was a fundamental shift. I’d never felt my senses at full alert like that, my mind racing trying to make sense of something so visceral. The music rang in my ears for hours, days later, and I knew when I came back, I’d need a plan.

#sleep no more #sleepnomore #mckittrick hotel #sleepnomorenyc #sleep no more nyc #punchdrunk #mckittrick

[s1ithers]

ok one post about the ign interview bc the bit about the evil route just hit so weird

putting aside my initial reaction that it's a condescending way to treat your audience, it's like genuinely—what's the point of an evil run? what do people want out of that? many possible answers, my main one would be to explore a character with different motivations. but they went with, 'let the player indulge the worst impulses they're assumed to have and then punish them for it,' and, why?

yeah, killing the tieflings is heinous and feels bad. but discussion that takes the scenario itself as a given and goes 'how could you the player choose to do this horrible thing, of course there's less content, what did you expect' like man...i wanted to see the other option in your branching-choices rpg. you, the writers, have full control over this whole setup. a secondary/evil route could have been anything. you chose to make it this. why put it in if it's a narrative dead-end that just exists a moral gotcha? why center the big act 1 choice point around that?

it feels like a dm going hey dipshit, if you keep killing all my npcs there's not going to be any story, which, fair. but you're making a video game, you hold all the cards. why so much focus on rebuking the worst kind of players when you're free to just not write avenues for that kind of behavior into the plot

it's like they're wedded to one conception of what an 'evil' playstyle is that they feel obligated to but don't really respect or want to write for. by dnd law, we HAVE to include The Evil Route where you kill everybody indiscriminately, but if you take it you're bad and you should feel bad. and again, just....why spend the resources on smth you have contempt for. it doesn't have to be wanton destruction. there's a thousand more interesting ways to do dark side characters. why not come up with an alternative way for PCs to interact with the plot that you're actually enthused about writing?

#well the budget factor i guess #i'm not even that big on playing evil in rpgs it wouldn't get my goat the way it does except #i think the whole thing is brought down by this sort of heavy-handedness they keep confirming isn't just my imagination #like roleplay comes in two modes. goody twoshoes & murderhobo #i don't want to play either of those man i just want to play an assortment of little guys who belong to world they live in #tho the one writer who said he likes playing evil bc it's shorter and you get more cool fights........he is real for that #bg3 #ok i'm done bitching about this lol #i've got it out of my system #like the take that an empty world is 'true reactivity' i.e. truer than swapping in different content. i'm just. i'm just. #how is that not just putting your story on rails. i'm #ok i'm done for real