#hes so...omnipresent and sensitive

[your-subby-creature]

Tdick is literally a gift from the gods. You agree wholeheartedly and with gusto.

[maplemind]

Does anyone else think that Arthur would be at least sensitive to magic, if not actually have a tiny bit of magic himself?

I mean he was born of magic, it would make sense that something would have made its way into his DNA.

But it’s clear that he doesn’t know it on a conscious level, that he’s completely unaware (or perhaps wilfully ignorant).

I mean, we’re always being told how he’s Camelot’s greatest warrior, how he’s a genius at tactical planning and managing his knights… what if that’s the magic part?

Maybe he had “dreams” that showed him battle plans? Maybe he just knew the right things to do, and who to put where, and how things should be done?

Maybe he saw things no-one else could, or at least saw things in a different way. Maybe he was a little bit omnipresent, or could do some mild divination without realising it, or just had a feeling about certain future events that was always right.

Maybe he was connected to those around him, to people he loves, and to his knights in a different way. Maybe he could always sense them, or always knew where they were, or could somehow see them even though they were an impossible distance away. I mean, he always sensed when something was wrong with Merlin. Always. Even if he didn’t fully comprehend what kind of “something wrong” it was.

What if that’s why he never got suspicious of Merlin, no matter how many times it was obvious there was something a bit different about Merlin or something not quite explainable about a situation? Because the magic in him recognised the magic in Merlin and didn’t find it at all threatening - in fact, it found a kindred spirit.

Maybe that’s why Arthur got so strange when he eventually found out about Merlin’s magic - some subconscious part of him always knew and was sad that it could have had a companion, a sidekick, all this time? (That and the frustration that “we could have done it together”).

And, you know, it’s not really totally human and non-magic to be “The Once and Future King Who Will Rise From the Dead”, is it???

But also, what if some part of Merlin / Merlin's magic knew. What if that's part of why Merlin is so attracted, so attached, so connected to Arthur, even just at a subconscious level?

Imagine if all this had been played out in the series. Imagine if we’d found out Arthur has magic.

Well. I’m rewatching the series right now, and I can’t un-see it, so it’s canon in my head now.

[hana-no-seiiki]

YANDERE ! BATFAM W/ MILES MORALES (BUT GENDER NEUTRAL) ! READER

[ SERIES MASTERLIST ] [ PREVIOUS PART] [ NEXT PART ]

GENERAL CW/TW: Spoilers for Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse. Typical Yandere themes of stalking, violence, and whatnot.

PART CW/TW:

current status: unedited

summary: after free falling into your senior’s arms and having an extremely awkward exchange. you make a new friend as peter seems to know another vigilante that may be able to help. damian calls dick for help. christmas is about to get messy as the final showdown with kingpin is closing in.

Reply if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

WHAT’S UP DANGER

(PART THREE)

“Two thousand off thermometers, two thousand surrounding us, travel two thousand kilometers to hang out with us,

What’s up danger? (Danger) What’s up danger? (Danger)”

Tim was alert most of the time.

He had to be if he wanted to maintain safety.

But that didn’t mean he was expecting a cutie to just fall into his arms.

Still the fact that he managed to catch you and is nonchalantly carrying the weight of all the pasteles your mom sent this morning and whatever concoction of food you’ve had to eat courtesy of faster metabolism for a couple of seconds now is impressive.

It’d be love at first fall if it weren’t for the fact that you were stressed out with the multiverse potentially collapsing into itself.

Before he could answer the question that both of you said in sync you push yourself off and make sure he doesn’t spot any potentially undissolved webbage.

“ Sorry, um, turns out self learning parkour isn’t a totally smart idea. “

Seeing you more clearly now. Tim recognizes your appearance as the person whose dad forced them to say I love you out loud during the first day of classes.

Sure, he was jampacked with activities both in his civilian and vigilante life but that didn’t mean he’d forget an event like that.

He remembers seeing you somewhere else as well, but he couldn’t put his finger on where.

“ I . . . may know a few things about parkour. I can teach you if you want?”

You stared at Tim as he uttered those words. The dark eyebags, the half drunk coffee in his hand (that he somehow miraculously kept stable even after catching you) and thought to the fact that your identity had to be kept hidden.

“ As tempting as it is to have someone as cute as you to teach me, I think I’ll pass. The eyebags look sexy and all but you look like you really need sleep.”

As you watch his skin turn pink you realize one fatal mistake. Two fatal mistakes in fact.

You take a note to check for concussions cause you clearly somehow miraculously gained balls and have been flirting with this cute stranger the past few minutes without noticing it.

Where was this confidence when you met Gwen huh?

“I — uh — have to go!”

Tim notices only after you’ve completely gone out of sight that his coffee has spilled all over the snow.

He stares at all the brown ambrosia he’s lost and wordlessly walks back home.

And before he knew it he was screaming into his pillow like a young school-girl in love.

That’s when he realized where else he’s seen you before.

In the hundreds of drawings Damian has made of your visage.

Jason wasn’t omnipresent. As much as he’d like to be everywhere at once it was simply impossible.

Roy helped a lot with patrolling the city but there was only so much the two can do together, only so much space the two can cover.

So when he met a man claiming to be from another universe with powers that allowed him to basically be anywhere, whenever. Jason was hooked.

Peter B. Parker is apparently his roommate and friend in another universe and is currently trying to head back.

He was skeptical at first. But as soon as Peter started revealing a bunch of sensitive information only people he was close to knew he had to concede.

It was there when he met you.

You reminded him a lot of himself himself when he was younger. Eager to prove yourself to match up the spider-people you met.

As such, he may or may not have been watching over you practice. It started with him casually observing you really. He didn’t know when it escalated.

But, it was his duty to keep citizens safe after all so even after realizing how strange his actions were he still kept an eye on you no matter what.

Seeing you fall into no other than the arms of his replacement struck a chord in him that he couldn’t describe.

He should have been faster (honestly speaking he wasn’t expecting you to be that bad web slinging). He should have been the one that saved your spine from being broken.

But nope, Tim had to be there. Right at that moment. It was as if destiny was laughing at his inability to do anything better than his siblings.

The following days he decided to keep an even closer eye on you.

Unfortunately that meant he was within your spider sense range and you were totally aware of his presence.

After you realized it was just Red Hood being red hood you shrugged and paid no mind to it. You had more important matters to tend to.

Still, the cheeky part of you couldn’t resist and gave him a wave and grin.

Hopefully whatever him and Peter were coming up with works.

As you stare into the broken flashdrive you and the latter stole a while back you grimace.

There was no time. You were to improve now or never.

Jason looked at you. His heart racing uncontrollably at the smile you gave him.

He wondered what other kind of expressions you could make with that pretty face of yours. How’d you look when you were afraid and how relieved and happy you’d be when he comes in to save the day. How you’d smirk when the two of you take down another group of thugs. Backs against eachother. A sign of absolute trust.

You. You were going to be his partner in crime in the future.

And he’d be damned if anything happen to you.

He couldn’t help but be excited for when the other spider-people left the scene.

Damian was slowly but surely losing his mind.

It was winter break and he hasn’t seen you in the dorms at all. If it weren’t for his excessive obsession with replicating your face via art he’d probably forget how you’d look like. (He definitely wouldn’t but a point was being made, okay?)

He thought that you might have been kidnapped if it weren’t for Ganke informing him of your rare appearances.

At least the boy was good for something.

He takes one lengthy, very extensive, look at his brand new expensive phone.

And another lengthy, extremely extensive look at all the sketches he’s drawn of your face, your room, your everything.

It was time to bring in backup.

“Dick. I . . . need your help.”

Taglist: @vanessa-boo @w31rdg1rl @zlatolait-writes @ice-cream-writes-stuff

[my-own-walker]

hiii so sorry i request a lot i js love ur writing!! can u plz make an imagine of alex from adult world? one where we take a shower with him (fluff not smut)? thank uuuu

Wake Only To Bathe In Greens And Blues

note: plssssss i've been WAITING for an alex request. thank you!! Don’t apologize at all for requesting things!!

warnings: major TW for death and mourning (was feeling emo when I wrote this), mentions of nudity, showering together, fluff (no sm*t), if you want shower sm*t that's not what ur getting here

+++

I woke softly, most likely due to the sunlight streaming through the curtains, directly into my eyes. Always a sensitive sleeper, little changes could disturb me from my sleep. The smell of grass and chalk-covered sidewalks wofted through the open window. The air was warm and thick and wet. The morning brought with it a familiar sound. A memory. A reminder. 

The mourning doves cried out from their perches in the trees. Their woeful song of sorrow. I couldn't help but stop and overhear their calls. Their pain. 

I saw him in the mourning doves, sitting by my window, nesting in my gutters, close to me on a low-hanging branch. The doves were not afraid of me. They were him. He became the mourning doves. He was there. He was with me. He was gone, but his omnipresent soul lived on in the cries of the birds that wouldn't seem to leave me be. 

Honeyed summer days rotted with the churn of my stomach each morning when I heard that familiar sound. The sound of warmth and freedom, for most. Loss and grief for me. I resented the summer. It brought me only pain. 

I wanted to enjoy the alluring sun and the heavenly feel of winter taking its final bow, but he was there.  I wished he would let me run with my arms outstretched into the body of daybreak without the tethers of heartbreak. Let me relish in the sun without hearing his mourning dove cries. 

Omnipresent, unceasing memories.

I loved him, but how I wished he would please leave me be.

Alex's stirring shook me from my thought. He turned over onto his side, eyes fluttering open innocently. Like a child waking from a midday nap. His face was illuminated by the beam of sunlight sneaking through into the room. His expression contorted into one of concern as soon as he was awake enough to process anything.

'My god,' he croaked, 'Y/N, are you ok?' He shifted and brought his hand up to wipe my cheek. I didn't even realize I was crying. I chuckled softly through my tears and sniffed.

'Man, yeah,' I laughed. 'Just being stupid.'

'How long have you been up like this?' he asked, concern creeping into his tone.

'Only a few minutes, I'm sure,' I sighed, looking over at the clock. It had actually been an hour.

+

Summers with my dad were amazing. As a child, I reveled in the whimsy and wonder of trips to the woods with my father. He was an outdoorsman. An absolute enjoyer of all things natural.

As a little child, I would spend entire summers with him at a cabin in Lake Pleasant. He was a single dad. He was totally hopeless raising a little girl by himself. Nevertheless he persisted, and I grew up a regular tomboy. We’d fish in the lake, hike on nearby trails, and stargaze at night. He was a birdwatcher as well. Mourning Doves were his favorite to hear.

‘That means summer’s here, baby girl,’ he’d say, stars in his eyes. He died in the summer. His favorite time of year. Alone in the cabin.

A mourning dove sat perched on the roof of my car at the funeral home the day we said goodbye. I cried, knowing it was him saying hello.

I couldn’t be there when he went. The first summer I didn’t spend at that cabin. I was too busy. A college student with a summer job. I needed the cash. But money could never bring him back. Money could never fix the way summer was forever spoiled for me.

+

‘Baby? Y/N,’ Alex whispered in an urgent tone.

‘Ah, god. I’m so sorry, I-I was,’ I stammered. ‘My dad.’ That was all I could choke out before the tears returned.

‘You don’t need to say another word,’ he assured me, caressing my cheek. ‘You don’t have to explain.’ He handled my grief well. I couldn’t imagine possessing the patience and grace he had.

I reached up and touched my hair, paling when I realised the absolute state I was in. I pulled at a nearly matted knot and sighed. I was still wearing yesterdays makeup. Depression had a funny way of creeping up on me. I was suddenly all too aware of how much of a mess I was.

‘Do you maybe want a shower?’ Alex asked. ‘I can take one with you.’ Showers were hard for me. In my grief, I would stand in the shower for nearly hours just thinking about ‘what-ifs.’ Showering with Alex helped.

We shared a small apartment in town just a few minutes down the road from my college. Living with Alex quite possibly saved my life. I loved him so intensely. He was so tolerant and kind. The perfect little housewife (said jokingly, of course). He was better than me at matters of domesticity.

I stood and smoothed my hands over my shirt. Alex stood on his side of the bed stretching. In an instant, he was by my side.

‘You look gorgeous,’ he whispered softly in my ear.

‘Hardly,’ I scoffed.

‘Come on,’ he beckoned, stepping toward the bathroom. Alex turned the shower on and removed his boxers. I slipped my t-shirt, shorts, and underwear off and stepped under the stream of water, joining Alex in the delicious warmth.

I felt his hands snake around my waist as we stood under the water together. I grabbed my shampoo and handed it to him, asking without words for him to wash my hair. He massaged the floral smelling soap into my knotted hair gently. Having him take care of me like this was heaven on earth.

I turned to face him and burst into tears as I looked him in his eyes. He was everything to me. The way he made sure my needs were met made me feel so whole. Instead of speaking, he just wrapped me tightly in his arms. I rubbed the smooth skin of his back as he embraced me. His fingers moved mindlessly through my hair.

The water washed over us, cleansing me of the pain I felt. Nothing mattered in the world besides he and I.

‘Now can you wash my hair?’ Alex laughed, lightening the mood a bit.

I giggled and grabbed his shampoo. He always knew the way to make me feel better. His love was beautiful and all-encompassing. There were no bounds to his heart.

When we finished up, he ran ahead of me to grab me a towel. He wrapped me in it and gave me a kiss on the forehead, making a show out of the smooching sound.

+++

Doing my best to get around to all the request in my inbox right now! Sorry this one got kinda depresso. It’s kinda like a (cough) true-ish story to my life so it got personal. Don’t know why I took it that route haha.

[natsuneages]

LET'S TALK ABOUT CHERITZVERSE PART 2

"The 'magical' beings":

SPOILER ALERT!!!

Dandelion:

The Wizard: He is the more power being in all games. He is omnipresent and omniscient, he can do any wish come true trading your memories. Can travel in any dimension or time etc... But he can't come to our world in person. No one knows what he is even he doesn't know.

We also have all the pets with the power of shape-shifting and Jieun with his power to see the future.

NAMELESS:

All dolls are magical, all them have mystical powers like being alive even being dolls, they have a soul.

Yuri makes everyone fall for him

Yeonho has sensitive powers, can see spirits, can talk with animals, can see the future with cards and make the women feels very protective around him

Lance is very smart I guess :)

Tei can make people trust in him NO MATTER WHAT!!

Red can feel his owner feelings

Nameless is a living bear too. I guess he was alive. But how?

And to special mention SHINBI: She looks pretty sensitive like Yeonho.

(WHY WE CANT DATE HEEER?!)

MYSTIC MESSENGER:

Mysme looks like a very normal game until you realize ZEN CAN HAVE DREAMS THAT SHOWS THE FUTURE

BUUUT there are someone as powerful as wizard. THE MC!!! She can saw everything, read their minds, go back and go to the time, reset the game etc.

(Do your theories about her and send to my blog "@cheritzheadcanonz ")

AND SPECIAL MENTION TO THE TWINS!!!

Saeran wishes to be a Wizard in secret ending 2 and Seven and Him looks knows too much like they know nothing is real. Seven also said he was a Wizard. Who knows?

THE SSUM:

I tried playing, I'm sorry... I can't like it. So someone help me with that please.

We have Piu-Piu the AI. I don't think Piu-Piu is a simple AI.

There some people in those planets too. I don't know who they are, but their chibis are cute.

And some kind of being in Harry's route.

That's all I can remember!! So help me to share it and say if I did any mistake.

[sin-sidejob]

NSFW Robotus Headcanons Incoming: preying on his lack of sexual knowledge and experience. (Starts off sfw then becomes nsfw)

he’s a woman-made machine, lacking any experience of touch, warmth, or sensory other than the days spent outside as the president and through the aftermath of him being exposed to the internet. He’s known night time, physical fighting, and the cold of the lab post-de-torso-ification. So when you touch him for the first time, his sensors alight internally like the strands of mini-luminescent bulbs on Christmas tree strands.

He’s neutral on the outside, but internally gasping and flustering mindlessly about the fact it felt so good to touch you, that the brief brush of your hand on his chest or the small of his back, or a palm to his bicep or moving a strand of his hair back into place. This idiot is so smug and stubborn and mocks every single thing about human life and behavior and overall humanity, but one shred of casual kindness or intimacy sends him losing it. After a while you brush aside your feelings and either think that he’s not interested in you or just doesn’t know what you’re trying to do with the light physical flirting.

Meanwhile, this idiot who’s a wifi connection away from being god is just unable to fathom what to do. He can’t make a logical argument for why your actions would be more than just friendly. I personally think he just didn’t get to the point of the internet where there’s monsterfuckers who will gladly take his busted wire-exposed ass and fuck him past the point in which he reboots. So he, a mangled mess of parts and exposed wires, feeling sorry for himself, loses it and practically burns out a circuit while thinking over all the possibilities of you reciprocating any sort of affections.

Your hands on his body, smoothing over the tattered remnants of his suit, playing and twirling over strands of auburn hair between your digits, has his compressors alert and whirring as he fights the incessant flush that darts over sensitive artificial skin. Him feeling so high-strung and haywired that he’s able to feel the warmth off your hands when you cup his face in your palms? The way he leans into your touch and warmth, feeling so different from an external source compared to his omnipresent heat keeping him operating. Your thumbs smooth away smears of oil or dust that lingered on his cheek, feigning no other intention that good-hearted aid until you ghost your touch over the corner of his lip, feeling the puff of his bottom lip briefly before he just instantly pressed his lips to the pad of your thumb in a passing, barely-there kiss, that sends both of you alight. Eyes widen before lidding half-shut and then you lean in.

He moves faster than you’ve ever seen or felt, curling a mechanical hand around the nape of your neck, feeling the brush of your hair against his digits as he brings you close and kisses you. Finally kissing you, after all the thoughts and times he’s considered it, subconscious playing unfair and setting him into scenarios he thought would never come to fruition. But now, with you curled up in the space that would be his lap?? Better than any dream an artificial mainframe brain could produce. The way he can smell your natural musk and the perfumed scent of your shampoo and body wash that cling to your skin. All the while, hes got no clue how to properly kiss you.

You can’t help the smile as you break off, swiping your thumb against his jaw and just murmur about how he’s got some room for improvement and you’ll be glad to thoroughly guide him in improving his making out skills. But he wants more than that, he wants to bare you before him and make use of himself any way he can, devoting his sole purpose of destroying mankind to worshipping the pinnacle of it that was you. Devout believer at the shrine of your temple. He tells you so, honeyed words in his deep, rumbling tone flowing worth with the sweetness and thickness of dark molasses spilling over. Sticky sweet as his tongue parts your lips and his hand does the same to your legs around the remnants of his waist.

He’d have you, anyway you’d let him. Against the glass, against his chest, spread out with only his torso or head between your legs. He’d designate entire bytes of his mainframe to every single inch of your skin and form, memorizing it until he’d be able to picture you spread out in his mind in such intimate detail he’d have a near-perfect replica. But oh how projections never meet true, natural beauty. And definitely not the ripple of muscle and fat that rolls as his hand squeezes against the swell of your ass and thighs while he uses his silver-alloy tongue to make you cum and cry out his name. Victory cries come in all shapes and forms, but the way his name sounded on your kiss-bitten lips as he slowly found his way to your sexual gratification through hands-on research and testing, was the sweetest sounding victory he’d ever, ever hear.

[iamnotawomanimagod]

welp. time to just get this off my chest.

on tumblr it's "support Palestine or you are the scum of the Earth" but literally everywhere I go and everyone else I talk to is spouting the "there's two sides to this" "there are no good guys" rhetoric

so no, I'm not surprised that people who aren't chronically online in the deepest left spaces on the internet support Israel.

does it piss me off? of course it does. do I understand the omnipresent and pervasive nature of Western propaganda and the way very few people in Western culture are interested in confronting that? yeah, I do. is it fucked up that that's a reality in Western/American culture? yeah, it is. do I think screaming and mud-slinging at every person who even slightly suggests that there could be no good answers in this is even remotely productive, useful, or helpful? no. I'm not going to end the war by calling my chronically-ill, dying mother a genocide supporter.

I do not support the genocide and I am part of those that see the absolute need for an immediate ceasefire. I am the only one I know in my offline life that feels this way. My friends and family are all left-leaning.

it's difficult not to see the attitude here on tumblr as virtue signaling. it's also difficult to have any meaningful conversations with the people in my life about Palestine when this issue has been ongoing since before I was born. since before my mom was born. yes, people feel overwhelmed and scared and unsure of what the right thing to do is. that's a very human response to war. it's awful.

I don't think we should stop talking about Palestine. I do think tumblr has distilled this issue down to a single talking point that does not allow for any meaningful conversation to take place with the people who could actually have their minds changed, because if you step even the tiniest bit into the "two sides to every 'conflict'" discourse, you are labeled a supporter of genocide.

even posting this is going to get me some major side-eye, I know that. and yes, I am speaking from a place of enormous privilege, safety, and distance. I know.

I just think of all the other horrific shit going on in our world, every single day, and of how little impact me and my family and friends can actually have on any of it, and then I come on tumblr and every other post is about abhorrent actions taken against people who I cannot help. an absolute deluge of human suffering, graphic violence, and traumatizing images and stories that I can do absolutely nothing about.

geopolitics is not something I've ever had any hope of having significant impact on. it's so so so far above my head. it's so far out of my control. and I'm too sensitive of a little bitch to just keep swallowing the bad news and knowing I can never really fix it or even help in a meaningful way.

I don't want to visit a blog about bears and see images of children crushed under rubble. I don't want my favorite fandom blog to post video of victims waving white flags and being shot down.

who is this actually helping? whose mind is this actually changing, when you're on the "there is ONE side to this and if you think anything even a little bit otherwise, you are Evil" website?

I get two options when I vote. less genocide or more genocide. voting is the only thing I can do to influence my country's politics, and I was going to do it already anyway. my president is 100% culpable in this and he's STILL the better option.

and how people posting on tumblr lowkey do seem to think that they're going to stop the war that way. you aren't. this is a fucking echo chamber, and I know that's true because the moment I step outside of it, the discourse changes completely. you cannot and will not save the world by blogging. people who aren't blogging about it are not contributing to the genocide.

I guess if this is upsetting to you and you think I'm a bad person because I feel this way, you can unfollow me. if you're a mutual, at least soft-block me on the way out.

[strawbbfluff]

Hii I live for ler diluc >\\< so can I request some Lee lumine/reader and ler diluc plss tysmm

A/N: sorry it took so long for me to get to this ^^'' i haven’t been in a writing mood in awhile but i am now so here you go!

just wanted to point out i’m also making a primary universe for my genshin impact fics! so this along with my previous itto and childe fics will be a part of it as well 💕 hope y’all enjoy

—

playing with fire

when lumine is looking for some entertainment, she goes to the dawn winery to check up with an old friend. little does she know getting on his nerves won’t end well~

—

there was nothing like the cool, crisp mondstadt air. as the first region the traveler visited in teyvat, it always brought back fond memories for the blonde.

now as the faint scent of wine filled the air, lumine wanted to visit a certain red-headed friend. though he was always in a less-than-fabulous mood, his bluntness was always a welcome reprieve from the usual antics lumine had to put up with.

lumine thanked adelinde as she was let into the winery, gazing in awe at the warm decorations of diluc’s home. though she had been here many times, the scenery never failed to amaze her.

she walked further to see diluc at the table, his crimson ponytail slightly disheveled as he looked over some paperwork. his stress was very obvious to the traveler.

“hey, diluc,” lumine greeted softly, walking over to the table he was working at. “whatcha up to?”

diluc seemed to snap out of a daze. “oh, lumine. it’s good to see you. you haven’t visited in awhile.”

lumine laughed dryly. “yeah, well, i’ve been busy trying to save this world recently, y’know?”

“ah, the omnipresent traveler outdoes me yet again,” diluc teased, smiling a little as he put down his pen. the blonde was always a welcome surprise in his isolated life.

“heh, can’t help it if i’m just that good~” lumine bit back, sitting down on the edge of his table. she was thoroughly amused by the expression on the pyro-wielder’s face.

diluc raised an eyebrow, glancing up at the traveler with slight annoyance etched onto his lips. lumine just smiled back, dangling her legs as she raised her eyebrows right back.

diluc scoffed.

“get down from there, please. this table was quite expensive,” diluc quipped, looking back down at his paperwork and starting to scribble down notes again. there it was; the stoic attitude.

“i dunno, i’m pretty comfy up here,” lumine mused, stretching her arms for mock emphasis. “i think i might just stay.”

diluc just shook his head, sighing as he continued working. the man really looked like he needed a break.

that’s when lumine made the decision that she shouldn’t have.

smirking slightly, the blonde traveler placed her legs right in diluc’s lap, playfully yawning. diluc twitched, letting out one more sigh before he gripped lumine’s ankles tightly.

“big mistake.”

and as quickly as lumine’s gorgeous boots were on her feet, they were off.

the traveler gasped, not expecting this kind of reaction from such a serious man. however, she was quickly thrown into hysterics as his fingers started to dance over her soles.

“whahahahaha- dihihihihihiluc!!”

“i did warn you, traveler,” diluc drawled, his slender fingers moving to curl under her toes. a hint of a smirk graced his lips at the squeak she produced in response. “it’s not my fault you simply don’t listen.”

lumine was in trouble now. why were all of her friends resorting to tickling whenever she slipped up?! she giggled helplessly, not being able to pull her legs away while also not wanting to fall off of the table. who knew master diluc was such a tickle torturer?

“i’m sohohohohohorry! i’ll gehehehehehehet off!!” lumine pleaded, not being able to take much more torment on such a sensitive spot.

“no, no, you clearly wanted to be up there. so, you should just stay,” diluc grinned now, his fingers spidering up to the sensitive backs of lumine’s knees. she positively squealed, her legs starting to kick out in reflex.

“NAHAHA! m-mahahahahahaster diluc, plehehehehehehease!!” lumine laughed, her legs coming dangerously close to diluc’s face.

“tsk, no kicking now. you obviously wanted this if you were provoking me so much,” the redhead chuckled, his grip on her legs tightening. he didn’t notice the traveler starting to laugh herself right off the table.

“I DIHIHIHIHIDN’T- ah!” lumine cut off, her giggles coming to an end as she slipped off the table.

diluc stopped immediately, rushing to catch her in his arms.

“had too much fun, eh?” diluc joked, squeezing lumine’s shoulders before setting her upright back on the floor. she blushed a little, avoiding eye contact.

“maybe a little. sorry for sitting on your expensive table,” she apologized sheepishly, her arm behind her head as she scratched it nervously. diluc rolled his eyes fondly and poked her exposed underarm.

“don’t worry about it. i needed a break anyway, and your laugh is quite adorable. i hope to do that again sometime,” diluc replied, before starting to walk towards the back of the winery. “i’m going to go have some grape juice; care to join me?”

“sure! i’d love that,” lumine beamed, secretly excited for the next time she’d get a chance to have fun with diluc like that again.

[rafent]

♚ — Does your muse believe in objective right and wrong? Why do they hold this view?

♚ ; does your muse believe in objective right and wrong? why do they hold this view?

With the 'objective' qualifier of this question referring to an universally understood standard of right and wrong, I think Rafal believes in it - to some extent. While he can measure actions as definitely bad and definitely good, some conventional evils to him are more neutral based on his beliefs, which I imagine swings him more toward ethical relativism. In that regard, Rafal holds stock in the traditional moral compass (good versus evil) and also in Gradlon's apposite morality (might equals right). Both are omnipresent within him.

In Gradlon objective right and wrong is more or less equatable to objective weak and strong. Being powerful also means you hold the power to be 'correct' no matter how morally reprehensible your actions. A remarkable Fell Child can kill their own siblings and be praised because talent and cruelty, both useful qualities to Sombron, are higher virtues than goodness. Culling of others is permissible. The strong and talented children are immunized to judgement.

More than the act of murder, a more unforgivable transgression is the existence of a failure; a weak Fell Child. It's why Rafal's humiliation and sense of inadequacy are such inconsolable points of motivation for him even after Sombron's ambitions and kingdom fall defunct - shining a light toward where another infallible metric of un-circumstantial objectivity lies in his eyes. Strength and weakness.

Rafal: "Alas, weak governance breeds banditry, and weak citizens are prone to death by bandits." (At map: Mountain Settlement )

Knowing that, his opinion here is illuminating. While he doesn't vindicate the banditry or justify their bloodshed, he isn't at all concerned with defining which party is in the right or wrong in terms of malefactors and victims. Only with pointing out what he perceives to be the root cause, i.e., weakness. If you're weak, terrible things happen. If you're weak, the fault lies with you. A cause-and-effect dialectic that likely extends to similar transgressions in his mind.

Banditry, plunder, and murder are wrong, but the base infirmity that allows for that evil is also wrong. Someone may be to blame for your misery, but so are you for being unable to prevent that. An apathetic but not unexplainable refraction of his upbringing and what Rafal himself retains from it.

When looking upon ordinary sources of violence, he'll apportion judgment by the fell derivatives of right and wrong. He won't lose sleep or crucify himself over killing his own siblings for that same reason. Becoming Sombron's successor is the primal instinct of Fell Dragons, it qualifies as 'ordinary', and when you play Gradlon games you win Gradlon prizes. Outside that ecosystem, however, Rafal is much more traditionally conscionable. He WILL fall back on good-and-evil value judgements over the role he played in harming his loved ones and destroying all of Elyos.

Rafal, vs. Sombron: "The Sombron of my world bade me commit terrible sins to become his successor. I brought that world to ruin. But perhaps I can redeem myself by kindling hope in this one."

Rafal: "I committed unconscionable acts in a place like this. To you, the Four Winds…even my sister." (At map: Desert Stronghold)

Rafal to Alfred: "My thirst for power grew so strong that I was willing to hurt anyone to gain more."

He shows sensitivity over the actions he committed as the Fell Heir and labels them as sins. Attaining a dragonstone and graduating from a failure; Rafal's performance in pursuit of these things skews toward the bad end of morality and while he doesn't evince regret over the result, he does in how he got there. Undisputed is the acknowledgement that Rafal possesses some crystal-clear comprehension of evil and wrongness.

Notably, it's not law-of-the-jungle mentality that holds steady here, but the objective right and wrong. Because whereas weak citizens falling prey to pirates and brigands is natural - natural in the same way that a Fell Child thinning out his rivals is natural - deceiving your friends, stomping on your sister's heart, and turning former allies into Corrupted isn't. More than instinctual, more than might makes right, it's a contrived and variable evil. And that's the sort of evil that Rafal clearly understands.

Young Nil (Rafal): Now I can finally be of use! Now I will no longer be a failure! I must show Nel right away.

Sombron: That would be ill-advised. Continue to play the role of a weakling. Hide your true strength. Outwit the others. And kill them.

Young Nil (Rafal): But...

Young Rafal goes a step further and implies through his exchange with Sombron that a conscience was always latent within him. Showing hesitation to deceive Nel and even from that early age proving anomalous from his siblings - caring for Nil and then Nel, wanting to coexist with them instead of honoring the hegemonic ambitions of their species. This Rafal is much more innocent, uncertain of himself when ordered to commit questionable deeds. Gradlon-spirited brutality as reflective of most behavioral cases appears to be an example of nature versus nurture.

Cumulatively, it all goes to show that Rafal does believe and practice objective right and wrong, both to a conscious (adult) and subconscious (child) extent, though that objectivity isn't constant. It can be warped by another cultural value system.

[mary-johnlocked]

Unspoken needs

18+

pairing : Phil burbank X Branco Henry

trope: Explicit Smut , Cowboy on Cowboy Sex , Porn with Feelings , Alternative ending , Charachterization , Age Gap , Older man/younger man , Flashbacks , Handjobs , Blowjobs , praise kink , Daddy kink , Phil is a soft!dom ;)

summary : Phil was waiting for Peter to meet him at the ranch , and he got lost in his memories of Branco while gazing at the mountains , at the barking dog .

N.B : In this chapter i had imagined what Branco Henry was like and some scenarios with Phil and their developping relationship , and the way he influenced Phil and impacted his charachter , its based solely on my personal impression that i had on him from the movie not from the book , so its not canon

Chapter ( 2/ ? ) : Memories tethered and buried

*OUTSIDE*

Silence has settled in and the few scattering sunrays of the twilight gradually declined to fade into darkness as darkness took place in the farm , the only light being the soft glow of the moonlight and the twinkling stars , the wind rustles the leaves on the ground stirring up the dirt and the sands to hurl around and twirl across the land , whirling its way with a couple of prickly tumbleweeds , their restless rumbling breaking slightly through the deafening desertic silence of the night in Montana , along with the cacophony of cricket's chirps which only emphasized the heavy silence , only broke by the occasional  grunting of the cows confined within the rusty fence of the corral , the peaceful calming atmosphere sits as stark opposite  to the wild boistorous landscapes of the high rocky mountains stretched in the horizon occupiying all the perepheral vision and making a breathtaking frame to see through the wooden gates from inside the ranch 

which is perfectly positioned in a dominating middle ground that provides a nice framed view on the mountains from the front gates and an observing point on the farming and horse work from the back doors 

"no wonder why Phil spends most of his time here ", Peter thought to himself while heading to the ranch to meet Phil and stopped at the front door steps taking in the nature and his surroundings while heading to the place of their appointement , or more exactly their date

the boy being a sensitive artist in the heart with a pragmatic mind couldnt help but psychanalyze Phil and note the tortured oppressd beauty of his being and his ,,,, tragedy 

Phil would stand up straight with his shoulders back within the wooden confine , having a dominant look on every farmer or horseman , making his authoritarian presance  floating on everyone's shoulders and omnipresent , like a tyrannical phantom while all the same he could get lost to no one's knowledge in the beauty of the wild ,

observe through the frame that forms the large gates of the ranch , the rocky high mountains with sweeping meadows spread upon it and forested slopes stretching to the foothills ,

while his mind drifts to the memory of him and Brenco hiking up those mountains , and , the memory of his first love , and first time , discovering his true feelings and nature with Brenco

which was exactly what he was doing after he bathed himself ,which his brother found bizzar since he never does it at home but the situation obliged , and went there waiting for Peter to come ,

his mind flickered with the memories of Brenco while gazing at the mountains , in the sun set ,and his loyal barking dog,,,,, still a couple of hours left before Peter would come , he lost himself in memories that marked him,,,,, 

-------------------------------------

After months of training him to mount a stubborn mare and tame it Branco was teaching him to move a herd of cattles and eventually cutting the little calfs from their fathers so they wont breed them, he was watching him on his velvety black magestic Mustang from afar , while Phil was struggling to seperate the little calf from the herd

_" COME ON PHIL! "  he yelled at him , getting impatient

_" DONT LET THE CALF JOIN THE HERD SORT HIM OFF INTO THAT SMALLER PEN "

Phil was trying his best to direct the calf but it keeps running in every direction and around the parents stubbornly ,

Branco sighed in defeat eventually gave up

_"OKAY NOW JUST HURDLE THEM TOGETHER AND STEER THEM INTO THAT FENCE LETS GET THIS OVER WITH" 

Phil panting hard , mouth dried , head dizzy from the hot burning sun , ass hurt from the hard saddle and all the hopping  , he gave up and rode back to Brenco 

-" sorry Brenco it doesnt seem to work they dont wanna go where i lead them ! "

Brenco rode his horse closer to his and faced him , glaring at him with wide chocolate eyes darkened with anger and irritation at his incompetence , with a firm tone he retorted :

" a real cowboy would go there cut that calf off , steer him away the cattles and into that smaller pen without deviating , and go round up the rest of the herd and push'em into the enclosure within half an hour or less, ITS BEEN FOUR HOURS Phil ! , what have i taught you the whole past months ? , "

Phil humiliated was about to retort but he continued " trust your goddamn horse and stop misleading it !  it knows how to cut calves way better than you , it was raised with the instinct for cutting cattles and steering them which normally should've made it easier for a beginner like you , even with a hunter of a horse you couldnt make it ,,,,, you dissapointed me Phil "   

Phil's dry mouth went agape a hurt expression written on his face ,his eyes dropped down to the dusty ground feeling ashamed and beating himself up internally , he wanted to make him proud not fail him , he felt a clenching feeling at his throat

he would do anything , follow every order , every instruction , listen to all the advices ,to become a real cowboy ,tough and charismatic masculine man like he is ,

but its hard to make it work when he gets lost in his dark bottomless and dangerous eyes while he is explaining , or get transfixed by his inviting wide plump mouth , framed by his beard

or when his dick goes stiff and engorged with blood and lust everytime he catches a glimpse of his rounded and muscled ass in those bloody tight denim jeans , hypnotizing him by moving attractively from side the side waving his hips on the horse with such a grace ,  and controlling the harness effortlessly as if he shared one mind with his mustang

he cant help but feel enchanted by his wild beauty , his thick black hair , and thick lashes and straight eyebrows , his protruding brow that gives him a threatening look , adding to that his towering impressive form ,

big rugged capable hands that he wished to see somewhere else than on a bridle , or at least being the one attached to the other end of the strap

many times he wished it was on his lap he was hopping that way  , or that it was him he was controlling with that harness , or using his personal towel with his intitials BH inscribed in the fabric as a strap to wrap around his neck while he pounds into him - he slapped himself at the thought-

indeed it was hard to focus under those conditions 

Brenco still staring at him ,grew irritated by the silence and his hand snapped to Phil's he grabbed it harshly and brought it to his face , pulling him from his daydreams

-" look your knuckles are WHITE from holding onto the harness , you're more struggling to control your horse than focusing on the direction of the herd to counter it , i told you , don't be a control freak, you gotta build a relation of trust between you and your horse , not domination , you gotta know its a stubborn beast with the love of freedom runing through its veins ,and you just turned it to a chicken ,you transmited your fear , come on put yourself together and MAN THE HELL UP  "  he roared the last sentence

Phil blinking in shock and gathering his courage ,he swallowed a couple of times before answering with fake confidence but his voice betrayed him as it came out enervated

_" look i promise you i will succed the next time , it was only my second time , i just need to practise mo-"

Brenco cut him off , scoffing at his attempt to justify himself instead of taking criticism

" what are you making up excuses now ? i dont need your promises , your words don't matter ,there are times in life when the fancy words and pretty actions don’t count for much, when it’s blood and dust and death and a cold wind blowing and a gun in the hand and you know suddenly you’re just an animal with guts and blood that wants to live, love and mate, and die in your own good time , you feel me ? , i need your actions and proofs ,so quit whining and prove me that i havent waisted my time taking you under my wing " 

Phil was fueled by pure desire to see pride in Brenco's eyes , and to gain his approval , he kept playing his words in the back of his mind 

" man the hell up "  ;so with a newfound resolution he nodded to himself and muttered -" i will show you Brenco " determined to better himself

nonetheless he couldnt help the nagging feeling of guilt everytime he thought about him the way he did ,it was scandalous , so deliciously inappropriate , what would he think of him ? , having those " feelings" 

 he cringed at himself from the mere thought , Brenco would've probably had beat him up to a pulp before hanging him up and then trailing his body with the iron tag " faggot " on his forehad behind his horse around the whole ranch 

he shook off the thoughts feeling now a threat added to his guilt 

he kept training days long on the horse , for weeks , until the day he finally sorted the cattles off like a champ , Brenco noticed he was more confident on the horse , pulling at the harness with ease , following the instincts of the horse , becoming one with it , he smiled at him from afar, and Phil raised his head caught his glance and smiled back ,

they looked into each other's eyes little bit longer than they should had , their smiles faded as an intense expression took over , turning to something darker and more ,,,, intimate , his heart was swelling in his chest ,

he went to sleep that day with his hard features painted on the black of his eyes , head full of fantasies that involves making those dangerous alluring eyes roll at the back of his head from the sinful action he would practise between his spread legs , with his mouth open.

Its not that Branco was bullying him or that he had no patience , he was the calmest guy ,his blood a frozen calm river , he was a man of logic , led by his rational mind rather than his emotions , he had his emotions under control , but , with him he was different , it felt downright personal the way he shouted at him and picked on his smallest fails ,

the reason he was pushing him beyond his limits and being too meticulous and too hard on him like that was because he believed he really could do it , that he had it in him and just need a push to call forward what he wanted to become and he wanted to see him succed badly , 

he needed to see the fruit of his work , signs that he was right about him that his intuition was right , the thing he probably feared more than any grizzly was Phil failing him or worse , giving up , he knew he craved his approval and wants to use it to fuel his passion , 

he never wanted to see the flames of passion in his eyes waver ,he wanted to be his inspiration , he cared too much about his development, he was eager to fulfill his wish of becoming better ,  and more than that he wanted to be the one he thanks for it , 

Branco Henry was a real masculine model for everyone in the ranch , self sufficient and reliable , free like the wind , untamable as a young feral mare , his wide chocolate eyes shone with unmistakable ardor , avid for adventure and the quest of mastery , never shied away from confrontation ,and had a high sense of justice and morality ,

he had boradcasted his knowledge to the western frontiere, devoted to the marrow of his bone to his life style that he considered it fairly as a life mission ,

he walked alone with a confidence of a roman emperor he knew well what his work represented , not only to him but to something far beyond , a vehicule of transcending western values , that he believed in whole heartedly and should not only preserve and personify but also pass it on , 

he was a visionary and he knew nobody else as worthy of his guidance as his loyal and faithful best friend Phil , he saw through him , he knew Phil is secretly ambitious and competitive , and held the intimate conviction that he is capable of and  want to do more and better than anybody else in this field ,and want to become just like him ,

they shared same values, and same ardor for their work , and this desire to be admired , looked up to , and to lead , when he met him he was shy and hesitant about revealing himself at first , but Brenco knew how to spring it out of him and call forward all his potential

nevertheless what Phil truly and deeply wants far more than becoming a high valued and respected man and the recognition , is the acceptance , of who he truely is as a person regardless of being a man and whats communly associated with it, regardless of the efforts and sacrifices he puts into being the model he represents to his peers ,

he craves consideration ,understanding and love ,someone who can actually see him , unveiled and as a whole , crack the code and delve into the depth of his most hidden places , his darkest corners , and drawn in the waters of his most sinful desires , explore his secret garden not for finding jewels but to marvel in its beauty as a whole , encounter with his devils and dance with them ,

he wants nothing more than to be accepted as he is and loved for what he is, and for that he undertook a hellish detour and perilous adventure to prove his worth to Henry and be dignified , that costed him his soul , his authenticity slowly retreated to make place for the persona he was forging , his true feelings being disguised behind a stoic demeanor, that became a shield to his fragility and sensitivity ,

the more he learns about what he should be and what that represents and how its judged amidst his peers , the more he burns the parts of him that didnt fit into that image , until he became , a sheer shadow of himself , or rather ,the shadow of Brenco Henry 

like when he had to pretend not to care about camaraderie when all he wanted is to mingle and share his new experiences with Branco in the wild with all his teenage enthusiasm, because he had been taught to keep it to himself to be ahead of them ,and entertain the mystery around himself in that way he would be respected

or to pretend it was okay not to have close friends ,only acquaintances when in reality he longed for intimacy and connection

or to ignore his growing feelings for his best and only friend Branco , and the irresistible attraction he feels when he is around him

it is not to say that Henry intentionally provoked such transformations , not by any stretch of the imagination he could've guessed the influence he possessed upon him , in his life and through his death ,

he sure had to some extent knew he considered him more than a best friend by the way his eyes glitters when he gave him an important mission to do , what it meant to him that he had such a trust in his abilities , and the way he happily and hastily do him small favors around the ranch

like just the simple task of showering and brushing his horse to prepare his mount for him when he was busy hunting or forging new hooves , filled him with such joy that if he were a dog his tail would violently wag while hopping to execute his orders ,

he loved to be of any use to him , loved to be used by him in any imaginable ways , and loved even more being praised for it and appreciated 

However the more Branco spent time with him ,teaching him ranch works or to mount or the various values that a proper cowboy should uphold to , the more he grew found of him himself ,

little did he know , that Phil was not only useful to him and a good apprentice cowboy ,but essential to him , he gave meaning to his life , being his mentor gave him a sense of accomplishement and filled him with happiness and thrill everytime he notices improvement , even in the smallest details ,

he was an observing man and taught him how to use his eyes like no one else too , so his heart brimms with pride when he notices when they were hunting the paths that a rabbit leave behind , or the clues from mere feces , or sense a coming thunder 

as Branco was himself growing attached to him ,he couldnt conceive anymore go on a hike up the hills without having Phil by his side , drinking on his words of advice or his stories about his past achievements in the foreign frontiere or in the mountains ,

like that time he told him he took on a buffalo by himself using arrows ,or that one perticular time that left a strong impression in Phil's mind , and gave him an insight on his personality,  not only his great cowboy skills but also his good heart and tender soul  ,

he felt a growing intimacy and affection when he related it to him , eventhough Branco didnt say it but he knew he was the only one he told that story to

 it was that one time during an expedition , he was attacked by a furious mother grizzly when he ventured too close to her cavern well hidden behind vegetations at the foothill , where her cubs were peacefully sleeping ,

lured by some kind of plant with healing property that was growing near the entry to use to make medecine for an ill friend's sister ,he had looked for it everywhere , and when he approached ,still on his horse, the grizzly started growling fiercely behind the bushes that shielded almost completly the entry ,and suddenly charged him and jumped to lacerate his horse's neck , clawed onto it with her long deadly talons while maulding it with her sharp white fangs blinded by fury,

he fell down the horse ,he hurt his back but managed to stretch his arm wincing in pain and reached to the hunting knife sheathed in his side knife belt at his ankle, and feigned surrender to the beast , with a composure few man would manifest in front of a savage death , but he did ,

he froze and wait the beast to pounce on him and point the sharp knife's edge up and have it plunged in her gaping jaw ,

blood streamed down his hands and arms and all over his chest ,the fierce grizzly crushed him with her weight as it collapsed, he wriggled with all his force from underneath it , he crawled to his horse to check on it , his head dropped with defeat and sadness , caressed the horse neck and shook himself to remind himself of his mission and hurried to cut off the plants ,   

thats when he told him he heard the little cubs crying for their mother he parted the bushes and peered through it on the cave inside , Phil swore he saw a glimpse of guilt in his eyes , now laying on the ground and sag face ,

he was even more startled when he knew what he did afterwards , that for the next three months he committed to the little cubs and would wake early  to milk the cow before anyone would wake up and bring them the milk and hand feed them himself ,

Phil was looking at him fondly paying little attention to where his horse was leading him , he felt priviliged to let him sneak a peek onto his vulnerable side ,and moreover he felt a deep admiration for a man who would risk his life for someone else sister and who would fight with such courage and dignity, and be gentle and kind enough to go back and take care of the little creatures , thinking at how he valued every living being lives and his respect to life in general made his heart melt and soften to him , and how sweet and committed he really is inside ,

that ignited a blazing passion for him in his heart the words cannot describe ,it was at that moment he swore he would dedicate his life to be like him , and be his loyal partner until death do them apart , and thats exactly what he did , he was by his side until the very end

as time went by , days passed , season after season , Phil was doing remarkable progress , he was focused and disciplined, smart and devoted , and Branco started to see in him the perfect partner for futur rides and perhaps allow him to join on a more dangerous missions far away in the frontiere , but not just yet , he would never think of risking his life ,

its true that he was pushing him but he always took precautions and had his back while doing so ,and would go according to his plans , step by step , the use of weapons for hunting and combat would be with the last lessons of his programm ,

he first needed to master all the basic ranching work to be self sufficient and help his community inside , and grow in strength and hability before thinking of exploring the unknown , and to do so , he had to learn and master rawhide braiding which he got the hang of it pretty quickly ,and another overlooked yet very important skill which is blacksmithing  ,

they only had two blacksmiths , one was not very competent the weapons he forged are not so sharp and easily breakable , and the professional one was getting old  , they needed two new blacksmiths he thought , himself and Phil , would be perfect pair of replacement

One hot and sunny august afternoon , Phil missed lunch again , it was the third time this week , he grabbed a takeout some cold chicken in bread , but he was missed around the table , he was missed by Branco ,after a couple of beers and jokes he excused himself off ,and went out of the saloon,

following the sound of clattering metal ,to his delightful surprise , he saw him on the other side of the big ranch , near to the backdoors where he placed his iron tools at the entering ,and opened the back ranch gates

he was facing the mountains , and guessed it would be better to be outside in the fresh air , rather than suffocating from the heat inside , with a nice a view in front ,

Phil was shirtless , his wide muscled back at display flexing with each hit , glistening with sweat , little droplets of sweat running a trail between his well defined pecs ,  his sun kissed skin shining under the sun like velvet , humidty made his hair curl near his neck and soft small curls fall on his glowing forehead ,

his piercing blue eyes glued to the heated metal placed carefully on the anvil holding it with tongs with one and and with the other hammering it , Branco was captivated his athletic physique and nearly drooled ,

he watched him carefully , cringed at first from his lack of precision and the loose way he held his hammer and the wrong technique , but then was immensely pleased to think he works behind his back to improve faster and impress him , with decided steps he strode across the ranch and walked up to the backdoors ,

Phil hadnt notice him yet , until he stood in front of him facing him with a small smile that reaches his eyes , boyish amusement painted his face , he was content and his eyes though were challenging  ,

He was taken by surprise and shivered as though he saw a ghost , he stopped his movement and he opened his mouth to explain himself looking at him then the long piece of iron that should resemble to a long hunting knife , it was as if he was caught cheating

though he was cut off by Branco before he could utter a word

_ "did i tell you to stop ? , no , so keep on practising , show me how you forge a knife little cowboy " he taunted

Phil pressed his lips together and tightened his grip on the hammer , a little annoyed for he knew he calls him that whenever there's something one level harder than his actual capabalities and playfully challenges him , irritation seemed like a good drive until now

he was quite determined but too hasty , and it took a lot of precision to do this kind of work , he lifted his arm up in the air , Branco watched intently how his nice defined biceps flex and his veins popped on his glistening thick forearms , as it came down onto the piece of metal hitting it nice and hard , but hitting it the wrong way

at his second demo , Branco came closer to his side and wrapped his large hand around his wrist in the air before he hammers again , and lowered it slowly , Phil tensed and his blue eyes piercing through his dark ones , a bit startled by the sudden unusual physical proximity

" too high stance " he said standing closely , his hand trailed along his curvy arm to his shoulder and grasped onto it- " and too tight"

he went to stand behind him and put each hand on his sturdy shoulder ,massaging them lightly , he was close , closer than ever before , Phil's breath hitched at the gesture , and his muscles strained even more ,

he felt Branco's breathy laugh caress the back of his neck , and the tingling sensation traveled down to his pants ,as though he noticed his surprise and arousal from the shade of pink coloring the base of his neck ,

his shoulders begun to go lax gradually with each comforting press , his hands went down feeling at his arms curves , and up to his shoulders again , kneading at his muscle knots there , and drawing circles with his rough thumbs on the side of his neck ,

by that time Phil was melting into puddle , and hotter than the piece of metal he had heating in front of him in the forge , his head dropping low between his shoulders he held back a deep groan of satisfaction

"good , just like that , dont be too uptight " , he said in a low honeyed voice , one hand went down and placed it onto the curve of his trimmed waist , squeezing ever so lightly , Phil quivered , fighting the urge to close his eyes, while pressing himself closer from behind until he felt  his back against his chest

" and dont swing your hips it actually destabilize your aim " -he thought that he was the one destabilizing his mind right now , and something else beneath his buckle going rather straight and iron-y

while his mouth was hotly whispering instructions close to his ear , his chest was heaving and mouth dried , it got harder to focus on the meaning of the word , being lulled by the vibration of his low husky voice and the touches that ignited sparkles to his unexperienced and innocent nerves endings , 

 he placed his other hand right on the middle of his back , and his spine would lit up with light if it could -

" mind your posture , upright , good , dont draw force from your lower body , rather launch your hits from your shoulder and back muscle , alright ?"

Phil nodded , he feared that if he spoke his voice would betray his extreme arousal from their sudden closeness

he let go of him and took steps back to watch him try again , and instantly Phil missed his warm rough and reassuring hands , he let out a shaky breath he was holding all along Branco's hand were on him  ,

he shook his head as a mean to shake off the physical ,provoking thought thet started to invade his mind ,steady his shaky hand and picked the iron with the tongs and heated the metal til it was bright orange nd placed it on the anvel and prepared his posture to hammer ,

while Branco was scrutinizing his move , and watching his puffed up pecs glistening with sweat and flexing preparing to hit , Phil casted one last look to Branco , caught him checking him out , his ego swelled when he saw the clear look of hunger and lust on his face , and  made a cheeky smile , proud to have succeded in charming the great untamable cowboy , and with the swing of confidence , he throw his hit , and he hit it right

before he knew it and without saying a word Branco turned on his hills and head back from where he came

----------------------------------------------

[astromechs]

no, but i want to talk about how important christopher smith is (to me, but also in general why i think it's so great that a character like this exists)

see, the thing is that chris is a guy so many would dismiss; he makes a big show of trying to emulate a certain ideal of masculinity (which definitely has its toxic elements), he believes outlandish conspiracy stuff he finds on the internet, and has been brought up in an environment where racism and sexism and homophobia, just as the tip of the iceberg, are omnipresent and normalized. his dad is a white supremacist; easy to assume chris is one, too. that along with that emulation of masculinity that's often douchey, it's easy to assume that he's a lost cause to bigoted ideology and will never change.

but he's a product of his circumstances, and he's also a victim of them, too; he's spent his whole life being abused and traumatized by the unrepentantly terrible man that is his father, and has basically literally beaten himself up to fit into a certain kind of mold in the desperate hope that he could win some fucking shred of his father's approval (and love). that mold is not who he is on the inside, not really. on the inside, he has a kind, sensitive heart; he loves music, he loves his pet eagle, and when people around him start to show love and support, he shows that he loves them deeply, too. he wants to do good in the world — even if that sense has long been pretty misguided.

he shows that he can open himself up more, be more in touch with his feelings and be more aware of how his actions and behavior effect others. he can change. he's not a lost cause. (importantly contrasted with his father who is a lost cause, who is, again, just a vile and truly terrible person.)

and i think that's so important. i think a lot of us are guilty of making assumptions about people and dismissing them outright, but if you extend a hand of compassion — you might find that you bring hope to a person who had no idea how to find it. that's what chris smith, a peacemaker in a way he never actually intended, represents.

[rnalgene1949]

Birthday Suit Part III

Rediscovered from juniusf old profile. Not my work 

For many more hours of his 19th birthday the boy lay on his single bed in the dorm room with his rubber clad body frozen stiff. A room that he had spent so many nights showing off his body, he knew all the angles and what time the natural light off the window would work best. To be fair, his current state of laying down flat as a board, his legs off the side of the bed with knees refusing to bend would not qualify as a good pose if he had chosen it. He might have liked the picture anyway, considering the look of a futuristic rubber suit, darkened glass frames, and knowing the subject was being as tortured as he was now. «It feels so good to obey. It feels so good to please.» The voice was always speaking to him, even as he consciousness faded in and out through the long hours of reprogramming. If there was repetition of words he couldn’t be sure, but the theme was always the same: His acceptance and unconditional surrender. «This is what you want. This is what you need.» Occasionally, when his mind would attempt to reassert its control over his own body, the boy would struggle against the omnipresent sound of Sir. Frustration grew each time his mind woke up. Frustration at his inability to move, at his inability to escape the soothing relaxing sound of Sir’s voice, at his inability to even feel the horror of knowing that the amount of time he oversaw his own thoughts was getting less and less, being able to feel how his resolve was being chipped away and disposed of. «You will relax and feel your body slip away in 3, 2, 1…» The vibration crashed down against his prostate again, banishing any previous frustrations as pathetic compared to the overwhelming pressure flooding his sensitive button. Nothing in his life so singularly focused his being like the invader inside his slave hole, even as the surprise faded into a desperate and denied need to cum. «You are only a toy, and you are eager for the attention of your Owner» “I need to cum, I need to cum, I need to cum,” became a mantra as it felt like only a single soft stroke would finally set the boy off. He was past the point of begging for release, past the point of wondering about the future, past the point of consequences and regret. The simple focused desire for an orgasm took away his individuality in the exact way the relentless conditioning required. And then slowly the vibration would abate, the exhausted boy would inadvertently moan in relief, and that moan would trigger in him an intense and deep relaxation aided by another breath of the chemicals enforcing his blank and malleable state.   «Down now, deeper, faster, further. Down, and down, and…» The vivid feeling of weightlessness clutched at the boy’s awareness, sending him floating into an abyss of nothingness. A rope around his chest clung desperately to the boy as he watched words of slavery and ownership fly through his mind, as he imagined neurons in his brain fusing to Sir’s will, as he felt planted roots penetrate and violate while conditioning took hold. What was once a boy and his core personality became a soft veneer as a new personality slowly built brick by brick in the subconscious of his mind. The words he could hear morphing in his brain so that now it was his own voice parroting the directives into him. “I am a toy, I need to obey.” “I must surrender. It feels so good to obey.” The entranced boy mouthed along, feeling such a deep yearning inside him to give away everything he was to his Sir. “I don’t know what’s best, only Sir can guide me in everything I do.” The sun was setting when the suit seemed to power down and muscle by muscle the boy regained control of his limbs. Able to finally move the boy curled up in a fetal position in a disoriented fear. The suit back peeled and for the first time in 7 hours the boy’s skin became visible. Methodically, and deliberately, the boy peeled back hood and found the easy to adjust dusk visible outside his window. Continuing in abundant caution, the boy removed the last of the suit until the boy was free and nude at last. Hazy, and steadying himself as he sat up, he looked down to see his cock soft as it had ever been but wet and slick with his impotent juice. Turning his gaze to the alarm clock his stomach grumbled and he realized that time was running short for any sort of birthday dinner. “I’m definitely hungry,” the boy said to himself, “and boys like me need to be fed.  I’m just not sure what to eat?” Thoughts of hunger unnaturally filled his head as the want for food turned into a need for fuel. “I’ll ask Sir. Sir will know what I should have!” the self-realization that decisions are best left Superiors made complete sense in his judgment. The boy smiled, then caught a glance of his naked and sweaty body. He moaned lewdly at the toy staring back at him, caught in the first bit of real pride he had felt in his life. 

[scramble-crossing]

what are you gonna be writing? like what kinda fics do you wanna write? btw you're awesome

Aww thanks!! That's very kind :']

Right now I'm working on a really long fic, and by "really long" I mean this is the outline so far

Hahaha...oh boy

It's an au/canon rewrite where, like Joshua, Sho could see the UG while he was alive! The first half follows him from childhood where he's this cheerful, adventurous, but somewhat sensitive little kid who's ostracized by his peers for his "strange" behavior, talking or reacting to things that seemingly aren't there, telling wild, elaborate stories about strange wolves and bears and even elephants that roam the city, boasting about this to everyone he meets and not understanding why they start to look at him oddly afterwards. In a way, the UG functions as a metaphor for (specifically undiagnosed) neurodivergencey. It's this big, omnipresent thing that Sho can't understand and which isolates him from the people around him. There's no one in his life who knows what he's going through, no one he can confide in who wouldn't just call him crazy.

Until the day he bumps into a Reaper. He takes pity on the poor kid, and tells him a censored version of what's happening. It's enough to reassure him that he isn't crazy...and to stoke his curiosity. The Reaper tells him that he'll be watching. He's a stargazer, and likes to keep an eye on the stars that shine the brightest.

Basically it explores how Sho might've become the person he is in canon and then carries on through to neo where I can finally fulfil my year long dream of giving him the redemption arc I was so convinced was gonna happen the first time I played it. I've been plotting this thing out since last year when I finished my first playthrough of neo and now I'm hoping to be able to start writing it sometime in May! It's a bit of an ambitious project, but I've written long projects before back when I had chronic eye pain and could only write 1-2 hours on a good day. In comparison this'll be a cakewalk! I think.

[bracketsoffear]

Big Brother propaganda, by which I mean The Party propaganda because he may or may not just be a representative of The Party:

The Party are the rulers of Oceania, led by “Big Brother,” their beloved leader who is worshipped as a god. The Party brutally purges out anyone who does not fully conform to their regime, using the Thought Police and constant surveillance through telescreens (two-way televisions), cameras, and hidden microphones. Those who fall out of favour with the Party become "unpersons", disappearing with all evidence of their existence destroyed. The telescreens are everywhere, from the workplace to your own apartment, constantly watching people, and their microphones are very sensitive to the point that they can apparently pick up a heartbeat. The worst part is that they're always on and cannot be turned off, except by Inner Party members (and even then they're not known to leave them off for longer than half an hour), and it's impossible to tell whether someone - i.e. the Thought Police - is observing you at any given moment, so the citizens of Oceania live under the assumption that they're being watched all the time. The antique shop owner who rents Winston and Julia a room to meet in is a Thought Police agent, and the rebellion is a lie to trap dissidents. In Ingsoc's ideology, the Party is completely omnipotent, omniscient, and omnipresent, existing at every point in space and time. O'Brien boasts that they, as the Party, are a collective Reality Warper that can distort and rewrite the past and even material reality itself, and everyone is forced to believe the absurdity lest they be tortured into believing it. Two plus two equals five if the Party wants it to. According to O’Brien, “The Party seeks power entirely for its own sake. We are not interested in the good of others; we are interested solely in power. Not wealth or luxury or long life or happiness: only power, pure power.”

.

[wisdomrays]

RELIGIOUSNESS and RELIGIOUS SENSITIVITY: Part 1

Question: Could you explain the meanings conveyed by the terms “religiousness” and “religious sensitivity”?

Answer: Religiousness has different degrees, from being reverent toward religious principles in theory, to practicing religious commandments and making religion the pervading spirit in one’s life. For example, some people know and believe in the essentials of faith and observe daily worship accordingly. On the other hand, some take faith in a rather immense sense; they follow what it commands and keep away from what it forbids with this approach. They go so far that, in addition to refraining from sin and fulfilling the obligatory commandments, they even take a stance against doubtful things, concerned about the possibility of committing something forbidden. They try to lead their lives as God-fearing believers. As for those who practice religion with a deeper consciousness, they always observe worship with a feeling of offering it to Divine inspection, and live with a full consciousness of God and His omnipresence. In this respect, there are various degrees of religiousness, stretching from the ground level to the stars in the sky. Incidentally, let me add that even with its primary level, religiousness bears a crucial value for people, and it should never be dismissed whatsoever.

As for religious sensitivity, it refers to very meticulous observation of religious principles in one’s personal life first, and then being exceedingly sensitive about the religious practices of one’s family members, close environment, and other people willing to benefit from his or her spiritual guidance. In other words, religious sensitivity means living with the fervor and enthusiasm as expressed by a saintly figure: “If only all people in the world loved the One I love; if only all of our words would be a narrative of the Beloved One”

I wish i could kindle love of God in hearts

A believer with religious sensitivity has the following feeling and thought about others: “How I wish I could tell these brothers and sisters about God and kindle love for Him in their hearts! How I wish I could evoke a passion of togetherness with God in them! How I wish, they could feel so close to God as to supplicate every time they raise their hands, as if saying: ‘My God, I am asking from You forgiveness, goodness, Your good pleasure, Your care, Divine zephyrs, company, closeness, the ability to love You as becomes Your glory, togetherness, protection, victories with Your help, and for You to be my guardian.’”

According to his or her degree, a believer who has such sensitivity will calculate how to help others attain such horizons, not only for people in their close sphere for but all of humanity. They will figure out how to evoke such enthusiasm in everyone. His cause will be to make others love the noble Spirit of the Master of Humankind, peace and blessings be upon him, to the degree of feeling a spasm deep in their spine when his majestic name is mentioned. On the other hand, such a believer feels agonized by witnessing people stagger, fall, or lapse, and exerts himself by finding out what else he can do to keep people away from the slippery grounds that cause people to fall into misguidance. In conclusion, he leads a very sensitive life with respect to guiding society, preventing falls, and putting a stop to detachment from religion.

Sensitivity of bringing others to life

As we have described, a true believer is not content with the Prophet’s blessed name ringing out from the minarets in his own country, but takes the hadith stating that his name will reach everywhere the sun rises and sets as an ideal; thus, he tries to lead his life accordingly. While pursuing his ideals, he never worries about his own pettiness and does not say, “What can a man like me do?” Knowing that God makes little things realize great works,[2] he always keeps walking with determination and dynamism, and always acts with a spirit of responsibility. He holds the understanding: “If there is a bosom full of faith somewhere, he can find a way and let all the hearts feel the inspirations of his spirit.” It needs to be known that if the horizons of one’s ideals cover an entire nation, God lets that person achieve great tasks, which would normally take an entire nation. As it happened with Prophet Abraham and the Pride of Humanity, God Almighty grants the honor of accomplishing such a lofty duty to that person as well.

All of these indicate being very sensitive in religious life, far beyond being merely religious. In other words, you can name this as a sensitivity of reviving or giving life to others. In this respect, it can be said that being religious and having religious sensitivity are different. However, these two have certain parallels. The furthest limit of religiousness can be summarized as refraining from doubtful things,[3] seeing oneself like a murderer for having missed a Prayer, and carrying out the necessity of Divine commandments in a flawless fashion with the utmost sensitivity. This also includes feeling glad with a consciousness of having received a Divine blessing after having fulfilled God’s commandments (instead of laying claim on that blessing and taking personal pride), and then having concerns as “I hope I did not adulterate this deed with sanctimonious considerations.” These points, which are considered as the furthest levels of religiousness, mark the beginning of religious sensitivity. As a consequence of that sensitivity, a believer who has a sensitivity of such immensity and depth wants to let others also experience what he feels and let them enjoy the blessings he enjoys.

[nohrianseneschal]

more writing practice idk if this will go anywhere

Corrin met Xander in the first summer of her internship. It was senior year of high school, and her father agreed to let her work in his office to boost her unremarkable list of extracurriculars. Her father was a distant yet generous man — an absentee patriarch who indulged her meager requests whenever she had the courage to ask. His law firm mainly handled divorce cases, which meant they always needed interns and temporary workers. 

Corrin had agreed that this would be a good look into her father’s work, and inwardly she considered it might provide an even better look into her own father. He had divorced her mother when she was barely four years old. For most of her life, Corrin thought of him merely as a voice on the other end of the phone, sending her monthly ‘stipends’ that far exceeded what she and her mother would ever need. 

“What harm could it do?” she asked rhetorically.

Her mother shook her head in tacit disapproval.

So she left sunny California and flew to New York, where she moved into a dormitory for itinerant high school seniors. Because of her father’s means and connections, she managed to reserve a room of her own, unshared and solitary with a corner window. When Corrin arrived, she briefly regretted this choice, as it instantly alienated her from other girls, who befriended their roommates and went off to lunch together. They always seemed to be murmuring outside her door, but they would be gone by the time she went out to join them.

Her first week at work was hectic. The incessant ringing of telephones and constant requests for coffee by junior and senior associates chafed at her nerves. Once, she almost got run over by a taxi cab crossing the street to the nearby Starbucks. A stack of cappuccinos and ‘Blonde Roast’ coffees impeded her vision, putting her within inches of certain death. The aggressive taxi driver’s honk stopped her in time, and she narrowly squeezed between the small gap separating the lanes. By the end of the work day, she would leave the office frazzled, her hair puffy and unkempt with frizz. 

“How’s the internship going?” her mother cheerfully asked on the phone.

Corrin was sitting in her room. She kept the lights off, as her eyes were sensitive to the omnipresent brightness of the city. Outside her door, she could hear the muffled echoes of laughter and chatter from the girls who were going out for the night.

“Good,” she lied. Despite being on the phone, she forced herself to smile, hoping it might brighten her despondent tone.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Okay,” her mother replied. “Have you had dinner? Do you need money?”

Her mother’s voice was bubbly, but a slight tremor of concern nevertheless carried through. Corrin sighed and said she had eaten on her way home. The truth was, she had no appetite and merely wanted to sleep. 

“Your father said he would put money into your account,” Mikoto said. “Let me know if it didn’t go through.”

“Okay mom. Thanks, I will. I’m going to bed now.”

“Okay, bye sweetie! I love you!”

“Love you too. Goodnight.”

She hung up before her mother could say ‘goodnight.’