#so unrespectful

[softiedingo]

"hey what are you watching- "

me:

[kyouka-supremacy]

_

[set-wingedwarrior]

.

[kivrumi]

I think if Sukuna was ever to romantically like or love someone he would skip the entire girlfriend thing and marry them...

Not only is it like old tradition to rather be married then have partners but he probably doesn't believe having a partner that your not married to is useful in anyway.

I know lot's of people think he doesn't like marriage and sees it as useless but i think he would rather be calling you his WIFE than his GIRLFRIEND. Because calling you his girlfriend seems so immature, useless, and unrespectful but with him calling you his WIFE it shows people must respect you as his and you actually mean something to him...

js a thought of my WIFE Sukuna ^-^

[mvskedxrtist]

Hello there so I saw you write Hazbin hotel you can do this request anytime you want.

Anyway- can I request Alastor x top male reader.

Alastor was in the mood / heat because he a deer demon after all and decide to go ask his husband (reader) too helping just smut and fluff after sex.

Before I request this I already read the rule because I don't want to be unrespectful.

I'm not English so- if I say something that making you confused I am so sorry and apologize for it.

My Needy Deer

Wᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: Daddy Kink, Breeding Kink, Praise, Edging, Soft Alastor, Slightly OOC Alastor, Oral (M Giving)

Nᴏᴛᴇ: Thank you for the request! Oh my first request! I'm so happy that I was trusted for this prompt! A new star in the form of this will be in the sky because of you! Aka, thank you so much for this! I'm so excited. Now for this request, if Alastor is a bit OOC, I'm sorry. I really tried my hardest to keep him as canon as possible while doing this.

AMAB!Husband!Reader x Alastor - My Needy Deer

It was a normal day in Hell, like usual. Murder, sex, chaos, everything was happening like it has. It was three months away from the fated extermination and Alastor decided to just do a normal radio broadcast for that day.

The Radio Demon was taunting Vox once again through his microphone when he got a sinking feeling in his stomach, heat pulling in as his ears fell on his head. "Damn it..." He muttered and walked out of his studio before heading back towards his shared room in the hotel.

Alastor had walked into the room and sighed gently when he saw you reading on the lounge chair. "Well hello, darling." "Oh, hello Alastor. You finished your show early." You got up from the chair and placed the book on the end table as you got up and petted his head.

You instantly noticed how Alastor's grip on his staff was more stiff than usual and that his ears were down. "Al... Are you ok?" You asked him gently and gave him a soft smile which made his face get slightly red.

He had realized once walking in that he was in his heat and you just getting closer to him just made his urges worse. "My dear husband... It's that time of the year..." Alastor told you gently while his tail was shaking gently, his nerves going a bit crazy until you held his hips gently and chuckled. "Aww, ok then baby."

You placed his staff on the side of the bed and pulled him onto the bed, helping him get undressed quickly. Alastor felt his senses heighten even more and helped you take your clothes off quickly before he started sucking your cock quick. "Gah!~ Fuck yes..~" You groaned under your mouth and leaned back a bit to watch your husband become obsessed once again with your cock.

Alastor whined softly as he continued to suck on your dick, trying to stimulate you quickly so then his heat could be solved faster. You grumbled and pushed Alastor's head off your cock before laying him down and sliding into his asshole quickly, groaning loudly from how tight he was.

You smirked at his dazed face, looking down to see the oh so powerful radio demon seem so fucked out. Alastor's tail and ears were down flat as you were pounding his ass hard, crackling moans coming from his mouth. "S-shit!~ H-hahh~ d-daddy~" He wrapped his arms around your neck while he could feel by going deeper.

Your thrusts went so deep inside of him at such a fast pace that he could barely keep his mind clear, only thinking about you filling him with your cum and giving him fawn. "Such a pretty doe~ so obedient for me~" You caressed his face with your thumbs while you thrusted faster, loud clapping filling the room.

Alastor's face flushed slightly from your words and whined softly, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he came all over himself. You chuckled and kissed him gently as you slammed deep inside of him and came inside of his asshole. Alastor was exhausted and gave you a lopsided smile while you chuckled and ran your fingers through his hair to calm him down.

"How do you feel my deer?" "Absolutely exhausted, my husband." You both chuckled softly and cuddled against one another, resting for the night.

[polin-erospsyche]

Colin in this new clip is something to behold and I’m just laughing so hard at his smugness

Like dude, the eyebrow raise at the mention of “great love stories”? Him nodding along when Benedict says to Lord Kilmartin that his problem is that he is trying to be too respectable and he should be more bold and foolish? His smug “no” at the mention of rocks throwing? My dude did countless unrespectable things with his wife and suddenly has believed himself to be all wise in the art of great love stories when in fact two days ago he was down bad crying in his room, throwing himself wallowing parties and living in his dreams starving himself to be with his girl. This man is just so unserious

[imaginesmai]

His precious treasure - Eris Vanserra

First time writing for Eris! Let me know what you think

Plot: Beron manages to ask the right questions at the wrong moment, making Eris suspicious of your safety. His hidden treasure in the forest, where he cannot get fast enough.

Warnings: mention of torture, death and blood.

His steps resonated through the long corridor, servants and guards bowing to his presence. They never met his eyes, not even when he was just a young prince who barely reached their waists. He used to fool himself thinking it was out of respect, out of fear. But Eris had learned that it was easier to ignore the problems of their loved court, the abuse, when they didn’t look at him.

Countless times he had walked down those corridors with blood streaming down his face, bloody nose and bruised eyes. Burned flesh and peeled skin. It used to bother him their indifference, but that day, he barely paid them any attention.

All his focus was set in leaving the palace he called home as soon as possible without looking suspicious, without letting anyone know the terror that threatened to paralyze him.

Eris could feel his eye bruising, the burn marks on his back and chest from his father later outburst. He didn’t mind the abuse, could endure it just fine. What was breaking his soul in two were the answers his father looked with that abuse, and that he had managed to hide. But Beron was asking questions he shouldn’t have been formulating.

“Tell me, my son. Why do I keep receiving notices of your disappearances? Why are my guards worried that you might be lacking in your efforts to keep this court standing?” Beron had asked before backhanding Eris in his office. “Should I be worried about your not-so-subtle trips to the forests?”

The excuse had fallen from his mouth naturally, like he had always planned. Testing the borders for possible threats, assuring the outer posts were functioning correctly, searching the ground with his hounds.

Eris had swallowed every hit and humiliation with a tight jaw, only answering when he was spoken to. He had closed you off the bond and hoped to be strong enough for you not to notice. Then, Beron’s had asked him that damned question and his resolution had cracked.

“You look distracted lately, maybe that’s why you keep forgetting to update me about your whereabouts” Beron snarled, as if the sight of the blood spilled by his hand unsettled him. Then, he locked his eyes with Eris and fire danced behind them, and he smiled. “Maybe it’s the recent lack of servants what has your mind busy. Strange and unexplained disappearances, right?”

He was sure Beron had bought his indifference, or he wouldn’t have let him go. But he still raced through the hallways, a bad feeling twisting his gut. Running would catch too much attention, yet he knew leaving after his father’s questions was an answer by itself.

Eris prayed to the Cauldron, to whoever had unanswered his prayers through his life, that he arrived to the cabin with enough time to make things right. If Beron was asking about missing servants, he could only be talking about you. The kind-hearted lesser fae who had the misfortune of being his mate.

Three years ago, Eris had almost burnt down the entire court one of his brothers got a little too handsy with you. As a servant, you were supposed to endure it and be thankful for his attention. But your heart belonged to Eris Vanserra in secret for almost a century, and you had denied his unrespectful advantages. That earned you a beating that had left you unconscious in the middle of the backyard, where Eris’ hounds had found you.

After weeks of healing in secret and convincing him not to slaughter his own court and find death at the hands of his father, only the promise of your safety had kept him still. He had taken you away to his hidden cabin, where you had been staying part of a cozy side-town, where no one recognized you.

Thoughts of the last three years flooded his mind as he jogged the last steps of the castle, quickly hoisting himself up in his horse and riding off into the forest. He pushed his mare to her limits, until the ground and the trees were nothing but blurry colors.

He wouldn’t waste time thinking why his father hadn’t acted yet, why he had been granted those few minutes to try and save you. The answer was clear when he smelt the uncharacteristic trace of blood in the quiet village.

Eris dismounted without stopping, his mare moving restlessly in the familiar cottage. His heart pushed furiously against his chest, blood rushing to his ears when he noticed the door hanging open by an unnatural angle. Male scents and horses’ prints were all over your hidden cabin.

“Y/N!” he screamed your name, not caring about anything but your safety. With everything about to change, he could throw secrecy as the last of his priorities. “My love, where are you?”

No answer came from the outskirts of the house, and Eris all but threw himself inside. The beating he had just endured almost sent him stumbling to the ground.

The insides of the cabin were a mess, just like his soul. Scattered papers and wooden furniture, broken plates, shattered windows. Fire embers started to fill the messy space as his laborious breathing turned panicked. He leaned against the wall where pictures lay now crooked, and tried to think what to do.

Where to look, who to kill, how to survive knowing his worst nightmare had come true. Eris had always feared having a mate, having someone to love and that loved him back, because he knew the world would take it away cruelly.

What he didn’t expect was the stairs creaking under your weight, and your disheveled head poking through the stairwell. Your eyes widened, at his state, his presence, or his blood. But he didn’t consider much apart from the fact that you were still breathing, somehow, and alive enough to be standing.

His body gravitated forward until you collided into his arms, the composure he had kept during the last hour crumbling like paper against water.

“Eris” you whispered against his chest and his breath hitched, your voice so concerned and soft against his worries. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“You’re alive. You’re alive” he repeated, twice, and willed himself to believe it. “I thought – the door was open, and you didn’t answer. Why didn’t you answer? I called. Didn’t you – didn’t –“

“I didn’t know if it was you. It’s been…”

You trailed off, it wasn’t necessary to acknowledge the obvious mess. Eris pressed you tighter against his chest. Just like those nights where nightmares consumed him, where his father’s reign of terror was too much, he hugged you so tight that your bones creaked under the pressure. You didn’t mind when it was the only thing holding him together.

It was silent for no longer than three seconds, the amount of time it took for the first and only tear to roll down his bruised cheek. If he let himself any more time, if he let his guard down, none of you would make it out of there alive.

Eris ignored the rough phantoms hands he could still feel on his body, the feeling of his father’s fingers tugging on his hair and crushing his throat. His touch was soft and careful as he pulled you away and inspected you with bright eyes. Only a gash on your cheek and a light limp on your left foot. Even if your dress was stained, he didn’t find any threatening injury.

He pushed the anger once more down his chest, until he turned it into resolution.

“How many?”

“Three of Beron’s personal guard. Rookie heard them before they came and I could hide” you motioned with your chin to the enormous dog that guarded the back door, on four and alert. “She took care of the first one, and the other two… it was them or me”

“You did well” Eris whispered, cupping your cheek and brushing his thumb under the bleeding wound. “Where are the bodies?”

Those deaths would haunt you for a while. His innocent, kind mate who had been the only one brave enough to risk sending him pain tonics after his father’s beatings. Who took care of his dogs when he couldn’t leave the bed, and stubbornly stayed by his side as he pushed you away.

Eris followed you silently to the first floor, to your bedroom. Where you had spent so many nights tangled together, now three bloodied bodies stood. He could identify which one had been finished by Rookie, their face unrecognizable. His father’s personal guard embroidery stood bright on their uniform, and it threatened to make him vomit.

He fished their bodies for weapons, ignoring the urge to kill them all over again slower a crueler. When he finished gathering what was worthy, he guided you out of the room, his arm around your shoulder.

“Don’t look” he advised you, pressing you tighter when your body trembled. “We’ll be okay”

You had talked about that outcome for three years, and you had spent each borrowed minute like the last one. It wouldn’t be forever, you understood, so you had crafted a plan. An emergency plan that you needed to carry out.

Eris didn’t let you take anything and you didn’t stop to grab your belongings as he lit fire to the cabin behind you. Each step you took made your knees tremble, knowing that Beron had once more managed to drown any hope in your life for your relationship.

Heat scorched both your backs as you exited the cabin, now full ablaze. Eris’ mare was dutifully waiting at the entrance, with the dozens of neighbors that were gathered in a half-circle. They all scattered when Eris walked out, and didn’t get to see how your knees finally gave out. With just one arm, he managed to keep you standing against his chest and grab the reins.

His whole body tensed under the weight of your sobs, that racked your body in sadness. Twice now, he had seen your life crumble because of him, because of who you loved and loved you back. Until Beron was dead, until his body was cold and forgotten, there wouldn’t be a place in Prythian safe from his hands.

And no matter how much it pained, only one was safe enough to last until he killed his father. Or died trying to.

“Y/N” he whispered against your sobs, against your desperation. He held you firmly as you shook your head in denial without looking up from his chest. “It’s time, my love. We don’t have much time”

Maybe his father was stupid enough to think three men were enough to kill you, but they hadn’t returned and Eris had left – and, surely, his father himself would come to end with his son’s happiness and will to live.

Shadows gathered around his feet, but he didn’t look to the owner nor acknowledge the new presences in his court, in his forest. He had long ago granted them access for that day, had supplied them information for his part of the bargain.

Rhysand and his court had kept their promise.

“I don’t want to” you cried, so hard and fearful that his resolve shook. Yet your safety, your life, had always been his one priority.

“It’s for the best. Look at me, Y/N” his voice didn’t harden, he didn’t slip into the mask he wore around them for your sake. “Y/N”

His own voice was broken too, with despair and agony. He too dreamed for a world where he could hold you freely, where he didn’t need his worst’s enemies help to keep his mate alive. But those dreams were not for people like him. Still, he held onto that thread of hope that he would make it through tonight. That, tomorrow, he would comfort you like you deserve, endure your berating about his selflessness and kiss your tears away.

When you finally looked at him, he smiled, ignoring the surprise radiating from his unusual partners. Eris waited until your sobs subsided and you calmed enough to accept the next step.

In silence, he let his eyes tell you everything he didn’t allow himself to say. How grateful he was for your soft hand when no one else dared to help you, for your patience words against his lashings when you helped him. How sorry for each and every scar you carried from his court, his brothers and father, and for not being able to give you the life you deserved.

How much he loved you, witch every fiber of his being, until he was nothing more than embers and ashes, and beyond.

Eris pressed his lips wordlessly against your forehead, his hands holding your head in place. Your own circled his scarred wrists. With the glamour off, everyone could see the scars and marks on his body. You caressed the rough skin and held him tight, until he tore apart.

“I love you. And if I die tonight, know that your love was what has kept me alive for so long” he watched your glossy eyes, your shaky lips. “I only burn for you, my little fox”

“They’re here” Azriel talked, his voice breaking your daydreaming.

A soft spark of proudness lighted in his chest when Azriel tried to gently guide you back and you brushed him off with a stern look. Your eyes, kind and loving for him, were hard and unforgiving for the spymaster. Eris knew they would treat you well, would take care of you, and was sure you would give them hell for him.

You looked at him one last time, sad resolution in your eyes, and kissed the edge of his lips before stepping away. With your torn dress and blood over you, you looked like every inch of mate he adored and cherished.

Azriel finally gripped your wrist with an annoyed frown, and shadows swarmed both your beings just as the first group of soldiers rounded the edge of the town. They wouldn’t be the problem, but the High Lord who rode behind. Eris didn’t allow any of his fears or worries show when he kept eye contact as you disappeared with Azriel.

“Come back for me” you begged him one last time, cracking once more his already broken heart. “Please, my prince. Come back”

“I love you”

He let those words be the last thing you heard from him. Eris was powerful, but his father could crush him like a leave under a boot. Maybe Rhysand would keep to his promise and keep you safe – and still loose you against his father’s armies. Eris was just happy knowing he would die knowing what being loved by you felt. How your arms felt around his shoulders, your breath against his neck.

Eris would die happy because you had chosen him when even he hadn’t chosen himself.

The sound of horses and men screaming got more intense when you disappeared, and the prince prepared himself to face one last battle. His fists lighted up with bright fire, his body vibrating with energy.

He expected a wave of angry soldiers from his right.

Not a stony-face Rhysand looking at him with a raised brow.

“You do love” he proclaimed, his voice laced with curiosity and something else. “I was tempted to believe she was just another one of your tricks. One that assured you your climb to the throne”

“I have business to attended, in case you can’t tell” Eris grumbled, letting loose the rage and anger. “So if you would be so kind, please fuck off”

The first round of autumn males broke through the left with raised swords and angry scowls. Some of them had fought by Eris’ side in the last war, some of them had been by his father’s side as he beat him.

Neither of their faces was marked in Eris’ memory, as they all vanished away to a terrible darkness that swept them off. As if they had never existed at all. The prince’s fire died down a bit as he looked at the High Lord, who had taken his hands out of his pocket and whose violet eyes were shinning dangerously.

For all explanation, Rhysand shrugged and gave away no intention of leaving with Azriel and his court.

“I made a bet on you when we made that bargain. A bet on a new high lord that would change things with me” Rhysand stared at him and Eris didn’t break eye contact, too stunned to speak. “Wasn’t certain it was the right bet, but now I am. I hope we both get to withdraw the price”

Without another word, the world was consumed in a wave of darkness, Beron’s power emerging not so far away. Eris let himself become fire in the dark, brighter than ever, and with the memory of your last smile and the possible hope of a world with you, he launched himself into battle.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

[yandere-daydreams]

Out or all the freaks and unrespectable people you have written for, who do you think is calling their newly kidnapped adopted pet horribly degrading names right off the bat? Ex: an empty headed whore

wait i actually have to think on this a little,,,

there are obviously the resident Bastards (ie. geto with a non-sorcerer darling or wanderer/scaramouche), but i feel like there are a fair amount of yanderes who would also be very,,, affectionate about it? i guess? illumi seems like the type where he generally doesn't think enough of you as a person to not cup your face and sweetly coo about how much of a 'glassy-eyed little whore' he thinks you are, and alhaitham feels the need to remind you periodically that you are, in fact, less intelligent than him and incapable of taking care of yourself with no particular malice aside from his usual bad attitude. sukuna and toji would both also treat 'slut' like a petname pretty much on-par with 'babe', so,,, yeah. they all kind of suck if you ponder on it long enough.

[achillyscomedown]

okay but hear me out - maurice is french canadian and is seen mostly speaking english, but what about the times he doesn’t know what to say? i think we can take the liberty to assume he learned french as a first language, so he’s probably ran into a couple cases of the ol’ ‘what is the english word for this?’ but it’s for the most basic things. irene always corrects him without any judgement, which he appreciates (many people look down on him for struggling with the language and think of him as uneducated - not to mention that he’s said to not have much of an education).

-

maurice: sister irene, can you pass me that?

irene: pass you what?

maurice: the thing to your right.

irene: there are many things to my right, frenchie.

maurice: the long square with the flips.

irene: what flips?

maurice: flips. flippy. it has a cover and flips.

irene: the book?

maurice: oui.

-

and even better, him misusing words/getting words mixed up. irene has gotten so used to this that everything she comments is just second nature, though when she speaks it isn’t in a condescending way.

-

maurice: -and then for breakfast i had lesson-

irene: lemon.

maurice: -lemon in water, and-

-

maurice: it’s been a long day, i’m very sleeps right now.

irene: sleepy.

maurice: yes, that.

-

maurice (speaking to someone angrily): you are unrespectful-

irene: disrespectful.

maurice: -disrespectful and arrogance!

irene: arrogant.

maurice: oh, you know what i mean.

[firstpooher]

WHAT HAPPENED

fans of poohpavel calling change2561 (poohpavel label) for "Sasaeng" or fan groups whose behavior violates the artist's privacy. Whether it's awaiting under buildings, stalking and harassing the artist.

first i wanna start speaking with there is a difference between a fan who likes to see their artisit and give them gifts as a token of their loving and an obsessive stalker who goes everywhere they go know their loactions, when they fly to other countries brag about having people stalk them and report to them .its so sick and they are so proud about what they do they see nth wrong in it them and their cult followers its so immature and very unrespectful and its risky to just let them around with no rules

Close to the assault, the label remained silent and did not take any action, even though the consequences could mean the safety of the artists. we can see how uncomfy he is in the videos and pics pavel was very uncomfy and the way they kept following him around like some exotic animal, when it was no event or nth it was part of his personal life.

There was an incident where an artist was attacked by someone in the event, who could not be known if he was a fan or not. But even then, change didnt not take any legal action and they didnt state any rules to be around their artist

( vid here)

Artists are stalked to educational institutions and other public places and pressured to interact, inevitably without the consent of their own decisions. they stalk them like i think they stalked pavel into a supermarket and one even took a private vid of pooh while he was having food in his uni cafe

(this includes a vid of a stalker following pooh and he was so uncomfortable he took wtv they gave him and left quickly)

at the same time Fans who follow all the rules are excluded. Change chose to open the door to welcome Sasaeng in instead. Compare that to when a fan was rushed by staff at a fan meeting, Sasaeng stood for hours with his camera at the artist.

this girl she took the same flight as them she sat next to them and yet no one said anything i could literally feel how uncomfy they was but they couldnt do anything

god just the way she is looking at him

It also deals with the security of artists' personal information. Who told the flight to Sasaeng? How do those people know? they just follow them around and invade their privacy.

in here the vid pavel looked so uncomfy with them following him and he even ran to get away yet they ran after him and let me remind you he had no security or bodyguards here

again following him from one place to the other and running after him with no security or anyone protecting him

In each photo that Sasaeng released, pooh didn't even seem to know that he was being secretly filmed (there are clips of him sitting in the car and the faces of his friends attached).

Schools should be the safest spaces.

It's wrong since I followed the artist at the airport, and I didn't look at the context and expression on his face. Keep calling it a joke. The younger one doesn't look to bump into others, who will be responsible?

its wrong to follow them in the airports okay but what kind of person write those type of questions and asking him that so causally i can imagiene the discomfort also he was pushing his baggage yet there here was so uncomfy.

the vid of this here its so sickening

(look guys i personally know the girl from the one i never thought she would do such a thing)

okay now not just them following them around when they with their family too also apart from this being zoomed the person who took it was super close to his mom pavel was yet again very uncomfortable and he kept looking at the person who was filming his mom

last one god this is totally invading his private space he was normally eating with his friend in uni and this person took video of him and not just that when he looked at the person filming him they quickly closed it and he was so uncomfy after

vids and pics and some context taken from my amazing ruby

[femalethink]

Love. Love is always crucial in effecting the allegiance of women. The Right offers women a concept of love based on order and stability, with formal areas of mutual accountability. A woman is loved for fulfilling her female functions: obedience is an expression of love and so are sexual submission and childbearing. In return, the man is supposed to be responsible for the material and emotional well-being of the woman. And, increasingly, to redeem the cruel inadequacies of mortal men, the Right offers women the love of Jesus, beautiful brother, tender lover, compassionate friend, perfect healer of sorrow and resentment, the one male to whom one can submit absolutely—be Woman as it were—without being sexually violated or psychologically abused.

It is important and fascinating, of course, to note that women never, no matter how deluded or needy or desperate, worship Jesus as the perfect son. No faith is that blind. There is no religious or cultural palliative to deaden the raw pain of the son's betrayal of the mother: only her own obedience to the same father, the sacrifice of her own life on the same cross, her own body nailed and bleeding, can enable her to accept that her son, like Jesus, has come to do his Father's work. Feminist Leah Fritz, in Thinking Like a Woman, described the excruciating predicament of women who try to find worth in Christian submission: "Unloved, unrespected, unnoticed by the Heavenly Father, condescended to by the Son, and fucked by the Holy Ghost, western woman spends her entire life trying to please."

—Andrea Dworkin, "Last Days at Hot Slit."

[chewyspoke]

Different agere communities and my thoughts on them!

Twitter/X - ageretwt has always been my main way of interacting with other littles and caregivers online, but it's not my favorite. Every so often there is drama between users, it's fun sometimes but when your whole timeline is about someone's beef when you are going there for comfort isn't the greatest. it is also very easy to receive hate messages if you are not private or have dms off. keep in mind that there are a very lot of unrespectful people there along with the rest of the internet and people might not have the best intention for you in mind.

tumblr- I don't use this place a lot because I find it hard to communicate directly with each other or to grow closer. While that's annoying, it is nice to not get as much hate on posts because I think it is harder to bully people on here lol. I love the layout of Tumblr and the agere community has a lot of hashtags and different types of content.

pinterest- Also hard to grow closer to moots on there, as pinterest isnt really a social media. I think the n$fw and sfw sides are pretty mixed and sometimes i will get nasty k1nk related stuff on my feed and i hate it. I love picrews and picrews are so easy to find on there so i mostly use it for that lol.

youtube- not a lot of agere community on youtube which makes me so sad because i love long (not 15 second) videos but i can never find any. If you have any recommendations PLZ lmk. there is an agere side of asmr yt, but the nasty stuff gets mixed into it a lot and its hard to ditsier until you are midway into the video.

reddit- ik reddit got a bad rep but r/nevergrowup and r/ageregression are actually so sweet and i think all of the posts are cute. not that many creeps and the communities state whether n$fw language is aloud or not. It is a great place to get feedback or ideas.

[omgkalyppso]

OC Patron Saint Quiz

I was tagged by @my-favourite-zhent to take This uQuiz (warnings for fictional animal death and other horror) as an OC to assign them a patron sainthood. It wasn't very cat/holic despite the title of the quiz.

I'll tag @ghostwise, @lucius-the-sinful, @boghermit, @recurringwriter, @thetavolution

@bladesandstars, @bladesandbhaalspawn, @the-eldritch-it-gay, @thedragonagelesbian, @peachiehambo

@luinen-bluewater, @cherrypikkins, @silvercrucifixes, @faerieenthusiast, @umbralstars and YOU.

Faedolyn

patron saint of lost faith

patron saint of leaving it by the roadside. patron saint of it slipping out of your fingers. patron saint of searching and searching. patron saint of yearning for it back. patron saint of scraping your fingers down to the bone trying to hold onto it. patron saint of losing it anyway. saint of lost faith. not the saint of getting it back.

Étoile

patron saint of bones

patron saint of frameworks. of structures. of solidity. patron saint of things that break. patron saint of things that are left behind. the bones survive long after the body, the building: what is there left for them, when the rest has gone? what do bones do, with nothing to hold around them? who holds the bones?

Borgakh

patron saint of houses

but not of homes. only the shells of what keeps us enclosed. houses can be decorated or well-built or crumbling or haunted but only a home can truly be warm; you are the patron saint of that lack.

Almanzor

patron saint of horror

you're the patron saint of the dawning moment of realization. the patron saint of comprehension, maybe. the patron saint of understanding. the patron saint of knowing exactly what's going to happen. of seeing clearly. of not being able to look away.

I don't necessarily feel like any of these are So Accurate but I do see why my oc's got each answer they did.

I gave them each an answer in the uquiz, let's see if I remember them.

Faedolyn was the patron saint of surviving disillusionment. Étoile was the patron saint of personal conviction. Borgakh was the patron saint of impulsive action. Almanzor was the patron saint of people who went unrespected by their parents.

[lovelygirlnicole15]

Suave Siblings Scenario y'all!

Note: If you haven't seen this post then you won't understand this

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The Suave Siblings were doing... Well... Suave Siblings things (JUST PRETEND THEY'RE DOING SOMETHING!!) when suddenly some random bully dude come over and when he noticed the different eye colors of my Henry and CC!Burt ( @capturecharlesau ) and he started saying things like "weirdos" or "different eyes freaks", Burt didn't care at all so he just mocked the bully dude, but, not only him but also Harper ( @lumyious-studios ) and CoR!Ellie ( @crown-of-roses-thsc ) noticed that Henry was having a offended, afraid and traumatized look, like he hasn't heard something like that for a long time. They were very shocked because they always thought Henry was a nice guy with a dad that never traumatized him, but that seeing him like that surprised him, however, Henry tried to defend himself saying that he and his brother weren't freaks, but the words couldn't get out of his mouth, which it made the bully say more hurtful things towards him, something that of course the rest of the Suave siblings didn't allow and well... Imagine a scene where Ellie was aggressively attacking the bully while Harper was comforting Henry and Burt, understanding Henry's indifference and unrespect like that, help him to be strong because there are people who disrespects you despise being intelligent or something. So Henry told them something he didn't want to share with anyone but his friends... His bullying torment during his teenage days.

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I honestly had no inspiration to draw this so if you guys wanna draw this scenario then feel free to do it.

[ohmygodshesinsane]

Abnormal 🪴

Carts before horses, heads over heels; Lily and James decorate the Heads' office in the same way they go about everything else.

words: 842 | rating: T

for @jilymicrofics july prompt 6: garden

on ao3 & under the cut

Lily and James have a garden now. Before a house, before a six-month anniversary, before Lily’s even told her parents (though she will get around to it, she swears, she’s just… something). On the windowsill in the Heads’ office, overlooking the greenhouses and the expanse of shimmering lake beyond it, three little plants grow. Time for the collective noun. A garden.

James laughs and pushes his glasses up his nose. Lily folds her arms across her chest and tilts her chin up and they bat their words back and forth over some invisible net until James’s hands are on her hips and her fingers are tangled in his hair and – shit, they needed to be in Transfiguration two minutes ago. McGonagall will skin them. Shame it’s not Herbology. Could’ve told Sprout we were studying.

It started, actually, with a kind of tribute from a first-year that made Sirius joke about temples and gods and burnt offerings until he decided to grab his favourite ‘vase’ and make some burnt offerings of his own, and Lily and James had left him to it while they trudged down to the office to sit their newest family member in the sun. A week after surprising a little first-year girl stealing from the Potions storeroom, she’d come crawling to them with eyes full of tears and a mouth full of apologies and arms full of this ginormous pot, in which the strangest plant Lily had ever seen stretched towards them. It was a gnarled little sapling with multicoloured leaves that purportedly glowed different shades at midnight depending on the phase of the moon. Lily and James had secreted themselves in a broom cupboard to discuss the appropriate course of action. Was it bribery? Lily had chewed her pinkie nail, envisioning some sort of corruption takedown led by a vengeful, dark-haired Slytherin with whom she was no longer on speaking terms. Was it a prank? James had hit it with half a dozen spells, trying to figure out if it was about to curse them. In the end, it’s spent six weeks on the shelf, has proved perfectly ordinary. Lily now uses its glow as a nice reminder to get the hell to bed.

The second plant was a reject of their Herbology project for the term, in which they were supposed to rear a distant sibling species to the mandragora, which went through similar stages of life, but produced a pungent odour rather than a potentially-fatal scream. It lacked the healing properties, too – despite the stench, it was favoured in beautifying elixirs. Lily had learned that woe would betide any child of theirs. Lily gagged furiously when she had to wipe down the plant’s excess of sap, and James had rocked it rather too aggressively to sleep and bumped it significantly. The poor thing had promptly exploded, and saturated them. She’d nearly broken up with him over that (or so she says, because it makes for a good story; the truth is that even the thought, jokingly, of losing him hurts her heart so much that she can’t breathe, and that is way too pathetic to ever admit to their mates). Fortunately, post-explosion, the plant had become quite docile and completely odour-free, and so they brought their crippled little plant to join its odd elder sibling on their windowsill. An unrespectable pair.

The third plant is today’s edition, a week before Christmas; a confiscated bit of mistletoe cruelly enchanted to attach itself above the head of the most acne-ridden student in any given room, and then shriek, ‘KISS ME’  until the demand was fulfilled, or – as Lily discovered – until it was met with a powerful enough Finite, which most of the third-year students could manage. As she and James had returned to the Heads’ office to fill out the incident report, she’d nearly thrown it out. Nearly. James had swiped it out of her hands and held it above her head, and then pressed his lips to hers.

Needed to check the enchantment really was gone, he’d said. Lily had raised her eyebrows.

Are you saying you don’t trust my spellwork, Potter?

He’d made the doubt up to her. He was exceptionally good at it, too.

So the mistletoe made it to the shelf, and now they’ve got a garden, mismatched and deranged and bizarrely-acquired, all three things. When they return to the office after Transfiguration (and a few minutes of appropriate grovelling and nodding, shame-faced, after McGonagall’s rebuke), James slings his arm around her shoulders and sighs, looking over the plants like a proud father-of-three. She elbows him. He kisses her temple.

Garden before the house. A kiss before the first date. Living together, really, before they ever had feelings for each other. They’ve got mixed up somewhere along the line, of what constitutes proper order and normality, but Lily can’t say she minds. Not when she gets to lean her head against James’s shoulder and count the moles on his neck and the specks of stubble on his jaw.

Perfectly abnormal, thank you very much.  

[ntv-enterprises]

ok, tell me if I'm wrong about a bit of this, but

Just off this blog, you've been ranned over by a truck multiple times, blown up, been cyber bullied, been ripped to pieces, died on multiple occasions, had to deal with CLONES of yourself, almost get kidnapped(methinks), had your personal space been unrespected, and now your getting sogged..? What the fuck???

evrybody is so meen 2 me