#disability love and acceptance is so important

[bishoukun]

here I go getting emotional before bed

hey, fan artists who make post-war Gai!

thank you.

no, really. I'm a part-time chair user. I can't go more than a teeny tiny walk across the street and back without it. and sometimes even then. I knew nothing about chairs until I needed to use one, and one of the things that had always confused me was how to deal with propelling when the wheel was dirty or wet. the outer bards on them? I thought they were bumpers. like car bumpers but for a chair.

seeing the various chairs drawn being used correctly, seeing the bits and pieces that are easy to forget, different types of chair backs and foot rests and bar handles, bags designed to be hung, and even - and this really gets to me when I see it - different kinds of wheels.

off-road wheels, high speed wheels, sports/sharp turn wheels.

self-propelling while being pushed - I do this with my partner all the time.

maybe the only thing I haven't seen is a fastener, but depending on when it's meant to take place, he probably wouldn't need it.

then there are the environmental/human things, like accessible seating and rearranging apartment space for indoor use of a forearm or standard crutch. nyooming way past the rest of the people with you and then spinning in circles waiting for them to catch up.

one thing that really got me, hard, was a work a while back was how another person assuming it was okay to just "be thoughtful and kind" and try to push Gai to the response of two very angry men.

I have had this happen to me. someone I didn't know pushing me without my consent. it. was. terrifying. and horribly invasive. you don't take someone's crutch and move it for them; that crutch is an extension of their body. their ability to use it as a mobile device for ambulating is their personal agency, their independence. I am uncomfortable with nurses, doctors, etc., pushing me without my consent, which unless my partner is not there or is feeling ill, I will not give. she will also step in and tell them not to touch before they do, since I don't have a byakugan.

someone assuming it's okay to physically relocate Gai while simultaneously invading his space and denying him agency over himself is perhaps the most disrespectful thing a person could do to him. so to see that reaction the way it actually happens to us in real life being portrayed, including the protective partner glaring down the offender with a look that could kill, that is so validating.

but here's the other thing, y'all. not only are all of these details, these specific things you are putting in your work, a huge comfort in and of themselves; you are normalizing disability. you are normalizing being around, having, living with, adapting to disability visibly and without room for argument. and not a single one of you, or anyone else I have seen in this community, have even remotely implied that being disabled means being any less incredible or worthy of love and admiration and respect. there is no less love for this youthful beast.

and having struggled for the last four years with losing my mobility, being partly chair-bound, and how it has forced me to see and think of the world differently. it's fucking hard. from casual sports to boating to long walks all being daily activities to now being barely able to walk to my kitchen and back without help has been... indescribably difficult and painful. there are times I hate myself, times I hate my body, times I am filled with anger because I can't do so many of the things that bring me joy and fulfillment.

but my partner? she's been my Kakashi in this struggle. if I need to do something a certain way, or use tools like my chair and crutches, she has never bat an eye - in fact, she has actively done the opposite. she made sure I named both of my chairs (past and current) and shared visible excitement in getting them. she doesn't act as though I'm made of glass, though she will be mindful and tell me when I need to stop being stupid/stubborn, and I'm not an inconvenience to her. I struggle less because she has neither fixated on nor ignored this becoming a part of my life; she has made it a part of our lives, and that makes it so much less lonely.

you all have been doing that, too, making being disabled like this feel less lonely. you make me feel seen, valued, remembered, included; you remind me that my body may be a bit fucked up and broken, but that doesn't mean I am any less desirable or lovable. and every single person who shares these works of art, fanfics, or comments in general about this, you all have been helping, too.

the end of SnK was a major step for me in starting to break away from these struggles, and I won't spoil it by saying who or what or how. what I will say is that, for those who kept with the manga or already know it, having a character that has been regularly compared to me and with whom I have always felt a deep connection with, who I understand it ways I have never understood a character before because I am (or would be) the same way in those circumstances in that world... to see them in a way that I had personally written many times because it felt cathartic to do so now actually existing in that same way, that started breaking down the walls (pun intended) and allowed me to start associating them with this and this with them, and feel stronger for it.

but there is still very little art with that as a focus or included at all, along with quite frankly being wary of trying to enter fandom space to begin with. so it started kicking the walls, but hadn't gotten through.

you.

you are starting to get through.

[cluescorner]

Randomized Robins AU - Ages + Worst Trait Exercise:

Steph (25):

Says her worst trait is her murderous rages (she is exaggerating for dramatic/comedic effect, she’s killed 3 people tops and for very good reason)

Thinks her worst trait is her spitefulness (one of the few traits she definitely got from her father + one that prevents her from fixing her relationships and living her best possible life. She’ll refuse to interact with someone she dearly loves after an argument (happens significantly less after Tim’s death) or will say things she knows are hurtful just for the sake of having the last word. This trait will worsen in some ways as the list of people who have wronged her and those she loves grows, but will also ease up as she matures and realizes the harm it’s doing to her relationships with those she loves most.)

Her worst trait really is her spitefulness

Cass (26)

Says her worst trait is her self-righteousness (she believes that her goals are righteous and, as a result, she is righteous. Cass becomes very defensive whenever someone questions the mission and often does not second-guess herself. This is a trait she only develops later in life as she grows closer to Bruce/learns to understand herself more/starts to love herself more. But she knows she isn’t perfect and when somebody she trusts criticizes something she is doing she is willing to listen. She just usually isn’t the one to START the introspection.) 

Thinks her worst trait is her self-righteousness. 

Her worst trait actually is her obsessiveness (she gets it from Bruce and, while not as bad as him, she will easily become preoccupied with her night-life and the mission if someone isn’t there to pull her back. She will do this to the point of self-destruction and it hurts her relationships with the people she loves, especially Steph.)

Tim (24)

Says his worst trait is his spitefulness (he actively rejects the idea of mending his relationships with the older members of the family and this causes him to also lack good relationships with the younger ones)

Thinks his worst trait is his obsessiveness (similar to Cass, if he gets fixated on a task or idea he will neglect everything else in his life in order to dedicate more time to it. Unlike Cass, he will almost never be dragged away from it unless Pierrot snatches control of the body and forces them to take care of themself.)

His worst trait actually is how manipulative he is (the KING of guilt-tripping and using people’s emotions against them. He’ll do whatever he needs to do to get what he wants, he’s not above crocodile tears. And he will do it to whoever he needs (or wants) to with little care for how his actions impact others.)

Pierrot (Insists: “Age doesn’t apply to me! And even if it did, I'd probably be the oldest. Or the youngest! I’d never be a middle child, though.” Mental assessments by the Bats have put him around 21, with a margin of error of 3 years. Pierrot has called this “blatant character assassination by my eternal rival!”)

Says his worst trait is that he is an irredeemable psychopath without any regard for the wellbeing of others (this is a lie and everyone who's important to him understands this). 

Thinks his worst trait is his parasitic nature (he literally would not exist had Tim not suffered the way he did. Plus he is a living reminder of one of the worst things that happened to many of his loved ones. He is a parasite injected into a functional person's body and contributes to his continued suffering. This is also a largely incorrect judgement of himself, caused by his actual worst trait.)

His worst trait actually is his limited sense of self (he doesn’t really know who he is outside of ‘inheritor to the legacy of the Joker (a man he despises yet also views as a father)’ and ‘chip in Tim’s brain that became sentient’. He slowly develops an identity over the course of his life and relationships with other people, but he lacks the foundations of identity that most people have. Pierrot will often almost become a caricature of himself and what others perceive him to be because it's the only person he knows how to be. This causes wild swings in how he behaves and relates to others, sometimes to the detriment of himself and others.)

Dick (17) 

Says his worst trait is his clinginess (he is a very extraverted person who likes to be around others, which mixed with his fear of abandonment after his parents died means that if he goes a few days without seeing/talking to a friend he will get very anxious.)

Thinks his worst trait is his anger issues (he gets ticked off very easily and will explode on people. He’s kind at his core and is usually very nice, but he has a temper that can escalate significantly. Spoiler (and later Twist) help him channel this anger into something positive.)

His worst trait actually is his anger issues.

Barbara (18)

Says her worst trait is her disability (internalized ableism, she thinks of herself as less valuable than the other Bats because she cannot be out there in the capes like they can. She will grow out of this as she matures and as she learns how invaluable her support for the team is.)  

Thinks her worst trait is her disability 

Her worst trait actually is her overly-independent nature (In an attempt to overcompensate for everything she can no longer do, she has resolved to do literally everything that she possibly can without any help from others. This results in many instances where she either takes on too much and winds up not being able to fully realize any of her tasks or where she makes her life and the lives of others significantly harder by refusing help when offered/not asking for it when she needs it.)

Damian (16)

Says his worst trait is his perfectionism (he is overly critical of both himself and others, taking any flaw or problem and amplifying it to an absurd degree. This is due in part to his life with the LoA (where even a brief misstep could lead to death), in part to how others treated him initially as Spoiler (any flaw was fixated on and used as a reason to either mistrust him or portray him as unworthy of the mantle), and in part due to the fact that he is Bruce’s son (the only person with worse perfectionism problems than Damian). Gradually, Damian has improved in this regard but it’s still a massive barrier to both his own happiness and his relationships with others.)

Thinks his worst trait is his perfectionism 

His worst trait actually is his perfectionism

Duke (16)

Says his worst trait is his definitely-real secret evil side (says this as a ‘my dad is a villain so who knows??’ joke)

Thinks his worst trait is his impulsivity in his words (Sometimes he will crack a joke or say a remark without thinking it through, leading to a LOT of hurt feelings and drama. He’ll say something without thinking it through and wind up seeming insensitive. This isn’t done because of malice, rather because Duke is someone who’s quick to act and speak. But while the mantle of Insight and his awakening powers have helped him with his actions, they do not always help with his loose tongue. As such, Duke gains an unfair reputation in the media as an instigator and will accidentally cause family drama through what he says.)

His worst trait actually is his impulsivity in his words

Jason (14)

Says his worst trait is his bad manners (he grew up on the streets and has no idea how rich-people society works, which he’s pretty insecure about considering he’s now the youngest kid of Bruce freaking Wayne). 

Thinks his worst trait is his reactiveness (Jason never got the privilege of planning ahead for various events in his life, so he instead needed to rely on being swift and harsh in how he could react to situations. It’s saved his life on multiple occasions and helps significantly in his role as Spoiler, but it can also lead to extreme overreactions (accidentally causing kidnapping scare after Jason ran away following a fight with Dick) and a struggle to plan things out ahead of time. As he grows more secure in his place in the family and in life, this trait will lessen but never fully dissipate.)

His worst trait actually is his reactiveness

[loregoddess]

saw the first volume of Cursed Princess Club in the store last Sunday as I was walking by the manga section, and the name was so unusual that I looked it up online when I got home, and found out it was on webtoons to read for free, and just finished it, and holy shit

literally one of the best stories I've ever read

[eats-the-stars]

I feel like there are roughly two kinds of "painfully weird kid" that you can be during your K-12 school years. the first is your "I am trying so hard to be normal but I just cannot seem to hit the mark. there's just something wrong with me and I don't know how to fix it" and the second is the category I was in, which is your "everyone around me is so incredibly weird but they obviously can't help it so I will just have to accept this."

[natandacat]

The levels of stress I'm under are medically contraindicated so I'm making myself not be stressed by just embracing the idea of complete failure and powerlessness. Is it working? Mostly. My ability to focus on work is gone tough so that's annoying (I say while procrastinating on homework by writing this)

[drchucktingle]

THE TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION HAVE ISSUED AN APOLOGY AND A RE-INVITATION. HERE IS MY STATEMENT

hello buckaroos. the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION have issued a formal statement and apology which you can read at the attached link.

while i find the language used to discuss what was done a little unsatisfying, i would like to start by saying i appreciate anyone taking steps to prove love is real and make things right. the genuine feeling of ‘realizing you have made a mistake and hurt someone else’ is a terrible one, and i have so much empathy for this group as they reckon with their choices causing harm. i appreciate their apology.

i also think more good than bad has come from this situation. i am so thankful this happened to me (someone with a large social media presence) and not a smaller buckaroo author without the means to stand up for themselves. i think the next time someone comes to the TXLA with an accommodation need, they will hopefully be taken more seriously

lets trot down to business about specifics now. the TXLA has re-invited chuck to the original panel and even offered to take a moment at the top of the panel to talk about what happened. this is very kind of them and i will say THANK YOU. 

unfortunately i will also have to decline.

the fact that it took this much effort, social media backlash, and discussion to let me simply EXIST PHYSICALLY in a way that is authentic to myself is not a good sign. if this organization immediately questions an authors chosen presentation in this manner, i cannot imagine what my other accommodations would be met with.

sometimes i am at an event and i very quickly need extra space to breathe. sometimes i am at an event and i need special guides to help me along from place to place. these are not ‘big asks’ and every other conference has gladly provided them, but if the TXLA had this kind of initial reaction to my physical appearance, i cannot imagine them readily helping with my other needs without ‘proof’.

this is clearly not a safe place to trot for those who require additional accommodations. regardless of any apology, their ACTIONS have shown that people who appear unusual or unique are not welcome at this event on a subconscious level. i believe the TXLA have some serious inner work to do beyond this apology, and i believe this inner work will involve actions more than words.

but even more importantly i would like to make this very important point: IT DOES NOT MATTER IF MY MASK IS A DISABILITY AID OR NOT. i appreciate the way this discussion has allowed us to trot out some deep talks on autism and proved love in this way, but i think there is a much more important point at hand.

regardless of WHAT someone looks like, it is not the job of an event or conference to pick apart WHY. physical presentation can be a part of someones neurodivergence, or gender, or sexuality, but i can also just exist as a nebulous undefined part of their inner self. it can be a piece they are not ready to openly discuss yet. the guests at TXLA are authors (aka ARTISTS) and the idea that a conference dedicated to an ART is going to deny people with unique and unusual presentations for ANY reason is absurd. since when are we applying a ‘dress code’ to our artists?

without knowing it, i personally believe there is an element of the ‘good queer, bad queer’ phenomenon going on here. there is a push to say ‘LOOK we accept these marginalized groups and cultures’ but behind the scenes that means ‘we accept these marginalized groups and cultures who are quiet and speak in turn and wear the metaphorical suit and tie’. it is easy to show diversity when you only take on the voices that arent too ‘strange’.

to prove my point i ask you this: do you think orville peck would have FOR ONE SECOND been asked to perform at the texas library association event without his mask?

so with that i say ‘very sincerely, thank you, but i will have to decline the re-invitation. maybe next year’

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

My dear lgbt+ kids,

Someone requested some advice on whether to openly tell people you are mentally ill/neurodivergent/invisibly disabled or not.

There's some research that suggests that, for example, autistic people are more likely to identify as lgbt+ than their non-autistic peers - so this is absolutely a topic that belongs on a lgbt+ blog and I'm sure there are a lot of you who had to make that decision (and probably keep having to make it as coming-outs of any sort are rarely one-and-done!).

In fact, I had/have to make that decision myself! As an autistic person with depression and anxiety, I could tell you now why I personally decided to be open about all those diagnoses - but the right decision for me isn't necessarily the right decision for you as my life isn't yours.

So, what I'll do instead is to write down a general list with (potential) pros and cons, and I encourage you to nitpick it. Personalize it, take some time to decide how much, if at all, each point weighs in your own decision. There's no right or wrong answer here. It's all about your highly individual situation, about your safety and comfort.

Reasons not to be open about it:

It may put you at risk for various sorts of hate, discrimination, negative stigma and bad treatment

It may put a burden on you to educate others and discuss any misconceptions or myths they believe in, including potentially hurtful or disstressing ones (maybe even fruitlessly so which may cause frustrations or fights)

It may change the way people treat you, even in well-meant ways (babying you, pitying you, trying to "help" against your wishes etc.)

It may feel like a loss of privacy, make you feel "naked" or emotionally vulnerable, make you worry more about the way others perceive you etc.

Reasons to be open about it:

It may help others understand you or your behavior better, which may have positive effects on your relationships

It may allow you to ask for support and help more easily (either from friends and loved ones or in the workplace, school etc.)

It may make you feel empowered and help you accept/love yourself as a disabled person more

It may contribute to making your specific diagnosis more visible in society (which may also make you feel pride in breaking down stereotypes and supporting your community)

It may discourage people from assigning wrong or hurtful labels to you (either armchair-diagnosing you or labeling you as weird, crazy, lazy, gross etc.)

It's important to keep in mind that some people do not have the option to make this decision for themselves, for example because they have highly visible symptoms or they are in a position where their caretakers make the decision for them. This adds another layer to why we can't judge one decision as better or worse than the other - it's not always their own decision.

With all my love,

Your Tumblr Dad

[thewisecheerio]

Elden Ring and Disability

Elden Ring is filled with disabled characters. What I love about the specific way that Elden Ring uses disability, though, is that there is almost always a lore-compliant accommodation provided to the disabled character. This world filled with magic doesn't erase disability, but rather finds magical and lore-compliant ways of accommodating it, much like Star Trek:

Here is some of the disability representation within Elden Ring.

First Generation Albinaurics

First generation albinaurics are synthetic humanoids. Their legs do not function normally, so they are unable to locomote by walking. In the worst cases where no accommodations are provided, we see them crawling to move. But we get two really cool examples of ways to accommodate this disability:

First, we have Latenna the Albinauric. Normally when you summon her as a spirit ash, she functions as a static archer due to the state of her legs. However, if you summon her near a wolf, she will climb onto the wolf and ride it around to avoid enemy attacks and even gains a new attack (freezing mist) with the help of her ride. This puts the onus on you, the player, to make sure that you summon her under accommodating circumstances if you want her to be able to move. And of course, you could also choose not to, accepting her disabled self as-is as a perfectly great battle companion.

You can see a video of the wolf companion in action here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=st6vGIpsHLs

Second, we have Commander Gaius. Gaius is also a first generation albinauric with non-functional legs. But you'd almost never know without reading his lore or looking closely at his model, because is accommodated. He rides his Battle Tank Boar into your fight and has absolutely no problem wiping the floor with your sorry ass.

In both cases, a support animal functioning as a mobility aid allows the first generation albinaurics to locomote.

Malenia, Blade of Miquella

Malenia is missing some limbs due to the Scarlet Rot infection she was cursed with at birth rotting. She is also blind due to the sickness taking her sight. However, Malenia is still able to fight you (and win and win and win and win and...). There are two accommodations at play, the first of which is canon and the second of which is a canon-compliant fanon.

The first is the prosthetics made by the Shaded Castle. Malenia's iconic blade is physically attached to her arm prosthetic, allowing her to wield it in battle regardless of the lack of (natural) limb.

Fun fact: this is based on a real, historical practice with armor where old armor was recycled into prosthetics! There was even a mercenary famed for using a prosthetic limb to hold his sword after an accident that damaged his arm. You can learn more here (timestamp 16:58): https://youtu.be/PJwNjOvn-Ow?t=1018

The second accommodation that allows Malenia to be battle-functional is the water in her battleground. Because she is blind, she can listen for the player character's movement in the water, responding in a Daredevil-esque way. This is probably helped by the fact that her blade instructor--the blind swordsman named in the Blue Dancer Charm--was also blind and likely taught her how to accommodate that disability.

Millicent

Like her mother Malenia, Millicent is also afflicted by the Scarlet Rot. We find her alone and largely non-functional in the Church of the Plague at the beginning of her questline, writhing in pain. We then bring her the Unalloyed Needle, which keeps the Scarlet Rot at bay, relieving pain and allowing her to travel once more. Toward the end of her questline, Millicent removes the needle, which brings the Rot back in full force and ends her life.

In this way, the Unalloyed Needle functions as a treatment regimen for a chronic illness. It does not cure her, but it keeps the illness in check well enough for her to function.

The fact that Millicent chooses to remove the needle at the end of her quest is Important! Disabled people aren't under any obligation to "meet their potential" or continue treatment because it is convenient for others; if they wish to stop their treatment—even to accept palliative care—that is their right. Anything less disrespects their bodily autonomy and choice to make their own decisions. The fact that we get this representation in Millicent, who actively chooses against continuing her treatment after a certain point, is Good and Important.

And of course, we also provide Millicent with a prosthetic from the Shaded Castle, same as her mother. Once properly accommodated in this way, she can fight by your side as an NPC summon.

Messmer the Impaler

A lot of people speculate that Messmer is blind. This is because his left eye is (as far as we know) permanently shut, while his right eye appears to be a grace-filled synthetic seal rather than an eyeball. It's entirely possible that the grace seal does allow vision, but there are a couple of reasons to consider why it might not:

1) When we first arrive, Messmer is sitting in the dark. You could interpret this as being a Sad, Broody, Wet Blanket (which he is), or you could interpret this as evidence that things like light and dark are of less consequence to him than to a sighted person. Or, you know, both. A Sad, Broody, Blind, Wet Blanket.

2) Shortly after he lights candles--probably for your benefit--he sends one of his snakes into your face. He is able to tell from what the snake sees that you are Tarnished and comments on it. We can tell this means he can see what the snake sees, because he would have to figure this out from looking at your eyes and only the snake is close enough to do so.

This suggests that the snakes function as a remote viewing aid, providing a sight accommodation. And yes, again you could choose to interpret the snakes as existing in addition to a sighted right eye, but it is still interesting to consider what they mean if they are simply Support Noodles.

Ranni and Melina

There is a syndrome in our world called Locked-In Syndrome, in which paralysis prevents the entire body from moving with (usually) the sole exception of the eyes. As a consequence, the disabled person is unable to affect the physical world without help due to an inability to physically interact with the world around them.

Ranni and Melina have a similar situation going on, but with different ways of dealing with it. They are both disembodied spirits, having lost their physical bodies.

Ranni chooses to deal with the problem by incarnating herself into a doll's body at least twice: once as the doll's body we spend most of her quest interacting with, and later as a tiny actual-doll-sized doll that the player can interact with. Essentially, she has given herself a prosthetic that allows her to interact with the physical world once more.

Meanwhile, Melina goes a different route. Rather than incarnate physically, Melina requests that the player character help her reach her goal--the foot of the Erdtree, and then the Forge. In this case, we provide the physical support necessary for Melina to interact with the world, much as support workers do for those unable to care for themselves.

Goldmask

Goldmask never speaks to us in words. Rather, he communicates largely via physical movements. Brother Corhyn, a pupil of Goldmask, refers to his master's communication as "the movement of his finger". When Goldmask stops his movements, Corhyn reacts with distress, "I'm a little shaken since the master ceased his movements." He then proceeds to translate what the movements meant up to that point for us.

The fact that Corhyn is distressed at the master's lack of further communication after his movements cease suggests that this is his *only* mode of communication with him.

This is entirely a canon-compliant headcanon, but I like to believe that this means Goldmask uses sign language that Corhyn is learning to interpret in order to communicate with him. Additionally, the fact that we cannot necessarily interpret it ourselves and must rely on Corhyn to translate means that Corhyn is also acting as a support worker by being Goldmask's translator.

And yes, I think this is largely to poke fun at the Gesture system in the game, but it's also fun disability representation!

This list isn't exhaustive. There are yet other characters that either are disabled or could be easily argued to be so, like Roderika (grief and/or PTSD, given a space to heal and process), Rennala (depression and/or grief, NOT accommodated AFAICT), and Hyetta (blind, accommodated with...uh..."treatments"). But the fact that this post is already over 1400 words and has yet to touch upon all of the disability representation in the game just shows you how much there is.

[benchspkmnirlhub]

A Guide to Pokemon IRL

Hello! Pokemon IRL has been getting more and more popular over the year and a half I've been in the community, and I'm seeing lots of people being confused by it.

So I'm making this guide, to hopefully help people understand it better, and perhaps join us in this wacky community.

Part 1: The Basics

Essentially, Pokemon IRL is a RP community centered on one single premise: Blogging as if you were in the Pokemon world. It's a hybrid of askblogs, RP blogs, and general tumblr blogs.

There's very few rules to it, other than just "don't be a jerk". There's all kinds of Pokemon IRL blogs, from regular OC trainers, to canon characters, to characters who are Pokemon themselves, to even Fallers from non-Pokemon media, and more!

The main thing is that 98% of Pokemon IRL operates on the multiverse. Blogs can have conflicting canons, since the multiverse exists, and the blogs can be from different universes. This also means that multiple people can RP the same character. I've lost count of the amount of Kieran and Silver blogs.

Why is Pokemon-world tumblr multiversal? Who knows! But that's the one generally accepted canon thing across almost all Pokemon IRL blogs.

Part 2: Glossary

I know glossaries are usually at the ends of books, but I figure it's important that I define some important terms before I get to the rest of this guide.

Rotomblr - The generally accepted name for Pokemon-world tumblr. I personally prefer to use the name Tacklr instead, but that's just my opinion.

Sapient Pokemon - Pokemon that are sapient. Typically refers to Pokemon that run blogs. Some blogs don't allow interactions with them. Some blogs love interacting with them, though, such as all my blogs!

Eebydeeby - A human that has been turned into a Pokemon. "Eeby" is short for it. "Sleeby" means "slow eeby", or a human that has been or is in the process of slowly turning into a Pokemon.

Hybrid - This has two meanings. The first is someone who's part human and part Pokemon. The second is a Pokemon that's part one species, part another species.

Pelipper Mail - This is a multiversal system of mail, powered via Pelipper! You can have Pelippers send items to other blogs with this. Can be enabled or disabled per blog. Same goes with the next five terms.

Pelipper Unmail - Instead of giving, this is taking. This steals something from another blog via Pelipper.

Pelipper Malice - Essentially, this is sending something to another blog that you know will hurt them.

Musharna Mail - It's like Pelipper Mail, but with dreams! This can be used to send dreams to other blogs.

Musharna Malice - Just like Musharna Mail, but it's nightmares instead of dreams.

Magic Anons - Essentially, this allows anons to do whatever they'd like to the characters on your blog. Use caution when enabling this, though, as it's suspected that some people fetish mine with these.

High Stakes - Basically, this refers to anything that can majorly injure many characters, or otherwise have lots of bad stuff happen. Many blogs don't like interacting with this stuff, so it's best to tag it.

Drama Stakes - Like High Stakes, but less. This is when stuff is happening that could lead to in-universe ruined relationships. Best to tag this too.

Ultra Stakes - Like High Stakes, but more. This is when things lead to potential death of many characters. Definitely best to tag this as well.

Chosen - Sometimes someone is a legendary's favorite special little person, and they get powers from it! That's essentially what a Chosen is.

Faller - Someone, usually from a non-Pokemon media, who falls into the Pokemon world. Essentialyl a way of writing a non-Pokemon character in Pokemon IRL.

Self-Insert Faller - An OOC blogrunner falls into the Pokemon world. Can get very meta.

Muse Mixup Madness - At the start of every month, there's an event where some blogs temporarily change their core concept for a day or a few. It's best to tag these, and to give warnings beforehand.

Part 3: Setting up your Blog

Setting up a Pokemon IRL blog is a lot like setting up a regular tumblr blog, just in-character.

The main thing you'll need is a pinned post explaining the premise of the blog. These are usually in-character, with an OOC section at the bottom.

It's best to warn for possible triggers that might pop up on the blog, as well as explaining your boundaries (i.e. if you don't want Pelipper Mail).

Feel free to theme your blog too, changing the header and icon, adjusting the theme colors, maybe even have a custom theme!

Once you have that all set, you're ready to interact!

Part 4: Interacting

I made a full guide on how to interact here, if you want to check it out!

The main thing is, don't be afraid to interact. Even with big blogs. Everyone's happy to receive interactions! Worst that can happen is that your interaction is ignored.

So don't be scared! Jump in, and start interacting!

Part 5: General Advice from my Friends

I asked around for any additional advice people wanted to add, and here's what some people had to say:

"uhhh ooc communication is super important, especially if youre trying to do a plot with someone or smth along those lines" - @espers-n-espurrs

"Uhhh "Do it scared" Like. If you're nervous about doing something but you wanna do it, do it even though you're scared!!!!! Also like. Have fun. People can tell when you're having fun. Be silly. Do what you want forever. Also that big blogs 9/10 don't mind interactions with smaller ones. I think I count as one and like. I am just as scared as interacting with new people as the smaller blogs who wanna interact with me" @chaos-cousins

"interact with people" - @justalileepguy

"The absolute worst thing that can happen if you send someone an ask is that they delete it. People like getting interaction, even if it's from a blog you don't follow. If you're having trouble interacting, find something your two characters have in common and point it out" - @fated-furret

Part 6: Miscellaneous Stuff

If there's anything I'm missing, feel free to let me know, or add it in a reblog! I've been in this community for a long time, but even I don't know absolutely everything.

If you've read this far, thank you! I hope this guide helps in some way. Reblogging it is appreciated, but not necessary.

And if you're thinking of joining the Pokemon IRL community, then I'm excited to help welcome you!

[httpsserene]

𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐡 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐰/𝐥𝐧𝟒

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: you’re upset with the switch up the internet has pulled on you. a few years ago, everybody was saying you were too pretty for lando, but now they’re drooling over him? you will not be letting this slide.  📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: fluff. mild angst. humor. twt users being twt users. reader is a fashion designer (not important but mentioned). reader is also wild af. brain-rot. not beta-read. 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: lando norris x fem!black!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: smau. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: spice girl • aminé

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: in honor of lando's birthday :) look y’all—i saw one tik tok edit that was like “why is lando kinda…” and i audibly said KINDA???? and then i got mad like, how are people just noticing how fine he is. and then i saw another one that was like, “oh everybody thinks charles is the prettiest on the grid…but now introducing: lando” and i almost threw my phone across the room :) so this is inspired by me flexing that i have always thought lando was fine, and that i’m also mad that i have to share him. loves, this is complete brain rot and it took me years to recreate these ig posts for some reason; have fun reading !!!

all pics are from pinterest/op's

want to be added to my taglist or submit a request? send me an ask!

all of my posts can be found from my table of contents

anything on your mind? talk to me!

twitter • three years ago, 2020

instagram

yninstagram • three years ago, 2020

liked by landonorris, mclaren, maxfewtrell, lewishamilton, and 16,175,978 others

yninstagram lando norris is the man i want to spend the rest of my life with. he’s perfection personified. the most soft, kindest, sweetest, considerate, and funniest man has allowed me the privilege of being his girlfriend. i’m forever thankful that we get to grow together. he’s the cutest, hottest, and prettiest boy to ME–and that’s all i care about, and that’s all you need to accept. i don’t give a FUCK about your opinions on who *i* should date. i’m the only person who’s decisions matter concerning my romantic relationships. why the hell should y’all bitches who don’t even use their own photos for their pfp’s and use a k-idol’s face instead, dictate who is hot or not. it’s incredibly vein, disgusting, and immature behavior from people who think they’re my fans. acting like jealous school children isn't cute; i was never your property. it’s hilarious too, considering some of y’all are grown women DOUBLE my age talking shit about my business–go worry about why your kids don’t want anything to do with you anymore.

tagged landonorris

view comments

yninstagram matter of fact, go ahead and change your little profile pictures to real pictures of you, i don’t want to see any filters. then we can all see that all y’all want to do is spread insecurity stemming from your own self-hatred 🙂

yninstagram and while i have you all here, my winter season clothes will be restocked on the 15th.

comments have been disabled.

twitter • imessage • 2023

instagram

landonorris • august 24th • zandvoort ⚑

liked by yninstagram, mclaren, carlossainzjr, and 547,930 others

landonorris back in my favorite place

view comments

yninstagram first!! stay back hoes 🤺🤺

➥ user being called a hoe by y/n is not what i expected this year

➥ user she has notif’s 😭on 😭 for 😭 lando 😭

yninstagram how r u so HOT 🥵

yninstagram that sweater is mine now 👺

➥ landonorris i can just get another for you love

➥ yninstagram …i want this one lan🫤

➥ landonorris okay it’s yours ���

user neither of them have any backbone when it comes to each other

➥ yninstagram as it should be 😤

user might have to trip and fall into lando’s arms this weekend

➥ yninstagram i’m flying in tomorrow rethink your plan 🙂

➥ user i think i’ll avoid lando like the plague this weekend 😅

➥ user smart decision babes

landonorris • september 12th

liked by yninstagram, lnfour, tumitravel, and 425,395 others

landonorris coming in hot @ tumitravel

view comments

yninstagram come in me—i mean come home to me haha 😳😊

➥ landonorris babe please not in front of the sponsors 😧

➥ tumitravel oh no pls don’t stop for us 🫣 we stan y/n

user i saw this photo shoot LIVE!!! lando was so sweet, he signed my hat for me, and he smells so good 😩😩

➥ yninstagram i’ll chop off your nose and then you can be voldemort for halloween 👺

user i don’t know if i want to choke him or have him choke ME

➥ yninstagram how about me choking you

➥ user omg i’m down for a threesome 😳

➥ yninstagram choking you to death :)

➥ user i don’t wanna play this game anymore

landonorris • september 18th • singapore ⚑

liked by yninstagram, mclaren, oscarpiastri, and 950,706 others

landonorris whatttaaaaa weekend ❤

view comments

yninstagram GODDAMN

carlossainzjr vamossss landito ❤️💪🏼🏆

➥ landonorris ayyyy 🧡🥳🥳

➥ yninstagram my boysssss 🥰

yninstagram that’s my boyfriend 🤤

➥ landonorris last photo is just for you 😋

yninstagram so proud of you baby, i’m running out of room to put all these trophies <3

➥ landonorris v happy to be your trophy husband

user i’m in love with this singapore haircut 🤤 thank you for not fucking it up lando 😅

➥ yninstagram mmm yes, i’m thrilled it’s still long on the top 😍 it gives me something to tug on

user surprised y/n allowed him to post that last one

➥ yninstagram he doesn’t need my permission, but i get to see him naked so i rdc

user quadrant helmet it so beautiful! i want it to stay 😭

➥ user i want him to fuck me with it on

➥ yninstagram out of pocket…but completely valid honestly—delete your account 😊

liked by landonorris

yninstagram carlando 1-2 makes up for the war i’m fighting in these comments

mclaren • novemeber 8th

liked by landonorris, f1, yninstagram, and 97,293 others

mclaren pulling up fresh with @ landonorris

view comments

yninstagram not pictured: @ landonorris pulling up to OUR flat

➥ user y/n said “he’s coming home with meeeee”

f1 does he come with the jacket👀

➥ yninstagram no, but the price of me folding you like a lawn chair is included in shipping & handling

➥ f1 i’ll go sit down 😅

➥ user she’s fighting the f1 main??? this is mentally-ill behavior y/n!!!

yninstagram mclaren admin go stand in a corner and stare at the wall

➥ mclaren they made me post this!!! i would NEVER risk upsetting you ma’am 🙇🏼‍♀️

➥ yninstagram no talking from the timeout corner 🫵🏽

user we don’t care about the jacket. which organ do i have to sell to buy an hour with him?

➥ yninstagram both kidneys

➥ user but you need at least one kidney to live?

➥ yninstagram how,,,unfortunate

user model!lando always glowssssss

➥ yninstagram it’s the 9 step skincare routine i have him on, you can follow steps 1-8 on his ig

➥ user what’s step 9?

➥ yninstagram kissing me 🤭

lando.jpg • novemeber 13th • with my wife ⚑

liked by yninstagram, carlossainzjr, mclaren, team_quadrant, and 976,234 others

lando.jpg lucky to have found you so early in my life. you're my best birthday gift.

tagged yninstagram

view comments

yninstagram posting my side boob on the jpg account? forgiven since you called me your wife 🥺

➥ lando.jpg thought i’d start practicing your future title, mrs. norris

➥ yninstagram come back to bed. you can start practicing giving me your kids too.

user i want y/n to bury my head in between her boobs

➥ lando.jpg no. i sleep there also—you’re blocked 🤗

danielricciardo as long as i’m the godfather, i can forget i’ve ever read this 🤮

➥carlossainzjr get in line mate, i’ve called being baby norris’ godfather ages ago

➥maxverstappen wait your turn mates, clearly i am the correct choice for godfather

➥maxfewtrell ah, i believe you lads have forgotten my existence

➥yninstagram baby norris doesn’t exist yet, no need to fight to the death rn 🙄

➥lando.jpg i’ll convince the mrs to have four, for my racing number and so you each have a godchild 😅

user y/n may have won the war, but i’ve won the battle—bisexuals have been fed today!!!

➥user girl, i’m straight and i’ve zoomed in on the last photo an unhealthy amount of times

➥user i diagnose you with y/n-sexuality it’s incredibly common in humans

liked by lando.jpg

oscarpiastri you two are made for each other 😀

➥lando.jpg this sounds like an insult 🙂

➥yninstagram i thought kids under 13 weren’t allowed on ig

➥oscarpiastri you’re not even a year older than me @ yninstagram

mclaren mama y papa

➥ yninstagram still on timeout.

➥ mclaren :(

taglist: @saintslewis @cherry2stems @lorarri @inloveallthetime @mindless-rock @biancathecool @barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz

© httpsserene2023

[insert-name-heres-things]

Happy Disability Pride Month!!!

Remember Folks:

- SELF CARE IS NUMBER ONE

- Use your spoons sparingly! Here’s some spoons to go: 🥄🥄🥄🥄🥄🥄🥄

- Clean your mobility aids! (Seriously dude when was the last time you wiped that shit down with an antibacterial?)

- Accommodate yourself, as others will follow.

- Make goals within your reach and abilities

- DO YOUR COPINGS SKILLS

- Remember to stay hydrated and take your meds!

- For my fellow heat sensitive homies, stay cool this summer! A cold rag draped behind your neck, airy clothing, a small portable hand fan, keeping ice packs ready, cold water and expecially cold electrolyte drinks, all do wonders!

- For my fellow autistic folks, don’t be afraid wear earmuffs, stim, use chew charms, whatever it is that helps you regulate. You don’t have to mask if it’s something that isn’t benefitting to your life.

- POTS havin mofos like me, salt the ever loving fuck out of your food. Try different foods with salt, such as fruits and vegetables! I’m currently eating a salty tomato. Drink lots of water, I’ve been aiding gateraid packets to my water and it’s made a HUGE difference, especially as someone who hates drinking water.

- Those with PTSD for whatever reason, I wish you safety and support as you learn to cope and hopefully heal.

- I don’t know exactly what to say to others with H-EDS, as I’m still understanding this disorder other then BE CAREFUL WITH YOURSELF THIS PRIDE MONTH. I swear to god we are the most accident prone mother fuckers lmfao-

- If your immune system is all fucky like mine, keep clean and be sanitary, communicate with others that if they’re sick you can’t be around them, and wear a mask if you feel like that’s the right option for you. In my hometown I’ve gotten yelled at more than once for wearing a mask post-covid, however you can’t let someone else’s ignorance result in your own suffering.

- Don’t forget to move around and stretch! A little movement can do a lot for your body.

- Check in with your disabled friends! Try and see if there’s any way you can help one another, see where both of your strengths and weaknesses lie, and swap some spoons!!

- Be aware of what triggers your disorders. Whether if it’s caffeine triggering bipolar episodes, the weather causing fibro flares, big changes causing meltdowns, overexerting your hypermobility, whatever it is, it matters. Listen to your body and mind.

- Don’t be afraid to call out that doctor who isn’t listening, dismissing your symptoms and medically gaslighting you.

- While it may not seem like a big difference for some, trust me when I say your appetite is so important! Remember if it comes down to it, that it’s better to eat something, ANYTHING, than nothing at all. 

- To that person who might be hesitant, ashamed or might be questioning wether or not they should use a mobility aid, if it’s the difference between you being stuck at home vs going out and living some life… USE THAT MOBILITY AID!!! Same goes for braces and any other tool that may help you live a better quality of life.

- Be accepting towards those with disabilities different then your own- remember this month isn’t a competition about who’s struggling the most, rather to understand that people of physical, psychological, sensory, neurodivergence, and even undiagnosed disabilities all share one thing in common.. WHICH IS BEING DISABLED!

- Doesn’t matter who you are, how young or old, black or white, thick or thin - the disabled minority is one you can end up becoming a part of at any time, and likely will if you live long enough. Disability doesn’t discriminate, so EVERYONE should be advocating for disabled people’s rights.

- And of course, have pride in being disabled. This shit is fucking hard, but if you’re reading this, you’re doing it. Just being here today and doing what you can handle or manage, is doing your best, and that’s enough. You don’t have to push yourselves to impossible lengths to be proud of yourself.

Here, have the disability pride flag:

[magicalmanhattanproject]

okay so like. it's important to me that fit's prosthetic arm Fucking Sucks. there are prosthetics in mcyt settings that function almost identically to the limbs that they replace and his is Not One Of Them. it's a simple design he came up with himself that he usually makes out of diamond and wool painted grey to look like more durable steel models but he can make it out of wood and leaves if he has to (and he has)

it's important to me that it's ruthlessly practical. it has exactly two purposes. 1) keep people from realizing he's actually disabled by his disability and 2) hold totem. he's lucky that in 2b that's not much cause to be doing anything else with your offhand so the illusion doesn't need to stand up to much scrutiny

it's important to me that fit's prosthetic arm is dangerous. not in the sexy way, pac. it has two functions. hold and release. on and off. it's not made for holding a child or a lover. it's meant to hold a totem that can only be broken by death. the only two pressure options are nothing or bone-shattering.

it's important to me that this is a realistic fear he has. it's important to me that he teaches ramón and ramón teaches the other eggs to always approach him from the right side. it's important to me that phil already knows to. it's important to me that bad always positions himself between fit's arm and any eggs and fit notices and fit is more grateful than hurt because better two lines of defense than one.

it's important to me that he refuses any new prosthetics. the one he has works. it does its job. he does his job. he doesn't want a prosthetic he doesn't know how to service himself. he loves ramón. he trusts ramón. it's him and ramón against the world. and it's important to me that for all the long, bitter fights ramón had about how he could make fit an arm that's a thousand times better than the one he has, there's part of ramón that's grateful he knows fit has both his arms to deal with whatever comes after him when they're separated. fit certainly wouldn't accept an arm from any of the other genius engineers around him.

it's important to me that fit has genuine and well grounded reasons to be afraid of trying to touch someone without the intention of hurting them. he's lucky that ramón isn't a touchy kid (it's important to me that ramón could have been a touchy kid) but he has no idea how to go about touching a lover.

it's important to me that pac can't even touch the metal hand without fit flinching away like he's been burned. its important to me that fit doesn't think he's capable of anything except destruction. it's important to me that fit is trying to take baby steps and the whole time all he can think about is the part of his body that's physically unable to do that.

it's important to me that fit builds good things anyway

[citrustan]

lovefool [drabble 5] (jjk)

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: angst, fluff, smut

summary: where jungkook shows you how much he likes you. ;) ft. taehyung and yuna :p

wc: 2.8k

note: WELL its here... i smutted. this is a part of the 'lovefool' au. you can also find the main story on my pinned post! this drabble contains smut--- it's mostly smut (kissing, boob stuff, cunnilingus, the tiniest slightest bit of voyeurism, its almost nonexistent). + this takes place way after chapter 6 happens. this is a reupload (sort of) bec i rewrote the thing.

You stretch your legs and point your toes, poking your boyfriend's side.

He then casually grabs your feet, places them on his lap and begins to gently press and massage your heel and toes. He purposely avoids your sole because you’re extremely ticklish.

“My feet are too dry.” You complain. Jungkook glances at your expression and back at your feet.

“Want me to suck on them?” He partially lifts your foot, bringing it closer to his open mouth.

While you resist and playfully kick him, you wonder whether he would actually be into it. You just want him to touch you all over, you want to feel his presence on your entire body and soul.

"Come 'ere." Jungkook grunted with his arms outstretched towards you.

He sat back on his end of the sofa.

Somewhat shy, you comply. You fold your legs back and painstakingly kneel-crawl towards his side on the couch.

Jungkook lovingly engulfs you in a tight hug, disabling any movement for you to make.

"Hi." You coyly smile at him when he pulls back, yet holding you close.

You can smell cologne and cigarette smoke on him. It's so sexy. Smoking is terrible, but you find it really hot when he smells of it. But you'd never tell him that.

Somehow, he already knows. He notices the way you get a lot more nervous around him after he's stepped out for a quick smoke; the way you rub up and down your own arms to self-soothe. You start acting cute, give him stupid, big eyes and look away when he catches you.

You think you're being lowkey but you really aren't. It's funny, but sexy funny.

Jungkook's response is instant, "Hey."

"Wanna kiss." You softly speak, still shy.

"I want to love you." Jungkook whispers as he stares directly into your eyes.

You, however, shy away from his gaze and turn your head to the side, opting to look at the laptop screen instead.

Still somewhat in your kneeling position, you lean forward and put your weight on him, indulging him in another hug.

This time, Jungkook sits up before accepting your hug. You bury your head in his chest.

"Why are you acting shy, hm?" Jungkook mocks. "Let me see your face, red delicious."

You know, like the apples? Because you're blushing. Even if it doesn't show, he knows the blood has rushed to your cheeks now.

You keep your face pressed against his chest.

He was a very patient man.

You deeply sigh before finally gathering the courage to actually turn your words into action.

In one swift movement, you get off his couch and stand before him, urging him to get up as well.

When he does as you wish, you hold his hands and lean in to peck his lips.

You kiss on him once. Then again. And again.

Jungkook smiles and keeps his eyes shut as he allows you to find your vibe.

His jeans begin to tighten around a specific region, but he does his best to ignore the animalistic urge to just grab you and start grinding on you. But, you really liked when he did that. You like it when Jungkook takes charge, but it's important for him to know you're truly comfortable and ready, so he lets you lead first. Consent is sooo sexy.

"Babe..." You pout and look at him through your lashes.

You're acting cute again.

"Uh huh?" He teases, acting as if he doesn't know exactly what you're asking for.

At this, you push yourself towards him and sort of, rest your breasts on him. Your breathing starts to get heavier.

Jungkook looks down at the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest. He can feel your nipples harden.

"You should wear more dresses like these..." His voice trails off as you begin rubbing his bicep.

The two of you stare into each other's eyes. You see the lust brewing in his (eyes).

You bring your hands to the collars of his jacket and smoothen them out. Your cold fingertips momentarily graze the naked skin of his neck.

Jungkook lets out a low moan. "Babe."

"Hm." You then run your hands up and down his chest.

Jungkook plays with the hem of your white sundress, lightly brushing against your thigh in the act.

Starting to become somewhat riled up, you suddenly grab his hands and place them on the back of your bare thigh, under your dress.

Instantly, he understood what you wanted him to do.

Jungkook dives in.

He tugs you closer by the thighs and kisses you deeply.

Although you saw it coming, you still moan in surprise. Actually, it's more in delight rather than the former.

Slowly, he inches up to your butt, and then your waist and back.

With your hands now making their way to play with his hair, you slightly open your mouth to allow him to suck on your tongue.

Your thighs are tightly pressed together as if that were to plug your pussy up as his hands grab at and caress your body.

Jungkook kissed and sucked on your lips and tongue. Your teeth knocked against each other's once or twice.

Your eagerness was adorable.

You continue kissing and moaning until you start feeling Jungkook get bigger and harder in his pants, rutting against your stomach.

Slowly and steadily, you pull away from him with only a thin string of saliva connecting your mouths.

There you stood before him--- your lipstick and gloss smeared on your face, pupils dilated with love and ecstasy, lips swollen and ready to be kissed once again, and drool running down your chin.

A little out of breath, you softly smiled at him.

"Wanna show you something." You look down at your chest and start to unbutton your dress.

Jungkook palms his cock through his jeans for a little relief, still breathing heavily, unable to take his eyes off your pretty chest.

After unbuttoning the first four buttons, you gently move the pieces of clothing on either side of your breasts.

You flash him your newly bought lace balconette bra. It's white, decorated with a pink strip of satin tucked in on the lining, with a perfect, little bow perched in the centre, and sheer.

With hitched breath, Jungkook places both his hands on your shoulders and runs his thumb along your collarbone. "So pretty, baby. The prettiest girl in the world. _____."

Flattered, you push your chest out a little more.

"Can you... Do you want to touch them?" You embarrassingly reword your question. He playfully smirks at your shyness.

"Yeah. Will you let me touch them? Can I kiss them? Can I suck on them? Your nipples are begging to be touched, doll." Jungkook’s thumbs now inch towards the top of your breasts.

You blush and coyly, yet eagerly nod.

On your affirmation, he roughly pulls your bra below your breasts and they pop out with a slight bounce.

Suddenly, you squeak and involuntarily cover your chest with both hands. Your eyes were instinctually squeezed shut and trained down at your feet. His hands slid down to your sides.

Jungkook chuckled, “Babe?”

“Sorry…” You smile embarrassingly.

“Nuh uh," Jungkook smiles as if he were to say 'do not apologise for having boundaries.' "Do you still want to?” He caressed your cheek.

Once again, you nod.

At that, your boyfriend firmly pries your hands away from your chest and propels them around his own shoulders. You massage the nape of his neck.

He urges you to look into his eyes, and when you do, he swiftly dives in and attaches his wet mouth to your nipple.

You gasp and throw your head back in pleasure.

You shift your weight back and forth on your feet, rubbing your thighs together to relieve the hot, burning sensation in your belly.

Jungkook groans into your skin and begins to lick your nipples. He drags his tongue on the circumference of your areola and then from one nipple to the other, occasionally thumbing and softly pinching them.

He gives equal attention to both your tits, suckling and squeezing them. Never letting either one go neglected.

Jungkook teases your nipples with his fingers as he kisses up your neck, making you whimper and gasp. Your fingers are buried in his hair, tugging and soothing his scalp.

His fingers circle and rub on your nubs so rapidly and for so long that it begins to overstimulate you. The discomfort of still being on your feet, in Jungkook's hold, and squirming--- you love it. And you're starting to be more vocal, unable to hold back the little moans that threaten to come out.

"Don't stop... please... it's so... so good-" You whine.

He moans in response, as to say 'okay' and continues the pleasurable abuse on your sensitive nipples and neck.

Jungkook briefly raises his head up to lock you in a sweet kiss which you happily accept.

Before he returns to kissing and inadvertently bruising all over your chest, you stop him with a whisper, "JK..."

You seem of breath. And somehow, still so bashful.

Even when you've bared your chest for him, you're so shy.

"Tell me, doll." As Jungkook waits for you, he pecks you in random places. First, on your forehead, then your throat, then your sternum, your right nipple and so on. You lean into the warm, fuzzy feeling the action brings.

A little distracted, you shake your head. You can't begin to explain what you want.

So you simply resort to a - "Jungkook... I want you."

"You have me, _____." He sincerely smiles and kisses your lips.

"Noo..." You cutely exasperated, furrowing your brows. "Ugh."

"Yes?" Now you had Jungkook's full attention. He stops kissing on you to look you in the eyes.

The expression on your face shows that you're using every, little brain cell to get this out of you. Your boyfriend stares on endeared and almost laughs.

"Wantyoutotouchmethere." You blurt out in a single breath and look down at your bodies, resting your forehead on his chest.

"Oh." Jungkook smirked, "That's all?"

You pull back and roll your eyes at him. "Yeah," You mock, "That's all."

Jungkook snorts and immediately returns to lick your nipples just to rile you up a bit more.

The sudden assault makes you roughly push away from him. "JK! I'm- it's like. So-" You groan, a little frustrated and a lot flustered.

What you really want is for him to eat your pussy. Your girl is like yearning to be savoured.

Now, Jungkook laughs out loud. "I know, baby. I just wanted to cherish you." He pouts towards the end.

Shyly smiling again, you sit back on the sofa.

Like a moth to the flame, Jungkook turns to face you and kneels before you.

Ever ready to give you what you indirectly asked for, he taps your limbs. "Open up."

When you hesitantly part your legs a few inches wide, Jungkook lifts your feet off the floor by your knees and then sort of just... folds you. Your thighs were pressed to your chest.

He smiles up at your flushed visage. You stare at him with big eyes, patiently waiting, yet eager for his next move.

Your core is presented to him on a platter as if he were some kind of king waiting to feast.

He rubs you all over your inner thigh, leading to your lips.

Your mismatched white cotton panties with a black bow in the centre hinder his view of your pussy. The underwear somewhat resembles your bra, he thinks it's from the same line, only a different colour. (pink satin lining bra/ black satin lining panties.)

Jungkook's cock is painfully hard, but he chooses to please you first. Although, eating you out going to get him off too.

You tenderly place your hands atop your knees and nibble on your manicured fingers in anticipation.

Jungkook leans down to kiss you through your panties and takes your scent in. His mouth is already watering. He then places one, harsh lick over it making you shiver.

He smirks up at you, and mouths at your swollen lips over the fabric before slowly pulling them to the side. You whimper and jerk and reach down to hold your panties to the side for him.

Jungkook smiles down at you. He's practically drooling.

Your pussy glistens in the sunlight.

He traces your slit with gentle touch making you quiver and clench around nothing.

You clench your toes in order to contain the rush of excitement taking over you.

Jungkook reaches out to hold your free hand which you gladly accept. And you kiss his fingers.

Then, finally, he places a soft kiss on your cunt. And then another one, not as soft. And another one a little harder. Every touch makes you moan a little louder. And finally, he deeply kisses and tongues your pussy, making you yelp in surprise.

He forces your lips open with only his thumb and index finger and dives in. You throw your head back and whine loudly.

Jungkook purposely avoids your clit but eats all around it, over, under, and on the sides. It drives you up the wall. You're wiggling around and Jungkook releases your hand to hold you down forcefully.

Forcing away your hand that holds your panties to the side, he relies on his own face to keep your underwear out of the way.

His tongue occasionally prods at your tight, wet hole. Jungkook groans in satisfaction, hurriedly licking up every bit of your sweet, and sticky essence.

Jungkook then instructs you to play with your tits, and you do as he wishes, pressing down circles on your sensitive nipples. He wishes he had more than two hands to touch you everywhere at once so you can be his pretty little pillow princess.

Your eyes are tightly screwed shut and you don't know what to do with your head. Your squeals and cries are consistently loud. All you know is that you can't stay still. It's too much!

Your boyfriend grabs your thighs, pulls you closer to him, and spreads your legs wider, "Mmhh, JK... Pleeeaseee..." - Mentally, you joyfully thank your younger self for doing all the yoga that made you susceptible to all the stretching, bending, and manhandling Jungkook is subjecting you to.

Running his hands all over your inner thighs, he jeers.

You feel so hazed, and dazed, and overcome with pleasure- "Oh!" You almost sob as your boyfriend suddenly wraps his mouth around your clit. He moans back in response.

At this point, your train of thought is simply nonsensical. "Yes....aarghh, you're so, so... meaan, JK!"

Jungkook rapidly licks your sensitive, little bundle of nerves. He makes your eyes roll to the back of your head and your toes point to the heavens. You're near to tears as you cry, "I wan' marry you, JK... I will make you cakes... and I will kiss you and love you... forever and ever and pleaseee... moreee...!" You feel him smile into your cunt.

When you start to grind against his mouth and harshly grope your own body, Jungkook knows you're close. Wanting to prolong this, Jungkook goes back to licking all over your swollen lips when, all of a sudden, you hear a loud cackle.

Immediately following that comes the most annoying screech you've ever heard.

Ok, you know that noise.

Your eyes snap open and you look around to find the source of those sounds: Taehyung AND Yuna.

A little pussy-drunk, Jungkook takes a while to pull away so you had to force his head away from your sensitive princess parts.

He finally looks behind him.

At his door, stood Taehyung, and Yuna who had now covered her eyes. Taehyung, of course, just gawked shamelessly.

He instantly snaps your legs shut, holding them together, and cusses in anger, "Dude, what the fuck?"

You're confused, still quivering, and very horny. Taehyung's sight falls on you. Your hair's a little wild, your mouth slightly agape, your face red, and you're virtually crying tears (of pleasure that now turn into ones of frustration.) He can't seem to look away.

Forcing himself to snap out of it, he plays it off teasingly, "Dudeeee. Don't let us stop you, we're only here for the oven." Taehyung laughs and struts into the room.

"Nice tits, _____." Taehyung directs at you.

Still hazy, you smile sweetly, "Thanks!"

Jungkook and Yuna's heads snap towards you in shock.

Wow... What had he done to the shy _____?

You only sighed dreamily and slumped even deeper into the couch, your orgasm long forgotten.

Jungkook then took it upon himself to re-robe your naked tits.

Soon, Yuna walks into the room and sits diagonal to you, instantly busying herself with her phone. Neither of you acknowledge each other.

Typically, you'd be humiliated and embarrassed about being caught nude, but right now? You're ecstatic even though you didn't get to cum.

You're childishly enjoying Yuna's forced nonchalance and bitter expression, cheesing so hard on the inside that your lips involuntarily start curving upwards.

And as if Jungkook sees right through you, he leans in and kisses you. "Stop that, you little monster." He reprimanded half-heartedly.

[bandtrees]

this has always been one of my favorite lines in this scene it’s so striking to me. i think debating over callum’s level of lucidity and what can or cannot “fix” him is deeply antithecal to what the story is trying to express with him - but the idea that callum is still there and still a person who does have the capacity to love mingus, just not in a way she can ever comprehend or accept, because she can't comprehend or accept anything outside her narrow worldview, is sooooo good.

there is no way of actually knowing if callum is proud of mingus, much less recognizes her at all - but it's added to by the fact there's only so much of that she would accept even if he could. ultimately, she wants validation and power, his prestige, from him, she wants a supportive parental figure she never had - there's only so much of that callum is able to provide even in a world where her stint to fix his memory actually worked. he's like a hundred. he never even MET her. to say nothing of all he's missed in the past fifty-odd years. to say nothing of how his age may have messed with his mind deteriorating even without the pre-existing brain damage.

and mingus' phrasing here implies he doesn't even look at her when she visits - which brings me to the visit that radicalized her: the one after her surgery, where he was watching gingi out the window.

obviously, callum watching gingi is mostly for the thematics of it all, how similar the two of them are in ways mingus refuses to recognize, but theres also the thought of... callum's been sitting alone in that room for over half his life, barely lucid if at all. of course he's going to be drawn to a brightly-colored thing making noises and knocking stuff over outside. if he can't respond to stimuli of the people around him he's at the very least going to latch onto something more visually interesting than Brown Wall and Brown Figure.

but it's not like mingus can think of it like that, because she's internalized so much about her grandfather and built up such a specific, personalized vision of him - she doesn't see him as an elderly man with (a fictional equivalent to) dementia, she sees him as President Callum Crown™, the man she personally has to please and live up to the legacy of and make proud, disregarding the fact that's not something he has the mental capacity to even do - because she's so obsessed with validation and complete control that the only way she can get it is by either subjugating others and forcing it out of them (what she does with her townsfolk), or just completely projecting on someone who, for her purposes, is basically a blank slate.

which is maddening to her in its own way, see how crazy she drives herself trying to restore callum's memory in the first place - but also, would she be happy even if callum could see her for who she is? post-game, when she's working on herself, that's an irrelevant question as she's pushed past that need, but as we know her? absolutely not.

i love the ch3 standoff between norm and mingus as a show of "Okay guys let’s see who can dehumanize this disabled guy harder (via pedestal-putting) and justify themselves for it better" and why i think it is so important that it’s gingi who reads the postcard and ultimately speaks for callum instead of either of them, or even the narrator. they can’t read, and they struggle to, but they manage to get it right even when people are telling them to stop. and the fact they’re able to do it at all, are given the chance to do so, and are ultimately the one to wind down this conflict shows that the world of dialtown, while not perfect, really is how callum would have wanted it.

both gingi and callum are some of the most altruistic and human characters ever, and the crux of their parallels is that they are denied this by close-minded people because they happen to Behave Strangely. it's why seeing mingus act the way she does hits so hard - she loves her paw-paw, yes, but if she were to see him in a vacuum, a one-limbed man who can hardly think, much less speak for himself: or even his younger self, who was struggling to make ends meet with his odd inventions...

...well, the feeling norm's imagining here would probably be mutual. mingus' relationship with bigotry is a very fascinating one, she's very close-minded but views certain oddities (ie her flesh-head) as having earned their place and thus being fine - she's a freak too, by her own admission, but she's doing it for a just and wider purpose, so it's fine. which is, ironically, the ideology callum forced upon himself.

callum was obsessed with helping people, pushing himself to do more and more, because it was the only way he ever found respect. if he didn't help people and have grand visions for the world and make himself "useful" to society at large, then what would he be, if not a freak?

mingus and her paw-paw are very similar people, from their well-intentioned extremism, to their stubbornness and paranoia, to their inability to view themselves as anything more than a vessel for that grand cause they believe in (callum in the dialup, mingus in restoring her paw-paw's memory) - which is funny, because if mingus was able to view callum, and herself, as a flawed human person, she would come to understand how similar they really are.

:(

[somewhere-in-the-rain]

I don’t know if anyone else saw this but hello?? I love this???

A part of me really hates the hyper-misogynistic societies we get in so many fantasy books (*cough cough* Sarah J Maas) and one thing I love so much about The Empyrean is the gender equality in their world.

At Basgiath, Violet is targeted due to her size and her disability, but never for being a woman. The same goes for the queer characters in the world—they’re just accepted for being who they are. This is so important to me because I read fantasy to get away from the real world. I don’t read it for the main characters to have to deal with the same issues as I do in real life.

(I know Rebecca Yarros is not the only author to write a fantasy world like this, but my blog is a good 75% Empyrean-focused so I’m using it as an example)

link to article here

[fireya-x]

AO3 Link (full tag list) || masterlist

Your husband, Captain John Price, insists on teaching you how to shoot at the range. But you soon realize that his instructions involve a lot more than just handling a gun.

[4k+ words]

cw: piv sex, spanking, light dom/sub

“Remember what I just told you,” John said, and your grip around the cool material of the gun you held grew tighter. It was a foreign object in your hands, and even though you’d just received detailed instructions on how to hold and handle it, it didn’t feel right. You’d hesitantly taken it from his hands, and felt something unexpected, as if accepting a dangerous secret from him. It felt intimate, like a shared moment of vulnerability. He entrusted you with this part of himself, this dangerous expertise, never doubting for a second that you would accept it.

Then there you were, in the middle of a shooting range, and John was moving through the facility as comfortable as he was moving through your own living room. You’d been to the base a few times, of course, meeting teammates and other partners, but never with the intention to hold a weapon.

You’d told him, more than once, that you wanted no part in this side of his life. That ignorance was your safe haven, your way of pretending that the man you loved could leave the battlefield behind. But deep down, you knew it was a lie. John Price, for all his tenderness, for all the quiet moments of domesticity you’d built a life around, was a soldier to his very core. He breathed and lived it as long as his heart pumped blood through his veins.

It was in the way he moved, precise and controlled, and it was in the way he touched you – possessive, protective, as if you were the most precious weapon in his arsenal.

He insisted it was for your own safety. “You need to be able to protect yourself, love,” he’d said. But you saw right through it. This wasn't about you. It was about him. About the nightmares that lingered in his eyes, the enemies he'd made in a life you couldn't begin to comprehend. This was his way of ensuring that no matter what happened, no matter how far apart duty tore you, he could rest easy knowing you had a fighting chance. It bordered on paranoid, the lengths he’d go to protect you – the home security systems, the calls to his former teammates, the subtle checks whenever you were out alone. But beneath all that, you saw the love, and you wouldn’t deny him this. You’d never shied away from his darkness, the stories he’d told that both terrified and fascinated you.

It was all part of the complex man that was John Price: both a trained, lethal weapon and a caring, loving husband.

Gentle but ruthless. Controlled, but capable of destruction. Dangerous in ways you probably never could even begin to understand, but you felt safer with him than you ever had alone.

He was a walking oxymoron.

“I’ve never even held a gun before, John.” You admitted, your words echoing through the vastness of the range, uncertain how to explain the weird mix of emotions you were feeling.

“I know,” he said, his lips curving into that half-smile. “And I can see you hesitating, and that’s the correct first step, love. Respect is most important.”

He’d guided you to a secluded booth, the table stocked with more ammunition than you’d ever expected to see outside a warzone. He’d shown you how to hold the pistol, how to check the chamber, reload the magazine and how to disable security. He’d shown you the stance, the subtle shift of weight so that the recoil wouldn’t punch you in the gut, and told you that it’s best to use both hands to aim, to steady yourself.

“Finger off the trigger, sweetheart,” he suddenly instructed, his tone serious. You hadn’t even realized you’d moved it, your finger was hovering over the trigger with reckless curiosity, and you couldn't quite explain why. "Only put it on there if you really mean to take a shot.”

He put his hands above yours on the grip of the pistol, then chuckled lightly. “Loosen up a little. Don’t make that a habit.” He then grabbed your elbow and lifted it up a little, so gentle, it was a weird contradiction to how controlled he moved around the shooting range like he was never meant to be anywhere else.

He stepped back, giving you just enough space to breathe, to remember you weren’t his soldier to command. But he could tell you still weren’t sure about your stance.

“Want me to show you?” He gestured to the target at the end of the range – a silhouette that seemed eerily human-shaped in the dim light.

You nodded, surrendering the weapon and retreating to a safe distance as John stepped forward, his movements fluid, almost graceful, belying the lethality he embodied.

He pushed the safety lever off with a sharp click. You could almost feel the energy in the air shift. You saw his hand gripping the weapon as it became more serious and alive, like not just a tool, but an extension of him.

John raised the gun. You were captivated, your gaze tracing the line of his arm, the flex of his bicep beneath the fabric of his shirt. It shouldn’t have been so mesmerizing, watching him handle a weapon clearly meant to kill, and yet, you couldn't tear your eyes away.

His stance was relaxed, almost casual. He didn't even flinch as he pulled the trigger.

The gunshot echoed in the silence, sharp and startling. You flinched involuntarily at the sound. It wasn’t that you weren’t expecting it – but there was something different, something almost intimate, about watching him handle a weapon with such lethal grace, such unflinching control.

There was no time to feel anything but awe as John lowered the weapon, his eyes fixed on you. The air was thick, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him.

“Now you,” he said as he clicked the safety back on and stepped aside. He didn’t need to say anything more. You were ready, he had made sure of that, and he was waiting to see if you would rise to the challenge.

“Downrange, safety off,” you muttered to yourself, remembering his words. Your finger found the safety, disengaging it with a soft click that felt overly loud in the quiet space. You tried to replicate the stance. Feet shoulder-width apart, a slight bend in your knees that made your thighs ache. Taking a deep breath, you raised the pistol, lined the sights up on the target at the far end of the range, ignoring the tremor in your arms, and squeezed the trigger.

The shot caught you completely off guard. The recoil was sharper, more violent than you'd expected. It jolted your entire body, throwing you off balance. You stumbled back, a startled yelp escaping your throat before you could help yourself, the heavy weight of the gun almost slipping from your grasp.

You missed the target entirely.

“Easy, love, easy,” John's voice, calm and steady, was right beside your ear. You hadn’t even registered his approach, your senses still reeling from the gunshot, the adrenaline that spiked through you sharp and bitter on your tongue.

You hadn't realized you'd stopped breathing until his hand settled on your waist, his touch firm yet reassuring through the fabric of your shirt, steadying you. Your body leaned into his warmth, seeking comfort, and found it in the solid presence that had always been your haven in the storm.

“Don't fight it,” he murmured. “It’s not about forcing the shot. You need to work with it. Let it flow.”

“Easy for you to say,” you muttered, but you didn’t try to pull away. His closeness was more reassuring than you wanted to admit, the solid weight of him a stark contrast to the unexpected power of the gun. You’d felt this way before, countless times: small beside his strength, intimidated but inexplicably drawn to the same danger that made you feel so vulnerable.

“Again,” he commanded softly, ignoring your remark, as his hand tightened momentarily on your hip. You couldn’t disobey, even if you’d wanted to. His other hand covered yours on the gun.

You tried to recall the stance he’d demonstrated, to feel more confident, but it felt awkward. Your body was tense, and you cursed the way your heart hammered against your ribs.

“You have to relax, darling,” John murmured, his voice a low rumble against your ear, his breath sending a shiver down your spine.

He leaned closer, his chest a wall of heat at your back as his hand moved from your hip to settle on the small of your back. “Don't let that little gun take all the control,” he whispered, his fingers splaying against your spine as he adjusted your posture, holding you steady. “It's not about brute strength. Lean into it, find the balance.”

His heat seeped into you, chasing away the chill of the shooting range and replacing it with a heat that centred between your legs, a yearning you hadn't anticipated. His touch was doing things to your senses, sending a jolt of something hot and reckless straight through you.

You could feel his fingers, calloused and rough, brushing against yours as he made you hold the gun right.

“See, like that – now, the grip –” You could hear the amusement in his voice, the way he seemed to savour your discomfort. He wasn’t going to make this easy for you, and something in you – something wild and hungry – revelled in the challenge. His fingers traced a searing path down your arm, his touch lingering for a heartbeat on your wrist as he guided your hand.

“Use your wrist – just like that –” You shivered as his breath ghosted across your ear. “That’s it. That’s how you hold it. It's all about control.” He pressed closer, your bodies moulding together.

His hand covered yours on the gun again, overlapping it as you held the weapon together. This different kind of intimacy touch sent a spark down your spine, scorching away every last thought, as you tried to focus on the instructions. “Now pull the trigger.”

You did. And this time, you hit the target. The bullet tore through the paper silhouette, a testament to his guidance, his control.

It was impossible to ignore how close he was. His fingers grazed your back, sending a shiver through you, and then – oh, God – you felt it, the insistent pressure of his knee between your thighs, adjusting your stance, bracing you.

“Feet apart, love,” he murmured, his voice husky as his knee nudged you wider, his hand a steady pressure on the small of your back. You felt like a toy in his hands.

You fired again. This time, it was a little closer to the target, but still far away from the bullseye.

“That’s better,” he murmured, but there was an edge to his amusement now, something heated. You tried to ignore the pressure of him against you.

“Look at that target, focus on the sights, love.” He shifted, his lips finding the delicate skin beneath your ear, and you sucked in a breath. He was doing this deliberately now, pushing your buttons, testing your limits, and the worst part was that he knew you were powerless to resist. 

You fired again. Same corner.

“That’s not good enough.” His lips hovered over your pulse. “Hit the target and you’ll be rewarded. Hmm? How’s that sound?”

A familiar heat built in your belly. The knee that was still holding your stance steady felt way too prominent. This position did nothing to hide his arousal, either.

You focused on the sights, tried lining it up with the middle of the target. The shockwave was not completely absorbed by John’s strength as he held you, and you were shoved back against his chest. You hit the target's neck.

“Good girl,” he said. “You’re a fast learner.”

Every time he’d utter that phrase, every time he brushed his fingers against your hand as he guided you, it was like a surge of heat coursing through your veins. You were flustered, struggling to keeop your focus.

“Stop it,” you pleaded. “You’re distracting me.”

You aimed again, after he’d adjusted your stance, his breath ghosting over your neck as he leaned close to make a correction. “Yes, just like that.”

That was your undoing, each word he said was laced with a playful, knowing intent. His hands guided you, but it wasn’t about the gun, or the lessons, it was all about the feel of him close to you.

You fumbled, almost dropping the gun.

“What’s wrong?” He laughed.

Your cheeks burned. “I –I can’t concentrate.”

You were so lost in showing him that you could do this, you didn’t realize what he started to do. Lips on your neck, and his hand suddenly slowly snaked below the waistband of your gym shorts.

You froze. “John! Isn’t this place covered in cameras?”

“Made sure they’re out of order tonight.” He leans in a little closer as if to whisper it in your ear, his breath warmer than the summer air. “It would take so much paperwork to have you here otherwise. Besides, my wife deserves a private lesson from her husband.”

You shuddered at the words, at the implied claim in them. You aimed again, but missed.

A sharp sting on your backside made you gasp, a sound that morphed into a startled moan as you registered what had just happened. He'd spanked you. It shouldn't have been arousing, not here, not now, yet a thrill shot through you as much at the audacity of it as the sensation itself.

“Do I have to punish you for missing shots?” He sounded so deceptively soft, sending a shiver down to the place where his knee still pressed insistent between your thighs. He was fully aroused, you realized, a thrill shooting through you at the knowledge, the feeling of it a branding iron against your overheated skin. 

“Wasting ammo like that?” He punctuated the question with another swat, harder this time, his hand lingering on your ass, his fingers flexing as though torn between wanting to punish you further and pulling you impossibly closer.

It was impossible to think straight, let alone concentrate on lining up the damn shot.

“J-John,” you stammered, hating the way your voice sounded – breathless, needy – even as you pressed back against him, seeking out the heat that radiated off him in waves, making your head spin. You were caught in a delicious, dangerous game, and the only way to win was to surrender completely.

But you weren’t quite there yet. You needed to hit this damn shot. Pride warred with something hotter, wilder, as you struggled to ignore the insistent pressure of his erection against your backside.

Just as you thought you could regain some semblance of focus, his other hand, the one that had rested so innocently below the waistband of your shorts, began to descend further. It was a slow, deliberate movement, and then you felt it – a finger, rough-tipped and insistent, slipping between your folds.

Pleasure shot through you like a bullet, so unexpected and potent that your entire body went rigid. You bit back a moan, the sound dying in your throat as you clenched around his intruding digit, the ache that bloomed low in your belly a thousand times more distracting than any recoil. 

“Again,” he commanded, his voice low and hot against your ear, as if nothing out of the ordinary were happening, as if his fingers weren’t actively attacking your most sensitive flesh, driving you to the edge of madness. He held all the cards in this game he'd initiated. And you were a willing participant, your body already betraying you, arching unconsciously against his touch, seeking out the friction he so expertly offered even as you tried to focus on the task at hand.

You lined up the sights again, his scent filling your senses, so distracting and so dangerously addictive that it had you clinging to him, desperate for something you couldn't quite name. The barrel wavered as a tremor ran through you, and you swore you heard his breath hitch as your hips moved against him.

“Close,” John breathed, and you felt as his fingers snaked further along your folds. You gasped as a finger slowly pushed into you. “Good girl.” His other hand had a tight grip on your hip, his fingers digging into the flesh as though he’d hold you there forever, trapped between pleasure and denial. “But not there yet, love. Again.”

The shot, when it came, was pathetic. The recoil almost knocked the gun from your grasp. The bullet ricocheted off somewhere, you weren't even sure where it landed. It hardly mattered. 

Another sharp swat of John’s hand against your ass. It should’ve stung, but all you felt was the heat of him, the pressure of his body against yours. His other hand, the one driving you wild with each deliberate stroke, didn't stop even as you whimpered, your hips rocking back instinctively against his touch, seeking relief, release.

“Concentrate, love,” he growled.

But how could you? How could you possibly focus on anything but the insistent ache that throbbed between your legs? 

“John, please,” you breathed, arching against his touch, shamelessly seeking more. “Just – just let me –” The words dissolved into a whimper as his fingers found that sensitive bud of flesh and squeezed, not cruelly, not yet, but with enough force to make you gasp, your inner thighs clenching involuntarily.

“Then hit the bloody mark, love,” he commanded, his voice rough with an emotion you couldn’t quite place, a tremor running through his words as though he were fighting for control just as hard as you were.

You squeezed your eyes shut against the wave of frustration – no, need – that pulsed low in your belly. The pressure of his erection against your backside was a constant torment, a promise of a release he seemed determined to deny you.

“Again,” John barked, his control finally snapping as his hips twitched against you. His touch, the way he moved against you, fuelled a fire in your veins hotter than anything you'd ever experienced. It was intoxicating, terrifying, and utterly addictive. 

You were a moth drawn to his flame, even knowing you were destined to be burned.

You squeezed your eyes shut as his touch sent another jolt through you. “Please, just –”

“Hit. The. Mark.” He growled, teeth clenched, while moving his hips against you, seeking friction for his own arousal. 

You wanted to scream, to sob, to demand he touch you properly, to take what you were aching for. But some primal instinct – some deep-seated need to please him – had you straightening, lifting the pistol with shaking hands.

You tried to concentrate, blocking out the burning heat of his hands, the feel of his erection hard and demanding against your backside, the way his every ragged breath whispered against your ear, fuelling the fire he'd ignited within you. Your mind was a fog of need, your senses overloaded, but the promise of release, that sweet reward only he held the power to give - it was a drug more potent than anything you'd ever imagined.

Lining up the pistol again, you forced your vision to clear, found the target through the haze of arousal, and squeezed the trigger. 

The sound of the gunshot, the feel of the recoil, your own ragged gasp of surprise - it all blended into one overwhelming sensation as time slowed, distorted. And then strong hands were on you, urging you forward with a force that stole your breath, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, not when the need to be touched, to feel him everywhere, was an inferno consuming every other thought.

You hadn’t even registered what had happened until you caught a glimpse of the target -

Headshot.

You'd hit the mark.

You barely had time to process your victory before the gun was taken from your hands and safely put away - then you were tumbling forward, the world tilting, the cool surface of the table a shock against your heated skin as John's weight pressed you down, his chest a solid wall at your back.

The clatter of the spare ammo as it scattered across the floor was the only warning you got before he moved. You gasped, the sound muffled against the cold metal, your senses reeling as he yanked your shorts and panties down in one swift, brutal motion, baring you to the cool air, to his gaze, which you could feel burning into you.

He didn't waste his breath on anything but a low growl as he shifted, the sudden sound of a belt buckle ringing in your ears. His weight was pressing you deeper into the table, his erection, hard and insistent, nudging at your entrance. And then, in one swift, possessive thrust, he filled you, the force of it stealing what was left of your sanity, chasing away everything but the all-consuming need to feel him move, to feel him claim you as his.

The world shrunk to the feel of him: him anchoring you to the table, the possessive grip of his hand on your hip, holding you still as he moved within you. His thrusts were deep, powerful, each one a delicious torment that had you arching into him, crying out his name against the cold metal of the table.

“That's it, love,” he growled, his voice thick and primal, something that went far beyond the controlled man you thought you knew. 

You suddenly felt his entire weight hovering above your back, slowing pressing your full body into the table. The angle changed, and his movements became more intense. You felt his teeth graze your earlobe, and then he murmured against your skin. “You’re mine. All mine. Say it .”

“Yours,” you gasped, the word a broken plea. The hand on your hip felt like a hot brand against your skin, as if it was marking you, claiming you in a way that went far beyond reason. “Please, John –”

“Please what, darling?” He chuckled, a low, rough sound against your ear, but his hips never stuttered, never slowed their relentless rhythm. “Tell me. What do you need?”

“You ,” you sobbed, the need, raw and desperate, clawing its way out of you with every thrust.

As if he sensed you nearing the precipice, the edge of control he’d deliberately pushed you towards, John shifted. The pressure of his chest eased, but before you could mourn the loss of his warmth, his free hand shot out, fingers closing around the back of your neck, not cruelly, but with an unquestionable force that demanded obedience.

He lifted you from the table, and then his mouth was on yours. It wasn’t a gentle kiss, not with your bodies angled as they were, but it was possessive, desperate. The scrape of his beard against your cheek was a delicious torment, and you couldn't help but press closer, seeking more, needing to be closer still.

“I’m yours, my love,” he rasped, his breath hot and uneven against your cheek. “You have me.”

You met his gaze, those ice-blue eyes were smoldering with a need that mirrored your own, and something reckless, almost feral, took hold of you. 

“Then fuck me like you own me,” you breathed.

The effect was instantaneous. He didn't just snap, he shattered. The control that was as much a part of him as his own skin, gone. Vaporized. The growl that ripped from his throat had no semblance of human restraint left in it, the sound raw, feral, echoing dangerously in the silence of the range. You might have been his wife, but at that moment, you were something far more elemental: his to claim, his to conquer, his to brand so deeply with pleasure and pain that you'd never forget who you belonged to.

And he moved like it too: a rough shove pressed you back against the table, his hands grabbed yours, pulling them back, restraining you.

Your whole body trembled as his cock thrust so deep, so utterly possessing, that you cried out.

“John!” – a plea, a prayer, you weren’t sure.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” The words were a gasped groan, torn from him as his hips moved against yours, stroking a spot deep inside you that throbbed with desperate need. You whimpered, and your hands clenched into fists against your back as pleasure shot through you.

You instinctively began to meet his thrusts, your hips rocking back against him, seeking out the friction that sent sparks of need through your overloaded senses. It earned you a growl of approval.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted, the words a litany against your ear. He sounded like a man possessed.

“Please, John,” you whimpered, grinding your hips against him, desperate for that friction, that release. But it wasn't enough. It would never be enough. You needed more, needed his hands, needed him. “Touch me, I –”

You didn’t need to finish the plea. He heard it. He felt it, the tremor in your voice, the way your slick heat tightened around him, urging him closer to the edge.

His fingers were tracing the curve of your waist, reaching around below your belly and slowly started to pry apart your folds. His fingers were on your clit again, and a sound that was both a cry and a sigh left your lips. You were drowning in sensation, and it was glorious.

“Mmm, that’s it, love,” he rasped, the words a broken groan as his fingers stroked, circled, teased. “Come on my cock. For me.”

You felt it then, with the help of his touch – that sweet, white-hot bliss that washed over you, causing your legs to tremble and your cunt to contract around his cock. He groaned, so deep and primal it shook you to your core. Your orgasm shattered every last bit of control in him, the feeling of you losing yourself pushed him over the edge, too. You felt that familiar throb in your pussy, the way he painted your walls with his come, hot and thick. His fingers dug so deep into your skin you were sure they'd leave marks.

And you wouldn’t mind. You were his, after all.

He finally released you, his hands leaving yours. “Nice shot, love. You just needed the right motivation.” He chuckled, and you felt as he pulled up your panties and put your pants back into their place. His hand ghost over your pussy through the fabric. “Keep me in there,” he whispered. “Consider it your reward.”

You slowly straightened your back as you stood, your gaze meeting his, and you shook your head in disbelief, a smirk playing on your lips. “Is that an order from a captain? Or a request from my husband?”

“Both.” He grunted, as he finished buckling his belt.

You tilted your head slightly, stepping closer to him. “Well, then. If this is shooting training, we need to do that more often.”

He froze, his eyes shooting to meet yours. “Don't make me have to explain why so much footage from the security feed is missing.” His expression sobered, that playful glint fading as he added, voice low and serious, “But seriously, love, you did good. We'll keep practising, alright?”

You nodded, and then he closed the distance between you. His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb gently brushing away some smudged lipstick at the corner of your mouth. “I'm proud of you, you know,” he whispered, and before you could reply, he leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was surprisingly tender. There was no demanding heat this time, no desperate urgency - just the taste of him, and the lingering warmth where his come pooled between your thighs, a silent, undeniable reminder of exactly who you belonged to.