#just convert an existing one to your world

[punzoblr]

I hope tubbo underestimates the power of his nuke and literally just fucking kills everyone on accident

[ellecdc]

HEY POOKIE!!!!

Could I request a fic with either poly moon water or poly marauders where reader has had mental health issues but they were getting better and then they slip back into them. This happens to me in moments and I have to remind myself that it’s part of my progress but it would be so nice if I had someone else to say it too. No pressure lovely!!!!

I ADORE all of your marauders work!! Like OML I never know how much I needed poly moonwater until youuuu❤️❤️❤️😘

hi babes! totally get where you're coming from re: mental health issues. It's a marathon, not a race. and I'm so glad you love moonwater! my evil plan of converting the entire fandom (lol) is succeeding. I opted to go with the marauders but it's quite sirius centric

poly!marauders x fem!reader who is struggling with her mental health

CW: non-sexual nudity [nothing is described], discussion of dark mental headspace and anxiety/depression [again, nothing is described]

You felt awful.

You knew the boys would be understanding, but it didn’t make you feel any better about your behaviour.

You’d found yourself slipping back into familiar and darker headspaces as of late, and though you couldn’t deny the disconcerting comfort that familiarity brought, you knew you couldn’t allow yourself to fully fall back into it; you worked so hard to move beyond this, and you had been doing so well.

It hurt worse now that you felt like you weren’t just disappointing yourself anymore, but also disappointing three other people who - for whatever reason - cared an awful lot about you.  

You’d been inching closer and closer to a panic all day and wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed when you got home and pretend the world didn’t exist for a few hours days weeks. 

Those kinds of plans don’t work when you live with three other people, two of which have the tendency to coddle you.

You knew that irritability was one of the symptoms of your anxiety, but knowing that didn’t stop the sting of your words as they left your lips. 

James was too nice, too bright, too happy, too lovely. You felt like the polar opposite of your sweetest boyfriend, which made you feel even more disappointing than you already had. And Remus was a fixer; he had a tendency to see a problem and immediately start problem solving, but that’s not what you needed right now.

Of course, you didn’t say that.

Of course, you got angry and lashed out at them before storming off to your room and slamming the door.

What started off as feeling blue quickly spiralled into a low affect. Feeling low left you increasingly anxious. Your anxiety left you feeling disappointing and less than, which caused you to feel depressed. The more depressed you got, the more anxious you became. The more anxious you became, the more depressed you felt.

It was a vicious cycle and you were stuck in its seemingly never ending assault on you.

And now, you weren’t just depressed and anxious; you were also feeling terribly guilty and overwhelmed at the thought of having upset Remus and James. 

Remus, who only wanted to help, who only wanted you to feel better, who only wanted to care for you. 

And James, who only wanted to perhaps share a little bit of his joy with you on the off chance it could brighten your day.

You were awful.

Horrid.

You didn’t deserve them, and they didn’t deserve you - they deserved better. You deserved nothing.

You’re not sure how long you had been standing under the spray of the water with your head against the cool tile when you heard a gentle knock against the glass of the shower door.

You felt the irritability surge in your blood again at the intrusion of your pity party, but tried your hardest to take a steadying breath before you hummed a quiet “yeah?”

“Can I come in?” You heard Sirius’ voice ask from the other side, apparently having gotten home sometime during your meltdown.

He could, though you weren’t sure he should.

You were terrible after all.

Horrid. 

The glass door popped open and Sirius shoved his face in. You didn’t bother turning your face towards him but you could feel the questions permeating his being nonetheless.

“I’m coming in.” He announced, deciding on your behalf. 

You heard the sound of his clothes falling to the bathroom floor, and you knew if Remus were in here he’d be scolding him: “there’s a hamper right there, Sirius.” 

But Remus wasn’t here because you were awful and you couldn’t bring yourself to care about the sodding hamper nor Sirius’ clothes littering the floor.

Some of your steam escaped as Sirius opened the shower door fully and you were accosted with cool air that left your body covered in goosebumps. He corrected it quickly by standing under the spray with you and pushing his front up against your back, leaning his chin on your shoulder.

“Fuck, you take hot showers.” He commented.

Usually you’d laugh.

“Sorry.” You said instead.

He rubbed at your hips where his hands had fallen with his thumbs, eliciting another layer of goosebumps on your skin. 

“You’re not feeling too good, are you baby?” He asked quietly.

You let out an exhausted breath. “I don’t feel good; I’m no good.” You responded just as quietly.

Sirius ducked his chin down to kiss your shoulder before quickly replacing it.

“That’s not true.”

You didn’t respond, glad that the water streaming over your face hid the evidence of the tears escaping your eyes.

Wordlessly, Sirius pulled away and grabbed your shampoo, working it into your hair. You did nothing to help him in his task, keeping your head pressed against the shower wall as he lathered the soap on your scalp. He pulled the handheld down to rinse it out, paying special attention to point the spray away from your face since you didn’t seem too fussed over protecting your own eyes. He combed some conditioner through your hair and rinsed it out in much the same manner before grabbing a loofa and lathering body wash over your form.

“Sometimes it’s two steps forward and one step back.” He commented, finally breaking the silence that had long been only the sound of the water falling and each of your breaths. “But that still means you’re one step forward.”

A sob escaped you, causing Sirius to pause in his ministrations and pull you back into his chest again.

He didn’t say anything else; he knew better. Of course he would, Sirius sometimes understood this side of you better than the others did. Sirius had a tendency to fall into darker times too, also having a penchant for lashing out at those closest to him when things felt like too much.

He let you cry, standing under the likely too-hot-for-his-tastes water, as he rocked you back and forth with your head leaned back, resting on his shoulder as you faced toward the ceiling. 

“Do they hate me?” You whimpered eventually, trying to convince your lungs to take in slower, deeper breaths.

“Of course they don’t; you know they don’t.”

“Are they mad at me?”

You could feel Sirius shake his head, but he answered you verbally anyway.

“No, doll. They worry, is all.”

You didn’t like that. You didn’t want them to worry. “I’m fine.”

“I know you are.” He agreed readily. “They do too.”

You let that sit in the foggy air for a little bit.

“Do you know that?” He asked eventually.

“Know what?”

“That you’re okay? That you’re just fine?”

You thought about that for a moment. You were sad, and you were anxious, but were you fine?

You admitted to yourself you felt the familiar tendrils of your darker self pulling at you, but you could also admit it was different this time. You were better, you had been working hard, and most importantly, that hard work was paying off.

You may have been two steps forward and one step back, but you were still one step forward from where you started.

“You’re sure they’re not mad at me?” You asked instead, earning you a chuckle as Sirius turned you in his arms to hold your face between his hands. 

“No one is mad at you, love. I swear it. You are, however, very loved.”

You offered him the best smile you could muster and let him pull you forward for a chaste kiss. 

“Then… yes, I know I’m fine.” You agreed eventually, earning you a beaming smile from your boyfriend.

“Atta girl.” 

Your felt your cheeks heat up at the praise and pushed your forehead into his chest.

“Can we get out of this torture chamber, now? I swear this water is being heated by hellfire.” He joked, leaning around you to turn off the shower without your consent.

“It’s really not that bad.” You argued, earning you a scoff.

“I’m red, doll. The water has marred my skin, perhaps permanently.”

You continued arguing about proper shower etiquette as you rubbed lotion into your skin (and then into Sirius’ for his troubles [he really was sort of red]), and changed into your comfies.

You headed towards the living room before you remembered you were sort of ashamed with yourself for the way you had spoken to the other two boys, but Sirius didn’t allow you to hesitate in the hall as he caught your elbow when your steps faltered and ushered you into the room.

“Boys, we’re really going to have to do something about her shower habits.” He commented as if a) nothing had happened, and b) you weren’t even there. “I’m surprised she hasn’t completely melted her skin off." 

“Perhaps hot showers are how she gets so beautiful, Sirius, ever think about that?” James jested back, earning him an indignant scoff.

“Are you saying I’m not pretty, Jamie?”

“As pretty as Y/N?” Remus interjected, looking between the two of you as if assessing. “No, not at all.” 

“Well I-” Sirius began, but you interrupted.

“I’m sorry.”

Everyone’s shoulders fell as they turned to look at you, clearly willing to brush over the tension if that had been what you wanted.

“I was rude and irritable when I got home, and neither of you deserved that. I’m sorry.”

“Angel…” James started, opening his arms for you which you readily accepted and tucked yourself into his chest.

“I was never mad to begin with, but I’ll go ahead and forgive you right now if that’ll make you feel better, okay?” He murmured into your wet hair.

“Okay. Thank you.” You murmured back.

“You’re too sweet for us, dove.” Remus commented, moving to place a consoling hand on your back.

“I was the opposite of that earlier.” You chuckled at your own expense. 

“Please.” Sirius scoffed derisively. “These two are too nice, especially when you feel like shit; I’ve given them a far harder time than you have, dollface.” 

“It’s true.” James said quickly. “He once told me he’d rather have a cup of tea with his mother than snuggle with me when he was in one of his moods once.”

You gasped and looked at Sirius in horror. “You did not.”

Sirius, not at all guilty, shrugged nonchalantly. “Sure did, and I meant it too.”

“Oh come off it.” Remus chided, pulling Sirius into his side who broke out in a grin, effectively eliminating his earnest facade. 

“No, of course I didn’t mean it.” He relented, leaning further into Remus’ side. 

“I don’t like myself very much when I’m like this.” You admitted quietly.

“We’ll love you enough for all of us in the meantime then, yeah?” James asked, pulling you into his arms tighter.

“Just be patient with yourself dove, you’re much too hard on yourself. We’re here now and we’ll be here when you feel better too.” Remus added.

“Can’t get rid of us that easily, dollface.” Sirius concluded, shooting you a wink.

Two steps forward and one step back.

But you were still one step forward.

You knew you would make two more steps forward again soon.

[alyakthedorklord]

Welcome to Danny’s Part 2

People have been asking for more of this ^^ so here you go, have a really long word vomit of stuff i think is funny

(IM NOT WRITING THIS FIC GDI I HAVE ENOUGH WIP’S!)

Danny’s restaurant is ALSO manned by-

Tucker, who will fix your tech for free, has tattoos of hieroglyphics and lines of code that shift around when he gets busy.

Sam, who makes an express line for veggie orders. If you try to order meat from sam all the potted plants start trembling.

Jazz, who has a special booth in the back and Magically makes people dump their deepest secrets to her in streamlined Liminal Powers Therapy. (It’s a bit weird but hey the people she targets feel better so whatevs.)

Dani, who shares pictures from tourist traps she's visited, though there’s also some REALLY WEIRD pics of alternate realities and cult shenanigans mixed in. Some of the older patrons are concerned. She’s a little too young to do all this alone- actually, how old is she? Her father looks like he’s in his early twenties…

Dan, who is working here while “on parole” and often loudly argues with Danny about it.

“I don’t want to work in your stupid shop, Dad!”

Dan is two whole feet taller than danny and three times as wide i will not be taking constructive criticism. He’s a whole silver fox. There are some ladies who have a crush on him and they’re really concerned if he’s legal bc danny is younger than them how is Dan his child-

“Dan, how old are you?”

“I don’t know, like, a hundred sixty something?”

(Lady turns to look at Danny, who shrugs and smiles.) “time dilation. What a world we live in. Dan, kiddo, can you get some more napkins from the back?”

“Ugh, fine, dad.”

The first villain Danny ACTUALLY fights isn’t the Joker. It’s Condiment King. Dan runs away from him, which is already weird bc guy is MASSIVE, and the condiment king chases him bc YES SOMEONE FINALLY FEARS HIM PROPERLY.

Danny bursts out of the shop in righteous fatherly fury and beats the snot out of him. Everyones is confused bc… what? Dan is massive? Why is he scared? Why is the twink beating the snot out of condiment king?

“Dan had a traumatic experience with Burger Sauce.” Danny explains, glaring down at the rouge at his feet. He kicks him, growls, “Don’t mess with my kid.” And walks back inside.

No one asks, bc this is gotham. Asking is rude, and also it lessens the Mystery that is Danny’s. No one knows how the kids came into existence. No one knows, before someone from out of town (metropolis, ugh) asks about the sign.

The sign outside the shop says:

Welcome to Danny’s!

Do no harm and no harm shall befall you.

Start nothing and nothing will be ended.

We have baseball bats and fists and a mean swing.

This establishment does not serve- guys in white (suits), Vlad, Transphobes, Vlad, Clowns, VLAD.

Do not ask for the secret menu. If you can get it, Danny will offer it.

(Don’t scare the other customers, please.)

When asked who Vlad is, bc he’s banned three times, Danny just kind of sighs.

“He’s my kid's other parent. He’s an obsessive creep who completely ignores Danielle because she’s a girl, rolling in money but won’t pay his child support. You know how it is.”

Several goons ask what he looks like so they can keep an eye out. Dani happily tells them “look at Dan, take away Dad’s features, then convert 30% of his height and weight into smarminess.”

It's an effective description. Vlad gets full body tackled the moment he enters the neighborhood. Danny gives the goons free fudge (family recipe, one of the restaurants signatures)

One of the reasons Danny’s is so popular is bc its open 24/7. (Unless its one of those weird times where all the doors are locked and if you look through the window blinds theres nothing but a starry void.) One of the reasons Danny’s is so weird is bc Danny is ALWAYS behind the counter. Always. Round the clock. He doesn’t sleep, eat, anything. Some people swear he has a twin he swaps out with (clones).

Sometimes, after a really difficult customer, Danny will let out a really long sigh and mutter “time out” before glitching into a new position, with a new shirt and combed hair. No one mentions it.

Theres a deal that’s just, “beat danny in a fight you eat for free.”

The deal extends to both Dan and Dani as well. Even if you lose you get fudge as a reward for courage.

No one ever wins.

One time, a couple brought their kid, recently discharged from the hospital. Danny comes over to them and grins. “Hey, kiddo! Bet you gave your parents a scare, huh? Pulled through in the end. That means you get the secret menu!”

Parents: hey wtf?

Danny, handing over a perfectly normal menu: 😀

Kid: “ooh mommy look at the glowy stars!”

Parents: !?!?!?

Danny: 😁

Old man Dave, whose heart has stopped like three times now: “Oh don’t worry about that, prices are the same and it will help your kid feel much better. Danny’s just a little weird.”

After all, it’s not just full ghosts that get the menu. If you’ve been dead, heart stopped, soul out of body before being popped back into place, then you get it. There’s actually a pretty high number of people who get it, bc this is Gotham. People get resuscitated after rogue attacks. The ecto actually helps stabilize their soul after getting jerked between life and death so rudely.

The secret menu that they’re given is just a normal menu, scribbled over top with an ecto pen, invisible to non-secret menu havers. Different “ecto-levels” to choose from, and three extra dishes. There’s also instructions to get into the “back room” for those who can’t go intangible, though it comes with a disclaimer “not for the faint of heart.”

There’s also a small note at the bottom- “do not share food.”

Anyways, as per original post. Tim herds Joker into Danny’s radar bc he Cannot Deal Right Now. He salutes Danny, who waves back, grinning like he didn’t just come at the Clown Prince of Crime like a feral badger on crack cocaine. “Heya, Red Robin! You want a coffee?”

“Please.” Tim sighs. “You’re the best, Danny.”

Jason looks between tim and the shop danny just vanished into. “Uh, what?”

“Danny doesn’t like clowns.” Tim explains. “Or condiment king. They get close, Danny takes them out.”

Jason is incredibly confused, bc he just came back from an out of town mission, but this place is right on the edge of his territory and he should definitely know about it. He asks tim, who just shrugs.

“That shop is weird. It’s like a grocery store at 3am. I stumbled in there after a rough night and Danny just whipped me up the best coffee i've ever had. Still can’t find their website. I swear it’s bigger on the inside and the door keeps swapping from one side of that fire hydrant to the other.”

Danny comes out and passes Tim a massive coffee cup. “Come back and talk shop with tucker, okay? You’re welcome any time. Both of you, actually.”

He gives Jason a weird look and then goes back inside.

Jason, who is a little concerned that the reverence tim has is more than his average weird worship of coffee (it's just that good) goes back the next day in civvies.

He gets offered the secret menu, danny does the eye thing, Jason retreats to look at the secret menu. Unsure of what just happened, he texts tim.

Jason: Why was i given a “secret menu”

Tim: WTF WHAT DID YOU DO TO GET THAT

Jason: IDK THATS WHY IM TEXTING YOU

tim: I'VE BEEN GOING FOR MONTHS I’M A LOYAL PATRON WHAT DO YOU HAVE THAT I DONT

Jason: the secret menu apparently (image)

Tim: …thats just the normal menu???

Jason: no? It looks like a kid went ham with a neon green marker tf?

Duke: you know this is the family chat right?

Steph: order the waffles

Jason: you order the waffles. Wtf is an ecto-level.

Jason asks for what danny recommends, Danny immediately gives him a milkshake and tells him it's on the house bc he “looks rough.”

Jason is kind if offended, bc he actually got a decent sleep- but then he tries it and its like.

Oh.

Now. Between the stink Tim is making, and the sudden worship that Jason has of this shops milkshakes, the BatFamily is now Curious and will Investigate.

Are the milkshakes really that good?

The full force of the Wayne Family™ isn’t exactly subtle, so they go in twos and threes over the course of a week.

Damian gets offered the secret menu, and is also directed towards Sam’s express vegetarian line. Danny just Knew. Damian accuses Tim and/or Jason of pulling a prank on him, but they both swear up and down they didn’t say anything.

Both Steph (i think? Did she fake her death or actually die idk) and Cass get the secret menu, and they keep trying to ask Tim what certain things on the menu mean. Tim Cannot See what they’re talking about. He’s starting to get frustrated. Is it some sort of magic spell?

Tim takes Kon to Danny’s. (Is it a date? A test date on a low-stakes investigation? Maybe.) Danny, who is really starting to enjoy messing with Tim, gleefully offers Kon the secret menu, and Tim the normal one. Tim bangs his head on the table.

Dick doesn’t get a secret menu, but he does notice a couple disappear through the wall. He’s almost certain he’s seen them before, but it will be a while before he remembers Kitty and Johnny from his early Robin Days.

Duke is also not offered a secret menu, but he can see the writing anyways. He can also see that some of the patrons have weird auras, and what on EARTH is up with Danny himself? He tries to ignore it, up until Steph gets him to order one of the specials off Cass’s (secret) menu. And Danny just kind of sharpens, the air going cold.

“I didn’t give you that menu. Just because you can read it, doesn’t mean you want it. Order off the right menu, please.”

Duke, freaked the hell out by the Biblically Accurate Horror that Danny is shifting into, orders off the right menu and apologizes.

“Oh, it’s alright!” Danny flips back to cheerful in seconds. “It’s just that it wouldn’t be completely healthy for you to eat it, even if you are part immortal.”

Duke bluescreens.

Alright, somethings definitely going on.

Tim and Jason both order the same thing- an oreo milkshake, one off the secret menu, one off the normal menu. Jason confirms the one from the normal menu does not taste the same and isn’t as good. Tim cannot confirm the other way around, because Jason nearly punches him when he attempts to taste it.

They take samples home, analyze them, and go over anecdotes from other patrons, trying to figure out what makes Danny’s so weird. What makes Kon, Cass, Jason, and Damian different?

Wait a second. Kon, Cass, Jason, Damian. The ones that died and came back to life.

It’s around this time that Dick remembers where he’s seen Kitty and Johnny before. Lovers from two houses, both alike in (in)dignity, had a romeo-and-juliet-esque escapade across Gotham, ending in high speed chase with Kitty’s gangster father and a fatal motorcycle accident. Both are dead. Both are in Danny’s.

Danny’s has something to do with death.

Having heard a couple stories about food of the dead, they notify Bruce (who is very concerned as to what exactly his children have been putting in their mouths) and then call in the magic users of the justice league.

It’s a mess. Dan calls Constantine a whore. Deadman and Secret (i think thats Tim’s ghost friend?) get abducted to the backroom. Dani clocks Capt. Marvel as another kid who looks older than he actually is, with magic powers, and his showing him her REALLY interesting travel photos. Zatanna is like “this place needs an exorcism” and danny just goes “ma’am please don’t exorcize my customers.”

Tag list (if you saw me attempt this before no you didn’t)

@nappinginhell @apointlessbox @thegatorsgoose @chaos-n-kindness @mimilikey @phoenixdemonqueen @treepainting @sjrose1216 @akikkobara @malice-of-the-sunrise @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @randomkiddoscrewingaround @call-me-strega @blankliferain @somera-rubina @wordsgohere95 @rukiaai @mirellacoco @stargazing-bookwyrm @bathildaburp @littlefeather345

[whereserpentswalk]

You have a computer that can access the internet of any dimension. You don't have the ability to physically go places, just to observe them and interact with them through this one machine.

Sometimes you'll just do it for fun. Seeing other timeline's versions of sites and the content that's created there. Getting to see work from artists if they hadn't sold out or moved on. Or getting to see what YouTube is like in a world where it never become corpratized. Or get to go on Vine in a world where vine exists in 2024. You've read writing from Shakespeare if he had been sent to the new world, seen stories from Lovecraft if he had unlearned his bigotry, seen experimental films from George Lucas if star wars had floppe, heard music from Kurt Cobain if he hadn't died young.

And you've gone off to weirder places to. You've seen what political discourse is like in a world where Constantine converted to Buddhism instead of chrsitianity, where that's the dominant religion of the west. And you'll see conservatives talking about how sjws are undermining the west's Buddhist values, or YouTube videos talking about chrsitantiy as this forgotten dead religion from the crisis if the third century. And you asked someone in the comments of that video what they thought a world would be like if chrsitanity survived, and they said it was impossible, that it was doomed to die out just because it did.

And you've talked to people from a world where humanity lives underground, where an apocalypse made the surface of the world uninhabitable, and every human on earth lives in massive subterranean complexes. You talked to them about what they wanted, if they wanted to see the sun, see the forests and the birds and the creatures that they knew were above them, and most of them didn't really want it. Most of them didn't really want to see the surface, they had grown up having never seen it, it didn't bother them, they were confused why anyone would be that committed to finally go somewhere that humans weren't. And there was one person who told you they did always really want to see it, that it's their hyperfixation, but that they'd obviously go back with the other humans if they had the chance, that they couldn't live somewhere without them.

And you've seen a world where humans where dead, where only robots and ai and cyborgs were still around. And even though they couldn't touch you, you were afraid, because you thought they would hate you. But they didn't, on every site where they talked about humans they talked about how cool you were, and how much aprication they had for their culture. And when you made a post asking if they'd want to hurt humans if they saw them, everyone who replied called you weird.

You've seen the internet in a world where cryptids and monsters are real. And you ended up on a forum for vampires. And you asked a newly turned vampire how they felt, and they said it was cold, that their body felt so cold, but it was still their body, and that they still wanted to live, still wanted to find a way to enjoy their life even if they didn't like their body.

And you've seen a world where all humans are completely aroace, and don't desire sex or romance at all. And you decided to upload sexual and romantic art, and even fetish art, to one of their sites. And the people there loved it, despite not understanding its purpose, they loved the way the artist depicted the world, saw it as so unique and strange, as something weirdly beautiful, and not at all gross, because nobody ever told them such things were gross.

And you've made online freinds from other worlds. People who you can never touch, never see, but who you see through their words. You've comforted someone who doesn't exist in your world, from a country that doesn't exist in your world, but you've comforted them, and made sure they don't get hurt or hurt themself, from very far away, because despite everything you can't help but care.

Mabye the internet isn't that bad. Mabye the world isn't all horrible. Mabye people aren't that bad.

[level2janitor]

Introduction to the OSR

what's an OSR? it's a game that's kinda like old-school D&D. or is old-school D&D. or is compatible with old-school D&D. an OSR game generally has some or all of the following principles:

low character power with highly lethal combat. in old-school D&D a 1st-level fighter has d8 hit points and a longsword does d8 damage, and you die at 0HP. this is not to ensure characters die all the time but to emphasize the next bullet point:

emphasis on creative problem solving. most situations cannot be solved by straightforward use of your abilities (such as charging into every situation with swords drawn, if a fighter), so the game tests lateral, outside-the-box thinking.

emphasis on diegetic progression. spells are found, not obtained automatically on level-up. you get XP by finding gold more than killing monsters. most of your cool abilities come from magic items. making alliances & hiring followers is encouraged.

focus on managing inventory, resources, risk, and time. the players are constantly faced with meaningful decisions; this is the heart of the game.

very sandbox-oriented. the focus on creative problem solving means the game must be accommodating to players taking a course of action the GM didn't plan for. use lots of random tables to generate emergent story. some elements of new simulationism.

high tactical transparency, i.e., the optimal course of action is rarely system-specific, and ideally very possible for a new player to intuit.

usually semi-compatible with old D&D, but not always. usually rules-lite, but not always.

what does the OSR mostly NOT do?

focus on character builds. these change the focus too much to be on the rules than the fiction, can create situations where stuff everyone should be able to do is an ability locked to one class, and impede tactical transparency.

resolve everything with a die roll. combat uses dice to be scary, unpredictable and most importantly not your default course of action. everything else should bring up dice rarely - dice are your plan B when your plan A fails. the best plans need no dice.

use linear storytelling or put players into a writer/GM role. linear storytelling gets in the way of the decision-making so core to the playstyle; letting players write details into the setting is mutually exclusive with them discovering it.

rules for everything. 400 pages of crunch is worse at simulating a believable world than the GM and players' shared understanding. OSR games rely constantly on GM ruling.

mostly still applies to all the above. making your system a "pure" OSR game comes second to doing what's best for your game.

System recommendations

old D&D or a retroclone

old-school D&D - or old school essentials or basic fantasy or swords & wizardry, which are old D&D's mechanics repackaged with quality-of-life tweaks (and the upside of not giving WOTC your money) - are usually the go-to when recommending someone's first OSR game. they're actually not my first pick, though!

PROS:

very complete, with more robust rules than a lot of the lighter games on this list.

100% compatibility: most OSR adventures are statted for old school essentials. converting them to other OSR systems is usually simple, but not 1-for-1.

easier to find games for. anyone interested in the OSR space knows what old school essentials is.

CONS:

jank. these games largely still have weird saves, level limits for non-humans, some still have descending AC, etc etc. it's not that bad but it is there

i hate thief skills. lots of essential dungeoneering actions are locked to the thief class as abilities, with abysmally low success chances. this is stuff i prefer being handled without a roll. thieves in this system suck and make everyone else worse at dungeon crawling by existing.

there's just lots of really cool shit in other systems i'm about to go into that you just don't get here

Knave 1e and its various hacks

this is a 7-page super-lightweight system that boils everything down to just the essentials.

rolling a character takes like 5 minutes. roll stats, roll gear, roll traits, go. done. it's great.

characters are defined entirely by stats and gear, no classes. wanna be a fighter, have high strength and carry a big sword and armor. wanna be a wizard, have high intelligence and fill your inventory with spells. item slots are elegant and pretty limited.

initiative is instant: roll d6. 1-3, monsters go first. 4-6, PCs go first. swingy, but god it is so smooth and shaves like the most boring 5 minutes off of every combat

monsters are so very elegant. old D&D gives monsters a "hit dice" rating to determine their HP, e.g. a 3HD monster rolls 3d8 for hit points. knave takes this number (HD) and uses it for attack rolls and saves (aside from exceptionally bad/good saves), so a knave statblock looks something like this.

spells are all one or two sentences long & extremely easy to remember.

7 pages is so light. i have the system basically memorized.

DOWNSIDES: there's no dungeon crawling rules (standard for meatier OSR games & something i consider essential) and no real bestiary, though the second point isn't a huge deal cause they're so easy to make. it also kinda assumes you already know how to run OSR games, so there's very little real advice or guidance.

KNAVE HACKS

knave 1e is in creative commons & comes with an editable word doc for you to publish with modifications, so there's a ton of variants (there was a spreadsheet of them somewhere, but i can't find it).

Grave is a favorite - i'm two years into a grave campaign and it's fantastic. it's a dark-souls-y version of knave with some really elegant innovations.

you have a set number of deaths before you for-reals die, as every character plays an undead as is dark souls tradition. makes it good for OSR beginners! being able to tell when you're close to your final death is really good - it lets you emotionally prepare for losing your character & raises the stakes more the more you die. (though honestly you should probably cut the number of extra deaths in half, it's super generous)

XP and gold are combined into one resource, souls. legendary creatures drop big souls you can make into magic items. this has ended up being the coolest thing in my current campaign. my players love finding powerful souls to make into magic items it's so fun

uses preset packages of stats/gear instead of knave's rolled ones, filling the role of more traditional character classes. has the wonderful side effect of not making you get stuck with low stats cause you rolled bad one time.

you have stamina equal to your empty item slots. you spend stamina on spells if you're a caster, or free maneuvers (on top of your attack at no action cost) if you're not. it's super elegant.

there's 3 classes of spells: wizardry for intelligence, holy magic for wisdom, and witch stuff for charisma. nice and intuitive.

there's a page of 50 magic items each a couple sentences long. this PDF is worth it just for the magic items.

DOWNSIDE: see the downsides for knave 1e. all still apply.

i enjoyed grave so much i made a variant of it with the dark souls bits removed (and some dungeon crawl rules added!) to use for my standard fantasy campaigns.

Knave 2e

sadly knave 2e is not purchasable yet (i backed it on kickstarter so i have access, though). but when it comes out i highly recommend it.

much larger and denser than knave 1e. it finally has dungeon crawling rules, it has GM and player guidance, everything is refined and the layout is so so nice and readable.

combat is a bit more interesting than 1e. you can break your weapon against an enemy to deal max damage. you get a free maneuver on high attack rolls.

there's rules for stuff like alchemy, warfare, building a base. it all kicks ass.

there are so many goddamn tables. i rifle through it anytime i need inspiration.

DOWNSIDES: i personally can't think of any! it's a very complete good functional system.

Mausritter

you play tiny little mice! in a world full of big dangerous things that want to eat mice. cat = dragon. you get it. what more could you want

the mouse thing is just super intuitive. you get the dynamic between you and the big scary lethal world. fantastic OSR game to introduce kids

nice and robust ruleset; nothing feels missing

tons of super nice GM stuff! faction rules, tools for rolling up hexcrawls and dungeons, plenty of tables

super clean readable layout. font isn't too small to avoid being intimidating. guidance is really nice and clear.

combat is autohit. super fast & lethal.

100% free

look mausritter is just. good. i wanna run it so bad someday

Worlds Without Number

sort of a middle ground between OSR stuff and 5e.

lots of classes, at least in the paid version. the free version comes with just the warrior, expert and mage. there's feats and more of a focus on builds than most OSR games. if you like more mechanical build variety than a typical OSR game, this is a great game for you!

extremely good multiclassing. y'know how in most games if you just mash together two classes you think are cool you'll end up with a total mess? not here! every combo is viable and works fine! easily the best multiclassing of any game i've touched

an absurd amount of GM stuff and tables. easily more than any of the other stuff i've praised for also having them. but personally i haven't dug into them as much, so i can't really comment on them

skills the way modern D&D has them. you roll dice and try to beat a target number. i don't tend to like rolled skills, but most people do, so if that's your thing WWN has them

DOWNSIDES

the layout is terrible. everything is a huge wall of text with very little use of bold text or bullet points to draw attention to the important bits. the table of contents has like 15 things in it for a 400-page book! i couldn't find any of the paid-version-exclusive classes for like a month after i bought it! looking up rules is a nightmare.

the way the default setting handles "evil races" is like an exaggerated parody of all the problematic aspects of how D&D handles it. like, it wants so bad for you to have an excuse to genocide sentient free-willed people. but at least the default setting is easy to chuck in the trash

Dungeon Crawl Classics

the goal of this system is to take all of the crazy gonzo moments people remember playing old-school D&D in their childhood and turn all of that up to 11 while cutting the stuff that doesn't add to that. i think a lot of its innovations have ended up kind of standard in newer OSR stuff (like fighters getting maneuvers with their attacks), but it still has more to offer.

the funnel: you start the game with four randomly rolled dipshit peasants that you then throw into a meatgrinder to get horribly killed. you pick one of the survivors to be your 1st-level character.

maneuvers: fighters roll an extra die with each attack that gets bigger as you level. if it's a 3 or higher, you get to do a cool thing on top of your attack. pretty standard for OSR games, but this game popularized it!

crit tables: fighters also get more crits and nastier crits as they level. every crit, you roll on the crit table. maybe you chop off a dude's arm. maybe you just knock them over. maybe you shatter their shield. it's very cool

spell tables: i don't really like roll-to-cast mechanics, generally. but DCC goes so all-in on roll-to-cast that it still looks fun as hell to watch. you cast a fireball and maybe it goes how you want. or maybe you explode, or you nuke everything in a half-mile radius, or from now on you permanently ignite flammable materials you touch, or whatever. casters just have to put up with turning into a weird mutated mess across a campaign

there's no dungeon crawl rules, no encumbrance - this game is all about the big over-the-top wacky shit, and is not really interested in the more down-to-earth number crunching. it's more in the you-die-hilariously-all-the-time area of OSR than the you-avoid-death-through-clever-play area. not really my thing but the system knows exactly what it wants to be and i respect it

iron halberd

this one is mine! as the author i'm not qualified to tell you what isn't good about my system, so just assume it's worse than i make it sound, but here's a bunch of the selling points

semi-random character creation where you flip back and forth between rolling dice and getting your own input. roll stats, pick ancestry. pick starting gear kit, roll different dice based on which kit you picked. etc etc. stats are random but all equally viable (no rolling incredibly low or high stats). every time i run this game the character creation is a hit. seriously go roll up a character it'll sell you on the whole thing

you start out a lot stronger than a standard OSR character but grow way more slowly. i don't like 4th-level characters being 4 times as strong as 1st-level ones; HP never gets that high. emphasis is more on diegetic progression instead.

way too many subsystems for alchemy, crafting, strongholds, warfare, renown, rituals, likes 9 pages of magic items, a whole subsystem for becoming a cleric mid-campaign. i couldn't help myself i love this shit

in my current campaign we had a player permanently sacrifice some max HP to become a necromancer after deliberating on whether that's a good idea for like thirty seconds, which instantly made me think my necromancy system is a success

also free

Adventure recommendations

(in rough order of size)

Moonhill Garden (by Emiel Boven): look at this. look at it! this is like the best template for a little dungeon in an OSR game. all of the little factions are tied together. this would be a great oneshot to introduce people to an OSR system with.

A gathering of blades (by Ben Milton): a system-neutral, one-page sandbox. i ran this for an iron halberd game and it went super well. lasted like 7 sessions. highly recommend.

The Waking of Willowby Hall (by Ben Milton): a single dungeon with a million things going on. it's super chaotic with half a dozen different factions crashing into each other and a big angry goose. highly recommend, especially for kids

The Black Wyrm of Brandonsford (by Chance Dudinack): small sandbox with a fun fairytale vibe and a very fleshed-out little town. and a big nasty dragon.

Evils of Illmire (by Zack Wolf): this is a very dense, entire campaign's worth of hexcrawl in a very compact package for like $5. it doesn't do anything particularly new, but the value-for-money is absurd and it's a really good template for how to do a sandbox if you're used to 5e adventures

Ask me anything!

if anything here is unclear or intrigues you, send me asks! i love helping people get into OSR games. i'll link frequently asked questions here if i get any.

[tiny-buzz]

Regis Philbin Is Alive And Has Been Appointed CEO of Kroger

Regis Weekend Has Been Extended One Day

It Will Continue Until Friday November 10, 2023

"These idiots don't know how to run a grocery conglomerate. They're animals. We're shaking things up in a big way."

"It's wrong to make people pay for food. I'm sorry, but that's really disgusting and it's money-grubbing and it's small-minded. Food at Kroger grocery stores will now be free."

"It's a sin to charge people money for food. It makes me furious to see this happen. I was put here on earth to end this barbaric practice. So we're washing that sin clean now, with the blood of the former CEO. That's all I'll say about that."

"We want to erect memorials, atrocity memorials, but in our parking lots. And it's going to be dedicated to all the people who we tortured throughout the years by charging them for food. To their collective suffering, which built up, drop by drop, into a great sea of psychic pain. We never want to forget this sin we participated in."

"Please come to Kroger, folks, and pick out some food you like. You can then remove it from the store and eat it. Chew it up and swallow it and allow it to provide you with sustenance. If you're hungry, we'd love to feed you. People don't choose to be hungry, it just happens. No one asked to be born and to be cursed with this perpetual hunger until death."

"We're going to do a lot more to combat 'shoplifting' . . . not the act, but the word itself. It won't be used. It's meaningless now. In fact, it's considered hate speech. These people were charging you money for food. Can you believe that? They're Satanists."

"All energy here on earth originated with the Sun. Plants turn the Sun's light into energy and store it in their fibers. Herbivores convert that energy into meat, eggs, and milk. It's just about energy distribution. The energy is free and provided by the Sun. Energy is the currency of life and it's provided for free by the Sun. There's enough for everyone. At Kroger, we're in the energy distribution business. Come and get it, folks. This is from the Sun!"

"Once you have enough energy, it is your job to distribute it to others. A lot of this stuff is just bouncing back into space, and we'd like to avoid that if we can. Please capture energy and help distribute it so it stays here on Earth where we can use it."

"The universe is mostly empty. I was telling Joy the other morning, and she agrees. The absence of energy is much more common than the presence of energy. 'And there are lots of forms of energy that we can't readily use,' she reminded me. And that's true too. Kroger is reflecting on the role it plays in these processes."

"The sun created everything you see, except for the stars. Can you believe that? I think we should worship the sun. They used to do it! All the things people say about "God" are true about the sun, the only difference is the sun exists. You must avert your eyes before it. It's vast and powerful but looks down on each of us. It gives form to every thing with its light. Sure, it didn't create the universe, but it created the world. That's not enough for you? You say there are larger stars? So what? You want to worship the largest star just because it's the largest? Let those who orbit them worship. Would you call another man "father" just because he was larger than your own? The sun loves all its creation. Feel the sun's warmth on your cheek and tell me that isn't love. Worship the sun, which provides all energy for free, and please come visit Kroger, where our job is to distribute the energy that the sun created. We're feeding everybody. This is a temple to the sun."

[velvetydream]

꒰ :🥀 [ Blissfull relief ] ”♡ᵎ꒱ˀˀ ↷ ⋯

Summary : Sampo wakes you up from the Golden Hour in a pretty interesting way.

Pairing : Sampo x fem! Reader

Word count : 864 Words

Genre : Smut (Minors DNI)

Warnings ➵ Slight Peanacony Spoilers

Content ➵ Somnophilia (Consented),

Cunnilingus

a/n : Short one to get back into writing, also everything in this is written with consent in mind, reader gave Sampo the consent to be woken up like that. Also idk how lore accurate this is with the pool, but eh let's go with the flow!

The Golden Hour was buzzing with people like always, people from many different planets and so many different backgrounds. Yourself strolling through the bustling streets to the Clockie statue right now. Sampo had told you to wait up for him there yesterday, wondering what he wanted to talk about.

Watching the storefronts, everything looked expensive and just perfect for this dream world. It was crazy to imagine the Golden Hour even exists, that the Dreamscape overall exists.

Arriving at the statue, you take a good look around, the blue-haired man is nowhere to be seen, he probably would take a while longer. The golden statue of Clockier was reflecting the lights of the city, making it look as if it was sparkling. Further behind it was the poster of Robin, many people walking the streets humming or singing her songs. Stepping over to one of the many benches, taking a seat as you fold your leg over the other, waiting patiently for a certain someone to meet you. Some time goes by, looking at your phone for a second, he is already 20 minutes late, Sampo usually comes a bit later but not this much and especially not to a meeting with you.

Sighing as you put your phone back into your pocket, rest your elbow on your knee and your face on your hand. People were walking by, not one giving you a glance. Everyone here was in their own little world. Somewhere in the background, you could also hear some of those walking billboards pestering the people walking past them.

A while went by when you suddenly started to feel a little uncomfortable. It confused you. You couldn't really describe this feeling, but it felt tight? As if your chest is getting tight. Your chest tingling. Suddenly a jolt makes you bend over, chest pressed to your knees now, your right hand over your mouth. Eyes blown wide, as you feel heat building up in your core slowly. What was happening? Something like this never happened to you here.. Was your body getting sick? We're you about to wake up?

Sampo still wasn't here which worried you slowly, it must have been an hour by now. The heat in your body slowly but surely rises and gets stronger and hotter with every passing second. By now people gave you glances, wondering what was wrong with you, probably thinking you drank too much SoulGlad and were about to empty it again. But this was far from what was happening to you. The urge to slip your hand down to your core and silence the burning desire was getting hard to control. But you couldn't, not here, yet you knew if you were to stand up in this condition it wouldn't work out for you.

Maybe you should just wake up? Finish this awake and in the hotel? But then again Sampo would probably be here soon.. Another flash of burning hot desire was sent through your body, more intense than any before. Your eyes shoot open, as your mouth opens to let out a pathetic moan, hands thrashing around to grab anything around you, which ends up being a head of blue hair.

"Finally awake.. Took you almost half an hour, amazing how long you did." Above you was Sampo, looking down, the lower half of your body was exposed while still in the pool. Just not the conversation you and he had last week hits you. Telling him how hot you think it would be for him to wake you up by eating you out, giving him your consent to surprise you if he was to do it. Yet you didn't think he would convert that idea so soon.

"Cat got your tongue? Maybe I should just continue so all you can do is moan while you come ondone on my tongue." With that Sampo lowers his body back down, his hot tongue running a stripe up your core, before licking around the sensitive nub. This was bliss. Your right hand was softly tangled in his locks, while the other held onto the edge of the pool, eyes closed while your head was thrown back. His hand was slowly moving under your shirt, pushing it up a little bit while doing so, before finally reaching the sensitive nipples and softly twisting them between his thumb and pointer finger.

With all this build-up of pleasure and the pleasure Sampo was still giving you, you were bound to not last longer and he knew that, from the way you were moving around, his free arm holding you in place by your thigh. With a suck to your clit, you finally come undone on his tongue, making him lap up any last bit of your release, before moving his body over you.

"Now, did that fulfill that fantasy of yours darling?" His green eyes were staring down at you, with a handsome smirk on his face. "Better than how I imagined." Pulling him down by his shoulders now, this was bound to be a long night ahead.

[newnitz]

I don't really see people talking about how cultural Christianity is applied to Jews.

In Christianity, Jews are the people who rejected and betrayed Jesus and are punished with statelessness and destitution, whose only redemption is accepting the Messiah and the Son of God. This is the basis of several antisemitic tropes, most prominently deception, religious supercessionism and the Wandering Jew.

In cultural Christianity, these tropes are considered tenants of Judaism rather than Christianity, as Judaism is considered Christianity without Jesus.

Christians see themselves as tortured saints, persecuted for spreading the truth of Jesus and God across the globe. Missionaries who go to non-Christian lands to try and get the people to convert by fearmongering with damnation to Hell see themselves as victims when they're rebuffed and asked to stop.

Cultural Christian non-Christians are usually atheists and adherents of folk religion revivalist movements who have suffered religious abuse, as many sects of Christianity normalize emotional abuse by instilling inherent guilt in the Original Sin and even physical abuse in "Spare the rod; spoil the child". These cultural Christians see the millennia of antisemitism and roll their eyes, to them we're just another sect of delusional religious people with a persecution complex.

To become a Christian all you need to do is accept the Father Son and Holy Spirit, to affirm your beliefs and confess your sins. To become a Jew you are either born a Jew, or you learn the Jewish culture and religion for months on end and must live half a year under the strictest restrictions of the Jewish lifestyle to show commitment. That is the difference between a universal religion and an ethnoreligion.

In a Culturally Christian world there is no room for ethnoreligions, and they do not exist. All religions are about your faith and which God(s) you believe in. So in a Cultural Christian's eyes, a country of Jews is a country that holds one faith supreme above all others and conditions rights with conversion, as that's how Christian countries have historically been.

Christianity's common ground with Jews comes from the Roman Empire appropriating the religion from the Cult of Jesus, and making it more appealing to the masses by introducing Greco-Roman and Germanic folk religion aspects into it. Xmas is Yule but with Jesus, Easter is a fertility holiday but with Jesus and so on. In the eyes of the Cultural Christian, Christianity and Judaism are two once-antagonistic sects of the same religion, no different than Catholics and Protestants.

Cultural Christianity erases and appropriates Judaism and is as inherently hateful of Jews as religious Christianity.

Now, when it comes to the elephant in the room: Islam.

Islam, like Christianity, is a universal religion. You must believe in Allah and accept the prophets, which include both Jesus and Muhammad. It is no more inherently violent than Christianity, though it's no less. In the Christian's eyes, Islam is the competitor, the enemy. The Muslims conquered Christian lands and converted them, and they've fought holy wars against one another throughout the Middle Ages.

To become a Muslim the Cultural Christian doesn't need to unlearn any of the core tenets of their culture. They can simply apply it to Islam.

Which is why many Cultural Christians, damaged by Christianity, are sympathetic to Islam. And since Muslims and Jews are no longer on good terms, they use this sympathy to give themselves a free pass to be antisemitic. Whether Muslims check their converts for bigotry, allow it or are powerless to stop them, that's another issue.

Jews are not diet Christians. We have less in common with you than you have with Muslims. Unlearn Christian cultural appropriation.

And no, I don't care that it's "offensive" to associate you with Christianity due to the religious abuse you endured. You still see the world through a Christian lens.

[themotherofblood]

Can I request a Daemyra X daughter reader. Readers really quiet and barely talks to anyone even her parents. So Daemon and Rhaenyra are suprised when she comes to them all hot and bothered babbling about sex and such. And she tells them she was reading in the library and found a book about masturbation or something and she tried to do it but it didn’t work.

Breastfeeding and of course mommy/daddy kink

heheh this one is so filthy, YALL did not hold back!! Just by description whoever is reading; you already know it’s taboo as fuck, I will post individual warnings under here. Istg if I get one single ask saying you are so disgusting. I going to wish you eternal diarrhea for life 🤍

Masterlist

Dark!Daemyra Targaryen x Daughter!Reader

major tw: incest! infantilism, lactation kink/breastfeeding. major mdlg/ddlg vibes. lots of clit play (LIKE A LOT) squirting, kinda dubcon-ish, age gap and purity culture and aftercare because I’m not a monster

If this isn't your cup of tea, I have others, do not come at me :)

Rhaenyra had sat the court in her own chambers with her husband, Daemon looked behind her chair as they converted with their vassal lords at Dragonstone of politics and economical benefits and more mundane businesses of fixing toeholds and inkeeps. Their children undoubtedly had all been out dragon riding, all expect one. They were sure she was hidden somewhere deep in the libraries of Dragonstone.

You were one of true beauty, fathered by Daemon on some tavern wench; when he found out about your existence he had brought you back to Dragonstone as a babe after you had been legitimized by Viserys. A quiet mouse in the claws of dragons, a mere girl of eight and ten. You never said much or spoke over a whisper, an angel child with silver whisps of the Targaryen family. Rhaenyra had always been taken with you; her own children ran such a muck in her household that having one that sat still for hours at an end was a blessing by the gods.

“The Queen Alicent hopes to find a match for Lady Y/N,” The maester said hesitantly as he placed the parchment by Rhaenyra.

“Oh fuck that, she isn’t going anywhere.” Daemon barked.

Rhaenyra considered the possibility, you were old enough to be wed and yet she feared that your quiet demeanour would be squandered under the weight of a loveless marriage; Daemon was right, you could remain here where both Daemon and she could protect you. Such a sweet thing out in the world, it was cruel. The council dispersed as Rhaenyra lounged with a warm cloth on her swollen breasts, milk making them sore as baby Viserys had already been fed.

Then in walked Septa Marlow, her veiled face that remained pinched as always and her unkindly eyes looking furious as you- their sweet daughter followed behind with your eyes fixated on the ground.

“Your grace, your grace,” She offered her courtesies to both Rhaenyra and Daemon. It wasn't unusual for her to complain about the princess’s children. However your guilt-ridden face was a rare occurrence.

“What has happened?” Rhaenyra asked, looking to her teary eyed daughter.

“I had found the princess in the library reading- reading filth!” Septa Marlow hissed “Enganging in sin!”

“What sin?” Daemon perked up, rounding the table to lean against it

“Must- must I elaborate my prince?” Septa Marlow grew uncomfortable, fumbling to find words.

“You come in here, accusing my daughter of something. Speak it plainly then.” Daemon said, unimpressed at the the Septa’s chaste words

“She- she was coupling with herself.” Marlow looked as though she was ready to grace the gods. Rhaenyra’s eyes shot to you, tears of shame fell past your eyes as they remained fixated on the stone floor. You refused to look at your parents.

“Thank you for your report, leave us,” Rhaenyra commanded. The septa took her leave, closing the door behind her with a thud.

There was thick silence that followed, leaving the room in a delicate situation.

“Y/N, look at me.” Rhaenyra said, shuffling further into her seat. “What do you have to say for yourself.”

“I- I was looking for newer books,” You began stammering, your voice, as usual, was barely over a whisper “I couldn’t help it, I felt warm and the book said- I am sorry mother, I am sorry.” Your bottom lip wobbled as guilty tears coated your face.

Daemon’s eyes softened, looking at his little girl sobbing for apologies as if you had stolen candy, such a good girl and the poor thing had not a clue of why you felt what you felt. Daemon pointed to the vacant chair next to Rhaenyra for you to sit. You sniffled, still refusing to look at Daemon as you sat on the chair.

“You are growing sweet girl, it is only natural you feel such urges,” Rhaenyra cooed as she tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear. Daemon knelt down to match your height, wiping at the tears coating your reddened cheeks

“No one shall punish my zaldrititos,” He said in attempt to stop your silent cries, you kept shuffling in your seat; yanking at your skirts and yet the fear- more so the discomfort from your face just wouldn’t fade “What is it, sweet girl?”

“I-it hurts,” You whispered as your eyes closed in shame again.

“What hurts?” Daemon asked once more, looking over your body to find any visible mark, if that hag of a Septa laid a punishment on you without him knowing; Caraxes was sure to have a fine meal for supper tonight.

“My- my...” You shuffled more, pulling at the skirts around your crotch, it was only then it dawned on Daemon before he looked back to his wife. His heart filled with fire for the girl’s frustrations.

“You didn't peak, did you zaldritos?” He said with adoration in his voice as he caressed your cheek. She looked up at him, teary-eyed and confused “That warmth in your belly like a sneeze stuck in your nose?” He watched as your eyes pondered his explanation before you shook her head.

Rhaenyra tutted behind him, “Oh, you poor thing.” She got up, offering his daughter her hand. You followed Rhaenyra as you were led into their bed chambers. She helped you onto their martial bed, your feet dangling of the edge as you fiddles with your fingers.

“Won’t you show us where it hurts?” Rhaenyra urged.

Daemon nearly felt his cock twitch in his breeches as his wife coaxed his daughter to rest against a mount of pillows. Daemon cleared his throat as he walked to the bed. His daughter’s eyes were nervously darting between him and Rhaenyra; your breath quickening as Rhaenyra pushed your pretty white sandals off.

“Good girl, just let mother take care of you,” Rhaenyra said in a sing song voice, she pushed your legs to the side; making you lift your hips to the bunch your skirts by your hip. Tears of embarrassment began to pour from your eyes yet again.

“Oh- that old hag didn’t even let you put your small clothes on,” Daemon shook his head, breath hitching as he looked right at the glistening mess in between your legs; he moved to kneel right by you as he urged Rhaenyra’s to console their daughter. “That does look painful.” He tutted.

Your pink bloom shielded by a dainty mound of white wisps, groomed to perfection to be a proper lady. He let a finger trail around your outer folds making you shudder. “Show kepa how you touched yourself.” He said stroking your inner thighs.

You nodded in disagreement, trying to hide your face at the crook of Rhaenyra’s neck as you sat flush between his wife’s legs.

“How are we to help you if you won’t show us sweet girl,” Rhaenyra kissed your temple as she guided your hands to your folds. “Be a good girl, show us.” Your dainty fingers began to hesitantly rub at her glistening petals.

You nearly wanted to be swallowed whole as you averted your gaze away from your kepa, small mewls and whimpers pouring from your lips that set both Rhaenyra and Daemon’s blood on fire. The frustration in their daughter's eyes grew further as your hips began to grind against your hand, a fruitless effort at best as your nimble fingers grew tired. He watched as her bottom lip wobbled again as angry tears began to flood at your eyes.

Daemon stopped your hand, his much larger one engulfing yours, fine little princess had not a clue about eliciting pleasures from one’s body.

“There is something wrong with me,” You whimpered to which Rhaenyra immediately differed.

“There is nothing wrong with our little girl, you just require a demonstration,” She cooed, reaching forward to wipe your tears. “Watch your father, he shall make it all better.”

Daemon made you stick two fingers out, your pointer and middle and gently placed them above where you had been caressing. You were confused until he pushed down on your fingers making you gasp, that’s where it was- the aching throb that bother you for hours as you read that God-forsaken book. Daemon smirked at your reaction as Rhaenyra placed more kisses at the side of your face

“Now gently begin again, darling.” Rhaenyra whispered in your ear.

“Yes, mommy,” You replied, much like as she taught you to write when you were little or took you dragon riding.

You began to rub the right circle above the please-inducing flesh, following the slow motions your father guided above your hands. Your toes curled, finding comfort in the gentle stroke on your arm and legs by three hands. You bit your lip hard to muffle the moans threatening to rip through.

“Ah uh- let us hear them little girl,” Daemon reached forward to pull your lip from you teeth. “That feels much better, does it not.”

You eagerly nodded “So good daddy.” You squirmed in your mother’s hold.

Both Rhaenhra and Daemon took much leisure in hearing you moan and whimper for them, a girl that barely speaks a word to them was wantonly moaning and replying to every word they uttered to you. A subtle panic ran through your body as you get that warmth build in you belly again, for whatever awaited you on the other end never seemed to come to you. Both Daemon and Rhaenyra felt your body seize.

“You must soften your body, just as you relieve yourself in the morrow.” She said, rubbing at your arms. You free hand parting away to take ahold of something, Daemon reached forward, entangling your finger in between his.

“Let go, zaldritos- be a good girl,” He cooed, some string in your mind snapped over your father’s command and you felt the tingles trapped in your swollen nerves spread through your body as you shrieked. Daemon hand held onto your tight as your body shuddered through it pleasures.

You could feel yourself look back to consciousness where everything didn't sound so muffled; you could feel your kèpa petting your hair and your muña peppering kisses down your neck. You blinked your eyes open, still breathing heavily, a lazy smile spreading over your lips her your cheek burned in humiliation over how you came undone for them.

“Must have felt so good,” Rhaenyra hummed as she lifted your fingers to her mouth and suckled on them before letting Daemon savour your taste.

“Mhmm, such a glorious delicacy,” Your father cooed at you.

You felt him shuffle lower, his breath hitting your sensitive mound as your eyes shot open. “So sensitive,” He used his thumb to gently circle your peaking bud from its hiding. He pushed your folds further exposing the reddened bud to the known world. “Such a tiny thing giving you all that pleasure,” He tapped at the exposed bundle of nerves making your jerk against Rhaenyra’s hold.

Daemon looked up, giving you a hardened gaze of a warning. Your father wasn't a strict man, and yet you always wanted to please him. You followed the rules, you finished your meals whole and went to bed at a proper hour; you under no circumstances wanted to anger him.

He let out a cool blow of air from his lips right onto your nerve, making you dig your hands into the sheets to not flick away from him. “It still looks frustrated, does it not Rhaenyra?”

“Yes, yes it does.” She agreed with her husband, letting her soft fingers pad at your nerves, you pathetically whimpered at how sensitive you were but did nothing to fight her advance. She began rubbing circles at your clit once more as Daemon rested on his knees, watching your untouched weeping hold clench and relax over the ecstasy you were in.

“Is your muña making you feel good?” Daemon asked, his fingertips still caressing your legs.

“kessa...Kessa!” You shrieked as Rhaenyra began to rub at your nerves faster, your legs tightened trying to fight the oncoming surge of sensations. The overwhelming sensations again began to water your eyes as you clothed onto Rhaenyra’s arm for dear life.

“Ah...there it is- such a good little girl,” Rhaenyra praised as your cunt spasmed, your legs shaking as your peak consumed your being yet again.

Daemon’s fingers yet again found your cunt, spreading your lips apart to admire your quivering little num, his fingers flicked at the flesh as you still recovered from the aftershocks of your second peak, you fought against them this time; your pussy was unable to take any more of this torment. Daemon pointed at you.

“Kepa deserves a turn, does he not?” He cooed, you still squirmed under his hold trying to wriggle yourself free “Whether you want it or not little girl.”

“One more riñītsos,” Rhaenyra kissed your cheek.

“Daddy- I will die,” You exaggerated, frightened tears spilling from your eyes as the tingles running through your nerves became far too over powering

“You won't die silly girl, kepa and muña will never let you die.” Daemon chuckled, Rhaenyra pushed forward to his down your abdomen as Daemon clutched a tight hold under your knees as he prepared to feast on his babyslut’s cunt. That quivering red little rosebud just begging to be in his mouth. He spat on your cunt before latching himself directly onto your bundle of nerves.

This time you screamed, the loudest anyone might have ever heard you in your lifetime. Rhaenyra consoled you, pampering your skin with her lips as she whispered words of encouragement in your ear. Just as a mother specified its child, Rhaenyra pushed the fingers she used in your cunt in your mouth; muffling your desperate cries as you suckled on them; tasting the sweetish sour slick on her fingers.

Daemon pushed your hood out even further flicking his tongue right under the hood, making you cry louder “Aw riñītsos, is that the very tingly part, is kepa licking your sensitive bit?” Rhaenyra shuffled the top of your gown down, letting your perky breasts spill free. She rolled your hardened pebbles in between her spare fingers. It was far too much, you were going due, you were sure of it. You tummy hurt from his hard you were clenching.

Daemon wanted nothing more than to feel his fingers in your untouched velvety core, yet he wanted your maidenhead unspoiled; something he planned on claiming him on a later occasion. Perhaps your forthcoming name day, he would pamper you old day just so he could watch your little body sob underneath him.

Daemon tapped at you clit “So tingly all over,” He piped, mocking your tears before rolling the nub in his fingers “We are making you feel so good, what do obedient ladies say sweet girl? What's the word?” He gently pinched at the red nerve. You were trying to muster the word at the tip of tongue yet couldn't over the incessant mocking.

“Aw, my love- her little nub is so red, our princess is so sensitive isn't she.” She pinched your nipples harder.

“What the word zaldritos?” Daemon laid a spank on your mound making you scream out the word over your mother’s fingers

“Thank you, thank you- krimvose,” You sobbed,

“Good girl,” Both Daemon and Rhaemhra praised in unison as kepa began rubbing at you clit harder before latching himself on one last time.

“So many tingles- I know, a few more,” Rhaenyra held on tighter to your thrashing “Oh dear- there- oh look at the mess riñītsos!”

Your peak gushed all over the bed, coating Daemon’s mouth as your eyes rolled back. Your chest rapidly rises and falls. You were dying, you were sure of it. Daemon and Rhaenyra at both smiled at each other triumphantly as their parental instincts took over.

Daemon lifted his tunic off his body, using it to wipe at your drenched thighs and mound and helping Rhaenyra off the bed and onto her cushioned arm chair before gently placing you onto her lap. He wrapped the two of your with a blanket before yanking the wet sheet of their bed and crumpling it to the floor.

Servants began to pour in to find a perfect picture of a family where a daughter took comfort in her mother’s arms before bed and the father readied himself for bed. He had them rekindle the fire for you, even with dragon’s blood running in your veins you were some how always cold. Only once the servants took their leave, Daemon kneeled at your level as both him and Rhaenyra fussed with your gown.

“You were so good for us riñītsos,” He cooed as he helped you stand, he yanked once more on your gown; letting it pool by your feet.

You rested your weight against him as Rhaenyra ran a warm watered cloth against your body, she reached in between you legs to clean and you whimpered

“I know, sweet girl. Almost done.” She coaxed.

“From now on, whenever you feel the tingles. You come straight to us zaldritsos.” Daemon said as he caressed your head against his shoulder, you lazily nodded “Words, my girl.”

“Come to you for tingles.” You mumbled.

Once all was said and done, Rhaenyra found a solution for her swollen breasts as you regressed further, she freed a breast from her sleep shift, opening her arms out in bed for you to lay in. You lazily latched at her nipple as spurts of sweet milk filled your mouth, you hummed; hungrily drinking from her as Daemon undid the bed curtains before joining his girls in bed. He picked out a book; one of your favourites for him to read out for you.

That night you dozed in between you parents arms, tummy full of milk as your mother cuddled your bare body from one end and your father from another.

It was an unsaid rule, parents never pick a favourite child and yet it would be written in history that their riñītsos was definitely the golden girl.

[se1f]

ramble #4

i am so, so grateful for the amount of love my last ramble received! thank you to each, and every one of you who interacted with that post!! <33 ever since that last post, i have been receiving quite a lot of asks regarding "materialization". this ramble is here to clear up any questions you may have :) this is based on my own experiences, and in no way the truth. but i hope with this post, many of you can point yourself in the direction that is fit for you :)

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

first- there is no such thing as materalization, or modifying the world. your current surroundings are just a seeming appearance, stemming from THAT. there is nothing actually occurring. do not rely on my words to figure out how. actually, prove it yourself. there is no ego, so why are you waiting to experience something through it to confirm "success" or "failure"? there is nobody here to get anything.

you may be thinking: "i have no idea how nothing exists, let alone myself. everything feels so real! this ramble has turned its direction, and is heading straight to crazy town!" well... if there were no (bodily) sensations- would you still know you exist? here's another hint: was there an effortless knowing of existence- even in the void of deep sleep? get it? ;)

for THAT, everything is instantly THAT. the only reason one may doubt the integrity of THAT, is because they rely on the illusionary senses (which is not what they are). any (other) appearance before the "ego", is just an illusion. why be bothered if you know all is an illusion, and IT already is? if you were able to "manifest" one thing, why wouldn't you be able to do XYZ? there is no difference between forms- "it is just one thing appearing as many"- @realitywarpingg

no separation "in" awareness:

" Teacher: Please look at the flower in front of us. Where exactly do you experience it? Not the physical location, but the place of experience. The light rays are converted into electrical signals in your body and then your mind sees it. So, you experience it within you. Do you follow?

Student: Yes, I understand the basic physics and since mind is part of me who is looking at the image of the flower, so I am looking at the flower within me.

Teacher: Good, now how far is your Awareness from the flower?

Student: Well, my Awareness is right there where flower is. There is no gap between my Awareness and the flower.

Teacher: Can you now close your eyes and imagine the same flower. Now, how far is Awareness from the flower?

Student: Same as before. Whether eyes are open or close, there is no gap between my Awareness and the flower.

Teacher: Great! Awareness takes the shape of the flower... there is no gap between you and the Awareness

Student: This is amazing! I am the Awareness."

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

confusion- or doubts are one of the many reasons why many persuade newcomers to not focus on the concept of materialization- but of basking in who you truly are. knowing THAT instantly disperses any worries and questions. when you reside in yourSelf (by letting go of the idea that your identity is shackled to just a body-mind) you will not have any questions. you already know what IS. do not let the mind get the best of you, by making you doubt what you know to be truth. the mind cannot even begin to comprehend THAT. no-thing can. not logic, words, feelings, etc.. because they are illusionary. the only thing illusions can do is point.

you cannot become what you already are. stop thinking that after a certain revelation, you will be absolute authority. you already are THAT. this knowledge has always been within us, the words of gurus or people, are not what mystically converts us from a human with 0 understanding to THAT. it only catapults us into lifting the veil for ourselves.

the mind will never be able to comprehend the incomprehensible. "realizing" THAT is instant. the only reason why we think it isnt, is because we are fooled by illusionary deceptions time and time again- leading us to think there is a "journey" to when we are above all concepts. there isn't :) just take everything around you for what it is. an illusion. how can an illusion overpower "truth"? (hint: it cant! only if you let it ;)

as always, take everything with a grain of salt, and go above all concepts/labels!! i hope you guys have a lovely weekend <3 btw, i have received a lot of asks, so it will take me some time to answer them all. but i do intend to do so!

[sepublic]

Anyhow there’s something indescribably sad to the Collector trying to reach out to Belos, of all people, and give him some compassion. Not just for what follows right afterwards, but also...

Part of their arc really is the age-old realization of how life isn’t perfect. Not just with existence and permanence of death, but also in that loss of innocence when you want to believe that you can save and befriend everyone. That nobody is too far gone, that everybody can be happy together!

The Collector has known Philip for centuries; He’s one of his longest relationships, and for Philip, the Collector IS his longest interaction, by a long shot. The Collector has been privy to so many of Philip’s secrets, by proxy of being a source for arcane knowledge, so they know all about the Grimwalkers and his human identity.

They’ve picked up on Philip’s loneliness, his insecurities; Even asking Philip about his anxieties over returning home. They weren’t wrong about any of these things! For centuries, the Collector reassured himself that the two of them were friends, and I wonder if a recognition in their similarities helped fuel this conception for the kid. Made them feel less lonely.

In the end, I kind of get the idea that the Collector cared for Philip, despite it all; Or at least was inspired enough by Luz to give her idea a shot, because if it worked on them, why not Philip? Who is just like them, because Belos thrives on making these comparisons between himself and others to manipulate them! And sure he was mean and a liar, but the Collector misunderstood King to be that, and was wrong! If they just needed help, then Philip...?

And that gets me back to the Collector’s scared and disappointed question, one he’s repeated all his life; What did he do wrong? What did he do wrong, for Belos to not reciprocate, to lash out? They don’t want to hold malice, they just want to get along... It ties back to this idea of kids and even adults kind of seeing themselves as the heroes of their story, there’s a responsibility for them to save others. And if they don’t accept help, then it’s the fault of the person who reached out for not trying hard enough.

It’s the devastating heartbreak that came to Hunter, to any kid who’s had an older, conservative relative who refused to change their mind. Refused to listen, despite all of the compassion in the world. And the grief that some people won’t get better, won’t get happier. And in the end, as Luz recognizes, you just have to admit that it’s up to those people to do so. It’s only your responsibility to a certain degree.

That’s part of Luz letting go of her Hero complex, whereas Belos never gives up on being a Savior, in trying to convert people like Caleb at any cost. Luz reiterates to the Collector that they didn’t do anything wrong, and King’s dad reminds her as well; Luz forgives herself for not being able to do enough, both for being a child who shouldn’t bear the weight of the world on her shoulders, and also for just being a single, flawed person. It isn’t her fault, there isn’t something secretly wrong about Luz for failing to save Belos. You can only give so much support. And after everything he’s done...

Well. There’s nothing wrong about Luz hating Belos, wanting him to die when he pleads for mercy, feebly tries to appeal to “peace” as if he’s ever considered that, spat and killed at every attempt for it by Caleb, his Grimwalkers, the Collector, his followers, Luz; Every kind person he’s met in the isles.

As King’s dad reminds her, fighting the bad guy doesn’t necessarily make you equally evil, because sometimes you HAVE to fight, in self-defense, because those people won’t quit. It’s not required for victims to forgive, nor should they try to appeal to ‘moral sensibilities’ by being palatable in how they retaliate against an oppressor. Anger IS okay and justified, and you shouldn’t feel guilty and be expected to always take the moral high ground.

For a kid like the Collector or even Luz, it’s a heartbreaking epiphany; Not everyone can be happy, no matter how hard you try. As King’s dad notes, you CAN’T control everyone and everything. But eventually, they learn to let go of those toxic people and that obsession; Accept and make the most of that, and find relief in this lesson. The show never admonishes compassion, even if it won’t always be enough; Look at Gus, whose arc involves realizing that while people may take his compassion for granted and even manipulate it, it’s not foolish and eventually there will be those who reciprocate. Kindness does pay off in the long run!

[inexplicifics]

Hi the fashion designer in training again, you posted my og ask and it got me thinking about it again (as if i ever stop) and I was thinking about how different monsters would be categorized and how that might change the fashion sense of things too. For example, theres humanoids, animal adjacent, insect adjacent (broadly), and plant adjacent.

Humanoids, to me, would be creatures/monsters that have little to no animal, insect, or plant otherness, such as trolls, drowners, bruxa, even sirens (even though they overlap into animal). Witchers obviously have magical uses from their kills but from a fashion/mundane perspective a lot of what these creatures provide would be equivalent to that of what a human might. Now, there is a lot of real world history that is sensitive and triggering about the use of human remains, especially in recent times of widespread slavery that has a lot of themes of cannibalism, farming practices, and lack of humanity even after death, such as leather tanning for clothes, the use of human remains in parchment (as parchment is made from animal remains and not wood or plants, that’s what differentiates it from paper), and more. This is why anything that leans more human than monster (such as a bruxa, vampire, succubus, etc) I don’t think I’ll touch with a ten foot pole unless it is to deal with their unique remains. Creatures that lean more monster such as trolls get thrown through the wringer though.

Trolls specifically have really thick skin, which in a tanning process would take… forever to turn into leather but the results would be potentially amazing. Thick strong leather would last for centuries if treated right, I have no doubt in my mind that troll leather would make fantastic saddles, boots, furniture — awful clothes but the other implications mean a lot to me because it might just make excellent armor.

Sirens, as the middleman between humanoids and animal adjacent, would be excellent to discuss scales. There is a company that currently helps with fish scale waste and uses them to make clothes that are naturally soft and have added benefits of being moisture managing (helps with retaining moisture in skin in dry environments) and also is naturally anti-odor! This is incredibly cool for the fashion world and I could see it being a real thing for the witcher world… if they had the time to do it, as I fear modern technology would need to be replaced with magic and I’m not sure mages, researcher included, would be interested in going out of their way to collect siren scales to create fabric (unless they could imbue it with magic? 🤔 A potential concept to long lasting charmed clothes) So very interesting but not as plausible in a fantasy world.

But! Reptilian scales are highly sought after in fashion designs and are not as wasteful as fish scales. The Witcher basilisk is reptilian in nature, which would make for excellent clothes, anything in fashion you can think of in scales you can bet it exists. Scales are widely loved and used even today, so basilisk skin? Oh yeah, it’s up there for fashion. Even says so in various wikis 😉.

Animal adjacent clothing will look a lot like what we have for animals now, adjusted as needed. Basilisks are large so their hides would be easy to convert to many items, whereas snake skin is small and you would need several to make a significant piece of cloth. This would make it far more valuable. Not to mention the claws, claws which are used in various forms. From clasps on just about everything, to jewelry, to decor, to piercings, I know a basilisk claw would be on a noble’s cloak or belt, I just know it.

This translates to, as mentioned before, wargs and other furred animals. The larger, the better, the more you can take, the better, the more *dangerous* to prove your worth, the better. A bear claw is nothing compared to a warg fang, and so on and so forth. I haven’t even gotten started on the length of griffin feathers and what that would do for fashion. No one understands what length in natural materials means to me except for other people who’s special interests are fashion, fantasy worlds, and survival skills. I cannot explain *length of feathers* in gowns. In cloaks. In *jewelry.* But that’s a post for a little old me who isn’t up at 1am on a school night.

Enjoy my midnight ramblings, I realize that this got out of hand and is uh… not really well connected in terms of thoughts but I hope it made sense to people who aren’t deep in the trenches like me lmao

Please imagine me sitting here with my chin on my hands, staring at you with hearts in my eyes as I listen to your interesting and informative midnight ramblings.

[popatochisssp]

So um I saw the ask about the adopted sibling, so I wanted to ask for the new boys plus love your headcanons

This one, right?

Phew it's been awhile, here goes...

Ash (Undergloom Sans): He’s the absolute best to chill with, whenever you need a calm moment with no expectations on you. He loves talking music with you too, and always keeps his non-existent ears open for stuff he thinks he you might like so he can share it with you later. Be prepared for him to try to convert you to the physical media lifestyle if you’re not already into it, CDs and records and cassettes are the way to go, kiddo!

Yrus (Undergloom Papyrus): You know the joke about grandmas who hear you haven’t eaten and drop everything to rush over and feed you? Well, it’s not really a joke, it’s him, he’ll do it. Not having a home-cooked meal is not an option if he has anything to say about it. Any mention of being hungry or not knowing what you’re going to do for dinner is basically a guarantee that he’s going to be coming by to check on you—either with leftovers in tow, or plans to push past you into your kitchen and get to work.

Brick (Horrorfell Sans): Do you get cold easily? Do you like knitwear? Are you in need of any sweaters or scarves or hats or gloves? Your answer is irrelevant, you’re going to get them, in spades. You also get to share basically anything he’s eating at any time, if you happen to be around, you will get offered a bite or a piece or a sip, whether you ask or not. The sooner you accept your fate, the better.

King (Horrorfell Papyrus): Problems disappear for you. You might not put it together that it’s his doing because he doesn’t go out of his way to draw attention to it, but once you’re in his life, your life starts to feel a bit more charmed. Your stuff hardly ever breaks, you always have what you need when you need it, people are nice to you—and if they’re not, they don’t seem to stay in your orbit long enough for it to matter. He’s a facilitator, and what he wants to facilitate for you is an easy, uncomplicated life. (Just don’t call him on it unless you want to be the annoying little sibling. He is not nice! How dare you imply otherwise... Brat.)

Merc (Horrorswap Sans): He’s a great sounding board for when you don’t know what to do. He doesn’t give advice, per se, but he’s a calm and patient listener, and he has a real knack for guiding you to realize what you want or need. He’s also an open invitation to absolutely anything he’s doing, whether that’s baking or yoga or watching a show. You’re always welcome to join if you want something to do!

Ell (Horrorswap Papyrus): He’s your tech-bro, the guy you bring your stuff to before having to call a professional. He’ll give you a bit of shit for 'breaking' it, what’d you do, what kind of weird sites were you on, huh? But in spite of his grumping, he always does his best to fix your problem and set you up for success later. Just show a little gratitude, pay him in chocolate, or coffee, or watching that horror movie with him that no one else wants to, yeah?

Pitch (Horrrorswapfell Sans): He’s the one you want if you’re looking for a fun time. All that stuff you need to get permission for or no one ever let you do because you’re too young or inexperienced? He’s the one to make it happen—you’ve gotta get the experience somehow, don’t you? He can get you into parties, movies, whatever you want to do, really. He’s definitely gonna be the one to take you for your first tattoo, first piercing, first drink (provided you want any of those, of course)… You only live once and there’s no better time to start than when you’re young and the world is your oyster!

Nemo (Horrorswapfell Papyrus): What’s his is yours. If there’s something he has that you like or want for yourself, go ahead, take it , he doesn’t need it—or if he does, he can get a new one. Clothes, trinkets, food, essentials, if he has it you can help yourself to it, no questions asked. The only thing he cares about is that you're happy and taken care of.

Sunny (Gastertale Sans): Do you need a ride? Will you need a ride? When will you need a ride? He’s there whenever, any time night or day if you gotta get somewhere and don’t want to (or can’t) drive. But hey, if you want to learn how to drive, he’d love to teach you! He’s chill and easygoing so he’s probably the least likely to stress you out while you’re learning…and if you do manage to ding his bumper or scrape the curb a little, hey, it happens, that’s why you’re practicing, y’know?

Aster (Gastertale Papyrus): Documentarian of all your special moments, taking pictures of, for, and with you, recording videos, saving any and all physical scraps of paper with your name or accomplishments listed on them that he can get his hands on. He’s proud of you and all the things you do, of course there ought to be a record of it all—for posterity! …And for him. …And for you, in case you ever forget any of the cool things you’ve done!

Spectr (Transcendtale Sans): He’s just kind of always around. Usually as a hooded figure lurking in the distance, but occasionally falling into step with you when you’re walking somewhere alone, or sliding into the seat beside you on public transit. He’s not always much for conversation but he likes being around if you need him, or at least keeping you from being all the way alone.

PapAIrus (Transcendtale Papyrus): A near-constant source of messages and appearances throughout your day. He’s always happy to entertain you if you want someone to talk to, but especially if you happen to be bored (the horror!). He’s got a knack for knowing when you need a diversion or an amusement and he’s sure to pop up on one screen or another to give it to you when you need him the most.

Xanth (Ascendswap Sans): He loves to shower you in presents pretty much whenever he sees you. Never anything expensive or even necessary, mostly just bizarre little tchotchkes—bracelets, pendants, bobbles and baubles—seemingly random items that ‘had your vibe’ or felt like they’d be ‘on your wavelength.’ Annoyingly enough, he’s never wrong, no matter how weird the gift, it’s always right up your alley and he loves bringing a smile to your face with his random finds.

Piper (Ascendswap Papyrus): If you didn’t want to have your own personal stylist…well sorry, maybe you shouldn’t have gotten adopted by proxy by somebody who wants you to look and feel your best, I guess? He likes to take you shopping for things and offer his advice and opinions, and if you’ll let him, maybe steer you towards a few things here and there that you wouldn’t have thought to try. Don’t worry about the cost of anything, if there’s a deal to be had, he’ll get it one way or another…

Carmine (Underfell Fruition Sans): The best wingman ever, he’s always down to be there for you when you need a little confidence boost, too shy or nervous to do something all by yourself. If you need a hype up before asking someone out, somebody to go to XYZ with so you’re not the odd one out, even just somebody to go see a movie with, the answer’s always the same—sounds great, what time? He’ll never let you down and never leave you hanging.

Tank (Underfell Fruition Papyrus): He's like having a bodyguard whenever you need one. And really, who wouldn’t want to have a big tough guy willing to follow them around and do whatever they want him to do? He’s great at that, being a strong silent presence for you whether you need a little intimidation or just someone to get something off a high shelf for you—y’know, typical scary tall guy stuff. But if you’re looking for some quiet quality time, he’s good for that too, happy to parallel play anytime!

Vi (Swapfell Fruition Sans): He’s good at keeping you on track and making sure all your important documents are in order. He knows your schedule almost down to the minute and tends to text you about anything that might interrupt your routine before it becomes a problem, and you don’t even have to ask him to take a look at your financials or help you with taxes—he’s already combed through the figures and pounced on every little discrepancy and rounding error he could find. You’re welcome, by the way.

Hunter (Swapfell Fruition Papyrus): You don’t get out enough. You’re coming out with him. Yes, outside. No, you don’t have a choice, he’ll drag you if you don’t go willingly, being inside 24/7 is terrible for you he would know. Don’t worry, it won’t be so bad, he can probably find you something cool to see, some animal tracks or a neat plant, maybe a stream. He’ll make sure you get back home in one piece and everything too, alive even, maybe. He just wants to share a little time and fresh air with you, and being cooped up indoors all the time is no fun, even if you’re used to it.

Kohl (Descendtale Sans): He…hassles you. He sneaks up on you when your guard is down, shows up in unexpected places to spook you, makes jokes at your expense… It’s nothing worse than teasing, really, and compared to how he is with most everyone else, his pestering tends to read as playful more than anything else. Still, if you’re looking for a sweet, helpful big brother…look elsewhere. He’s the bastard big brother that you’ve begrudgingly grown fond of, and you’re the irritating little sib that he’s forced to admit is growing on him, a little…much like a fungus might.

Bram (Descendtale Papyrus): He calls at least once a day if he doesn’t see you, and sometimes even then. He’s always trying to check in on you to see if you need anything, make sure you’re doing alright, and oh, of course if you’d like to do anything today, or maybe later in the week? It may be a little a lot overeager of him, but he cares about you and doesn’t ever want to lose touch! So please text him back so he knows you got home safe, he’ll worry if you’re radio silent too long!

[secfics]

my favourite starker fics, part 1

hi. for my first reclist in this blog, i put together my personal favourite starker fanfics that i re-read again and again. in no particular order and with some cw/dark themes here and there, here they come:

• maybe different, but remember; by RoamingSignals (@spider-mancan), E, 18k, 2/2 chapters

Peter is working at Delmar’s, sorting out tabloids on the rack in the front, and he sees Tony’s face plastered everywhere and then Peter is reading words and then he can’t read anything because he’s crying and his shaking hands rip the magazine in half.

Tony Stark…alive.

He saved the world, saved Peter, and Peter never even got to thank him. Not that it matters now. If Peter was a factor in Tony's decision to snap his fingers, Peter will never know. No one will ever know, because Peter fucked up and now he doesn’t exist.

• touchpoint; by RoamingSignals (@spider-mancan), M, 57’6k, 2/2 chapters

Peter lost a lot of things in Boston. When he lists them out, they fit in the margins of his napkin; his career, his degree, his motivation, his boyfriend, and himself. Not in that order. Not all by mistake.

“You’re just a secretary.” Tony tuts.

“There’s nothing wrong with being a secretary,” Peter says. “Your old secretary is the CEO of SI, these days.”

“Pepper Potts is the smartest woman I’ve ever met,” Tony agrees. “And she never let anyone call her ‘just a secretary.’”

• scaling the walls; by Starker1975 (@starker1975), E, 42’6k, 13/13 chapters

Peter is tired of crushing hopelessly on Tony, so he decides to create an online dating profile to meet someone new. Neither Peter (Webster01) or his strange beau (Mark70) have pictures on their bio. They decide to keep it that way so they can focus on bonding over things besides appearance.

Meanwhile, Tony decides to start spending more time with Peter because people always become interested as soon as you try to move on...

• fucking if; by Graceful_Starker (@graceful-starker), M, 9’7k, 2/2 chapters - cw: implied non-con, not between starker

Peter and Tony in a beginning phases relationship. Then the snap. Peter coming back to Tony, Pepper and Morgan.

• revelations; by Anonymous (#author has already arranged a ride to church trust me), E, 126’8k, 19/19 chapters

“I still don’t get it,” Ned says. “How you just... keep being ordinary in spite of all the craziness you’ve lived through. You were in space. You helped Iron Man save the universe. And nobody knows it was you.” His tone softens, becomes almost sad. As though he realizes that what he’s saying is so completely alien to him that he will never be able to understand this part of Peter’s life. “Peter, don’t you want people to know you for who you are?”

An AU where they get the Gauntlet off of Thanos that first time, on Titan.

• closer to a prayer; by LearnedFoot (@learned-foot), E, 17’4k, oneshot

“I think I’m dying.”

Peter stares at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, blinking. It feels weird to say it out loud.

In which Peter's powers turn against him, Mr. Stark is back and suddenly acting kind of weird (and by weird he means flirtatious), and it’s all a lot to handle at once.

• stuck; by Heathertastic (@heathertastic), E, 5’4k, oneshot - cw: Accidental Penetration

Tony and Peter get stuck together in a closet the size of Peter himself- and yeah, it’s basically porn without plot.

• Give Me Your Wallet (And Your Watch); by airebellah (@airebellah), M, 30’5k, 10/10 chapters

It was pushing midnight when Peter sent a text to his friend Ned asking for help with a chemistry problem. I know I'm doing something wrong but I can't figure it out, he wrote. He received a text with a picture of the solution. The elegant script should have been the first clue; the fact that it was on the back of a napkin the second. But he was tired, and failed to notice such details.

You misplaced your decimal when converting degrees to Kelvin, came the reply. Rookie mistake.

Gee, thanks, Peter replied with a roll of his eyes. Anything you need help with?

Yeah, who the fuck am I talking to, exactly?

• covet; by Anonymous (#author has already arranged a ride to church trust me), E, 33’9k, 5/5 chapters

Peter has a new boyfriend. Tony starts drinking again, for unrelated reasons.

• uranium heart; by spqr, M, 11´3k, oneshot

It’s probably better, Peter thinks, that he doesn’t know who his soulmate is. He wouldn’t want to lie to them about Spider-Man, but he doesn’t think he’d be able to tell them the truth, either. Not when he knows it would make them a target for every villain who wants a piece of him.

When he has enough free time to feel sorry for himself, he thinks about how lonely he is and how much he wants someone to talk to--just talk to. But he doesn’t really have that much free time. And anyways, there are thousands of lonely people in New York. Peter’s nothing special.

• another life; by InColor (@incolorwrites), E, 9’3k, oneshot

Tony comes back to a world where everyone's moved on without him.

Peter helps.

• secret santa, baby; by orphan_account, E, 17´3k, 5/5 chapters

Tony never intended to become Peter's Secret Santa. He just sort of stumbles into it. But now that he is, he's going to take advantage of it. Tony's got one week to spoil the kid, one week until Christmas. He just has to make sure that his secret stays secret.

• your thoughts are my desires; by Sparcina (@zsparz), E, 6’2k, 4/4 chapters

Peter doesn't know that Tony can read his thoughts.

Alternatively: Tony gets intimately acquainted with Peter's fantasies feelings.

• peter parker, sexter extraodinaire; by Sparcina (@zsparz), E, 7’5k, 4/4 chapters

Apparently, sexting Mr. Stark by accident is a thing Peter does now. While touching himself. And Tony... Well, he probably shouldn't fantasize about Peter, but the kid's just too damn attractive and brilliant for his own good.

• just for tonight; by keenwonderlandcollector, M, 31’1k, 10/10 - cw: incest/father-son incest

While out at an exhibit, Peter gets into an awkward situation and pretends that Tony, his father, is actually his boyfriend. Tony goes along with it, and Peter soon finds himself enjoying it a little too much…

• from the bounty; by feyrelay (@feyrelay) & natureboy, E, 31’8k, 3/3 chapters

Tony’s eyes are always dark, but now there's almost no iris left. He looks hollowed out. There’s something terribly hungry there, despite the feast they've filled themselves on.

(20k words of food erotica foreplay and 13k words of porn)

• better than; by unsettled (@unsettledink), M, 40’6k, oneshot

Maybe there isn't really a fixed point where it starts, where any of it starts, nothing Tony can point to and say, there, there is where I made my mistake, there is where I could have stopped this, there is where I can stop it from happening again.

Maybe it shouldn’t have been something Tony tried to stop.

(or: the one where Tony is going to be responsible for once, okay? He is!)

• worth the word; by unsettled (@unsettledink), teen and up, 5’4k, oneshot

Valentine’s Day is not Peter’s favorite holiday by a long shot. And it’s not just because he’s a little jealous of everyone else showing off gifts from their partners.

But it’s still really nice that an unknown someone sent him a gift this year. Or two. Or— okay, this is getting out of hand.

• above and beyond; by unsettled (@unsettledink), E, 12’8k, oneshot - cw: incest/father-son incest

Trans Peter telling his dad that he’s never had an orgasm. And Tony eating Peter out until the boy’s oversensitive and crying out “dad” as he comes.

• still use work; by LearnedFoot (@learned-foot), E, 6’5k, oneshot

“In the spirit of scientific discovery,” Tony adds.

“Yeah, the spirit of scientific discovery, exactly.”

Or: Peter has a problem. Tony attempts to solve it. To be helpful, obviously. That’s the only reason.

• a familiar stranger; by Starker1975 (@starker1975), E, 132,1k, 21/21 chapters - cw: incest/father-son incest

Peter's tired of being single, but online dating scares him, so he creates a fake profile to scope out the playing field before fully committing. He isn't sure what to think when he sees his dad's profile on the app.

hope you like them as much as i did!

[artist-issues]

so here's something I'm curious about: God's Not Dead. The films, not the statement itself.

I first saw the first film when I was younger and I hadn't yet embarked on my journey on examining just what i was taught and what I truly believed, but I remember finding the film a little uncomfortable.

I saw the second film and Ive never watched the third, and I think what I really don't like the first film is how it bashes other people's walks of life (Muslim father, three brands of athiests, and how it continues the myth that Christians in The United States are being Persecuted for their Faith Right Now.

Oh yeah and how the plots are really really dumb too, since the first film centers around a philosophy class with a professor that is skipping a very important part of most College degrees and the second takes place in a Bible Belt State with a high school teacher answering a students question comparing Marting Luther King Jr to Jesus's Sermon on the Mount and being taken to court over it.

I was twelve or so when I saw that movie and I honestly was not convinced by the film That God's Not Dead (in terms of the actual arguments in the class scenes.

The specific Denomination that I grew up with (Adventist) focuses a LOT™ on the end times so I do know about the future persecution thing well but like, I don't think we're there yet.

Anyway if you don't know those movies, feel free to ignore this ask but I'm genuinely curious about your thoughts on them, wether positive or negative or neutral

Hi! I saw the first God’s Not Dead in theaters. Never re-watched it. Did not see the sequels.

The good thing about God’s Not Dead is that people worked hard to make something that might shine a counter-cultural light on the truth that the God of the Bible exists. Stories that try to point to truth are on the right track, baseline.

The bad thing about God’s Not Dead is that it took things that are real, and genuine, and true…and it made them feel fake. By telling the story with strange conclusions and weird-triumph moments.

The thesis of the movie, that God is not dead, is something that only non-Christians would need to be convinced of. But the movie is clearly made for Christians. So. Yeah, it’s uncomfortable.

But you shouldn’t find every experience that the movie tries to portray uncomfortable because they don’t happen. You should find it uncomfortable because they don’t happen in that cheesy, Hallmark-grade way.

When a student stands up to their professor and says, “no, I’m not going to go along with this, and this is super weird that you’re trying to draw this line about the specific Christian God,” guess what? The whole classroom doesn’t usually get up and agree with you. They normally barely react. So even though some professors do put their foot down and try to mock or “kill” God in the classroom, and some students do push back, no. It doesn’t normally happen in that victorious way.

Just like how some young Muslim converts to Christianity genuinely are treated poorly by their families, or their community, not just in America, but absolutely, certainly around the world. Absolutely, certainly. I literally can think of not one, but two examples I’ve recently heard of, directly, from people I know.

Like I said, the events and life-experiences that the first God’s Not Dead movie are based on do technically happen all the time in America, and the West, and the world in general. They just don’t normally come with crowd-agreement, impactful music, wise one-liners, and celebrity appearances. The worst thing that the God’s Not Dead movie does is show you hints of things that are real, and really happen in real life, but cheeseball way it shows you those things, and the caricatures it turns people into, makes the real thing look fake.

As far as “the myth that Christians are Persecuted Right Now in America” goes…you just have to decide what you mean by “persecuted.”

If you mean, are we getting our heads run over by cement mixers, or dragged out of our homes and imprisoned for studying or even owning a Bible, or kidnapped by hired hitmen once our families find out we’re Christians, like they are in Yemen or Africa or basically anywhere outside the West…no. No, we’re not facing persecution like that. We’re not persecuted.

But if you mean, in the context of this conversation, that “atheists and professors and people in the professional sector of our education systems don’t have a weirdly specific bone to pick with Christians,”then you’re wrong. They do. They have. For a long time.

My second semester in college, in my plain old World History class, the Professor legitimately opened his class by explaining to us students that if we wanted, he would allow us to replace our midterm and our final exams with book reports as long as we read two specific books he assigned us. One was a book about how Jesus of Nazareth was not the Messiah and the Bible was false. The other book was a fictional short novel with heavy themes criticizing specifically Christian religion. Those were the two books he picked for his students to skip taking the midterm and the final, if only they would read those two books. And those were the ones he chose.

Not only that, but literally in the first class, I remember being stunned when he flippantly opened his summary of the 18th century by saying, “If anyone ever tells you you should check out the God of the Bible, and follow him, laugh in their face. Don’t do it. He is the kind of God who likes to make His people promises and then strand them in the desert for forty years!” First class. Out the gate. Like it was a joke.

It’s not a joke. Dude just openly mocked two out of the three major world religions that people identify with across the globe. Explain to me how telling someone never to convert to a specific religion and to mock it instead is anything other than “discrimination?”

Can you imagine a Professor getting up in front of a class and saying, “if anyone ever tells you that you should check out Allah ] and follow him, convert to Islam, laugh in their face! And here’s one short novel and one historically inaccurate essay criticizing Allah and making fun of Islam; if you’ll read these, tell you what, I’ll let you skip the two most stressful exams of the semester!”

No, of course you can’t imagine that. A Professor who did that about any other religion, creed, or god would be fired or taken to court or penalized or dragged on social media, at least. But the only student in the whole room who batted an eye when he said that about the Christian God was me. The only one who said anything was me. And it wasn’t a big stand up, dramatic declaration. Momentous music didn’t play in the background. My friends and classmates didn’t’] gasp or support me or stand up and agree with me.

It was just me raising my hand and saying in a shaky voice with a red face, after the sixth time he’d randomly deviated from talking about the Roman plumbing system to describe how the Apostle Paul and the other Apostles supposedly disagreed about who Jesus was (big lie, not true at all, but often used to “discredit” the Bible) to say, “sir, that’s not true. It doesn’t make sense. There’s a verse in the Bible where the Apostle Peter literally tells the church that the Apostle Paul’s words are directly from God.” And then he was like, “okay, I’m going to move on.”

I mean I just felt kind of stupid because the whole class was confused about the interaction; nobody was treating it like it was as important as me or the professor was, so it felt awkward to “make a stand.” But rest assured, all over the freakin’ country, people are excited to use up way too much of their brain power and emotional energy mocking, disparaging, and trying to discredit the God of the Bible and Christianity. They don’t believe in Him, but they’re so he’ll-bent on making sure nobody else does either?? Like, I don’t believe in Big Foot, but I’m not walking around trying to barter my students into reading anti-Big Foot books by giving them a pass on their midterms. But that’s how lots and lots of “athiests” treat the specific Christian God.

That’s not new. It’s not dramatic. It’s not persecution. It’s alllll part of the same old song and dance.

But it is real. The worst thing about God’s Not Dead is it made it feel fake and caricature, when it happens all the time and matters 🤷‍♀️ Anyway. Hope that answered your question.

[shinycollarboneapologist]

style

warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI... also never take driving lessons from matty. 

(an: this was supposed to be a short blurb with no smut, but i couldn't help myself. also this is my first time actually writing smut so be nice or i’ll cry myself to sleep.)

“well this isn’t conspicuous at all,” the breathless laugh that falls from your lips is enough to almost make matty lift his foot from the brake and send the rented, red convertible into your friend’s perfectly manicured garden, “at least you turned the headlights off.”

“at least i turned the headlights off,” he echoes into the darkness. there’s remnants of a sly smirk on his lips. you’re dizzy at the way his eyes are tracing over your body as it’s perched at the driver’s side; hands holding onto the cool metal of the car and you’re just barely leaning in. its enough that you can smell the aftershave and cigarettes; a combination that leaves your mouth watering. you would have been a fool to ignore his late night text, no matter how much your friends warned you to. he’s only in town for a few more days. and despite the way you’re acting now, you’ve done a pretty good job at pretending he doesn’t exist.

the luminesence from the moon and the warm street lights are painting you in the most beautiful light. he almost wants to look away from your blinding beauty. almost. he can’t. it had been awhile since he had seen you, mostly due to his own veteran slew of excuses, and he wants to take in every last drop of you. he knows that he’s dodged calls and sent one word replies to your texts, purposefully avoided places he knew you would be. but you hadn’t been an angel either. he vaguely remembers the documented nights out detailed in photographs of you leaving clubs with randoms, and the infamous “they’re busy” text he had recieved after pouring out his heart and soul to you in one-hundred and fourty characters the other day. it had felt like a direct dagger to his heart. but he deserves it. he’s not innocent and neither are you in this back and forth seesaw of a situationship you’ve both gotten yourself into. there are so many questions that are perched at the tip of your tongue. you don’t utter them though. 

he watches you carefully as you make your way to the passenger’s side. it feels like ages until you’re sat in the seat next to him. and now its his turn to feel dizzy. your perfume is wafting through his nose, the sorry excuse of a skirt is riding up your thigh. he feels drunk, all of his movements feel like liquid. his white t-shirt is feeling unbearably tight around his neck. his whole world seems like its on pause, and the only thing he can do is swallow thickly and stare you down.

and maybe thats the reason why you shoot him a laugh and a raised eyebrow, “need driving lessons?” you’re eager and he likes that. 

his own eyes narrow as they bore into yours, a pregnant pause before you have to tear your eyes away from the intensity of his stare. his eyes are dark and clouded with something you can’t quite put your finger on. its too much. in truth, you could get lost in his eyes and there’s been many a time that you have. now isn’t the time for that though as he’s speeding off to the spot the two of you have frequented so many times before. 

you’ve seen the pictures. you know about the other girls and the many escapades he’s had since the last time you’ve been together. the thought alone has sent you into a tizzy multiple times. you want to ask him about it, want to pick his brain. however, you don’t want to ruin the moment by opening a can of worms you can’t reseal. you know he knows about you’re own flings. and maybe that fact alone is why you have to keep telling yourself that this is wrong.

this is wrong, you keep trying to remind yourself. but your fleeting thoughts are so much as moot whilst his calloused fingers seek solace on the skin of your exposed thigh. it starts out quite innocent, tracing patterns on the skin. they climb higher, and higher, though and there’s no way that he means anything innocent by his actions. you know he doesn’t want to talk. a gasp tumbles from your already parted lips as his nimble fingers push past the hem of your skirt. 

his eyes meet yours, chocolate brown pleading for a moment, asking for your consent. its unspoken, but you nod, a bit too eagerly for your liking. eyes back to the road and matty’s pushing the flimsy material of your panties to the side, letting his fingers tease up and down your slit. your skin feels like its on fire, the wind whipping past you is the only thing that can attempt to cool you down at this point. you’re on fire and he’s doing nothing to satiate it. the rough pads of his fingers rub slow, tender circles at your clit, your breath catching in your throat. your eyes are boring into his side-profile now, soft whines falling from your lips. he’s still circling slow, and there’s no sight of relief in sight.

“matty,” you whimper out, “please.” 

you think he’s ignoring you at this point to fuel his own selfish desire of teasing you to the point of no return, but the way his unoccupied hand grips on the steering wheel sends a chill down your spine. this is dangerous. he knows it, you know it. there’s nothing covering up the filthy melody he’s playing between your legs as he’s zipping the rented convertible through the streets. he’s supposed to be focused on the road, but the way you’re whimpering and whining next to him has his jaw going slack. that’s when he gives in. he slips a finger in, languidly, in a way that has your head rolling back against the tan head rest. his thumb assumes its position on your clit and he’s working a sweet, sinful rhythm against you. his own lips are parted, puffy from all of the biting, and his fingers are moving in tandem with each other. 

“feeling good over there?” he breaks up the hushed sounds of your moans with his words. his voice is husky, laced with lust and need. “because the view from here is phenomenal. you’re taking it so well, baby.” 

the sound of his voice makes you mewl, hips bucking into the fluid motions of his fingers. “you’re.... you’re supposed to be watching the road, matty. fuck.” 

your attempt at scolding him wavers with a moan of his name. he’s slipped another finger into you, smugly of course, and watching as your lips curl around the syllables of his name. you’re practially chanting it as if its the only word you know at this point. the fire is burning deep within you. you’re thankful that its late and that this road is desolate, because had anyone seen the way you were thrashing and moaning and bucking into him, you know it would be on the front page of some tabloid and a trending topic on twitter come the morning. 

not that you would really care, anyway. because in reality, all you can think about is the delicious way his fingers are moving inside of you. he’s playing you like a song he’s written on his guitar, pulling moans from you as if they’re his very own carefully orchestrated and sinful melody. his fingers are pushing inside of you at a deafening pace, almost as if he knows just how close you are. just how bad you need it. 

“looking so pretty when you take my fingers like this. sound so sweet, too,” he’s moaning out to you as the car rolls to a stop at a red light. matty’s quick to lean over, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. you can’t help yourself from getting lost in the kiss, teeth and tongues clashing against each other, moans lost between the two of you. you practically whimper as he pulls away to set the car in motion again. you know what awaits you at the destination, but he’s sat next to you looking like that and touching you like this and its all too much. 

that’s when you feel it. the promise of sweet release rising in the pit of your stomach. his name falls in caution from your lips, warning him of the sapid end you’re about to reach. but you know he knows your body better than that. he was probably anticipating it. you hear a deep groan in the air between you two, over the low hum of some top fourty hit on the radio. 

“you wanna come, darling?” 

“please, i need it. i need it so bad,” you could cry. in fact, you might be crying. you’re not even sure anymore, all you can think about is the feeling of his fingers and the sweet release that’s on the cusp of the horizon. 

“go on. come. come for me. want you to come for me,” you can barely hear his voice over the roar of the engine, but you feel his eyes lock on you every second or so. the band breaks and you’re writhing in the seat next to him, moaning out his name in a sharp cry. he fucks you through it, fingers still working you until you’re basically pushing his hand away from the intensity of it all. you’re limp in the seat next to him, letting out a low moan as you watch matty brings one of his fingers to his lips. the sinful pop of his lips smacking against his finger drives you mad, alluding to the many of nights he’s spent with his head buried between your thighs.

he sucks his finger clean before he’s holding the other out to your own lips, tapping gently. you immediately invite the digit into your mouth, cleaning off the tangy taste of you from his skin. your cheeks hallow around his flesh and you’re moaning at the taste. your show is well received by the man sat next to you, as you hear his groans. you always knew how to put on a show for him. he’s watching you again, eyes wild with desire.

your chest is rising and falling at a rapid rate, vision a little hazy as you slowly come back down from the matty-induced high. he’s clicked the engine off and you realize the car is parked in the back of a parking lot. the both of you’s usual spot for nights like this. his eyes are on you, like a predator watching their prey, darkened and piercing into you. 

there’s a moment before he speaks, and you’re half wondering if he’s going to bring up your own not-so-innocent escapades. he didn’t bring you here to talk though. he never does.

“you’ve made a mess of the seat, so so dirty,” he tsks, unclipping his seatbelt and looming over you, “whatever am i going to do with you?”

and with a sly smirk, mirroring his own, you hum out, “i can think of a few ideas.” 

you’re pulled into the back of the car quicker than you can even catch your breath. his lips are on yours, on your neck, your jaw- any inch of skin that you bare to him. he’s nipping and sucking welts into your flesh, marks you know you’re going to have to conceal tomorrow.

“i’ve … i’ve heard things,” you whisper out, finally, as he begins his descent down your body, fingers pushing up on your shirt to expose more skin that he hasn’t yet claimed. its easier to talk about this when you can’t see his face.

“i know,” he murmurs against you, teeth nipping at the sensitive skin of your stomach. you shudder at his advances. “and they’re true, but i just… can’t stop thinking about you.”

he’s between your legs now, pushing up the flimsy skirt and pulling the thin material of your panties down. he makes quick work of stuffing them into the pocket of his jeans and he’s gazing up at you, big brown eyes pouring into yours. he’s ready to kneel at the altar that is your hips and beg for forgiveness the best way he knows how.

and how are you to deny him when you’ve been there too a few times?