#BE IT A SHAPE OF THEIR BODY OR A SYMBOL OR A THING THAT COULD BE SIMILAR TO THEM | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

phantasmatoucan · 6 months ago

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Can I ask whoever designs the voices (I think owl) how they came up with there designs?

HEY MOD OWL HERE, I THINK ILL PUT THIS IN A READMORE BC ITS GONNA BE LONG

FOR ALL OF THEM I HAD WIDELY DIFFERENT IDEAS BUT FOR MOST I HAD SOMETHING SPECIFIC IN MIND BE IT A THING OR A SYMBOL

HERO: FOR HIM I HAD OFC A KNIGHT IN MIND I WAS GONNA GIVE HIM A FULL HELMET BUT I WANTED FOR HIS EXPRESSIONS TO BE SEEN SINCE HES A VERY EXPRESSIVE PERSON IN GENERAL, I MANTAINED HIS EYES UNSEEN THO SINCE HERO IS ALWAYS SOMEONE WHO WILL FOLLOW THE DECIDER BLINDLY AND ONLY AT THE END IS WHEN HES FINALLY ABLE TO REACH HIS FULL POTENTIAL [which is if i did a drawing of one of the ends, heros visor would be lifted up] ALSO HES THE MOST HUMAN LOOKING SINCE THE LONG QUIET PROBABLY HAS A VAGUE IDEA OF WHAT A HERO LOOKS LIKE BUT HE PROBABLY THOUGHT IT LOOKS SIMILAR TO THE PRINCESS

SMITTEN: HEARTS, THATS BASICALLY ALL I HAD IN MIND FOR HIM, I LOVE DESIGNING CHARACTERS WITH HEART MOTIFS SINCE ITS FUN TO MESS AROUND WITH THAT [keep it simple or making it a bit more goreish] I WANTED HIM TO BE ROUND AND FRIENDLY SHAPED, THE HAT CAME FROM OLD ROMEO AND JULIET CLOTHES THAT I SAW IN IMAGES AND THE CLOTHES ARE MORE FROM OLD TIMEY BARDS, I HAD THOUGHT OF MAKING HIM A PEACOCK AT FIRST BUT DECIDED I PREFFER HIM LOOKING MORE LIKE A PIDGEON SINCE THEYRE MORE ROUNDER AND ARE MORE COMMON BIRDS THAT PEOPLE SEE EVERYWHERE, THEY APPROACH HUMANS MUCH MORE EASILY AS WELL

SKEPTIC: I WANTED TO GIVE HIM LIKE A DETECTIVE SHERLOCK HOLMES KIND OF FEEL, BUT WHEN I HEARD HIM MORE HE FELT MORE LIKE A NOIR DETECTIVE THAN THAT SO THE FEELING FOR HIM CHANGED [also fun fact his clothes are based on inspector gadget lol] HIS WINGS POINT DOWNWARDS SINCE I WANTED HIS SILHOUETTE TO FEEL MORE HOURGLASSISH FOR HIM, THE OWL PART CAME FROM THE FACT THAT MOST OF THE OWLS IVE SEEN IN MEDIA ARE STUDIOUS CHRACTERS OR ATLEAST TRYING TO LEARN SOMETHING, IN GENERAL I FEEL THE VYBE OF OWLS ARE VERY CURIOUS CREATURES SO I GAVE IT TO SKEPTIC WHO IS THE MOST INQUISITIVE CHARACTER OF THEM ALL

COLD: HARDEST TO GET DOWN I HAD A GRIMM REAPER IN MIND, WITH HIS COLD PERSONALITY, I WANTED HIM TO BE ONE OF THE TALLEST ONE AS WELL FOR HIM TO BE A LITTLE SPINDLY LOOKING, HIS HAS A LONG CLOAK AND WANT HIM TO BE COMPLETLY COVERED IN CLOATHING SINCE HES VERY MUCH CLOSED HIMSELF SO HE CAN BE UNFEELING AND DON'T FEEL ANY PAINT, THE ONLY OTHER PARTS THAT ARE VISIBLE APART FROM HIS FACE IS HIS ARMS WHICH HAVE LONG PLUMAGES SO IT LOOKS LIKE SLEEVES, AND HIS HANDS ARE LONGER AND MORE HUMAN LOOKING AND COMPLETLY WHITE [hard to notice since i draw them all in black in white lol] SO IT LOOKS LIKE SKELETON HANDS

OPPORTUSNIST: SINCE WE HAD AN IDEA OF WHAT HIS FACE LOOKED LIKE I WANTED TO GIVE HIM A BIG BIG SMILE FIRST WITH HIS LONG BEAK, I ALSO WANTED HIS CLOTHES TO BE VER FORMAL [so i went to look for tumblr sexy man clothes lmao] WITH HIS SLEEVES UP, SO THAT HE LOOKS LIKE HE MEANS BUSSINESS, HIS TAIL IS LONG AND DRAGS BEHIND HIM TO LOOK LIKE A LONG OVERCOAT, HIS WINGS ARE ALSO BIG AS WELL [atleast bigger than most of the voices] SO THAT HE TAKES A BIT MORE SPACE IN THE ROOM, I WANTED FOR HIM TO BE SOFFOCATING AND INTOXICATING TO LOOK AT lol, HES ALSO VERY FLUFFY WHICH IS MORE NOTICIBLE ON HIS NECK, SO THAT HE APPEARS A BIT MORE HARMLESS [under his regular clothes hes very fluffy as well] TO ALURE A SENSE OF FRIENDLINESS THAT CONTRAST THE REST OF HIMSELF LMAO

HUNTED: HARE WITH BUNNY, LITERALLY MY FIRST THOUGHT WAS A BIT OF A LLONG HARE WITH BIRD LIKE FEATURES, I WAS DEBATING IF GIVING HIM A SNOUT OR A BEAK WAS A GOOD IDEA BUT I WENT WITH THE SNOUT SINCE IT MAKES HIM MORE DISTINCT TO THE OTHERS [he also has sharp teeth like stubborn but theyre mostly barely visible since he usually doesnt open his mouth too much unless threatend] THE BANDAGES COMES FROM THE FACT THAT I WANTED ALL OF THE VOICES TO HAVE SOME TYPE OF CLOATHING THAT DEFIND THEM, BUT SINCE HUNTED WOULD HAVE NO CLOTHES I WENT WITH SOMETHING LESS NOTICIBLE

CHEATED: DISHEVELED LOOKING BIRD I WAANTED FOR HIM TO LOOK LIKE HE JUST GOT OUT OF A CAR CRASH SO THATS WHY HE HAS A LOT OF BANDAGES, I THINK I MAY CHANGE THINGS ON HIM TO SINCE I WANTED FOR HIM TO HAVE A SCAR ON HIS NECK THAT WOULD BE VISIBLE [since thats a way to get to the razor route] BUT FOR NOW SINCE ONE OF THE VOICES WHO IS ALWAYS THE UNLUCKIEST I MADE HIM THE SHORTEST OFC AND WITH CUTTED WINGS, WHICH ARE LITERALLY USELESS, HIS CHEST ALSO HAS BANDAGES BUT ARE NOT VISIBLE BC OF HIS CLOTHING

BROKEN: PENGUIN MAN, I WANTED HER SHAPE TO BE SIMILAR TO THIS ∩ WHICH MADE ME THINK OF PENGUINS AND THATS HOW HE CAME OUT, HE HAS LONG DROOPY EAR FEATHERS THAT ARE TATHERED SINCE IT WAS HARD TO DEMONSTRATE FOR ME HOW UNKEMPT SHE IS, HIS LONG CLOACK COVERS MOST OF HIS BODY WITH A PENGUIN LIKE PATTERN ON IT, HIS EYES HAVE WRINKLES AND HE ALWAYS LOOKS SAD OR UPSET BY SOMETHING, I WANTED HIM TO OCCUPY LITTLE SPACE SO HE FEELS VERY COMPACT IN HIS OWN DESIGN PARANOID: WANTED TO MAKE HIM LOOK VERY JUMPY AND WORRIED, I HAD AN IDEA FOR HER TO HAVE SPIKIER PLUMAGE LIKE AN EXPLOSION [which is how the plumage of her face came to be] SINCE HE SEEMS TO ALWAYS SO NERVOUS AND READY TO SCREAM AT ANYTHING AGREVATING HIM, HER LONGER EAR FEATHERS CAME TO BE BC I WANTED THEM TO WIGGLE WHENEVER HE WAS CONCENTRATING TO KEEP US ALIVE, I WAS ACTUALLY GONNA GIVE HER A LONGER TAIL LIKE AN ACTUAL FANTAIL PIDGEON, BUT CONSIDERING HOW HE IS I MADE THEM VERY SHORT TO GVIE THE IDEA THAT SHE PLUCKED THEM HIMSELF, ALSO HIS WINGS BEING SO CLOSE TO HIS BACK FOR COMFORT, THE PONCHO CAME MUCH MUCH LATER BC I DIDNT ACTUALLY KNOW WHAT CLOTHES TO PUT ON HIM, I THINK I SAW A CHARACTER I LIKE WITH A PONCHO [cant remember which one] AND WAS LIKE maybe he can have a tattered poncho AND THATS HOW IT CAME TO BE

STUBBORN: DRAGON!!! I REALLY WANTED EYE OF THE NEEDLE TO BE A BIG DRAGON LADY WITH WINGS SCALES AND SUCH BUT WHEN I SAW HER NOT HAVING THOSE I WAS A BIT DISSAPOINTED SO I GAVE IT TO STUBBORN LMAO, HES IS ABOUT AS BIG AS THE LONG QUIET PROBABLY LARGER THO lol, THE MACAW PART CAME FROM THE WAY HIS FACE IS SHAPED, SPECIFICALLY THE BEAK, HIS LOWER TEETH ARE MORE NOTICIBLE THAN HER UPPER ROW, HE IS SCARED OFC FROM THE BATTLE YOU HAVE BEFORE GOING INTO THE ADVERSARY, HIS CLOTHES ARE BASED ON BEOWULD FROM SKULLGIRLS ACTUALLY I WANTED HIM TO HAVE SOMETHING LIKE ANIMAL PELTS AROUND HIS WAIST, SO I WENT WITH A FLUFFIER DRAPES AROUND HIS SKIRT, HIS WINGS ARE IN SIMILAR SHAPE OR THAT OF A DEMON MORE THAN A BIRD SO THAT THEY LOOKED MORE DRAGONISH

CONTRARIAN: JESTER BC I LOVE JESTER AND OFC JESTER CONTRARIAN PROPAGANDA TOOK OVER MY BRAIN, AS I SAID MOD TOUCAN IS THE ONE WHO SUGGESTED THE HUMMINBIRD PART OF HIS DESIGN SO HIS WINGS ARE LONGER AND TAIL IS AS WELL, HE IS THE ONLY ONE WHO I HAVE ACTUALLY COLORED AND THAT IS ON PURPOSE SINCE NONE OF THE OTHER VOICES HAVE COLORS, HE ALSO DOESNT HAVE A SET COLOR PALLETE SINCE HE CAN BE WHICHEVER COLOR HE PREFFERS AT THE MOMENT, HE ALSO DOESNT HAVE DIGITRADE LIKE FEET SINCE I WANTED SOME SIMILARITIES OF HIM AND HERO, HE STILL HAS BIRD FEET THO THAT WILL NOT GO AWAY lol, HIS BEAK IS POINTED UPWARDS AND HIS MOUTH IS NOT REALLY A REAL THING, ITS MORE A ABSTRACT LINE

#ask #owltalk #stp #stp voices #WOW THIS GOT LONG MY BAD #BUT YEA TO MAKE THEM I JUST HAD LIKE A BASIC IDEA OF SOMETHING THAT COULD MAKE THEM STAND OUT #BE IT A SHAPE OF THEIR BODY OR A SYMBOL OR A THING THAT COULD BE SIMILAR TO THEM #AND THEN ADDED MORE TO THAT AND RAN WITH IT #THANK U FOR ASKING THO!

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ancientpersacom · 1 year ago

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“They made them a conveniently attractive twink omg ruined design yap yap”

FOOLS. ABSOLUTE DINGBATS YOU ALL ARE. CAN YOU NOT SEE ALL THE SYMBOLISM????

I will defend this design to the ends of the earth. Yes they’re hot, that’s merely a bonus.

1) that’s not a shirt that’s a fucking Galaxy under that suit. Mf has no body, just a vaguely body shaped void. Meaning floating head and hands that aren’t attached to anything. You take those clothes off and it’s the fucking void. They’re non binary AND sexless. Beyond any physical body, just shaped like it for fun.

2) the old bodies head dead in their hands and simultaneously birthing a foetus. That’s the circle of life, a rebirth, a metamorphosis. Chaos is above a god, they’re primordial. They don’t have a permanent appearance or identity. They’re ever changing. They look like this now, but if there were another game, they’d change again. They’re always changing, killing their old self and reshaping it. The wings have also moved and grown from the head to the back. Chaos expands indefinitely, bigger and unable to be contained in any way. They don’t even need wings, they can float. But they decided to have them anyway, just because. Because they can.

3) this is Ancient Greece. Suits don’t exist yet. Chaos took clothing from thousands of years in the future. They’re beyond time itself, they’re not effected by Chronos in any way. They’re in their own realm outside of time an space, they know things from the past, present and future.

4) the hair being the same colour as and long like many of their grandchildren, family resemblance there. Almost like they’re,,, missing them. Despite being this omnipresent being beyond human emotion, they still care in their own way. Copying them to feel some form of deeper connection.

5) the earth is an earring now. That’s how inconsequential it is to a being like chaos. It’s just there, an accessory, nothing special.

I could go on. Maybe I’m reading too deep into it but given the fact all the designs in the first and second games tend to have symbolism in them based on the myths the gods come from and what they represent, I don’t think I’m too insane for seeing symbolism here.

#hades 2 #hades ii #hades spoilers #hades 2 spoilers #hades ii spoilers #hades game #supergiant hades #hades chaos #chaos hades game #chaos hades

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thbbie · 1 month ago

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༄ roommate! suguru x f!reader.

suguru prefers savoury flavours over sweet ones.

that's just his preference, no deeper meaning or symbolism behind it.

and he always eats so slow. chewing carefully, mindful of every flavour and ingredient that hits his tongue. sometimes it's frustrating to match his pace, you'll never catch him scarfing his food down, never sloppy.

he enjoys it — every bite of his every meal.

suguru's likes sharing a plate with you, to save on washing extra dishes he says. sitting side by side eating together from one dish, the same dish. it's more intimate than either of you would ever admit.

you get to see him up close in those, not that it's a rarity (early morning together in your bed with his face still softened smelt sleep will always be dear to you) still though those moments are precious. the slow movement of his mouth, the way his lips look as he chews, his jaw and the skin covering the it. his hair framing his face so prettily. he's just so pretty. so refined and elegant in all his actions.

sometimes you'll ask if he ever craves something sweet, golden eyes will flit up to catch your own, that teasing customer service smile with an edge at his lips as he replies, "nope" popping the p at the end sassily "i have you after all" accompanied by a charming wink and too smug smile.

so when you come home to suguru in the kitchen with a pretty apron wrapped around his waist and all he says to you is "welcome home, you're just in time"

"just in time for what?"

just in time for what. the last coherent words you managed. splayed out on the dining table, his hands digging into the flesh of your thighs keeping them apart as he eats. sloppy and messy and eager. it's nothing like what you're used to seeing with him. not refined or composed at all, still though, suguru is painfully pretty.

you could swear this is a different man, only it's not. the silk like feel of the long inky tresses you tug on so unmistakably suguru. that velvet like voice groaning against you, this is suguru too. a hungry, insatiable side of him.

his tongue licks from the bottom of your slit till your clit in a single broad swipe. once, twice, thrice, before refocusing on your clit. lapping at it desperately. suguru circles on the little nub with his tongue, massaging little shapes onto the sensitive nerves.

you're so close. he alternates between ssucking at your swollen clit and tongue fucking you good, the muscle in his mouth moving on you fast. so.. close .

calling out for him, rigging him closer with both fists full of dark hair, you're so close. the pleasure building quickly and just as you are to come undone he pulls away — leaving you hot and needy.

suguru simply walks off. wordlessly. still clad in that apron, the lowers half of his face still slicked in you.

he pulls out a bowl out of the fridge and grabs a spoon before making his way back to a frustrated, annoyed you. cute pout on you lips and your eyebrows pulled tight in a glare but suguru isn't fazed in the slightest. pleasant smile at his lips, only humming softly in response to your sudden attitude.

given the grace and slow of his movements of him returning, one would think he's never been desperate for a thing. in his life.

you might've believed it had it not been for what you've seen, if not for the tent in his pants you see through the apron, if not for the starved look in his eyes, if not for that morning in your now shared bed.

he's so cool about all this. that's the front he's putting on at least. sitting back in the chair right in front of your body. his hands on your knees spreading your legs once again.

you watch him dip the spoon into the fluffy white content of the bowl, wiping the soft cool texture on your hip, bringing his face down to lick it off.

"suguru, what are you doing? what is th-"

a spoonful of soft fluffy cream fills your mouth cutting you off. it's good, a perfect sweetness balanced with a flavour of lemon that cuts through it. he made it. whisked at the fresh cream by hand until it turned full and fluffy. the apron makes more sense now.

standing over you, his bangs fall out from behind his ear, "m' just returning the favour roomie"

he spreads more on you. your neck and your collarbones. the dip of your breasts and the gardens peak of your nipples. he chases it with his tongue each time. the light coolness of the whipped cream followed by the feeling of his warm wet tongue on your skin.

he makes his way down, lower and lower until he's back between your legs, face to face with your twitching glistening folds. still dripping, still needy. still untouched from when he got you right on the edge just to pull away.

"so wet"

he spreads some of the whipped cream onto the hood your clit, the coolness on your heated cunt making you flinch away, though you can't get far with how suguru is holding your hips against the wooden table.

he licks it off, the cream and your wetness in a single swipe of his tongue, moaning out at the flavour — thin dark brows pinched together and his eyes closed in ecstasy. suguru doesn't get enough credit for the drama he brings to the table you think.

he dives back in suckling at you like a man starved and suddenly you can't think. mirroring his expression, brows pinched together and eyes closed in ecstasy. pretty moans spill from your lips, nails clawing at the wood of the table needing something to grip.

without so much as pulling away, his eyes trace over the lines of your face, guiding your hands to his hair. he breaks for a moment to breathe, in a low breathless voice,'issuing the command "tug" and you do.

the bridge of his nose rubbing against your folds as his tongue works like magic on your entrance. clamping your thighs around his head to keep him there, you grind your hips up into his face and oh he thinks he's in heaven.

whatever they have to offer up there will surely pale in comparison otherwise. here. clamped between you mr thighs with your hands tugging at his inky hair and your moans filling his ears, suguru will die a happy man. the happiest.

he lets you take the reins, his hands holding you by the waist as you grind up into his face, licking and sucking away at your crying entrance.

your high comes at you suddenly, pulsing through your body as your release washes over you — rendering you a twitching mess.

"sugur- shit. hah- that's enough, we're even. we're even!"

"yea? have i retuned to you the favour in full?"

you nod eagerly, fully unsure if you could even handle any more of him 'returning the favour' he's always been so generous.

suguru looks so pensive sitting their, leaning back into the chair with his thick arms crossed over his chest as if debating an essential question of philosophy or politics with a tongue filled of your flavour and chin shiny, coated in the excess of your mess.

"i'm not so sure about that roomie. we've still got tons more left." referring to the bowl still nearly filled with whipped cream. "it'd be a shame to let it all go to waste, wouldn't it? after i worked so hard to make it just for you"

the favour in question

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mechanical-sunchild · 3 months ago

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Theriform [Official Coining Post]

Theriform

Adjective (can be applied as a noun in certain phrasing, see examples)

From θηρίον (thēríon) [diminutive of θήρ thḗr, “wild beast”] and μορφή (morphe) ["shape"/"figure"/"look"].

Definition:

A theriform animal is one which was born into a body that is typical/expected of it's species and observable as such by everyone, with species-typical levels of sapience/intelligence and whose behaviour etc is unaltered by being born into a human body/raised in a form perceived as human*. All components must be present to count.

It is not the 'opposite' of therian despite similar etymology but is instead to be viewed as a complimentary term to therian, nonhuman, alterhuman, otherkin etc as it exists to specify certain details of a species whilst not invalidating the identities of those who are not theriform. It is made to replace potentially invalidating phrases like 'bio(logical) animal' or 'real animal'.

It is not an identity label and therefore has no flag or symbol and does not need one. Do not create these things please, or use the term to describe yourself on a personal level.

Alternative versions for non-animals could include: floraform, nat(ur)form, technoform, fictoform*, feyform, voidform, starform, divineform etc

Examples:

"Lol it's so funny being a cat and having a theriform cat as a pet we're both just kitties vibing but with different body shapes."

"Just because they're the same species as you does not mean you are able to take care of wild theriforms."

"The fact that there aren't that many theriforms of my species is so saddening."

"I wanna do quads alongside a pack of theriform wolves so bad!"

"I am transspecies, here is what I do/what I want to do to look more theriform."

"I wonder if theriforms get species dysphoria?"

*in the case of fictional humans, should you want to apply it there, assume this to mean 'in this world' as in the fictoform has not been a physical human in this world and thus had their behaviour influenced by existing here.

#theriform #theriform coining post #alterhuman #nonhuman #therian #otherkin #otherkind

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mountainsandmayhem · 5 months ago

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BDSMaid - Epilogue

AN: You can blame Mexico and Onyx Storm for my delay on this one. But for those who are curious, here is our sweet little epilogue for Joel and Freckles. Thank you so much to everyone who read, commented, shared, and encouraged me while writing this story. I love you, and so does Joel and Freckles. XO

Series Masterlist | My Masterlist

Five Years Later

“You wanna come,” he practically taunts, “Don’t you, sweet girl?”

Every muscle in your body is weak, causing the leather cuffs of the St. Andrews Cross to rub at your wrists and ankles. He’s been teasing you for hours, stopping every time you’re about to shatter.

This night has been a long while in the making. After five years with your firm you were finally given the lead on a big case; a case that your boss handed to you and said this was your chance to earn your partnership. You spent upwards of eighty to ninety hours a week preparing and Joel could not have been more perfect during that time. He’d often show up with food or coffee for you and your team of junior lawyers, interns, and paralegals. He never complained when you’d bring work home; however, every time you said something negative about yourself, Joel would mark it on the fridge. Over the three and a half weeks of prep work thirty ticks ended up on the small piece of paper that was hung with a Berkeley magnet. You didn’t have time to ask Joel what they meant, and truthfully, you didn’t really care; you trusted that whatever he planned to do with those ticks was for your own good.

During the trial, another twelve ticks were added. When the verdict was announced and you had won your case, Joel was there in the courtroom, smiling warmly at you when you glanced back at him. When you got home that evening, after a celebratory round or two of cocktails, Joel made you kneel in front of him as he explained that each tick, all forty two of them, symbolized a denied orgasm, a punishment meant to remind you not to talk bad about things that Joel owns. Especially brilliant lawyers who win their first big case and secure themselves as partner.

As he strapped you to the padded X shaped piece of furniture tonight, he said, ‘if you’re the sweet girl I know you to be, then you won’t whine when I stop. Instead, you’ll say “Thank you, Mister Miller” and I’ll count that as two. Forty two orgasms being denied is not going to be easy, so do yourself a favour and don’t whine; you don’t want to know what happens if you do.’

The only response to his teasing that you can muster now is a whimper and a nod. He clicks his tongue in disappointment. “Use your words, honey.”

Your voice is almost silent. “Yes, Mister Miller.”

He walks behind you, trailing the small vibrator along your skin. “Such a good girl for me tonight. Saying yes to everything. Remind me, how many orgasms have I denied you so far?”

Your pussy throbs with the deep timber of his voice, this is truly torture and your safeword is on the tip of your tongue. “Twenty one,” you mumble.

“Poor, sweet girl,” He says from behind you, leaning in closely to whisper in your ear. “Did you learn your lesson?”

“Yes, Mister Miller.” You swallow the dry lump in your throat.

“Should I let you pick how you want to come?”

He completes his circle around you and the crossing, stepping in close to you. He uses the little vibrator to gently tease your nipples. You can barely form a thought and just let a small ‘yes’ mixed with moans leave your lips as your sweat covered back arches off the padded back of the cross. The heat of Joel’s body this close makes you feel like you’re on fire.

“Want to come on my fingers?” He asks, then easily slips three of them inside of you. Your gaze shoots to his as a strangled cry fills the room.

“Yesyes - fuuuuck, please.” You feel your pussy tightening around his digits.

“What about my cock? You love being stuffed full of my thick cock while I strum your clit. Don’t you? My perfect little slut.” He teases you further by pumping his fingers forward once, revelling in the feel of you clenching tighter around him. He doesn’t give you a chance to respond as he continues.

“No, I know,” his fingers slip out from your pussy and you gasp, unable to protest in your weakened state. Not that you would protest; you know better than to do that, and he told you not to whine tonight. You are a good girl, you know that what your dom says is best. Plus, you need to come so badly that you think you might actually die if you don’t, and Joel is just sadistic enough to keep you like this for days.

He gets onto his knees, his warm breath hitting your cunt as he speaks. “What if I put my lips around this swollen little clit? Huh? Suck her into my mouth and drink up every ounce of your cum?”

He uses his thumbs to pull the lips of your pussy further apart. He’s so close that your breath catches in your throat at the promise of relief. He blows cool air along your soaked pussy; you clench your molars together and focus on your breathing. You don’t come until he tells you.

“Would you like that, my sweet girl?”

The restraints cut at your wrists when you try to push your hips to his mouth. “Yes. Yes. Please, Mister Miller.”

He stands abruptly, hand wrapping around the hair at the nape of your neck before he tugs to bring your gaze up to his. The pull of your hair relaxes the muscles of your neck and upper back and you melt into the padded cross.

His eyes darken as he asks, “You really would say yes to anything, wouldn’t you?”

“Y-yes. I just need to come. Please.” He releases your hair, stepping back and crossing his arms. The veins on his forearms pop, the sleeves of his rolled black dress shirt tightening under his biceps. Since officially retiring, he’s had a strict exercise regime. He was sexy when you met him almost ten years ago, but like a fine wine, he gets better with each passing year.

The gravel in his voice returns, “But you’d say yes even if I told you we were done for the night and it was time to get dressed. Right?”

Your eyes clench close, head falling back as the panic of not getting to come tonight races through your mind. You take a calming breath before whispering, “Yes, Mister Miller.”

“Eyes on me, sweet girl.” You peel your eyes open and tilt your chin down to look at him. His hands are now buried in his pockets, and there’s a shift in how he’s looking at you, a slight softness to his dark eyes.

“And what if I asked you to marry me?” His voice is shy and raspy.

He slowly pulls a ring out of his pocket and holds it up for you. A thin, gold band with a single, albeit very large, solitaire diamond on it sends sparkles all around the room. Tears line your lash line, mirroring his. He clears his throat softly.

“Here’s what we’re going to do, sweet girl. Listen carefully for me,” he pockets the ring and steps closely, wiping the happy tear that rolls down your cheek. The rough whorls on his thumb send goosebumps cascading down your body. “First, I’m going to make you come. Then, I’m going to untie you, get you all cleaned up, and get some sugar into you.”

You nod, leaning into his touch as cups your face. His eyes dart towards the bed as he says, “After that, we are getting to that bed so I can kiss you until neither of us can breathe.”

“And then,” he smiles sweetly, a tear rolling from the corner of his deep brown and honey flecked eye to his greying beard. “And then I’m going to ask you to marry me.”

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woozisprincess · 19 days ago

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How each svt member would react to getting those magnetic couples bracelets

Really adorable, much fluff, a lil spice during Soonyoung's, fem reader, no she/her pronouns used but in Vernon's part reader is referred to as "his girl" and in Hao's part as well.

Saw these on TikTok and thought it was adorable.

Seungcheol

His idea. This man is possessive we know this. During a romantic dinner he pulls out the box and hands it to you. You think it's such a pretty bracelet, and it's clearly expensive. When you go to thank him, he interlocks your finger with his own, and the charm on his suspiciously similar bracelet locks to yours. How cute.

Jeonghan

Also his idea, and when you looked at him a lil odd he asked why you didn't love him. 100% guilt tripped you no questions asked. It wasn't even necessary, he just wanted to. You rolled your eyes at his dramatics, reluctantly agreeing to his obvious schemes. You do love the bracelets, you just don't know why he has to be so extra about it.

Joshua

Loves em. Thinks it is the cutest thing in the world, and loves that you always wanna be connected to him in some way. He already finds you so adorable, he really didn't think that you could get any cuter. He's always been such a big fan of hand holding so you can imagine that this only spurred him on.

Jun

Thinks it's sooooo cute. The idea of couples bracelets with a magnetic charm is so fun to him. He thinks whoever came up with them is a genius. Who wouldn't want to always be connected to the love of their life? He just adores how the magnets immediately attract one another when you two are close.

Hoshi

Oh my god he's obsessed. Sits close just to feel the magnet tug on his wrist, and loves knowing that you can feel it too. Now something other than the strength of his passion for you is physically pulling you together.

Absolutely holds your hand when you make love so he can feel them connect.

Wonwoo

Doesn't understand it but as long as you're happy. Like it's cute but it's literally just a bracelet. A bracelet with a magnetic charm. Why is it so important? But hey, you love them, and you're happy, so he's not gonna complain.

Woozi

Watched in silence as you wordlessly opened the box, grabbed his wrist, and linked each end of the bracelet around his arm. Is gonna say something about how you know he's terrible about wearing jewelry, but instead let out a small gasp when you lift your arm next to his and the half heart shaped charm on your matching bracelet immediately attaches to his. Acts nonchalant. He's never taking it off like ever. You'd have to saw his wrist off of his body.

Dokyeom

Obsessed. The thought of being constantly attached to you pleases him way too much. They were 1000% his idea. Being attached to his sweet baby? The love of his life? You have to remind him that they're just bracelets with magnets. He looks at you betrayed. "They are not just bracelets! They are symbols of our love!" You give him lots of kisses as an apology.

Mingyu

He's blushing like a fool. A complete mess. Tries to be cocky. "You can't bear to be away from me can you?" He's basically on the floor having a heart attack. This is exactly why you bought them. You think he's fucking adorable.

Minghao

"are these handcuffs?" Thinks it's weird. Why are you trying to physically attach yourself to him? Girl I need my space. You look at him all sad and he folds like a lawn chair. "It's fine it's just a bracelet I don't care I'll wear it if you want." Can't help the way his serotonin skyrockets at the pure joy that overtakes you when the magnets connect.

Seungkwan

Teases you relentlessly about how attached to him you are. Is crying on the inside bc you love him. Loves the bracelets tho. He loves matching couples stuff so this only spurs him on to buy more things like it. Now you have matching shoes, matching necklaces, matching earrings, matching hats, etc. you have to tell him to cool it because you're running out of space in your closet and drawers. He buys you another wardrobe.

Vernon

Bought them after you mentioned them. Vernon doesn't know a lot outside of movie trivia, but he sure as hell knows when his girl is hinting for him to buy something. He thinks they're cute but not a big deal at all. Lost it after a week. You're a little sad about it so he ends up buying another set

Dino

Bought them. Basically cried to get you to agree. Not that you didn't want them, you just thought that he was way too serious about them. Loves holding your hand so they connect while you're walking together. He will cry if he sees you not wearing it. Please don't make him cry.

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cliosunshine · 7 months ago

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Thinking about wearing promise rings with Jason...

Warning: NSFW at the end

you got the idea of buying matching promise rings after scrolling too far on Pinterest on a lazy day and seeing a post with a couple wearing puzzle pieces promise rings

you fell in love with the idea and knowing your first year anniversary with Jason was coming up, you wanted to surprise him

now, getting his ring size wasn't the easiest task as he was always on alert, even when asleep. you had to trick him with a silly string game to finally get it

hiding your excitement was even worse

he could read right through you, but chose not to comment on the way you looked at his hands with a goofy smile on your face and sighed to yourself before returning to your current task

the date eventually came and you were an anxious wreck

you started to second guess every decision you had made

was the ring too much? maybe he would think that the heart shape was too childish. maybe he didn't like wearing rings-

you hadn't even gotten that physical yet, deciding to take things slow as relationships in general were something fairly new for the both of you

what if you were overstepping and he saw the ring as an oppressive symbol of ownership and forced commitment instead of a declaration of love and loyalty?

but his reaction to it couldn't have surprised you more

you had spent a wonderful day with Jason, going to a museum exhibition you had been keeping your eyes on for weeks and then having a picnic in Gotham Park, basking all the sunlight you could get even on a winter day. the two of you drank hot chocolate and held hands like two teenagers in love.

you lived for these days, where you could admire Jason being so carefree and appreciate the small things in life.

you may or may not have taken a dozen candid photos of him.

jason had been all smiles throughout the whole day, so after eating the dinner you had cooked together in your apartment, silence settling for the first time that day between the two of you, you got nervous real quick.

"you alright, sweetheart?"

his gaze was on you the whole time. you were cuddled up next to one another on the couch, a thick sherpa blanket over your bodies. you didn't look away from the tv, the show playing wasn't that good but you couldn't dare to look at him, suddenly shy.

"mh mh, everything's ok honeybun"

he chuckled at the pet name but didn't relent, tilting your chin with two of his fingers so that you would meet his gaze.

physical touch was something fairly new between the two of you. although you had been dating for a year now, you respected Jason's boundaries that he had set up right at the beginning, and both of you were taking small steps to slowly overcome them. so far, you had managed to make him feel at ease with holding hands, hugging him, and cuddling. he was still coming to terms with the fact that you actually wanted him to touch you and wanted him in your space.

this week you got close to kissing, but you were quick to reassure him when he freaked out, apologising for not being ready.

you were there for him, and you wanted to show him.

so him initiating physical touch? oh yeah, that was a big step, alright.

you released a shaky breath, looking away, "I really want to give you something, love"

Jason loosened the grip he had on your chin and rested his hand on his lap, a faint blush covering the top of his ears and cheeks. he looked so pretty with the warm lamp light casting golden hues on his flustered face.

"Oh, yeah?" you nodded, taking his hand in yours and running your thumb over his slightly bruised knuckles.

you got up, going to your room to retrieve the small velvet box you had meticulously picked in the jewellery shop in Gotham Heights.

you returned and sat on the couch, pulling both of your knees to your chest, holding the box in between your legs and your torso for dear life.

"I've been thinking about us, Jay, and I love how much progress we've made in our relationship in just one year," your eyes were going teary as you smiled at him. Jason could only look at you as you paused, gears clearly turning in his head.

"I want to be there for you. I want to know more of you as our relationship progresses. Before even starting dating, we'd been friends for a good couple of years and I've been grateful that you allowed me to come into your life and let me have a look at your soul, slowly trusting me to get closer and closer to you. This- this gift I have for you- I don't want you to see it for something that it wasn't meant to be in the first place. This gift to you is a promise that I'm making you. It's a promise that I'll be by your side because I want to, and it is in no way, shape, or form a way to hold you down or force you to some form of bond you're not ready for yet. I love you, Jason, and I hope you will love this gift, too"

With tears running down your cheeks, you pried the small bow open and presented the two silver rings in the inside.

Jason was holding onto your left hand the entire time, looking at you with wide eyes and suddenly feeling like his heart was caught up in his throat.

he lowered his haze onto the rings and subconsciously squeezed your hand tighter.

there were two rings in the box. one of them was daintier than the other and had a plain heart in the middle of it, while the other one was thicker in width and had the same heart, this time cut out so it would accodomate the first ring.

jason held back tears as he looked at you.

"these are for us?"

you nodded with a laugh, wiping the remaining tears on your face. you were amused at the starstruck look on his face. all he could do was look between you and the rings and squeeze your hands.

"do you like them? I was worried the heart shape would have been too childish...if they are it's ok I can go change them for another pair of rings. or if you don't like wearing rings at all it's ok, I'm sorry I should have really asked you about it, I know it's a lot-"

the feeling of Jason's chapped lips on yours shut you up. with wide eyes, you tried to understand what was going on before shutting them tightly and melting against his lips, pulling him closer. it only lasted a couple of seconds, but as you pulled away, you felt as if all of your breath had been sucked out of your lungs. he had soft lips, and the thought of what just happened made your head spin.

jason, too, seemed to be in a haze if his blushing face was anything to go by. he rested his forehead against yours, pulling in closer, "I love them."

you were so flustered you couldn't speak. instead, with a very wide smile and a lovestruck expression on your face, you picked up his ring, prompting him to do the same with yours.

you started to read the engraving inside of it - better yet, you were reciting it while looking at him.

"You are my heart, my life,-"

jason was quick to catch on, completing the quote.

"-my one and only thought."

now both of you were sporting goofy grins as you leaned in and exchanged a chaste kiss.

Jason looked at the engraving, smiling to himself, "Conan Doyle, uh?"

you chuckled as you curled up at his side, resting your head on his shoulder, "mh mh. It was the first book you had recommended me after I declared my undying hatred for historical adventures,"

he kissed the top of your head, pulling you even closer than imaginable, "you wanna do the honours?"

you gingerly held your (his) ring up and took his left hand, sliding it on his ring finger and then kissing it.

he did the same, this time holding eye contact with you as he kissed the ring and you swore you heard fireworks explode in your head at how in love you were with him that moment.

from that day on, neither of you took your rings off

the only time it wasn't on Jason's finger was when he went on patrol, opting to wear it by hanging it on the silver chain he always had around his neck

it also had become an habit of his to kiss you and then kiss the ring on his hand before heading out on patrol, symbolising a promise of coming back to you by the end of the night

he also started fidgeting with it during stakeouts and when he felt anxious, realising that it brought him an immense sense of calm by having a reminder of you and your love on him

but when he wasn't on patrol he would always, and i mean always wear it on his finger

he was honestly more excited than you were to show it off to everybody

Dick was low-key jealous to not have had something like that with Kory

what jason loved the most tho was when you'd put your heart through his

the first time that you did it was when the two of you were splayed out on the couch, enjoying a slow Sunday morning in blissed silence

he was reading a book and slowly felt you tugging his left hand towards you

he let you at first, without looking at what you were doing, but then when he heard you giggle to yourself, he promptly turned his head

and he thanked every God in existence for that because as he did, he caught you piecing the two hearts together, giggling as you two were now ring finger to ring finger

He felt so ashamed after you left, his ears and throat flushed pink as he jerked off to the image of the rings fitting perfectly together.

Jason chanted your name in a breathy whisper as he stroked his cock with his left hand, moaning shamelessly as the ring glinted under the low lights of his apartment and imagining it was your hand and your ring touching him while whispeing sweet nothings in his ears. The mental image was enough to send him over the edge and make him cum all over his hand, coating the ring in the process.

Jason whined as he threw his head back, his whole body trembling.

he thought about what it would look like when you two will be ready to have sex for the first time.

he thought about intertwining your hands together as he slid into you for the very first time and what faces you'd make, what pretty sounds he could manage to pull out of you.

he thought about seeing your ringed hand making its way across his body, and then his mind went foggy as he pictured his own hand wrapping around your throat, his ring resting against your skin creating such a beautiful contrast between the lovely heart shape and the downright nasty things he wanted to do to you.

safe to day, he wanted to see the rings slotting together more often

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd headcanons #jason todd x you #jason todd imagine #jason todd x y/n #jason todd smut

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callingofstars · 6 days ago

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the idea of Amphoreus being Phainon’s creation, humanity acting as a reflection of himself that he’s doomed to carry, is hitting esp hard after the special program.

the way he views each of the chrysos heirs as more important, more divine, than himself is so. but specifically how he thinks of Mydei - as many people have pointed out, in Phainon’s eyes he is the perfect warrior.

i’ve noticed so.many.parallels between Phainon’s new form and Mydei, and they strike me as a product of Phainon’s admiration for him. he’s been repeating the phrase “if only Mydei were here”, never missing a beat to talk about how amazing Mydei’s divine body is (phainon i know what you are)

Phainon was willing to claim the throne of Kremnos even though he knew he wasn’t meant for it, because it was a part of Mydei that he could carry for him. it was clear that strife would reject him, but he put his life on the line because Mydei trusted him to do so.

his transformation, though symbolizing many things, reflects that he’s achieved his ideals of a perfect warrior and reached divinity. the memory of Mydei was important enough to him that it lives within him, he embodies it.

a few scenes in Mydei’s trailer remind me of the worldbearer, such as where he hoists a boulder on his back and the golden blood dripping through his fingers. though not the same, the landscape in Phainon’s ultimate does vaguely resemble Mydei’s trial of strife.

if you think about it, Amphoreus itself was like Phainon’s trial. that’s why the strife domain showed him Okhema - coreflame trials appear completely different based on who is undergoing them, they are shaped by their beholder.

Phainon’s greatest fear (shown in the strife trial) being Okhema’s fall, the loss of everyone important to him and the feeling that it’s his fault - or he could’ve done more. once he experiences this and learns to overcome that fear is when he gains divinity. sort of like what’s happening now

phaidei soulmating so hard that the symbols of their strength as warriors are intwined as strife and worldbearing become reflections of each other

#head in hands .they make me sick #“if he’s your man why is he my cinematic parallel”#phaidei #myphai #phydei #mydeimos #phainon hsr #honkai star rail #mydei honkai star rail #phainon x mydei #hsr 3.4

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yakutarts · 8 months ago

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Nightmare and Dream but feral, non-skeletal body!

For the love of god PLEASE click on the image for better quality + close ups and clothed version under the cut!!

Would you kiss them?

Video process:

I made these using a specific context

A while ages ago I drew and posted a drawing of Nightmare and Dream on their light ball form but with some alterations/personal headcanons.

On the post, I expressed my desire to draw the twins in a universe were Nim didn’t need to give them bodies, and just let them grow naturally. And specifically give them an animalistic appearance, instead of a humanoid one like most artist do.

You can see on the process video that it took me 1000 sketches to make something that looked good and I was happy with, the video is obviously sped up, the total time it took me to make this was 28 hours and 15 minutes.

Now explaining some things:

Why are they so big?

I read on a post made by Joku that Nim, before giving them skeleton bodies, tried to make them human ones, but the pure amount of magic and power the twins had made the human bodies explode or some shit. So she picked skeletons since the magic could flow freely through the bones without being confined by muscle and flesh. That made me think if their power had physical forms, it would be gigantic. So I gave them gigantic forms to better represent their status of strength and power, beings made from raw magic to serve as guardians of all emotions throughout the multiverse, of course I needed to make them big and intimidating!

Why the horns?

Artistic design choice, I gave them little horns and a chubby tail in their light ball form to purposefully make them more animalistic, wanted to keep it while making these. Also just giving them a smooth head with nothing much going on looked weird and boring.

Why the draconian look?

Dragons had been created and depicted as symbols of pure power above humanity and worshipped as deities throughout several cultures around the world, different depictions of dragons has been one of the only things present among almost all cultures, like a default folklore creature. While I tried to incorporate other mythical creatures in the design, the draconic body plan felt more right due to the influence of dragons on human beliefs, and their representation as magical and powerful beings beyond human comprehension. Plus I just really love drawing dragons.

Why the clothing choice? Also why is Dream half naked while Nightmare has everything covered?

While designing the clothes for Nightmare, I used as reference clothing that usually royalty would wear, Nightmare has a really big ego and sees himself as a king, so he uses fancy, expensive clothing and jewelry, adapted and designed for his anatomy. Not practical for battle, but his corruption can go through the fabric without damaging it, and most people and monsters just run when they see him, so he doesn’t worry about it getting dirty or tearing, Nightmare just expects every soul to instantly submit when they see him, so he never worries about getting into a battle and getting dirty he has that big of an ego.

Dream is the opposite, his style of clothing much more practical for running, jumping, flying, fighting and general exercise. He has 4 bags in total, 2 on each side, inside them he keeps several items, be it healing food, magical artifacts, first aid kit, gifts he receives, stuff he buys or random things he finds and wants to take home with him. Dream’s crown is now a colar couldn’t figure out how to make it work with the head shape and horns, his cape is from his official design, but changed to white, was planning to make it yellow but when I looked at it my eyes hurt because there was too much yellow everywhere. I made Dream’s clothes with the intent to match his official design, I didn’t to the same for nightmare because a turtle neck with a hoodie on a dragon would make him more huggable than intimidating. Plus I like to think that the leg warmers was a gift from Blue, and the ring on his horn a gift from Ink. Didn’t add more stuff on him because I couldn’t think of something that would look good and match Dream’s vibe, the rest of his clothes on his official design didn’t translate well here. Oh, while I was drawing this, I drew the colar and the leg warmers first, without the cape, Dream looked like a twink with a pet play kink.

Side note; neither Nightmare or Dream see the use of clothes as a necessity or as decency. For them clothes are nothing but pure decoration and to show off status for Nightmare, they can wear full body suits, partial clothing, just jewelry, or nothing at all, which is what they usually go for when at home, wearing or not wearing stuff doesn’t make that much of a difference to them at all.

Do they act as animals or do they have human intelligence?

Despite me using the word “feral” all the time to describe them, they do not actually act as animals. I’m only using “feral” to describe their body/anatomy, Nightmare and Dream are fully sentient and have human level intelligence/awareness. They are capable of speech and have opposable thumbs on their front paws, they can grab, write, hold… do anything a human can do with their hands with dexterity. But they do have to use only hand one at a time, and balance themselves with the other. To use both hands, they have to be sitting, or be supported by something, they can balance themselves on their wings if they have to.

And now contradicting what I just said, they have some animalistic behaviors. The twins can growl, purr and roar. Despite Nightmare being able to use his tentacles and Dream being able to shoot magic arrows out of his wings, they to also scratch and bite while fighting. Since they are big and heavy, they can easily crush bone under their weight and their bite force is strong enough to split someone in half. If you need a reference, just use Smaug from The Hobbit, he has more or less the balance of animal behavior and human intelligence I’m looking for.

Expanding more on this, the twins stretch just like felines, and often sleep in positions usually cats sleep in (they don’t actually need to sleep but do anyway). Dream likes to go fishing, and by fishing I mean jumping in a lake and chasing the fish underwater. He finds it more fun than sitting around and waiting for the fish to come to you instead.

I guess you count their lack of necessity to wear clothes as animal logic too?

_________________

If you have any more questions about them, I will be happy to answer!

And yes, I do plan on making more drawings of Nightmare and Dream on this form!

Dreamtale belongs to @jokublog

Feral concept/design by @yakutarts (me)

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shukraastro · 8 months ago

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Planets & Nakshatras observation on looks and traits

(applicable for spouse analysis)

Mars ruled Nakshatras: Mrigashira, Chitra, Dhanishta

The skin will have a pinkish/reddish undertone.

They can have cuts/scars/marks on the face (representing their fighting spirit).

Men are prone to anger issues (except for Chitra, cuz it lies in Libra, so they have good controle over their anger)

Women are usually restless or even anxious, especially in Virgo Chitra and Mrigashira.

Saturn ruled Nakshatras: Pushya, Anuradha, Uttara Bhadrapada

If Moon is in these Nakshatras then women can be seen wearing corsettes/shapewear or very tight clothes often, bcuz Saturn represents restrictions.

Saturn also represents ink and metals and in these Nakshatras a person can have tattoos and piercings, but a trigger planet for that would be Mars bcuz Mars rules over wounds and cuts. So Mars in these Nakshatras can very likely result in tattoos and piercings.

Purva Bhadrapada Nakshatra:

If you go back to my previous posts you will find about the foot injury trait of Purva Bhadrapada. I have seen this play out so many times that this Nakshatra will give some type of foot injuries, and prominently on the left foot. Justin Bieber has the planet Sun placed in his 7th house in the D9 chart and it is in the Nakshatra of Purva Bhadrapada. Sun is linked to performing arts, Hailey used to dance Ballet until she injured her left foot. You see how planets in Nakshatras inside the 7th house of the Navamsa can play out.

Also another thing I have noticed in this Nakshatra is the lip shape, they can have a pouty rectangular shaped lower lip. And women here somehow give off "island girl" vibes.

They can also have precognitive dreams, because they are very in tune with their higher self.

Rohini Nakshatra:

They love to wear oversized, baggy clothes and quality materials, because of Moon's influence, they love comfort. On the other hand they may also love to display their appealing physique.

They also love branded luxury items: cars, watches, clothes, perfumes. And they love food a lot, they can eat a lot (with Saturn influence they can be cautious and go on diets).

Also after eating food they will get tired, because of the Venus and Moon influence.

And they will always end up having no fixed work schedule in their career.

They can also become the most achieving at a young age, compared to their workmates.

DK planet or 7th lord in Rohini can give a spouse with sining and dancing abilities, Hailey Bieber has Moon DK/7th lord of D9 in Rohini. (Planets like Sun, Moon, Mercury and Mars can give that as talents, Jupiter could make someone a teacher in that area and Saturn could give it as a career).

Moon influence:

Moon connected to any spouse placements or 7th house can give musical talents in the spouse.

Moon in the 7th house can also either give a cat like appearance to the spouse or a bunny like appearance. Both animals are symbolically connected to Moon, cats are connected because of the hightened intuition and bunnies are connected by the chinese folklore of the moon goddess who's companion is the bunny/rabbit.

Mars influence:

Having Mars as DK/7th lord can indicate a spouse who might be a soldier/police/athlete just anything physical movement related.

Saturn in Rohini:

This combination can cause consumption of Whiskey to enhance creativity. A person will love to drink to feel relaxed and sing and dance. If Mercury influence is also there as well it can amplify this even more.

Saturn in Rohini can also result in dryness, skinnyness, lack of water in the body, dry/flaky skin and acne or other skin irritations. But therefor a person will be very disciplined in following a quality skin care rountine.

Ketu Ruled Nakshatras: Ashwini, Magha, Mula

Will have out-of-body experiences/precognitive dreams/sleep paralysis

They can be very interested in ancient history/culture/scriptures. They're all about the past and the root of things. They may love to dig under the ground, that's why Magha especially can make someone an archeologist or historian or even a teacher.

Also Magha is strongly connected with royalty/royal lineage. They may not be considered a royalty but counting a number of generations back, their ancestors might have been powerful individuals.

In these Nakshatras a person will let their hair grow out. Because hair is linked with roots. And Ketu is all about the roots, because it's the tail of the dragon, the tail represents the underground while Rahu, the head of the dragon represents the sky. So Ketu ruled Nakshatras will keep their hair long, it makes them feel spiritually connected to their past lives. There is something they cannot let go of from their past lives.

Revati Nakshatra:

Another Nakshatra which is connected to royal lineage. (same as Magha here also).

If a man has his DK/7th lord/Venus in this Nakshatra, his wife can be taller than him.

They love to travel and their travel journeys will be comfortable, without any kind of major complications.

They will also be very successful outside of their home country.

With Venus here, a person will find their spouse in a foreign country or move to a foreign country after marriage for their spouse. The spouse can also be someone who travels a lot or is successful overseas. Or a person will travel a lot with their spouse.

Rohini, Mrigashira & Ashlesha Nakshatra (snake yoni or symbol):

As the Ascendant/DK/7th lord/Venus natives will always attract strong Rahuvian people.

They have very intense and hypnotic eyes. Either dark and big or bright and slender. If their eye color is dark they may tend to wear light colored contacts, which can give their eyes a snake like appearance.

Ashleshas will be lisping.

Swati Nakshatra:

They can jump very high and run very fast, they love being in the air/speeding through the air, because the deity is Vayu, he rules over the air (Rahu ruled Nakshatra-Sky connection).

Venus in Swati can make a person have a love for the sky in a creative way, also can give singing abilities, because music is carried through the air, they can also have a love for good sports shoes (for jumping) or high platform shoes (Venus-fashion & Rahu heights). But these can also apply to the spouse, because Venus generally represents the spouse.

Swati can make a person be a fanatic for extreme sports related to heights like mountain climbing, bungee jumping and sky diving. Mars and Venus here can also make a person excel in martial arts and music.

Also they just can't stay still, they are always moving, and can't keep still for a second. They look like they can jump off any second.

I will do more of these observations for the other Nakshatras that are left.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Thanks for reading. 🪐

#astrology #sidereal #darakaraka #navamsa #sidereal chart #vedic astrology #vedic chart #sidereal zodiac #nakshatra #vedic #future spouse #sidereal astrology #vedic astro notes #vedic astro observations #astro observations #astro notes

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droaxa · 8 months ago

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the villainesses scheme

✧ tags: yandere haikyuu male leads x villainess reader

✧ warnings: yandere behavior (later on), reader hits her head

✧ a/n: hi guys guess who’s back!! i love the isekai trope where the mc gets reborn a few years before their death and i needed to put my own lil’ twist on it! i’d love to turn this into something longer (like a series or something) so give me your thoughts!! my recent haikyuu obsession led to this one lol, inspired by: the male leads were stolen by an extra

You were a loser, well not exactly. You had a pretty stable job and a nice flat but lacked one major component in your life: friends. But it’s not like you were antisocial! Moving to a new city just a few months ago, you had been busy with moving in and didn’t exactly have enough time to make friends.

Besides you were preoccupied with your favorite web comic of all time: Flower of the Estate! A commoner girl that has three noble men falling for her? This girl really had some crazy cha(rizz)ma. You weren’t really into harem type stories but wow did it keep you coming back to see what happened.

It was another late night reading Flower of the Estate when you decided to head to the kitchen to get some snacks to keep you fueled. However, when you turned to retreat back you slipped on spilled water near the sink and hit your head on the granite counter! You mentally curse yourself for not cleaning it up as you drift into a deep slumber.

When you open your eyes and the lights blind you, quickly slapping a hand over your face you shoot up. Registering the soft plush beneath you you opened your eyes, when did you get in bed? Looking around your jaw drops, who the hell put you in a room like this! The whole room was illuminated by sunlight peaking behind the luxurious navy drapes and you gasped at the sheer size and extravagance of the bedroom. You were… in a castle?

Jumping off the bed you immediately fell to your knees with a thud. How long had you been out for that your legs were this weak? You push yourself up and stumble to the mirror on a vanity next to the bed. The satin fabric of your night gown fell to the ground, revealing the length that had been bunched up while you were sleeping.

In the mirror, the first thing you see is (e/c) eyes and a face eerily similar to yours. It was your face and body for sure but the state of it wasn’t, your hands were usually rough and your knees were scarred from playing as a child but now both were smooth and even. Then your eyes feel on a crest engraved onto the top of the vanity and your heart dropped.

The beautiful family crest of a black fox protected by two swords was a prevalent symbol in Flower of the Estate. It was the crest of the villainess. You, (y/n) Aleria, were the cruel villainess of the story, waking up here and looking like this had no other explanation. To see if it was true you quickly pushed the sleeve of your left arm up, on the wrist was a faint birthmark. A scar in the shape of a half moon, your fate was sealed. You fall back on the bed. ‘Shit.’

You were official the villainess of Flower of the Estate, who bullies the main character, get thrown out of high society, and then dies. You knew the path that the villainess followed and the actions she took, did that mean you could avoid facing the same death as her as well? The first mistake that she had committed that set her on the path of destruction was her bullying of the main character.

The villainess was notorious for her extravagant lifestyle and cruel manner, she didn’t have anyone close to her and the book never showed her point of view. You knew the basics about her but who was (y/n) — really? Was she really just jealous of the commoner girl that had managed to outshine her or was it deeper than that?

No matter why she behaved that way, you knew that following on her footsteps would only lead you to doom. You needed a game plan, plus you read enough reincarnation manga to know what basic things to avoid as the villainess.

Love Interests and Relations:

Tooru Oikawa - Childhood love (One sided) and (y/n)’s main obsession

Tobio Kageyama - Royal knight who pledged their loyalty to (y/n)

Ushijima Wakatoshi - Esteemed scholar who ended up being (y/n)’s tutor for a short period of time

Ok… this would a little harder than you thought. Why were all the love interests involved with the villainess anyway? Oikawa could be avoided easily enough, you just needed to distance yourself from him and considering that Oikawa was keen on getting rid of you. If you remembered correctly he was rather annoyed by the villainess who would cling to his side like a lost puppy. As for Ushijima, you knew that he would only be your tutor for a month, then leave your care to meet the main character who he would eventually fall in love with. Kageyama would be the hardest to get rid of compared to the other two, he would be around the villainesses the longest and somehow fall in love with her. However much like the others, he would fall in love with the female lead and leave (y/n) to be with her, withdrawing his pledge to be by her side.

Ugh. This is going to be a headache isn’t it?

#yandere #x reader #female reader #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #angst #yandere x y/n #yandere harem #yandere royalty #yandere haikyuu #yandere king #yandere duke #yandere haikyuu x reader #reincarnation #reincarnated reader

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kaleidoscopewritings19 · 6 months ago

Text

Bruce Wayne x Bat!Mom

Title: Please Come Home for Christmas

Warning(s): NONE

Character(s): Bruce Wayne, f!x reader/Batmom, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth

Prompts used are in bold and italicized; italicized paragraphs are flashbacks/memories; song used is Please Come Home For Christmas (words are in red/italicized.)

SONG CAN BE PLAYED AT THIS SYMBOL 🎵 and the song should end about the time the last verse has been typed out. Song will be linked at that music note for your convenience. But here’s the link to song

MY WORKS ARE NOT TO BE TRANSLATED OR POSTED ANYWHERE ELSE! ©️

______

Christmas was your favorite holiday; the Christmas lights, the ambiance, the decorations, and being surrounded by your family made you feel complete.

The boys were in charge of decorating the seven foot Christmas tree. It was the first year you and Bruce had decided to let them take over putting up the tree and decorating it. While the boys decorated the tree in the living room, you were in the kitchen baking sugar cookies with the assistance of Bruce, while Alfred instructed the boys.

Bruce was going through the box of cookie cutters, “Seriously? You have a Batman cookie cutter?” He asked and you smiled, while pouring the two of you a glass of wine. “Of course. I figured we could do a Batman Christmas themed cookie.” Bruce rolled his eyes, and found the ziploc bag full of the normal Christmas cookie cutters.

As the two of you rolled out the cookie dough and began cutting out the festive shapes, the boys could be heard arguing in the living room. You wiped your hands on your apron, and Bruce followed quietly behind you.

Jason and Dick were trying to pull the Christmas tree out of the box, with Damian instructing them. “You have to shimmy it!” He yelled at his two older brothers. “SHIMMY!…. SHIMMY!….. SHIMMY!!”

“SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!” Jason yelled. Alfred walked over to the credenza and poured himself a glass of bourbon before downing it in one gulp. Tim was in the corner testing the lights, and Damian turned to look over at you and Bruce. “Don’t we have people to do this?” He asked and Bruce shook his head.

“No. Since your mom and I got married, we always decorated the interior of the house. You don’t need hired help for everything, Damian.” He said, and Damian flung back on to the couch.

You walked over to the couch and ruffled Damian’s hair, “These type of things take time. Decorating is supposed to be fun, and not a chore. So c’mon. Get up. Dad and I can help get the tree out of the box.”

You and Bruce helped get the tree out of the box and then fluffed out the branches. “There, now all you boys have to do is decorate it.” You stood up from the floor, and the tone in the room seemed more bright.

Alfred walked over to the record player and put on an old Christmas record, “It wouldn’t be Christmas decorating if we didn’t have on a record.”

The boys agreed with him simultaneously, and then got to work sorting out the different ornaments. Bruce followed you back into the kitchen, and continued to cut out and bake the remainder of the cookie dough. When you had placed the last sheet of cookies into the oven, Bruce pressed a kiss to your lips. “I’ll be right back.”

You sipped from your glass of wine, and Bruce brought a smaller record player into the kitchen. He delicately placed a vinyl down, and music filled the kitchen.

The all too familiar tune of Please Come Home for Christmas filled your ears- the voices of the Eagles (one of your favorite bands) sang the first lyric. You smiled at Bruce, and he walked around the kitchen island.

He took the glass of wine from your hands and sat it down on the marble counter top. “May I have this dance, Mrs. Wayne?” He asked and you pulled his body into yours. “Always.”

He held your hips firmly and you wrapped your arms around his neck.

My baby’s gone, I have no friends

To wish me greetings once again..

His forehead leaned against yours, and the two of you swayed to the music. Unbeknownst to you, Alfred and the boys watched from the pass-through window, but the two of you were too lost in each other to notice. “Why are they dancing to a sad song?” Jason asked and Alfred watched the two of you in awe.

“Let me tell you a story.” Alfred started and the boys turned their attention to Alfred. “Your parents had married on December 15th— this year will be their 15th wedding anniversary. Your mum was 22 years of age and your father 25. They had decided they wanted to spend the rest of their lives together.” The boys listened intently,

“Your father, had just become the Batman, and didn’t want to take a break from it. Even if it was taking time from them celebrating this new adventure in life. Your mum had left, because he decided that being Batman was far more important than staying home for a couple of weeks.”

You and Bruce had insisted on Alfred taking the night off so the two of you could celebrate your honeymoon, and decorate the Christmas tree alone. Bora Bora was the plan, but you had wanted to celebrate Christmas at home, and Bruce agreed. You were sitting on the floor next to Bruce as he opened a box of Christmas tree lights. “I don’t care what the box says, these lights are definitely not untangled.” Bruce mumbled, and you smiled.

“There’s glitter in my hair, on my clothes, and somehow, in my coffee. This is chaos.” You replied and Bruce pressed a kiss to your temple. “Well, you look hot covered in glitter.”

The two of you helped each other decorate the tree, and shared kisses in between. Wayne Manor was being filled with Christmas music, laughter, and lots of love.

The Christmas tree was big, bright, and beautiful. It lit up the entire room, and the fire crackling set the perfect ambiance. Bruce laid out blankets and pillows in front of the fireplace, and he convinced you that instead of sleeping in the bed, the two of you could sleep in front of the fireplace.

The two of you had fallen asleep in each other’s arms, wrapped up in nothing but the blankets. When you had woken up, your watch read 11:47 PM, and Bruce was no where to be found.

You had checked the bedroom, bathroom, the study, and even the garage. Then it had dawned on you; he was probably down in the batcave. You slipped on your silk robe, and pressed the keys on the piano, and the bookcase had opened, revealing the long, dark cave entrance.

The cool air nipped at your skin, and sure enough, there was Bruce on the platform in the middle of the water. He was pulling on his armor, and you started to walk across the short bridge; the sound of the waterfall covering the sounds of your feet.

“Bruce, what are you doing?” You asked and he jumped a little.

“Well, I decided to patrol. There’s a lot of criminal activity tonight.” He said as he turned around in the chair to face you.

You stepped in front of him; his hands traced up your bare leg, then pulling you closer to his body. You looked down at him, your fingers running through his hair, “I thought we had agreed that you wouldn’t patrol for two weeks. That we would enjoy our honeymoon, and Christmas together.”

He stood up from the chair and he sat his cowl on the desk. “It will just be tonight, baby.” He said as his fingers combed through your hair.

His eyes were your weakness, and he knew you would break underneath his gaze, “I promise it will just be for tonight.“ he whispered, and you loosened the tie to your robe, revealing your naked frame to him. A smirk worked its way across his face, and he pulled you closer to him, “When I get home, I’ll make it up to you Mrs. Wayne.”

Bruce pressed a kiss to your neck, and you sighed while covering up your body. “Fine. But only for tonight.”

But ‘only for tonight’ turned into a week. He went out every night that week, and you had decided enough was enough. One night, when Bruce had left, you packed a suitcase and booked a trip to London. If you were going to spend your honeymoon alone, you were going to have fun alone- in a different country.

“So your mum left the country and went to London. Your father, of course, did not notice she was gone until the afternoon of the next day.” Alfred stated, and he brought the boys to the living room to finish telling the story.

“Master B called me in a panic, and I came home straightaway. I feared that one of the adversaries had figured out who the Batman was, and took Miss Y/N.” Alfred pulled a piece a paper from the display books on the coffee table. “I found this note on this very coffee table, explaining where she was. Your father back then… He could be quite oblivious to these sort of things.”

~~~~~~~~~

Dearest Bruce,

I love you with all of my heart, but spending these nights alone made me realize that maybe I wasn’t meant to be the wife of the Batman. I married you, Bruce. I find it tough to share you with the people of Gotham. Deep down, I know this city needs you- desperately. But I need you too. I am going to London for the remainder of our honeymoon, and I promise I will come back to Gotham so we can sort all of this out.

With love,

Y/N

~~~~~~~~~

The boys passed the letter around, “Why didn’t she just stay and tell him?” Jason asked and Alfred shrugged his shoulders.

“Your father could hear words, but he never truly listened. They were young, Jason. Communicating is something that is learned throughout the course of marriage. It’s not always easy, and it takes two to learn, grow, and adapt with one another. Luckily, your parents worked through it, and learned.” Alfred stated and no one noticed you and Bruce standing in the doorway.

“Well, what happened next?” Tim asked and Bruce answered.

“When Alfred found the note, I read it. I realized I promised to take time off from Batman and spend time with my wife. And I didn’t keep that promise.” Bruce sat down in the recliner, and you sat down on the arm of the chair.

His hand rested on your lower back, “I didn’t know how to distribute my time- she was my girlfriend when I started Batman. She had her own life, and it wasn’t until after she left I realized that she gave up a part of her life to create one with me. She couldn’t do that alone.”

You turned to look at Bruce, “I went after her, and the entire trip there, all I could think about was the promise I made and didn’t keep. Most people wouldn’t see it as a big deal, but I made a commitment to you. A life long commitment- and if I didn’t keep my promise for those two weeks like you had asked, how would you ever trust my future promises, or the promises I made when we exchanged our vows?” He spoke to you directly now.

Bruce stared up into your eyes, and he pulled you down to his lap, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. “Going after you, was the best decision I ever made.” He pressed a kiss to your lips, and the boys made gagging sounds.

“Ew! Please stop!”

“Get a room!”

“Wait- what did them dancing to that sad song have anything to do with their marital problem?” Damian asked, and you turned to look at them.

You looked at Bruce for confirmation to finish the story. Bruce nodded and his cheeks turned red, “Well, I left the 22nd, and he didn’t find out where I was until the afternoon of the 23rd. Then it took him until the 24th to find pilots to fly the Wayne jet, and that night he arrived in London.” You smiled at Bruce. “So on the night of Christmas Eve, I decided to have dinner in the hotel’s restaurant. I wore my best dress, and strange enough, there was no one else in the dining hall. The lights were dimmed, and the waiter took me to a table in the middle of the room.”

Alfred took a seat on the couch, and smiled. “There was a candle, and two wine glasses and a bottle of my favorite red wine. I turned to the waiter and explained that it was just me, but he pushed my chair in and walked away.”

Bruce hid his face in your hair, “The stage lights turned on, and there was a group of men on the stage, and the opening notes to Please Come Home for Christmas started to play. 🎵

When my eyes had adjusted to these lights, lo and behold, the Eagles, were standing in front of me.”

“Bells will be ringin' the sad, sad news

Oh, what a Christmas to have the blues

My baby's gone, I have no friends

To wish me greetings once again”

You sat there in shock, and then through the corner of your eye, Bruce was standing at the edge of the stage. Slowly, you stood up and Bruce walked over to you; he was wearing his best suit and tie. All you could do was stare at him and then back at the stage, “You did this?” You asked and Bruce nodded.

“May I have this dance?” He asked and you gave him your hand.

Bruce pulled you into his body, his right hand held your waist, and his left hand met your right hand. You stared up into his eyes, and he leaned his forehead against yours. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, as he spun you out away from him, and then he pulled you back into his strong embrace. “I didn’t keep my promise. I feel terrible about it. But I feel even worse that it took you leaving for me to notice the broken promise.”

“Sure as the stars shine above

But this is Christmas, yes, Christmas, my dear

It’s the time of year to be with the one you love.”

“Will you forgive me, Y/N? There is no one else I would rather solve problems with, or experience life with. I only want you. Please come home for Christmas.” He whispered in your ear, and you pulled away from him.

All you could say was “Yes.” And Bruce’s hand held the back of your head as he pressed a kiss to your lips.

“There'll be no more sorrow, no grief and pain

And I'll be happy, happy once again.”

When he pulled away you pulled him back and pressed a long, needed kiss to his lips. “Thank you for coming after me.” You said against his lips, and then you smiled. “I guess there was a less dramatic way to discuss this. I’m sorry.”

Bruce shook his head, “Thank you for leaving. Otherwise, I don’t think I would have realized the error I made. I tend to hear, but not actually listen.” He said as he kissed your forehead.

“Ooh, there'll be no more sorrow, no grief and pain

And I'll be happy, Christmas once again.”

The final piano notes of the song played and you turned to Bruce, “How did you manage to get the Eagles to sing in a hotel restaurant? And why is there no one else here?” You asked and Bruce smiled as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I bought the restaurant. And as for them, I bought out an entire concert to get them here, plus some since it was Christmas.”

Bruce pulled you into a hug, and he waved for the band to play the song again.

_________

“He paid a for an entire concert? To play one song?” Dick asked and you smiled.

“No, they played their whole set list, and we had dinner with them. But it was after all of that, that meant the most to me.” You said as you looked at Bruce.”

“Ew, mom, we don’t want to hear this.” Jason said as he buried his face into a throw pillow. “Not that, Jason.” You stood up and picked up a small Big Ben ornament. Bruce stood up and followed you to tree, and his hand wrapped around yours, and he helped place the ornament on a branch in the middle.

“The clock is set to the time that your father and I kissed at our wedding, after saying I do.” You said and Bruce pulled you into a hug.

The boys surrounded the two of you, and even Alfred joined in on the hug. “So that’s why we take off from December 15th until the 29th.” Tim said and you smiled.

“Unless Gotham is in dire need of its Dark Knight. I too, have learned sometimes the city needs him more than I need him. But he somehow manages to be there for both.” You say, and Bruce pulls you into another breath taking kiss.

“Shall we go ahead and take our annual Christmas photo?” Alfred asks and you smile.

All of you gathered around the tree, and Alfred set the camera’s timer. He raced over and straightened out his suit and tie, “Everyone say SHIMMY!” Alfred shouted and everyone burst into laughter.

“SHIMMY!” Everyone exclaimed and the camera flash went off. In the photo, Damian’s mouth was agape, and he looked over at Jason who was laughing.

Then the fire alarm started blaring in the kitchen, “THE COOKIES!” You and Bruce screamed, and the two of you raced into the kitchen.

Bruce opened the smoke filled oven, and pulled out the cookie sheet with a dish towel. He dropped the pan into the sink, and after the smoke had cleared, everyone had a clear view of the cookies.

They were completely burned. All everyone could do was laugh, “They’re cookies are as hard as hockey pucks!” Jason said as he banged them in the counter. “I wonder if a bullet would go through them?” He asked out loud.

Bruce pulled you into his body and pressed a kiss to your lips. After what Jason had said processed, you looked at him, “Don’t you even think about it! No guns in the kitchen, and not shooting at the cookies!”

That night after cleaning the kitchen, the seven of you sat in the living room enjoying sugar cookies in front of the fireplace, and enjoying the view of the tree, all while playing some Wayne Family Christmas Games.

The End!

Authors Note:

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this! Comments, likes, and reblog are always appreciated. Please let me know what you thought!

xoxo

#bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x batmom #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne #batman x reader #jason todd #dick grayson #damian wayne #tim drake #batmom #alfred pennyworth

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baelarys · 27 days ago

Text

Aemond Targaryen x Fem! reader

Warning: death, violence, incest, profanity, dead Dove, do not eat (I hope I'm using the tag correctly, correct me if I am not)

You had never truly owned anything in your life.

No lands, no castles, no weapons, no horses. Not even your own name belonged to you by right. The jewels that once adorned your neck and the dresses that covered your body were never really yours; they were gifts—rewards for obedience or concessions hard-won after proving your worth time and again.

The only things you could ever truly claim as your own were your willpower and your mind—your only constant allies in a world that seemed determined to break you. Thanks to them, you survived even after death cast its shadow over your entire family. A tragic end, yes, but not an unexpected one—at least not for those who knew the long, slow decline of your house since the death of your great-great-grandfather.

Being the youngest of your mother’s children was already a disadvantage. Being a girl only made matters worse. From the moment you could take your first steps, your fate was carefully shaped by others: you were to become the perfect doll, a delicate and obedient image. You were raised to embody sweetness, grace, and silence—the ideal little princess, granddaughter of the King, conceived as a symbol of reconciliation on the complex political chessboard of the court.

Your very existence was meant to soothe the storm between the heir to the throne and the queen. Your hand in marriage would be the offering to seal peace between two raging fires—a promise of balance upheld by your ability to smile, stay quiet, and obey.

Aemond was always kind to you. Or at least, that’s how it seemed in your childhood, especially compared to your uncle Aegon, who used to tug your hair when the nurses or their mothers weren’t looking, or would simply leave you behind without a second thought when you and your siblings played in the hall.

Perhaps you and Aemond forged that particular bond because you shared something deeper than blood: the condition of being outsiders. While the others shone with a light that seemed destined from the cradle, the two of you walked in the shadow of duty—watching, learning, and surviving in silence.

Aemond would sit with you to read, to study, to ponder things others deemed boring or unnecessary. His outbursts were fearsome when he didn’t understand something and you, with a patience forged by affection, corrected him. Still, he was the only one who stayed. The only one who played with you, who talked to you, who sought you out when everyone else forgot you.

You remember his firm hand closing around your wrist, pulling you through the halls of the Red Keep while you stifled your laughter, trying not to make a sound. He would take you to the kitchens, where you’d steal sweets before fleeing with whispers and flushed cheeks, giddy with excitement. He’d also drag you to the throne room, where you played dangerously close to the edges of the Iron Throne, as if you both knew your fates were somehow tied to that monstrous seat of steel.

It was Aemond who offered to help you feed your dragon when your brothers weren’t around, who listened to your silences, who saw your tears when no one else noticed... and who, unintentionally, could also be the one to cause them.

In his company, you learned that affection could be a double-edged blade, that tenderness sometimes wore the mask of clumsiness, that the truest love could hurt more than rejection. Aemond was never perfect—but he was yours. Your friend. Your accomplice. The only one who never asked you to be anything but yourself, even when the rest of the world demanded otherwise.

The news of your betrothal to Aemond didn’t come as a surprise.

It was, in truth, a predictable move. Neither you nor Aemond were particularly valuable pieces on the grand chessboard of power, but neither were you insignificant enough to be left aside. A marriage between the two of you was a strategic maneuver—a discreet bridge between two factions whose tensions grew with each passing day. A convenient bond, insignificant enough not to raise alarm, yet useful enough to allow the eyes and ears of one side to slip, unnoticed, into the territory of the other.

While Aemond trained in the courtyard, repeating his exercises with the same stoic discipline that shaped his daily routine—as if each strike of his sword could, on its own, grant him purpose—you received the news that, whispered with a veneer of courtesy, sealed your fate. Those cold, red stone walls would become your permanent home after the wedding.

Far from your mother. Far from your brothers.

That day, the weather seemed to echo the news with cruel precision. The sky, overcast and gray, stretched over King’s Landing like a slab of stone. The air was thick and sticky with humidity, clinging to your skin like a reminder of the inevitable. It smelled of confinement, of rusted iron and broken promises.

Queen Alicent, with that seemingly measured but empty kindness, had spoken briefly with you that morning. She used gentle words, carefully chosen phrases about duty, loyalty, and the need to preserve the stability of the realm. Then she left you in the hands of the septa.

That was when the conversation took on a harsher tone.

Your role within the marriage was explained to you without illusions. It wasn’t about love, nor shared dreams, but about duty. Obedience. Fertility. Decorum. You were to be the balm for a prince’s fury—a prince who had never known tenderness—the devoted wife who would support his ambition with a smile. A useful womb for a cause that was never yours to begin with.

“You will be wed,” the septa began, her voice firm and unadorned as she seated herself across from you. She placed a cup of wine beside you with care, the red liquid trembling slightly with the movement. You nodded in silence, not lifting your gaze, your fingers fumbling with the delicate golden embroidery of your gown, as if you could somehow hide among the stitches.

“Do you know what marriage means?” she asked with a trace of condescension. You nodded again, without conviction, unable to meet her eyes.

With deliberate slowness, she stacked two books on the oak table between you, closing the space with a dull thud. Then she leaned forward. Her voice, once gentle, took on a deeper, more direct tone.

“Do you know what you must do when you marry a prince?”

You didn’t answer. Your eyes remained fixed on your skirt’s embroidery, as if you could find something entertaining in the threads if you stared hard enough.

The septa sighed, visibly exasperated.

“Listen to me, princess. Your mother has asked me to be very specific with you,” she said, more sternly now, folding her hands on the table. “This will not be an ordinary marriage. You are about to become the wife of the queen’s son, the rider of Vhagar—a man who was not raised to deal with silly little girls.”

She paused, letting the weight of her words linger in the air.

“Your husband will be Prince Aemond. He is no common man. He has fire in his blood and steel in his heart. He does not seek sweetness, but he expects obedience. As a wife, you must learn to please him—not only at the table or in the castle halls, but in his bed.”

Her words fell like lead into the silence.

“You must be submissive, but not useless. He will want a companion who does not hinder him, who knows when to speak and when to be silent. You must understand his silences, accept his absences, endure his wrath if it comes, and never challenge him in public.”

She straightened and opened one of the books before you. The illustrations were ancient, delicate—and yet explicit in their purpose.

“Here, you will learn the essentials of the conjugal arts. Do not expect passion. Do not expect tenderness. But you must fulfill your part. You must know how to receive him, how to please him, how to ensure he returns to you when others try to pull him away.”

You felt as though you didn’t belong to that moment, as if everything was happening around you, not to you. But the septa’s words were clear, irreversible.

“And more importantly,” she added, “you must give him children. Healthy heirs, with white hair and violet eyes. That will be your greatest contribution to the realm… and the only way to secure your place in this nest of vipers.”

There was a heavy silence.

The septa closed the book softly, as though sealing a vow.

The wedding was arranged in less than three months. It was a discreet ceremony by royal standards, yet still opulent—just enough to meet the expectations of the House of the Dragon. Every detail was carefully chosen to reflect the power and purity of Targaryen blood.

They dressed you like a queen. The gown, made of red silk woven with threads of gold, fit your silhouette with perfect precision, and the jewels adorning your neck and wrists gleamed as though the sun itself had settled on you. The veil, long and sheer, fell over your shoulders like a second skin, and your lips, carefully painted, trembled slightly each time someone uttered your new title.

You sat beside Aemond after the first dance and did not rise again. Your role was already fulfilled: smile, nod, raise your cup. He, as expected, remained reserved. He did not seek your hand nor your words, nor did he offer his own. The image you both projected was flawless—cold and solemn, like two marble statues bound by duty.

The septa’s words returned to you like a timely echo: “Drink until you no longer recognize where you are, but not so much that you faint or vomit.” And you followed her advice. The wine soothed your nerves with a deceptive sweetness, wrapping you in a haze of weightlessness that made everything seem farther away, more bearable.

When the bedding ceremony arrived, your legs were barely aware of the weight of the gown they dragged behind. The applause was a distant wave, and the murmurs of the guests a sea of shapeless sound. You let yourself be guided by the handmaidens, your head held high but your will fast asleep.

The marriage chamber was spacious, quiet, and adorned in scarlet and gold. The sheets were new, soft, and smelled of flowers you could not name. Aemond said nothing as he closed the door behind him. His movements were meticulous, unhurried, as if each gesture were part of a long-rehearsed routine.

You did not resist. You did not protest. The carefully measured intoxication allowed you to forget your pride, to ignore the humiliation of standing naked before someone who did not love you, of offering your body as a bridge between two sides locked in a silent war.

There were no sweet words, no ceremonial caresses. Only the weight of his body over yours, the rough brush of his breath, the burden of duty made flesh. It wasn’t violent, but it wasn’t gentle either. It was exactly what was expected.

You remember only one thing clearly before the haze of the wine claimed you completely: the warm, sharp sensation of fullness in your belly, and his long silver hair tickling your cheek as he leaned over you. Then, darkness enveloped you, and you let it carry you away.

The next morning was a punishment in itself.

Your body woke with a dull ache you couldn’t quite place. Every muscle felt numb, as if it no longer belonged to you. Your mouth was dry, coated with the bitter aftertaste of the previous night’s wine, and as soon as you tried to stand, your stomach betrayed you. You vomited once, twice, three times, your body hunched over the bronze basin while the handmaidens waited in silence for the tremors to leave your limbs.

Aemond was gone.

Not in the bed, not in the adjacent room, not waiting in a corner with a compassionate look or a word of comfort. There was no trace of him.

And that absence—so eloquent in its coldness—told you more than any promise spoken in the vows the day before.

In the days that followed, you came to understand the essential truth: Aemond would not be a warm husband. He would not be a companion. His role was clear, defined, almost mechanical. The moments you shared were silent, tense, and when he spoke, his words were usually sharp—daggers thrown with surgical precision.

They weren’t open arguments, but constant, quiet fractures: a disdainful remark about your lineage, a veiled jab at your lack of influence, a whispered criticism of your upbringing or your posture. The wounds didn’t always bleed, but they hurt.

And yet, his interest in your body seemed unshakable.

There was no sweetness in his touch. No shared desire, not even passion. Only need. Domination. A contained urgency that, once released, left you hollow and alone beneath the sheets, as if your existence had been split between marital duty and daily humiliation. Aemond was not openly cruel, but he knew exactly how to make you feel used, small, dispensable. And he did it with a disturbing calm.

"Look at you," Aemond spat coldly, his voice low and cutting like the edge of a dagger. "You can't even breathe with decorum."

His body loomed over yours, an oppressive shadow against the cold stone of the corridor. The contact was not affectionate, but it was passionate; a display of power, a silent assertion of dominance. The icy marble of the wall pressed into your back as he leaned in, closing the already scant space between you. Your chest rose and fell with difficulty, searching for air, searching for words.

You tried to speak.

But your voice was quickly silenced—his hand closed over your mouth, dry, firm, unyielding.

"Silence," he ordered, in a tone so low it barely rose above the murmur of the wind slipping through the windows.

His gaze—that single eye of ice—showed no remorse, only calculation. Control. As if every gesture, every word, had been meticulously crafted to remind you which of the two dictated the rules of this marriage.

"What would they think if someone saw us in such an indecent scene... outside the privacy of the bedchamber?" he added, his voice laced with a veiled threat, his lips barely grazing your ear.

It wasn’t a question. It was a warning.

Your fingers clutched the edge of your dress, gripping the fabric as if it could hold back the tremor beginning to take over your body. You didn’t cry. You didn’t complain. But the silence you offered wasn’t out of submission—it was strategy. Because deep down, you knew that yielding without resistance was, for now, the only way to endure it.

As expected, the main purpose of that union was not love or harmony, but offspring. The promise of an heir to secure the future of Targaryen blood and reinforce the fragile bridge between two warring sides.

From the moment the maester confirmed your condition, your body ceased to belong to you. The gazes became more invasive, the commands stricter, the whispers more persistent. Suddenly, everything you did or didn’t do was reduced to one function: to carry.

Aemond said very little upon hearing the news. He simply looked at you for a few seconds with that impenetrable expression he always wore when he wanted to keep you at a distance. Then he returned to his books, to his training, to his silences. The pregnancy didn’t bring him closer to you. If anything, it made him even more distant, as if now that you had fulfilled your role, you were nothing more than a useful vessel.

In the months that followed, your body changed, and with it came endless discomforts. The discomfort of a belly that grew rapidly, of a back that found no rest, of meals that returned in waves of nausea, and of nights where sleep refused to come. The handmaidens whispered among themselves, the septa prayed with you with her cold hands, and you thought only of surviving one more day. You felt watched, examined, assessed. Even the maesters took your pulses as if you were breeding stock.

The sense of vulnerability was constant. You no longer belonged to yourself.

And when the day of the birth finally arrived, there was no romance, no joy. Only raw pain, the dampness of soaked sheets, the scream that tore from your throat, and the blood that stained the stone floor. What should have been a glorious moment was simply... exhausting. Invasive. Brutal.

You don’t clearly remember the moment you first heard him cry—only the weight of a maester pressing down on your belly, the septa’s voice urging you to push, and the sudden emptiness when the child was finally pulled from you.

That night, as you lay in clean sheets with a broken body and dry eyes, you realized something.

You had done something right.

Not something orderly, not something imposed, not something expected of you.

No. This time, you had done it. You, and you alone.

Aerion.

He was your son.

Yours, entirely yours.

You had felt his first heartbeat deep within your womb, had borne the weight of his life pressing upon yours for countless moons, had bled and screamed and pushed to bring him into the world. He was beautiful—more than you would ever dare to say aloud. Sturdy, with smooth, warm skin like that of a newborn lamb, and strands of pale hair that shimmered like moon-silk in the morning light. When his eyes first opened, they looked at you as if he had always been waiting for you.

Aerion was your creation.

Not Aemond’s. Not the queen’s. Not the realm’s.

Yours.

From the moment you first held him in your arms, something inside you changed permanently. You were no longer just a forced wife, nor a disposable political piece. You were a mother. And through him, for the first time, you felt alive.

You became fierce. Attentive. Intolerant of even the smallest mistake concerning him.

You would snatch him from the arms of handmaidens if they held him too loosely.

You gave the maesters strict instructions on which remedies he could or couldn’t be given when he cried.

You allowed no drafts, no raised voices, no cold hands near his cradle.

Even Aemond—who needed only a word to make you yield—seemed to recognize that new tension in you. Something unexpected had awakened in him as well: a quiet devotion to the child. He would stroke the boy’s hair with awkward fingers, linger silently in the doorway to watch him sleep, and rarely argued when you asked him not to lift Aerion while he was resting. Though he never shared tenderness with you, he seemed to respect — perhaps even fear — the fury that motherhood had awoken in you.

You were both guardians of the child. But you were more than that—you were a she-wolf with her cub. And no one dared to challenge you.

Until they did.

One afternoon, in the septon’s gardens, as you strolled with Aerion wrapped in his hand-knitted woolen cloak, you heard the syrupy, sickly-sweet voice of Lady Merel Florent—a court lady and a favorite of the queen for her obedience and loyalty. She was holding a child with an absurdly oversized head, cradling him as though he were a trophy earned by her womb.

"Sometimes nature rewards beauty… and forgets judgment," she murmured with soft laughter as she passed by, glancing sideways at Aerion. "A pity that some children are born with so little future… as delicate and empty as their mothers."

You didn’t think twice.

"It’s not my fault that my Aerion wasn’t born with a big, empty head like your baby, Lady Merel," you said in a tone so sharp and calm that even the leaves seemed to stop rustling for a moment.

Silence fell instantly. The laughter died. The color drained from her face.

You said nothing more. You rose with the sleeping child resting against your chest and returned inside without looking back.

That night, when you returned to your chambers, Aemond was already waiting. Sitting by the window, his profile bathed in the torchlight from the courtyard below. He didn’t need to raise his voice.

"Does it fulfill you, humiliating a lady in front of half the court?" he asked, not looking at you directly.

You knew he wasn’t there by choice. The queen had sent him—there was no doubt. That lady and her child mattered to him as much as the carvings on the pillars in the great hall. But you had dared to speak. To laugh at someone in public. And what he couldn’t allow was for people to believe he couldn’t keep you in check.

You didn’t answer.

You turned your back to him, walking toward the bed with deliberately slow steps. Your fingers moved to the ties that held your dress at the sides. You wanted it to be clear that you were tired. That you had no interest in entertaining a discussion driven by a man’s wounded pride. That he wasn’t important enough to deserve even a reply.

"I asked you a question. Answer me," he repeated, this time stepping closer. His steps were heavy, determined. The creak of his boots on the stone floor filled the room.

"Answer me!" he snapped, grabbing your wrist tightly, stopping the motion of your hands.

You raised your face to him, furious—without fear, without pleading.

"Let me go! Don’t act like you care! Don’t pretend to be the offended husband when all you do is ignore me until you find something to punish!" you spat the words, your face flushed with rage, your voice trembling—but steady.

Aemond didn’t move.

His fingers still gripped your wrist, tighter than necessary, and his eye—usually cold, measured—locked onto yours with an unfamiliar, almost dangerous intensity.

“You never care about anything I do,” you added in a broken whisper, heavy with exhaustion. A truth spoken on the verge of tears, less out of anger and more from years of accumulated indifference.

Then it happened.

There was no warning.

He didn’t raise his voice.

He didn’t shout.

His hand, swift and almost automatic, cut through the air and struck your cheek with a sharp, clear smack that seemed to silence the entire room.

The blow turned your face to the side. For a moment, time stopped; the burning spread across your skin like a flame, more from disbelief than from the pain itself.

He had never done that.

Never.

Not Aemond.

You stared at him, mouth agape, still tearless, as if your mind was still trying to process what had just happened. He, for his part, said nothing. No apology, no word of warning. He only lowered his hand slowly, as if only then realizing what he had done.

You broke like a child who had held back tears for too long.

First came the trembling of your lips. Then your throat tightened, your chest pressed as if the air had become thick and painful to breathe. Finally, the crying burst forth with a silent, heartbreaking force, as if it had been building somewhere deep inside you for months.

You only cried.

It was barely a muffled whimper, as if your soul had given way before your body. The first tear fell without permission, then another, and another, until your hands could no longer hide your face and your breath trembled like a leaf in winter.

You didn’t know how long you stayed that way, alone in the room, hunched over the edge of the bed, hugging yourself. The door remained closed. The silence was thick, almost cruel, and deep down, you knew he wouldn’t come back.

You didn’t hear his footsteps. You didn’t hear the click of the door or the sound of his breathing. You only felt the weight when the mattress creaked beside you. And his warmth—that inevitable presence—when he sat at your back.

His hands didn’t touch your face or try to lift your chin. He didn’t ask for forgiveness. He didn’t whisper a single excuse. He simply wrapped one steady, encompassing arm around your waist and pulled you toward him.

Your body, tense at first, fought against the natural urge to give in. But you were tired. So tired. And when his other hand rested gently at the nape of your neck, guiding you until your forehead came to rest against his collarbone, everything you had held back spilled over in silent force.

His fingers tangled in your hair, twisted like the thoughts in your mind, and though he said nothing, though pride still burned in his eyes, his touch trembled. There was guilt there, even if he didn’t know how to name it.

He held you. That was all.

And for that night, though the damage remained, though forgiveness was neither asked nor granted, at least you weren’t alone in the dark.

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interstellarsystem · 1 month ago

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Otherheartedness, Synpaths and Hearthomes – A Quick Rundown

We've seen some posts around like this for other subsections of the community, so we figured we'd make a 'heartedness one. This isn’t extensive, nor does it cover the entirety of the hearted experience–but it should serve as a general rundown of the community. This post has a PDF version that's going to be archived on our Neocities.

Terminology

Otherhearted: – Synonyms: “Otherkith”A person with a strong connection to a species, character or other entity, usually defined by identifying "with", but not "as". More on what exactly this means later.

Concepthearted: A person whose otherhearted identity relates to concepts. (Emotionhearted, songhearted, timehearted, etc).

Facthearted: A person whose otherhearted identity relates to real, this-world people, places or individual animals. (Hearttypes including specific oceans, public figures/celebrities, specific animals, etc).

Fictionhearted: A person whose otherhearted identity relates to fictional characters, species or places. (Nightfuryhearted, Mariohearted, etc).

Planthearted: A person whose otherhearted identity relates to plants. (Treehearted, sunflowerhearted, etc).

Theriohearted: – Synonyms: “Animalhearted” A person whose otherhearted identity relates to animals. (Wolfhearted, bearhearted, etc).

Hearttype: – Synonyms: “Kithtype”, debatably “Synpath”The entity that an otherhearted individual identifies with.

–hearted: A suffix used to denote your specific hearttype. For example, a person whose hearttype is wolves would be wolfhearted.

Hearthome: A hearthome is a place–be it real or fictional–that a person has a deep connection with, often to the point of considering it a “home” regardless of if they’ve never been there in their current life/body.

Synpath: A thing someone identifies with and not as, used similarly to "hearttype", though there's nuances separating the two terms depending on who you ask.

Symbols

The otherhearted symbol or diamond heart was proposed by tumblr user aestherians in 2017, chosen by the community using a poll. The design features a ring interlocking with a heart, which converges into a diamond shape in the middle.

What Does It Really Mean?

“Identifying With”

“Identifying with” is a broad category that’s understandably, quite confusing. This explanation aims to make it a little more understandable, but this absolutely doesn’t cover the entirety of what “identifying with” can mean. “It” in the following points refers to a hearttype or potential hearttype, whatever that may be.

You feel like you “should have” been it, but you aren’t.

You feel like you “could have” been it, but you aren’t.

It is a part of you even if it’s not entirely “you”.

You feel like you will be it in a future life.

You believe that in another life, you are/have been it, but right now you’re not.

Your sense of self wouldn’t be the same without it as a part of your life.

It’s your ideal self, or a representation of it.

You feel at home around it or imagining being around it.

It’s the form of your daemon.

You believe it’s a parallel life of yours, but you’re not it right now.

It influences your identity in some way.

It’s a special interest or hyperfixation that feels tied to your sense of self.

You feel like it is a part of the same family as you.

You feel like it is, in a way, kind of almost you, but a little “to the left”--too distinct to be you in a literal sense.

You feel like you belong with it, but you’re not literally one of them.

It is a part of your identity in some way other than you being literally them.

A lot of the above points relate in similar ways to hearthome identities, but reworded to incorporate “it” as a place instead. Additional points for hearthomes include:

Feeling like you should be there.

Feeling like you were there once, and it’s left a mark on your identity.

That place holding a special place within your identity.

Feeling a “pull” toward that place.

FAQ:

How is this different from otherkin/therians?

A therian/otherkin identifies as their kintype, whereas an otherhearted person doesn’t, and will have a different type of connection to them. Think of the difference as “I am [kintype]” vs “[hearttype] is a part of my identity”. However, there’s plenty of nuance, grey areas between them, and these identities can even shift and become each other over time, so this is a general statement not accounting for those nuances.

Both things are still alterhuman, and no identity is “lesser” than the other–hearttypes can have just as much influence over a person’s identity as kintypes can.

Can hearttypes be chosen/voluntary?

Yes! There’s a divide between otherkin and otherlinkers in this way, but this hasn’t ever really been a need for the ‘hearted community to define or draw a line between.

What things can be a hearttype?

Anything! Generally, if you are currently experiencing it, the rule is that it can happen. You’re experiencing it, after all!

Hearttypes can be (but aren’t limited to):

Animals, mythical creatures, plants, fungi

Oceans, forests, off-planet locations, buildings, fictional locations, other natural formations like rivers and mountains

People, real or fictional

Emotions, colours, aesthetics, sounds, seasons, songs

Objects, robots, machines, artworks

Book series, tv shows, movies, games

Do otherhearted people shift?

Otherhearted people absolutely can experience shifts, as can any other alterhuman and even non-alterhumans. Shifting isn’t a thing exclusive to otherkin/therians.

Is this different from a special interest or hyperfixation?

For some people, yes! We’ve seen many people (including ourselves) who experience these things with a lot of overlap. For others, no–they’re distinct things even if there might be some similarities.

Hearttypes can be the same thing as your special interest/hyperfixation, or they might not be. Sometimes hearttypes form spins/hyperfixes and sometimes it’s the other way around! It’s really up to the individual to decide whether these things are hearttypes or not–there’s no set default for this.