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greenhousethree · 1 year

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Population in the Wizarding World: A Take through Close Reading and Genetics

🌱 A meta? A headcanon? A bit of both. 🌱 🌾

A writer's idea of the population of wizards is relevant for worldbuilding; it defines the feel of the wizarding community as a whole. The books are notoriously contradictory, thus the size of the Hogwarts student body and the population of the wizarding world are highly debated topics in fandom. Basically, the numbers don’t add up.

My argument is that there are a lot more wizards at Hogwarts, and in Europe, than we think.

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I’ll start by listing a few common theories that I’ve seen used to approximate and/or justify the magicfolk population in the 1990s. Some go hand-in-hand, while others contradict:

The Statute of Secrecy prevents the population of wizards from growing too big.

The birth rate of wizards significantly decreased in the late 1970s during Voldemort’s first rise in power, leading to fewer students in the ‘90s when Harry was in school.

The number of Hogwarts students can be estimated by multiplying the total boys in Harry’s year and House (5) by two to account for boys and girls, by seven to include all years, and by four to include all houses. 5x2x7x4=280 students. Even rounded to 300, this seems astonishingly low.

The wizard population in Britain can be extrapolated by the approximate Hogwarts population using the statistic that 13-16% of human populations are between the ages of 11 and 17, approximating ~1800-2500 wizards in all of Britain (again, this seems low, but it can be explained by the next theory):

A lot of wizards are homeschooled, so the Hogwarts student body isn’t indicative of the entire wizarding population.

While I acknowledge the very real phenomenon of lower birth rates during times of global hardship (war, disease, etc.), and it’s likely that a lot of wizards in the UK don’t go to Hogwarts, I find that most theories don’t take into account two important factors: Harry’s unreliable narration, and a tiny peek into trends of population genetics.

🌱 Harry as an unreliable narrator:

The size of Hogwarts castle, along with descriptions of the student body, seems to be at odds with the few students we actually meet in the narrative. However, some key moments in Harry’s narration lead me to believe that we’re not getting the full picture of how many students there actually are:

1. Harry doesn’t know everyone in his year. We’re introduced to new students of all ages in The Order of the Phoenix via Dumbledore’s Army. But Harry’s introductions to students in his own year are what I find interesting— particularly the Ravenclaw boys and Susan Bones.

When students are entering the Hog’s Head during the first D.A. gathering, Harry notes the presence of “three Ravenclaw boys he was pretty sure were called Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner, and Terry Boot” (OoTP, p 338). At the least, we know that Terry Boot and Anthony Goldstein are in Harry’s year (they’re sorted in The Philosopher’s Stone). Presumably they’ve shared classes (the Gryffindors share classes with the other two Houses), yet Harry isn’t fully acquainted with them. This is also the case for Blaise Zabini, a Slytherin in Harry’s year with whom he’s had classes but somehow does not meet until The Half-Blood Prince.

Susan Bones is also in Harry’s year (she’s also sorted in PS). We know that Harry has had class with the Hufflepuffs (we meet Justin Finch-Fletchley Herbology in The Chamber of Secrets), yet when she enters the Hog’s Head she’s only described as “a Hufflepuff girl with a long plait whose name Harry did not know” (OoTP, p 338).

Two conclusions could be drawn from the fact that Harry doesn’t know his own peers: 1. He’s exceptionally unobservant, and 2. The student body at Hogwarts is large enough that Harry hasn’t yet encountered some of his classmates.

I choose to believe a bit of both. We know that Harry can be observant, particularly in tense or dangerous situations (recalling the location of Ravenclaw’s diadem in The Deathly Hallows demonstrates some pretty high detail retention). On the other hand, he’s not always the most socially astute, which could allow for the argument that he simply hasn’t bothered to learn the names of some of his classmates.

Personally, I find it unlikely that after more than four years of study with a presumed class size of 20 (2 houses, 10 from each), Harry wouldn’t know the names of these students. I think it’s more likely that the classes are much larger, and that Harry’s year of Gryffindor boys just happens to consist of five students.

2. We never get a clear idea of the Hogwarts student body. Harry’s narration often describes “hundreds” of students at Hogwarts: filling the Great Hall, the stands at school Quidditch matches, and the stadium built for the Triwizard Tournament. “Hundreds” doesn’t give us much to work with (Harry also mentions that the Christmas feast includes “hundreds of fat turkeys” in PS), but I don’t think it makes sense to only use the number of boys in Harry’s dorm for reference. The Sorting Hat divides students based on their innermost traits and talents, which shouldn’t mean that it fills a quota every year for each house. It’s likely that there’s a huge variety in the number of students per dorm, if the Sorting is legitimate.

The sheer size of the castle, the fact that there are four Quidditch teams with reasonably good players, and the fact that so many students don’t know each other are all reasons to believe that Hogwarts’ student body is much larger than 300 students across seven years.

Harry’s a kid who often has a lot on his mind; it’s unlikely that he’s introducing us to enough students for us to obtain an accurate gauge of class size from the text.

🧬 The heritability and population genetics of being Magical:

This won’t get too dry, I hope promise. Regardless of whether you accept the above “large student body at Hogwarts” theory or prefer the “lots of children are homeschooled” theory, the likelihood of a small wizarding population in the UK (and, by extent, the world) is slim. We know a few things to back this up:

It’s not that uncommon for a wizard to be born to two Muggles (the Muggle-born Registration Commission is proof of this).

The occurrence of Squibs (non-magical people born to two magical parents) seems to be exceedingly rare (Ron mentions this in CoS).

Anyone who is a wizard (pureblood, half-blood, Muggle-born) can reasonably expect their child to possess magical abilities, regardless of the other parent’s abilities.

I want to look at magical ability through the context of what we know about genetics and heritable traits. Regardless of blood status, we see only two varieties of magic: Magical and Not Magical. Basically, you’re either a wizard or you’re not. Thus, we can use a Mendelian genetics model as a basis for comparison.

When it comes to genes that present two distinct variants of a heritable trait, there is often a “dominant” allele (a version of the gene) that will present itself even when combined with the “recessive” allele. A common example is eye color: if you receive one copy of the dominant brown eye allele, then you’ll have brown eyes, regardless of the allele you’ve received from the other parent. This can result in multiple different genotypes (genetic makeups) for just two phenotypes (visible traits): Magical and Not Magical. Statistically, that should mean that the half-blood wizards should produce children with the following ratios (sorry to resurrect biology class, but genetics is my job and I love it):

Let’s use M to indicate a dominant Magical copy of the “magic gene,” and m to denominate Not Magical. Thus, both genotypes MM and Mm would encode the Magical trait, while mm would be Not Magical.

As shown above, a cross between two half-blood wizards (Mm and Mm) would statistically produce one non-magical child (or Squib) per every 3 magical children.

However, the three facts listed above don’t support this model of magical inheritance. Half-blood wizards expect their children to be magical with the same confidence as pure-bloods; we don’t hear about enough Squibs to support this 3:1 ratio. And two Muggles, presumably with no magical genes between them, can produce a fully-functional wizard. “Magical” seems to work like some kind of all-powerful gene: it can be fully expressed down an entire bloodline with just one copy introduced by one parent.

This breaks all of the models we commonly use for population genetics, which assume that gene variants have to come from somewhere (hence the term “gene pool”), and can’t be created out of thin air other than by random mutation (i.e. Hardy-Weinberg). Instead, new magical bloodlines are constantly being created through Muggle-born wizards, and very few are terminated with the birth of Squibs, indicating that the population of magicfolk will only grow.

Perhaps wizards did see a dip in population during the wars. But they’re still human. And humans procreate; as a species, it’s what we do. Based on the above logic, by far the most likely scenario is that the population of wizards has only continued increasing, rather than declining or even remaining steady.

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🌱 Lastly, I’ll mention a few more points that support the idea of a large UK and global wizard population, mostly regarding the infrastructure we see:

The UK Ministry of Magic is a huge governing body with hundreds of employees.

The British and Irish Quidditch League alone comprises thirteen teams of professional athletes and reserve players, the funding for which presumably comes from in-person match attendance.

The Quidditch World Cup stadium was built to hold one hundred-thousand seats, yet Arthur is still considered lucky to have obtained tickets.

TLDR: I think there are a lot of wizards out there! And Hogwarts is probably much bigger than we think.

This series is full of plot holes (as are most works of this magnitude; that’s ok), but I think it’s worth it to make meaning from the text we’re given. I’m not expecting to change anyone’s headcanon or assume that fics should be written in one particular way, but I found this fun to think about. I’ve no doubt left out a lot of points (some for brevity’s sake), which I’m happy to discuss! Let me know what you think!

— GreenhouseThree 🌿

P.S. – The same application of genetics cannot accurately be used to define gender, which exists on a spectrum and not as a binary. Well-informed scientists know this. I’m not an expert in biological sex and gender, but I’m happy to provide good research literature on the topic. Sorry (not sorry), JKR.

#harry potter #meta #wizard world #ao3 #fanfic writing

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fitnessthought · 9 months

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Is Sourdough Bread Good for Weight Loss? - A Healthier Choice

Sourdough bread, a staple in many cultures for centuries, has recently seen a resurgence in popularity. But beyond its unique taste and texture, there’s growing interest in its potential health benefits, particularly regarding weight loss. This report delves into the making of sourdough, its health and fermentation benefits, nutritional profile, and expert opinions to answer the question: Is sourdough bread good for weight loss?

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Making of Sourdough

Sourdough’s simplicity is one of its key attractions. Traditionally, it’s made from just three ingredients: flour, water, and salt. This simplicity is a stark contrast to many commercially produced breads that contain a plethora of additives. The slow fermentation process of sourdough, where natural yeasts and bacteria interact with the dough, is what sets it apart. This process not only imparts a distinct tangy flavor but also influences the bread’s health properties.

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Sourdough Health Benefits

Sourdough’s health benefits are closely tied to its fermentation process. Priya Tew, an award-winning dietitian, explains, “Genuine sourdough bread can be more easily digested and can be lower in glycemic index than some shop-bought bread.” This lower glycemic index means sourdough doesn’t spike blood sugar levels as sharply as other breads, which is a crucial factor in weight management.

Gut Health: The fermentation process increases prebiotic and probiotic-like properties, which can improve gut health. Sourdough made with whole grains offers additional fiber, enhancing these gut-friendly benefits.

Digestion: Sourdough might improve the digestion of gluten due to changes in wheat enzymes during fermentation. While not suitable for people with celiac disease, those sensitive to gluten might find sourdough easier to digest.

Healthy Aging: Sourdough, a staple in the Mediterranean diet, is linked to healthy aging. It has antioxidant, anti-hypertensive, anti-diabetic, and FODMAP-reducing qualities.

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Sourdough Fermentation Benefits:

The fermentation process in sourdough bread leads to an increase in prebiotic and probiotic-like properties, which are beneficial for gut health. A 2021 review in the journal Microorganisms highlights this, noting that these properties help improve gut health. Additionally, the fermentation process enhances the bioavailability of nutrients like calcium, phosphorus, and iron, making them more accessible to the body.

Nutritional Profile:

A slice of sourdough bread typically contains about 84 calories, 16 grams of carbohydrates, 1 gram of fiber, 3 grams of protein, and 1 gram of total fat. Laura Tilt, a registered dietitian, points out, “White sourdough is a source of carbohydrates, calcium, iron, vitamin B1, and B3, forming part of a healthy diet.” However, she advises opting for wholewheat varieties for higher fiber content.

Facts about Sourdough Bread

Historical Popularity Surge: Sourdough’s recent popularity isn’t just a modern trend. Its global market value skyrocketed from $298.7 million to a staggering $2.4 billion in 2018. This surge reflects a growing awareness and appreciation of sourdough’s unique qualities and health benefits.

Enhanced Taste with Health Benefits: The fermentation process in sourdough not only contributes to its health benefits but also enhances its taste. Priya Tew notes that fermentation produces amino acids that add extra flavor, despite a decreased salt content in the bread. This means you get a tasty bread that’s also good for you.

B12 Enrichment: The fermentation of plant-based foods like sourdough can lead to the enrichment of vitamin B12. This is particularly noteworthy since B12 is typically associated with animal-based foods, making sourdough a valuable addition to vegetarian diets.

Impact on Blood Sugar Levels: Sourdough bread’s fermentation process results in a lower glycemic index compared to regular bread. This means it has a less dramatic impact on blood sugar levels, making it a smarter choice for those managing diabetes or looking to maintain stable energy levels throughout the day.

Variety in Sourdough Types: The diversity of sourdough bread is vast. From traditional white sourdough to wholewheat and rye varieties, each type offers different nutritional benefits. For instance, rye sourdough is known for its higher fiber content, while traditional white sourdough is fortified with essential vitamins and minerals.

Expert Opinion of Sourdough Bread on Weight Loss:

Experts agree that sourdough can be part of a weight loss diet. Tilt reminds us, “All foods can be part of a weight loss diet; it’s about balance and portion size.” She suggests pairing sourdough with nutrient-dense foods like eggs or nut butter for a balanced meal. The high fiber content in sourdough, especially in wholegrain varieties, is linked to feeling full for longer, which is beneficial for weight management.

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FAQs around Is Sourdough Bread Good for Weight Loss?

Can sourdough bread help in weight loss?

Yes, sourdough bread can be part of a weight-loss diet. Its high fiber content, especially in wholegrain varieties, helps you feel full longer, which can aid in managing calorie intake.

Is sourdough bread lower in calories than regular bread?

Sourdough bread’s calorie content is comparable to many other types of bread. However, its nutritional composition, particularly its lower glycemic index, makes it a healthier choice that can fit into a weight loss diet.

Does sourdough bread cause blood sugar spikes?

Sourdough bread has a lower glycemic index compared to many other breads, meaning it causes a slower and less dramatic rise in blood sugar levels. This makes it a suitable option for those managing blood sugar levels.

Can I eat sourdough bread every day if I’m trying to lose weight?

Yes, you can include sourdough bread in your daily diet while trying to lose weight. Remember, balance and portion control are key. Pairing it with nutrient-dense foods can make your meals more satisfying and nutritionally balanced.

Is sourdough bread better than whole wheat bread for weight loss?

Sourdough and whole wheat breads each have their benefits. Sourdough’s fermentation process can make it easier to digest and lower in glycemic index, while whole wheat bread is typically higher in fiber. Your choice may depend on personal dietary needs and preferences.

Does the type of flour used in sourdough affect weight loss?

Yes, the type of flour affects the nutritional content of sourdough bread. Wholegrain flours are higher in fiber and nutrients compared to refined flours, making them a better choice for weight loss.

Is sourdough bread gluten-free?

No, traditional sourdough bread is not gluten-free as it is made from wheat flour. However, the fermentation process can break down some of the gluten, making it easier to digest for those with mild gluten sensitivities, but it is not suitable for individuals with celiac disease.

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Sourdough bread, with its unique fermentation process and nutritional profile, offers several health benefits that can support weight loss goals. Its lower glycemic index, coupled with a higher fiber content, especially in wholegrain varieties, makes it a healthier choice compared to many other breads. While sourdough alone isn’t a magic bullet for weight loss, it can be a valuable part of a balanced and nutrient-rich diet. Variety and moderation are key to a healthy diet and effective weight management.

#fitness #fitness thoughts #weight loss #yoga #breaking bad #lose weight #weight loss journey #metabolism

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imagination-confusion · 1 year

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Tell me more about the kittypet raids!

Especially how even though the cats can read, it's a little quirk for them. A hobby like gardening.

Oh! Can they garden? Maybe the clans saw them gardening one day and goes, "My idea now" like the firefly light sources.

What about the strays? Are they in league with the kingdoms or is it kind of just tense?

Lore please feed me lore I need lore!!

Oh wow! Howdy! Didn't expect an ask here honestly here lol

Well in my little headworld for Kittypet Kingdom the raids are mostly just retaliation to the clans. If they get raided, they raid back. If there's no attack then they do nothing basically. Might as well accept the peace and live as can be.

They train as necessary but honestly it's formed as self-defense. In fact they started reading because it's just a little quirk for them. A hobby. They started making writings and creating poems to tell stories to pass time.

The cats in Kittypet Kingdom in fact garden! The clans have seen them garden and the medicine cats started copying this because this makes keeping herbs fresher and actually easier to collect.

The strays do their own thing. They like Barley are neutrally grey. They can join the clans. They can join the kingdoms. They just do whatever they want. Not really bound to anyone.

Since the humans are gone, house cats in Kittypet Kingdom started exploring more of the town and abandoned buildings for resources and food.

They began making accessories and it became a trend in young cats to start wearing old human things and putting them on their bodies. Wearing flowers, wearing tattered capes. Decorating their homes with things they find neat.

I wanna say they're advanced but they reached a point to start experimenting and the clans started getting wise to the kittypets trickery and cunning. As far as them to compare them to foxes.

Clan cats just got together one day and just agreed to copy them, because it's just funny to me. They want to fight fire with fire and even the odds. They aren't stupid and the kittypets honestly expected as much for this to happen.

Negotiations still happen. Pawshire still tries to keep some peace and just wants some resolution. Whiskerhaven agrees while Clawmere isn't having any of it and goes, "They're always so keen on fighting I think we're far gone past peace."

Here's a little passage I wrote for it!

Amidst this evolving landscape, Pawshire Kingdom remained steadfast in its pursuit of resolution. King Oliver, wise and caring, believed in the power of peace. He understood the value of diplomacy, seeking to negotiate and find common ground between the disparate kingdoms. Queen Isabella of Whiskerhaven aligned with this sentiment, embracing the chance for harmony and coexistence.

However, Clawmere, ruled by the ever resolute Lord Percival, stood as a testament to skepticism. "Peace," he would scoff, his eyes reflecting years of conflict and distrust. "The clans have made it clear with their actions, and they will not be sated by mere words."

Despite the differing viewpoints, negotiations continued. Pawshire's hopefulness persevered, offering an olive branch even as the raids persisted. Whiskerhaven saw reason in dialogue, willing to build bridges. But Clawmere's stance remained unyielding, The scars remaining from battles long past.

#asks #warriors au #warrior cats #ramblings

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trustfallwithgod · 5 months

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Day 6: Everybody doubts, even the greats, but it’s all good

The place is given this name: “Massah and Meribah,” or “trial and contention.” These two words come from the same roots as the verbs used to describe the people’s “testing” and “quarrelling” against the Lord.

Imagine you’re Moses. You’ve seen God (kinda), you’ve heard God (He tells you to take off your shoes), He has let you perform miraculous feats with your staff. You have witnessed the plagues, you have witnessed the sea parting, you have seen manna in the desert. But after all that, God tells you to speak to the rock and the water will flow… instead you strike the rock. TWICE.

Imagine you’re St Peter. Given the grace to be the first recognize Jesus as the Messiah. Only other human who have actually walked on water (for a few moments but I dare anyone to top that :P), then you deny Jesus twice. Facepalm moment am I right? Not really.

That fragility allows God a crucial moment to come and work with our brokenness. With two of the Bible’s greatest heroes, these gentlemen may have faltered but in that moment, God still claimed Moses’ body on the day of his death (even though he could not enter the promised land), Peter still became the rock on which the church was built. As the first pope, Peter was asher 'al-habayith, second in hierarchy to Jesus in the kingdom. Peter would go on to be crucified.

Kintsugi (Japanese: 金継ぎ, romanized: "golden joinery"), also known as kintsukuroi (金繕い, "golden repair"), is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with urushi lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum.

Making the imperfect perfect

To often, we allow the inconvenient present to overshadow the glorious past. How many times has God saved your butt? How many times have coincidences rolled the odds in your favor? How many accidents avoided? How many times has “luck smiled”? In those circumstances, you might not have thought of God but His fingerprints are all over the “crime scene”.

complaining is an intellectual mistake, emphasizing the present, at the expense of another, the past by overplaying the significance of “how I feel right now”. This is where we often trip. It wouldn’t be fair (or just) to second guess our biblical heroes but they teach us a valuable lesson: the hope-filled trajectory of the story, encompassing past, present and future, rather than myopically zeroing-in on the present, demonstrates a larger truth: that God loves us.

And just like the property market, across a long period of time, the graphical trend tends to depict upward projection of “prosperity”. That is not to say that life is ultimately easy and bountiful but rather that His grace is sufficient.

The Lord “tests” his servants or the whole people in order to show and strengthen their faith. But we are not supposed to test him back. In fact, Jesus quotes Deuteronomy 6:16 when he is being tempted by the devil: “You shall not put the Lord your God to the test, as you tested him at Massah”

Testing implies doubt about the Lord’s goodness, generosity, and sincerity when we are the unreliable ones. How many of us fear that when the time comes to answer a question of faith, our prayer can be like that of Jesus “Not my will but Yours be done”?

When it comes to our bible heroes, we all share one thing in common: we thought as men do, rather than as how God thinks. And that’s not a bad thing, because our relationship with the divine is deepened whenever we allow Him to come into our lives.

#catholic #jesus christ #spiritualgrowth #faith in jesus #spiritual journey

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anthurak · 2 years

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It might be subtle, but has anyone else noticed how... odd Yang’s ability to change her eye color is compared to other semblances?

See, when looking over all of the semblances we’ve seen in RWBY so far, including those in expanded material like After the Fall and Roman Holiday, one interesting trend emerges, one that Yang’s semblance actually breaks.

There are no shapeshifting semblances.

More specifically, there seem to be almost no other semblances that allow a person to outright alter themselves physically. Even self-affecting semblances like those used by Hazel or Rhodes don’t really alter their bodies in a truly physical sense. It’s more that they are using their aura to affect their bodies but not actually change them physically.

That seems to be the common trend among all semblances: The projection of aura either internally or externally to produce an effect, but not one that changes you physically.

Indeed, when we consider the Branwen twins and peoples’ usual shock at their ability, it seems like the power to physically alter one’s own body lies purely within the realm of outright MAGIC.

And that’s not even getting into the fact that it’s unclear whether Yang’s ability to change her eye color is even part of her semblance. After all, we’ve seen her both use her semblance without her eyes changing color AND her eyes change color outside of combat when she’d have no reason to activate her semblance. It could be that the ability to change her eye color is something Yang can just... do.

It’s also worth noting the ONE other person with a semblance that allows for truly physical self-alteration: Ruby’s Petal Burst semblance that we now know allows her to flat out manipulate her physical form on a molecular level. And of course, Ruby herself has ambiguous ties to magic and the powers of the gods via her Silver Eyes and whatever else she may have going on, which certainly only makes Yang’s eye-shifting more notable.

I haven’t brought this up in a while now because there hasn’t been much in the way of direct hints in recent Volumes, but my long-time theory is that Yang has unknowingly inherited Raven’s animal-shifting magic. After all, we KNOW that children can in fact inherit magic from a parent, as we saw with Salem’s and Oz’s children.

Needless to say, much like Ruby and Weiss, Yang’s abilities seem to have a lot more going on then what might appear.

#rwby #rwby theory #rwby meta #Yang Xiao Long #rwby semblances #Yang inherited Raven's shapeshifting #its funny how Yang has been doing this really odd thing since her TRAILER but no one has ever questioned it

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smallestapplin · 2 years

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Ok I REALLY liked your snake hybrid ingo and Emmet. But let's keep the reptile trend. What if they had a dragon hybrid s/o. SFW and NSFW headcannons with snake hybrid Ingo/Emmet x Dragon hybrid reader 👉👈

Good taste.

🔞18+Only!🔞

🔲Ingo🔲

- dragon hybrids are extremely rare and seen as royalty. It doesn’t help your life span is so much longer.

- How a simple snake hybrid like himself landed a dragon hybrid like yourself, he’ll never know, but he’s so happy he did. He wears your courting scales but gets so flustered when you gift him gold and jewels.

- Unlike other reptile hybrids who need a basking spot, you are the basking spot. Ingo’s favorite thing to do is wrap his tail around yours and cuddle you, your body temperature is so warm he finds himself so relaxed and cozy with you.

- He went from his own den to yours, you lived in a cave on the side of of mountain but luckily it’s low enough to the ground, that he has no trouble coming and going.

- While Ingo always liked the idea of being a provider he picks up the househusband role fairly easy. You leave to collect large meal items for the most part, as well as anything else that it needed, like water, clothes, containers, etc.

- Ingo stays behind to get herbs, fruits, and to clean. He actually enjoys this, which you found odd, but he likes taking care of you.

- Shedding is now easier for the both of you.

- You have more keeled scales and more depth instead of smooth like him, so it’s a intimate and gentle process and of Ingo helping you with that.

- As with him, your warmth keeps water towels warmer for longer and it helps him. He finds these moments so personal and it’s not uncommon for him to pour his heart out to you during these.

🔞NSFW!🔞

- Unfortunately do to his snake anatomy you can’t exactly peg him.

- This doesn’t stop you from spoiling this man. Ingo is much weaker to your advances, especially when you caress him and drag your claws oh so gently across his body. It’ll have his cocks out in no time.

- Your praise makes him weak to.

- “Such a good mate for me, you deserve a reward.”

- As a dragon hybrid you have no issues pinning him down and riding him, in fact it’s his favorite position. Ingo is always so turned on by your strength, and you riding him allows him to lock his tail with yours.

- Breeding sessions sync up and neither of you leave the den once it starts.

- The nest he builds for you two is in the center of your hoard, where you feel you can protect him best.

- The second you’re in, your usual switch of a mate turns feral. You both fight for dominance, you let him win during these mainly cause he’s rarely like this with you.

- His dual cocks just plunge into you with no regard, his drool dripping down onto you as he growls and moans out. Ingo isn’t quiet at all, he constantly talks while holding his body flush with yours.

- “Fuck! So good, so good for me! Ah! My dear, mmm I’m gonna-gonna pump you full!”

- He wants nothing more than for be life long mates, and he will do all he can to prove he is a good one. Even if that means fucking you cockdrunk.

🔳Emmet🔳

- This snake hybrid never intended to be mated to practically royalty, but you can bet he acts like a trophy husband from those silly human shows he likes to watch at your den.

- He wears a necklace of your courting scales with pride and all the jewels you gifted him.

- Emmet is quite playful but learned your dragon strength is not to be messed with.

- He was upset when he learned you let him win all those times, as he watched you beat another much larger dragon hybrid off your territory.

- The only thing Emmet doesn’t do while you’re gone is prepare meals, he likes doing that with you! He sees it as a bonding activity.

- Your beautifully grey scaled mate latches onto you the second you’re back in the den, you’re his favorite cuddling spot and cuddle buddy! Your warmth makes him melt against you. Emmet particularly likes to wrap you up in his coils, leaving only a little for your tails to lock together, and laying against you like this.

- He feels so warm, protected, and loved like this. Especially when your deep rumbly purrs echo in the den.

- Emmet coos and showers you with all affection possible.

- He tries to show he loves you back much like another dragon would, but you aren’t with a dragon, you’re with your lovely snake mate Emmet. (He cries when you say that, he loves you so much.)

🔞NSFW!🔞

- absolutely fights you all the time for dominance, he likes winning more than anything! But he thinks it’s so hot when you finally use your full strength and pin him.

- He’ll never admit it to you, but whenever your show off your strength, pin him and fuck his brains out, makes him so hard for you. There is something about you wrestling him and fucking him like he’s only meant for your pleasure, that does things for him.

- Do not be mistaken though, he still loves tying you up or coiling tightly around you and shoving his cocks inside you.

- Breeding season is the worst, one of you has to be somewhat lucid or else someone is walking away with a new scar, either from his biting or your claws. But they are welcomed scars.

- Emmet is territorial much like you are, and during the breeding seasons it gets worse, so much so he never wants his cocks out of you cause he just wants to keep cumming in you as a claim.

- “Fuuuuck! Darling, my sweet mate! Oh shit, s-so good, ah, hnn don’t say my name like that! It…it’s already soo hard to not lose it.”

- Very much a chatter box about all he wants to do to you and how you feel around him.

- He’s weak to you and your addicting scent.

#ro threatened me with a damn good time #speed round!#smut #🔞🔞🔞#mdni #pokemon #pokemon imagines #pokemon x reader #pokémon #pokemon ingo #pokemon fluff #pokemon ingo x reader #pokemon smut #pokemon emmet x reader smut #pokemon emmet x reader #pokemon emmet #pokemon hybrid au #long post

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yaz-the-spaz · 2 years

Note

“pAYNt” “zAYN” not Payne lol Also I guess Ziams are gonna pretend Liam’s interview with Logan Paul doesn’t exist. Nothing about what he says indicates they’re a couple and if they are it’s not a healthy relationships. Why would Liam speak about not being able to reach out tonhis supposed partner

look feel free to believe that, no one's stopping you (just like no one's stopping me from believing what I believe) just as long as you're also willing to acknowledge that that same merch:

had L's all over it - a pretty interesting coincidence/choice given all the possible letters he could've chosen out of the entire alphabet, including the one his own name starts with which would've made a hell of a lot more sense too if paynt really was just zayn+paint

had colors highly associated with zayn & liam - band colors which zayn clearly still associates himself to or he wouldn't have named his album yellow metal, not to mention the fact that after watching this fandom for almost 12 damn years I'm pretty sure he's very aware of the fact that ziam fans often post yellow and red hearts to signify them and you would think if he didn't wanna fuel rumors he would've picked literally any other combination of colors out of the rainbow. and yet.

sectioned off the words in the block/square t-shirt design so that the 'payn' part stood alone - lol does this honestly even need further explanation like ??

was released exclusively during pride month of all months which should be a MAJOR 👀 👀👀 to anyone in the queer community (esp given the rampant rumors about zayn's sexuality) - and again needs no further explanation imo

immediately followed all this up days later by wearing the merch, again full of liam connections, while performing a snippet of a song he famously dueted with liam on, that liam also literally has a line from permanently tattooed on his body - again, he's watched the fandom for 12 years you think he hasn't seen ppl toting this song as a ziam anthem? or that he didn't see any of the comments about the merch? you truly think he has zero awareness of how this all looks together? you really think the song choice means absolutely nothing to either of them when liam got a line from it permanently inked into into his skin and zayn even put a refrain of it in one of his own songs on icarus falls? when they literally dueted/harmonized on it live almost every night for like two years? when liam cried the first time they had to perform it without zayn? all the possible songs zayn could've chosen to show off his famous high notes and he choses the one with THE MOST ziam history right smack in the middle of the entire internet dragging liam to hell and i'm supposed to believe that means absolutely nothing?? nah fam.

(I'm not even gonna get into the fact that liam was drunk and looked super uncomfortable or that that asshat, l0g4n p@ul, would do literally anything for clicks or that liam's team let liam - someone with a known drinking problem - continue to drink during the interview just to get through it cause all that's been hashed and re-hashed and should be a MAJOR red flag that something's not right to anyone paying an iota of attention)

go on believing it has nothing to do with liam if you want, but that's a hell of a lot of overlapping coincidences to really just be all coincidences in my book. once is an accident, twice is a coincidence, three times is a pattern. and this is wayyyyy more than three times, especially when you consider all the other big weirdly suspicious things they've been caught doing that link to each other

i mean if these are really all coincidences and they truly hate each other and don't talk or have any kind of connection/relationship with each other then i guess it's also just another big ol' coincidence that...

they both seem to really, really love the number 25 for some odd reason

or that they both seem weirdly dedicated to maintaining eyebrow slits even 10 whole years after they first started the trend between each other in 2012, despite the fact that they supposedly don't even talk anymore

2012

vs.

2015-2022 (and these are just a few of them btw, there's so many more)

or that the "e" in zayn's liam m.o.m. tattoo just so happens to double as an "a" in a way that makes it look suspiciously like it spells out liam

or that zayn just so happened to get an exact replica of the album artwork from liam's first single tattooed on his hand

[putting the rest under the cut cause this got wayyyy long]

or that liam just so happened to get/debut the 4 tattoo on his RING finger (RING!!) within days after pillowtalk was released and originally stylized as "PiLlOwT4lK" with a 4

or that neither the boys nor their families or friends/colleagues seem to be able to stop further fueling rumors by continuously interacting with, liking, and reposting from ziams:

x, x, x, x, x, x

...seriously there are soooo many instances of this and this is just the tip of the iceberg (i unfortunately reached my pic limit for this post but if i included even just a fraction of them this post would be 5 thousand miles long). honestly, if they all think we're just delusional crazies & weirdos why would they keep interacting with us and our posts? even when they're not even tagged (meaning they likely went looking for them)? and especially when so many of these posts are blatantly romantic/sexual and/or outright disrespectful to the women they're supposedly actually dating? (if you don't care to click i'll just go ahead and tell you that most of these literally have hashtags like #ziamisreal or #zerrieisfake/#zigiisfake, etc. plain as day and/or talk about ziam being queer/gay, coming out, and/or are edits of them literally in a very sexual or romantic pose with each other, i.e. things that cannot be interpreted any other way other than that they're queer as hell, their public relationships are fake as hell, and their families know it - i may reblog this with more pics later though for posterity if i have the time)

let's also not forget that twice now liam has spoken as if he's already married despite very much not being married (publicly anyway) and that zayn got a marriage poem tattoed despite also not being married and even being publicly single at the time - x, x, x

and don't even get me started on the damn cartier bracelets that they were both spotted wearing multiple times that were never connected to and/or seen on their respective girlfriends at the time

i mean at a certain point you literally gotta admit there's at least SOMETHING going on even if it's not a romantic relationship cause you honestly cannot make this stuff up, THIS IS TOO DAMN MANY "COINCIDENCES" TO BE GENUINE COINCIDENCES.

there's also tons of proof that most celebrity interviews are at least partially scripted and that people like liam are heavily media trained to make sure they stick to very specific pre-defined talking points (rebecca ferguson and the jonas brothers have talked about this - x, x). if you choose to believe everything in that interview was genuine and that it's a sign of a non-existent or unhealthy relationship, that's your choice. but as someone who's been in this fandom for almost a decade at this point, this is not the first time (and sadly probably won't be the last) that I've seen one of the boys outright lie on camera or seemingly do a complete personality 180 after saying/doing something totally different many times in the past.

do you know how many times various members of this boyband have said on camera that they don't talk to each other only to then turn around and say they never fell out of contact/never stopped being friends? it's truly baffling to me that anyone even believes that bs anymore with there is not only a literal mountain of evidence proving otherwise, but also plenty of admissions from the boys' own mouths themselves of this not actually being the case. so no, liam speaking about "not being able to reach out to his supposed partner" is not at all surprising to me. louis and harry had the same narrative not too long ago. so did zayn vs. the rest of ot4. and yet we have harry on camera recently admitting that they're all still friends and never had a falling out. this was of course followed up by liam calling zayn his "brother" which you can take how you will (he's obviously not gonna publicly call zayn his partner/husband/etc. when they're not out and when the majority of the fandom/gp still believes their relationship to be a bromance) but that's a pretty strange word choice to use for two people who aren't friends and aren't even in contact, so that alone should tell you something weird is up - if the giant trail of breadcrumbs already illustrated above somehow doesn't, that is.

furthermore, out of the hundreds of times liam's talked about zayn, he has almost always only ever had good things to say. there have literally only been about three notable instances where he's had something seemingly negative to say and at least two of those times happened in the company of extremely sketchy men who are known for doing literally anything for clicks (and during times where ziam rumors were reaching a fever pitch and it looked like someone was gunning for damage control). so excuse me if I choose to instead put my stock in the hundreds of other times where liam has only had nice things to say about zayn instead of the couple of weird times where he said something totally and completely out of character, and to pay more attention to all the million other things they do that say there is something going on between them.

again, you don't have to believe it's a romantic relationship, but at the very least you gotta suspect that you're being lied to about something because there is absolutely no way to explain most of this away. i mean this is stuff that has continued for OVER a decade, during most of which we were meant to believe they don't even speak to each other and you mean to tell me that the both of them have this many weird coincidences/linkages between them? (and these are only a few of the really big ones btw, not even getting to all the other smaller things!) and not only that but both them, their families, and their colleagues continue to show public support to the creepy weirdos online who supposedly constantly disrespect them and their relationships? like MAKE IT MAKE SENSE. either we're weird and delusional (in which case you would think they would've started ignoring us a long time ago). or we're onto something.

...I know what I believe ✌🏽🏳️‍🌈

#asks #anons #ziam #antis #ziam coincidences #ziam proof #zayn's tattoos #liam's 4 tattoo #eyebrow slit #25 #they're married #paynt by zayn #this is obviously not an exhaustive list #but these are the biggest/most damning things imo #ziam masterposts #(also idk why tumblr can't seem to put my read more link in the right place but whatever i'm done trying to fix it)

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inkykeiji · 4 years

Text

i can take you there but baby you won’t make it back

character: dabi | todoroki touya

notes: stepcest (kind of—ur parents aren’t married yet) with dabi-as-touya x a very naïve and inexperienced reader, normal!AU (no quirks, dabi also has tattoos over his scarred + fully healed skin), university!reader, implied yakuza!dabi, excessive use of the words niichan and good, praise kink, fingering, face fucking, title credit = save that shit by lil peep lmao uhhhh yeah i hc dabi as a very intelligent and perceptive individual soooo i feel like he’d be a master at reading a person & their emotions and then adapting his manipulation techniques

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), noncon/dubcon, slight somnophilia, emotional manipulation, toxic relationship, size difference, slight degradation, mentions of drug use

words: 7.1k

part 2.1 | part 2.2

synopsis:

“You want to be good for me, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Of course,” you respond instantly. Later, when you lay awake in your bed, you’ll feel ashamed by your actions, by how readily captivated you were with him, by how easily he was able to manipulate you with those sapphire eyes and that rough voice—

But in that moment, you’ll do anything to pull that little smile from him, anything to hear him tell you you’re good. You just want to be good.

Something dark and primal flashes in those gorgeous eyes as they gaze down at you, a small grin spreading across his face. “Of course,” he repeats softly.

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

Your dad’s been dating Rei for a while—nearly a year, now—when things begin to get serious, and he proposes to her.

She accepts, so it’s not exactly a surprise when she suggests you guys move in with her—she’s got more than enough space, she tells you, it’s just her and her son in that big old house—and your dad seems pretty thrilled about it. This was the next step before marriage, after all.

You like Rei well enough, she’s always been nothing but sweet to you, and anyway, your father’s relationship really isn’t any of your business or concern.

It isn’t that you don’t want to move in with her—her house is in a better part of the neighborhood, a standard detached upper-middle class home, and just a short walk from a bus stop that’ll take you directly to university, which you start in a week.

It’s just…You’re a little apprehensive.

You know she has kids. She mentions them in passing every once in a while, but you can’t for the life of you remember their names, or their ages, or how many of them there are. You know they don’t all live with her, that her relationship with her ex-husband is complicated and rocky at best.

But you’re still surprised to hear that only one of them, her eldest, lives with her. She tells you he’s five years older than you are, that he’s a clever, smart boy, going off on a tangent about how disappointed she is that he didn’t go to university, because ‘he would’ve done so well—he could’ve shone so brightly.’ Something about the way she says that, the way her voice sounds almost sad, makes anxiety turn to lead in your stomach. She talks about him as if he’s already a lost cause, but he’s only in his mid-twenties, isn’t he?

You understand the moment you see him. The man standing in front of you as you shift from foot to foot unsurely in the foyer of this unfamiliar house is about as far from what you anticipated as he could possibly be.

He’s tall, skin pale as moonlight, with jet black hair and the most stunning blue eyes you’ve ever seen. But that isn’t what captivates you. It isn’t the lip ring curled around his bottom lip snuggly, and it isn’t the tongue piercing you’re about to find out he’s hiding in his mouth, either.

Every inch of the exposed skin of his arms is covered in intricate, seamlessly flowing tattoos—or, for a moment, you thought it was tattoos, plural. Upon closer inspection, you realize that each arm is actually covered in one giant tattoo, giving a new definition to the term ‘sleeve’. It’s all black ink, not a splash of colour anywhere, depicting an extremely detailed and anatomically correct mechanical arm, complete with what would’ve been joints, ligaments and bones in the form of wires and steel.

The tattoos extend onto the tops of his hands, made to look as if surgical staples are peeling his skin back to reveal the robot beneath. This same tattoo continues up his neck, along his jaw and onto his cheeks, all the way to his bottom lip, spreading across his entire face and disappearing into his hairline and onto his ears. Finally, there’s a small portion of the tattoo underneath his eyes, the surgical staples lining the edges of the face tattoos, too.

It startles you—you’re not necessarily scared, you just…weren’t expecting that. But there’s no denying the rush of breath that involuntarily escapes your lips as your eyes search his face, raking over his body in a brazen way that should make you feel shameful, travelling back up to find him smirking smugly at you, raising an eyebrow as your eyes meet again.

The look in his eyes tells you he knows, knows what you’re thinking about, knows how undeniably attracted you are to him, and scalding heat floods your cheeks.

He chuckles a little, which does nothing but add insult to injury, and sharp anger slices through your chest at the way that you stomach absolutely drops at his gravelly voice. You can’t believe yourself, can’t believe your body is reacting and responding so readily to this man—this stranger.

He introduces himself as Touya, in that rough, deep voice that forces a jolt of electricity to run through your veins. You idly wonder what your name would sound like on his tongue, how it might sound if his voice dropped to a growl, find yourself stuck thinking about this for the rest of the night.

✰ ✰ ✰

To your disappointment, and as much as you are unabashedly interested in him, you don’t interact much with Touya for your first few weeks in the house—in fact, you barely see him at all.

This only piques your curiosity about him more, finding that you’re unable to tear your eyes from him on the rare occasion that you are in a room together. He catches you staring every single time, and he has the audacity to chuckle to himself and shake his head when his gaze meets yours, your eyes quickly darting away and cheeks burning at his laugh.

You begin gathering little tidbits of information about him, purely sourced from interactions you witness in the house, desperately praying for something that’ll give you an opportunity to start a conversation with him.

Your efforts prove fruitless when, almost a month and a half since you moved in, you’ve still only spoken a handful of words to him. You do learn a bit about him through observing, though.

You discover that he’s a smoker, which really doesn’t come as a shock at all. Marlboro’s are his favourite, and he’s always got a pack in his back pocket or rolled up in the short sleeve of his t-shirt. He must have them imported—Marlboro’s are incredibly rare to find all the way in Japan.

Touya must have a lot of things imported.

You find out that every other Thursday, Touya discreetly stuffs an absurdly large wad of cash—all composed of ten-thousand-yen bills—into his mom’s hands, forcing her fingers to curl around it. She fights him on it, every time, but he’s firm and adamant that she take it. It always ends with Rei giving him a small, watery smile, Touya pressing a kiss against the side of her head and murmuring that he loves her.

After you witness this interaction for the first time, you begin to notice that, while the house looks relatively normal on the outside, it is stuffed full of luxury on the inside. Flat-screen TVs each complete with full entertainment systems, state of the art appliances that are somehow up to date with all of the latest trends (including a smart fridge—absolutely ridiculous), custom made furniture, ornate rugs, a housekeeper that drops by every Sunday…

You have no idea what he does for work, but you think you’ve got at least some sort of idea when you catch him one night, just past 2AM, exiting his room and using a thumb to brush excess white powder off his nose. His eyes catch yours, pupils blown and shining in the low light, and he smiles darkly at you, winking once as he walks away.

You don’t ask—no one ever does.

You don’t ask about the crimson splattered on the toe of his boot, or why he sometimes smells metallic, like copper, the strong scent wafting after him and invading the halls as he stalks leisurely toward the bathroom. You don’t ask why he leaves the house at odd hours in the night, and you definitely don’t ask about the soft clinking and clicking you hear through the thin walls every so often while he cleans his gun at 3AM.

You’re not sure if it’s really any of your business, anyway. So you stay quiet, and continue to wait.

The opportunity finally comes one Wednesday in October, two weeks before Halloween, when you’re in the kitchen after school busy fixing yourself an afternoon snack. Touya comes home uncharacteristically early—you rarely see him before 10PM, so his entrance scares you, and you jump a little.

“Sorry,” he murmurs as he passes by behind you, just an inch too close, just enough so you can feel his body heat radiating off of him.

“It’s fine,” you say quietly, shaking your head a little and trying in vain to stop your hands from trembling as you spread peanut butter across a piece of bread.

You can feel his eyes on you, and it makes you nervous, makes your skin crawl in a way you’ve never felt before. He laughs a little at your struggling, leaning against the counter next to you and crossing his arms over his chest.

“You don’t have to be so nervous around me, y’know,” he says with a smirk, eyes glittering at the way your lips part in surprise, your breath stuttering a little. “I’m your niichan after all, aren’t I?”

You hadn’t even considered using the honorific until he himself uses it.

Your hands freeze, hovering over your plate, and you look over at him slowly. “You…Want me to call you that?”

“You can, if you’d like,” he says smoothly, nonchalantly, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. It makes no difference to him, he tells you, but when he finally looks back at you, you think you can see it in his eyes—a sharp, small glimmer of…of something. Something that makes your stomach twist in a way you can’t decide if you like or not.

But this is it, you think, this is your opening to finally begin talking to him.

So you do. And the smirk he gives you the first time you address him by the honorific, voice quivering slightly as you ask him where Rei normally keeps the blender, is nothing short of predatory.

“It’s on the top shelf. It’s too high for you, though,” he says, voice so sickly sweet it almost sounds mocking. “Let niichan get it for you,”

It isn’t, but you let him get it for you anyway.

And he knows—knows he’s got you the moment you gasp at the honorific leaving his lips, trying to hide it behind your hand, nodding quickly and squeaking out a thank you.

It starts after that. He begins playing with you; a sick, perverse game of cat and mouse, hunter and hunted, and you play your part perfectly.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it, if you said it didn’t send wicked sparks of excitement shooting up your spine and an intense fluttering in your stomach.

And it starts slow. It starts with gentle pet names—honey, sweetheart, princess—and fingertips trailing down your arm as he passes you. It starts with a large hand placed on the small of your back, guiding you—out of the house and into his car, out of the kitchen and into the living room, out of the hallway and into his bedroom—and with little pecks on your lips stolen when no one’s watching, quick kisses that leave you feeling exhilarated despite their chastity.

Suddenly, he’s home a hell of a lot more. He’s sitting too close to you on the couch while you curl up with a textbook, his thigh pressed against you and flesh burning hot through his black jeans. He’s joining the family dinner a few times a week, idly hooking and unhooking his ankle with yours beneath the table while smirking at you from across it.

Suddenly, he’s asking you if you need a ride to school, or if you need someone to pick you up. You don’t, you tell him, the bus is just fine, but he insists. It’s what niichans do, he says. He wants to take care of you, he says.

Who are you to deny him that, really?

✰ ✰ ✰

The first time you experience Touya angry is about a month after the inciting incident, when he catches you walking home with a few of your university friends.

He had texted you earlier that day, telling you that he—very regretfully, he said—would be unable to pick you up from school this afternoon because ‘something had come up’.

You didn’t question what it was—you knew he’d lie even if you did. So you accepted it obediently, reassured him that it was fine, that you’d find another way home.

You’re pretty sure if you had told him that you didn’t have any extra change on you for the bus suddenly whatever important thing that had ‘come up’ which so desperately needed his attention wouldn’t be so urgent anymore. But you didn’t want to be a bother, or inconvenience him, so you say nothing.

Two friends decide they’ll accompany you on your walk home, so you aren’t lonely, they claim. Normally, the walk from campus to your house is about thirty minutes, but that day it takes you nearly an hour, wasting time goofing around and walking slowly as you talk idly.

Touya’s already pissed that it’s taken you so long to arrive home, that you’ve ignored all of his extremely considerate texts asking if you’re alright, but when he sees you squished between two boys, giggling as the three of you stumble up your driveway—he’s fucking fuming.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he asks, voice calm and monotonous, leaning casually against the doorframe.

Your head snaps up—you swear he wasn’t there just a second ago—blood running cold.

His stance is relaxed, arms crossed loosely over his chest, lazily raising an eyebrow as your wide eyes meet his. Technically, the only indication that he’s furious is the blazing blue fire in his eyes, but your friends can read the tension in the air surrounding him, shuffling a little closer to you. This minuscule action does not go unnoticed by Touya, sharp jaw clenching once.

“You had niichan worried,”

You’re frozen a few feet away from the porch, unable to find your voice, to move your legs, to breathe at all.

“I didn’t know you had an older brother,”

Your eyes do not leave Touya’s as you speak, the words hoarse. “Oh, we’re—”

“Yeah,” Touya bites, irritation finally bleeding into his voice. “She does,” his eyes float back to yours. “Come here, princess,”

Your body snaps into action, moving automatically before you can even comprehend it, allowing Touya to tuck you into his side the moment you reach him.

Your hands are shaking, but you have no control over them as your fingers curl in his white t-shirt, clinging to him. To your surprise, the arm around your shoulders hugs you closer in response, thumb caressing you.

“Thanks for making sure she got home safely,” he tosses over his shoulder, managing to make the simple sentence sound like an insult, tone bordering on patronizing, while he turns on his heel, marching you both inside.

“I-I’m so sorry,” you’re rushing to say the moment the front door shuts behind you two, Touya’s arm still wrapped firmly around you.

He looks down at you coldly. “Don’t you dare pull shit like that again,” he tells you, eerily calm voice forcing spikes of icy dread up your spine. He pauses for a moment, letting his words sink in as his eyes bore into yours. “You had me worried sick,” he breathes out then, squeezing you again. You’re surprised in the sudden change of tone, feeling your chest swell at the thought of him fretting over you, a small smile gracing your lips.

“I…I did?”

Touya’s eyebrows furrow, as if he’s offended at your questioning, mood morphing in the span of a second. “Of course you fucking did,” he spits like you’re stupid, arm dropping. “Do you ever check your phone?”

“Wh-What?”

Touya rolls his eyes. “Check your phone,” he calls out airily as he begins walking into the kitchen, shaking his head a little, disappointment rolling off him in waves.

Hastily fishing your phone out of your bag, you’re astonished to see eight texts from him and three missed calls. You scroll through the texts quickly, each one making you feel more nauseous than the next. ‘Is everything okay? You should’ve been home by now’; ‘Please answer me, princess, you’re making your niichan nervous’; ‘Where are you? Answer my fucking calls already’. Guilt turns sour in your mouth and you hurry after him.

“I-I really am s-so sorry,” you force the words out, unsure as to why there are suddenly tears stinging your eyes. He isn’t even doing anything—his back is facing you as he nonchalantly begins brewing a pot of coffee.

But the thought of him being upset with you, of losing his approval, sends a sharp pain searing through your chest.

“Are you?” he asks, and although his voice holds no malice in it, it causes your whole body to stutter with a harsh breath.

“Yes,” you whimper out, latching onto his arm and tugging in an attempt to draw his eyes to yours, to see how regretful you are, the remorse written across your face. “I should’ve…That was so careless and inconsiderate of me,”

“It was,” he agrees simply, voice still light, as if he’s discussing something as mundane as the weather. “But you’ll never do it again, right?”

“Right,” you agree readily, breathing out the word before you even realize what you’re agreeing to.

“Tell niichan you’ll never worry him like that again,” he finally looks over at you.

“I-I’ll never worry you like that again, niichan, I pr-promise,”

His eyes hold yours for what feels like eons, before he finally twists his arm out of your grasp, instead wrapping it around you and tugging you against his body. You stay staring up at him, eyes wide and obedient, breath bated as you wait for your next order, so pliant and ready to serve him.

“Good,” he whispers, eyes finally softening, and you feel like you can breathe properly again. His free hand cups your face, thumb running along your lips, then your chin, then your jaw. “You want to be good for me, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Of course,” you respond instantly. Later, you’ll lay awake in your bed, feeling ashamed by your actions, by how readily captivated you were with him, by how easily he was able to manipulate you with those sapphire eyes and that rough voice—

But in that moment, you’ll do anything to pull that little smile from him, anything to hear him tell you you’re good. You just want to be good.

Something dark and primal flashes in those gorgeous eyes as they gaze down at you, a small grin spreading across his face. “Of course,” he repeats softly.

✰ ✰ ✰

He begins to trust you more. You meet his friends, each one terrifying in their own right. Jin is alright, although his brain is fried from drugs, and he talks to and contradicts himself a lot, earning the nickname Twice from Tomura.

Tomura horrifies you to your very core—a tall, lanky man with sunken red eyes and sickly pale skin who looks like he’s one bad day away from death—and Touya tells you very sternly to stay away from him.

A university student not unlike yourself, Keigo is your favourite. Keigo is the most normal, with his wild blonde hair and enticing gold eyes that always look like they’re playfully holding the secrets of the universe just out of your grasp.

Keigo’s brain is always going a hundred miles a minute, although you’d never guess it with his trademark lazy drawl, speaking as if he hasn’t got a care in the world. But he can always keep a conversation going, knows exactly what to say to avoid awkward silences or lulls in the discussion, and you appreciate that. You think he’s so cool—he has so much knowledge about the oddest things, everything and anything, ‘a walking encyclopedia’, Tomura calls it, and it fascinates you to no end.

It’s the speed, Touya tells you one night while you’re laying on the couch, your body on top of his, the pads of his fingers dragging down your back in rhythmic strokes. Speed is Keigo’s drug of choice, you find out. Speed is the reason why Keigo knows as much as he does.

“Sometimes he doesn’t sleep for days,” Touya says. “That’s how he has all the time to memorize everything he knows—though that big overactive brain of his plays a part in it, too,”

The thought inexplicably makes your heart sink in your chest, and you don’t say anything else. If Touya notices your shift in mood, he doesn’t mention it. You idly wonder what Touya’s drug of choice is, but you’re too scared of the answer to ask.

✰ ✰ ✰

It’s only a few nights later when you wake with a violent jolt, breathing laboured as you absentmindedly press your palm to your chest, trying in vain to calm your racing heart.

A nightmare.

You sit in silence for a moment, listening to the sound of your own harsh breaths echoing off the walls and debating what to do next. A minute later, you swing your legs over the side of the bed, wincing when your bare feet touch the cold hardwood, and pad down the hallway.

You try to trick yourself into believing that you aren’t using this purely as an excuse to spend the night with him. It really was so scary, you reason with yourself, it really has made you all shaken up…

Who are you kidding? You didn’t even attempt to go back to sleep.

You’ve been in his room plenty of times now—sitting daintily on his bed as he introduces you to new music, new movies, new books. Stuff that reminds him of you, he says, stuff that he thought you might be interested in. You’re grateful for it; there are so many things you’ve learned in the short time you’ve known him.

That isn’t all, though. There’s no denying the warmth that spreads through your body, that tiny excited flutter in your chest, when he calls your name and interlaces your fingers, leading you toward his room and telling you he’s got something to show you.

Yes, you’ve been in his room plenty of times now. But this is the first time you spend the night in his bed.

He’s still up, soft golden light leaking from under his closed bedroom door. Your hand quivers a little as you lift it to rap your knuckles against the wood. He appears in the doorway a moment later, leaning against the frame in a black t-shirt that looks like it’s a size or two too small for him, riding up to reveal a teasing sliver of milky skin, tips of his hipbones jutting out from the waistband of his plaid pajama pants.

“Princess? What is it?”

You didn’t realize you were staring, and you jump a little at his gravelly voice.

“Oh. I, um—Well, I just…had a nightmare a-and I can’t sleep,”

You can barely look him in the eyes as you say it, your cheeks burning. You both know it’s a lie.

But he plays along.

“Aw, baby,” he coos, drawing you into his arms, into his room, into his bed.

“You’re trembling,” he murmurs as he turns on his side to face you, propping his head up with a hand. “Poor thing. Was it a bad one?”

Your mouth feels like its been stuffed with cotton, rendering you incapable of speech, tongue dry and sluggish. You nod in response, heat seeping into your cheeks again at just how loudly your heart is thumping while you roll onto your side. There’s only a few inches of space between your bodies now, his hot breath fanning across your face as he speaks again.

“Do you want niichan to help you forget about it?”

The question hangs heavy in the air, and you suck your bottom lip into your mouth, eyes searching his. Your thighs squeeze together at the way his voice has dropped an octave, low and husky, familiar heat pooling in the depths of your belly. He waits patiently, lifting a hand to caress your cheek, then runs his fingertips down your bare arm, goosebumps following.

Finally, you nod. You think you see the corners of his lips quirk up into the slightest hint of a smirk, but you blink, and it’s gone.

“Here,” he whispers, hooking an arm around your waist and pulling you against him. Hand cupping your jaw, he tilts your face up and slots his mouth against yours.

You’ve kissed before, of course—in his bed, in yours, on the living room couch, on the kitchen counter with his hips shoved between your thighs—but this…this feels different.

These are kisses with intent, with purpose, with a goal in mind. These are kisses that keep you distracted—slow, soft, messy with saliva—as his hand slips down your body and between your thighs.

Your gasp breaks the kiss, wide eyes blinking up at him then fluttering shut as he brushes a knuckle against your clit. He hushes you, nimble fingers spreading your folds before he drags them up your slit, huffing out a laugh at how wet you already are.

“Were you thinking about something naughty before?” he gasps mockingly, sliding the pads of his fingers back down as he speaks.

His hand withdraws from your shorts and he orders you to lift your hips, tugging the waistband down your thighs. You squirm a little, forcing them further down your legs until you free yourself of them completely, eyes gazing up at him again, awaiting your next command.

Legs part dutifully as his hand travels back down to the apex of your thighs, pushing a finger into your soaking pussy.

It’s slow at first, thrusting leisurely with his middle finger a few times and loosening you up a little before adding his ring finger. Sapphire eyes watch his motions, captivated by how your eager little cunt sucks his fingers in selfishly.

“Look at that, huh?” he breathes, looking down at you. “Such a pretty little pussy you’ve got,”

You open your bleary eyes to peer at yourself, mesmerized by the way his fingers are pumping in and out of you, glistening in the dim light of his bedroom. He curls his fingers and you inhale sharply, hips twitching toward his palm.

“Oh?” he chuckles darkly, knuckles nudging the spot again. “Did niichan find something, baby?”

You don’t know, you’re not sure, you try to tell him, but all you can seem to manage is pathetic little whines while you nod your head.

“Have you ever touched yourself?” he’s asking as the pads of his fingers tap against that spot, your entire body jolting.

“Y-Yes,” you whimper out, a little breathlessly. “But it’s never felt like this,”

“Aw, baby,” he coos, and it’s so condescending. “Then you weren’t doing it right, sweetheart,”

He quickens his pace, chuckles at the way you try to desperately fuck yourself on his fingers at such an awkward angle.

“Poor little thing, can’t even get herself off properly,” he tsks. “You need your niichan to do it for you, don’t you?”

Soft whines spill from your throat as you nod eagerly, your stomach coiling tightly.

“One day,” he breathes, curling his fingers with a vengeance this time, your hips rolling up off the mattress. “When we have the time, I’ll teach you how to make yourself feel so good,”

He’s talking too much. You want to tell him this, tell him to shut the hell up, but every time you try to speak he presses the heel of his palm to your clit and grinds against it, effectively scattering all of your thoughts, soft mewls of niichan the only sound escaping your lips.

Can’t deny his voice is fucking hot though, a form of foreplay all on its own.

And he knows this, can read you like a goddamn book, especially when he’s got his fingers two knuckles deep inside of you. He can feel it, he tells you. You don’t even need to speak; he can feel your thoughts when his voice drops an octave and your cute little hole flutters, when he chuckles and your pussy clenches around his fingers—a slut for his voice, aren’t you?

“Pretty baby, you can’t do anything but nod dumbly, can you? Been fucked stupid by my fingers alone, huh?”

Your head barely moves, lost all control of your body by this point, only able to whimper in response.

“Gonna come all over my fingers, pretty girl?” the knuckle of his thumb begins grazing your clit in quick strokes. “C’mon, make a mess for niichan,”

And it’s pathetic, how quickly your body obeys. Your pussy squeezes once, twice, three times and you’re gushing all over his fingers, juices collecting in his palm, running down his wrist. You’re embarrassed—you’ve never cum that much before, have you?

Breathing still ragged, you nuzzle into his sheets, partially hiding your face from him. Nothing could hide the involuntary grin that forms on your lips, though. Arms snake under your boneless body, tugging a bit.

“Oh no, baby, we aren’t done yet,” Touya’s saying while he hoists you up, letting you lean heavily against him.

Head tilting in confusion, your glazed eyes find his. “Wh-What?”

He looks down at his lap and your gaze follows, a tiny whimper slipping past your lips at the bulge straining against his pants. “Doesn’t niichan deserve a nice reward for helping you forget that scary dream?”

Eyes darting back to his, you nod slowly, whispering out, “Yes. But—But…” But you’re hesitant; you’ve never done anything like this before. Shaking hands reach for the waistband of his pants, beginning to pull them down but freezing when the head of his cock peeks out.

Touya sighs. “Come on, you wanna be a good girl for niichan, don’t you?”

Of course. Of courses you do.

Then he wants you to touch him, he says. He’ll help you; he promises.

“But you gotta get it wet first,”

You ask how, and he laughs at you. “With your tongue, stupid,” he tells you.

He instructs you to kneel on the floor and you comply immediately, trembling legs folding beneath your body as you situate yourself between his knees. He inches forward on the bed a little, shuffling himself to the edge and caging you between his thighs. Bringing his cock close to your mouth, he taps the head against your closed lips.

They part instantly, obediently, his eyes flashing with something sinister as you take the head into your mouth and suck hesitantly, big eyes staring up at him waiting for approval.

He curses, his hips twitching ever so slightly, skin stretched taut over bony knuckles as a hand forms a fist in the sheets. Starting with kitten licks at first, the tip of your tongue barely touches him, tracing veins, then begins to gain more confidence as he groans a little, telling you what to you, that you’re doing good, so good for him.

Watching him through thick lashes, you have the audacity to look bashful as your tongue laves around the shaft, drenching it in saliva. A hand tangles in your hair and yanks, pulling you off his cock when he decides it’s sufficiently wet enough. Long fingers encircle your wrist, bringing your hand to form a fist around him.

“Like this,” he says, jerking your hand up and down.

You’re terrible at it, movements awkward and uncoordinated, but in that moment he doesn’t really care. He’s irritated a little, wondering out loud how anyone can be bad at handjobs while a large hand wraps around yours and forces you to speed up. Bad? Your heart sinks at the small three letter word, a hard lump forming in your throat, looking as though you may start crying.

But he cums quickly after that, ropes of searing hot white painting your cheeks and face. You watch him the entire time, panting a little, lips parted slightly and your tongue darts out to lick them, tasting him.

He laughs at your bitter reaction, and it’s such a patronizing sound.

“Don’t worry,” he says, collecting the cum off your face and forcing his fingers into your mouth. “Someday I’ll stuff your throat full of it.”

✰ ✰ ✰

You can no longer mention needing—no, wanting—anything around him anymore, because within the next few days it’s sitting pretty and perfect on your bed, propped up against your lace trimmed pillows.

He’s so good to you; you should be grateful you have such a generous niichan, one who eats you out and spoils you with gifts. You’re so spoiled.

And he tells you this, in the dead of night when you wake to find him shoving his cock into you, snarling a little at your soft whines of protest.

“Don’t be a brat,” he warns. Just be a good girl and take his cock. He does so much for you, can’t you be good for him?

Yes, yes, you want to be good for him, you want to be the best for him.

By this point you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve woken up in the middle of the night with his head between your thighs, prepping you to take him.

“Stay sleeping, baby,” he’ll tell you, words whispered into your hair as his cockhead nudges against your hole.

As if you could ever stay sleeping when only a few minutes later he’s pounding you into oblivion, large hand clasped over your mouth so tightly his blunt nails are digging into your cheek, so hard that it’s yanking your head back, neck beginning to ache.

He tells you to be quiet, “You don’t want anyone to hear, do you? Then we’d have to stop, and you don’t want that, right, sweetheart?”

You don’t, you whimper. Of course you don’t—you want whatever he wants, you want to be his perfect little baby, you want to be told how good you take his cock, the praise mumbled against your skin in a low, strained voice right before he fills you with cum.

✰ ✰ ✰

He disappears for a few days near the end of December. You have no idea where, Touya answering your curious texts with playful quips at first before he grows tired of it and tells you to stop fucking asking.

But eventually, he returns.

The front door slams shut and your body flinches with a jolt of excitement. Adrenaline spikes your blood when you hear his heavy boots colliding with the hardwood, getting louder, louder, louder…

He passes right by you, not glancing at you at all. Moments later, the sound of water hitting the tiled shower wall echoes down the hallway.

And you wait. Patiently, you wait, like the good little girl you are, not daring to move a muscle. Eventually he re-emerges, hair still damp, a few strands sticking to his neck.

With a groan, he collapses on the couch next to you, flopping his head into your lap and gazing up at you with glazed, blown sapphire eyes.

“You’re high,” you say softly, not accusatory, just an observation. He giggles a little.

“So what if I am?”

“What did you take?”

“Oh,” he gasps mockingly. “Oh no, baby, I can’t tell you that,”

Why? The question is burning on the tip of your tongue, and you can tell that he’s anticipating that to be your next response, but you bite down on your bottom lip, holding it in. You know his answer already, can practically hear his patronizing voice—Because good baby sisters aren’t supposed to know about stuff like this.

“Can I try some?” you ask instead.

All of the mirth fades from his eyes in an instant, and he moves in a flash despite his inebriated state, so quick you can barely tell what’s happening. His large hand wraps around your bicep in a bruising grasp, pulling you towards him as he sits up, his face an inch away from yours.

“Absolutely fucking not,” he spits, cobalt eyes blazing and voice rumbling against your chest. “And if I so much as catch wind that you’re using, have a mere feeling that you’ve tried it—even just once—I’ll slaughter you and the fucker you got it from. Do you understand me?”

Surprised tears spring into your eyes and you nod jerkily, body beginning to tremble as your breath gets caught in your throat. You want to tell him that you didn’t mean it, honest, you promise!; that you were just kidding around, you swear!, but you can’t, voice mangling itself with the hitched little breaths on the back of your tongue.

He growls at your silence, his grip around your arm tightening and you cry out, terrified that he might actually crush the bone with his bare hand.

“Say, yes Touya, I understand,”

“Y-Yes Touya, I understand,” you manage to stutter out, voice returning only at the command of a direct order, tears spilling over and rolling down your cheeks in pairs. His eyes search your face for a moment, his features contorted in fury, before he sneers at you, squeezing your arm once then roughly letting go, shoving you away from him.

You fall backward against the arm of the couch, heart thumping so vigorously you’re sure he can hear it. He groans, throwing his head back and closing his eyes, exasperated.

“Fuck,” he sighs, eyes opening to glare at the ceiling. “You’ve ruined my high,”

You stare at him, breath coming out in uneven huffs, clinging to the couch.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whisper, terrified to move lest you upset him more.

He’s silent for a moment, still staring up, until he lolls his head to the side, glancing at you through the corner of his eye. A small smirk spreads across his face.

“C’mere,” he says, nodding his head a little in indication.

“Wh-What?”

“C’mere,” he repeats. “Come make it up to me,”

Your body’s moving before you’ve given it permission to, crawling into his lap obediently, thighs on either side of his hips. His smirk widens, and you love it—you love how much control he has over you without even trying, you love the way a quiet whimper slips through your lips as his large hands begin kneading your flesh, running up your legs and grabbing your ass.

Lips trail up the column of your neck, and you tilt your head back, a silent plea for more. You can feel the way his lips curl into a grin against your skin, nipping at it a second later.

“So, how you gonna make it up to me? Huh?” he shifts his hips under you, pressing his hard cock into your clothed core. You whine a little, grinding against him.

“I’ve got a few ideas,” you breathe out while sharp teeth mar your collarbone.

“The hell you waiting for? Show me,”

You begin sliding down his body and he pushes on your shoulders, forcing you to your knees between his spread thighs. He watches you through half-lidded eyes, gaping pupils outlined by a thin ring of blue.

Holding his gaze, you lean forward with your pretty little tongue hanging out and begin licking along the straining bulge, tracing it slowly, the denim rough against your sensitive muscle. You relent though, lapping at his clothed cock in slow, long strokes, and his jeans are just thin enough for you to feel him pulse in response.

A giggle bubbles up past your lips, muffled by the denim, already beginning to feel heady as you pull simple reactions from him. Your mouth forms a cute little ‘o’ and you suck on him the best you can through his jeans, drooling all over his lap and soaking through the material.

The hand in your hair tightens into a fist, yanking hard and pulling your mouth away. “Stop fucking teasing,” he warns, a hint of something ominous in his voice.

You obey, because you always obey, tiny fingers working to quickly unbuckle his belt, pop the button, yank down the zipper. He aids you, lifting his hips and allowing you to tug his jeans down his thighs enough for his cock to spring out.

His own hand wraps around the shaft, you pausing mid-action as you reach for it.

“Open,” he demands, your dutiful lips parting immediately, letting him push his cock into the warm, wet cavern.

He sets a brutal, punishing pace from the start, refusing to give you a single moment to adjust. His other hand fists in your hair, forcing you to stay still as he rams his cock down your throat.

Reflexive tears burn your eyes, blurring your vision. You blink quickly to clear them, desperate to watch him, to catalogue all of his micro-expressions and the sound of his voice as he grunts out your name, to burn it into your mind, etch it into your very soul.

Touya’s head falls back against the couch, Adams apple bobbling with his rough whimpers, long neck and sharp collarbone on full display. If your mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied, you’d love to lick up his smooth skin, to trace the dips of his collarbone with your tongue and sign your name in brilliant splotches of blue and purple.

You’re gagging around his cock now, starting to feel lightheaded and struggling to inhale enough oxygen. The ache in your jaw is beginning to spread, but you ignore it, stretching your mouth open wider, to take more, to be good for him, to make him proud. It’s worth it for the hoarse, throaty moans you’re pulling from him, to hear your name shuddered out, followed by a breathy, “Fuck,”

He forces hot cum down your throat a moment later, and you choke on it, sputtering around his cock, throat spasming as it tries to force the foreign object out. He won’t let it, though. He holds your head in place, nose pressed against his pubic bone, and you can do nothing but take it, like a good little girl, like he tells you to.

But it’s all worth it. It’s all worth it, to hear his broken whines like that, to have him look down at you and pull your hair and tell you you’re good, so good for him.

And you’re sobbing by the end of it, gasping for air the moment he lets go of you, wheezing violently as your head collapses against his thigh.

“Did I—” you cough, voice raspy from having your throat fucked raw, “—Did I make it up to you, niichan?” you gaze up at him, eyelashes spiky with residual water. You’re the perfect picture of obedience, strands of hair stuck to your face where your salty tears have dried and swollen lips gleaming with saliva as you watch him with glittering eyes, waiting desperately for his praise.

He looks down at you, eyes devious and diabolical, chest heaving a little. “Of course you did,” he tells you, corners of his lips tugging up into a sharp smirk as you melt into him. “You always do, don’t you?”

#todoroki touya x reader #todoroki touya #dabi x reader #dabi smut #touya x reader #dabi may be a scumbag but he loves his momma #tomura baby i’m so sorry #promise u don’t horrify me at all oof #pls come horrify me more #christ if dabi isn’t touya we’re all gonna look like goddamn fools #a buncha clowns #anyway this is my first time posting something like this #n i haven’t written smut in an extremely long time #so pls be nice #actually u should always be nice #so pls be extra nice #no one beta’d this so there’s a good chance i’ll come back to it n revise it or whatever idk i’m just sick of looking at it rn #the ‘he talks too much’ is inspired by ch 271 w hawks where he’s all ‘he’ll keep talking’#dabi shut the fuck up challenge #prone to monologuing this boy is #also sorry abt the crazy sentences with a thousand commas #apparently now i’m oscar wilde w these run on sentences #idk i still kinda like em tho #i like oscar #tw pseudo-incest #tw noncon #tw dubcon #tw emotional manipulation #tw somnophilia #tw drugs

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discet · 2 years

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In one of the chapters Hop Pop implies that homophobia exists to some extent on Amphibia, so here's a kind of odd worldbuilding question, what's the general situation of LGBT rights across the kingdom?

CONGRATS ANON! YOUR ASK HAS UNLOCKED A NEW FEATURE: THE MAP

Just some terms real quick I will probably use

The Periphery: All regions outside the core The Wilderness: Unincorporated/Lost regions (Shaded Black) Imperial Age: 5000 year stretch of time. Starts with the Leviathan Dynasty acquiring the music box and uniting Amphibia and ended with Leif stealing the box 1000 years ago Dark Age: Most of Andrias's rule from when Leif stole the music box to the modern day.

Alright, onto your question. God I love world building. secondary world queer history is so much fun. World Building Dump below the line

Sexuality

Quick History: There was once a strong prejudice in Ancient Amphibia against any relationship that could not produce children. The toad warrior caste were expected to propagate new warriors for the empire and the lower worker/farmer class were expected to create more bodies to feed the factories. Newt Nobles up above were allowed some discretion in the form of a same sex paramour, but it was expected to be kept hidden as a secret.

This attitude and prejudice faded near the end of the imperial age as advances in robotics lessened the demand for people to feed the army and economy. This transition was the cultural trend Andrias was brought up in and he upheld it into the Dark Age. He let most of the laws or legal prescriptions against same sex couples fade out of memory if strike them from the books himself.

Without any legal or religious authority to go against it the prejudice faded from most of the lands, to the point that on the Periphery outside of a few stubborn families or small towns, is pretty much faded entirely by the time the girls arrive.

It is however held much stronger in the core where, while there is no legal consequence there is a social stigma that has lingered among a good swath of the populace. Its at a level where it can spark a serious debate/drama at, say, a family reunion

Ironically it is now the noble caste that probably holds onto the prejudice the strongest in the modern age, as biological children are necessary to inherit (Adopted Children Need Special Approval by the monarch to inherit).

In modern Toad Warrior culture, battle couples have become something respected and even encouraged, regardless of sexuality of that relationship.

As stated among the lower caste of commoners (mostly frogs/axolotls), stigma against same sex couples has largely faded outside of a few pockets. However same sex couple with no kids are expected to step up and adopt children orphaned within the community if they have no where to go. Refusing that communal responsibility could lead to the couple being seen as selfish.

Asexual/Aromantic peoples were probably faced a suffocating amount of pressure in the mid Imperial Age. Modern day those who choose to live a life alone for whatever reason are mostly left to it. Though they may face the same social pressure to adopt as childless same sex couples do. Or pressure to propagate the family line if they are of the noble caste.

Gender

Quick History: So here's the thing I realized when considering this question. Sexual dimorphism among the Amphibians seems pretty minor. So I think for a majority of history, the ability to change your name and gender presentation would have made socially transitioning pretty easy. I don't think there was as big a stigma at any point considering gender roles in Amphibia seem fairly lax, all things considered.

In fact same gender couples that could still reproduce probably escaped a lot of the legal prejudice same sex couples did in the Imperial age. (Though, notably, this a was probably accompanied by shitty 'the trans partner isn't really their chosen gender' style of comments)

As medical technology advanced in the Imperial Age, transitioning medically became the purview of the elite and wealthy and simply not available to the lower caste.

In the Dark Age, those who wish to medically transition in the core region will find it easy and available. ("...♫but luckily, the newts have free public healthcare!♫"). Medicine and surgery are both possible and available. Unfortunately if your out on the periphery... your gonna have more trouble.

All technology and scholarship is implied to be basically concentrated in Newtopia by the time the girls arrive. Wartwood seems to rely on folk medicine. If you are extremely lucky, you will know a witch who can help you magically transition like Maddie did for herself. However the Dark Arts are largely a lost art in most of the setting thanks to the witch hunts in the 4th century of the Dark Age. (Some lore I extrapolated from C!Marcy having read about the dark arts in canon but being unable to find a practitioner in all of Newtopia.) So you see social transitions more commonly in the periphery.

Also as a quick note: While there are definitely those who would identify as gender fluid or nonbinary if given the language to express it, those terms are not wide spread do to information and scholarship being so centralized in the setting, so they are largely left floundering to explain or discover themselves

#awiw #god this was fun #I love world building history #sorry if I missed a large group of people with ths #but I've been working on this for like 2 hours #amphibia

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rrasado · 3 years

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Can you do on what if the Twisted Wonderland (students and staffs) getting to Mc/Yuu world?

Welcome to My World

Since I have a five person rule in my requests I’ll be hand picking a few students and staff for this ^ ^.

When they wind up here instead.

Regardless whether it was on accident or not, all we know is that he’a gonna be two times more uptight than usual.

More so on being cautious dkdjdj look him being at NRC is somewhat of an adjustable change to him but being in our much more technological world, it’s a full on culture shock for him.

“Ha- are humans always this open with everything!?”

Shhh sebby inside voice. You might want to help him loosen up especially with the stares being given dkdnnd show him around historical sights and maybe he’ll calm down by a tinsey bit. Or take him somewhere the odd is the norm.

Sebek would definitely need time in thinking it over but at the end of the day he’ll hold a small appreciation for your world. He won’t admit it but he realizes just why you want to go home so badly.

How you manage to pull in this little destruction catalyst is beyond me and even Crowley but, hey he’s here and since his ni-San aint atound you’ll have to take charge. He isn’t entirely against being in your world. In fact the little curious mind of his likes the new place

It gives him more room to think given how much of his thought process is encoded to be accustomed to the world of twst, but he isn’t in twst so he gets to be curious and being curious is nice!

“Whoaaa there’s so many stalls here!”

Wholesome child gets to see the sights that he never saw, even through AI or online. It’s a literal whole new world. Don’t worry it’s a good thing but you’ll have to be patient in explaining basic things to him.

Overall Ortho would be very satisfied especially when he has to go back home once his brother comes to pick him up. He’d still rather be in twst but your world will always have a place in his robotic heart.

Good lord be prepared for an overly excited tourist that is cater. Pictures and selfies every minute I’m honestly impressed with this man’s internal phone storage dkndjd.

He’s even thinking of well, bragging about everything he sees in your world back at Heartslabyul, cater is an avid trend follower but the chance to be a trendsetter won’t be easily missed by his camera equipped hand.

“Kawaiiiii~! I’ve seen a lot of twisted wonderland but this is something cool!”

The first time in a while where he actullay likes the idea of going somewhere far again. Given how much his family moved due to his father’s work he had grown numb to sights but your world gave him whiplash.

Cater would definitely eat up the time given to actually explore your world as much as he can, after all not everyone can just visit their bestie’s place in another universe right?

Vargas sensei well- how should I put this. At least he has the spirit kdjdjdj. The coach doesn’t need to worry about being taken advantage of given how well- intimidating his stature is even in our world’s standards, maybe even beckon a lady or two passing by who knows.

If you take him somewhere north or anywhere that’s an open field he’ll give a boom of laughter and spill his insight on them all. Hey if you’re up for it maybe train here? Besides training one’s body chooses no place as he puts it

“Hah! I can rest easy knowing that my student has places like these to continue their path!”

Wholesome, that’s another way to describe it. Hey maybe try taking him to a live game or sport. Stadiums here are just as majestic as the one in nrc! He’ll admit that especially if the sportsmanship shown matches the venue’s regality.

In the end he finds your world just as equally endearing as twisted wonderland. As someone who values the body over magic. He’s proud to know there’s a place that doesn’t rely on the mystical system.

And we thought cater had it bad wait till you bring the shop keeper along. Depending on why or how he winded up in your world well- let’s just say he’ll take advantage of the time.

How to pacify him? Take him to your world’s or place’s night market, heck take him somewhere that’s bustling with the eccentric. It’ll give him the confirmation of how the other side of things doesn’t just exist in twisted wonderland alone.

“Ohhhh no wonder the little trickster demon know’s the ways in my shop! I’m getting a run for my money here huh heheh~”

Watch him use what he knows to bargain with your native vendors. Heck maybe even consult them of their business practices. Who knows maybe it might tip off the shop with a bit of an advantage. That’s what he says anyways.

In the end the experience is one hell of a ride, figuratively and literally you two were like an un stopping vehicle wandering all over the place jumping from here to there. Even if it’s time for him to joint his friends on the other side he’ll give a thumbs up of approval to your world.

#the utter fear I’d have regardless if even one of them gets here dkdj #sebek zigvolt #ortho shroud #cater diamond #ashton vargas #twst sam #twisted wonderland #twst #ツイステッドワンダーランド #twst headcanons #writings from the eclipse

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existslikepristin · 3 years

Text

Please, No Virginity Puns

The most recent thing I posted before tumblr. It was on Choerry's birthday, and I am proud of that.

Tags: TheLounge, Loona, Choerry, male reader insert, it's her birthday!, 100% butt stuff, I ate a thesaurus

~~~~~

It didn’t matter what you had to say anymore. Choerry was already on top of you, nude and keeping you muted with her tongue. How did you get there?

Well, moments prior, you were sitting next to Choerry at your small dinner table. She’s always insisted on sitting as close to you as possible in order to enable near-constant snuggling. It’s gotten a little annoying here and there, but you can’t help but concede to her innocent demands whenever she smiles.

Of course, and not that you’ve ever complained about this, that’s not to say that her demands aren’t always entirely innocent. Most of the time they are, but not always.

That day, for example, you woke her up with breakfast in bed. It wasn’t tradition, but you were just getting her back for the last time she did it for you. And what better day to present her, prone, with a pancake, pulverized potato, and porridge parfait platter… with toppings… than her birthday?!

It can be hard to tell if Choerry is acting or not at times, but you’d like to think that her cartoonish level of enthusiasm for the treat was entirely real. She carried that sunshine throughout the rest of your day, skipping through the park, greeting everybody on the way to, inside, and on the way out of The Lounge, at the surprise party that you helped all of her members get her with, and when she dragged you to her room.

Not a drop of alcohol had touched her lips that night, so it was all the more surprising when she shoved you onto her bed and stated matter-of-factly-but-also-vaguely that she wanted you to put a thing in her butt. Her words came out of her mouth like shimmery soap bubbles.

You had to pause for a moment to process her words. You were certainly up for some sexy times with Choerry. You had anticipated it was going to happen when she put your hand down her pants near the end of the birthday party with no attempt at subtlety. But her exact word choices had you rubbing your temples out of exasperation, even as she stripped herself down to her ridiculously cherry red lingerie.

Your chance to admire that rare view was lost to history, however. She removed the lingerie from her body while she claimed your lips. Your disappointment at not getting the opportunity to remove it yourself quickly faded when she popped back up though.

Her breasts were as perky as her attitude, and also your dick. She was quick to notice the latter and made quick work of your clothes too. She sighed satisfactorily at the sight of your sword and stooped to supply it with a suck and some slickening slobber, so you suspected the sex was starting summarily; more swiftly than standard, it seemed.

Concerned for her well being, you made sure to ask if she had lube available. Again, you weren’t going to complain about her gusto, but she lacked the anal experience that some of your mutual friends had, at least you assumed. Sure enough, there was a bottle mere feet from her reach in her drawer. She grabbed it and jumped back on top of you, pouring it generously over her ass crack and your cock with surprising accuracy for someone so engaged with a hot and heavy kiss.

You were sure you had something to say on the matter. Perhaps some additional words of caution, maybe some other words of encouragement. It didn’t matter what you had to say anymore. Choerry was already on top of you, nude and keeping you muted with her tongue. How did you-- come back around to the exact same thought that the story began with?

“It’s okay, right?”

You attempted to blink away your stupefaction. “O-okay?”

“Mhm! For me to… you know!” She leaned in and whispered directly into your ear, “Put your penis in my butt.”

Ah, yes. The demand that you had nearly forgotten in her flurry of kisses, now slightly reworded to include your dick in the equation. “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

“Just checking!”

“We’ve… done this before.”

“I know!” Choerry swooped back in to continue kissing you, implying that she had no intention of expounding further. Her fingers wrapped around your cock, massaging the whole length to ensure that the lube had maximum coverage.

Your breath caught as you felt her readjusting you, tapping you around between her legs as she tried to match you up with her intended target purely via exploration. Your cock was ground between her ass cheeks, the tip slid over her clit, and dipped briefly into her pussy. A groan was the only complaint you could give to only being given a half second of her fantastic heat.

You didn’t have to wait long to get it back. Her ass opened up to the pressure she applied against it with your dick, but exceptionally slowly. Choerry released a series of little exclamations into your mouth as she pushed. She tossed the lube bottle to the side and snatched your hand, curling her fingers into your palm.

Finally, the last pop came, and was followed by a short slide. With no more manual guidance necessary, she grabbed your other hand as well, which promptly slipped out of her grip considering the amount of lube present.

Choerry released you from your kissy bliss to look at her slippery hand, a mixture of anger and amusement on her face. She tried a couple more times to hold your hand with it, but you liked this look. You easily slithered your hand out from under hers every time she slapped down. It was like watching a cat trying to catch a laser pointer.

It was just another reminder that no matter how deep inside Choerry you may physically be, she’ll never stop bringing a goofy-ass smile to your face.

Finally, you relented and entwined your fingers with hers, locking your knuckles together so you wouldn’t fall apart. She glared down into your eyes, but a grin still crept through. “Thank you,” she said, lips tight and nose scrunched up.

With you fully in her grasp, Choerry straightened herself up, allowing you the opportunity to look up and down her sublime figure. Though her movement caused her to cause you to penetrate her a bit further which caused her to flinch slightly, she kept herself aloft on her knees to not go too far all at once. She closed her eyes and took a series of deep breaths there, as calmly as if she was meditating.

As much as you wanted to go ham on her ham, you didn’t want to hurt her, so you contented yourself with watching her chest rise and fall. “Happy birthday…” you whispered.

“You’ve already told me that today,” Choerry intoned, eyes still closed like she was drifting off into her own little world.

You laughed. “I was saying it to myself! Have you seen you?”

She smiled again, and said three words in a voice that made it seem like she was speaking to an audience on the edge of their seats, “Okay, I’m ready.”

Her fingers constricted around yours, so you questioned if she was, in fact, ready. But you wouldn’t be the one to stop her.

Choerry’s tight tush trucked its way toward the top of your tower twice to tighten her take on the task at the time, before torturously trending testicle-ward. She temporized without taking your entire tool.

So hypnotized were you with her graceful movement that you didn’t even notice the frustrated moan coming up your throat until it was too late.

Her eyes popped open. “I’m sorry!” She sounded like she meant it, too. “This is… tough.”

“Take your time,” you said, straining your voice for comic effect.

“Could have used that four paragraphs ago,” she said, continuing her extremely slow descent down your shaft.

The odd statement distracted you just long enough for Choerry to finish her drop. No longer did space separate your pelvises. You grew concerned again when she winced and bit her lip from the inside.

“Choerry, we really can do something else. Don’t hurt yourself please.”

She gave you an exaggerated, indignant gander. “Rhetorical question: Who gets to choose the cake on her birthday?”

You held in your “cake” joke.

“It’s me,” Choerry’s voice was far too chipper to make this talking-to sound as stern as you were sure she wanted it to come across as. “As birthday lady, I get to pick the cake, and I get to feed it to you if I want to.”

You held in your “cake feeding” joke.

“And tonight, the cake I pick is my bum.”

You opened your mouth to comment on her most excellent selection of the word “bum” in the midst of a scenario where your cock is fully inside of said bum, but you instead gasped a sharp breath.

Choerry ground forward, pulling your dick with her and anointing the lowermost part of your stomach with the juices being lightly sprinkled from her clit.

“Besiiides,” she continued, re-angling her hands to she could tickle the backs of yours, “We have all the lube! Even some that’s got a certain special flavor to it!”

“Just some?”

“Yeah, ooh,” she crooned, apparently quite enjoying the grind back down your pelvis, “I didn’t get it all at once. Now guess the flavor!”

You waited for her grinding to pause again to be able to think straight, “Does it start with a ‘C?’”

Her smile grew. “Yes!”

“Is it a fruit?”

“Yes!”

“Is it… cherry?”

“Failure!”

“Wha--”

“It’s coconut!”

If you weren’t so established in your hand holding with Choerry, you’d have palmed your face. Thankfully, thoughts of how she could have possibly expected you to guess that were pushed to the back of your mind as she resumed her removal of your breath with a series of fanciful body rolls.

Finally fucking her fanny felt fictional. For while not the first foray there, far-fetched was the philosophy that it was fielded often, the front being the favored fornication fissure for the foreseeable future. Unless, of course, you could make this an especially special session.

But woe was unto you. Choerry had the upper hand(s) figuratively as well as literally. But, perhaps, you thought, this was exactly what she wanted and you could wait your damn turn to take control.

And you liked letting her anally probe herself this way, so, you know, what were you to do but enjoy the ride?

Over the course of her self-imposed ravaging, Choerry’s meditative breaths became ragged. Her eyelids fluttered at regular intervals. Through it all, she held her phantasmagorical demeanor. A couple of times she reached for the lube bottle and shotgunned it somewhat inaccurately between her legs, but it did the job. You were happy to see that she was still considering her own comfort.

In fact, to your surprise, her mouth opened wide in a silent shout. Her core trembled anticipatorily. Her hands held yours with a colossally increased lewdness. And those two mystical words trickled from her tongue with a high-pitched susurration, “I’m… cumming…”

Choerry’s grinding came to a grinding halt. Her body jerked and she fell onto you. Your cock sprang free of her ass in, and as a result of, the same motion.

You untangled one of your hands to stroke her back in the most adoring fashion you could muster. After chewing on a thesaurus for the prior hour, you were sure neither of you really needed any more words.

She stayed there for a spell, and you were happy to let her. It was so late it was nearly no longer her birthday, but her birthday it still was. She deserved the rest, along with the rest of your undivided attention.

Her whole movement consisted of her back going up and down as her lungs attempted to revive her fighting spirit, and her thumb lovingly shifting over the divinatory lines on your palm. You wished she would do something about her hair plastered on your chin, but ninety-nine percent of paradise is paradise enough.

You were disappointed when Choerry rose once more, slimily straddling your stomach. She detached her hands from yours to give the hair on either side of her face a good backward flick over her shoulders, and she sighed with contentment.

It was a shock to hear her speak again after such a prolonged reticence, but her unerringly cheerful voice was entirely welcome nonetheless.

“More please.”

You couldn’t then, and you still can’t help but concede to her innocent demands. Her smile just touched the corner of her lips. Sure, some of her demands aren’t so innocent, but… How did you get here again?

#loona smut #kpop smut #choerry #male reader insert

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cyoc49 · 4 years

Text

Auto Pilot

James was 18 and already shaping up to be a disappointment in life. After spending four years of high school slacking off, doing drugs, and not caring about anything, he now found himself a freshman in college with little prospect of where to go. He was attending the local community college - he hadn’t even wanted to do that, but his parents threatened to kick him out and cut off funding if he didn’t do some higher education. Now he found himself wandering aimlessly around campus. He had no idea what his major would be, no plans of any kind, really. He wanted to stay as distant from this college experience as possible.

To be honest, James did sometimes think about his lack of aim in life. The truth was he truly did fear committing to anything in life, for the risk of making the wrong choice, and so invented a “don’t care” persona to cope with his lack of place in the world.

James arrived at his dorm, and made his way upstairs to his room. He shared it with some guy, Clide. They didn’t talk much. As he got to the door of his room, he noticed a package sitting in front of the door. He picked it up and inspected it. Relatively small, lightweight, addressed to him. Odd. Usually this type of thing would be sent to the mail room. As James entered his room, he put the package down on his desk. Clide wasn’t there, he was probably at class.

“Might as well check this thing out,” James said to himself as he opened the box. Inside was a big red button reading AUTO PILOT.

Whatever he had been expecting, it certainly wasn’t that. It was one of those comically oversized buttons like you saw in movies. He had never seen one this big in person. And what did “Auto Pilot” mean?

Looking back into the box, James found a small booklet labeled “User’s Manual”. He picked it up and read the contents:

“INCREDIBLE AUTO PILOT BUTTON

Life can be exhausting. School, jobs, bills, food, house troubles, and countless other decisions have to be made and executed every day. At the end of the day, is all the grind really worth it? Wouldn’t you rather take the easy route? The better route?

The Auto Pilot button is simple. Press it, and your life will be set to “auto pilot”. We’ve spent decades studying the behavior patterns of successful people, and have created a formula by which we have the correct response to every obstacle and issue you will ever face in your life. Job troubles? You’ll always be a hard worker who knows how to get what he wants. Social issues? You’ll have the right line for every occasion. You’ll be more outgoing, more ambitious, and best of all: you don’t have to do any of it. When you’re on auto pilot. You can sit back and watch as your body makes all the right decisions for you. One press is all that’s needed.

Enjoy your life on auto pilot!”

James checked the back to see if there was anything else. He didn’t know what to think. He almost wanted to laugh. It had to be a joke, but the tone of the pamphlet was so certain that it could also be the delusions of some eccentric billionaire. Ah well, at least he finally had something to go on his barren desk. He slid the auto pilot button to the back corner of his desk, then paused. He pressed down on the button, just to see what those big red buttons really feel like.

Unfortunately for James, one press is all that’s needed.

*click*

As the button clicked down, James’ body slumped.

His eyes went dead.

And then he suddenly smiled.

And he kept smiling.

James was 22 and life was looking pretty great. After pressing that button his freshman year, James completely turned his life around, as if overnight. He suddenly started paying attention in all his classes. He began going to the gym, and joined an intramural soccer team. By the end of his freshman year, James had gained 25 lbs of muscle, going from a boney 150 to a beefy 175. He also ended his year, with a 4.0 GPA, and used it to apply to the local state school. It just offered him more opportunities than community college, and had better networking circles. James got in handily, and that fall found himself moving across state to university.

Almost as soon as he landed on campus, James continued his life climbing. He declared majors in international business and finance, knowing the money opportunities that lay there. The course load was nothing for James, as he always worked on homework at maximum efficiency. In fact, he had time left over to join a club lacrosse team.

Through his finance classes and lacrosse practices, James came to realize the social circle he needed to join if he wanted to get ahead: The rich preps. They were the ones who exuded the aura of success he wanted to project, and the ones with the connections to jobs after college. He modeled himself after them. He began to dress like them, in khakis and pastels, and leather loafers. Vineyard Vines, Ralph Lauren, and Brooks Brothers invaded his closet. He began to manage his hair, combing it into a neat side part every morning with pomade. He researched golf news, followed stock market trends, so he would have topics to talk about with these preps.

Slowly, by bringing up the points he now new about with classmates, and by projecting the image of a successful young preppy professional, James came to be accepted as one of their own. One of the boys. His ultimate dream. From that point it was easy: James was Mr All American, effortlessly witty and charming. By the time he was a senior, James was on fire. He had served as captain of his lacrosse team for the past 2 years, was top of his business classes. He had met several of his new friend’s fathers (all of them CEOs), and in most cases the fathers ended up liking James more than their own children. James was a professional in all aspects, and he did it all with a bright, mindless smile.

The one thing James hadn’t accomplished in college was finding a girlfriend. Of course he’d had several offers, but he never took a woman to call his own. Every once in a while he found himself staring at the guys on the lacrosse team while they changed, but these were only fleeting feelings. Certainly not the most efficient way to live his life.

But this didn’t matter to James. In just a few months he would be graduating top of his business program, and thanks to the father of a friend he had a job lined up at Plexicorp, one of the biggest marketing chains in the nation. James was only 22 and he was a consummate professional. Is this what a perfect life looks like?

James was 30 and on top of the world. After graduation he went right into work at Plexicorp, and immediately assumed the stereotype of a “young urban professional”. His work ethic was tireless, and through a mixture of countless golf matches and the perfect water cooler humor, James quickly became the most popular guy in his office, and the model employee. He rose in the ranks quickly, and was now a regional manager with a six figure salary at only 30.

With extra cash to spare, James had gone to work giving his life an upgrade. He bought clothes from extremely expensive brands, though sticking to his preppy classics. He got salon quality pomade for the classic styling of his hair (which had only gotten lighter over the years), and routinely had dermatology and dental work done to keep his face looking as fresh as possible. He bought a serene little cookie cutter McMansion out in the suburbs. Even with all this going on, he perfectly worked time into his schedule for gym and nutrition, keeping his body in peak shape even as he got older. At age 30, James was quickly approaching a DILF.

With the perfect job, the perfect clothes, and the perfect body, you’d think James would have quickly found a suitable wife, or at least someone looking for a QoL upgrade. But even over the years, James still never found himself fully committed to women, even though he knew starting a family young would be most productive in the long term. In a particular night of conflicting emotions, James made his way to a leather bar on the outskirts of town, where a nice 50 year old man with a beard and a harness taught James what he had always known. He was gay. And he loved it.

There must have been a hole in the Auto Pilot system. Certainly heterosexuality would be most efficient for a successful life, but somehow James’ base feelings came through. Of course he had no way of knowing what was going on in his body. All he knew was what was most efficient, and what felt best were in opposition to each other right now.

Eventually, with a smile, the straight James won out. After his encounter with the leather clad friend, he quickly found himself not thinking about sex at all. A life of chastity was certainly good enough for him. Letting sex be for pleasure hardly worked out, as we see. Sex should be for utility. Creating the family. And to get a family, he needed a wife.

The following weekend James took a trip to his local country club, and after a bit of scouting, chatting, and brown-nosing, James was introduced to Amber, an interior decorator. She wasn’t the most brilliant with a conversation, but she was single and looking to marry and that was enough for James. They went on several incredibly vanilla movie and dinner dates, where hand holding was the most action either of them got. After 8 months, they married and moved in together.

Now standing here at 30, James looked in the mirror. He felt his decently-sized chest push against the cotton undershirt and mint green button up sitting on top. His rotund and muscular ass was perfectly wrapped by his khakis. He looked down at the counter of his bathroom. Marble. With plenty of space. Even with his tricky sex situation, James had to admit he had a great body and a great life. He had made (almost) all the right decisions, and was reaping plenty of the rewards. As far as living life, this was a pretty good way to do it.

James was 40, and life was perfect. The shareholders of Plexicorp were so impressed by his keen business instincts and impressive management, and at only 32 offered to make him the youngest shareholder in the history of the company. From there he went from “pretty well off” to “disgustingly wealthy”. James knew how to invest his money well, and from the moment of that promotion never worried about money again. He moved into a mansion in the nice part of town and upgraded his wardrobe to suits, suits, and more suits. Now that he was one of the elites, he had to project as such. He kept his appearance as clean and refined as possible at all times. He loved to flash off in a khaki suit (a nod to his preppy roots), and with his now perfectly-blonde hair, he was the absolute image of refinement. He had certainly aged like fine wine, and there was no doubt about it: James was a DILF.

The only sore spot in his life has been Amber. After years of trying and failing to conceive due to lack of excitement, Amber eventually asked to file for divorce. James knew he had to grant her this, and handled the proceedings quietly (and generously) to let go of her gently. At 35, James was finally meeting a dead end that his Auto Pilot skills were unable to find a solution to.

Until he had an investment meeting with a local stock analyst named Robert

Robert was an image of success, beauty, and sharpness that James had seen in only one other man: himself. It was almost unnatural how beautiful and crisp Robert was. His perfectly parted hair. His well-fit gray suit and polished dress shoes. As James eyed this man up and down, it dawned on him. Robert must have made every decision perfectly in life to look like an image of success in his his 30s, because he did. Robert had help from Auto Pilot too. And judging by the lack of a ring on his finger, and the way he was eyeing James in the exact same way James was eyeing him, James had a suspicion that Robert had the same problem he had.

Robert was someone whose every value, choice, and lifestyle matched up with James’.

James knew exactly the right decision to make.

The two flashed each other perfect smiles and firm handshakes, and although the topic of their first meeting stayed on stocks, it was clear there was a mutual spark between the two. They quickly decided that weekly investment meetings would be best, which turned into lunch meetings twice per week, which turned into dinner, which turned into something much more. The two took it slow, to be safe, but it was clear they were disgustingly perfect for each other. On Tuesdays and Thursdays they met up at the gym at 6AM to exercise together. They had quickly learned they wore the same suit size, and exchanged looks on several occasions. Robert taught James just how he achieved his razor sharp part, and James taught Robert how to match pocket squares to outfits. After a few years of dating they married in a picturesque countryside summer wedding, and both knew this one would last.

Now standing here at 40, James could genuinely say life was perfect. He had gone from an aimless place in his life to the top of the world, and although it had been a bumpy road, he was now with the perfect partner living a life of gentility. Checking his suited image in the mirror one last time, James left the bathroom and walked to the front door where Robert was waiting. The two had plans to attend an orchestra show and get dinner at the nicest restaurant in town.

James flashed Robert the perfect smile, and Robert returned the favor.

“Ready to go, darling?” James asked the man of his dreams.

“Of course, love.” Robert replied in a smooth tenor. The two briefly joined to kiss, before heading outside where the driver was waiting to take them into the city for another wonderful night.

#gaytf #preppy #gay #preppy tf #preppytf #stepfordization #straight to gay #gay to straight #suittf #suitandtie

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thunderon · 3 years

Note

i'm not an artist. However:

essentially my thoughts are that there is a robed figure on the cover who may or may not be hooded.

first of all, assuming this cover follows the same trend as the first two, there needs to be a person in the centre who is the focus of the cover. obviously there's a hand there that presumably goes on the left. where it gets confusing is the big hole in the fabric.

when going by the poses of the last two covers, the hole is where a leg would be. it doesn't really make sense for the figure to be standing on one leg, and i'd be surprised if it was a person with only one leg. also! on the covers for gtn/htn, both gideon and harrow have their right arm outstretched. it would be odd if this wasn't the case for ntn.

(i also had the thought that they might be a ghost or something spectral due to the background possibly being the river, but that's really another discussion.)

with that in mind, if the fabric isn't part of the body of a garment, it could be part of a long trailing sleeve! and those are typically associated with robes. what lends this more credit in my mind is the fact that it's a dark colour. and which house wears old dark robes? the ninth! i suppose this could also lend credence to a lot of the nona = body theories, but that's beside the point.

this brings us to the bottom right. someone has already pointed out it looks like fabric, and to me it looks like a cape/cloak/robe billowing out behind someone or piled on the floor around someone--like when it's longer when a person is tall. with that in mind, it could be positioned further up (but i was in a rush) however this is mostly conjecture at this point.

it's also a lighter grey colour (a little like the sleeve) but it appears to have a pattern. consider that the sleeve could be the inner side of the fabric, and that the outer surface has a pattern on it. and! a detail that might be easy to miss:

see that in the top right, to the left of the yellow ball? that looks like the end of a stole! which i consider more evidence for my "ninth house robes" theory.

there's also the darker part to the left of the patterned fabric. i assume this is clothes being worn under the robes, cast in shadow as well as being dark-coloured so it's difficult to see. the one issue i have with this is the lighter patch that is on the left. i have no idea what that is, but i guess it could be another hole? it seems unlikely though. maybe the figure is holding or wearing something that trails down?

something else to note; i've seen people theorising the yellow orb is a gas mask or something similar, but given the composition i've arranged here it doesn't seem likely. i couldn't tell you what it is, but i'd be willing to guess that it could be a recurring element on that side of the cover. given the left side is more blue and bone-y, i could see the right side being in contrast to that.

lastly, the reason i think the figure might be hooded is because we don't know nona's identity, not to mention the imagery of a hooded figure. that's more a guess than actually evidence though. however we do know that harrow + gideon wore their hoods up when arriving at canaan house, so it's something the ninth house actually Does!!

thank you for bearing with me 😭 i genuinely just thought of this like an hour ago but i think it holds some merit! if you or anyone else notices anything please feel free to add on, this is by no means a complete idea

oooooh very interesting thank you for sharing!!! i liked your idea about the stole… now here me out… (im not sold on any idea single idea but i will admit im a gas mask truther) i think the second ‘n’ would be higher up because it’ll be part of the ‘Nona’ (“the ninth” has yet to be stylized on a cover) and because stoles (that ive seen) usually aren’t floor length. it could also be part of a strap of some sort? but anyways that position would put it everything as a sleeve area and the (possible) gas mask would be at the right height to be held by a hand… but that’s just my little thoughts on it. we will find out tomorrow!!!!

#asks #thank you so much for sharing this was interesting to read :)#i could be wrong! i have been wrong about many things many times!#but it feels like a gas mask to me personally esp after tor tweeted what tor tweeted #nona the ninth #long post

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lexosaurus · 4 years

Text

Upload Complete

A late fic for day 3 of dp side hoes week!

Character: Wes Theme: Denial

---

Wes held his breath, watching the upload bar slowly increase.

Uploading 94%

Anxious energy buzzed in his veins, but he was still. Frozen. As if a single muscle twitch would bring this all crashing down.

Uploading 95%

It wouldn’t have been the first time his plans were thwarted at the last minute. Just last week he had been on his way home, camera in hand, when suddenly he felt the familiar chill of intangibility pass over him and his camera swiped from his clutches. He looked up to see Phantom, in all his egotistical glory, reach inside the camera, grab the memory card, and melt it in his palms.

Uploading 96%

But with each failure, months of countless iterations of the same plan, he had grown. He had learned. He had become more cunning, more discrete.

It really was only a matter of time before this day would come.

Uploading 97%

He was so close.

So close.

Uploading 98%

His mouth was a dessert. His hands clutched the edge of his desk, shaking. He couldn’t remember when the last time he blinked was, but it didn’t matter, nothing else mattered right now except how close he was he was so close.

Uploading 99%

So close.

Finally.

After all this time.

It was happening.

Upload complete

A breath escaped his lips. And then another. And another. Until the breaths quickened, and sound followed. A laugh. A breathy, weightless laugh.

He leaned back in his chair, allowing hilarity to overtake his body. This was bliss, it was pure bliss.

Wes stretched his arms out and stared up at the ceiling.

He had won.

After months of trying, he finally caught the perfect video showcasing the tail end of Phantom’s fight today with the infamous mecha ghost Skulker. Phantom sucked the ghost into his ghost thermos, flew behind a tree, and glanced around suspiciously for a brief moment before triggering his transformation sequence. Then, like icing on the cake, Foley and Manson appeared and had a conversation with Danny Fenton about the fight that Danny Phantom had just gone through. Fenton displayed the ecto-thermos and uttered the perfect lines about needing to “get him back to the Ghost Zone,” before turning his hand and the thermos intangible and shoving the object into his backpack.

The video was, by all accounts, perfect. Simply perfect. It was the exact undeniable proof that Wes had spent months trying to capture.

Now it was online for the world to see.

All he had to do now was share the link to the popular Phantom fan forum, sit back, and watch the internet work its magic.

If Wes was right, Phantom would be trending in an hour. News sites would be covering him by tonight. By tomorrow, everyone would know who—or what—Fenton really was.

A liar. An abomination. A danger to society.

All because of Wes.

He was victorious.

This was—

---

—wrong.

Wes pressed a hand against the glass, his eyes wide as he watched as red streaked against the green splatters dotting the panel.

This was all wrong.

“Come to gloat?” an icy voice sounded from beyond the glass wall.

“I never wanted this,” Wes whispered. He couldn’t take his eyes off the green stains on the glass, on the wall, on the floor. It popped against the otherwise barren room, painting the bleached scene with a terrifying story.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” The voice coughed, and then groaned. “You did this to me, Wes. This is your fault.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Shut up.”

Wes’s eyes snapped over to the figure beyond the glass. It was sallow, decrepit. Nothing more than a bony mess of black, white, and green in a torn jumpsuit.

And it finally connected in Wes’s brain where he’d seen Phantom’s uniform before. It looked exactly like the suits worn in ecto-science labs.

Because when he saw the ghost now, Phantom looked right at home. He looked like he was made to be a lab rat.

And that made Wes nauseous.

“I didn’t ask to be this way. I didn’t want to be—to be a freak.” Phantom’s head lolled back against the wall. A trickle of ectoplasm dripped from his chin, peppering the floor with even more green, but he made no move to clean his face.

Wes’s hand fell to his side. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t care.”

“I’m gonna get you out of here.” His voice didn’t sound too convincing. It sounded pathetic, weak.

Phantom snorted, but otherwise didn’t respond.

“I will,” Wes reiterated.

“Whatever you say.”

His pulse quickened, and before he could stop himself he choked out, “I just need to know. I need to know. What—what are you?”

Phantom’s eyes narrowed, snapping onto Wes.

Wes could have forgotten how to breathe. “Please, I need to know. Are you dead?”

“No.”

Wes’s blood ran cold.

“As in no, you don’t get to know what I am.” Phantom said. “You don’t get that privilege. Do you understand, Weston? You posted that video knowing that everyone, everyone, would see it, including the federal organization established to capture me. You knew deep down that this was going to happen. You just didn’t care because the only thing that mattered was that you were right and everyone else was just in too deep denial to see it, am I right?”

It was so hard to breathe.

Phantom leaned forward, his head drooping down to his chest. “You took away everything. I have nothing left. So now you can just sit there for the rest of your life and think about the fact that you have no idea if the person who you condemned to a lifetime of imprisonment was human, or ghost, or something in between.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s too bad.”

“I’m trying to do the right thing, you know,” Wes said, frustration seeping into his tone. “I just threw away my life too by doing this. I can’t exactly go home either.”

“Oh what, am I supposed to thank you now? For ruining my life but then coming back to ‘save’ me?” Phantom snapped. “Shut the fuck up.”

He could have left. He could have just turned around and left Phantom to rot in this compound for the rest of his afterlife.

But no, he’d come so far. And as today, he was officially a criminal.

He could never go home now. He couldn’t waste this trip.

And besides, he knew that he needed Phantom’s help in escaping the compound. This plan was a one way trip, put together after months of planning. Months of working with one of the most notorious hackers Wes knew online.

This was the best plan he had. But it wasn’t foolproof.

“I can get you in,” the hacker said from the other side of the screen. “After that? You’re on your own.”

Wes nodded. “That’s all I need.”

Silas was silent for a moment. “You know, when you reached out to me on Reddit, I thought you were delusional at first. I thought that this plan would never work, that you were out of your mind. But I figured I’d entertain you for a minute. At least hear you out before I wrote you off completely.”

“And I’m grateful.”

“But now, Wes? Now I just think you have a death wish.”

“You don’t understand,” Wes said bitterly. “This is my fault. I need to get Phantom out.”

“You’ll kill yourself before you make it out of there.”

“Please, just tell me what I need to know.”

There was a fingerprint scanner mounted on the wall next to the glass pane. Wes approached it cautiously, trying to ignore Phantom’s eyes that tracked his every move, and stopped before the wall.

“The hacker I’ve been working with programmed my thumb into this lock,” Wes said. “I’ll unlock it, then we run. Once we clear the door, you phase us out of here. Okay?”

Phantom didn’t say anything, but Wes didn’t need him to. There was no alternative plan, no other way to make it out of here intact. It was either this, or they both die.

Wes lifted his trembling hand, pressing his thumb to the scanner. The scanner came to life, lighting up green as it read his finger print.

For a moment, nothing happened. Deafening silence permeated the room, the mounting pressure slowly suffocating Wes’s lungs. Each millisecond that the scanner spent on his thumb felt like an eternity.

And then, just when he felt like he was about to collapse, the scanner turned red.

Time stopped. Wes’s eyes widened, and he drew in a short, shuddering breath.

No.

The blaring started.

NO!

The room filled with red light and high-pitched wailing. Wes’s legs cemented to the ground, and all he could do was turn his head and watch in horror as Phantom’s terrified eyes rolled to the back of his head before the ghost collapsed on the ground.

This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t have been real.

How did their plan fail?

Wes heard the door open, and the sounds of footsteps filled surrounded him. He couldn’t turn around, he couldn’t watch as his worst fears unfolded in front of him.

“So you were the rogue fingerprint,” a deep voice from behind him said. “You know, we thought it was odd when all of the sudden one day, a twenty seventh fingerprint suddenly was logged into the scanner seemingly overnight.”

No…

“Teenager, huh? Always think you’re invincible.”

Wes opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

His body was numb. He couldn’t feel his limbs. His brain was screaming at him to run, get out of here, but he couldn’t move. He was frozen, not because of anything the government had done to him.

No. It was fear.

“Too bad for you, you’re not as invincible as you think you are.”

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Thanks for reading!

#danny phantom #dp side hoes week 2021 #wes weston #phicc #my writing #angst #😈😈😈#just a little bit of pain #as a treat

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