#and not just draw them but put power in it! in his nature he is victorious and he is proud!!

[hassians-sernuk-boyfriend]

okay so hunting. bc I can't stop thinking about it.

under the cut bc talking about killing animals

okay so. disclaimer that I do not hunt so this is all just from me reading and thinking and interacting with people who do hunt.

so like. deer hunting, in general, is about shooting a deer and then tracking the blood-trail to find where it ended up collapsing from bloodloss. it's not a pretty instant kill and it's not very clean at all.

with a gun, you do a very targeted amount of damage with a fairly high piercing power, but despite that, you still don't really aim for the head, in general, you aim for the lungs, because flooding the lungs with blood will make the deer drop faster.

with a bow, it's generally considered the most humane to use the broadest arrow to do the most damage possible as quickly as possible, but the wider the head, the slower the arrow and the less penetration power it has.

(also, blunt arrows get used for lil guys but I do not think chapaa are small enough for that)

better material makes arrows go faster and bows hold more strength per inch or w/e, and various techniques can be used to make these more efficient, which is why a skilled weaponsmith makes a better bow even with the same materials available

we know that Hassian cares about getting a clean kill and respecting things and etc so applying this shit to The Headcanons

Hassian uses a bow, obviously, and we know he is a Good Shot, he Never Loses an Arrow, and he is Quiet, at very least.

this means we know he uses broadhead arrows and at most, a recurve bow for silence (the more recurved, the stronger the bow, but the the louder the spring)

he'd also want wide arrows + most piercing power, so higher pound of bow strength

if i remember right, bow strength goes from around 20lb for common use, up to around 30lb for hunting, then around 60lb for War, then up to 100lb for long range war, and then up to 125lb? for showing off (this is how much force is needed to pull back the string, and thus how much force is put on the arrow on release)

so probably makeshift bows are around 20lb, while the exquisite bow is, idk. 50? more?? who knows. which is why he talks about needing to master one to get a stronger one

I don't have a punchline for this but I Do imagine he's got a 100lb bow which means he can hold 50lbs of weight per finger if he's drawing the bow with 2 fingers

also imo he's a good enough shot to get the Head Shot, which is theoretically the most painless kill, but he can do it bc of his intense empathy for the animals, which lets him predict their movement enough to aim where their head will be by the time the arrow gets there (arrows are slow)

also a headshot lets him use less broad arrows, which lets him have a smaller bow i think??

also, just a collection of bow details bc im horny for bows

bows are generally left unstrung when not in use to make sure they can relax into their natural shape and retain their power

stringing and unstringing a bow, especially recurves and heavy bows, is incredibly dangerous, especially unskilled. (consider even 20lbs of force suddenly hitting someone in the form of a stick or whip)

bigger bows can hold more power but are obviously much harder to carry around, which is part of why things like recurves and reflex bows exist, so the bow can hold more weight without being as large.

composite bows are bows made of multiple materials, if I remember right. a skilled weaponsmith can make the front, back, riser, and limbs in materials suited to them

things that get used in bow bodies that I did not anticipate: braided cords. antler. leather straps

when you make an arrow, it's ideal to harvest all the feathers from it off 1 wing, because you want the feathers to rifle around in the same direction

feathers and arrowheads are attached with carving, string, and glue in various degrees.

[crookedwolf1974]

Hm well not a terrible result but not amazing either but Norris win so I’m a bit mad so I guess I’ll post the snippet anyway? Not betaed and still under works so don’t take it too seriously, I just really wanted to write something that puts Lance in one of those medieval/renaissance dresses but then I had to go and make it ABO and put a whole bunch of YEARNING and possible PLOT in there so idk how long this will take me.

And after weeks of negotiations between the two most powerful families in the land, an agreement had been reached – Fernando would have the support, the gold, the men, the supplies and whatever else he needed for as long as he needed (within reason) for his campaign from the Marquess Stroll and his allies.

And in return, Fernando would marry his son.

His freshly presented omega son, not even two months on from his designation finally emerging. While most presented between the ages of 14 to 16, Lance Stroll had made it all the way to 18 years and 9 months before he’d finally collapsed in heat one morning out of the blue to the great shock of his family who’d well presumed that the boy would present as a beta or an alpha, same as his father. Omegas, especially male ones, were rare commodities – both revered and oft looked down upon for their nature and their bodies, both a blessing and a curse upon any family that one was born into.

At least the boy had been pretty to look at when he’d pulled up the veil and took in his new bride for the first time. A fair and even complexion made paler against the clean white of his dress and the darkness of his hair, red powder rouge dusted on his cheeks emphasizing the lovely sharpness of his face, and although it wasn’t in fashion someone had taken it upon themselves to draw some eyeliner on the corners of the omega’s eyes giving them an alluring definition, especially so when Lance had looked up at him through his lashes, head tilted down in submission as they kneeled at the altar facing each other and a priest droned on above them, a light pink eyeshadow of some kind over the under eye highlighting their doe-eyed roundness. Fernando’s mouth had gone dry at the sight as the omega stared at him, seemingly taking in his new husband for the first time as well and Fernando found himself hoping a little desperately that the omega liked what he saw, that even if there couldn’t be love between them in their marriage, there could at least be attraction, something to ease the way into a mutual cooperation – god, Lance was pretty. Put together and perfect in a way goddesses of beauty would weep to be, a vision so impossible on this earth that it would require a wrathful curse to even begin to fade it from the minds of alphas and men.

And now Fernando had it, the golden apple in his hands, and all he could do was stare like a fool at the way Lance’s plush, pink lips parted slightly in breath, as if to take in Fernando’s scent again, deeper, as if the red dusting high on his cheeks wasn’t just from the powder, as if he liked what he saw too, but then the priest had said his name startling both out of the moment (…bless this joining of his Majesty Fernando Alonso Diaz and Lord Lance Jacob Strulovitch, the alpha and the omega, as their hearts become one, to grant them faith in themselves and in each other, to never betray in their intimacy, and to put their utmost trust in each other in turn…), and the omega’s lips had pushed together into a thin, nervous line and he’d resolutely stared ahead for the rest of the ceremony refusing to meet Fernando’s eyes again so he could, what – offer a comforting smile? Gawk like an idiot again? So Fernando had looked off into the middle distance as well until they were prompted to say their I do’s (Fernando calm and collected and perhaps a tad resigned, but Lance had stumbled over his, a slight lisp to his accent born of his desire to be anywhere but here probably) and Fernando had felt a small pit of despair open in his chest when Lance refused again to meet his eyes for their kiss, barely more than a brush of the lips before they both drew back.

The smallfolk cheered and threw dried rice and rose petals over the pair as they excited the church and whatever food and alcohol that could be spared was distributed freely. Bells rang in the streets to announcing the joining and the air in the capital was light and freeing in a way it had not been since the first call for men had come and a flurry of activity to prepare for the army’s intending departure had begun, the tanning of pelts and the smoking of meat filling every street, the chattering of voices now closing over those cracks leaving them a hazy memory, even if just for today.

But neither husband nor wife said a word to each other as the carriage rolled through the capital into the castle proper, and neither alpha or omega said a word to each other all through the celebratory reception and dinner even though the King spoke plenty to advisors and diplomats and nobles and the new Queen Consort spoke a little to his sister towards the end of the night, but none to his father, which meant that by the time Fernando and Lance found themselves alone in the quarters they would share for the rest of their lives, facing the bed they would at least share for tonight, neither had spoken a word, touched, or even looked each other in the face for close to 10 and a half hours.

Fuck, Fernando thought, rubbing a hand over his face as Lance stood stock still at his side, both staring at the bed like it would suddenly come alive and attack both of them. Fuck.

He wanted a drink, but upon remembering the slight shake of Lance’s hands, the stutter of his words and the press of his lips when he’d looked away from Fernando in the church it had been made clear to him that he needed a sober and present mind for this, so even when it had been offered by his cousin, his sister, his closest friends and confidants, he’d politely refused with a smile, a laugh or a joke. At the fourth or fifth refusal he thought he’d felt Lance watching him but when he’d looked over the boy was seemingly engrossed in his food, seemingly quite invested in the food they were currently serving. It seemed that was one thing Lance spared all his energy for, and it had smoothed some of the off kilter feeling in his chest to know that he was at least providing for his omega in this way, showcasing the strength of his ruling and kingdom and to be able to indulge so lavishly right before a war (even if most of the wedding had been paid for by Lance’s exorbitant dowry but he conveniently skipped his brain over that part).

These are dress styles I had in mind btw!! Idk if they’re like historically accurate but I need you all to hold some version of the first three in mind here while you read this!! And then come talk to me👉🏻🥺👈🏻

[sanstropfremir]

What did you think of ten solo? 👀

screaming crying throwing up blowing myself up walking into the ocean laying facedown on the floor etc etc etc

he absolutely did not disappoint, not that i was expecting him to bc he has a very clear and fluid understanding of his abilities and what he wants as soloist. i was not expecting him to go the route of the other, but i think it was a perfect choice and it pulls on a lot of threads that are relevant to him as an artist and idol and also probably as a person as well. there's the most obvious parallel of idol as a manipulator, but the thread most interesting to me is this confluence of hiding in plain sight monster/queer/other that is quite a subversive take for an idol to come right out of the gate with. i suspect that he drew from a lot of personal experience for this, as being a foreign idol for so long undoubtedly has othered him in many ways, and he self described the 'nightwalker' monster look at the end of the mv as having 'a queer vibe', so.

[mmelolabelle]

Armand is someone who has been has been trained (in brothels, by Marius, and by 500+ years worth of life experience) to adapt himself to what the people around him want. Throughout seasons 1-2, different people get very different versions of Armand, depending on who they are and who’s retelling the story at the time.

It’s the primary way Armand protects himself, whether he’s a teenage sex slave or the oldest, strongest person in the room. It’s how he controls people. Fundamentally, it’s the only way Armand knows to make people love him (an approximation of love at least). Worse, it’s the only way Armand knows how to love — by twisting and contorting himself into whatever form he thinks his current obsession wants or needs him to be. He even does it to his victims for crying out loud.

And then here’s Daniel, who is constantly seeking authenticity and truth. Who’s bullshit detector is never “off”. Who cannot tolerate any kind of masquerade, manipulation or lie – no matter how kind or well intentioned. Not out of any moral or ethical objection, but because Daniel simply cannot leave things well enough alone once something attracts his attention. He has to know. He has to see where it goes and how it ends.

“It’s my job, I’m built this way”

“It’s in your nature, Mr Molloy. Couldn’t get out the door without lobbing one more bomb.”

Daniel knew something was off about “Rashid” from the beginning, so he began to pick the situation in Dubai apart until Armand revealed himself. And then he kept going until he completely destroyed the narrative Armand had spent 77 years constructing.

Daniel deliberately and systematically pulled “Armand, Amadeo, Arun” apart and laid him bare with nothing but but a laptop, some free time, a near-suicidal disregard for his own personal safety and a mouth that just wouldn’t quit.

There’s power in being seen, in being known, ugly parts and all. What would it feel like, to be completely exposed like that for the first time in centuries?

So yeah it makes sense to me that Armand, who puts on all these acts and artifices to draw people in, but which only serve to ensure they’re kept at a distance, would turn his big sad orange eyes on the person who blew them all to smithereens and be all “…I wanna do this forever, actually.”

[hannieehaee]

Hi!! Could you do a fic where Jeonghan is being the menace that he is, but his partner is the only one who can quell him with one look pls? Like he is just super soft w her and always listens cos he’s a simp?

content: simp!jeonghan, established relationship, afab reader, slightly suggestive, etc.

wc: 1156

a/n: this was based on that one scene from nana tour in which jeonghan basically waterboarded mingyu for absolutely no reason (ik he was on a mission but he drenched him ?!\>\£). hope u enjoy <3

masterlist

jeonghan was always known to be a bit of a menace by all his friends.

well, maybe even more than just his friends. after all, there was a reason why he was often called the loki of seventeen by many of his fans.

he was simply a bit unconventional in the ways in which he found entertainment, such as the time in which he berated dokyeom into searching for bugs for them to eat on the streets. he simply had a tendency for bugging his members (out of love, of course), becoming an extra obstacle in their lives just for the fun of it.

now, jeonghan also had a heart of gold and far too much love for his brothers to ever actually cause any harm to them. however, after over a decade of knowing his brothers, he had somehow conditioned them to accept his odd behaviors and simply go along with his shenanigans whenever he felt like acting up.

you, as well as his members, always found great entertainment in his weird behaviors. i mean, it takes a great man to be able to cheat his way through every single game without consequence.

despite finding humor in his ways, you would sometimes have a tendency to put a halt to it. a simple whine of 'hannie!' would have him stopping in his tracks and murmuring against your ear as he whined back but relented at you. what you didn't know, however, was that you were the only person who held this power over jeonghan (even his sister would occasionally fall victim to his menacing ways).

today was one of the many instances in which jeonghan grew bored while at practice, deiciding to wreck havoc just for the hell of it. it was easy for him to spot a victim, – it was usually mingyu – which then lead him to approach him with the illest of intentions. there was never much thinking that went into teasing his members. it was just second nature to him by now. so when he eyed the water bottle in mingyu's hand, even the other members who were standing nearby could see what jeonghan's next move would be.

he was patient with it; engaging in conversation as he usually would as to not draw suspicion. jeonghan realized in that moment that maybe his instincive need to bug mingyu for no reason might be something to look into, but that would come some other day. for now, he wanted a quick laugh.

jeonghan saw his opening the moment mingyu uncapped his bottle and brought it to his lips, taking advantage of his calculated proximity to tilt the end of the bottle in order to drench mingyu's face, causing the man to almost choke on the water he'd been drinking.

as expected, this began a mini war between the two boys, as five minutes later they were both attacking each other with any and every water bottle they could find in their vicinity, even going as far as causing collateral damage to a few of the other members. what jeonghan hadnt planned, however, was a sudden visit from you, who had walked in just as jeonghan squirted yet another water bottle directly at mingyu's face.

"jeonghan!", you scolded as soon as you were in earshot, "leave him alone, you got him all drenched!", you were now standing next to the group, frown on your face as you took in the scene.

"baby? what are you doing here? did you–"

"don't 'baby' me. why are you bugging mingyu again? look at him! he's completely wet."

"i got water in my eye!," whined the tall man, taking advantage of your defense for him.

by now, a few of the members nearby were snickering at the swift turn of events, entertained by not just the water fight but the way in which you immediately sided with mingyu rather than your boyfriend.

"i'm wet too! how do you know he didn't start it?", tried jeonghan, knowing full well that the idea was unconvincing.

"hannie, don't lie to me."

"okay, fine. i got bored, okay? it's just water, baby. it's fine. right, mingyu?"

"dude, you fucked up my hair," mingyu didnt seem truly offended, but more so wanting to feed the flames now that he had an opportunity. jeonghan could tell by the slight smirk on his face.

the frown remained on your face, continuing to come in mingyu's defense for some reason unknown to jeonghan.

"jeonghan, apologize to him."

"what?", his wide and incredulous eyes turned to look at you, ignoring the snort he was pretty sure seungkwan had just let out.

"you heard me."

"but–"

"hannie!"

"f– fine," like a petulant child, jeonghan turned to mingyu and gave him a forced smile, "i'm sorry for getting you wet, gyu."

"than–"

"thank you", you interrupted the man.

jeonghan couldnt help but feel scolded by you. it was rare that you actually ever went against his shenanigans, but he did know he could sometimes go a little extra hard on mingyu due to mingyu's disposition to put up with jeonghan with no complaint (usually even fighting back). he was a bit embarrassed by the way in which you sided with him and even berated him in front of his members, but he also knew he could never say no to you, so apologizing just seemed logical to him.

after a few moments of him whining at his members to mind their business and go get their own girlfriends, he dragged you away to a less polluted corner of the practice room to get some one-on-one with you.

"babyyyy," he immediately pouted at you, proceeding to attaching to you like a bear, burying his head into your neck.

"hannie, you're all wet!", you complained despite making no move to push him away, even wrapping your arm around him and running a hand through his damp hair.

"why'd you have to do that? the boys are supposed to think you're obsessed with me," he frowned against your neck.

despite the whine behind his words, you could feel the vibration of his giggles against you and the smile pressed against your neck. as per usual, he was just whining because he could; something which you always found an endearing result to any rare instance in which you'd scold him.

"they're all gonna think im a simp now," he continued.

you giggled at that, causing him to sway you back and forth as he buried himself even deeper against you.

"are you not?", you inquired.

"i am, but they dont need to know that!"

"you're so annoying ..."

"yeah, but you find it fun, don't you?"

"im not at liberty of releasing that information."

he laughed against your neck, reaffirming to himself how much he liked the back and forth between the two of you, even if it meant relenting to you every single time, earning himself the title of simp among his members.

[ane-doodles]

Make it turquoise!

Cult of the Lamb Narindersona and Lambsona :D

Special thanks to @linkerbell for motivating me to draw, name and finally share them

Below information extracted from a conversation on discord:

Aneerinder:

(Using he/him for this occasion)

I wanted to maintain both the theme of the felines and the god of death but with a bit of the Japanese aesthetic that I like and other details that I usually use in my drawings.

First, the species is still a serval (like my Narinder) but in white. The stripes and spots they have are painted by him himself, except for the ears and tail, which are natural.

Instead of just making him the god of death, I wanted to base him a little more on the idea of a prophet, who receives messages from the future and teaches them to others if you ask in the right way. He is considered the writer of destiny, even though as such it is outside his area, how someone lives or dies is outside his power, he only receives them and archives the stories of their life.

Based on this idea of a writer/illustrator, the idea was born that his hands would function as a writing instrument (similar to this character in the movie 9 who had pen(? fingers to write). Constantly gushing ichor from these using them as ink…

Jumping to the moment of imprisonment hehehe

He is partially blinded using a paper talisman behind his head. To prevent it from being able to write or create something with the ink/ichor, it is surrounded by water, so that the ink always runs.

He also ends up being immobilized with red ropes as an allegory to the "red thread of destiny", especially his right hand is especially tangled to prevent him from continuing to "write the destiny of the gods". To prevent the ropes from breaking there are also paper talismans hanging from them.

In short, prevent him from writing/drawing in any way in order to keep the destiny of the gods in his hands. He ends up becoming dependent on other senses, little talking, much listening.

He loves stories, after all his job as a god is also to record the lives of mortals.

Their followers could ask for glimpses of their futures, which were considered predictions.

When someone dies and reaches the other side, they are given a scroll with a copy of the record of their life.

I'm still thinking about how to draw him, but if I design a shape for him as a follower, I'll most likely end up wearing glasses to see.

You will never in your life get him to close the haori he usually wears.

Aniki:

Ok lamb, she/her this time

The lamb genocide occurs during an expedition trip. She coincidentally returns to her village the day it is destroyed. Easily resigned, once she finished digesting the idea that she was the last of her kind she had no choice but to move on.

She's not built for combat, she's even terribly bad at dodging (like me qwq) which is why she dies often.

[Here I have an inside joke in which the god tells her "I may be blind, but I clearly see a lot of death in your future" jsjsjs]

Their crusades mainly consist of collecting resources and trading with traders.

She is very good at managing the cult, to the point where in the first five years it was already self-sustaining. She is also usually quick to meet the demands of her followers and thereby increase the faith of the cult, avoiding at all costs giving sermons because she is too shy to do so. Despite this, in casual conversations with cultists he often talks about the god of death in a way that unconsciously raises their faith.

She never takes the cult on herself, because she couldn't be interested in the idea of taking that burden on herself, which is why all the cult's statues and decorations revolve around the cat.

Now, having a self-sustaining cult and a faith that is constantly growing, she ends up having too much free time, so she spends her time putting together a collection of objects she finds around, making decorations for the cult, playing and exploring.

When she dies she tells stories of common events that occur in the cult, and in return the god tells her stories of past lives that have reached his domain. They have a constant exchange of stories which is what allows them to get closer.

She changes over time (new design yipee) and the crown upon returning to the god grants her a blessing in which she becomes the "eyes of god"

The new design only has some minor changes from the original.

Since she never had the ambition to take power, divinity never affected her.

She only had small surges of devotion and power that made her possessed by the god and that way she was able to defeat the bishops (similar to what a writer would do with his characters)

[sheoh]

Who in Ateez Is Most Gentle In Bed? 

Gentle  

San

Yeosang 

Jongho 

Seonghwa 

Mingi 

Hongjoong 

Yunho 

Wooyoung 

Rough

I truly believe San would be the most gentle lover. He would never want to hurt you EVER. especially during sex. I feel like even if you asked him to be a little rough with you he’d be VERY hesitant, or at least a little awkward as he attempted to regulate exactly how much strength you could take. you'd have to really communicate with him about it because he knows his strength could possibly really hurt you. Sometimes when you are making out he’d be a little forward or rough (the kind to push you up against the wall but protect your head and neck the entire time) he’d always take extra care to not inflict any pain on you. When kissing, San likes to put his hand over your throat, but he never implements a significant amount of strength. It kinda sits there teasing you, leaving you wanting more. he would find it cute if you did it to him but a little rougher (to show him how you actually wanted it) and ultimately wouldn't go through with it tbh lol. he likes the idea of exerting power over you but is extremely gentle in his way of doing it. When you're riding him and he’s close to cumming, he’d debate losing control, flipping you right on your back and fucking you hard and fast just to please himself (which he might just do if the atmosphere is right) but he always puts your pleasure and comfort over his own. if he notices that you're enjoying yourself, he will likely just squeeze your ass, praise you for doing so well between open-mouthed moans and roll his eyes back while you milk his cock slow and steady. 

Yeosang is naturally a very gentle person. I feel like that wouldn’t change much even with his partner. He’d acknowledge that sex doesn’t always have to be slow and gentle and take into consideration your wants as his partner. when you reach a certain point in the relationship he'd almost expect to start fucking baselessly for pleasure rather than to have a deeper connection—ofc he would never directly bring this up, and if it didn't happen he would think he was doing something wrong. He’d find himself slowly being more rough with you to see the reaction it draws out. Things like pushing your hips all the way down while you’re riding him and holding them there for a few seconds too long. Unlike San, who has sex in an intimate, gentle, and loving way most of the time, Yeosang feels that pleasurable sex is both gentle and rough and desires both sides. Whatever you’re comfortable with, so is he—but it’ll take some time for him to open up sexually and be rough with you for the sake of his own needs. His “rough side” is pretty low-key. He isn’t too freaky but I can see him being into things that exert his strength and masculinity. Like lifting you up and down on his cock while standing or you on your knees in front of him, in pretty lingerie giving him head. I can definitely see him grabbing your hair and guiding your head back and forth on his dick. 

Jongho is very aware of how strong he is and what he can do to you. He’s not necessarily overly rough or overly gentle with you. But he’s definitely not afraid to play fight with you and show you who's the stronger one. I believe Jongho is just a gentle person in general. His strength is very fixed so whether he’s angered or reaching his climax inside you, it’s rare for him to “lose control” or be rough on accident. I don’t think he likes hurting you in any way during sex, he might even be opposed to it. He would consider it if you asked him but as far as feeling pleasure from it-- isn’t necessarily his thing. If you got off on it, he’d be more into the fact that you are. Wrapping his hand around your throat during your high, and forcefully holding your hands behind your back as he gave you back shots are things he’d try but I just think he likes the idea of gentle loving sex more. The reason he’s under Yeosang, despite not really being into it as much, is because he could seriously fuck you senseless if he wanted. He has the control to give you exactly what you want, and well.

Just like San, Seonghwa is very gentle towards his lover. But unlike San, he’s down and very open to the freaky stuff. If you want to do it, so does he. I don’t see him ever being purposely rough with you unless you directly asked him and he knew you’d return the same energy. Even when he’s at his climax about to cum, a whimpering mess on top of you, he’d find himself holding back a bit. Putting in the effort to pleasure you without expecting you to do it in return. gripping the sheets instead of your hair as you suck him off (unless ofc you wanted him to). I can see him holding back your hair while you give him head, staring down so intently at your lips as they wrapped around his cock. The type to touch your body like it was made of glass, but fuck and eat you out like you are anything but. Seonghwa is a very gentle person too but he likes being able to be rough with you and try new things sexually. 

Mingi is kind of laid back when it comes to the physical and sexual side of a relationship. Things like caressing your thigh, kissing your neck, or just touching you all the time is his love language and aren’t always meant to be sexual. Which is why it’s sometimes hard to tell when he’s horny or just harmlessly flirting. Those kisses and touches come naturally during sex with him because it is nothing new. But of course, when he’s more aroused he tends to be unconsciously rougher—kissing you passionately instead of lazily, tightening his grip on your waist harder and harder as you grind on his erection—and being overly gentle with you after he realizes what he was doing. Mingi is seriously a gentle giant but when he’s comfortable enough, being playful or in the moment, he can sometimes forget how much strength he has and how easily he can break you. I don't think he likes being rough but it does happen whether he intends or not. I can't see him going as far as to choke you or use sex toys. rather something low-key like biting you or completely slam-dunking you onto the bed in attempts to impress you. He doesn't like you being overly rough with him either. like hair pulling or scratching his back so hard you leave marks because he is a princess after all.

Hongjoong isn't exactly rough or gentle–somewhere in between. He does like exerting dominance during sex though, which may lead to him being more bossy or rough. but naturally, he’s pretty sensual and wants you both to be relaxed and comfortable. When experimenting sexually with him, which happens quite often, he tends to talk you through it and ask how he's doing. If you want it rougher he’ll go rougher, but if it's too much for you he’ll stop immediately, ask if you’re ok, and take a mental note. Communication is key with him, you have to tell him what you want and he'll do whatever pleases you. I don't think Hongjoong particularly likes or even considers receiving/giving pain during sex, but he is sometimes (accidentally) a little rough. When he pushes your legs open a little too harshly to go down on you or is about to cum and begins franticly pounding into you from his once steady pace. he is a bit confused as to why you wanted him to do it more, but he actually lowkey likes it. he finds himself liking the feeling of you doing exactly what he says. sitting down and opening your mouth for his cock exactly when he tells you. Again, this dominance can lead to him being rougher with you but it's not on purpose...i don't think

Yunho has a lot of layers in a relationship. His more sensual side is particularly special because it’s something you rarely see. I don’t think Yunho is overly gentle but I do think he's aware of his size and strength enough to never accidentally use it during an intimate time like sex. In moments when he thinks you’d like it a bit rougher, he’d play along. I think he might even enjoy being rough with you and the power he has doing it. Using his body to pin you down on the bed, using his strength to stop you from getting off his lap bc he wants you to stay longer, using his significantly larger hands to pin them above your head as he kisses you. Yunho is possessive and takes that out on you in bed especially. Yunho sees sex as mainly something to fulfill pleasure, so jealous sex, sex after being away from each other for a while, and sex after a fancy dinner date when you're all dressed up–are things that really get him going and more rough and needy for you. When you tell him to go rougher he’d do it without hesitation. Tell him to choke you and he’d flash a smirk down at you before wrapping his large hands over your throat and squeezing. He’d continue to be rough with you unless you say otherwise but he knows your limits and is very careful not to go too far. 

Last but not least our sadist Wooyoung. He’s not gentle in bed. He loves when you’re rough with him and acts rough with you in return. He loves fucking you so hard and fast from the back and slapping your ass as you moan out his name. He likes when you yell and whine to him about something stupid he did just so he can apologize by giving you the sloppiest head of your life. Pull his hair, tell him to wrap his hands around your throat and he’ll get off on watching you and seeing just how much you can take before you "admit defeat". for toys and kinky objects I can see him wanting to try them if you like or dislike them. The only time I see him being gentle in particular is when eating you out, he would be gentle and sensual, trying to tease you and make you beg him to go faster and harder—ofc he he won’t do it. but this doesn’t always happen, he’ll often moan into sloppy wet kisses on your cunt, move his fingers quickly in and out of you, grip your thighs so hard to keep you still it leaves marks. He’d sometimes kiss you gently and slowly when the kiss isn’t really leading to anything. If you got him a gift for his birthday, he’d thank you with the sweetest, slowest, most gentle kiss. You feel so much when he kisses you like this because it doesn’t happen often.

[banj0possum]

umm is it possible to get a yandere! male!siren x shy!gn reader?

Fish Bait

Yandere!Siren x GN Reader

CW: Kidnapping, assault, minor stalking, murder, thalassophobia maybe?

🌊 You are quite shy when it came to talking to people. You found the whole 'socializing thing' a bit overwhelming considering how rough and loud the rest of the people in your academy was.

🌊 You much preferred staying by the shore with a nice book or drawing book to enjoy the sound of the waves with. The ocean breeze and wailing of seagulls never failed to relax you.

🌊 One day, you heard the strange sound of splashing by the tide pools along the more rocks area of the shore. You thought it was a fish or some other animal that got stuck in one of the pools after the tide retreated and got up to help it out.

🌊 But what you saw was no animal, well, half animal. In one of the pools was a man with the lower half of a fish, his scales glistened wondrously as it splashed in the water.

🌊 The man looked at you with wide eyes and froze. You put your hands up to show you meant no harm.

🌊 "Please! Spare me! I just want to go home!"

🌊 "Calm down! I won't hurt you!"

🌊 He shook with fear as your hands drew closer to him.

🌊 You then pulled him up from the pool and carried him to the sea, he stares at you as you gently lowered him unto the water.

🌊 As soon as his tail was submerged in the sea, he swam out of your grasp and went a distance away from you, part of his head peeking out of the water as his red eyes looked at yours.

🌊 "Well...safe travels.." You mutter, wading back to shore, but the merman peeks his mouth out the water and shouts to you.

🌊 "You're not going to ask anything in return?"

🌊 You look back. "Uhm..no, I'm fine, thanks anyway.."

🌊 "Hmm, you know...you can come with me to my home. I'll grant you the power to breathe under water and you can enjoy the treasures I have there. What do you say? It's the least I can do for what you've done for me!"

🌊 "Nah, I'm good. Be safe though, I heard theres pirates that hunt merfolk nowadays..." You continue your way to shore but the merman swims quickly to your side.

🌊 "Don't you want to be rid of those insolent fools you call schoolmates? I can give you a life people only dream of!"

🌊 "I'm not really..interested..."

🌊 "...You're not?"

🌊 "Yeah..."

🌊 "...Oh..uh..ok...wow-um..well, bye I guess..." The man stutters before sinking his head back into the water.

🌊 You sigh, that was some encounter. You doubt you'd run into something like that again...

🌊 Boy howdy you were wrong.

🌊 You'd spot the strange boy again and again, always hiding back behind the rock or piece of driftwood he was watching you from.

🌊 Sometimes you'd also find trinkets and beautiful stones laid on the shore. You never took them though; you didn't want to take something someone probably lost. The merman would grumble to himself every time you ignored his baits.

🌊 You'd also see him again trapped in the pools, feigning sorrow that poor little him got stuck again during another low tide. What ever shall he do?

🌊 Your days would go on like this, the merman desperately trying to lure you into the sea but to no avail due to your shy and polite nature.

🌊 Him basically stalking you turned to him directly talking to you and trying to get you to go with him in the water.

🌊 "Oh dear, I've been stuck at this reef for ages! I just can't get out! Could you help me please? I promise not to drown you!"

🌊 "No thanks, I'm on the last chapter of my book..."

🌊 "My, my, it's so lonely in the ocean, not a playmate in sight, come down with me so we can really get to know each other yeah?"

🌊 "I don't really wanna get my clothes wet..."

🌊 What you thought was a potentially dangerous creature of the sea became a whiny, attention-seeking drama queen.

🌊 Eventually, you'd learn his name is Caspian. He gave up a bit on trying to lure you and settled on making small talk with you.

🌊 Most of your conversations would revolve around your cultures, how you two lived compared to eachother.

🌊 "So those silver things with teeth aren't combs? Interesting...tell me more!"

🌊 He more or less looked up to you because of the knowledge you'd tell him, even though it was all basic things ever human knows, but he wasn't a human so, I guess it's alright.

🌊 He'd try to crawl onto shore to see what you were reading or drawing. You'd have to scoot away from him because he was dripping wet, and you didn't want your paper to get soiled.

🌊 Please read to him! He loves it when you read out loud the books you bring!

🌊 Life seemed pretty content with you having a friend to talk to, one who's not judgmental of your quiet personality.

🌊 That was until one day, you heard laughing and shouting from your usual spot.

🌊 You saw your classmates, waist deep in the water trying to drag Caspian to the shore, the merman snarling and biting the air around him angrily as the bullies degrade and laugh at his attempts to wriggle out of their grasp.

🌊 "Look at this, boys! With this ugly thing we can buy the whole pub if we wanted to!"

🌊 "H-hey! Leave him alone!" You shouted, dropping your things as you ran to help your friend, but one of them punched you with in the face and grabbed you, about to hit you again.

🌊 "What? You're gonna let this siren kill everyone that comes to this beach? God you're dumb! No wonder why you have no friends!"

🌊 He was about to give another blow when you both heard a shrill cry from the ocean.

🌊 The water pooled with crimson as only the splashing of limbs can be seen form the shore, cries and gurgles are heard from the writhing gore. Your classmate rushes into the water to save his friends before the violent splashing stops and the red patch of bloody water extends towards him and around him until you see him get yanked below into the water, a splash of a fish tail verified in your mind that it was Caspian.

🌊 You could feel your heart pounding as you see the siren lift its head from the water, his blood red eyes staring at you again with razor sharp teeth bared.

🌊 "P-please...don't hurt me..I didn't lead them to you I swear!" You cried as he crawled to your shivering form.

🌊 You held your breath as he pulled you in a wet hug, your clothes getting stained by the salty, bloody water.

🌊 "Oh my darling~ I know you would never hurt me~ But we're not safe here anymore..I fear I'll have to take you somewhere safer...somewhere away from those disgusting creatures."

🌊 You couldn't even react before you were pulled into the water forcefully, you kicked and swam all you could to get him to let go of you, but soon enough, your whole body was under the water. The only thing that was left of you were your things by the sand, and bubbles that rose to the surface before stopping.

🌊 "You'll be safe here my love, my most wonderful treasure~"

this one was by far one of my favorite bois ive written, he's so mhmhmghghghmmmhmhmmhhh

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

Thinking about…

Alastor and Bill Cipher after the same s/o (headcannons)

Hazbin Masterlist // Disney Masterlist // Navigation

Warnings: Obsessive behavior! Alastor being sadistic, Bill being a bit weird because duh, wrote this with Human form Bill Cipher in mind, mentions of death

A/N: I really like this dynamic, even though it’s kind of crazy and a lose lose situation for the reader, but it’s still interesting to write about. I hope you all enjoy!!

Alastor

• Alastor isn’t just charming; he’s obsessed with making you see him as the ultimate catch. He meticulously plans every interaction, ensuring that you are always impressed and feel valued. Every compliment and gesture is calculated to win your heart.

“Why there’s that smile I love to see my dear! Ever the beauty!”

Alastor can’t stand the thought of you being attracted to anyone else, especially Bill. He tries to mask his jealousy with his usual grace and horribly timed jokes, but it’s evident in the subtle digs he takes at Bill whenever you mention him.

When Alastor is alone with you he’s not above grand, romantic gestures. Picture him serenading you with an old-fashioned love song or setting up a beautiful, intimate dinner where he pours out his feelings and tries to convince you that he’s the best choice for a partner and way better than bill in all aspects of the word.

Alastor’s affection for you is deeply strategic. He genuinely cares, but he’s also careful in how he shows it. He’ll often try to subtly make you see how a relationship with him would be beneficial, not just for personal pleasure but for gaining power and influence. He’s a very strong man and his image is important, what’s not to want about him?

“Don’t you love this view dear? We could be here all the time, if you wished.”

Alastor envisions a future where you are by his side, helping him dominate Hell. His feelings are not just about the present but about creating a powerful, enduring relationship. He dreams of ruling Hell together, and he’s willing to go to great lengths to make that vision a reality.

But not all things with Alastor are good, you know how much he HATESSSS modern technology and well, it’s how the world runs now. this is something Bill definitely used against him

“Don’t get intimated by a big screen deer man!”

Though he hates how Bills joke makes you laugh, his smile tightens nonetheless

Alastor will often put doubts into your mind about Bill. He is partially right, so it does make you wonder…

“What if he were to suddenly get tired of you? My dear, he’s traveled galaxies and destroyed universes. You wouldn’t want to be subject to that would you?”

or maybe something like,

“That little shape is no better than a toddler. He can’t even take proper care of his toys, breaking them when he gets bored. How pitiful.”

Bill Cipher

Bill is intensely infatuated with you. His feelings might come across as chaotic and erratic, per usual, but underneath, he’s deeply drawn to your spirit and individuality. He finds your uniqueness thrilling and wants to be the one to make your life as unpredictable and exciting as possible.

“ Wanna see this guy dance with his eyes hanging out of his sockets? Gotta tell ya’ you’ll never see anything like it ever!”

Bill’s way of showing affection is through wild and flirtatious chaos. He might sweep you into a whirlwind of bizarre, fantastical experiences, always with an underlying flirtation that makes it clear he’s very interested in you.

Bill knows how to push Alastor’s buttons. He often uses his chaotic antics to draw your attention away from Alastor, playfully teasing him and making a show of his own appeal. For Bill, it’s not just about romance; it’s about proving he’s the more exciting option, you’ll never be bored of him!

Despite his chaotic nature, Bill genuinely wants a deep connection with you, even if he does have a weird way of being about it. He’s drawn to your complexity and wants to show you that his brand of chaos can be both thrilling and deeply meaningful. He might surprise you with moments of surprising sincerity.

Bill is not afraid to take big risks to win you over. He’s willing to gamble with the very fabric of reality just to create memorable moments. His love is unpredictable and intense, and he hopes you will find that thrilling rather than overwhelming.

Bill is the type of guy to take you to a different reality for a date, wanna go watch marshans fight? no problem! upset about something? let’s go to this dimension where you can blow anything up!

He’s definitely got jokes though, and he’s good at them too

“Hey furry, why don’t you cut that loose part of your hair? OH wait, it’s your EARS!”

Bill is no fool though, he sees EVERYTHING, so it’s really difficult to hide things from him, which means being with him also means you losing your privacy.

“He’s a sociopath dove, you can’t really believe that radio freak actually likes you right?”

He isn’t wrong, Alastor has proven multiple times he keeps people around because he needs them for something, and Bill loves this

“What if you don’t satisfy him? What if he decides you’re not worth being with?”

or maybe he’ll say

“ You never know dove, what if he’s just after your soul? Maybe he likes the fact you put up a good fight, eh?”

Both demons have their crazies to them. Picking Alastor means Bill might destroy your dimension and maybe rearrange his molecules. But picking Bill means watching Alastor rip hell to shreds at your expense, hurting anyone and everyone to get you, maybe even threatening whoever you love.

Dating Alastor means you can kind of live a normal-ish life

Dating Bill means you keep your dimension

[itsybitsybatsyspider]

I rewatched the Dragon Prince recently since season 6 is coming out next month (WOOOOOO) so naturally i had to put my most recent blorbos in a The Dragon Prince Au

second part :)

Dragon Prince au masterpost

(drawing notes under the cut if you wanna hear my rambling about the designs!)

Jack

so Jack is a Skywing elf mage-in-training because the power set of Sky mages seems to match Jack's powers the closest. They create gusts of wind, storms, can fly, breathe ice breaths, and frost touches. It was a tough choice between that or a Moonshadow elf, what with the whole invisibility thing, but i just can't imagine Jack not being able to fly :/

And even though most Skywing elves dont have wings, i gave him the wings because vibes and because i can

i did add some moon opal charms to his staff though, so he can do some small moon spells

Toothless

i wanted to adjust some of the details to Toothless's design because i didn't want it to be a 1-to-1 of his design in HTTYD. I noticed the dragons in Xadia all have snouts, horns, and muscled forelegs, and i tried to incorporate some of that to Toothless. With a narrower head and longer legs and more hand like claws.

I added more prominent scales, nose plates (like the storm dragons in TDP) and tried to add more horns to spots on his legs and wings.

I also made Toothless a lot bigger than he is in the HTTYD universe because those Xadian dragons?? Excuse me?? Even a common one is still pretty huge!

There's also a dragon that exists in the Dragon Prince universe called a Midnight Dragon, and it's connected to the Moon Arcanum! They're said to have pitch black scales and are sensitive to light, so i thought it was fitting for Toothless. There weren't any pictures of the dragon tho so i kinda just made the design as i went.

Hiccup

i tried using costume designs from both the first two movies, with the vest, the belts, and the pant pattern.

colors took me longer to figure out, because i wanted to have some red (like in RttE) along with the greens and browns. Overall though im happy with how it turned out!

I think Hiccup would be the son of Commander or General Stoic in the Katolis army some years before or during the events of The Dragon Prince/Mystery of Aaravos.

These designs are for early in the story, before Hiccup loses his leg and when he meets Toothless for the first time. Definitely thinking that him and his village are known for their handling of dragons and elves in the region and then Hiccup shoots Toothless down just like in the movie. But as they become friends, Jack finds them and misunderstands the situation and thinks Hiccup is going to kill Toothless.

So that'll be fun >:)

[dcxdpdabbles]

Heyo! I've been loving the content! Especially new management, that was a phenomenal read. Was wondering if you had further thoughts or scenes on it or on the Single Dad Au? I think the only story I like better than these two is congratulations, it triplets!

Adore your work! Phenomenal!

Damian did not trust Daniel Fenton.

The man pretended like he wanted nothing from his Father besides his heart—not his wealth, not his influence, not his company, and not even his vast amount of skills.

Even Damian's mother—who was in love with Father for a time—could not conceal the knowledge that marrying Father would elevate her position in Grandfather's eyes. There was a time when Damian believed love—the romantic type—was not real, that it was unnecessary.

Since his arrival at Wayne Manor, he's learned to acknowledge that love does exist, but he still believes it's never unconditional. He knows that Fenton has to be after something. He attempted to find the answer, but as loath as he was to admit it, Damian had not detected any hit of what Fenton was after.

His hours of surveillance on the man only showed him that Fenton enjoyed writing for his silly little book series- a fantasy novelist how quant- but was self-published and did not attempt to get father to fund him

. Fenton also spent much time with his daughter but seemed happy to support her in anything she wanted as long as she put in the effort, so he was not after Father influenced her. Fenton had no interest in Wayne Enterprises, often looking a tad bored whenever Father spoke of it- not dismissive, just lost- which meant he wasn't after the company.

He discovered that Fenton lived modestly despite having a decent amount of funds. He was middle class and seemed rather happy to stay in the middle class.

Damian would have looked deeper into Fenton, but Father had caught on to his surveillance and had forbidden him from scaring away his lover. Knowing that he required backup, Damian had called a sibling meeting.

He was expecting better results than them just speaking about the benefits of Fenton and Father dating. They should focus on how to defend Father's heart once Fenton's true intentions become visible.

It wasn't that Fenton didn't love Father- or getting there- but he would have a darker side to him that Father was unprepared for. Damian was sure of it.

He just needed to find it.

That's why he approached the man's daughter. Indeed, she would open the opportunity to get closer to the man after his father without using his training to follow Fenton. Father could not fault his brilliant walkabout.

Damian was just not prepared for her to be more tolerable than the regular fools in Gotham. She was a fellow artist with a love of nature and travel.

She took him to different parts of Gotham, where they could find animals and wonderful buildings to draw. Dani also always shared her music—he didn't want to listen, but it allowed him to build a profile on her—and he found she also had an application for classical covers of pop music.

Dani also seemed so unbothered by anything. She moved as if she had never been weighed down by any issues. She was weightless but not lost. Seeing someone so at peace with themselves was odd, so Damian sometimes forgot why he was spending time with her.

Sometimes, he just relaxed with her and spoke to her, and really, she was far better than the fools his Father took in.

Dani one day asked if he would go with her to the mall. She wanted some new clothes, and Damian found that her style was rather artistic. This style also caused many stares from those close to their age.

He watched as she walked through the street, owning it with her presence and powerful, unchained personality. Then she acted like she didn't even care, though she definitely knew it.

That is why when she offered to help him buy an outfit, Damian agreed with far too much enthusiasm before she finished. He even wore it out of the store, feeling...like he got close to her unchained freedom. He kept glancing into the reflection of mirrors, a rish of glee at how great he felt in clothes that he would have scoffed at.

He also appreciated how people gawked at them as if they were the most fascinating thing they had ever seen. Damina enjoyed following beside Dani's stride, grinning up at her as she told jokes.

"Dude, it's crazy to think that if our Dads get married, we'll be siblings," she says one day, and Damian startles. She leans over, helping him adjust the beanie she got him, a more blurt red of her own, and Damian's eyes go very wide as she grins at him.

Damian's eyes go very wide.

He hadn't even thought of that.

He races home after she takes him to a slam poetry night, snapping her fingers with that interesting, peaceful, fully in-the-moment-without-stress personality of hers.

Damian kicks the door to Father's office and shouts, "Father, you must marry Daniel Fenton at once!"

He misses that Fenton is also there, sipping from a teacup. He'd never seen Father look that embarrassed before, either. Though Fenton seemed rather pleased, which helped his new quest of making Dani his new, much more enjoyable sister that left him in awe.

She promised to take him to her favorite store for more pastel goth outfits next week, too. Once her father marries in, they might turn it into a weekly thing.

[faesystem]

As an ambulatory wheelchair user I have so many thoughts about how people draw/write disabled!Scar. This is sort of a guide/insight from a disabled person about writing/drawing disabled people.

Specifically in regards to wheelchair users.

Do not get me wrong, this fandom is genuinely probably the best group of people I have ever seen when it comes to drawing wheelchairs. I do not believe I have ever seen Scar fanart where he is in a completely unusable, horrible, hospital chair. It is so clear people have taken the time and energy to research into wheelchairs and I love it. I am in no way saying stop that.

I just think people could maybe put a little bit more consideration into him being disabled beyond visual appearance.

I saw a really amazing artwork of SL!Scar and he is in a sports chair. Which is really cool, in many ways, as it shows some thought being put into the setting. If I were in combat, I would in fact like to not be knocked from my chair or have my chair tipped over.

Yet, you have very limited mobility in a sports chair. It is, by design, made to prevent you from tipping over. Which means that you are incapable of going over bumps, really, let alone natural terrain.

Just in general, there really is not any wheelchair that exists in our world that would allow wheelchair users to exist in a setting like the life series.

So, I have some ideas:

- Horses. Hands down my biggest suggestion. Especially with Secret Life they fit in very well with the setting, everyone uses them, and it fits the bill perfectly for what he would need. Especially considering Scar is an archer, it makes a lot of sense for him to be on horseback. It suits him and his style of fighting so well.

- Some sort of redstone power chair. There are all sorts of ways you could design something like this. Perhaps with pistons that push down against the ground, allowing for jumps. Perhaps just a series of pistions functioning as like a bunch of little spider legs. There are a lot of things you can do with that, you can get very creative.

- For my Vex!Scar lovers, you could have magic be used as a mobility aid. Perhaps a magic wheelchair, or perhaps a magic exoskeleton.

And with all of the ideas, considering how they fit into the setting really changes everything. What are the strengths? What are the draw backs?

With horses, they are strong and fast and agile. But they are big, it is hard to fit into small spaces, and they can be killed.

With some sort of redstone chair, I feel as though it would make sense for it to be robust and strong. Depending on how it is constructed, something fast and agile or perhaps something a bit slower and more clunky. Is it loud? How would stealth work in something like that?

When it comes to any sort of magic you do not want it to fix the disability. It is a mobility aid like any other. Not perfect, not the same as not being disabled, just another tool with its own unique draw backs. Perhaps magic is draining or it takes concentration. Would he tire quicker than others? Would he require food quicker than others? Is it possible for him to lose focus on it in a stressful situation, leaving him stuck until he can calm himself down?

Other things to consider are really specifically the setting as well as what disability you are giving him.

I feel as though on Hermitcraft an option like a redstone chair just makes a lot of sense. Multiple redstone chairs, even, all constructed differently for different uses. Such as ones for building. How does long distance travel work with the chair and how you lore your setting? Is it something he can put in his inventory? Is it something he remains in when using an elytra? Does that have any draw backs, such as being slower or needing more rockets or being less coordinated in the air?

I feel as though in the life series a mix of vex magic and horses makes a lot of sense. The magic is good for small spaces and short trips and emergencies, but it is too tiring to travel across the map with and too much effort to maintain when he needs to concentrate on battles. That would be where the horse comes into play.

As for what disability, well, it truly depends. Most of my rambles here have been based upon paraplegia, because I often times see people making him an ambulatory wheelchair user just because they do not know what to do otherwise.

Not that making him an ambulatory wheelchair user is a bad thing by any means. I am one and I adore reading stories like that. It is just a bit clear that a lot of you are quite lost as to how to navigate hurdles disabled people face, so you make it so he can walk over those hurdles. Which, once again, I am not shaming you for! This post is just to show there are other options

But in the case of him being an ambulatory wheelchair user: why is he one?

Mobilities aids are disabling unless you need them. You cannot access spaces or you do not have hands free or any number of things. What to the Scar you are writing makes using mobility aids helpful instead of a hindrance? What times are they more trouble than help, and what cost is there for not using it?

A good example is if Scar can walk around short distances with minimal difficulty/drawback, but long distances are painful or physically not possible.

Look into different disabilities and consider it. A lot of people tend to default to chronic pain because that tends to be quite a common one across a lot of disabled people, but there are a lot more different reasons why.

It could also be that he is very slow because of his disabilities. I have muscle weakness sometimes because of my FND, and it is like moving through sludge whenever I try and move.

It could also be that the mobility aids are a preventative measure. He does not need to use his wheelchair, unless he has done too much walking and then his body refuses to support his weight. He does not need to use his wheelchair, but when he does not he is a lot more likely to dislocate something and then yeah he can't walk. He does not need to use his wheelchair, but he is a fall risk especially after a lot of walking or running. Him being in his wheelchair prevents him from falling! (And if he's a fall risk, maybe he's strapped in too!)

I just have so many thoughts and I wanted to share them.

I see so many of you putting in effort already and it warms my heart. It is why I feel comfortable enough to make this post, because clearly you all care a lot about representing disabled people well.

:]

If you have read this far thank you so much. Let me know what you think or if you have any questions.

Edit: I made a rough redstone wheelchair design. It is one of the few reblogs that has comments, if you filter for that you should be able to find it. If not, reply to the post and I can send you the link to it. :]

[ckret2]

Chapter 55 of human Bill Cipher finally having a little fun for the first time in over a month of captivity in the Mystery Shack:

Bill does his level best to teach Mabel everything he knows about everything as fast as possible (while Ford eavesdrops). In the process, he finally reveals something about his home dimension!

But not everything about his dimension.

"Did you have rainbows in Flatworld?" Mabel had started drawing her shapesona again at the bottom of a fresh piece of paper. The heart was holding out one hand with several strips of glue shooting in a beam out from the palm; Mabel started shaking glitter onto the glue strips to make them rainbow.

"Not natural ones."

"Awww!"

"We could make them with flashlights and prisms, though."

"That's something." Still, it wasn't as cool as a real rainbow. She started carefully drawing Bill floating above her shapesona. (She probably should have drawn him before she put down glitter. She had to push up her sleeve and lift her wrist to avoid smearing the glue.) "When's the first time you saw a real rainbow?"

Bill didn't answer.

Mabel glanced at him. He had a hard look in his eyes. "Bill?"

####

For the first time in his life, the triangle was up—up but not north—in space, in the third dimension, looking down but not south at the plane where he'd spent his entire existence. It shuddered and rippled and cracked, contracting, as the entire universe crunched together around him.

Great walls of pale blue flame half a googol light years wide erupted into third dimensional space, where stars were caught and crushed between the quickly collapsing cosmic tectonic plates. He hadn't known his flat universe had stars of its own.

His home world shattered and crumbled, shrapnel and rubble spraying out, stone instantly pulverized into dust. Distant oceans rode the waves of the convulsing universe, flinging billions of gallons of water into space in a fine thin spray, glittering in the sunlight.

As the triangle watched, a great flickering rainbow ring formed in front of the ejected ocean, like the hollow eye of a hostile god staring at him in judgment.

He stared back.

And he felt himself fill with more and more and more power.

####

"Bill?"

"Sorry, I was trying to remember!" Bill sat back, laced his hands behind his head, and shrugged, "It's not coming to me. But I'm sure it was after I took charge of Dimension Zero. From time to time planets with weather systems would fall in through a wormhole, I must've seen a rainbow on one of them!"

"Oh." The answer disappointed her, but she couldn't quite put her finger on why. She puzzled over it as she drew a fireball shape around Bill's hands in glue and shook on pale blue glitter.

Bill nodded at the page, "So what are we up to?"

"Fighting evil! With rainbow lasers and... whatever that magic fire thing you do is!"

"Hey, superheroes! Sounds fun. Who are we killing?"

"Superheroes don't kill people!"

"Fine. Who are we sending to the hospital with third degree burns?"

"I don't know, I haven't made up a villain yet." She almost asked Bill what kind of monsters existed in his world; but the question died in her throat. That might be too depressing a question. She added a heart-shaped glue outline around her shapesona and shook on a glitter rainbow, and set the picture aside to dry. She grabbed a fresh paper and tried to imagine what a two-dimensional butterfly would look like. Would it just have flat little stick wings since that was more aerodynamic? That sounded boring. She started drawing a two-dimensional squid instead.

Bill studied Mabel's latest finished work—the glitter-outlined heart, the glitter rainbow laser, the glitter fire, and the plain him. After a moment, he casually mentioned, "I used to wear body glitter."

She blinked at him. "What?"

"Earlier you asked me about glitter in my dimension," Bill said. "Body paint was makeup to us. I wore it when I went dancing."

"WHAT!"

"And I'd cut open glow sticks to paint my arms and legs!"

"What color glitter did you wear?!"

"Usually gold."

"What?! Bill!" Mabel laughed. "You're already yellow!"

"But I didn't glitter. That's important!"

"You're boring."

"Shut up! I was gorgeous and I knew it! Why mess with perfection?!" He gestured down at himself, perfection, as though he'd momentarily forgotten what body he was in. "Listen, club fashion gets repetitive. If you've seen one equilateral in cutesy primary color gradients, you've see 'em all. There's beauty in simplicity—not a lot of shapes can pull off a solid color with a little light highlighting and still look flashy!" He'd sat up straighter, chest puffed out proudly, as he talked about how pretty he thought he'd been. "Buuut sure, sometimes I highlighted my points for fun. And to keep from stabbing people—it's hard for other people to judge distances with strobe lights on."

"What colors."

"Usually red, blue, or purple. You know—nice contrasts with gold."

Mabel grabbed another paper and started drawing Bill dancing. He leaned closer, elbows on the table, watching with more interest now. Mabel asked, "You had clubs with strobe lights?"

"Of course we did, we aren't barbarians." Bill picked up yellow and black markers out of Mabel's supplies, leaned over to her drawing in progress, and started adding a decorative border around the nearest edge of the paper in dots and dashes.

"What kind of music did you listen to?"

"It was... It's closest to the music in— You've never been to that dimension. Well, it kind of sounds like... I'll never hit those notes with human vocal cords." He drummed his fingers on the table. "Hold on. Let me get Questiony's piano."

####

It turned out that Flatworld club music sounded kind of like a broken tornado siren.

"It doesn't sound very good on a human piano," Bill said, giving the electric piano balanced on his knees a disapproving look. "The intervals between notes are tuned wrong, it's about four octaves short, and it's missing that tympanic membrane shredding tremolo when the treble jumps."

Mabel regarded the piano with some dismay. "Do you know how to play anything else?"

Bill sighed.

He played "Don't Start Un-Believing" for her. He even did that cool thing where you drag a finger up half the keyboard at once.

####

By now, Bill seemed a lot happier to answer Mabel's questions about his world; but she quickly worked out which ones he'd actually give a direct answer. He was the most free with science-y questions, hit or miss on the fun cultural questions, and instantly evasive when asked about his own life or uncomfortable political issues.

When she asked if shapes and their houses just kinda floated unattached to anything because they didn't have a home planet, Bill said they did have a home planet—hundreds of miles below, marking south by its gravitational pull—and they lived in the sky in between their planet and its rings. When she asked what kind of clothing they wore, Bill said they usually didn't wear anything, unless it was for practical purposes (gloves for gardening; goggles for chemistry; elbow-, knee-, and corner-pads for spelunking), and when she asked about his top hat he said slyly, "You mean my telescope?" and gleefully refused to explain further.

But when she asked if it was true that equilateral triangles were the lowest rung you could stand on before getting knocked off the social ladder altogether, Bill said that was a pretty rude question to ask a triangle. And then he said his world didn't have ladders.

When he casually let slip that he'd been able to see the third dimension when nobody else could, she asked how that was possible. He'd paused, looked up from his seventh completely incomprehensible drawing of an animal (she'd asked him whether Flatworlders had pets), and, with an eager gleam in his eye, he asked, "How much time do you have?"

####

Ford heard Bill's voice the moment he opened the door—"All right, star girl, pop quiz, let's see how much of that you kept in your noggin."

"Oh, I'm so ready!"

Baffled, Ford leaned in the living room doorway. The room was absolutely plastered in crayon-covered papers—illustrations, lists, mathematical and scientific diagrams—stars, cells, planets, vehicles. At the moment Bill was pointing at six papers taped together with a diagram on them that Ford thought was a Punnett square that had been expanded into a four-dimensional tessaract. "A polygon's sides are determined by...?"

"Genetic inheritance!" Mabel announced, the proud student who knew all the answers. "You have however many sides your parents have genes for!"

"And the idea that polygons increase by one side each generation...?"

"Is propaganda! Because if everybody hides their kids without enough sides, and they only talk about the kids that did go up a side, it makes everyone think that's what always happens and their family is the only one that's failing!"

"Perfect! And the highest natural amount of sides a shape can have?"

"Twelve! Decadoggins!"

"Close enough, dodecagons! But this isn't Greek class, I'll give you full points. So, any shapes with more sides than that got them through—?"

"Random mutation!"

"Correctamundo! Meaning the only way to get shapes with hundreds of sides is..."

"Crazy bonkers inbreeding! Because the same rich families just keep marrying each other!"

"With consequences including—?"

"Um..." Mabel puffed out her cheeks as she thought. "Skeletons getting all crackly, having a hard time making babies, and high—uh—infant morality!"

"Mortality."

"Lots of dead babies."

"Yes! And remember: when a mutation makes a body produce so much more of something than it needs that it starts harming the body, that's called...?"

"Cancer!"

"Meaning circles are...?"

"Tumors!"

"And what do we do with tumors?"

"EXECUTE THEM!"

"YES!" Bill ripped the Punnett tesseract off the wall. Behind it was a piece of paper that read, in blood red crayon, ANTI-MONARCHIST ANARCISM. "You're ready to man the guillotines! A+, star girl! Give yourself another sticker!"

"Yes!" Mabel peeled a sparkly purple star off a sticker sheet and stuck it on her cheek. Her face had over twenty star stickers.

Ford leaned against the living room doorframe, watching the scene inside with wonder. He was more than a little iffy about the political lesson—he, personally, was incredibly opposed to the idea that it was morally imperative to execute anybody with extra body parts, nobility or not—but the presentation of it was certainly captivating. It had been a long time since Ford had seen Bill like this. (It had been a long time since Ford would have trusted any lesson out of Bill's mouth.)

"Now let's get back to biangles." Bill picked up a fake crystal ball that he'd drawn various lines and shapes on with a marker.

"Awww, again?!"

"Hey. Listen," he said firmly. "I believe in you. You'll get it this time, I know it."

Ford looked around the room, taking in the scene more fully. The floor was scattered with drawings of aliens. A few of them were various polygons—regular and irregular, with the irregularities further broken down by whether they otherwise showed radial or lateral symmetry—each with thin limbs and an eye on a corner. Most were fantastical alien animals, a few that Ford had seen or been warned about on other worlds. Some had been scribbled out and redrawn when Bill's limited artistic capabilities didn't live up to his unknown standards; a few were in Mabel's art style, meaning Bill must have described them to her while she drew.

Twenty pieces of paper had been taped together on the wall behind the TV, with a drawing of a planet surrounded by a circular ring of small blobs—a planetary ring?—and a moon further out. The empty atmosphere between the planet and the ring was filled with squares and rectangles, which were grouped together in red blobby circles that were each labeled by letter: "Country △," "Country B," "Country C," "Country D (communists)," etc. A badly-drawn sea serpent slithered along the outside of the ring with the words "Here There Be Monsters" written over it.

A tall column of taped together papers was covered in examples of alien writing systems—some of them Ford recognized from his travels through other dimensions. From the ones he understood, it looked like the words were demonstrations of Mabel's name in dozens of alien writing systems. Sometimes Bill spelled her name Maybell or Mabelle.

And there were so many papers scattered around the room with little graphs and symbols and arrows Ford couldn't make sense of. And in the center of it all, Bill, alive, energetic, his full attention enthusiastically focused on his student.

Bill had to be up to something; but Ford couldn't imagine what, based on the bizarre assemblage of information in front of him. What nefarious purpose could be behind showing Mabel how to spell her name in alien languages? Unless his goal was to so enchant her with tales of other worlds that he could persuade her to help him open a new portal...? No, even for Bill that felt like a stretch. 

He looked at the wall again. Surely, that wasn't Bill's homeworld. Ford had spent years of his life trying to find the world Bill was from; surely Bill hadn't just drawn it in the middle of Ford's living room. Had he?

"Okay, let's start with spherical geometry from the top," Bill said, polishing the crystal ball on his leggings to rub off the marker lines. "Don't tell anyone I can do this." He held up the ball, tapped it twice on the bottom, and it hovered in place when he let it go, freeing up both his hands to hold a ruler and marker. (How long had he been able to do that? Had he even noticed Ford was standing right outside?) He drew a line across the surface of the ball, "Pretend it's a planet. If you draw a line on a sphere, it's obviously curved, right?"

"Right," Mabel said.

"But now pretend you're on the planet. The surface of the world is a flat plane to you. From your perspective, you can walk in a straight line from point A to point B."

"But it's actually a curve. From space."

"Now you're catching on. That's what makes spherical geometry a little weird: when you're on the sphere you treat everything around you like it's 2D even though when you're off the sphere you can see it's 3D." Why in the world was Bill teaching Mabel about spherical geometry?

Bill drew two more lines to connect to the first. "So! You can draw a triangle on a sphere, no problem, right?"

"Right."

"And something you can only do in spherical geometry... is... pretend this is the North Pole and the South Pole..." Bill carefully rotated the ball under his marker as he drew a straight line from one "pole" to the other, and then drew a second straight line from pole to pole next to it. "Ta-da! If a tri-angle has three angles, a bi-angle has two angles. You've got yourself a two-sided polygon. Right?"

Mabel hesitated. "Right."

"You with me so far, Shooting Star?"

"So far," she said, with a tone that suggested she expected that to change very soon.

"But if you try to transfer that shape from spherical geometry to Euclidean geometry—" Bill turned to an expanse of still partially-uncovered white papers taped to the wall like a makeshift whiteboard, drew two points, and drew two straight lines, red and blue, between the points, "—it just doesn't work. You can't see a biangle in a flat world."

And now Mabel was squinting suspiciously at him.

Bill said, "I lost you."

"But where does it go!"

Bill shrugged. "You lost it when you lost the third dimension."

"But you said when you're on the sphere it's two dimensional!"

"From your perspective it's two dimensional, but there's still a third dimension enabling the sphere to exist."

"Then from my perspective when I'm on the planet shouldn't a biangle look like that?" Mabel pointed at the two straight lines on the piece of paper. "Since everything looks all 2D to me? But it doesn't! It's like flying from the North Pole to the South Pole through America and then flying back through China! China and America don't just squish together into the same place just because you're going in a straight line on a sphere!"

"I'd kill to hear you give a geography lesson to a Flat Earther convention."

Mabel gave him her best angry scowl.

"It was a compliment! I think you'd inspire some hilarious arguments, that's all!" Bill put two dots on the paper and offered Mabel the marker. "Look, try it for yourself! Draw a biangle."

Mabel took the marker and, after a moment of thought, drew two curved lines between the points, making a football shape.

"Those aren't straight lines, kid."

"Argh!" Mabel pulled the paper off the wallpaper, bent it into a curve, and shakily drew a straight line between the two points; but no matter how else she twisted or bent the paper, she couldn't find a path that would let her draw a second straight line between the points without overlapping the first line she'd drawn. She crumpled the paper, tossed it on the floor, and whispered, "It's witchcraft, Bill."

He burst out laughing. "I could name a few horror writers that felt the same way about non-Euclidean geometry."

"But whyyy does the biangle disappear when it goes from a sphere to normal flat paper."

"Because..." Bill groped for an explanation he hadn't already tried. He crossed an arm across his chest and tapped a knuckle just under the bow tied in his hoodie's draw strings the way some humans might tap a hand to their chin, his eyes narrowed in thought. How many times had Ford seen him make that exact same face in his true triangular form, whenever Ford was struggling to understand a lesson on portal physics and Bill was struggling to find a way to translate it into concepts Ford had encountered in his human education? "Let's try this another way."

The scene made Ford ache.

Look past the paper and the crayons, and the graph- and figure- and writing-covered walls looked so much like the advanced physics lessons and blueprints that Bill had coated Ford's starry blue dreamscape in during his sleep. Look past the flesh and bone, and Bill moved and gestured and spoke the way he had when he was teaching Ford how to build a bridge between worlds.

It was the first time since Bill's death that Ford had seen 100% of his personality shining—unhindered by grief, secrets, or a disdainful human audience. It was the first time in decades that Ford had seen Bill at his best.

In that moment, for a split second, Ford forgot how to hate Bill. He couldn't see Bill the traitor, Bill the invader, Bill the homicidal party animal. The only person in that room with Mabel was Bill Cipher the Teacher, Mentor, and Muse that Ford used to know so long ago. Like an ancient god who'd chosen to spend a day roleplaying as a giddy professor—Bill was holding back a tsunami's worth of vast, ancient, unintelligible alien knowledge so that he could drip out revelations at a faucet's pace, slow enough for his student to catch each drop in her hands.

Over thirty years ago, there had been moments when this Bill peeked out behind the above-it-all façade—and that had been the Bill that Ford was happiest to see, the Bill that Ford had thought of as a friend rather than a mere teacher... but each time, it hadn't been long before Bill seemly caught himself and turned off the faucet for the night.

Because he couldn't let Ford learn too much, or he would have seen through Bill's ruse.

Hatred tiredly crept back in.

"I've got it!" Mabel triumphantly flung her hands in the air. "It's like orange slices!"

"Orange slices?" Bill repeated.

"Be right back!" Mabel zoomed to the kitchen, shouting, "Hi Grunkle Ford!" as she passed.

Ford watched her go, then looked back at Bill; Bill had glanced at him for the first time. But all he did was frown and mutter, "I don't remember inviting you to audit this course."

Before Ford could decide whether to retort, Mabel charged back into the living room with an orange and a sharp knife. "Okay! If you draw a triangle on the orange," Mabel said, doing so with a marker, before cutting into it with the knife, "and then you—you cut it out all the way to the center..."

"Be careful with that," Ford said. Mabel was holding the orange in one palm and stabbing into it from the opposite side.

Bill said, "Lay off, Six Fingers. I'm keeping my eye on her, she's not gonna hurt herself."

"I'm being careful!" Mabel was struggling to get an even wedge cut all the way to the center of the orange; she eventually gave up and  dug into the orange with her fingertips to tug out a messy mangled handful of fruit, attached to a roughly equilateral patch of orange peel about two inches to each side. She shook orange juice off her fingers. "Pretend I cut that out better."

"I dunno what you're talking about," Bill said. "It looks flawless."

She pointed at each corner of the peel triangle. "Okay so, these are the three corners of the spherical triangle, right?"

"Right."

"And if you want to make a regular flat triangle, you can... try to cut a straight line between the corners, like..." She squeezed the rest of the orange between her knees, held the edges of the triangular peel with her fingertips, and sawed off the orange pulp underneath, trying to cut a flat level plane as near to the triangle's corners as she could. Ford almost warned Mabel about the knife again, but glanced at Bill's face and his expression of unworried, keen curiosity, and kept quiet. Bill reached out and caught the sawed-off chunk of orange pulp before it hit the ground.

Mabel held out the peel slice. "There! Right? Spherical triangle on top and flat triangle on the bottom!"

Bill considered that, one hand on his hip. He popped the orange chunk in his mouth. "All right. So far so good."

"But if you make a biangle..." Mabel drew two lines between the top and bottom of the remaining orange, and cut a wedge free. "There isn't anything extra to cut off to let you make a flat shape. There's just a straight line between the two points!"

"Ha! Okay, all right, that works! Brilliant! What do you need me for? You just taught yourself the whole lesson!" Bill ruffled her hair so enthusiastically that he knocked her headband askew.

She shoved him away, laughing, and straightened out her headband. "Bill!"

"What did I say! Didn't I tell you you'd get it?" Bill was beaming at her, impressed, delighted, proud. "Congratulations, you've just mastered college-level geometry."

"Wh—What? Are you serious? This is college stuff?" She shook her head. "No way, you're lying."

Bill pointed at Ford without looking at him. "Tell her."

He felt a little like a dog being commanded to bark; but he said, "He's right. I didn't start studying spherical geometry until my second semester in college." He was sure he could have studied it sooner, if his high school had offered it; and he doubted Mabel had absorbed an entire semester's worth of spherical geometry; but he didn't see any reason to point any of that out when Mabel's face lit up in excitement.

Bill said, "There you have it! Way to go, star girl! Two big stickers."

"YES!" Mabel peeled off two jumbo-sized star stickers with smiley faces and stuck them onto her earrings. "So does that make a biangle a girl or a boy?"

And Ford was immediately lost again.

"No," Bill said.

Mabel sighed loudly and tried again. "Does that make a biangle a line or a polygon?"

"Still no, but for a different reason. Externally, they look like lines to anyone who isn't psychic. Internally, their anatomy usually functions like a polygon's. But socially, you've gotta ask. Some of 'em consider themselves lines, some polygons, some claim biangularity is neither linear nor polygonal. Personally, I say they're whatever they say they are. Because," he said grandly, "I'm just that open-minded and accepting."

Ford stifled a derisive snort. But Bill's self-aggrandizing aside, Ford's mind was reeling trying to keep up—spherical geometry, the (gendered?) socialization of shapes, Flatworlder anatomy—what did psychics have to do with anything? Ford's fingers itched for a pen. He wished he had his journal with him.

Bill grabbed several papers off the floor and the floating crystal ball and climbed on top of the wooden TV cabinet. He left the ball hovering behind him seven feet up in the air, tossed aside several papers he'd already used both sides of to let them flutter back to the floor, and taped the rest to the wall with their blank backsides turned out. "Now back to remote viewing." He drew a grid in blue lines on the papers, said, "Toss me that triangle wedge," used a marker to draw an eye on the triangular orange peel, tapped it twice like he had the crystal ball, and stuck it against the grid, where it sat unmoving.

And the entire time, Ford watched with his arms crossed tightly.

Almost a month ago, Bill had given Ford his manipulative trap of a birthday gift, a miniature grimoire, five pieces of paper, margins filled, two rows of text per line, packed with as diverse an array of magical spells and occult knowledge as Bill could fit. It wasn't a gift, it was a boast and a taunt: look at everything I know that you don't; look at what I could teach you if you let me live. 

It was something Bill could have given him all along—effortlessly, with no cost to himself—but didn't, until Bill wanted something from him. 

On his birthday, Ford had wondered, furiously: when this was what Bill could have been—gift-giver, wish-granter, teacher, guide, friend—why did he choose not to be?! It was an internal scream of rage, the howl of a wounded victim at the condemned criminal as he was marched to the gallows: you monster, you monster, you monster, when it would have been so easy for you to be something better, why instead are you a liar, manipulator, torturer, murderer, life-ruiner, world-ender? Answer for yourself: why are you this instead of someone better? How dare you?

It had made Ford want him dead even more.

This was the exact opposite of the grimoire.

The question in Ford's head wasn't a scream of rage anymore. It was grief. It was a plea. It was one last desperate attempt to understand:

Instead of being who he was, why couldn't Bill have been this person? This charismatic, energetic, ecstatic muse who ruled like a king over a classroom he'd constructed himself, eager to share a trillion years of collected wisdom with a fragile mortal mind, lighting up with joy whenever she grasped something that was trivially simple to him? This guide to the vast wonders beyond Earth, competent and encouraging and funny, delighting in the weirdness of the wide wide universe? The Bill that Ford had once liked so much—the Bill that he'd called his friend?

"Okay," Bill said, all sunshine and excitement, "Back to how to view the third dimension from the second dimension—"

Mabel said, "Can you view the fourth dimension from the third?"

Bill hesitated a split second, but said, "Sure! You can view any dimension from any dimension! You've just gotta bend your eye the right way to see higher ones!"

"What does the fourth dimension look like?"

"Well—hm. Imagine the way that the third dimension looks different from the second, and that's the way the fourth dimension looks different from the third."

Mabel stared at Bill.

"Eddie wrote an entire book about a square meeting a sphere because that was the closest he could get to telling other humans what seeing the fourth dimension is like! If I could still visit dreams, I could just show you, but..."

"Isn't the fourth dimension time? Blendo showed us the time stream! Is that what it looks like?"

"Nnn—close! You're close. The fourth dimension isn't time, but time is in the fourth dimension."

"How's that different."

Bill pointed at the floor. "If the carpet's the second dimension and the lamp's shining on it, the third dimension isn't light, but light is in the third dimension."

"Ohhh." Mabel gasped. "That's why you called some weird thing flying around in a higher dimension an eclipse! Because eclipses were in a higher dimension in Flatworld!"

Bill's face lit up in surprised delight. "All right, skip three lessons ahead, why don't you! In a week's time you'll be teaching people how my dimension works." He turned back to his papers and started drawing a branching river. "So! That time stream you saw isn't time itself! It's a visual metaphor being generated so humans can see time too—sort of a hologram projecting from the fourth dimension into the third—have I explained that the universe is a hologram yet—"

Why weren't you this person, Ford wondered. Why did you choose not to be this person? When it was so easy for you to be this? When this made you happy, too?

Why couldn't you have been this person?

Why are you only like this now, when you're about to die?

####

(Hope y'all enjoyed Infodump: The Chapter. This is one of those chapters with something hidden in it that'll unravel the whole fic if you happen to find it, so have fun searching for that. Let me know what you thought of this week's chapter! And get excited—we've got Big Things coming up... soon.)

[iamnmbr3]

I find it incredibly creepy how Dumbledore views Riddle as being this sort of inherently seductive 'femme fatale' type. In book 6 he implies that Tom used his looks to endear himself to his teachers when he started school and hide his supposedly inherently evil and corrupt nature.

Like. Albus. DUDE. Tom was ELEVEN. Why would you assume that teachers would be swayed by or even paying attention to the attractiveness of an eleven year old?! WTAF?

And then he portrays the Hepzibah Smith memory as another example of Tom using his seductive charms for evil. But although he does bring her flowers he doesn't do anything else to encourage her and in fact seems uncomfortable and determined to keep the conversation focused on work.

She is actually the one who is being creepy here given the power differential between them. I mean, yes, Tom is putting up with her because it suits his designs for the moment and could and would kill her in a second if provoked. But even though we know that she certainly doesn't. As far as she knows she's creeping on this young store clerk without wealth or connections whose job depends on keeping her happy.

And certainly while she enjoys his looks and his attention she also seems quite happy with the persona he puts on where he addresses her in a highly respectful manner, not as an equal. She's certainly not complaining about how he calls her Miss Hepzibah or asking him to drop the honorific. She likes that. She likes that he addresses her not much differently than how her House Elf does. She likes his whole "I am only a poor assistant, madam, who must do as he is told" thing. And as far as she knows he is just that, with no particular special power or talent other than his good looks which she evidently appreciates. This is not him leading on and taking advantage of an innocent sweet old lady.

And yes he brings her flowers, presumably to keep her happy, but other than that he tries to keep the conversation professional and steer the discussion towards the purpose of his visit. He doesn't say anything overtly flirtatious or even try to prolong their discussion by asking to see some of her other things.

She brings that up on her own. Nor is there any indication that he is the one that decided to move their relationship in this direction. It seems more like she saw a young and good looking man, apparently far below her in terms of station and magical power, and made her move. He probably isn't the first.

The way she casually touches him is just so creepy to me. And though he tolerates it, he did nothing to encourage or solicit it. Riddle is someone who is in general quite averse to touch. We only see him voluntarily touch one person in 7 books and that's when he touches Harry, just for a second in book 4, just to show that he can. I don't think he enjoys this kind of attention. He was probably glad to kill her for more than just the purpose of getting the cup and the locket.

And yet none of her creepiness is acknowledged. Instead, Dumbledore draws our attention to how Riddle cruelly seduced and murdered a nice old lady whose affections he sought and then betrayed:

[yandere-writer-momo]

For my birthday, I decided to finally drop the Jack Hanma smut piece! Enjoy

Yandere Baki Short Stories:

Carne

Yandere Jack Hanma x Female Reader

TW: Cannibalism as a metaphor for love, blood kink, smut, YANDERE, etc.

Hands desperately clawed at the table in front of (your name) in an attempt to ground herself. Pants and wanton moans spilled from her lips as she was driven to the brink of insanity…

“This is what you get for teasing me.” A deep voice snarled in her ear and his hips pistoned into hers. His monstrous length slid between her damp folds as a puddle of their fluids dripped beneath them. (Your name)’s toes were over feet off the ground while her legs dangled in the air since Jack held her body up with his strong arms. “Always flaunting yourself around the other fighters. Parading around in those tight clothes like a whore.”

(Your name)’s head lulled to the side, a loud groan spilled from her swollen lips. Jack had been abusing her poor lower lips with his monstrous length for hours now. The stream of fluid leaking from her pussy was unending. (Your name) wasn’t even aware that Jack had any feelings for her. Their relationship was mostly physical. A no strings attached sort of arrangement. How was she to know he would grow jealous of her friendly banter with the other martial artists?

Jack was simply an outlet for her pent up frustrations, just like (your name) was an outlet to build ‘strength.’ His half brother, Baki, had put a worm in his ear that sex made one more powerful and Jack had approached her with that intention only… until he became attached. Until Jack became so overbearing and protective of her.

Wherever she was, Jack was never far. The blonde tank always stood guard over her. Whenever she’d confront Jack, he’d deny that he had feelings but (your name) knew the truth. She just didn’t care to correct him. Jack was a man one never wanted to anger. Jack was more of a beast than a man, one who would rip his apart like wrapping paper if they even looked in his direction funny. And she would like to keep that animalistic nature of his strictly in the bedroom.

Jack used to leave her in early hours in the morning after a nightly tryst, but now he stayed with her and cuddled. Sometimes he even made (your name) breakfast in bed. This development terrified her because (your name) never gave him any indication that she wanted a romantic relationship. She was always civil with him and treated him like a human being. She didn’t understand why he interpreted kindness as love. But perhaps it had something to do with his rough upbringing.

Jack was a man who felt like he didn’t deserve love nor life since he was brought into this world from hate. A man who only lived for revenge and nothing more… a man who now found solace in (your name)’s arms and in between her legs. A man who would never leave her side until she was completely his. Jack would drown her in his sea of affection until she adapted to be able to breathe in it.

(Your name) was swallowed whole in his musky, woodsy scent. The strong scent of pine overwhelmed her senses. All she could feel was Jack. All she could smell was Jack. Jack. Jack. Jack.

She came undone once more when his titanium teeth lightly grazed against the soft skin of her shoulder. Her walls grasped the empty space while his length ran between it. (Your name) desperately wanted him to fill her. To stretch her poor, weeping cunt until she was satisfied.

And in an instant his teeth sunk into her neck hard enough to draw blood, but not hard enough to rip a chunk of her off like he did to his opponents. His strong pink muscle darted out to greedily lap at the blood that trickled down her skin. His mouth now stained scarlet.

“Everything about you is so delicious… I can’t get enough of you.” Jack muttered into (your name)’s skin, his cinnamon eyes hazy with lust. “What kind of witchcraft have you cast on me?”

(Your name) gasped when he used a hand to tilt her chin up to look at him. A smirk on his face at how dazed her expression was.

“You’re so beautiful.” (Your name) could barely move when he bent down to kiss her. She could taste the iron of her own blood on his tongue as the strong muscle dominated hers. His large hand lights pressed against her through that left her absolutely breathless. The pace of his brutal thrusts never ceased.

Drool dripped out of the sides of her mouth and onto her bruised chest. Various bruises and bite marks littered her skin in a grotesque picture of love.

(Your name) was so lost… where did she begin and where did Jack end? How could a man consume her entirety to the point that she melted into him? That her blood mixed with his in a gory display of devotion?

“I love you. I love you so much.” Jack whispered in her ear as he dragged his tongue across the salty tears that fell down her cheeks. Had she been crying? (Your name) hadn’t even realized. “I love you so much, I want to become a part of you.”

A loud cry escaped her lips when she felt Jack’s hips start to slow, his grip on her throat never ceased. His cinnamon eyes filled with a voracious hunger she knew only her entire being could quench.

“You’re mine. No one else can have you. I don’t want to be with anyone else.”

And that’s when he finally shoved himself inside. His tongue tangled with hers and (your name) came on his length again. She could feel him spill himself inside her fluttering walls with a goal in mind. A goal he’d never reach since he was infertile from excessive steroid usage.

(Your name) went limp like a noodle while his viscous seed spilled from between her legs. Jack’s strong arms still held her up. His lips pressed hot kisses all over her face.

(Your name) slowly reached her hands up to cup his cheeks. A few tears spilled from Jack’s eyes while he shuddered. His lungs gasped for breath but he couldn’t help but hold his in anticipation. Jack wanted to know her answer, he wanted to know if his twisted feelings were reciprocated.

“I’m yours.”

Yes, she’d accept Jack. There was no one else in this world that has ever been attached of this broken man’s side and she’d be that person. She’d be his solace. (Your name) would be his meal.

For limerence and love were merely separated by a thin line.

[myafterlifeisbetterthenyours]

Hii, hope u're doing ok in ur break. If the slot is till open, can i request Sir Pentious n Alastor with a dom male! reader who used to be a detective before he died?

I like the thought of Alastor being with someone who's supposed to arrest him (lol), and making him call the reader 'sir' a lot.

You Have The Right To Remain Silent... If You Can~

Sir Pentious

You slammed the serpent onto the desk, bending him over as you slid a hand down his scaly form, gripping his surprisingly curvaceous hips.

Yanking his head back by his hood, you growled in his ear.

"Where are you hiding the weapons?"

The man gasped softly, back arching as he swallowed the lump in his throat, scaly rear almost presenting to you.

"I'll never tell!" He whined, trying to pull from your grasp, only to moan as you gripped his hood even tighter, pulling him close.

You yanked his arms back, snapped a pair of cuffs onto him.

They were cheap cuffs, stuff from a xheapo store, you sure if the man tried hard enough they'd break, yet you knew he wouldn't, the man whining softly as you leant over him.

With a sadistic smile, you gripped his face, pulling him in close.

"Tell me, and this can be easy. Ooor you could resist, and I could be very, very Hard on you~" you growled, practically grinding on him.

The man simply moaned, biting his lower lip.

"So, you think you can break me?! I'd love to see you try!" He cried triumphantly, as you leaned in, breathing heavy on his neck.

You smirked, yanking on his hood as you slammed his face into the desk.

"Oh don't worry. I'm not scared to throw the book at you." You growled, leaning in close, practically purring in his ear. "But with you, snake boy... you should be careful, cause if you keep resisting imma spank you with it."

You growled, slapping his scaly "ass", Pentious moaning lewdly as he practically pushed back in your hand.

The man all but whining as you manhandled him.

You had some back and forth, Pentious declaring he'd never reveal his secrets, you determined to 'drill' them out of him, using your 'experience' on Pentious. Putting that top notch detective experience to work.

Of course you weren't too rough. You were too experienced a detective to rough him up enough to leave marks, well, to leave bad marks, you left plenty of fun marks on the man, though even then he never minded a bit of rough play.

Having the man at your mercy was always a lovely thrill, Pentious a giddy idiot when intimate, but he was surprisingly capable at theatrics when in the mood, man a damsel at your mercy.

Well, not necessarily at your mercy, Pentious was totally in on it, the man all but eager to submit to 'your authority', putting up as much of a fight as he was expected too.

You didn't get too rough, well, not physically, as you didnt wanna leave marks, not that Pentious minded marks, he just didn't want the sort you couldn't explain off.

Pinning him to the desk, you'd hold him close, kissing and suckling his delicate neck flesh, drawing a string of moans and whines from the man, Pentious moaning loudly as you suddenly bit the snakes neck.

This was hardly the first time you'd played this role, Pentious particular to a bit of power play, especially when you so naturally knew your part.

And despite the man's craving for status and power, he relished the way you dominated him, a big goofy grin across his face as you used your once lawful abilities to hold power over others, the snake fascinated with almost supernatural power you held over him, almost as much as the hold you had on his body.

And while he'd never publicly admit it, the snake loved submitting every tume you took charge.

You treated him like any other perp, cuffing the man as you... had your fun~

Pentious loved every second of it, you always sure he enjoyed it, the snake loving it when you were in power.

This was a surprisingly big part of your relationship, the two of you having a deeply intimate connection.

Pentious relishing more then just the idea of you, but the sheer dominance you could exert, the man both loving and desperately wanting to emulate your dominant abilities.

And while the sexual aspect was always heavy, he really craved to know how to dominate, you trying to show the snake just how to be more dominant.

Yet despite your abilities and attempts, the man occasionally having bouts of success, you always held the cards in your relationship.

You'd of course teach the snake many of the skills you held.

You were a veteran detective before death, and as such you knew far more about the minds of others then many Sinners in Hell, a skill Pentious desperately wished to emulate.

Of course, when not engaging in Detective themed S&M, you had a deeply romantic relationship.

Pentious, despite himself, was desperate for intimacy. The man adoring the fact he had someone to care and attend to, and you damn well knew it.

The snake was always amazed at your deductive abilities, you able to trll much about him before he even spoke, you doing your best to teach him, too... mixed results.

But despite the regular 'Cops and Robbers' routine, you also had a deeply intimate relationship, you often spending great lengths of time with the man.

You, of course, let him keep something of an illusion of control, the man allowed to build his air fleet and egg-boi army, you keeping a watch of it all, but the man ultimately free to do as he pleased.

Of course, you barely had to assert yourself to dominate the man, Pentious immediately folding any time you so much as touched him, the Serpent relishing your touch in his life, craving your affection.

You had the snake wrapped around your fingers, Pentious loving it any time you flexed your power over him, The snake loving to puff up his ego, but the man quivering if you so much as purred in his ear.

You and your 'big bad snake' shared a deep, if lopsided, relationship, as while the man relished asserting his power and status, he adored when you asserted your power over him, two of you having a deeply adoring relationship.

Alastor

Your little back and forth with Alastor was long running, the man finding you exceptionally interesting.

You were in your 'office', the man sat in a chair as you stood over the man.

"My, Mr Detective, aren't you going to read me my rights?"

You simply smirked, yanking on his dishevelled neck tie, the man biting his lip as you stared down at the man, the Radio Demon's wrists bound behind his back.

The man who was so used to getting his way, that having the man at your whim, the man at your mercy, it was a refreshing change of pace for the man.

And if you happen to play into the roaring persona of an ABU agent eager to 'question' him with some... unorthadox interrogation tactics.

"Oh don't worry, I'll make sure you know every right and wrong you've got~"

Alastor knew this song and dance, having endured such treatment when alive, something he was sure to remind you of every time you had your little 'play sessions'.

You always eager to play into the role, playing up your persona, usually with a distinct shift, either rank or position, or his Crime.

Always making sure to play into it. Hard. Relishing your 'play time' with thr man, the dapper demon seemingly appreciating your theatrics as you pressed him into a wall. Or desk. Or the back of your car.

Or over your car.

Or on that ferris-wheel that one time.

Pressing your body to his, getting closer then any man ever had, binding his wrists with his own dress shirt as you slid your hands into his belt line.

"Looks like youll be going in for some Hard Time?"

You growling in his ear, working over his lithe form, drawing out a string of breathless moans from the man.

Alastor purred, a crackle of static as his back arched, you relishing this control, always managing to illicite a moan from the man.

The demon, despite his pride, was deeply susceptible to your detective persona, the man, in an oddly reminiscent episode enjoyed reliving his mortal years, the thrill of the back and forth. And of the Hunt~

The man was witty, and smug, as he was in life, always eager for your 'play time'. Which was iron8c since he wasnt all too partial to physical contact, yet with you he adored those 'rendezvous' always eager to elicit a rise out of you, man partial to some pain.

Though even as you slammed him against your desk, flesh pressed against flesh, the man always doing his best to keep up his smug persona, his way of encouraging you to 'put him in his place'.

You had an exceptionally smug back and forth every time, Alastor exceptionally snarky, well, until you smacked his ass, Alastor suppressing a whine as you leaning in close, biting his neck.

Now, Alastor would never admit as much, but he was very partial to a good bite on the neck, the man often whining like a doe when you sunk your teeth into the man's neck. A favour he would often return, you having more then a few bloody Tshirts due to the man.

The man would often end up as a whining, mewling mess, eyes crossing as you held the man down, turning Alastor into a moaning, whining mess, utterly submitting to you when in your office.

Of course the man would never admit as much publicly, keeping up his ever smug radio persona when in public.

But when in the privacy of your own home, he'd playfully submit, allowing you to 'take charge', you usually ending up inside of him.

One way or another.

The man, despite his pride, loved your little games of back and forths, able to experience real dominance, a breath of fresh air for such a powerful demon, the dapper demon so used to being the most powerful person in the room, he received an alien body of energy every time.

Of course, your past as a detective was always a point of teasing and prodding for the man, the man loving to work you up with idiotic questions until you'd end up snapping, said snapping usually ending with him bound to a chair, missing half his clothing, his neck utterly covered in big red bite marks.

A big dopey grin on his face with his hair all kinds'ah fucked up.

You were a constant source of entertainment, as whenever you werent 'investigating' something, i.e his body, you were usually enduring his teases and taunts, the man always happy to get a rise out of you, you quickly reminding him who was in charge.

Your favourite being to bind his wrists with his own bowtie, regularly blindfolding him before having your way with him, leaving a whole myriad of new marks and scars.

Alastor liked to pretend otherwise, but it was painfully obvious he was always eager for it, even as he moaned and squirmed, back arching as he practically begged, something he desperately tried not too do, but you always managed to squeeze it out of him, among with other things~

When not engaging in sexually deviance, the two of you had an exceptionally romantic relationship, as even as he was hesitant to show real intimacy, or well, public intimacy was mostly off the table.

Of course, you'd still manage to get something from the man, usually a simple kiss, or affectionate nuzzle, a monumental achievement for anybody. One you always celebrated in your own smug little way.

And yes, he'd never reveal the inner dynamics of your relationship, something you didn't blame him for, he was as vain as you were assertive. You still shared a loving, and disproportionately assertive, relationship, the two of you loving each other deeply, adoring each other. Usually with Alastor being bent over a desk being your favourite way to show it to each other~