#engaging microscope

[archduchessgortash]

The fact that Gortash will decide to kill your character if you choose the dialogue option to freely give him the Netherstones is one of my favorite things about him. It either supports his opinion of the player character as his equal, is indicative of rebellion against one of the core principles of his religion, or shows evidence of the Absolute's ability to influence him.

It also suggests that he's not the dom that much of the fandom makes him out to be in their headcanons.

Banite doctrine dictates that subordinates must be subservient to their masters. Subservience in this specific interaction, however, can get your character killed. Worse yet, babygurl is now the enemy. Perhaps, then, they are NOT his subordinate? 🤔

The newly appointed Archduke has generously acknowledged your character as worthy. If he does not see them as his true equal, then he at least sees them as a valuable ally with the potential to be an equal. Your character's submissiveness is an insult to him. How dare they suggest by their willingness to give up the Netherstones that he would permit them to take his own stone without a fight? How dare they be so spineless as to simply do as he says?

If that is who they are, they can roll over and die. He has no use for them.

If he truly sees your character as his subordinate, refusing to allow them to behave as one is directly opposed to his own religious doctrine. Even the Banites' own codes state that the rules of the cult are the only ones that they are obligated to follow. All others are irrelevant. If they are indeed his lesser, Gortash should accept the stones and let your character tag along as cannon fodder, but he doesn't. Is it a subtle rebellion against Bane, or could it be the Absolute exerting her influence to bring the Astral Prism to her directly?

If Gortash is brought to the morphic pool, the Absolute makes it clear that she was in charge, at least from the point of Orin's attack on Durge. She let Gortash and the others believe that they controlled her while she used them to grow more and more powerful. It's fun to think that the genius mastermind was ultimately no more than the Absolute's pawn. How many of his decisions were influenced by her? How much of the Golden Reign of Gortash would even have been Gortash at all? 🤔

The Absolute is as interesting to ponder as the scrunkly Banite himself.

From a personal perspective, the fact that this man expects his allies to stand up to him is one of the reasons that I like him. It also supports my theory of him as a switch, not a dom. Anyone who flat-out submits to him is not worth his time, beyond the time spent to end them, that is. He's a little like Brynhildr. She would only wed one who was without fear.

As popular as top Gortash is, I don't personally see it as particularly in-character for him. The delivery on some of Gortash's more dominant lines is certainly attractive in its tone, so I can totally see why fans would want that. However, in the circumstances in which the lines are spoken in-game, they don't inspire me to fall to my knees. 'You will follow, and you will show due respect' is so very throat-punch worthy.

Ballsy of Gortash to think he can talk like that to someone who has been utterly annihilating his religious hoax... and happens to have recently ganked an immortal paladin.

Plus, the avatar of Myrkul.

And possibly every living Bhaalist in the city, including his high priest and his chosen.

Maybe an undead dragon.

Perhaps even the son of Mephistopheles in his own house.

Gortash wants to say, 'Yes, dear.'

I love that you have to call Gortash's bluff not once but twice, or you're not worth keeping alive. He is surrounded by sycophantic Banites who will do anything he wants because of the way in which their hierarchy is structured. It must get pretty boring after a while. His dislike of Orin isn't the only reason he's so thrilled to see Durge.

I think the last thing he truly wants to hear is a, 'Yes, sir/master.'

[hydrus101]

Minor Part 42 Spoilers

I know it’s intended to be a funny little throw away line, but the “Was I this bad?” exchange is so so so so important to me.

John, less than even an hour ago, committed a horrible atrocity against Arthur. It doesn’t matter that the deal was fake, he still intended to go through with it. Fully. He threatened Arthur’s memories, threatened his autonomy, threatened his very well being in a moment of fear and rage and human helplessness and grief. For all intents and purposes, Arthur should still be livid with him, should still bear that affront like a freshly bleeding wound. He should hate John, just a little. But he doesn’t. The second John shows even the slightest hint of self consciousness, that little sliver of weakness, an awareness of his growth and where he began and how far he’s come, a tiny fracture in the armor of his newborn human ego, Arthur immediately goes to reassure him.

“No-” You weren’t that bad. You were fine. You did great. A thousand little unspoken reassurances. Platitudes, maybe, since he was being untruthful kind.

John was that bad. Yorick has no reason to lie or exaggerate, he was this bad at the beginning and Arthur would be well within his rights to affirm that. To put him down. To lash out in some petty little way and get his licks in while the wound still drips, but he doesn’t. Doesn’t even think about it. His first instinct isn’t to dig his thumb into the scar and inflict on John some tiny hurt, but to soothe him, not out of fear that he might make good on his earlier threat, but out of genuine care. Out of friendship, Out of love.

[yanderefairyangel]

Someone on twittX suggested that I'd draw the meeting between Alear (M!) and Lumera and since I ... well, almost NEVER draw the poor M!Alear, I was like hey why not ?

[wyvernquill]

what are your top 5 armandaniel moments from the show? :D

Ah, thank you very much for the ask! Let's see...

#1 - s2ep2, The Lestat-as-co-founder-of-the-Theatre reveal moment, with Daniel putting on the telenovela music and Armand listing some of his other 'conquests' - they're totally messing with each other here, it's petty and weird and theatrical and I grin every time. Honorable mention to the potential for "you shared a boyfriend!" to get very ironic if more Armand/Daniel happened in the past, and also Louis sitting there going "...did you!?" at Armand's story about "Now, Voyager". I don't know, it's just very funny, says a lot about both of them really, and I like it when a ship does A Bit, either together or, like here, *against* each other.

#2 - s2ep6, The argument over the San Francisco memories. As opposed to my #1, this one's raw and bitter and tense (they're still messing with each other, but the stakes are higher and the attacks more vicious...), and I love it very much. "I didn't forgive you" and "why did I owe ~YOU~ my one act of cowardice?" are lines that hit very hard, I enjoy how Daniel keeps not buying the excuses even as Louis begins wavering, even though Armand directed most of them at Daniel to start with... it's a very interesting and powerful scene showcasing the shifting dynamics of these three, and I once more like the potential for recontextualisation if Armand and Daniel have more history than previously advertised.

#3 - s2ep5, All of it, really. Obvious choice maybe, but oh well. I love the juxtaposition of the dramatic past and Louis and Daniel putting their feet into the rock garden in the present, the new angles we see of the characters in a memory of the past that *isn't* very carefully curated for interview purposes, and, I mean, "I could be on my knees in a second" - >small nod to force him to his knees<...

#4 - s1ep7, The reveal, particularly Armand floating so Daniel has to stare up at him. It's a nice mirror to the power dynamic and positioning we see in s2ep5, and overall just a wonderfully dramatic scene with Armand removing his disguise in the back while Daniel is ripping into Louis. The theatralics of it all are very *Armand,* and Daniel being struck nearly speechless by surprise (and maybe awe? something else?) for once is also great, though we all know he's just gearing up to tear into Armand too in s2.

#5 - s1ep6, Daniel dreaming of first meeting Louis in Polynesian Mary's... but, gasp! Inexplicably, 'Rashid' is there, too! And meanwhile, in the waking world, 'Rashid' is probably busy tucking a blanket over Daniel while he sleeps. Honestly I just love the flashback, Daniel and Louis' semi-flirting, the way it sets up the reveal in the next episode, and, well. I do like to imagine that the blanket-tucking was done by Armand and was oddly tender. I just think the whole thing's neat.

I probably forgot a number of moments I really enjoyed, but, well, these were the first five I could think of! Louis has snuck into a lot of them, but that is unsurprising, at least in s1 and s2 all three of them are very tangled up in each other, and it's difficult to pick a moment with two of them that doesn't involve the third somehow (except maybe the Loumand scenes in the past, but they narrate those to Daniel, so...) Looking forward to seeing those dynamics shaken up in s3, I suppose! (also, Devil's Minion in the past, pls? Chase, pls? Pls?)

[kaori04]

dont send me an anonimous hate on the film I clearly am a fan of. post your opinion on your blog from your acc.

[slanky-here]

I'm always really happy when I find someone that likes all three Gautier men and you're so spot on about them. I've been going through your posts about them going 'yeah that's absolutely right!' and 'YEAH YOU GET IT, YOU GET IT', lmao. Thanks for sharing your thoughts about them! I struggle sometimes to properly put it into words what I like about them so much, but you nailed it!

Real ones see the triforce dynamic that all of the Gautier men have with one another ✌️

A beautifully messy family is wasted on an annoying fanbase who wants to hatesink characters most of the time

[frenchifries]

trying my damndest to exist in social circles with the belief that others are being genuine in their friendliness towards me only for me to inevitably say something that i feel like came out weird and someone to respond in a sub-optimal way and suddenly the sirens in my head i've been working so hard to suppress start going crazy like ah fuck i knew it they all hate me and wish i wasn't here bc i'm some sort of freak who will never actually be one of them -_-

[saaski]

the autistic experience of your trauma becoming a special interest against your will

[archetypeofadespota]

Truly it's a cliche that people kind of complain about writers asking for comments all the time, but on god sometimes a single comment is the difference between me writing another chapter and me convincing myself my writing is trash and cramming my drafts into the wood chipper. Tip your waiters, honor your supports, and comment on your writers, folks!

WE'RE BACK BABEYYYYY!! MARK THOSE CALENDARS AND GET READY TO JUST LEAVE A COMMENT

[iamnotlookingidonotseeit]

surprising no one I'm still mad actually about having to keep playing volleyball. what a waste of my fucking time.

[darkmatilda]

𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: spencer needs your help examining a crucial piece of evidence...but the moment he sees you, his mind goes blah blah blah...proper name, place name, backstory stuff...

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x diva!chemist! female reader, same reader as in pick your poison but you don’t need to read that first—there aren’t any major references, suggestion that the reader engages in casual hook ups, reader has a belly button piercing and a described outfit, spencer's pov only

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 2k

𝐚/𝐧: requested by @trulymadlydarling it was slowly gathering dust in my inbox 😭 sorry!

"I think the threshold of my lab isn't exactly the best place for camping."

A woman's silhouette cast a shadow over Spencer as she appeared right above him in the dimly lit hallway.

Spencer sighed in frustration and hauled himself to his feet. As he brushed off his pants, he kept his eyes off the woman in front of him.

"Well, I didn't think you'd make me wait fifty-eight—"

"Oh, just say the hour. Is rounding numbers really that hard for you?" she scoffed, her voice carrying a trace of genuine curiosity. She swiped her access card, unlocking the door to the lab. With her back turned to him, he took in her appearance—an oversized fur coat draped over her shoulders, a designer handbag hanging from one arm. His gaze drifted downward, and to his surprise, he noticed…pajama pants and slippers?

"You should be grateful I even bothered to show up at this hour," she added.

"This is really important," Spencer replied as she led him inside.

She moved through the space with effortless familiarity, heading straight for the light switch. Well, this was her domain, after all—the place where she spent most of her days.

"I don't care," she replied. "Unless you've found proof that Marilyn Monroe was the Zodiac Killer all along—then, well, I care a little. Honestly, you have no idea how much you owe me for showing up..."

He rolled his eyes.

"Should I be thanking you on my knees, or...?"

"I could have been busy. I could have been out with the girls at a club. I could have been having the night of my life..."

"I get it, you made a huge sacrifice answering my request, but can you now—"

"I could have been in bed already. My own. Or not my own," she glanced at him over her shoulder. "Though in that case, I wouldn’t have picked up."

Spencer simply sighed. By now, he was used to it—the way most of their conversations followed the same pattern. How she always set the pace, steering the direction as she pleased. How she sometimes deliberately ignored his words and didn’t care if it made her seem rude. How, in general, she didn’t care what impression she left on others.

He had witnessed it countless times, found it irritating every single time, and yet—every single time—he kept the conversation going. Funny.

She switched on only one of the lights, leaving the room bathed in a soft twilight. Her handbag landed on the long counter beside one of the microscopes, and she tossed her fur coat next to it, completely unconcerned about knocking something over.

Sometimes, he watched her with quiet fascination—the effortless confidence in her movements—and wondered if she had ever, even once, smacked her hip against a doorframe. Or stubbed her toe on a cabinet. Those small, mundane humiliations and everyday mishaps simply didn’t seem to fit with who she was.

He tightened his grip on the plastic bag he had brought with him, the one containing something that needed to be examined. The team didn’t know about it yet.

The thought, the theory, had quite literally yanked him out of sleep. He couldn’t function without checking this lead immediately. But he knew that if he went through the lab, he’d have to wait until morning for the results…so he decided to ask for a friendly favor.

Okay friendly was a big word.

They had known each other for a few months, worked together on several cases, gone on a date, slept together.

Not necessarily in that order.

He was just about to open his mouth, say something, hand her the bag… when, for the first time, he actually saw her in better light than the dim glow—or rather, lack of it—in the hallway. Against his own will, his gaze started its journey over her.

From the slippers on her feet, up the loose pajama pants that ended just below the piercing in her navel, the black camisole with thin straps, to her face—completely free of makeup.

Until now, he had only seen her in two versions. One was her usual, elegant work attire. The other was her evening look—form-fitting, designed to turn heads and keep them there.

On second thought, there was also a third version. Without clothes.

But he had never seen her like this. Casual, comfortable, dressed for nothing more than wandering the walls of her own apartment.

She lifted her arms to tie her hair into a ponytail, and her shirt rode up slightly.

“If my piercing fascinates you that much, I can give you my piercer’s number,” she offered dryly, a fleeting smirk on her lips as she caught his stare. He immediately snapped his gaze back to her face, cursing internally when he realized he probably looked like he had been caught staring. Which, of course, he hadn’t been. “Excellent work. Full professionalism. Experienced hands…”

"I need you to check this stain," he interrupted, raising the bag.

They had been talking too much, and he really needed to know if his suspicions were correct.

She stepped closer to take the bag from him.

“Is this a crucial piece of evidence, or can I touch it?”

“You can touch it…”

She stopped just a step away, shifting her weight onto one hip and tilting her head to get a better look.Spencer instinctively straightened, feeling a strange tension along his spine.Earlier, he had been looking at what she was wearing. Now, what caught his attention was how she looked.

There’s a certain kind of beauty you never quite get used to, no matter how often you see it. The kind that, every time, knocks the air from your lungs for just a second—that fleeting disbelief that someone like this actually walks the earth.

She had it. She radiated it.

And she was just a step away.

She took the garment out of the bag. It was a red turtleneck sweater. She lifted it higher toward the light, furrowing her brow as she examined the stain.

Spencer’s gaze fell on her beautiful face, her eyes shimmering slightly, her lower lip slightly pursed in thought.

Suddenly, she scoffed, snapping him back to reality.

"Mystery solved, and I didn’t even need a microscope," she said, shoving the sweater back into his hands. As he took it, his fingers brushed against hers, catching him slightly off guard. "It’s foundation. I’d recognize that stain anywhere. So, hooray, happy to help, no need to put me in the case report, have a good night, and see you—"

He grabbed her wrist before she could step away, stopping her in place.

"This isn’t a joke," he said, his voice dropping, tinged with sudden irritation.She raised an eyebrow at both his tone and the way he—unintentionally—closed the distance between them. As usual, she looked him straight in the eyes, and as usual, it was hard not to be drawn in. But he tried, because this case was really consuming his thoughts. "Listen, I called you because I need someone to actually test it. Not just glance at it. It'll only take a moment, and then you can go back to crawling into bed with whoever you want. Can you do that?"

The second-to-last sentence made her expression shift slightly.

For a moment, they stood there, unwavering, eyes locked without so much as a blink. Then, the corners of her lips tugged upward—just barely. But it felt more like a forced gesture, an attempt to maintain her carefully practiced expression, rather than a sign of genuine amusement.

"Alright," she replied softly. Not to be mistaken for shyly. There was nothing shy about her, a fact he was reminded of constantly.

"I’ll test it, since it matters so much to you. And then I’m going back to bed." A slow blink before she yanked the sweater from his hands. "With whoever I want."

Why did swallowing suddenly stop being an automatic reflex and turn into something he had to consciously work through?

"That’s great," he said shortly, dryly. He could feel himself slipping into the trap again, letting her toy with him. "Have fun."

"I will."

With that simple assurance, she walked away, and the very particles of air around him seemed to loosen, finally allowing him to breathe again. He turned after her instinctively, the way a swivel chair spins when someone sets it in motion.

She crossed the lab table and leaned over an empty workstation—empty, like all the others. The entire width of the counter separated them now, along with the return of cool detachment to her face. Slowly, Spencer rested his hands on the smooth surface, watching as she got to work. Watching as her hair bounced slightly with the shift in position. Watching as her jaw tensed in concentration. Watching as she leaned over the workstation slightly.

"So," she began flatly, not pausing her work or even looking at him.

Spencer gave his head a small shake, realizing that this time, he really had been staring. At least she hadn’t seen it.

"What exactly am I testing?"

His gaze drifted to her again.

"Something related to the case."

"Wow, I never would've guessed."

He was too distracted to mentally slap himself for how pathetic he was. 

"Uh, it’s not exactly groundbreaking," he began.

He could focus—he just had to try hard enough. He just had to clear the lingering trace of her scent from when she’d stood so close. Had to shake off the echo of her words. With whoever I want, she had said. The more he thought about it, the more accurate it seemed. He firmly believed she could have whoever she wanted. With that confidence. With that face. With that body…

"That’s why I’m checking it after hours. Just, you know…backstory stuff…"

A sound escaped her lips—somewhere between a scoff of disbelief and a startled laugh. She looked at him—no, she pinned him with her gaze.

"Backstory stuff?" she repeated, her lips curling into a smile. Not even a mocking one anymore. She was genuinely amused. "Did you, Doctor Spencer Reid, when asked what the evidence pertains to, actually respond with backstory stuff…?"

“No, I…I mean…”

“Oh God, it’s a good thing they don’t put you in front of cameras. Imagine you, at a press conference. Just casually dropping backstory stuff on national television…”

“I can handle myself in front of cameras,” he clarified, feeling an odd warmth creep up the back of his neck. “But there aren’t any here. And besides, I didn’t realize you wanted me to recite the entire case file from memory…”

“That won’t be necessary,” she said with another amused snort. “Backstory stuff is actually a surprisingly accurate term. You know, very professional.”

He rolled his eyes, feigning irritation, though what he really felt was more akin to embarrassment.

“Speaking of professionalism, maybe you could get back to work?” he suggested.

“I don’t have to,” she replied, flashing him a sweet smile. “I already checked everything. And I was wrong. It’s not foundation—it’s nitroglycerin.”

Spencer’s jaw practically hit the floor.

For the first time since stepping into the lab, his mind was running at full capacity.

"Nitroglycerin? Are you sure?"

"Well, I don’t get these things wrong," she said, almost offended.

"Nitroglycerin," he repeated in a whisper.

Oh, for heaven’s sake. Suddenly, everything made sense.

She leaned her elbows on the table, watching him with interest.

He wanted to kiss her.

No—he did not—

"Thank you," he blurted out, her words becoming background noise as his thoughts raced. "Thank you for coming. This…this really helps. I have to tell the team—"

He turned toward the door, dazed by the realization.

Something stopped him.

"Spencer," she called gently.

She didn’t seem angry that he was leaving so abruptly. If anything, there was a certain soft glint in her eyes, a quiet fascination with his sudden revelation. Standing in the doorway, he looked at her one last time, feeling himself freeze in place again. He said nothing, sensing that she wanted to say something instead.

She tilted her head slightly.

"You owe me a favor," she said.

There was something about the way she said it—something that sent a slow, deliberate shiver down his spine. Not even a shiver. More like a careful march of cold fingertips down his vertebrae.

So, naturally, he did what any grown man with an IQ of 187 would do.

He parted his lips slightly and nodded.

[renthony]

In Defense of Shitty Queer Art

Queer art has a long history of being censored and sidelined. In 1895, Oscar Wilde’s novel The Picture of Dorian Gray was used as evidence in the author’s sodomy trials. From the 1930s to the 1960s, the American Hays Code prohibited depictions of queerness in film, defining it as “sex perversion.” In 2020, the book Steven Universe: End of an Era by Chris McDonnell confirmed that Rebecca Sugar’s insistence on including a sapphic wedding in the show is what triggered its cancellation by Cartoon Network. According to the American Library Association, of the top ten most challenged books in 2023, seven were targeted for their queer content. Across time, place, and medium, queer art has been ruthlessly targeted by censors and protesters, and at times it seems there might be no end in sight.

So why, then, are queer spaces so viciously critical of queer art?

Name any piece of moderately-well-known queer media, and you can find immense, vitriolic discourse surrounding it. Audiences debate whether queer media is good representation, bad representation, or whether it’s otherwise too problematic to engage with. Artists are picked apart under a microscope to make sure their morals are pure enough and their identities queer enough. Every minor fault—real or perceived—is compiled in discourse dossiers and spread around online. Lines are drawn, and callout posts are made against those who get too close to “problematic art.”

Modern examples abound, such as the TV show Steven Universe, the video game Dream Daddy, or the webcomic Boyfriends, but it’s far from a new phenomenon. In his book Hi Honey, I’m Homo!, queer pop culture analyst Matt Baume writes about an example from the 1970s, where the ABC sitcom titled Soap was protested by homophobes and queer audiences alike—before a single episode of the show ever aired. Audiences didn’t wait to actually watch the show before passing judgment and writing protest letters.

After so many years starved for positive representation, it’s understandable for queer audiences to crave depictions where we’re treated well. It’s exhausting to only ever see the same tired gay tropes and subtext, and queer audiences deserve more. Yet the way to more, better, varied representation is not to insist on perfection. The pursuit of perfection is poison in art, and it’s no different when that art happens to be queer.

When the pool of queer art is so limited, it feels horrible when a piece of queer art doesn’t live up to expectations. Even if the representation is technically good, it’s disappointing to get excited for a queer story only for that story to underwhelm and frustrate you.

But the world needs that disappointing art. It needs mediocre art. It even needs the bad art. The world needs to reach a point where queer artists can fearlessly make a mess, because if queer artists can only strive for perfection, the less art they can make. They may eventually produce a masterpiece, but a single masterpiece is still a drop in the bucket compared to the oceans of censorship. The only way to drown out bigotry and offensive stereotypes created by bigots is to allow queer artists the ability to experiment, learn through making mistakes, and represent their queer truth even if it clashes with someone else’s.

If queer artists aren’t allowed to make garbage, we can never make those masterpieces everyone craves. If queer artists are terrified at all times that their art will be targeted both by bigots and their own queer communities, queer art cannot thrive.

Let queer artists make shitty art. Let allies to queer people try their hand at representation, even if they miss the mark. Let queer art be messy, and let the artists screw up without fear of overblown retribution.

It’s the only way we’ll ever get more queer art.

_

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[ikeukiss]

THE BOY IS MINE | 이희승

⟢ PAIRING: lee heeseung x fem!reader ⟢ WORD COUNT: 2.3k ⟢ GENRE: smut ⟢ TAGS: secret relationship au, semi-fwb, idol!reader, idol!heeseung, semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), pet names (baby, love, etc.), unprotected sex ⟢ SYNOPSIS: A company costume party is not the perfect place for your relationship with Heeseung to be exposed. So, like rational people, you both decide to have a rendezvous in a closet when jealousy rears its ugly head, if only to prove to each other who you belong to. ➸ original banner (at the end of fic) created by @hobeemin ♡

A costume party for hundreds of celebrities was as ideal as expected. The lingering, dramatic stare-offs between exes with bad blood created a thin layer of tension for some partygoers. The whispers of rumored hookups in the bathrooms at parties prior to this one caused an onslaught of prying eyes. With every motion of an idol, there was a microscope ready to catch every moment worthy of gossip.

Heeseung kept to himself since the beginning of the night, only conversing with his fellow members rather than other idols and leadership teams. It wasn’t that the guy was rude, not at all; he just didn’t focus on paying attention to the engagements of his colleagues. His job was to make music, perform, and then live his life. Once he was off the clock, nobody but Heeseung knew about what went on in his bed.  He preferred it that way.

“Come on, Seung. We gotta try and find some action tonight.” Jay tips his cowboy hat in his friend’s direction. The Toy Story costume did not suit him, and Heeseung made sure to tell him so when he bought it as the guys kept to the superhero theme they picked out. But, against the better judgment of his seniors, Jay tends to do what he wants. And tonight, it’s clear where his intentions lay.

“I’m not feeling it,” Heeseung responds, shrugging and drinking the beer in his glass, some of the liquid dripping onto his cowl. The plastic Batman mask itches Heeseung’s face, but it keeps him from being picked out immediately by randoms in the room.

“Seriously? Don’t be such a wet blanket, dude.”

”If you want pussy, go talk to Jake or Hoon, man.” The two aforementioned boys were chatting up some girls from a group under Pledis. With their respective Spiderman and Iron Man masks off, it’s easy to discern their place in the crowd of people. At the bar in the corner with their conversation partners, they’re on a mission to end All Hallow’s Eve with a bang.

Before Jay can respond, his eyes go wide in recognition and a smile spreads across his face. “Ah, I get it now. You’ve been waiting on her.”

Heeseung’s head turns, and he feels all the blood in his body go straight to his core. In a Catwoman costume, completely clad in a latex-coated suit and red lipstick, he may go insane and take you on the floor in front of everyone. Even in the mask that hides half of your face, he can see how your eyes darken when you capture his attention, the borders of his mouth watering at your figure.

He downs what’s left of his alcohol and readdresses his friend. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

”Sure.” When Jay sees you continue your path towards Heeseung, he makes his exit in the direction of the bar. “Have fun and use condoms!”

Heeseung wants to slap Jay silly for saying his parting words so loudly, but the feeling dissipates seeing you so close. 

When you first met, it was a strictly platonic environment between friendly coworkers. It wasn’t in his mind then to progress to whatever your relationship was now, a partnership that dances the lines between a sexual agreement and a full-blown relationship. But now, the feelings in his chest are ready to explode in the tiny banquet hall the company rented for the party. He wants to kiss you senseless, smear your lipstick on his face, and press his face to other parts of you, but he knows that would expose both of you to extreme scrutiny.

It was not out of the bounds of your contract to date or sleep with coworkers under the same label. Still, it was extremely frowned upon by your peers. Keeping your relationship a secret was not difficult though, burner accounts and private meetups both yours and Heeseung’s best friends.

Heeseung tries to keep his sexual appetite at bay when you finally make it to him.  You pose with one hip jutting out, causing your whip to jiggle at your side.

“Selina Kyle, right?” He asks rhetorically, a smirk on his lips.

“Thanks for noticing, Master Wayne.” Your British accent causes Heeseung to emit a chest-rumbling laugh. “You look handsome.”

“And you look…” Although you’re nestled in your corner of the expansive room, he knows he can’t outright describe all the ways he wants to tear the costume off of you. Hands, teeth, the list is endless. But he settles with a simple answer that hopefully says just enough. “Incredible.”

“You’re just saying that ‘cause of the spandex.”

His eyebrow quirks, unsurprised you could tell exactly what was on his mind. Six months of fucking made it easy to discern a person’s words from their tells. “I’m saying it because you always look incredible. The spandex is just a bonus.”

The tension between you is electric. Even prior to the first time you slept with him, the signs were there. You felt the buzz under your skin at his presence even if he said nothing and it was ever too brief. His gaze and body would linger during practices or studio sessions,  his being too close but not close enough if you were honest with yourself.

Heeseung tries to be discreet as he attempts to grab your hand under the cover of shadows. You shuck him off in the presence of so many eyes. “Not here, Hee.” You frown, wanting nothing more than to feel his fingers in between yours, his warmth bringing an unexplainable comfort. “You know they’ll talk.”

“They already are.” Heeseung practically hears the bullshit discussions between the surrounding people. Can you believe that? They probably picked out their outfits together. How can they be so obvious?

Your initial confidence is dampened by the thoughts that Heeseung knows you both share, but he shrugs off the chitchat about you both that could be occurring nearby. “Matching costumes can just be a coincidence.”

“Is that what they’re calling it?” You laugh sadly,  knowing you have to leave his side to avoid suspicions. The night may not be over, but you can’t stay too close unless you want to bring everything out in the open. “I’ll talk to you later.”

Heeseung can’t keep his focus on anything but you, conversing and laughing with gentlemen from other groups under the same label. The idiots came up with some Cowboys and Aliens-inspired costumes, and the flirting taking place between you and these men makes Heeseung scoff. How could you be impressed by a guy with a cowboy hat on? 

The interactions occurring in front of Heeseung make his skin crawl, the image of you smiling for guys who aren’t him hitting like a stone in his gut. He knows he’s not your boyfriend, and no labels were ever discussed at the start of your relationship, but that doesn’t take the sting out of it. And his feelings aren’t curbed by the alcohol in his cup.

Unable to avoid his distaste anymore, he excuses himself from his conversation with the random executives who bothered him ten minutes ago to saunter over to your spot in the banquet hall. “Excuse me, gentleman. I need to speak to Catwoman for a second.”

You barely say goodbye to Jeongin and Yeongbo before Heeseung takes you by the arm and into the hallway of the building. He looks around in rapid motion, and finds an open door to shove the two of you into. The makeshift closet provides enough space for the two of you, but not much.

Heeseung takes the cowl off of his head and throws it to his side, his eyes dark due to more than just the black paint around the upper portion of his face. “Heeseung, what’re you—“

He suddenly knocks you back into the wall of the closet and slams his mouth into yours, his tongue and teeth colliding with yours frantically. Your desire spikes when he palms on of your breasts over your costume, the latex wrinkling under his touch, “Fuck, seeing you with other guys drives me insane.”

You scoff, a smirk on your lips. “Like I was happy to see you talking to Yunjin earlier.”

“Don’t be like that.” His eyes glint with mischief at your response, but it melts into pure sincerity that makes your heart kickflip. “You know I only have eyes for you.”

“Likewise.” You nip his lips and knock him down to his knees. Before he can catch his breath, you lower the front zipper at the center of your costume and shrug it off of your arms, revealing the black-lace set covering the places Heeseung knows by heart. “Now touch me.”

“Jesus.” He hooks his thumbs into the sides of your underwear to yank down, careful to not rip the fabric. “Did you plan this or something?” 

“You’re the one that pulled me into this room, baby.”

Heeseung smirks and presses a kiss to the center of your midriff, testing and teasing before going in for the kill. He nuzzles his face against your clit, kissing the bundle with adoration.

In the end, when he first saw you walking over to him at the start of the night, you both had to have known it would end like this, lost in each other and away from the rest of the world’s opinions and influence. Fuck them, Heeseung thinks. If their scrutiny meant he still found himself here, in between your legs and showing you how much you meant to him, he would take every comment with a smile.

“You taste incredible,” Heeseung whispers before passing his tongue against your slick folds, lapping up the wetness like he has never eaten anything better than you. “Just like always.”

“More,” you whisper, putting your hand under his chin to look at you. Even in the low light surrounding the small space, you can see the glint of his lips from your arousal. “I want more of you.”

“As you wish.” He stands up and kisses you deeply. “Wrap your legs around me, love.”

He lifts you with ease, his muscles expanding to reveal their form even in his bulky costume. You can’t wait to feel the heat of his skin against yours later when you’re truly alone. It’s never been a one-and-done with him, going many rounds without stopping, whether you had expected it to go that long or not. His sex drive was unstoppable when he was in the mood, and it seemed whenever he was with you, he didn’t have any intentions of slowing down.

By the time he enters you, your body is already welcoming him from the previous foreplay. It makes him hiss with pleasure, the tone low to avoid any strangers  in the hallway from hearing and speculating. You capture his lips with yours, letting the extent of his moan be swallowed by your lips.

“Does it feel good, baby?” He asks, the whisper as loud as any groan he could emit. He releases one of your breasts from your bra, kneading the skin tenderly. “It’s fucking incredible for me, the way you stretch around me like this.”

“Fuck, you know you’re amazing, Hee.” You scratch your hands down his arms as he thrusts inside of you, the only available skin to take hold of.

“You’re all mine, you know that right?” He captures your eyes with his stare, going slower to punish you until you give him the answer he’s looking for. Fortunately for him, you don’t mind giving him what he wants if he does the same.

“Yes, all yours.” He resumes his original speed, sucking on the skin of your neck to create hickeys only he will know about. He loves to mark you and see your excruciating attempts to cover them up, makeup only going so far before friends and coworkers asked about what had occurred the night before.

If there’s anything as strong as Heeseung’s lust, it’s his pride. And he was as proud as he could be knowing he could claim you so well, even if only the two of you knew about it.

“Hee, I’m gonna come,” you whimper, holding on tighter to reach your end faster.

“Do it baby, let go for me.” He kisses you again to swallow the deep moan that leaves your lips as you come. If only you could shout from the rooftops how good he made you feel. How he was as impeccable as a lover as he was a person, just to make every adoring fan and foe of his envious of your spot in his life.

Your body feels like lead by the time you come down from the high, Heeseung has to hold onto you harder so you don’t crumble onto the floor.

“Hold on tight.” He braces his body with one hand against the wall behind you as his pace speeds up to an exhausting degree. His muscles twitch as he releases inside of you, burying his face in your neck to not let the groan escape his throat. His breath is hot on your skin, but you love the feeling of him so vulnerable as he lets go.

You kiss him quickly when he raises his head, his eyes half-lidded. “For a cat, you didn’t scratch that hard,” he says, lips upturned.

“Fuck off.” Heeseung helps you get dressed again, zipping up the front of your costume for you while you try to wipe away the remnants of your red lipstick from his face to no avail. He’ll have to wipe it off in the bathroom before going back to the party, but you doubt he cares much. “Come to mine after?”

He feels foolish for thinking tonight may be the night to discuss your relationship status, but stranger things have happened. Like the bat and the cat joining forces, per say. He kisses you again before leaving you with, “Of course.”

@seokgyuu @mini-mews @jayparked @heesuncore @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @jenoslutie @loserlvrss

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊

@kvanity-main @sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @sayxonet @violetanet @svthub @whipped-kpop-creators

ORIGINAL FIC BANNER BELOW ⤵

[dcggersedge]

"Love doesn't save lives." Love didn't save Florra Port. Love didn't save Givre Port. Love didn't bring a king back from the cathedral. Love could do a lot of things, but it rarely stopped to save those who were powerless in war. "Love won't bring back the people who die for it either."

She's only ever seen that happen once, and it had been one of the most horrifying moments of her life.

She adds the charm onto her bracelet and gives it a little shake. They're loud and clunky as they bounce off each other. With a sigh, Yunaka straightens up and nods to Edelgard. "Sure have! Planning on taking a look at them with someone later, in fact."

Oh, she was a funny one to be talking about wishes. Yunaka giggles innocently. "Thanks for the advice! I hope one of us gets to see those wishes come true." They both knew who she meant.

She hasn't gone back to speak to Edelgard much after the attack. She isn't sure what to say. She isn't sure she wants to say anything at all. The blood of that incident hadn't fallen on Edelgard's hands, but that doesn't change the fact she's preparing to drench them either.

Wordlessly, she stops at Edelgard's side. The turtle charm is offered as she watches over the other party guests.

"...It's nice here." She finally says. "The land is rather beautiful. I see why you love Adrestia so much." She waits a moment to make sure that no one is close enough to hear before she continues. "I hope you won't regret it when you see what war does to the people here."

When she first sees Yunaka, she almost isn't sure where to begin. She can't help and replay their conversations some moons ago. It's odd, she thinks— She's never been one to dwell. She still isn't. No matter. The first word isn't hers.

Removing the anchor charm off her bracelet, she places it in Yunaka's palm quietly. Edelgard doesn't react visibly to what she's told. There are no widened pupils nor agape mouth, only tightly lined lips. There is dancing to their left and idle chatter at the right. Music plays and humming burrows in the strums of instruments. It's a pleasant night, all encompassing of this very love for Adrestia her professor acknowledges. Is she to succeed in the footsteps of nobles before her, turning a blind eye for the sake of saving face and preserving momentary bliss? She can't. Won't.

"...."

She takes the turtle charm and gently holds it between her fingertips while gazing into it. There is as much beauty as there is turmoil and pain. With the right words, she knows even her professor would see what she does.

"— I march forward because of my love for Adrestia. I always will." Heightening her voice, her hands fall to her sides: "Have you seen the lanterns, Professor? I would only heed caution with what you wish for."

[jadeshifting]

❦ … LOCKBOX … OF … (WILDEST) … DREAMS

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

if u want the KEY, here it is —> 🗝₊˚⊹♡

.　　. 　 ˚　. ABOUT ME

— i’m JADE, a very typical and normal shifter with too many DRs, too many interests, and too many soulmates (none in this reality, ew.)

— i love books and movies and anything I can devour and integrate into my identity, which I do with all of them. born in ‘05, i’m 19, and pinterest, tumblr and letterboxd haaaate to see me coming. I write— sometimes a whole bunch of nothing, sometimes things I’m convinced belong in the bible, but I still do it like my fingers will fall off at anytime

.　　. 　 ˚　. ( pssst, my pinterest )

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖✶

i want a yellow diamond engagement ring .. a BIG one. i want a country house with a porch. i want a velvetine bunny rabbit with floppy ears. i want a stone house next to the sea. i want the whole sea.

and I can HAVE it, and so can you. isn’t shifting fun babes ౨ৎ

.　　. 　 ˚　. SHIFTING JOURNEY

it’s likely nothing you haven’t heard before. I found out about shifting when everyone else did (Hogwarts, which I’m sure you can tell stuck to me like tar) and lived with only misinformation for sustenance on shiftok for a loooong time (rip </3) until I had the sense to use amino, some reddit, and finally ended up on shiftblr

.　　. 　 ˚　. MI BLOG

i talk about all sorts of things on here !! like a one-stop shop for shifting & scripting—you may notice that i love to focus on scripting, though. in my ( humble ) ( NOT ) opinion, our community is oversaturated with advice that more often than not overcomplicates the very natural, automatic process that is shifting. rather that putting the simple process of shifting under a microscope, i find it much more fun to explore everything you can do with it. i take emoji anons and i’m happy to chat about pretty much anything !! you can refer to my inbox guidelines below or my “asks <3” tag for more specific examples of the kinds of questions i take

— inbox guidelines ( coming soon, PATIENCE )

— anons list

❦ … ALTERNATIVE … REALITIES

(not DESIRED, because I don’t desire things I already have or places I already go to)

.　　. 　 ˚　. HOGWARTS REALITY … school in the echoing, ever shifting stone walls of Hogwarts, excelling at forms of magic that are unknown to the rest of the world. holing up in dorms, lanterns’ glow illuminating ink-smudged fingers and invented incantations. returning to the manor in the summertime, when the fun really stars, when we twirl absurdly in silken gowns at gala after gala, kiss people our families wouldn’t approve of, take our liberties in between swaths of velvet and drenched in silvery champagne. in the end, though, it all comes down to one thing: power. the opulence, our loyalties, our endless magic. it all serves that one thing

— hogwarts masterlist

— shiftmas masterlist ( 4 hogwarts )

.　　. 　 ˚　. 2006 MYSPACE HOTTIE REALITY … thrust into fame from both my booming myspace blog and a face people can’t seem to do anything but affix their eyes on, my serious acting career does nothing to stop the diabolical antics i put on with my hot friends and my absolutely smoking boyfriend—in the public eye, sure, but mostly in the grainy hot pink sanctuary of my infamous myspace account. they can’t take their eyes off of me

— jare & i keep making headlines ( hot )

.　　. 　 ˚　. THE WALKING DEAD REALITY …

— intro

— 5 senses ( waking up there. )

— things i’m looking forward to

— what’s in my (apocalyptic survival) bag

— walking dead radio

— my DR self moodboard

— trapped with Negan

.　　. 　 ˚　. SUPERNATURAL REALITY

— intro

— hunter log 001

— lookbook

— things i’m looking forward to

— my life ( told through tarot )

— me as a perfume

— why would the winchesters let you join them? ( script inspiration )

— blueberry & sugar lemon perfume

.　　. 　 ˚　. EVER AFTER HIGH REALITY

— a guide to classes at ever after high

— lore blurb

— shoutout to my original s/o (nostalgia, apple ml)

— fairytale parent ideas

.　　. 　 ˚　. SMALLVILLE REALITY

— my dr basics ( pre-intro )

— my dr self moodboard ( Jade Apple LaRue )

.　　. 　 ˚　. NYC STAR REALITY

— musings ( things i’m looking forward to )

— yearning 4 my boyfriend when he’s away

.　　. 　 ˚　. BTS REALITY

— trendsetting

— the 4 seasons

.　　. 　 ˚　. JURASSIC WORLD REALITY

— my DR self moodboard

— a day in my life on Jurassic World

.　　. 　 ˚　. OUTER BANKS REALITY

— my DR self moodboard

— what’s in my bag?

— 5 senses ( waking up there. )

.　　. 　 ˚　. MUCH ADO ABOUT LOVE LETTERS REALITY

— DR blurb

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖✶

❦ … NAVIGATION

.　　. 　 ˚　. asks are always open and I luvvvv them, i’d be totally happy to write scenarios, blurbs, give shifting motivation or scripting ideas, or really anything else. don’t be shy & feel free to send whatever you want :-)

MUSINGS ( SOMEONE STOP HER. )

𓆩♡𓆪 — the spectral glamour girl

𓆩♡𓆪 — don’t feel guilty for your main character syndrome

𓆩♡𓆪 — there are plenty of fates worse than yours

𓆩♡𓆪 — traveling the multiverse vs traveling the world

𓆩♡𓆪 — why do we use face claims? ( on self expression vs. self acceptance )

𓆩♡𓆪 — “this is the best method” and why that doesn’t serve your shifting journey

SCRIPTING IDEAS

𓆩♡𓆪 — waiting room ideas

𓆩♡𓆪 — hogwarts elective classes to script

𓆩♡𓆪 — places to script (hogsmeade)

𓆩♡𓆪 — scripting your family ( i swear it can work even if they’re not dead )

𓆩♡𓆪 — enriching your life ( adding depth to the mundane in your DR )

𓆩♡𓆪 — the art of moodboarding ( & using it to script )

𓆩♡𓆪 — uniquely characterizing yourself ( small, important details )

𓆩♡𓆪 — luck ( aka the secret weapon to surviving the apocalypse without getting rid of the plot )

𓆩♡𓆪 — 100 scripting ideas . road trip edition

𓆩♡𓆪 — so, you wanna shift to the hunger games? ( no judgement, just ideas )

𓆩♡𓆪 — supernatural scenarios ( romance w/ Dean vers. )

𓆩♡𓆪 — grungy / haunting fem. faceclaims

ITTY BITTY SHIFTING CONTENTS

𓆩♡𓆪 — my favorite shifting experience

𓆩♡𓆪 — my “method”

𓆩♡𓆪 — struggling to escape an escapist mindset

𓆩♡𓆪 — drift & shift ( a teensy nighttime routine for the girlies that have a hard time chilling out )

𓆩♡𓆪 — some of my niche (?) DRs

𓆩♡𓆪 — what happens to my CR body when i shift?

𓆩♡𓆪 — combinations : my CR vs. my DR ( one drink, one eat )

𓆩♡𓆪 — would my DR selves get along if they were separate people? hmm

𓆩♡𓆪 — positive affirmations ( vers. holiday )

𓆩♡𓆪 — my girly engagement ring in the multiverse

FRUIT ASK GAME 🍒

— 🍒 the ask game

— 🍎 what i’m best at in my DRs

— 🥑 the most comforting part of my day in my DRs

— 🍅 secrets i’m keeping in my DRs

SLYTHERIN HEADCANONS

pansy parkinson headcanons

theodore nott headcanons

blaise zabini headcanons

blaise zabini headcanons no.2

lorenzo berkshire headcanons

draco malfoy headcanons

[thought-42]

Nate, Maggie and Sterling: actively engaging in psychological warfare as foreplay, cheerfully using each other as chew toys at every available opportunity

Sophie, a professional grifter and lifelong student of human behavior, already pulling out her notebook and microscope: 'yes I'll take them, no I don't need a receipt'