#inner layer activation

[ingoampt]

Day 11 _ Activation Function

Activation Functions in Neural Networks Activation Functions in Neural Networks: Why They Matter Activation functions are pivotal in neural networks, transforming the input of each neuron to its output signal, thus determining the neuron’s activation level. This process allows neural networks to handle tasks such as image recognition and language processing effectively. The Role of Different…

[heniareth]

Not to go uhm akshually on a funny post, but I do think the interpretation I have heard of can be very interesting. In Old English, lords with vassals are often referred to as "ring-givers". This webpage (https://csis.pace.edu/grendel/projs2003a/Johane,Heidi&Yee/Ring.htm) explains it better than I can:

During the Anglo-Saxon period, the word "ring-giver" is also labeled as a kenning, which is an extended metaphor. It simply turns ‘ring’ into a metaphorical term.

The word “ring-giver” really means the king or overlord. However, there is more to the definition. The soldiers, or men who returned home from fighting for their king or land, would receive valuable charms from the king or overlord, such as arm-rings or neck-rings. In this case, the king is known as the ‘ring-giver’ because he distributes priceless gold only to those bold men. In other words, ring-givers distribute wealth for special purposes. The arm-rings and neck-rings distributed by the ring-giver are a reward for warriors’ enormous courage and strength. The brave heroes, who show off their arm-rings and neck-rings in public, eventually make the others jealous of their courage and values. Therefore, the heroes guard these precious jewels with their life.

And Wikipedia has the following to say:

Beowulf describes ring-giving as having a central role in building social cohesion among the retainers of a lord, who is in turn referred to by the kenning "ring-giver".[13]Thanes are given treasures such as rings, and after accepting them enter into an agreement to remain loyal in return;[14] in this practice, the significance for building relations is in the cultural value of the exchange rather than the objective value of the ring, or other treasure, itself.[15]

(https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rings_in_early_Germanic_cultures)

The rings, therefore, are a sign that the wearers are beholden to Sauron—or at least the power that those rings grant them is. This is why it's also such a big deal that Sauron, if memory serves me, never lays hand on the elven rings (those were purely Celebrimbor's work). The rings are, both in form and in function, things that Sauron wants to use to rule over the rulers he gives them to.

As to why he makes himself a ring too instead of a sword or smth—that I don't know.

What made Sauron decide to make and distribute rings, specifically? Did Sauron assume that the races really wanted rings over anything else? Would some other object also have worked to give him dominion? Why not crowns? 

Also, nothing leads us to believe that Sauron needed a ring to control the other rings. He put his power into it, but couldn’t he just put his power into a magical sword to control whatever objects he made? Why did it all have to be rings?

My conclusion is that Sauron really wanted to wear a big gold ring, and justified everything else after making this decision. 

[empyrealoasis]

‧₊˚ The Science Behind @luckykiwiii101's Distraction Technique *ೃ༄

Relaxing °. *࿐

Relaxation techniques are more effective when the body is at ease. A comfortable position minimizes physical distractions and prepares the body for a shift into a relaxed, meditative state, which is essential for reducing stress and activating the parasympathetic nervous system.

The Alpha State °. *࿐

Alpha Brainwaves: The alpha state refers to a brainwave frequency range (8-12 Hz) that is associated with relaxation, creativity, and heightened suggestibility. Alpha is a common state for the brain and occurs whenever a person is alert, but not actively processing information. You can increase alpha by closing your eyes or deep breathing and decrease alpha by thinking or calculating. ଳ Sub band low alpha: 8-10: inner-awareness of self, mind/body integration, balance ଳ Sub band high alpha: 10-12: centering, healing, mind/body connection

Counting and Visualization: Counting down and visualizing numbers can help quiet the mind, reduce external distractions, and induce relaxation. This repetitive task shifts attention inward and promotes alpha wave activity. It activates areas of the brain linked to visualization, like the occipital and parietal lobes. Adding another layer of mental activity, further grounding you in the internal, relaxed state.

Distraction Through Visualization °. *࿐

Distraction vs. Focus: The paradox here is that by intentionally distracting yourself with a scene or an internal activity (like playing a song mentally), you stop focusing on the external world (the "3D"). This detachment from external stimuli is key to shifting into an altered state of consciousness.

Default Mode Network (DMN): When you visualize or let your mind wander, the DMN, a network of brain regions activated during rest and self-referential thought, becomes active. This helps in decoupling from immediate sensory input and encourages a meditative or void-like state.

Letting Go: The act of distraction prevents overthinking about reaching the void, which can be counterproductive. When you're engrossed in a scene or mental song, you're no longer "trying," which facilitates a natural shift into the void.

Induce Pure Consciousness °. *࿐

Guaranteed Results: The process relies on reducing external focus and internal resistance. The void state is associated with a deeply relaxed state of consciousness, where mental barriers (ego) dissolves. This does not mean it's a deep meditative state, it's just "pure consciousness" as its name suggests.

Neuroscientific Basis °. *࿐

Relaxation Response: Inducing the alpha state triggers the relaxation response, reducing stress hormones (like cortisol) and increasing focus.

Cognitive Load Diversion: By distracting the conscious mind with visualization or mental activities, the subconscious becomes more accessible.

Hypnagogic State: The method resembles techniques used to enter the hypnagogic state, a transitional phase between wakefulness and sleep, where visualization and suggestion are potent.

[nap-thym3]

Sebastian Solace(Pressure) x Reader/Self-Insert 🌊

Part-One /Fluff/1,886 Words

____________

Synopsis: In which when I first played pressure I just stood and stared at Sebastian’s character model for a solid five minutes. So this was born. yayayaya

____________

Army crawling on your knees and elbows, your chest rattles with your wheezing breaths. Truth was, you’d never been an active person. The most legwork you’d gotten in a day was typically at work, and even then, that was minimal. Suffice to say, being thrust into this shitshow of a scenario where running from constant threats was the norm, the situation couldn’t be anymore dire.

You wave a hand about in front of yourself, fanning away the disrupted layers of dust that fluttered in the cramped ventilation shaft as your rasping coughs bounce off the walls and create a cacophony of god-awful racket. You mutter a slew of curses to yourself, clapping your palm over your nose and mouth in a pitiful attempt to stifle your coughing fit. It would be just your luck for a nearby eldritch-horror to overhear your pathetic, asthmatic-self in the vents and drag you out by the ankles. The thought alone brings an electrifying jolt of anxiety through your person, and if you had the space you’d be looking over your shoulder in paranoia. Alas, the best you could do was put your jittering nerves to use and crawl just that little bit faster. Honestly, it was an accomplishment in of itself that you managed to shimmy-shammy your adult self into such a claustrophobic passage in the first place. If you hadn’t known any better, you would’ve just marched straight past the most convenient and inviting looking vent in the world. Probably assuming it to be a blatant trap. Except, you did know better. Just a few feet ahead lay maybe the only place in the entire bowels of this hellscape where you felt you were well and truly safe.

Crawling out of the shaft like an NYC subway rat, you’re finally free to hack up your lungs in peace without fear of death by angler. At least, no death from this one in particular. Blindly you lean back to sit on your haunches, eyes straining to pick up any movement in the darkness.

“Oh. It’s you.” Your shoulder’s jump as a voice drawls from the far-side of the room. Soon after, a gentle glow begins to illuminate the occupied space.

Now with your gracious host offering you visibility, you blink your adjusting vision over to watch as Sebastian seemingly just wraps up whatever file he’d been perusing in the dark. Before you can even attempt to try and sneak a peek at whatever he’d been reading, said folder closes shut with a swift snap. The merchant then carefully tucks the item away into his inner-coat’s pocket. A shame, your snooping has been so swiftly shut down before it ever had a chance to begin- you pout at the missed opportunity. Sebastian catches your longing gaze fixated on his coat, and gives a condescending little pat to the area where you know the concealed document is to be hiding. Wordlessly daring you to even try. Cheeky fish.

“Not even a ‘Hello’ or ‘How are you’? I could’ve been dying in there!” You bemoan in a familiar way of greeting, gesticulating between yourselves wildly as you saunter forward. Sebastian, unphased by your usual eccentricities, drags an unimpressed eye over your much smaller form. Analyzing. Probably looking at your absolutely filthy diving suit- sweat-drenched and caked in dust, grime, and maybe even a little bit of blood as it was. At least you assumed so, if the distaste visibly evident in his features was anything to go by.

“I was hoping whoever it was would die a little more quickly.” Was his dry response, before turning his head in indifference; seeming to have found whatever it was he was looking for on your person.

You scoff, “I see chivalry really is dead.” You gripe without any real bite in your voice. Already beginning to survey the merchant’s wares. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch him as he begins to preen over his nails, pretending to be checking for dirt. Or blood, you didn’t know the guy well enough to say for certain what he did in his free-time. Your attention travels upwards, from his large hands up to his round face. The light emanating from his angler’s bulb casts an almost ethereal glow to his features. Especially with the way his eyes gleam that cerulean blue that’s quickly becoming a favorite color of yours. In addition to these qualities, there’s a very light sprinkling of bioluminescent freckles smattered across his cheeks. Sort of reminiscent to that of stars. Idly your fingers twitch, the sudden urge to reach up and map them like constellations startlingly strong. All these qualities make Sebastian feel so surreal, so out of this world. In juxtaposition to all of that, you’re confident to say that if he had the means, he’d be snobbishly turning his nose up at you right about now. The mental image brings a small, secretive smile to your face.

Sebastian rolls his eyes- or at least, you get the impression that he does. His lack of distinctive pupils makes it hard to tell.

“Are you going to actually buy something today?” He snips, cocking out a hip. “Or are you just going to keep gawking at me?” The merchant sneers through grit teeth(or maybe that was just his face?).

Snapping out of your reverie, caught with your hand in the proverbial cookie-jar, blood rushes to your head as you grin sheepishly up at his accusatory glare.

“Sorry, you’re just…” you wave a hand up beside yourself, willing the right words to come to you. Sebastian, amused by your silent floundering, quirks a knowing eyebrow at you. As if saying ‘Go on?’ The soundless goading sends you into a mental spiral- what did that mean? What did he think you were going to say? God- you don’t want to accidentally offend him, but you also don’t want to sound like a complete idiot. You gulp, mouth opening and closing a few times as you attempt to formulate words that will appease him.

Seemingly tired of you embarrassing yourself, Sebastian moved to speak, assumedly in an act of mercy from this sad display. Quickly, you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind, before he could beat you to the punch.

“You’re just really pretty.” Mortified, you clap your hands over your mouth. Yup. Those are. Definitely words that you just said. To his face.

Muscles tensing, you brace for his reaction. You’re not sure what you’re expecting, disgust, maybe? Mocking laughter, most probably. Any and all situations your brain can conjure up are absolutely humiliating in equal measure. However, as one moment drags into two, and the silence has still yet to be breached, you cautiously look Sebastian’s way. The sight that greets you is a rare one. The infamous Z-13, Sebastian Solace, is left speechless.

The Merchant’s smug expression falters, a look of genuine astonishment crossing his face. The dim light cast by his lure does little to mask the way his stature curls inwards slightly. A slight too much, in your opinion. You can see the muscles in his jaw clenching and unclenching- as though internally wrestling with a response. Just as you had been a moment prior. The knowledge that he was just as at a loss for words as you were eases the tension in your shoulders, if only by a hair. Miser so does love its company, after-all. There’s a brief pause, heavy and awkward, until he finally speaks, his voice softer than usual.

“Pretty?” he echoes, almost disbelievingly. He then swallows, visibly thrown off-kilter.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been called… At-At least- that is to say, not in a good long while.” The second half of his sentence is murmured, as if mostly said to himself. But you had overheard, and he looks as if to have noticed the way your brows pinch in a confusing whirlpool of emotions. Mostly sympathy, pity, among other emotions neither of you were too entirely ready to put out on the table. God forbid you two express emotional maturity and speak plainly like adults. Sebastian flexes his long tail, the serpentine appendage looking as if it were going to either pull or push you away. However, before it can make any progress in either endeavor, Sebastian, -noticeably uncomfortable- clears his throat.

“Silly little thing.” He croons, swooping down from his towering height to give you a patronizing pinch to the cheek with his clawed index and thumb. “You should be mindful of your tongue, hmmm?” As he speaks, his usual edge returns to his voice. Your head helplessly tilts side-to-side with the motion of his ‘affection’. Affronted, and a little whip-lashed with his quick recovery, you swat the offending hand away from your face.

“Jerk! I was trying to be nice!” Despite the biting words, you can’t help but feel relieved to be set back on familiar ground. Whatever emotional vulnerability present in the moment prior was slowly ebbing away, returning to your regularly scheduled squabbling. Sebastian chuckles, bodily retreating to his previous stature and re-clasping his hands before himself with an echoing ‘clap’. You rub at your reddened cheeks, whether their heat was due to Sebastian’s rough treatment or from an entirely other emotion, was only for you to know.

Sebastian continues on distractedly, seeming to have already recollected his composure. “Flattery will get you nowhere here, you know. But… thanks.” You think you see his eyes dart away for a brief moment, before locking onto yours again. A curl of his typical smirk splaying across his lips.

You gasp dramatically, a goofy smile erupting on your face. “The mighty Sebastian? Saying thanks?” You tease.

Sebastian waves a hand about in the air dismissively. “Yeah yeah, just don’t let it get to your head.” He says, crossing his arms defensively. He steamrolls on before you get anymore wise ideas to- eugh, compliment him. “Now hurry up and buy something already!” He snaps, motioning to the various goodies strapped to his person. Not having to be told thrice now, you hurry and make your selections. Eager to move on from everything and anything to do with word ‘cute’. Nothing major, just a few batteries for the road and a mobile hacker or two. Sebastian seems to approve of your choices, and if the price he demands of you seems a little cheaper than the usual- well. You certainly weren’t going to complain.

Getting everything tucked neatly away and ready to go, you begin to trek back towards the vent before being stopped once more by Sebastian.

“Oh! And Traveller?” He calls. With an answering hum, you look back to maybe your only friend down here. The merchant in question seems to look like he’s turning something over in his head, before continuing with a withering sigh.

“Try not to get yourself killed out there, alright? I’d hate to lose such a profitable costumer.” He sing-songs grimly. Despite the harsh words, you can’t help but notice a slight undertone of warm endearment. Feeling like a certified Sebastian-whisperer, you pride swells in your chest at being able to read between the lines. With a barely concealed snicker at his thinly-veiled concern, you toss a final farewell his way before retreating. All throughout the next dozen or so rooms, you journey forward with a skip in your step. Feeling invigorated with newfound determination knowing that a certain merchant was counting on your safe return.

______________

eeeughh I’m so rusty with writing. Like. It’s not even funny how long this took me for just a one-shot? Idk I might continue this, I just suck so bad at staying motivated for fanfics. Anywho, hope any fellow Sebastian enjoyers out there liked this, there’s not enough content out there of him👍 please make more content guys pls I’m starved for the fics puh-LEASEE

[gojoest]

MDNI, f! reader, fingering, thigh fucking, creampie, satoru calls you pretty + my darling + my love, he cums so easily, wc: 1.1k, not proofread as always, bit messy too (i am so sleep deprived)

the fresh, tangy scent of coffee wafted through the air, momentarily distracting your senses from the smell of sex lingering on you from last night’s activities as you watched the coffee machine fill your mug. elbows resting on the counter as you waited for your drink, and a few seconds in—your nose adapted, you could once again distinguish the musk soaked into your skin.

you smelled like satoru — his cum, his sweat — lots of it in fact; but also like yourself. both of you combined and oiled all over your body, especially on your inner thighs.

you had noticed, in fact as soon as you got up and made your way to the kitchen — layers of his now dried load parched and glued onto the plush between your legs, reminding you of how many times he came inside you last night, ineluctably feeling its still somewhat sticky texture as your legs brushed against each other with every step.

a soft smile cracked your lips at the sound of footsteps approaching from behind you. it was time, you thought, he was coming to you.

satoru could never stay in bed too long without you. no matter what kind of deep slumber he were to be in, he’d always wake up shortly after were you to sneak out. i become restless when you’re not in my arms, he would say.

“morning”, you smiled but didn’t turn around. “coffee?”

“morning, pretty”. he stopped right behind you. you figured he was naked — the tip of his cock, hard and rigidly up already, was poking at the small of your back.

a hand slid under the oversized shirt you had quickly tossed on yourself, palming the bare cheeks of your ass — “i want some of that, definitely” — grabbing a handful and squeezing it inside his massive hand.

a hum dragged out of you, body jolting and back arching from the way the squishing caused one of his fingers to graze against your cunt, the tip of it almost prodding at your entrance. “i’m so hard, i can bust any moment”, his voice still low and loaded with sleep. there was something so undeniably sexy about the way he spoke to you in the mornings. drowsy, husky and lower than usual. “but i want it to be in you”

he rested his chin on your shoulder from behind, snaking his other arm around your waist to hold you still while the one between your legs worked the arousal out of you carefully. two digits rubbing against your folds, wiping the insides of your lips with the tips. you could feel a huge portion of your slick gathering at your entrance, threatening to blob on the floor any moment. but his hungry hand went for it first — he used his entire palm to wipe it off and then held it tightly pressed against your cunt for a few moments.

“s-shit”, you hissed, head falling down.

lifting the hem of your shirt you watched as his fingers peeked from in front. it was such an obscene view — your entire pussy inside his massive palm.

“can’t have you making a mess here, my darling. it’s the kitchen after all — it’s where we eat”, he pulled his hand away only to smear your slick all over his cock with a few slow strokes.

“says the man who’s fucked me on every possible surface in this very kitchen”

“almost every surface — i didn’t fuck you by the coffee machine, you see”, the smug in his voice was evident, “gotta fix that now. you just stay still and pretty the way you are”

bending his knees he lowered himself just enough to sneak his cock between the gap of your legs and brought your thighs together with his hands forcing them to clench around him. you smiled after realizing what he was up to. “can you cum from this?”, you looked at him over your shoulder.

“i can cum just by being next to you, my darling”, he breathed out a moan at the friction around his throbbing cock, pushing himself forward and effortlessly sliding across your sopping cunt all thanks to the little prep sesh from before.

“oh, f-fuck—“, satoru quivered when you took his tip poking out from in front and pressed it against your clit. “—fuck”, squeezing your thighs, bringing them more together, he settled into a rhythm of slowly drawing his hips back and forth into the slippery crevasse between your legs. “keep holding it like that… please, my love—it makes your lips kiss my cock”, he groaned through yet another slow thrust forward. the squelching noises, too, they were fucking with his brain. the vast ocean of you was right before him, yet he was only dipping his feet. regardless, it felt so fucking good.

“of course, baby”, you breathed, holding his cock flat against yourself from the underside — helping the upper side grind harder against your pussy, rubbing it on your clit each time he pushed himself forward. you couldn’t help but bite your lip as you watched his cock go in and out of the gap of your thighs swiftly.

“nghh..”, satoru moaned, his breathing now shallow as he felt the tingles at the base of his shaft. the tension rising in his groin rapidly, he wasn’t sure if he could endure a few more strokes without busting his balls out. “i’m sorry, love… don’t think i can hold it back…”, sweat dripping down his face and onto the back of your shoulder, he was desperately trying to keep his load under control as part of him was guilty that he was about to finish first.

“shh”, you hushed, rocking your hips against him to match his pace, to help him out. “you can cum, baby — do it for me”

your words were almost the end of him, but he managed to stop himself and paused his ministrations. pulling back from you slightly to spread his legs a bit more and grab a hold of his throbbing cock to guide it into your entrance and slowly slide it in.

“fuck” — he wasn’t even halfway in when all the tension in his balls suddenly released. he let out a loud groan, body slightly spasming as he shot a hot glob of his cum inside you…

extra:

“see — when i cum there is no mess”, his hands circled around your waist from behind (cock still inside you)

“that’s because you unload inside me. besides you haven’t pulled out yet”, you snorted, placing your hands over his.

“i’m not pulling out, yet”, his lips kissed the top of your head. “but i will ask of you to walk with me to the table”

“hmm, and why would i do that?”

“i am going to eat you there, for breakfast”

[jarofstyles]

I love the idea of like imagine them having a random conversation completely unrelated to anything theyre doing, maybe its like after sex or something so theyre naked and shes straddling him or honestly hes straddling her doesnt matter lol, and he is just palming at her and pinching her nipples with a ~hiss~ , but still being engaged in the conversation

Omg love this idea let me write a bit of that!

Check out our Patreon for early access and 300+ exclusive writings

Warnings- nipple play, cockwarming, unprotected sex, play fighting, slight chihuahua slander (I had one I promise it isn’t personal), name calling, gossip

“S’not really my business, but in my opinion they aren’t compatible.” It wasn’t Harry’s business, no, but he always had an opinion. The man had a soft spot for gossip.

“I don’t think so either.” Y/N’s hands dragged down his chest, stroking over the soft, thin layer of hair that had begun growing there. “It’s like… she told me they get dressed right after sex. They don’t like seeing each other naked besides for sex.” Her face showed how odd she thought it was, but she knew she was a bit biased. Considering they’d been finished for a little bit now and she was as naked as the day she was born- and he was still snugly warm inside of her- she knew that their relationship acted on different perimeters than most of her friends.

There was no hint of shy between the two of them. Being naked together was an activity they both enjoyed since the earlier days of their intimacy. Skin to skin did wonders for them.

“Mm.” Harry sighed, looking from her tits back up to her eyes. “Yeah. Wouldn’t really fly with us, now would it?” Taking her pebbled nipple between his fingers, he tweaked it a little bit to get a squeak out of her. The tiny glare melted when he tugged at it a little bit, rolling it between his fingertips. “Think I’d probably die if I didn’t get my all access pass t’these babies.”

Letting out a little snort, Y/N closed her eyes as she let him play with her. “Yeah, yeah. We’ve got an abnormally nice relationship though. I’m always sitting in silence when some of my friends talk about their partners like they hate them. It’s weird.” It wasn’t like Y/N hadn’t had bad relationships but she didn’t like that it felt like the norm for a lot of people around her.

“Well, S’a bit complicated. A lot of them probably feel like they invested a lot of time into the relationship and don’t want t’call it because it’ll feel like a waste.” He was speaking from prior experience. Before he met Y/N he had been in a dull, resentful relationship that he was simply too stubborn to leave.

Thank fuck that was over.

“Yeah. I don’t want to be super judgmental.” Her breathing caught as he switched to her other nipple. Tossing her slightly sweat damp hair over her shoulder, she leaned further into his touch as he sat up with her in his lap to give her a kiss.

“You? Judgmental?” Harry was being facetious against her lips. His girlfriend had subjected him to her inner monologue while watching Project Runway. She was at least a little bit judgey.

“Watch it.” Her fingers pinched his nose lightly which made his features scrunch up. “Or I’ll pinch your nipples this time.”

“Do it. A little tit play doesn’t scare me.” He sniffed, taking her other breast in his hand. Double fisting, so to speak. “I’m happy to explore things with you. Just say the word-“ A hiss interrupted his sentence, a handful of his hair now tugged roughly and jerking his head back a little bit. “Rude.”

Y/N rose a brow at him considering they both felt him twitch inside of her from the manhandling.

“I’m correcting you. You keep misbehaving. Have to train you somehow.”

“What am I? A golden retriever?” He sputtered, though there was no real displeasure on his face. They both knew he liked to be roughed up a little bit.

“No. You’re a chihuahua.”

“A chihuahua?” The word was exasperated, the ego taking a hit. “I’d much rather be a golden retriever. The fuck?”

“Yep. You’re yappy, you tend to have one or two favorite people, aka me, more bark than bite- ouch, watch your fuckin’ fingers- like to play dress up, you could be considered an ankle biter-“ The last of her sentence was cut off with an ‘Oof’ as he took the relaxed state of her to manhandle right back, tossing her on her back.

“Watch your mouth.” He grunted, wrestling her slightly as he trapped both her wrists and pinned them above her. “Rude ass little thing you are. Thought two orgasms would have fucked the attitude out of you, but apparently- stop fucking squirming- you like to be a brat.”

Y/N blinked up at him with a scowl. “You like my attitude. Quite literally told me that when I talk back, you get hard.” Despite the play of trying to free her arms, she lifted her legs to wrap around his hips. “Now we’re both stuck. See? You had to go n’toss me like a doll or something.”

“A man with the essence of a chihuahua wouldn’t be able to do that.” Harry snarked back, pushing himself to the hilt inside of her. “Made me have to take over and you’ve gone and leaked spunk all over the place. What a mess.” Shaking his head, he leaned down to bite her bottom lip, not exactly gently. “Now M’gonna have to push it all back into you. Always causing problems, aren’t you?”

[loveemagicpeace]

🌙Things u should do based on your moon sign🌙

Cancer moon-you should do things that are more related to water (swimming, journaling by the ocean, driving to the ocean, bathing with crystals). Things related to emotions, intuition, something close to your heart. Take time for yourself. Cooking and preparing your favorite foods can be very emotionally fulfilling. Travel can also be part of this. Create a home that feels like a safe haven—a place where you can retreat and recharge. Spend quality time with loved ones, especially those who offer you unconditional care and support. Cancer Moons need to connect emotionally, so make sure you nurture yourself through self-care practices like cooking comfort food, taking long baths, or spending time in the arms of those who truly see you. Allow yourself to process your emotions deeply, and don’t be afraid to show your vulnerability to those you trust.

Pisces moon- you should do more things related to your subconscious. Something that will fulfill your soul. You like to have your private space. You should read more books. Sleep can also be very good for you. You can also you express things through art, music. Walks are also good for the soul. Create a sanctuary where you can retreat from the world. Meditation, artistic expression, and connecting with your intuition will soothe your soul. Compassion is central to your emotional life, so helping others or engaging in spiritual practices will replenish you. Pisces Moons benefit from creative or artistic pursuits that allow them to express their inner world. Embrace your emotional sensitivity and go with the flow of your feelings—don’t suppress them.

Scorpio moon- you should do things that are more related to your body. Sports like kickboxing, judo and other sports. Mainly because you can express your energy through anger. Diving could be one of the things you would also really like. You can really enjoy places that are darker. You like good wine and also a suspenseful series. Embrace emotional catharsis—whether through deep conversations, creative expression, or a form of therapy. Scorpio Moons need to explore their inner world, so journaling, meditation, or soul-searching practices are healing for them. Don’t shy away from emotional intensity or vulnerability—it’s through these moments that Scorpio Moons can truly heal and grow. Allow yourself to transform emotionally and embrace the process of shedding old emotional layers to make room for something new.

Aries moon- you should do more things related to your body and head. Something that motivates you and something you can compete in. Something that sparks passion in you and that you can be active in. You should do more things that involve you and your energy. Anything that involves a purpose gives you will.  Find ways to express yourself through movement and energy—whether it's through physical activity, adventure, or taking bold steps towards personal goals. Aries Moons thrive when they can act spontaneously and take charge of their own emotional direction. Solo time to recharge and pursuing their passions is key to their emotional balance. Don't be afraid to ignite that inner fire and tackle things head-on.

Leo moon- you should do more things related to fun. You should express your childish energy more. Hanging out with friends, going to clubs. Something that involves creativity and also drama. Theaters or operas could be potential. Embrace your creative side—whether it's through performance, art, or taking pride in your achievements. Leo Moons thrive when they can be the center of attention, but more importantly, they need genuine admiration and appreciation. Spend time in celebration, whether that’s throwing a party or simply basking in the love of others. Practice self-expression and allow your heart to shine unapologetically.

Virgo moon- you should do more things related to your health, maybe even to other people. Something you can do to help or serve others. Cycling can be something that gives you a lot of joy. Organize your life—both physically and mentally. Creating routines and systems for emotional well-being is essential. Virgo Moons thrive when they feel helpful and productive, so offering practical support to others or engaging in meaningful service will nurture them emotionally. Be kind to yourself and allow for small, incremental steps toward emotional wellness. Mindfulness and small daily rituals can help them maintain emotional clarity.

Taurus moon- you should do more things related to your joy and feelings. Food can often be a part of feeling fulfilled. Listening to music, walking in nature. Gardening can be one of the things that can be very emotionally relaxing. Dinners with friends can make you happy. One of the activities that can be good is pottery. Create a serene sanctuary where you can rest your heart. Surround yourself with soothing, beautiful things—soft blankets, lush plants, and comforting smells. Taurus Moons need to ground themselves through the physical world. Trust in your ability to build a steady foundation for your emotions, and practice patience with yourself as you find emotional peace.

Capricorn moon- you should do more things that are not related to career and work. Even tho not all the capricorns are lovers of working. Maybe you'd be interested in things with history. Also really good book can be good for your mood. Museums can be very relaxing. You are often more productive in the evening, so evening classes can be very good for you. Focus on setting practical goals that align with your long-term vision. Capricorn Moons need to build emotional security through hard work, but they also need to find ways to express their vulnerability in a safe, controlled environment. Establish routines that bring a sense of stability and purpose. Mentorship or guidance from those you respect can also provide emotional support. Invest in your growth through tangible efforts that will lead to emotional fulfillment.

Sagittarius moon-you should do more things related to travel, beliefs, growth. Sports that may be good for you include; hockey, basketball, soccer. Active and daring sports can also be enjoyed as they are (skating, water skiing). You always like to learn something new and you like things that have some meaning. Myths about life and things are interesting to you. Philosophy and sociology are subjects that can excite you. Travel somewhere where is inspiring for you is very good for your soul.  Seek out new experiences—whether through travel, learning, or exploring different philosophies. Sagittarius Moons thrive when they feel they can expand emotionally and mentally, so diving into new ideas, cultures, or beliefs helps them grow. Adventure can take many forms- explore your mind, read new books, or embark on a new intellectual or creative pursuit.

Aquarius moon- you should do more things that are related to group or are very different. You love everything related to technology, science, and innovation. Chemistry could be a very relaxing thing for you. Humanitarianism and charity, where there are more people, could be good for you. • Connect with like-minded individuals or engage in group activities that support your ideals and beliefs. Aquarius Moons thrive when they feel they are part of a larger collective or movement. Nurture your individuality and embrace your uniqueness. Self-expression and connection with others who share your progressive visions is key to emotional fulfillment. Take time for reflection and introspection—freedom is essential for your emotional well-being.

Libra moon- you should do more things that are related to other beauty, fashion. You love spending time with others, especially your partner. Which means you like it when you take a day off and spend it with this person and pamper yourself. A concert by your favorite band could cheer you up, a romantic trip, dancing. Shopping for new clothes and makeup is also something that can be very relaxing. Sometimes you can buy things when you're in a bad mood. Spend time with people who make you feel loved and cherished, and avoid those who drain your emotional energy. Work on creating emotional equilibrium, whether by resolving conflicts or seeking fairness. Engage in shared experiences that bring a sense of unity and connectedness.

Gemini moon- you should do more things related to communication, expressing yourself. Reading and writing can be very emotionally fulfilling for you. A very good and quality conversation can make your day better, especially since you are an emotionally stimulating person. You like to follow things you can learn a lot about, like the news. You are distracted by more things, which means that the more options you have, the more emotionally fulfilled you are. Surround yourself with conversations that make you think. Read, write, or take up a new hobby that feeds your curiosity. Journaling your thoughts or talking things out with friends will help you process emotions. Find outlets where you can express yourself freely—Gemini Moons need to be able to process emotionally through words and mental exploration. Find joy in learning new things or experiencing something different each day.

-Rebekah🌊🧚🏻‍♀️✨

[itsswritten]

butterfly kisses

Pairing: Azriel x fem reader

Word Count: 1.7K (honestly it's just a little drabble)

Warnings: 18+, implied smut, lots of fluff, mating frenzy

Summary: Azriel just can't get enough of your wings <3

Wings Universe - More from this world.

Azriel wasn’t sure how he’d gotten so lucky.

He had thanked the Mother every day since the bond snapped, and even more when you accepted it. When Mor had introduced you into his life only a couple of years ago, he never imagined this would be the outcome.

Azriel vividly remembered the first night he met you. It was another gathering at Rita’s, one of the many that had unfolded, now peace settled over the land. 

Mor with playful determination had pulled you over to their table, arm looped around yours– almost in a way that said she wasn’t going to let you escape. He had noticed the faint blush that creeped up your face to your pointed ears, merely from the proximity of your High Lord and Lady, and their inner circle. He recalled how you offered a shy little curtsy in their presence, that had led to the whole table stifling their laughter. Rhys kindly explained that such formalities were not necessary, especially not in Rita’s of all places. Azriel did his best to contain his mirth at the display, all the while chewing the inside of his cheek to stop the chuckle leaving his lips. He truly couldn’t get over how adorable you were, he'd found himself captivated by your endearing innocence. 

And that was only the start.

Mor explained how she’d met you in town one day and had essentially thrusted her friendship onto you, and it really didn’t take long for Azriel and his family to do the same. 

You were so sweet and caring, and slotted into Azriel’s life so easily that he found it hard to remember a time when you weren’t there at all. Your kindness towards the Archeron sisters, guiding them through the intricate transitions of fae life that they still at times struggled with. Nyx was absolutely enamoured with you, oftentimes seeking your company over his actual family. But they didn’t blame him, because they all did same. Your calm sweet nature was addictive to them all, especially Azriel.

Driven by an insatiable curiosity, Azriel found himself seeking every opportunity to unravel all your layers. He wanted to know everything about you. From your favourite foods, to the books that captured your attention.

His infatuation all made sense when the bond snapped. 

It was the last solstice.

Azriel had noticed how beautiful you were looking, as you always were. But you were clad in a breathtaking pale pink summer dress, the neckline delicately showcasing your décolletage. As you moved with a natural grace, the fabric billowed ever so slightly at the waist, accentuating your silhouette in a manner that held attention.

Or at least held Azriel’s attention. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you.

He watched you carefully navigate the chaos of the room. Nyx in one arm, giving Feyre some rest and reprieve in her pregnant state. Your other hand bringing in the cake Elain had spent all morning baking. Amidst the flurry of activity, you had been so close to dropping the cake. But Azriel's steady hand intervened just in time, grabbing the plate and taking it off you. Except in that moment your hands touched, grazed past one another in a way they had so many times before. 

But that time had been different.

It was Azriel’s turn to almost drop the cake. That all consuming warmth flooded his chest catching him off guard. A golden thread connecting itself to you. The mating bond. Finally.

And based on the bright red flush covering your cheeks, it was clear you’d felt it too. You’d fled the room then, overcome with emotion and what this new revelation meant. 

Though, it didn’t take long for Azriel to coax you round.

Ever the gentleman, he courted you. Taking you on the most thoughtful dates and spoiling you with bouquet after bouquet of flowers. He would leave little love notes and poetry for you to find. That it was really no surprise to anyone, when you decided to accept the bond.

That was only three weeks ago now.

Yourself and Azriel were deep in the mating frenzy. 

Rhys had kindly offered one of his private residences he had on the outskirts of Night. A smaller cottage, but with all the privacy you both needed. And Azriel had taken advantage of that privacy eliciting sounds from you that he would cherish forever and never tire hearing.

And then there were your wings. 

You had revealed them to him the first night after accepting the mating bond, and, Gods, was he done for.

Azriel had taken it upon himself, in the earlier months, to really vet you. His dedication to his role as Spymaster served as a guise for his self-indulgent exploration of you, delving into the intricate details of your being with a hunger that bordered on obsession. Not only had he discovered all the things you love, but he searched for details of who and what you were.

Finding himself holed up in the library at times, hours spent devoted to aquainiting himself to the type of fairy you were. 

He knew you had wings, was the type of fairy whose wings were the delicate kind. Most kept them concealed with magic. Yet, Azriel couldn't shake the thought that perhaps they were hidden not only for protection but also out of reverence for their breathtaking beauty. They were mesmerising. Enough to trap Azriel into some kind of trance. 

And perhaps possessively so, he was grateful not many males were privy to this part of you.

He was watching you now, laying on your front. Bare. Just how he’d left you when he took a moment to freshen up. You were giggling, your legs up and feet fluttering behind you while propped up over something.

“What are you doing, my love?” Azriel purred inquisitively, stepping closer towards the bed.

“Oh…Feyre was just checking in. Asking how much longer we might be,” he could hear you smile when you spoke, and watched as with the brush of your hand the magical parchment and ink disappeared that you’d been conversing with Feyre on.

“It’s not even been that long,”

“We’ve been gone three weeks–”

“And we’ll be gone 300 hundred more,”

You chuckled at his response, “Az, we do need to go back at some point. They need us.”

“I need you more.” There was no negotiating. Your family would be lucky to see you both before the next solstice at this rate.

Not that Azriel needed the frenzy to be satiated by you, but it truly was driving him. The primal need for you, overwhelming. The pair of you only stopped when you both fell into a slumber from exhaustion. And even then, there were many times you found each other in a sleep exhausted haze, tangled within and inside one another again.

The bed dipped either side of your legs, you were still on your front but could feel your mate over you. He had paused though, his eyes falling over your beautiful pink wings. The iridescent skin reflecting lights across the room. He had almost cried when he first saw them after you accepted the bond, mesmerised and overwhelmed by their beauty.

Getting to see this part of you, a part of you that was so private, stirred a gratefulness inside him. But there was something else too, a possessiveness that had slowly been creeping up his mind recently.

In the past three weeks, you had both done every possible maneuver, tried every kind of love making– fucking, screwing, mating. You’d even made him a crumbling wet mess just from playing with his wings. 

But he hadn’t touched yours.

No, they looked so delicate and soft, too beautiful to touch, that he hadn’t dared. 

You felt him situate himself behind you, his warm naked body lightly laying on you, his chest resting on your behind. His arms wormed their way under your hips to get comfy, and you splayed your wings flat against your back to fit him.

“Az?” you asked curiously, glancing slightly over at your shoulder to catch him in your peripheral.

He didn’t respond though, not with words. You felt his soft warm breath blowing on the membrane of your right wing, making your squirm under the touch. Your wing fluttering a little in the air.

“How sensitive are they? Too sensitive for me to touch?” You heard him behind you.

“Hm..” you tilted your head slightly to think, “They’re delicate, but you can touch them. Gently.”

You were waiting for him to wriggle his hand from out beneath you but instead you felt something warm and wet run against the bottom of your wing.

You couldn’t stop the whimper from escaping your lips at the soft touch. Azriel had taken it upon himself to use the tip of his tongue to explore this part of you, a part of you that was still very new to him. He felt you wriggle under him, and he shifted placing his full body weight on you so you couldn’t move.

His tongue traced the ridge of your wing, and he wasn’t letting up. Not when he’d made that sound from you. He wanted more of that. He moved and pressed his tongue flat against the delicate skin, evoking another moan from you.

“Does that feel good my little butterfly?” he purred, you could feel the smirk on his lips against your wing as he pressed a kiss on them.

You wanted to roll your eyes at his teasing, but it felt too good to do anything other than surrender to his touch.

“I want to hear your words,” he spoke a little more assertively this time, before swiping  his tongue along one of the tubular lines that spread like veins across your wings.

“Yes..” You huffed, before another moan slipped past your lips breathlessly. “It feels good Az…” You felt your body heat, your cheeks for sure rosy, grateful your mate could only hear not see the reaction he was having on you. 

He chuckled softly then, the vibrations from his lips skirting across your wings making them twitch.

“My sensitive little butterfly, ” the new nickname only made you squirm more, your core growing slick at his predatory attention.

Azriel moved his hand then, the one caught under your left hip, so effortlessly moving down to your core, cupping your wet slit as he licked the pink shiny membrane again. 

“Azriel…” you gasped, but his touch didn’t relent.

You knew this was only the start.

a/n: just some lovely little fluffy mating frenzyness! I just love these two, so I may expand a little more on the wings universe and their relationship if you guys would like to see that! Maybe some domestic bliss, or if there's any scenes you'd like me to write for them or parts of their story you're interested in then I'm happy to explore. Also this was written fairly quickly, so please ignore any typos, I only did a quick little check hehe - Lottie

p.s. also thanks to @thisiskaylin who inspired the nickname! She commented on the wings fic that butterfly would be the perfect nickname and I just had to use it <3

Forever tags: @sleepylunarwolf @daily-dose-of-sass @milswrites @amberlynn98 @marscardigan @illyrianbitch @lilah-asteria

[kibermonakh]

spark-close hug.

due to the location of the t-cog in Tf:ONE, i think that cybetronian' spark is quite small and is not located in the chest itself, but rather in the solar plexus area... however, because of Soundwave's construction features, his spark is flattened between the inner side of his deck and the outer back panel.

another personal headcanon: sparks, being small part of The Allspark, emit a weak em-field full of peace and "i'm-home" feeling, but usually all bodyframe layers almost completely dump it unless spark chamber is opened. showing your spark to someone is not only an intimate gesture of trust for obvious reasons, but also a gesture of caring, a way to soothe and caress someone. [ sparklings and recently activated cybertronians are often tactile: nothing stops them from snuggling up to someone's chest in search of comfort ]

[sl4sh3rsub]

rz michael myers hcs (nsfw: mdni)

rz michael myers x reader (AFAB, AMAB, FtM, MtF)

warning: a lot here. mikey has a monster cock, insecure + inexperienced michael, he doesn't talk but makes noise + mouths words + grunts syllables sometimes (selectively mute ig?), oral sex (both giving and receiving), excessive creampies, fingering (receiving), no lube we die like men his dick n spit does it for him, masturbation, rimming (both giving and receiving), knife kink, excessive mentions of precum + spit + cum, creative use of cum/arousal fluids in arts projects, musk kink, choking (receiving), mentions of sex toys, thigh humping, mention of canon SA and violence (nothing w/ or directly involving reader), p in v + anal (all unprotected - pls stay safe irl), cum eating, slight somnophilia, bruises and hickeys, cockwarming, slight worship (receiving), dry humping, handjobs, 2 mentions of him having a mini shrine to you, mentions of needle hrt in ftm + mtf bits (feel free to ignore), mentions of the institute/asylum

a/n: sorta edited. tried not to be too ooc, but it's more focused on a softer side of michael - personally i think his character is very different to og/peepaw myers! rz mikey is more based in instinct rather than previous experiences/societal expectations, so there's more general hcs than separate sections this time. NOTE: feel free to read any sections, tried my best to not use gendered terms in agab sections but lmk how i can improve :3

order: general hcs first then amab + afab then ftm + mtf, different sections = different content n tried not to repeat much

_ _ _ _ _

general hcs

as michael is very inexperienced with kissing, he'll smash his lips against yours and become a huffing mess after he gets worked up from your breath mingling with his and your darkening gazes meeting

if you play with his hair and gaze into his eyes, he can't help it if he gets half-hard - his body will always needily react to your attention and affection

he's most at home in grey sweatpants - he's very used to wearing them while making his masks and associates them with comfort and the years of creatively honing his craft

so naturally, don't be surprised when his already impressive girth pulses and thickens at the sight of you bending over or reaching something off a high shelf

mikey will absolutely make you your own special mask!! although, the glue he uses for your personal paper mâché mix is a bit more,, personal. he'll also use your arousal to paint the inner layer of his favourite mask :( he simply needs to have some semblance of you with him at all times, especially whenever he's out on the town and away from your embrace

he's borderline hypersexual and gets half-hard and extremely sensitive without reason, however he doesn't always feel the need to act on his urges with you. expect him hiding his arousal during mundane activities, getting flushed and shy when he realises that you notice :<

if he's comfortable on the couch, he'll make himself at home with a horrendous manspread. naturally, this leads to him getting flustered whenever you kneel in between his legs with a mischievous glint in your eye. if you ask him sweetly, he'll be more than happy to sit you in between his strong thighs and let you hump into his hand while you both watch a movie

if he's not feeling like he wants to be inside you, he'll lie on his back with his knees up, pulling you to straddle his waist and lean back against his thighs. from this angle, he's able to watch you play with yourself and masturbate above him while feeling your weight grounding him, just out of reach but almost close enough to taste

he loves taking you from behind and kissing the base of your neck, your breathless giggles echoing in his ears as his long hair tickles your shoulders and back

michael loves having you cockwarm him while he makes his masks!! he adores it when you doze off with your cheek smushed into his shoulder during a late night arts-and-crafts session, the slow pulse of his heartbeat deep inside you

he's so, so incredibly thankful for you, that he's able to unleash his frustrations into you, whether it be about a ripped mask or just about pentup emotions. he's eternally thankful for your love and under the table support

you are mikey's angel, his true saving grace. after his long bout at the institute, he was fully convinced that being loved by anyone was impossible for him. your welcoming arms and gentle praise proved him wrong and completely changed his image of heaven - to michael, it's no longer a cloudy sky mentioned in those old books, it's your warm embrace and loving gaze. it just took him a little while to realise that he was in his own little paradise with you

he tries his hardest to treat you with absolute reverence and adoration T-T he's devoted to making you feel good with him, no matter what. usually, this means holding back from skullfucking you at a brutal pace whenever you give him head. your throat is just so tight around him :( it's got him steadying himself against a wall with his hand, shaking and sweating from holding back, with his gorgeous, garbled moans encouraging you to swallow the saltiness of his length

mikey's wandering hands always end up on your ass or tummy whenever you cuddle together, it's just comforting for him

he's one of the strongest, largest men to ever walk the earth, but the way he gently traces your facial features makes you forget that completely. michael handles you like you're made of porcelain, only using soft pressure unless you assure him he won't break you easily

he has a big, strong and beefy body. lord knows how he maintained it in the institute but with you, he's gonna try his damnedest to put all of his strength to good use - whether it be getting you off while fingering you, his toned forearms barely breaking a sweat or his tree trunk thighs tensing while you ride them

mikey is not trimmed or well-groomed downstairs, his pubes are a wild and unkempt cloud of blonde and light grey hair, so you know he's not caring about how you look at all. you're a fuckin deity in his eyes and he'll dispose of anyone who makes you feel anything other than heavenly

michael is uncut, big and thick, with a large vein running up the underside - so heavy and large that it can't even stand up against his belly, instead slightly bobbing with his pulse and hanging low. it's the type you see in lewd magazines, where it tilts down even when fully hard

when you're on your knees for him, expect his weepy cockhead to drip onto your face while you kiss and nip at his heavy, full balls

oh yeah, this man has the definition of breeder balls; hanging low, swollen and filled to the brim with his potent cum. he truly has so much to give, so you'd better be ready for multiple loads throughout the night

in contrast to michael's hard cock, his nipples are soft and incredibly sensitive. if he's trying to cum as fast as possible, he'll sneak a hand up his shirt and pinch at them relentlessly - make sure they're puffy and spit-glazed after you've been ontop, he goes absolutely feral would really appreciate it

mikey has massive hands too - his fingers are enough to fill you considerably, but he often resorts to stuffing your mouth with them or using his palm to muffle your noises if you're being vocal. he definitely doesn't want the cops called on you just because he's great at pleasuring you

his cock feels heavy inside you, almost like he's deep in your chest whenever he bottoms out. the weight is absolutely dizzying as it stretches you out each thrust and rubs all of the right places. he easily gets drunk on the feeling of you clenching around him, leading to his head being tossed back with drool dribbling down his chin at the sensation

he has the biggest size kink possible but he really doesn't want to get carried away when exerting his strength and size on you - he doesn't want to get carried away or hurt you too badly :(

michael uses whatever knife he can get his hands on during foreplay to add a bit of risk and edge. cutting off your underwear and shirt, tracing down thighs and hips and gently nicking your skin every once in a while, but he quickly tosses it if you beg him to fuck you desperately enough - he doesn't wanna hurt you that bad, not before he's even gotten started

mikey is incredibly insecure about himself and his own worth as a person. he fears your love is only temporary and that you'll move on, leaving him behind as a memory or an adrenaline rush of foolish regret :( for that reason, he's terrified to go too hard or hurt you badly - he's convinced you'll be in pain and be fearful of him if he fucks up. be sure to reassure him when you're together after you have a rougher time and he's manhandling you more <3

initially when he learnt about dry humping, he was confused as to why he craved the friction so desperately but he's learnt to give in - michael will almost immediately cum in his pants if you quietly reassure him you'll clean up the mess you're both bound to leave on his clothes. half the fun (in his eyes, at least) is seeing you get flustered over the sheer amount of his load that's seeping into his boxers from just that little bit of friction

his favourite place to have you is on his lap - cockwarming, cuddling or napping, he does not care. he needs to have your face pressed into his neck with his larger frame providing you with warmth and stability

will rarely fist his cock but if you ever catch him, you might be able to make out his lips repeating the shape of your name over and over

for a long while at the start of your.. arrangement, he had no idea how to initiate sex. he'd just hover close to you, desperately hoping you'd notice the heat radiating from his massive, obvious bulge. would start to bite the inside of his cheek and guide your body towards him in a desperate hint if you didn't clock it immediately

he also did not know shit about the human anatomy, so he'll need you to guide him to where you want to be touched and with a bit of coaching, he'll learn the correct pressure and pace to get you off easily

if you tease him while he's in his overalls, the sight of his lower region slowly darkening with his endless pre and the sound of his haggard breathing devolving into animalistic grunts is nearly enough to make your knees give out

michael isn't a massive fan of fucking you on your bed, especially if your room is in a similar layout to his back at the institute. haunting memories brought on by the guards cast negative clouds across his mind and that is the last thing he wants with you. he'd much prefer to go at it against a wall, the couch or even the floor. most of the time, around his desk is where the action happens and your bed is solely reserved for sleep <3

he loves smearing his precum all over your face, loves letting his musk seep into your skin while your eyes glaze over with lust

he cups your chin, cheek and jaw whenever you have his full attention and his heart melts when you nuzzle into him - his thumb plays with your bottom lip and if you decide to suck on it to keep your mouth occupied, so expect to have mikey silently begging you to cockwarm him while his brain goes fuzzy

while you relax for the evening, watching a movie together, expect him to position you with your head on his thigh (your face way to close to his crotch ofc)

michael loves you sucking on his soft cock and warming him with your mouth, he adores the slow feeling of him growing hard as you moan and gag around his length

when you introduce him to the concept of the sixty-nine position, he absolutely short-circuits. what do you mean you can both suffocate in each other's musk while getting each other off?? what do you mean he can prop himself up above you so he can spend time teasing you while forcing you to choke on his length???

michael always cums a bit too quickly and a bit too much - the moment he enters you for the first time, he can't help but fill you up immediately (good thing he's blessed with inhuman stamina)

he's also the biggest fan of you offering to clean up the mess of his cum dripping down his shaft - if your ass is a bit tender and sore from his rough pace, he's more than happy to soften in your mouth while the two of you catch your breath and wind down

mikey isn't very confident with toys and would much rather pleasure you by himself, but he wouldn't mind learning slowly what you prefer over time

he's also not a fan of lube - it feels too cold on his skin and the slippery nature of it scares him a little, so the best way to get him all coated in pre (for your comfort ofc) is to rim him. his tip drools and spits out so much of his arousal whenever you fuck him with your tongue, rest assured it'll bubble down his shaft and drip onto your chest. the delicious flush of his neck and upper chest is a glorious sight to behold

he first feels the urge to make love to you slowly after he sees a steamy, romantic sex scene with a married couple on television - he wants to give you the warmth and care the actors portray on screen

when you first offered to give him head, he tentatively slapped his cock against your tongue to test waters and see if you liked the taste but ended up addicted to the feeling. he'll smack it against your lips and tongue every time you're on your knees for him

his heavy balls slapping against your chin while he floods your mouth with salty, thick warmth is one of his favourite sounds

he starts breathily whimpering in his gravelly voice whenever he fully bottoms out in your heat, one of the rare moments when he totally loses control over his lust for you

he grunts out the syllables of your name when he's about to cum, digging his fingers into your hips and nipping your neck, leaving deep marks on your skin

mikey gets the same rush whenever you both cum together as to when he stabs someone and kills them after a long game of cat and mouse - there's a reason why the french call it 'petit mortis', a little death

the first time the two of you had sex, it brought out such intense emotions from michael that he was left shaken, crying from confusion about the onslaught of feelings he just shared with you. he is originally torn between holding you close and never letting you go as well as instantly leaving and isolating himself in his own space - like he's used to. he needs time to fully mull over the situation and new sensations he experienced but he would really like to have you nearby incase he needs a hug :(

on a long day, after you've given him head, he'll softly catch his breath while watching you blissfully hum and rest your cheek against his thigh. he huffs a small chuckle as you press light kisses into his softening cock

myers really doesn't want to hurt your ass or bruise your upper thighs too much as he needs to have you perched on his lap whenever he can, but you can expect tender skin from his hips slapping into you as well as bruises from his grip on your waist and hips

if he was too rough with you the night before (maybe accidentally leaving bone-deep bruises or purple marks and scratches along your body), he'll disappear early next morning and return during breakfast with a fistful of fresh tulips as an apology, with their stems partially crushed. just be sure to rinse off the dirt still attached to the roots, it's the thought that counts :<

michael may be inexperienced and bashful but he'll try anything once if it gets you off and brings you pleasure

michael loves to place his hand around your throat, just as a reminder of his sheer strength and power over you. with the slightest amount of pressure, he could make your brain go dumb and your tongue loll out

he chokes you until your eyes become unfocused, your little gasps and whines becoming softer and softer. the proud glint in michael's eyes is deserved, as you fully trusted him with your life while you were in your most vulnerable position. he holds you close while you unsteadily catch your breath, mumbling about how good you are to him and stroking your hair all the while

if you're too shy to look up at him while he fucks you or gives you head, he'll tilt your chin up and groan when your cheeks flush at his blown out pupils

he's the type to not pull out after, needing to soften and catch his breath while still feeling connected, inadvertently overstimulating you without fail as his whole body is racked with aftershocks

if he's feeling mean, michael will make you hump his thigh while he palms at his dick during one of his arts and crafts sessions

he wipes the last dribbles of his cum on your inner thighs after he pulls out. he'll clean it either way - with a damp towel or his tongue, it's up to you <3

occasionally after a spree, he'll need to let his mind rest and will use you as his cute little fleshlight, burying himself deep inside you while guiding your hips along with his rhythm at a bruising pace. if you pay close attention, you'll see his lips forming silent prayers and whispers of apology whenever you yelp from the pace

his post-kill musk is potent enough to make your head spin. if you rest your cheek against his pectoral, you'll be able to feel his heartbeat start to slow against you :<

his guilty pleasure is pulling out while cumming thick spurts, slapping his tip across your skin while smearing his load all over you, be it your lips and cheeks or ass and thighs

michael doesn't want to disturb your sleep if he's needy, so he'll slip your hand in between his boxers and pajama pants to feel your smaller hand against his throbbing bulge. he's content to doze like that but expect to feel him humping into your fist while he sleeps. you may wake to the sound of sheets rustling as he licks up the mess he made, much too tired to change sheets but not wanting it to dry and soil your sheets

he insists on placing his hand firmly on the back of your neck whenever he takes you from behind - to stop you from fucking yourself back on his cock and squirming at his pace

after sex with mikey, it's a common occurrence for you both to be a panting mess on the floor when he's done, your throat sore from mindless babbling and loud moans - all complete with a wet, drool-covered spot on your shirt from his grunts through gritted, gnashed teeth. when he's floated back into the right headspace, he's absolutely mortified by his behaviour and is tentative to even glance at you in a less than innocent way for the next couple hours

if your soft body goes limp in his arms after a mind-blowing orgasm, he gets scared at first and stops his thrusts. he's worrying he hurt you but, once he realises you're alright, he'll support your head and neck and go completely feral, thrusting and grinding until he reaches his high as well

whenever you fall asleep ontop of him, he needs to have your face tucked into the crook of his neck - the scent of your hair and sex in the air lulls him to sleep quicker than any sedative could

he adores your attention while you both bask in your respective afterglows - your hands gently cradling his face while he tucks himself away is one of his favourite, most soothing actions of yours. he'll always rub circles into your skin in return

_ _ _ _ _

amab hcs

michael is inexperienced and completely driven by instinct when it comes to giving head - he wouldn't be deep-throating, instead focusing on your tip and licking along your veins. he's a master of giving handjobs, with the amount of spit he shamelessly coats you with (not to mention his rougher hands)

if he's particularly needy, he'll come up behind you and gently undo your belt while tracing his fingers over your zipper, nosing at your jaw and softly rutting into your ass while panting above you

the moment your fly is undone, his breathing gets ragged and drool nearly starts dripping down his chin

cages you against a bench or wall to rut against your ass and breathe in your scent after a long day at work

if you introduce him to rimming,, lord save your soul. his scruff rubs your ass raw with how often he goes to town on your tight, puckered hole. his favourite bit is pulling back and admiring how you glint in the light with his spit shining all over

of course, the extra spit only helps his efforts of bullying his throbbing cock into your poor hole

whenever michael is close to the edge while buried deep in you, he starts uncontrollably twitching and bumping your prostate, causing you to let out a pitchy whine at the unexpected feeling. every time without a doubt, his eyes roll back and growls into your ear at you clenching around him

he has a small photo shrine of your cocks together, a mess of cum and spit framed for his appreciation (he's a romantic)

his dirty fantasy is getting your attention while you're on the phone in bed by mouthing and groping at your cock, working you through the fabric of your pants

michael is obsessed with rutting his cock against yours, covering each other in your arousals, cum spurting up onto your chests as you nip and kiss at each other's chest and throat

_ _ _ _ _

afab hcs

mikey loses his mind a little each time you cream on his shaft, feeling your arousal dripping down to his balls and coating the insides of his thighs. just the thought of your slick coating him is enough to make his eyes roll back

he rips or cuts your underwear off you if he's too impatient to wait for you to fully undress

once michael is fully stuffed inside you, he gently traces where you meet, in awe of how he manages to fit in your heat

his large hands span over the bulge of his cock in your tummy, making you tear up at the pressure and drip onto the sheets

leans his head closer to your ear just to make sure you hear his groans and grunts while he destroys your pussy

his favourite sight is his pearly globs of cum oozing out of your puffy, soaked hole - made complete by the fucked out glaze in your eyes as you stare at the blurry spectre of a giant between your thighs

he tentatively gropes your thighs and enjoys warming his hands by sticking them up your shirt. if you both happen to make an appearance in public, expect him to crowd around you to try and shield you form from wandering eyes - he may be yours but you're also his, so no one has a right to touch or even look at your precious body (especially not your soft tits or ass, they're for him only)

teach him to tie his hair in a messy bun or acquire a hairband for him to keep his hair from getting sticky whenever he does down on you, slurping and worshipping your pussy like it's his god-given purpose on this earth

once he tries taking you in a mating press, he accidentally discovers heaven. he can fully dwarf you in his shadow and also cradle your pretty face while erratically thrusting and groaning in that raspy voice you love. if he fucks you dumb, he's more than happy to wipe away your tears

sometimes michael hesitates pushing into you for fear of it hurting too much, unintentionally resulting in him working you up by teasing your entrance with his thick cockhead then nudging your clit, fully soaking his length in your arousal

_ _ _ _ _

ftm hcs

mikey initially gets scared if you administer hrt yourself with a needle - he knows what happens to rowdy patients who get the needle back at the asylum. however, as he slowly notices physical changes in your body, he'll marvel at your form developing before his very eyes

michael's sadistic side comes out when he spanks your cock until your sloppy boycunt is drooling onto the mattress. he makes sure to gently slip his finger in your hole every so often, his delight in your whines is very evident when you can feel him throbbing under you

his strong forearms easily hold down your hips to stop them from rutting into his mouth whenever he sucks you off, making you shiver with every thrust of his tongue. his dick is neglected while he goes to town, not that mikey minds at all. he knows he'll be able to go balls deep after you've cum at least once to loosen up for him

due to his strength, he'll keep you still even while you become overstimulated, the pleasure bordering on pain but he's too far gone to care - this man becomes so pussydrunk that he can barely process that he's stained all of the material in your immediate vicinity with your arousal; your pants, his shirt, the carpet and not to mention the couch or bedsheets from his erratic wiping of his fingers when they get too slippery

loves to have you bouncing on his cock - grabbing your hips until they're bruised to control the pace and depth, pushing you to take all of him inside

sometimes if you look extra delectable while attempting to reach something off of a high shelf, michael may not be able to control himself and his craving for your taste - he will bend you over with no hesitation and make out with your cunt, nose glistening in your folds as his chapped lips graze against your tdick and his chin dripping with your pre. his massive hands groping your ass as he spreads your legs for better access

the rhythmic clapping of his heavy balls slapping your sopping cock is forever engrained in his mind, sometimes resurfacing at the most inconvenient times - he will be forced to rush home in the middle of an attempted spree just to feel your body against his

_ _ _ _ _

mtf hcs

mikey initially gets scared if you administer hrt yourself with a needle - he knows what happens to rowdy patients who get the needle back at the asylum. however, as he slowly notices physical changes in your body, he'll marvel at your form developing before his very eyes

michael chases the sensation of having you pressed up against him while you're wearing clothing he's gotten you

he loves you feeling pretty whenever you're on top, tucking your hair behind your ear and using his thumb to swipe his cum off your chin

he will make you do your makeup before you fuck, needing you to feel as beautiful as possible while he absolutely destroys your hole - lipgloss smeared, mascara running, hair mussed and bruises all over your hips. he views you as a goddess, so expect him to make you feel like one

when you guide him to take your balls in his mouth, he'll eagerly suckle on them then return to your tip for his reward, eager to lap up your arousal with obscene slurping noises and proud huffs of satisfaction

he has a small shrine of your panties he's borrowed, keeping the ones with the dainty floral details for 'creative inspiration'

mikey gently squeezes on the back of your neck when preparing to take you from behind - he cannot simply cum from you squirming in impatience and grinding into him, he's not even inside you yet (it would be a waste quite frankly)

as his stubble rubs you raw whenever he eats you out, prepare for the bubbling heat beneath your skin to return tenfold whenever he fucks your thighs like a madman

_ _ _ _ _

sorry if writing quality dropped, this took so long lmao. art the clown is next btw, look out for that.

thanks for reading. lmk if you liked it. if i got anything wrong, don't hesitate to tell me.

stay safe.

[sp4ceboo]

Within the Storms of Giedi Prime: Feyd-Rautha x Reader

A/N: the long awaited part two of upon the sands of the arena is hereeee

tw: 18+, smut (more than last time hehehe), p in v, swearing, Feels™, death, assassination, use of the Voice (not on feyd), less violence but still violence, i lack faith in my sequel writing abilities, blowjobs, SUB FEYDDDD, also DOM FEYDDD, sex Outside, lightning and thunder (it says storms in the title what do you expect)

wc: 4.2k

part 1

Giedi Prime is a miserable planet.

It’s evident in the choking, black smog from the factories in the dense air fused with the anguished cries of overworked slaves and the distant rumble of the still active volcanos. You’re near the Harkonnen’s palace grounds - you’re heading towards them, actually, and the promise of a… pleasant night; to your left, you can just about glimpse the looming silhouette of the great arena, squatting like a hulking beast on the horizon, waiting to swallow any poor soul that gets too close to its gaping maw.

Tonight, roiling storm clouds reign the sky, sending sheets of furious rain pounding down upon anyone who dares to be out at this hour - including you. Harsh bolts of lightning spear down, hurtling towards the ground like incensed, condensed moonlight and casting freakish shadows.

Moonlight: the colour of Feyd’s skin. If it weren’t for him, you’d already be off this sorry planet - alas, you must stay a little longer, your body already a little warm at the memory of his skilled fingers and scorching gaze. You haven’t been back since the encounter with the na-Baron in the arena months ago, and you can’t help but feel the sting of doubt in your chest, wondering if he’ll still want a second time, or if you’ll sneak into his room only to find yourself replaced by a concubine.

Not that you occupy significance to him anyway, you remind yourself. Feyd-Rautha could not replace you, because there would be nothing to replace, just ashes of a once bright fire.

Irked by the weakness of your own mind, you pull the hood of your cloak lower over your face, tightening it across your shoulders. The hem is sullied by browning blood: you disposed of your quarry just this morning, and delivered the decapitated head during the early afternoon.

Conveniently, the Bene Gesserit have left you alone for now, most likely tangled in the politics regarding the Kwisatz Haderach while trying to predict the next movement of Jessica Atreides - word is that she has burrowed her way deeper into the desert, surrounding herself and her son with the more fanatic of the Fremen as she bides her time, ready for her next strike.

It means that you’ve been granted enough time to establish yourself as a bounty hunter. For a highly trained Bene Gesserit, the work is easy, and earns you coin a plenty while keeping you on the move and as in shape as assassinating sloppy idiots attempting to run from debt and petty disagreements can.

Slipping through the palace’s perimeter proves easy enough. You use the Voice on a few guards, preferring it to cutting their throats: instructing them to keep quiet and forget you passed by causes much less of a commotion. The scaling of the ramparts that make up the circumference of the inner palace is the most challenging, due to the stone being slick with moss and rain - your fingers dig into the cracks between the weathered blocks of stone, the wind snapping and tugging at your cloak, fiercer now that you’re higher up.

There’s a narrow battlement ringing one side of Feyd’s room. You land on it silently, padding over to the window sill; curtains made of heavy black fabric layered on a dark, wispy privacy layer shroud most of your view of him. His pale skin is almost luminescent under the jagged flashes of lightning bathing his quarters, the blanket having slipped half off him during the night. He lies with his bare back facing you, although it’s hardly a vulnerability - you doubt anyone would be able to creep up on him easily enough to bury a knife into his exposed back without him tearing their throat out first.

Apart from you - hopefully.

Carefully, you ease the window open. A frigid gust of air rushes in as you climb through, and you witness the exact moment that Feyd awakens and becomes aware of your presence; imperceptibly, the muscles in his back ripple before he settles again - you posticipate the feel of them under your palms, hard, lean, perfect for sinking your nails into.

A thrill rushes through you at the sight of him, a sort of wondrous feeling, keen as a knife and just as cutting. You want him all over you, you want him to consume you until all you can remember is him and his smouldering eyes and sensuous touch.

Shrugging off your cloak, you let it pool to the floor around your feet before toeing off your shoes too; breath caught in your throat, you steal over to his bedside, your hand ghosting over the solid curve of his shoulder blade before you grip his shoulder, turning him so his back is flat against the mattress and straddling him in one fluid motion.

The cold kiss of metal meets your neck.

You almost moan at the look on his face. His lips are pulled back in a snarl, his eyes wild, frenzied almost, glittering with the same danger as before. Running your hands up his hard, sculpted chest, you smirk down at him, watching as ever so slowly, his gelid gaze defrosts with recognition, the ice giving way to those all encompassing flames, flames that you surrender to unequivocally.

"I wouldn’t do that if I were you," you murmur, fingers circling his wrist.

Feyd blinks, watching you as if he’s going to eat you as always. Slowly, the hand not wielding the knife roams waywardly down your spine, grabs a harsh fistful of your ass and lingers before gliding upwards and settling on your waist. He huffs, an abrupt, amused sound, but you don’t miss the way he greedily drinks up your figure with his eyes.

"I thought I scared you away, little witch. Presumably, it was not too much for you?"

"For me?" You muse. "We’ll see."

Knocking the blade from his hand, you ignore the screeching noise it makes as it skitters across the stone floor, instead enjoying the subtle inhale, loaded with expectancy, that Feyd takes as you lean in close to him. You hover above him for a prolonged moment, arms boxing him in, before he lurches upwards, connecting your lips with his.

A growl sounds at the back of his throat when he tastes you, licking into your mouth as his fingers press at the small of your back, bringing your lower body to meet his. Rolling his hips against yours, he tangles his fingers in your hair; you feel giddy with the feel of him against you, solid and warm and wanting, so real beneath you, so fucking insatiable.

You can’t get enough of him.

Slowly, you pull away, ablaze with the ravening craving in his eyes. The muscles in his well shaped chest flex as he tips his face up, following your lips, and you smile disarmingly at him, hooking your fingers in the waistband of his trousers and pulling them down.

Taking his chin in your palm, you tilt his head so you can look him in the eyes before swiping your thumb over his lower lip, savouring the way he’s putty in your hands: a man destined to be the Baron of one of the most influential, powerful Houses in the Imperium, a lethal, strikingly skilled warrior, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, humbled by your touch.

"Let me taste you," you breathe - it’s almost a command.

"Please," he chokes out, imploring you with his eyes.

Laughing, you press a hand to his sternum and push. He sinks back into the mattress, compliant, and you trail your lips down his neck and sternum, leaving hickeys in your wake. You're seized by the need to make him shake and beg and cry; you want to devour him.

Dragging your nails cruelly down his thighs, branding him with livid red scratches, you tilt your head to the side, a smile playing upon your lips as you listen to the groan that leaves him, the pricks of pain setting him alight with longing. There’s a devout look in his eyes - a fervent, zealous sort of lust that stirs within you with the impulse to make him forget his own name.

Curling your fingers around his hard length and giving him a few pumps, you watch him under your lashes, something akin to a power rush spinning your head around and around. Feyd is wonderfully sensitive, and a sneer pulls at your lips when his fingers scramble for purchase, fisting in his silky sheets as you press a chaste, loitering kiss to his cock head - a pearl of jet precum sits at the apex of it, dark against its rosy, delicate flush.

Dipping your hand into your pants, you collect your slick on your fingers and use it to jerk him - when you glance up, his pupils are blown wide; lips parted, he stares at you, transfixed.

Eyes locked on his, you take him in your mouth: his thighs tighten, every muscle taut as you run your tongue along the veins wrapped around the underside of his cock. His head tips back, displaying the strong lines of his neck as you hollow your cheeks, rubbing your thighs together to ease the increasing ache between them. Jaw slack, you gag when he hits the back of your throat, and he growls at the sight of your hungry eyes growing watery.

You toy with him, teasing him with your tongue and grazing your teeth lightly over his length until he’s gasping your name; the way the syllables leave his tongue is almost pleading, his chest heaving and covered in a sheen of sweat, his thighs shuddering, wracked with tremors.

It’s evident that he’s close, the voracity in his eyes so hot that it melts your bones, sending heat pooling in your core - you’re going to let him wreck your cunt after this; ruin you for any other man. Trembling, his pale fingers hover near your head, splaying over the expanse of your shoulder, his eyes fucking begging for permission, so you pull off him, laughing as his hips jolt forward at the loss, his cock twitching when your fingertips graze his balls.

"Go on, Feyd," you coax. "Do as you wish."

A tender, honeyed noise rips from low in his chest, almost a whimper, a sound you know no one has extracted from him before. It’s the only warning before he fists his hand in your hair, hips bucking as he fucks into your mouth, his eyes rolling back as you gag around him, the debased moan that escapes you sending vibrations down his cock.

You almost black out when he comes down your throat. You’re not sure if it’s the lack of air reaching your lungs or the sweet pain of Feyd’s hand yanking at your hair, but you’re sure that you’ve never taken so much pleasure in someone else’s release. Slowly, you sit up, moving to lie beside Feyd, and he smiles dumbly at you, maybe a little fucked out as he leans in to kiss you, sighing as he tastes his own come on your tongue.

"I could spend hours exploring you, my little witch," he says, pressing his lips to your jaw.

Feyd flips you over with only an echo of ferocity from your previous fight, disrobing you and gripping your thighs, spreading them. Your hands find his shoulders, his back, your fingers resting in the dips of muscle there, trailing down the length of his spine as his own find your slick, yearning cunt.

Outside, the storm blows harder, rain pounding down upon the planet’s surface in sheets, lightning lancing through the thick billows of clouds; it is during one of these strikes that you glimpse that Feyd’s eyes are not as dark as they seem, but the colour of glaciers and blue fire. Within them, just beneath the keenness of his electric gaze, lurks something else - something that makes you hesitate. He senses it immediately, fingers pausing their movement, so you fit your lips to his.

You kiss him to avoid the emotions roiling in his stormy eyes.

He responds immediately, and you easily dismiss the thoughts clouding your mind; he barely knows you, there’s no room for the feelings you just saw in his gaze. You seek his body, not his soul, and it is the same both ways.

"Fuck me," you mumble against his lips.

All coherent sentences leave your mind when he flips you over again, this time with your stomach pressed to his bedsheets as he kneels on the mattress behind you.

"Ass up, my little witch," he commands.

Something within you goes molten at the sound of his voice. You can feel his gaze straying all over your skin, greedy, so you tuck your knees beneath you and arch your back, biting down on your lower lip as his palm presses against your lower vertebrae. He chuckles; it warms your bones.

"You’re so filthy, little witch, displaying yourself for me."

Bolts of ecstasy shoot through you as Feyd slides his cock head through your folds, his broad hands gripping your hips so tightly that you’ll be left with bruises. Your breath is punched from your lungs when he sinks himself inside you, balls deep, white hot pleasure rocketing down your spine - it tears a wretched cry from you, more so when he starts a brutal, near sadistic pace, the angle destroying you with vicious bliss.

The drag of his searing, velvet cock on your walls makes your toes curl. You think your body might shatter into a million pieces, the way he plucks the euphoria from it so agonisingly, so beautifully. One of his hands finds its way between your thighs, his thumb rolling endlessly over your clit; you find yourself teetering on the edge, suspended there a moment before you fall.

The way your cunt convulses around his cock as you come doesn’t stop Feyd. Unforgiving, he ploughs into you, his fingers still working on your clit, not breaking his rhythm even as you writhe beneath him, trying to jerk your hips away from his to no avail. It’s too much, the pleasure melting delectably into pain and still he can’t stop, won’t stop, his low snarl a warning in your ear as he pins you to the mattress with a hand between your shoulder blades, leaving you helpless to do nothing but take him.

Tears well up in your eyes, soaking into the sheets beneath you as he rails into you, his fingers speeding up on your clit until you’re begging him, tremors shooting through you from the aftershocks of your orgasm. His grip on your hips is unrelenting, and you sob as his pace increases, the savage friction sending you over again.

For the second time, you come hard around him, pussy clenching and fluttering, ragged cries wracking your body. This time, you bring Feyd with you, the sound he makes sharp and almost pained. He pulls out, and you mewl at the sharp tug of friction, panting as he comes on your back and ass, claiming you with his dark seed.

Breathless, he sits back on his heels as you straighten your legs until you lie full stretch, revelling in the post orgasmic rapture. Dimly, you hear his footsteps on the stone floor, but you pay them no mind, instead letting your eyelids droop as you rest your chin in the crook of your elbow.

Gentle hands encircle your ankles, carefully opening your legs. A second later, you feel a warm cloth at the apex of your thighs, and you whine, flinching away from the overstimulation. You hear Feyd’s chuckle, and the comforting sweep of his thumb against your skin as he cleans you up, pressing soft, open mouthed kisses on your back as he does; barely a moment after, the mattress dips, and strong arms pull you into a warm chest.

"How are you, my little witch?"

You hum in response, not wanting to use words. Something niggles at your brain, even through the haze of pleasure. It’s got to do with the na-Baron’s gentleness after he fucks you; it unsettles you, the sweetness of him, and now these words, as if you’re a lover, and not… whatever this is.

One of his wide palms runs up and down your ribs, and you shove those thoughts to the side, instead enjoying his touch, the way your body fits into his, his chest pressed against your front as he traces patterns on your skin with his deft fingers; his lips brushing the nape of your neck, leaving soft kisses there. You find yourself curling away from him a little - his hands on you make something deep in your chest stir to life, something that shouldn’t be there. It’s -

A blinding flash of lightning, followed by the deep, throaty growl of thunder illuminates the room. You’re facing the door: in the crack between its solid masonry and the floor, you glimpse a shadow.

Hastily, you turn, one hand meeting Feyd’s chest, fingers falling into the dip his collarbone makes as you search his eyes, urgent. He stares back at you, not quite guarded, but not quite open any more, and you’re filled with the urge to protect.

"Give me your knife," you hiss.

He sits up halfway. "What’s - "

You push him back down, glaring at his resistance. You can sense the change in the air, hear the subtle scrape of someone’s boot across the stone floor and the swish of clothing behind the door - or maybe it’s just the building storm outside, the escalating charge in the sky as another bolt of lightning is generated.

"Feyd. Give me your knife."

Eyes quizzical, he produces it from somewhere behind him, handing it to you hilt first. It’s just in time, because the door swings open, a masked figure silhouetted there. You whirl around, covering Feyd’s body with your own.

They’re holding a knife.

It doesn’t take you a moment longer to send your knife hurtling towards them. The blade seethes through the air before embedding itself with a thunk into the assassin’s shoulder, and as they drop to the floor, you’re up in another second, poised in case there’s another. A flash of movement catches your eye - the dropped knife, retrieved and held in blood soaked fingers.

"Stand down," you snap.

The Voice echoes through the room, and you pluck the knife out of the now frozen assassin’s grasp and slit his throat. Turning, you see the glimmer of amusement and awe in Feyd’s eyes; assassination attempts probably occur often, an estranged Bene Gesserit using the Voice in his room less so.

"So many people seem eager to sneak into my bed chamber tonight," he remarks. "Although I must admit I preferred the first one."

You laugh, collecting your clothes off the floor. "I’m glad."

As you pull on your trousers, followed closely by your shirt, Feyd gets up, and you’re struck by the slow manner in which he approaches you, so much like the way he prowled towards you in the arena, but this time his eyes concerningly soft, his deadly, killing machine of a body marked with hickeys and love bites.

"Why do you always rush to leave so fast, my little witch?"

"I - I have places to be," you stammer.

He tilts his head. "At this hour of the night?"

"...Yes."

Feyd takes one step closer, close enough to kiss. "What are you afraid of?"

You back towards the window. "I fear nothing."

"Don’t lie to me," he warns. "I can see it in your eyes."

Shaking your head, panic rising in your throat, you turn, the glass chilly on your fingers as you open the window. Feyd catches your other hand, but you whirl around and lash out, a blow to the face followed by a blow to the legs, and he staggers backwards, giving you enough time to slip out of the window and onto the battlements.

Outside, the storm has whipped up, the howling wind tearing at your hood and blowing it off, the rain immediately pouring down to soak your hair, sting your eyes, wet your face. You need to run, you need to get away from him, but the weak part of you - the part that you fear - slows your strides, tugging at you as if it’s tied to Feyd somehow.

He catches up to you easily enough.

Of course he does, he is Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, and he is inexplicably bound to your soul in a way you cannot describe, in a way that terrifies you, shakes you to your very core. He catches your with a hand around your upper arm and presses you to his chest, your treacherous body reacting to him the way it always has as he stares down at you with those burning, icy eyes, droplets of rain running in rivulets down the moonlight planes of his chest.

Unease tears through you. You see it in his eyes, that he feels it too, and you dread the way it does not disquiet him. Your soul feels like it’s slowly rending in two - you need to get away from him, from the unguarded way he regards you, dedication clear in his unwavering gaze, but all the same, you need to remain with his arms trapping you to him, in the bewildering magnetism of his psyche.

"Tell me what you fear, my little witch."

You answer through clenched teeth. "I am not yours."

"You evade my question."

You stare at Feyd, confounded. This man before you is the same man that you duelled in the arena, yet he is different; there is a certainty in his eyes, an acceptance that you yourself flee from. You’re drawn to him, even as the instincts that have kept your hollow heart intact all these years squall for you to break loose - and yet you fear that too, the evasion, because you know that if you run now, a part of you will be lost, snapped under the tension.

"What do you - "

You cut Feyd off. "Do you know what I fear, Harkonnen? I fear the look in your eyes, because it’s not just desire any more. You do not seek me in order that I inflict pain and pleasure alike upon you, you seek something else. I fear the look in your eyes because it is the same feeling that rises traitorously in my chest when I look at you, and it terrifies me."

He’s silent.

You grab his shoulder. "Tell me you feel nothing, Feyd. Tell me you crave me for the thrill of adrenaline and the feel of my body - tell me and do not lie."

His eyes bore into yours. "I cannot."

"Exactly."

You wrest yourself from his grasp, turning and striding down the battlements. A strange feeling overtakes you, a prickle behind your eyes and a lump in your throat, an aching tug at your heart which you stalwartly ignore. It is over - you’re done. He made it harder than it ever had to be, but you’re going now.

He grabs your hand. "You cannot either, my little witch."

Struggling, you snarl at him, clawing at your chest, but he pins you to the wall, his eyes aflame, searing, calling to something in you that rises up to meet him. This time, it is too strong; you cannot push it down, a part of you not even wanting to. You can feel Feyd all over you, your senses overwhelmed by him, by the way he presses his forehead to yours, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"You do not have to fear it," he whispers. "Just let go. You’re holding on too tight."

He dips his head, claiming your lips. You give in, yield to it, let it wash over you and carry you away on its blissful waves, your heart swelling in your chest at the way he touches you, tenderly, as if you’re the most precious thing he’s ever laid his eyes upon; this is not Feyd, but this is him, irrefutably so.

You think this might be love.

It is a wild, white hot blade in your heart that twists, beauteous, enthralling. You believed that it would weaken you, shackle you, but you blaze with the glorious flare of it, the kiss of Feyd’s hips against yours stoking it further. Truly, it is magnificent.

In the only way you know how, you show him. It’s cataclysmic, the way you’re pulled to him like a comet caught in a planet’s gravity, streaking towards him, fated to collide, your hands roving over him, his over you, the taste of rain blooming on your tongue as you bite down on his shoulder, muffling a moan as he ekes sweet, tender pleasure from you. Your head tips back against the stone, eyes raised to the weeping sky, your lips parted as he fills you with his cock.

Feyd looks at you as if you are a goddess. He worships you, cradles you in his arms, anchoring you, grounding you. You do not know where he ends and you begin, nor do you want to know; you wish for your souls to meld, you wish for the two of you to be alone in the universe, unbothered by time or fate or anything.

"You are mine, little witch," he intones against your rain soaked skin. "I am yours."

[aliesbienish]

A study of wolves

Paul Lahote x Reader

Part two (part one here)

“It’s lovely to meet you all, and thank you for being so welcoming.”

Paul’s mind was racing a hundred miles a minute. Here you were, the supposed perfect woman for him. And he never had wanted this. He had deemed imprinting as an anchor. Another knock to his freedom. Yet even the idea of walking away seemed to make him physically sick.

Paul caught Sam’s questioning gaze and gave a quick shake of his head. He may not be able to walk away but her certainly wasn’t ready to bare his soul to this virtual stranger, however her smile made him feel.

“So [y/n], what’s first for the study,” Emily questioned, breaking the silence that had fallen over the group.

“The wolf population in the area isn’t well documented, so first thing will be exploring the area and trying to find signs of their territory. From there I can set up motion activated cameras to try to work population and observe behaviours,”

“Oh, we weren’t aware of cameras, how exactly do the work?” Sam almost sounded a little nervous.

“I’ll set them up facing areas that look like frequented wolf paths. They’ll then capture photos and videos whenever they detect significant motion, including during the evening. Obviously they’ll be a lot of other animals or even false shots due to the wind but hopefully we’ll see some gray wolves.”

“Will you let us know where they’ll be set up so we don’t disturb them?”

“Don’t stress too much, they’ll likely be far away from the village so I doubt you’ll come into contact with them. But I can definitely let you know the coordinates, and I’m sure one of you guys will be with me when I set them up otherwise I’ll never find my way back.”

“Coordinates would be great. You mentioned starting heading out of Monday, is that still the case?” Emily questioned.

“Absolutely. Sam agreed to be my guide for the day so all going well no rescue team will be needed,”

“Actually [y/n] I completely forgot that I have other work to do Monday, but Paul here has agreed to be your guide. Isn’t that right Paul?”

You looked up to the man beside you and caught him shaking his head at Sam. Noticing you caught him it was quickly changed to a nod paired with a guilty smile.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Monday came around quickly. Your first two days were spent unpacking your relatively few belongings and exploring the small reservation town. You’d need to head into the nearby town of Forks soon to stock on groceries as the shop on the reservation only held the basics. But for the mean time sandwiches and toast would at least keep you going.

This morning you were woken by your alarm just before sunrise. The air was fresh and getting out of bed was a mental battle, but you couldn’t help feel excited. Today was officially the first day of your adult life. What you had been working on throughout college, even throughout school.

Your backpack was packed full with equipment and layers of clothes. Enough fore mentioned sandwiches for both yourself and Paul were also stuffed in. Maps were also tucked in just in case your phone, and the two battery packs you were also bringing, didn’t hold out. Turns out you had an inner Girl Scout after all.

Your phone ticked over to 7:30am just as there was a rap on the cabin door. Opening it revealed Paul. The man was impressively pulling off the cargo pants and green polo combo; the official but sparingly used uniform of the Quilliete Tribe. Blinking back into focus, the smirk on Paul’s face was a clear indicator that you had been caught.

“Morning,” he laughed. “Here” he thrusted a coffee into your hand. You almost hugged him in appreciation, before remembering the man is practically a stranger. The cabin had been only equipped with the basics, no kettle or coffee machine in sight, another necessity to find in Forks or even further afield.

“My hero! Where did you even get this?” You sighed appreciatively.

“Sue’s cafe. One and only on the Res. It’s hidden behind the school and not on maps so I’m not surprised you haven’t found it yet,”

“Damn, can’t believe I missed it on my walk yesterday, went right passed the school and everything. I thought I was a blood hound when it comes to coffee, how disappointing”

“Calm down Lassie, im sure you were just having an off day. Ready to get this show on the road?”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Paul’s truck was a comfortable ride as you headed out of town. You debated taking your car but after it’s cross country marathon you’d declared that it needed a little rest. That and you’d wanted to get used to the gravel roads before you chauffeured around attractive men on them. Plus then you wouldn’t a) get the pleasure of teasing Paul on his lack of manners when you paid for petrol on your work card later and b) see how his muscles flex every time he shifted gear. If the wolves fell through you’d happily spend six months studying the path of his tendons across his biceps.

Your first site wasn’t too far from La Push. An area of cliffs along the ocean was the last known sighting of a gray wolf in the area so it seemed like a good place to start your survey. You didn’t expect to cover too much ground, especially as you got the hang of it. Instead you wanted to be meticulous, examine the ground for wolf tracks, excrement and remains of prey.

You were going over the mental list of what to be on the look out for when the car pulled to a halt.

“Alright boss lady we’re here. You ready for this?”

“Absolutely.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Next chapter

Am I getting a little caught up in the idea of doing an ecological study like this…absolutely. So I had no real intention going in about making a long multi chapter story but that feels like where this is head. Is that something people are interested in, or do you prefer short and sweet??

[overdressedcarp]

Honestly, I love how the plotlines with Tingyun and Wonweek in 2.7 retroactively help explain why the consecration of the Harmony affected Aventurine the way it did in 2.1.

"The consecration has weird side effects as a result of the power of the Harmony" was honestly a fine explanation in and of itself, but it's cool to get a bit more detail about why Aventurine had those encounters with his "past" and "future" selves. The memoria-induced fracturing/dissociation that Sunday describes when talking about himself and Fugue is extremely similar to what we see with Aventurine in 2.1, both in the tangible effects and the factors that make it possible.

Both Wonweek and the convocation of Tingyuns are identified as the result of a special try-not-to-laugh candy that elicits uncontrollable laughter from those who consume it. (Penaconian consumables infused with specific emotions are something the story has leaned into since our excursion with Sparkle-as-Sampo in 2.0, so it doesn't surprise me at all that a product like this would exist.)

Notably, the candy doesn't have the fracturing side effect on everyone: it works as expected for March and the Trailblazer, and presumably most of the other Dreamchasers who participate in the challenge. Sunday identifies two specific factors that caused the atypical effects for him and Fugue: vulnerable/sensitive mental state, and a fragile sense of self.

Tingyun/Fugue fractured into dozens of memory fragments -- including a younger self embodying her childhood innocence and early memories on the Xianzhou, in much the same vein as Kakavasha for Aventurine.

Sunday, meanwhile, describes Wonweek as "another possibility of me": one that embodies traits he dislikes about himself, similar to the manifestation of Aventurine's "future." Wonweek and Future Aventurine are both externalizations of negative self-talk, giving Sunday and Aventurine a sounding board to express (and push back against) their own internalized self-loathing.

It's also interesting to me that Sunday identifies tuning as the solution for such fractures, adding credence to the idea that the Harmony's consecration (which itself appears to be a form of tuning), could disrupt a fragile psyche in much the same way Sunday can use his abilities to bring someone's mind back into alignment.

To be fair, I don't necessarily think Sunday anticipated this particular side effect of the consecration on Aventurine's mind. The events of Double Indemnity highlight the extent to which Sunday misjudged him by Aventurine's own design, falling for the facade that Aventurine fed him.

Aventurine is resilient... but he is also brittle, as evidenced by Acheron's voice line about him:

This lack of a strong inner self is something that Aventurine tries desperately to distract others from seeing, through the shallow and showy outer layers he presents to the world. But Sunday describes tuning as something that actively prevents people from being able to hide their inner self (very fitting for the Harmony, an Aeon that fundamentally blurs the boundaries between the Self and the Other).

To me, this adds another layer of significance to the presence of Kakavasha and Future Aventurine: they're there because Aventurine can't hide from them while under the Harmony's influence. He's so used to lying to himself about his true intentions that his childhood innocence and his nihilism have to physically manifest in front of him in order to be heard.

Tl;dr Aventurine's experiences under the effect of the Harmony in 2.1 make even more sense in hindsight, and I love the retroactive layers that 2.7 gives to his story arc.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Death (& Cheating Death)

Oddly enough, not all experts – or even countries – agree on what death actually is.

Brain activity stops

Temperature drops

Cells break down

Organs decay

Bacteria produce gas

In Britain, death is said to happen when:

The person has lost the capacity to ever be conscious again.

All the functions of the brainstem (such as telling the heart to beat and the lungs to inflate) have stopped.

What happens when someone has died?

Almost at once, blood begins to drain from the little blood vessels near the surface of the skin. This makes it look pale.

Bodily tissue starts to break down very quickly. That’s why organs are removed for transplant as soon as possible after someone dies.

Some organs function for longer than others after death. Brain cells go quickly, in no more than about 3 or 4 minutes. But muscle and skin cells may last for hours – perhaps a whole day.

In fact, a corpse is still very much alive. No, the person isn’t alive any more, but all the bacteria inside the body, plus all the others that flock in, certainly are. As they eat the body, they produce all kinds of smelly gases. When there’s no flesh remaining, there’s nothing left to cause a smell.

In some conditions, this process of decay is disrupted. This can happen naturally, as in the cases of bodies falling into peat bogs and being preserved (because the acids in the peat essentially pickle the flesh). But it can be done on purpose too.

Mummification

After pharaohs and some other members of the nobility died in Ancient Egypt, their bodies were preserved.

Most of their organs were taken out (though their hearts were left in place).

To remove the brain, a thin metal stick was poked up into their nose then wiggled around.

This whisked the brain up, turning it into a runny slop that could drain out through the nostrils.

Next, their bodies were dried out for 40 days.

Then they were coated in natural preservatives (things that would stop the body decomposing), such as beeswax, and wrapped in many layers of linen.

This completed the process of mummification.

What happens if the head is chopped off?

In the past, some criminals had their heads cut off as punishment, and members of the public would go along to watch.

Some reported seeing chopped-off heads blinking or even attempting to speak.

In 1803, two German scientists investigated these reports.

They pounced on heads as they fell and shouted, ‘Do you hear me?’ None responded.

They concluded that the brain, when separated from the body, lost consciousness immediately – or at least too quickly to measure.

How quickly?

Modern estimates range between 2 and 7 seconds. Which is quick.

But it still means that a brain in a chopped-off head might have a genuine out-of-body experience.

CHEATING DEATH

Your body is pretty tough. And as you know, your brain works very hard to keep you alive. Some uncomfortable experiments have revealed the amazing things it can do. Take extreme heat, for example...

The Walk-in Oven

In the 18th century, a doctor in London called Charles Blagden built what was essentially an oven big enough for a person to walk inside.

He and his friends would stand inside it for as long as they could bear.

Blagden managed ten minutes at a temperature of 92.2 degrees Celsius.

His friend, a famous botanist called Joseph Banks, managed 99.4 degrees – but only for seven minutes.

Unsurprisingly, the volunteers’ skin warmed up dramatically.

But Blagden also took the temperature of their urine.

He did this right before and after the oven experience.

And he found that there was no change.

That meant that their inner ‘body temperature’ had stayed the same.

This showed the toughness of the human body – it can regulate its own temperature even when outside temperatures are extreme.

He also noticed that the volunteers sweated a lot. This led him to realize that sweating is important for cooling the body.

Some of what we know about the toughness of the human body comes not from experiments, but from accidents and ‘lucky’ escapes.

The Deep Freeze

When Erika Nordby was a toddler, she woke up one night and wandered out of her home in Canada.

It was the middle of winter, and freezing outside.

When she was finally found, her heart hadn’t been beating for at least 2 hours.

But Erika was carefully warmed up at a local hospital, and she made a full recovery.

Just a couple of weeks later, a two-year-old boy on a farm in the USA did almost exactly the same thing.

He also recovered fully.

It sounds extraordinary – but dying is the last thing that your body wants to do.

Falling from a Plane

On 24 March 1944, a British airman called Nicholas Alkemade was in an RAF plane flying over Germany.

His plane was hit and burst into flames.

By the time he got to his parachute, it was on fire. So he decided to jump.

He was 3 miles above ground and falling at 120 miles per hour.

‘It was very quiet,’ he recalled later. He had no sensation of falling.

‘I felt suspended in space.’

Suddenly, he found himself crashing through the branches of some pine trees.

He landed with a thud in a snowbank, in a sitting position.

He had somehow lost both his boots and had a sore knee and some minor scrapes. But otherwise he was fine.

After World War II, Alkemade got a job in a chemical plant.

While he was working with chlorine gas, his mask became loose.

He was exposed to dangerously high levels of the chemical.

He lay unconscious for 15 minutes before co-workers dragged him out. Miraculously, he survived.

After he returned to work, he was adjusting a pipe one day when it burst and sprayed him from head to foot with sulphuric acid.

He suffered extensive burns. But he survived.

Shortly after returning to work again, a 9-foot-long metal pole fell on him from a height and very nearly killed him.

Incredibly, he survived.

He then found a much safer job – as a furniture salesman.

Alkemade went on to die peacefully in his bed at the age of 64.

Source ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References Writing Notes: Autopsy ⚜ Word List: Kill ⚜ Decompose Worksheets: Death & Sacrifice

[stumptation]

The Shape of DAK Stumps

DAK stumps result from bilateral above-knee amputations, meaning both legs have been surgically shortened, typically ending somewhere between the hip and mid-thigh, depending on the individual’s circumstances. For this description, let’s envision symmetrical stumps, each approximately 20 cm in length—roughly the distance from the hip to just above where the knee once was. This length offers a balanced proportion relative to the torso and provides a clear picture of their form.

Overall Form: Each stump begins at the hip, where it retains much of the thigh’s original thickness, supported by the upper femur (thigh bone) and surrounding muscles like the quadriceps and hamstrings, which may remain partially intact. From this wider base, the stump tapers gradually downward, narrowing as it approaches the end. The tip is rounded, not sharp or abrupt, as the bone has been surgically shaped and covered with soft tissue during the healing process. This creates a smooth, gentle curve that feels organic rather than artificial.

Symmetry and Proportion: With symmetrical 20 cm stumps, both sides mirror each other, lending a sense of harmony. When the person is seated or lying down, the stumps naturally part slightly, framing the pelvic area in a way that feels graceful and proportionate. They are neither overly long nor stubs, striking a midpoint that complements the body’s overall structure.

Surface Contours: The stumps aren’t perfectly cylindrical; their surfaces feature subtle variations shaped by the underlying anatomy. Along the length, you might notice the faint ridge of the femur beneath the skin, particularly near the rounded end where the bone lies closer to the surface. Surrounding this core, the remaining muscles create a firm yet yielding structure. There may be slight depressions or bulges—perhaps where muscles have been surgically reattached or where soft tissue has settled—adding character to each stump’s silhouette.

The Tactile Experience: Touch and Sensation

When a loving pair of hands touches DAK stumps, the experience is a rich interplay of texture, temperature, and emotional depth. The hands move slowly and deliberately, with a tenderness that honors both the physical form and the person’s lived experience.

Initial Contact and Temperature: The first sensation is the temperature of the skin. Due to reduced blood flow in the area, the stumps might feel slightly cooler than the rest of the body, especially if the person has been at rest. As the hands rest gently on the skin, their warmth begins to transfer, creating a comforting exchange. This gradual warming is more than physical—it’s a quiet gesture of care, bridging the space between two people.

Skin Texture: The skin offers a variety of sensations. In some areas, particularly along the inner thigh, it’s smooth and soft, with a delicate give that invites the hands to glide effortlessly. Elsewhere, near the surgical scars, the texture shifts. These scars might feel firmer or slightly raised, perhaps tougher or smoother than the surrounding skin, depending on how they’ve healed over time. Tracing a finger along these lines is like following a story etched into the body—a map of resilience and recovery.

Underlying Structure: With gentle pressure, the hands encounter the firmness of the bone near the end of each stump. The femur, rounded and cushioned by muscle and fat, forms a solid yet subtle core. This firmness contrasts with the softer tissue around it, offering a reassuring sense of strength. The surrounding muscles, though shortened and repurposed, retain some tone—especially if the person stays active. They feel dense but pliable, responding faintly to touch with a slight shift or flex.

Soft Tissue and Padding: At the tip of each stump, where the bone is closest to the surface, a layer of soft tissue provides natural padding. This area is particularly sensitive, both physically and emotionally. When cupped gently in the palm, the rounded end nestles comfortably, its yielding softness evoking vulnerability and trust. The hands might linger here, savoring the delicate balance between fragility and endurance.

Sensation of Weight: If the stumps rest fully in the hands—perhaps lifted slightly or cradled—their weight becomes noticeable. Despite their shortened length, the remaining muscle, bone, and tissue carry a certain heft. This weight grounds the experience, making it feel tangible and real, a physical anchor to the emotional connection unfolding.

Emotional and Sensory Layers

The act of touching DAK stumps with love transcends the physical, weaving in layers of emotional intimacy. Each movement of the hands communicates acceptance, admiration, and a deep reverence for the body as it is—complete and beautiful in its uniqueness.

Sensitivity and Responsiveness: While the stumps themselves may have reduced sensation (depending on nerve regrowth), the surrounding areas—like the hips, pelvis, and upper thighs—remain highly responsive. A loving touch might begin at the stumps and extend outward, exploring these adjacent regions to create a holistic sense of connection. The stumps, though central, become part of a broader sensory landscape.

Rhythm and Movement: The hands might adopt a soothing rhythm—stroking from the base near the hip down to the tip, then back again. This motion feels almost meditative, calming for both the giver and receiver. Though the stumps are immobile in the conventional sense, they seem to “respond” through subtle shifts in muscle tension or the person’s breathing, deepening the shared experience.

Intimacy and Trust: For the person with DAK stumps, allowing this touch is an act of profound trust—an invitation to engage with a part of their body that carries both vulnerability and strength. In return, the loving hands offer unwavering acceptance, affirming that every scar, curve, and contour is worthy of affection. This exchange fosters a bond rooted in mutual openness, a silent dialogue of care and understanding.

A Symphony of Sensations

In the hands of a loving partner, DAK stumps become a canvas for connection—a blend of physical form and emotional resonance. Their shape, with its tapering lines and rounded ends, invites exploration. The tactile qualities—cool skin warming under touch, smooth expanses giving way to firmer scars, the solid bone beneath pliable muscle—create a symphony of sensations that captivate both the mind and heart.

Ultimately, this experience is about more than anatomy. It’s about honoring the body’s journey, celebrating its resilience, and finding beauty in its unique contours. For both the person with the stumps and the one touching them, it’s a testament to love’s ability to embrace every part of a person, transcending conventional notions of perfection with tenderness and grace. Ultimately, this experience is about more than anatomy. It’s about honoring the body’s journey, celebrating its resilience, and finding beauty in its unique contours. For both the person with the stumps and the one touching them, it’s a testament to love’s ability to embrace every part of a person, transcending conventional notions of perfection with tenderness and grace.

The image shows a close-up of a person’s AK (above-knee) stump being gently held by a hand. The stump, resulting from an amputation above the knee, likely ends somewhere mid-thigh, though the exact length isn’t fully clear. It has a rounded tip where the amputation occurred, with the remaining thigh tapering slightly upward toward the hip. The skin covering the stump is smooth but appears slightly taut, possibly from swelling or the natural healing process. A subtle sheen reflects off the surface, emphasizing its contours under the light.

The stump isn’t without marks—faint lines, possibly scars or stretch marks, are visible, hinting at the surgical history or the body’s adjustment to its new shape. The skin tone is warm, with a slight reddish tint in areas, which could indicate recent activity, mild irritation, or ongoing healing. Two small, raised red spots on the upper part of the stump catch the eye, perhaps minor skin irritations or healing points, adding a touch of texture to the otherwise even surface.

The hand cradling the stump belongs to someone with a lighter skin tone, creating a soft contrast with the stump’s warmth. The fingers curve gently around it, holding it with care rather than a firm grip, suggesting tenderness and support. This gentle touch elevates the scene, turning a simple physical moment into one of emotional resonance—conveying comfort, empathy, or quiet reassurance.

[perpetual-stories]

Eight Strategies for Improving Dialogue in Your Writing

Well, hi! Oh my… wow! It’s been a long time since I’ve posted! I’ve been very busy and I am genuinely sorry to all my followers, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten about this account, but here is one final post for the year!

Hopefully next year I become consistent with it again!

Let’s begin!

One of the best ways to help a reader connect with your writing is by crafting excellent dialogue. Use these tips to learn how to write dialogue that showcases character development, defines your characters’ voices, and hooks readers.

Why Use Dialogue?

Good dialogue performs all sorts of functions in fiction writing. It defines your characters’ voices, establishes their speech patterns, exposes the inner emotions, and showcases their character development. Beyond mere characterization, effective dialogue can also establish the setting and time period of your story and reveal information in a way that doesn’t feel overly expository.

Authors use lines of dialogue to reveal a character’s personality and express their point of view. For instance, an archetypal football coach might speak in short, terse sentences peppered with exclamation points and quotations from famous war generals. By contrast, a nebbish lover with a broken heart might drone on endlessly to his therapist or best friend, speaking in run-on sentences that circle around his true motivations. When an author can reveal character traits through dialogue, it cuts down on exposition and makes a story flow briskly.

Eight Writing Tips for Improving Dialogue

The first time you write dialogue, you may find it quite difficult to replicate the patterns of normal speech. This can be compounded by the concurrent challenges of finding your own voice and telling a great story overall. Even bestselling authors can get stuck on how a particular character says a particular line of dialogue. With practice and hard work, however, lackluster dialogue can be elevated to great dialogue.

Here are some strategies for improving the dialogue in your own work:

Mimic the voices of people in your own life. Perhaps you’ve created a physician character with the same vocal inflections as your mother. Perhaps your hero soldier talks just like your old volleyball coach. If you want to ensure that your dialogue sounds the way real people speak, there’s no better resource than the real life people in your everyday world.

Mix dialogue with narration. Long runs of dialogue can dislodge a reader from the action of a scene. As your characters talk, interpolate some descriptions of their physical postures or other activity taking place in the room. This mimics the real-world experience of listening to someone speaking while simultaneously taking in visual and olfactory stimuli.

Give your main character a secret. Sometimes a line of dialogue is most notable for what it withholds. Even if your audience doesn’t realize it, you can build dynamic three-dimensionality by having your character withhold a key bit of information from their speech. For instance, you may draft a scene in which a museum curator speaks to an artist about how she wants her work displayed—but what the curator isn’t saying out loud is that she’s in love with the artist. You can use that secret to embed layers of tension into the character’s spoken phrases.

Use a layperson character to clarify technical language. When you need dialogue to convey technical information in approachable terms, split the conversation between two people. Have one character be an expert and one character be uninformed. The expert character can speak at a technical level, and the uninformed one can stop them, asking questions for clarification. Your readers will appreciate it.

Use authentic shorthand. Does your character call a gun a “piece” or a “Glock”? Whatever it is, be authentic and consistent in how your characters speak. If they all sound the same, your dialogue needs another pass.

Look to great examples of dialogue for inspiration. If you're looking for a dialogue example in the realm of novels or short stories, consider reading the great books written by Mark Twain, Judy Blume, or Toni Morrison. Within the world of screenwriting, Aaron Sorkin is renowned for his use of dialogue.

Ensure that you’re punctuating your dialogue properly. Remember that question marks and exclamation points go inside quotation marks. Enclose dialogue in double quotation marks and use single quotation marks when a character quotes another character within their dialogue. Knowing how to punctuate dialogue properly can ensure that your reader stays immersed in the story.

Use dialogue tags that are evocative. Repeating the word “said” over and over can make for dull writing and miss out on opportunities for added expressiveness. Consider replacing the word “said” with a more descriptive verb.