#minor muses

[madamemiz]

sad: falling out of a hyperfixation

tragic: watching your beloved friends and mutuals fall out of the hyperfixation while you're still in it

[marzipanandminutiae]

the thing about dating in your early 30s is that there are some younger people where, while it wouldn't necessarily be wrong to date them, you might just not be at the same place in life

like, would it be creepy for me to date a 24-year-old at 31? I don't personally think so; that's around my lower limit on dating apps and such. but I might be emotionally ready for marriage and kids MUCH sooner (ie yesterday, to be honest) while she could still be figuring out what she wants in those respects. while that's not always correlated with age...age frequently plays a part

I think it's easier to look at MUCH younger adults and think "ew, with a few rare exceptions, nobody my age should date them; I would never" than to face the fact that sometimes it's not a moral issue. it doesn't have to be CreepyBadWrong for age- or rather, life stage -to be an impediment to the relationship

in an environment where age gaps in romantic relationships are frequently portrayed as either evil or totally fine, It's Not Bad But It's Still Not Viable can fall through the cracks

[tofixtheshadows]

People who read Dungeon Meshi tend think they're so smart for reading it, because Dungeon Meshi is a smart manga, and they Understand Its Themes and its symbolism, but the way the majority of you talk about Kabru is like. Oh, I see. The narrative held your hand through a nuanced topic and you still didn't get it. </3 Somehow it's really hard when it isn't a white character. ):

[whiskeyswifty]

Sometimes I can’t tell what is genius and what is accident with Taylor, genuinely like I’m not diminishing what she does. For instance, the recent album phenomenon where almost right away, every single person, critics included, made their own “TTPD Edit” if you will. A trimmed down selection of the 31 songs that either they think made a tighter album, fit into a narrative they liked, created a new narrative, or whatever compelled them. Obviously I don’t think Taylor wants anyone to cut any of her songs off an album she herself made, of course. So here is where I err on the side of accident. But then… I think about how the number one thing all artists, even Taylor sized ones, are tasked with is creating engagement around a product. Taylor for this album tried to start the “fortnight challenge” which went absolutely nowhere. However, the fact that everyone, haters and lovers of ttpd alike, have made their own edits, which is an incredibly active form of engagement and stream booster, is an astoundingly brilliant stroke of….. luck? Genius? I can’t tell. I can’t fucking tell!!! Maybe it wasn’t accidental and she was intentionally clever to drop an obscene amount of songs that resemble more of a sketchbook than a solid story or even sonic cohesion (again not a knock just a pretty objective observation compared to previously more cohesive works of hers and others). An album almost… stay with me here, almost too messy that it begs you to finish it up, clean it up. Engagement that was so compulsive and universally experienced by everyone that its unreal to me how that’s unintentional. And she’s especially intuitive in this arena, finger on the pulse, mirrorball woman that she is. The data dump release format feels almost like a strategy in that way. But I can’t quite believe she would ask of us to pluck our own apples from her abundant but still carefully cultivated tree and make our own pies. She encourages us to incorporate the songs into our lives yes but don’t tell her how to do her job, surely not! So I guess even if it was accidental, I suppose that’s still somehow a form of genius to me, that even her impulses are in tune with how to best engage a modern audience. Having been in this business, and on this end of it, for so long that she can just sense when to drip feed us and when to stuff us like foie gras geese. Does she fundamentally understand that audiences hate being told what to do, as she feels the same way herself, and knows how to guide engagement without forcing it? Is that also insane? Giving her TOO much credit? Idk I can’t decide but it’s a stone I turn over and over in my brain. She figured out that the house always wins and so she became the house. Astounding.

[sapphicvampirenerd]

Vampires are so hot.

Like, the teeth? How they'd moan against you as your blood poured down their throat? I think I'd DIE on the actual spot if they told me how my blood tastes, how good I feel and taste for them, how my existence is just to make their eyes roll back with the pleasure of how I taste.

Vampires are stronger than humans, I couldn't escape even if I wanted. My wrists would be scraping against stone as they took and took from me, and no matter how loud I scream and cry, no one would hear.

If I'm lucky, eventually their thigh would slip between mine and they'd tell me to grind on it while they fed, making me start to associate the agony of their feeding with the pleasure of getting to cum.

[comparativetarot]

Queen of Wands. Art by Ivy K, from the Mythos Tarot.

THE MUSES

[pwurrz]

eiden and quincy just absolutely devouring yakumo once he gets off his waiter shift. yes, at the same time!! yakumo’s room has not known quiet for at least three nights now.

jealous possessive quincy is something we’ve seen a few times before, but jealous possessive eiden?? getting fed up with having to watch yakumo be flirt with and ogled all day while he can’t do a single thing about it?? yeah, that’s a good idea

“m-mr. eiden? i-is something wrong? you’ve been.. s-staring at me..”

“…you look so damn good in that outfit it took me every bit of my willpower to not just jump on you right then and there.”

“…….oh.”

yakumo gets so flustered by the idea of eiden being so forward and feeling possessive over him he nearly combusts. not to mention quincy of all people openly admitting what he wants to do to yakumo. out loud. the poor thing’s system basically overloads and he can’t think about anything but the feeling of being so shamelessly desired.. good thing quincy is there to catch him before he can pass out, and then not-so-subtly drag the serpent away in the direction of the bedroom, where the three of them won’t be seen until tomorrow afternoon.

[meadowmusing]

random camp halfblood cabin smells/scents headcanons

Cabin One: Zeus' Cabin

Crisp fresh air like you'd smell at the top of a mountain.

Sometimes you can get a whiff of ozone.

Cabin Two: Hera's Cabin

Subtle notes of flowers, alcohol and perfume, all of which smell exceedingly expensive.

Freshly pressed linen.

Cabin Three: Poseidon's Cabin

Sea salt

A hint of seafood, but the kind of waft you get from an expensive/fancy seafood restaurant

Cabin Four: Demeter's Cabin

Flowers and freshly cut grass

Fresh home cooked meals

Cabin Five: Ares' Cabin

Heavy smell of iron (Smells pretty similiar to Hephaestus' cabin, but with a lot less smoke and burning)

Cabin Six: Athena's Cabin

Smells like old books and ink

Cabin Seven: Apollo's Cabin

Warm summers day with a hint of chamomile

Cabin Eight: Artemis' Cabin

Earthy and fresh, like an untouched patch wilderness

Hint of a soft scent like lavender

Cabin Nine: Hephaestus' Cabin

iron and bitter smells (from the bronze)

oil and smoke, sometimes smells like bbq

Cabin Ten: Aphrodite's Cabin

Chocolate and expensive perfume

Sometimes smells like everyone personal favourite scents which differs from person to person, but unequivocally smells pleasant.

Cabin Eleven: Hermes' Cabin

Has a mix of smells, owing to the variety of loot his kids keep and the fact there's many unclaimed kids with their own backgrounds and possessions

Cabin Twelve: Dionysus' Cabin

Sweet and tangy, like fresh punch at a party

The older the cabin kids are, the more it develops into a mature wine smell. Cabin Thirteen: Hades' Cabin

Smells surprisingly sweet, a little like a pastry cafe, with a hint of alcohol like wine (reference to offerings the greeks would leave at graves)

Sometimes freshly dug dirt

[apollos-boyfriend]

I saw a post ages ago explaining the difference between Latino and Hispanic but I don't remember how it works. Would you be willing and able to explain it for people who don't know? 👉🏻👈🏻

okay so!

latino is anyone from latin america, whether that be of origin or descent. (as a side note of personal importance, the gender-neutral/plural form of latino is not latinx. it is either latinos or latine. latinx is very much a gringo term and ignores the effort of actual latine advocates who have pushed for more inclusive language.)

hispanic is anyone from a spanish-speaking country, again counting for either origin or descent.

someone from spain is hispanic but not latino. someone from brazil is latino but not hispanic.

[cosmictapestry]

could we get morpheus’s titties + body painting please?

B4. morpheus's titties

and

B34. body painting

this turned into a little sequel of sorts to the waxplay one

prompt list here

You make me feel beautiful, Lord Morpheus had said, and it's been ringing in Lucienne's head ever since.

And she understood, the moment he said it, that he was admitting to enjoying being cared for, fawned over, doted on. He has never been the type of king to demand such things from his subjects. He has never been the type of man to ask it, even of his lovers. And he had been embarrassed, or frightened, and he had gone slack in relief when she moved on without comment.

She has seen this from him before, of course, when they’ve bathed together, when she’s taken her time kissing all his skin. His reactions were always pained, unfamiliar, overwhelmed. He loved it, and he would not tell her so. You make me feel beautiful, he had said while she rubbed him with oil, adorned him with wax.

She loves to make him feel beautiful.

And so she retires to their quarters early to begin her preparations, summoning forth her materials in candlelight until his presence hums through the room, a warm thrumming heartbeat of power.

"Ah," he says, standing at the foot of the bed in all his black robes. She is bare, sitting on the bed, mixing paints with her fingertips on a gleaming silver palette. The curiosity on his usually expressionless face makes him look very young. "You have plans."

"I do," Lucienne says, not looking up from where she's mixing a shimmering indigo with her pointer finger. "I plan to paint.” She glances at him then, sees his eyes trained on her finger. “Tonight, I am the artist. And you, my lord, are my canvas.”

His eyes gleam silver by candlelight. “I’ve not seen you paint in many ages.” Lucienne’s hobbies have been numerous and relatively short-lived. Reading has always been her true love and inevitably other pursuits seemed to eat up all her unlimited time. “I keep my favorite of your pieces in my quarters.”

This is news to Lucienne. “You do? Which one?”

He tilts his head. “I’ve told you, surely? The dimetrodon mother whose sail catches the sun.” His hands twitch at his sides, almost nervously. “I love that piece.”

“Oh.” She does remember how he loved that work when she presented it to him. It was long ago—and in those days he was difficult to move, his control so rigid that she often could not tell she'd gotten through to him until she made him cry. And he had cried, when he first laid eyes on the finished work, and he had asked if he could keep it, but she hadn't thought... "I would have taken this up again sooner, had I known what it meant to you."

Gingerly he sits at the edge of the bed, one leg drawn up and his body turned toward her. He looks at his own hand, fiddling with a golden thread in the sheets. "I would prefer you to chase your passions as they occur to you," he says, and, much quieter, "I am simply honored to have received such a gift."

Lucienne tilts her head at him, his hunched shoulders and darting eyes. "My lord, are you still in possession of everything I've ever gifted you?"

Lord Morpheus is quiet for a long beat before a tiny smile plays on his lips. "Do you remember when we negotiated peace between the Never-Weres and the Always-Beens, and the Paradox Polyglot so irritated you that you sketched his likeness on the table linens three times over, each caricature more absurd that the last? And you showed me afterwards, because I admitted how he vexed me." He looks up now, meets her wondering eyes. "I've kept even those."

Lucienne raises her hand to his face, swipes two shimmering blue fingertips under his right eye, draws him forward to kiss her. He sighs like it is a relief. Her clean hand comes up to his neck, dips under his robes which fall off his shoulders of their own accord, baring him down to the navel, inky fabric pooled in his lap and all around him.

Her plan had been to take her time rendering a masterpiece onto his skin, but when she pulls back and sees the blue on his face, beginning to run like wetted kohl down his cheek, she decides there is no need for finesse to prove her point. Instead she takes his mouth again and wills the hand on his shoulder to become wet with a pale violet that she smears diagonally across his chest. His mouth opens on a gasp at the coolness of the paint, the glide of her skin.

Lucienne's thumb is dipped in gold now, and it swipes a crescent around his left nipple, then dabs the nipple itself. The hand on his face moves and is forest green and it wraps his pretty throat, then repeats the same grip on his right bicep, cleanly paints him from elbow to wrist. He shivers and pants against her mouth and makes a helplessly pleased noise when she squeezes both his hips with gold, paints an elaborate belt of intertwining vines at his waist.

She presses her forehead to his cheek to watch her work now, and he breathes heavily, listing against her, the robes in his lap noticeably tented. Lucienne draws one featherlight ruby-red fingertip up the heaving center of his chest, a shimmering vivisection that he arches into, then draws that red nail over his right nipple. He jerks and huffs and stays so still he trembles while she painstakingly renders him boneless.

She works inwards from his pec, drawing thin wavering lines of gold and orange and red, rays of brilliant sunlight. Closer and closer to that red-scratched nipple she paints until sweat is running in rivulets down his chest, smearing her work beautifully, until he is that watercolor sunrise she painted all those years ago, and he is whispering nonsense into her ear, his hips shifting and hands clenched in the sheets.

Lucienne licks and bites his neck, tastes salt and the sweet-earth of the dreampaint, and he keens for her. Then she lowers her head and she takes his sun-painted nipple into her mouth. He gasps, arches into her, words which are no words at all from his red mouth. Her hand, painted violet, pulls his robes from his lap, encircles his cock. Her lord cries out, and his head falls forward to knock against the back of hers, and she draws her teeth over his nipple, and he comes in her hand.

She raises her head again, kisses his face, his blue-smeared cheek, runs one now-clean hand through his sweaty hair to pull it away from his face. His eyes are wide open, staring now at the marks that cover his skin, still dazed and senseless with his release. There are, of course, tears in his eyes. "May I keep it?" he asks, very quiet and hoarse. "As something this aspect might wear?"

In answer Lucienne kisses her lord, drinks his startled little moan down like the finest wine. "It belongs to you," she says, meaning the paint and the aspect. "You are beautiful."

[saiyanmyname]

This is by no means finished but it’s been a hot minute since I posted so here you go 😊

It should have terrified you, a man his size with flames flowing from his body. Should have sent you running, but it never did. Maybe that was just your inquisitive side. Bearing no mind of what that curiosity could do to any sensible minded cat.

He liked that you were the one that had looked further than his quirk, saw beneath the charade of his exterior, the giant gauntlets on his shoulders, the cloud of flames like a halo around his face. You’d dreamed beyond the fire, far enough to muse on the taste of the lips beneath them, far enough to dream them against your own. He liked that, the way you looked at him, raising your eyes to meet his as his equal, never shying away from him or from his touch that lingered softly over any stray hairs as an excuse to as brushed his fingers against your face with a steady hand.

Cagey, was how you’d describe him, at first. Like a wild animal that was unsure if you meant him harm, you wouldn’t have been the first. You couldn’t help but notice, those sly glances over to you, there was no missing those blue, blue eyes of his, so vivid they seemed to change the rest of the world around them to nothing but a dull sepia. Eyes that had undressed you countless times before. Although no more than his complicated mind that continued to play out fantasies about you in his sleep, waking up with a troublesome throbbing ache for you.

As time went on the images became more lewd, more real, to the point where he fervently looked forward to the few hours sleep he allowed himself between shifts, just so he could dream of you.

[too-much-alphabet-soup]

When Sanji managed to get out of Nami's vision he slumped against a wall and ran his hand through his hair, his other going for another cigarette. He had hoped that the one would have tied him over until later. It had been a fever dream to have her come looking to him; to be chased for once. He savored that feeling, it was still new to feel wanted, especially like this.

But he could feel the tension in her gestures and the way she leaned into him when he was close. It wasn't yet a perfect fairy tale ending, but he could see the beginnings of it. Even his mother had said that friendship was even more rare than love. He hoped she enjoyed the chase as much as he was enjoying convincing her to do it.

He returned to the Galley to help with the cleanup of the post-dinner revel and to keep Usopp company.

"Is it working." The man at the sink asked as Sanji stepped in and began to tidy what was left of the kitchen.

"As much as I can hope."

"She couldn't stop staring at you over dinner."

"There's reasons."

"As long as those reasons don't keep me up at night. I need my beauty sleep." Usopp said as he fried out the last dish. "Need another few minutes? I'm sure I can come up with something else to do." Usopp asked in a low voice meant to not carry, his eyes indicating Name as she entered.

Sanji ran his hand through his hair again and leaned over to look at the sink. "You should be good, Usopp, I'll deal with this." He turned back to Nami his hands spread on the counter in almost exactly the same places they had been before dinner, a bright smile adorning his face. "Why, Nami-swan, how can I help you?"

He could hear her grit her teeth.

[venvellan]

i'm unironically so obsessed with rolan it's getting annoying. it was never ironic to begin with but i thought a post or two would get it out of my system. it's worse now. i been thinking about this side quest npc more than astarion lately. at the VERY LEAST i think about them equally. it's stupid. never in my career have i been down lower for a side character with < an hour of dialogue. i am so free. but at the same time. feel like dribbles. the way i'm clowning around (and in several pieces spread across the land)

[pieceofnine]

by clicking the SOURCE LINK, you’ll be redirected to a collection of gif icons of SEOI, RIINA, and HWISEO of h1-key. details of each gif set can be found on the page. all these gifs were made from scratch by me so please do not edit, redistribute or repost. please like or reblog if you’ve found them useful!

[pwurrz]

eiden sees kuya and rei bickering and chimes in “are you guys like.. gonna kiss or??” to which the two of them, both different levels of offended and disgusted, direct their bickering towards eiden instead.

‘my, it seems young master has more worms in his brain than normal!’

‘i knew you were incompetent when it came to anything scientific but i didn’t think you were so socially inept as well.’

eiden just rolls his eyes and retorts that you could cut the sexual tension between them with a dull knife. even blade, sweet, innocent blade, can tell there’s something going on between the two of them.

(no one needs to know about their long and complicated history but. rei absolutely let kuya hit it. on more than one occasion. their interest in sharing any details about these encounters is in the negatives however, so eiden, with his penchant for prying into the relationships of his clan members, will be left in the dark for this one.)

[meadowmusing]

Was anyone else scarred by Ethan Nakamura's death in the Last Olympian growing up? Maybe it's because I'm afraid of heights but falling from Olympus sounds like such a terrifying way to go. I always felt really bad for the guy, especially because his mum took his eye, spent years fending for himself, I'm pretty sure the titan army conditions wereny great, all to get yeeted off Olympus :(