#I’m so stuck between not wanting to die but also finding it too hard to live

[mitsvriii]

Lost Child

TW’s: mentions of child abandonment

Pairings: Kaedehara Kazuha x reader

Word Count: 930+

A/N: I might do this scenario with other characters.

You were aiming to have a good day today, not to have some random child clinging onto your leg like he was going to die if he let go.

He didn’t even tell you his name, he just saw you and quite literally tackled you. And ever since then he hasn’t let go. So cue you walking around with a child stuck onto your leg.

You groaned in annoyance as you looked down at the kid, he wouldn’t tell you what his name was so you were searching around for anyone who might be looking for a child.

Much to your dismay there seemed to be no one looking for one. Did they perhaps drop him off permanently? You hated to think so but that could well be the case.

You sighed as you stopped walking, causing the kid looked up at you. “If you won’t tell me your name this is going to take longer”, you crossed your arms.

The kid shook his head as he buried his face in your leg, still clinging onto you. You sighed again and went to pick him up, which he gladly complied to. This kid seemed almost, familiar with you.

You brushed it off as you adjusted him on your hip. You continued on you quest to find this kid’s parents, despite knowing it might all be in vain.

“Okay then little buddy, I guess we’re doing this the hard way”, you made your way done to the port. Maybe a sailor had seen something related to this kid.

You asked around for a few minutes, but ended up with as much information you had started with. You could ask Mr. Zhongli, he was the most knowledgeable man in Liyue after all. But he was down with a cold that you didn’t want you nor the kid to get.

Beidou could know something then? Maybe so, she’s basically know everyone in Liyue. She could know if someone had a child that looks like the one you’re holding. Let’s see…she should be back from her venture to Sumeru. If you’ve counted the days right, that is.

You decided to see if you were right, and it seemed so because a few feet down the port was The Crux. You breathed out in what seemed to be relief as you head there with the kid still clutching onto you. He was a quiet kid for someone his age.

And just your luck, you didn’t see Beidou anywhere on the ship. Nor on the port. Great.

”Dove?” You heard the familiar voice speak. You turned around to see Kazuha looking at you in somewhat confusion, “Are you…Is that your child?”

Your eyes widened as you remembered why we were here in the first place, seeing Kazuha caught you off guard. “Oh, no! It’s um, I found him. I was looking for Beidou because I thought she might know some people who had a kid that looks like him.”

Kazuha nodded, seemingly understanding the situation now, “I’m afraid she has already left for the Jade Chamber, but I can be of assistance.” He put his hand to his chest and smiled.

“That would be wonderful, thank you”, you smiled back as you glanced down at the kid who seemed to he fascinated with Kazuha’s maple haori.

“Let’s see, where have you looked so far?” Kazuha asked, stepping closer to let the child tug on his haori. Of course he would notice the child’s gaze on it.

“All around the harbor, and I would’ve tried the villages but I doubt a kid this small would’ve made it from there to here unscathed.”

Kazuha nodded at the information, “I don’t mean to be harsh, but have you considered this child to be an orphan?”

“What? What do you mean?” You glanced between Kazuha and the child. You hadn’t thought of that, actually.

“Well for example, he seems to be clinging onto you tightly. A child that had parents would he looking for them as-well, and not seeking comfort from a complete stranger. He also seems to be quite skinny, perhaps he’s homeless, too.”

Kazuha met your gaze, “I also believe if the parents did throw out this child, then someone would’ve saw it and reported it to the Millelith. Liyue is far from empty, dove.”

Your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape as you took in Kazuha’s words. He was right because it all makes sense. But what would you two do with the child? You could just drop him off with the Millelith but he seemed so safe and comfortable with you…

“Kazuha would you be up to keeping him?” You question caught him off guard as you stared sr you. “I know how it sounds but he seems so safe with me…and I’d hate to have to drop him off with the Millelith.”

Kazuha’s brows furrowed in thought, “I suppose we can, but I am away with The Crux often…I would have to move in with you if that’s the case.”

“I’m fine with that”, you responded quickly, “yeah you can move in.”

Kazuha nodded as he moved in to kiss the top if your head, “I’ll go inform Beidou of our plans. Does he have a name?”

You looked down at the kid who was glancing between you and Kazuha. You thought for a moment before responding, “Hajime, for a new beginning.”

Kazuha seemed pleased with the name before he nodded and left to go see Beidou. The child looked up at you, a small smile on his face. You smiled back, before watching Kazuha disappear in the crowd.

#kaedehara x reader #kaedehara x you #kaedehara kazuha #kazuha x reader #kazuha #kazuha fluff #kazuha x you #genshin impact liyue #genshin impact #genshin fluff #liyue harbor #zhongli #beidou #ningguang

[itsgothgirlthyme]

chapter 1: the plummet of doom

next chapter

stranger things g/t

hi! i had multiple asks for this so i finally wrote something for it!! i hope i can deliver, based on what i made last year. i wanna continue this story :) ugHh! summary is, dustin finds you, and its misery. until TADA steve harrington swoops in to save you. also the borrower is a fellow girly.

borrower!reader x steve harrington

pov: you're a borrower who got herself stuck in a trash can

Stuck between plastic you tried to pry yourself out of the darkness. The stench of rotten foods you’d wished you’d gotten your hands on before made you gag. Sure, you could take the smell of a dead mouse stuck inside a trap but still cry at its death. Yet this food, it smelled foul and your hand sunk into it. It collapsed under your fingers as you gingerly pulled your hand back. You grabbed onto a piece of black plastic and pulled yourself up. 

I’m such an idiot. 

You continued to climb up the mountains of garbage bags while trying not to fall. It was slick or sticky depending where you touched it. You recalled yourself earlier in the day when no one was home, other than for that stupid cat. You’d climbed onto the tabletop and were getting quite a few crumbs of bread. A victory you awaited to celebrate in the coziness of your walls. Yet when that thing meowed at you, it scared the shit out of you. Foolishly you misstepped and fallen into the depths of rotten peels and papers. Your hook had gotten stuck on thick brown paper and wouldn’t let go, and then the worst of it happened. That damn door to the entrance boomed making you freeze up. Your grip grew tighter as footsteps boomed in your direction. A familiar high-pitched voice of the house was talking to the devil cat.

Then she muttered something about the trash being taken out. That's when you hid under the flesh of fruit and held your breath. Then find yourself trying to untangle yourself from this mess. It had taken far too long to break the garbage bag, but journeying to the top of the tin became hard labor. You were dirty, sweating, and really wanted a breath of fresh air. Things you were used to feeling, but this time you weren’t sure if you’d make it. These humans, you weren’t sure where they threw out so much food waste in the first place. Your hands trembled. Would you suffocate in this pile of trash, or worse? 

You climbed up the last black bag closest to the lid. Yet you were so far away, and when you jumped your flicker of hope vanished. 

“Shit,” you squeaked as your foot went over something slick. 

You fell on top of another bag in the darkness and looked up at the ceiling. The longer you looked at the dark metal caved lid your eyes welled up. This couldn’t be it, to die due to your own foolishness. You’d expected to die due to a fight with the whiskered beast, or crushed by the hand of a human. Not being dumped into the trash due to your own skittishness (or stupidity). 

“No,” you said to yourself. You got up and slid down the trash to hit the metal can. You started to bang it in frustration, like it would open. You shouted till your throat got sore, not remembering when you’d even shouted last. Hot tears slipped down your face, at least you wouldn’t go down quietly. Yet no one would know, the mad little borrower, screaming till they could no longer breathe. 

Your knuckles stung and your tears had stopped. Then a loud creaking noise followed by being shed in golden light made you gasp. Tearful again you turned to look up and your eyes went wide. The house you borrowed from, the boy that lived there, stared down at you in awe.

“Holy shit,” he said. 

You purse your lips together and lean into the wall. 

I think I’ll die actually. 

Your thoughts were not answered as a large hand loomed over you. You ran and tried to dig your way into the garbage. When you tried to dive in further into the trash he’d gotten your leg. Pulling you out painfully slowly and you sighed. This was worse than trash death, this was so much worse. You were held upside down and you were met with his dark brown eyes. His fingers pinched your ankle and you were terrified it would break. 

“What are you?” he asked. 

A warm cloud of air hit your face causing you to swing. You stayed silent, not daring to give this kid more reason to keep you around. You hoped. Again, your hopes were crushed as he dropped you into darkness. The small space had even you feeling cramped in as you kicked the doors of it. He shushed you but that only made you kick harder. The doors wouldn’t budge but when you heard two voices you stopped. 

Then it went quiet. Then it went still. Then something zipped and you hit the ground. 

“Ow,” you muttered.

The ground under you was colored red and felt like dust. You became distracted for a moment as you put it between your fingers. Tiny rocks slipped past your fingers, and your lips parted. You realized it was quite warm as well, and when you looked up you hissed. It was a bright light that packed a lot of heat it seemed. You’d never seen it before, or maybe you had. You looked away and blinked. Seeing the outline of the light in dark colors everywhere you looked. Then you saw the kid again, staring at you. 

You stood up and already scurried off under a piece of wood. Yet he knew you were there but you couldn’t help yourself. You’d rather die trying to survive than playing his game. 

“Aw, hey buddy. I’m not going to hurt you,” his voice was now above you. 

“Buddy,” you scoffed with a brow raised. 

This kid was trying to act like a nice guy? 

“Look, uh. I don’t know if you know English actually,” he said. You looked to the other exit of the wood tunnel and started to crawl through it. “But I’m not going to hurt you, okay?” he said. When you crawled out you saw him, staring right at you. He frowned but then his face lit up. 

“Maybe you’re hungry,” he seemed determined as he scurried out of the room. You looked back at the red dust to see it stopped at… glass. Your heart dropped and you got out of the wooden tunnel. You looked around to see your worst nightmare. You were trapped in a glass box, and the only way out was up. Your heart started to pound against your chest and your hand touched it. You wanted to cry again, and you weren’t sure if it was possible to. 

Then something fell right beside you, and you looked back up. The kids' fingers pulled away and you looked back down. There was a pile of food beside you and you licked your lips. The kid told you to go ahead and eat from the same source. He called it, KitCat? Whatever it was, it took you a moment but you dug right in. It tasted like heaven to you, it melted in your mouth and was sweet. A different kind of sweet from that one time you had the peel of an apple or any other food. 

You’d sat down beside it and ate away till you were full. When you were done, you could feel his eyes burning the back of your head. You sighed, now full, at least feeling a little better, but what now? 

“My name is Dustin,” he introduced himself. 

Your brows shot up and you looked up at him. 

“Dustin,” he pointed at himself. 

The giant child was trying to have a conversation with you. You sighed, defeated, and took in a deep breath. You stood up and told him your name. This sent him into being a crazed maniac. He was giggling, gasping, and practically shouting at you. You just stared back up at him in shock at how overjoyed he was to hear you say a couple of words. You decided to stay quiet afterward, already regretting those words. You’d hidden under the wooden log and curled yourself up into a ball. You didn’t even have your damn hook anymore, you felt naked, useless. Eventually, the kid gave up, told you goodnight, and turned the lights off. Except yours. Thankfully it was a quiet night as you tried to fight off heavy eyelids. Eventually darkness, once again, got the best of you. 

You felt weightless and then your face crashed into something. You blinked your eyes open and realized you were trapped in darkness. You rubbed your eyes and your body flung toward another wall in the darkness. You hissed in response and backed up to the other wall. You steadied yourself and then your heart sank. 

Last night flashed before your eyes and now you were here. Stuck inside the trap he’d put you in last night. Going who knows where, and you couldn't fight it. You couldn’t do anything so you kicked the opening again. Nothing happened, but you did it again. You kicked again and again until you got tired. 

Being thrown into a bag and tossed around was not ideal. All the while this kid, Dustin, said nothing to you. You sat, defeated in his trap, as loud muffled noises met your ears. It scared the hell out of you, to be in this position. Would he tell other humans about you? What was he going to do with you? It made your head hurt. 

Time passed, and finally, the bag opened. You were lying down and were immediately met with new faces. They all looked wide-eyed, mouths dropped and they were all children. 

“Oh what the…” you stood up while trying to sink back into the bag. 

“What is that?” the boy with thick black hair said. 

You raised a brow at that, that. They are referring to you as it? 

Dustin told them your name and you rubbed your temple. Your neck strained looking up at a total of five new faces. Oh, you hated this, this is bad. 

“What? Did you name it?” the boy with a bandana tied around his head asked. 

“It’s my own name,” you spoke up. 

All eyes snapped to you and you stayed seated. You looked over your shoulder and your eyes went wide. All you could see were patches of long thick green grass. 

“This is insane,” the redhead girl said. 

“Isn’t it so cool?” Dustin said giddily. 

You followed the conversation, kinda, but eventually, you lost track of the topics. Something about a creature named Dart, and how Dustin found you. You hopped over the ledge and your feet were met with a soft ground. The blades of grass met your height and the edge of your lips tugged upward. You reached a hand out to touch it but then you got scooped up into a warm hand. 

Damnit. 

You struggled against their grip but their fingers just tightened around you. The world spun until you were met by the kids' faces again. They started to blur in front of you and your breath started to get shallow. Once again you’d faded into darkness. 

—

It had been a couple of days of being handled and biting your tongue. You’d still been staying in Dustin’s glass box, which was called an “aqua-something” you couldn’t remember. You’d occasionally see his pet “turtle” slowly walking around on the floor. You sat on the log with your head in your hands. Trying to think of a way out of the cage, since Dustin put down the mesh top on it. You were close to escape two nights ago but had managed to mess up your leg. It wasn’t till you were awkwardly walking around in the morning he’d made the connection.

You perked up when you heard the door and slid under the log. You watched Dustin walk in on his lonesome. That was odd, usually the other kids joined him to just watch you (creepy). He flopped onto the bed and huffed. You rested your hands on the log and watched him look sad. It actually made your heart crack at the sight. Dustin hadn’t treated you horribly, but not amazingly either. Yet, you knew human children were complicated. You’d heard his mom complain about his teenage years when you were still in the walls.

Your brows furrowed and you huffed. Yep, now you remembered why you hated him. He took you away from your quiet, peaceful life which would have ended in a trashy death. When you zoned back into reality Dustin was no longer in bed. The hairs on your neck rose as a shadow loomed over you. Exhausted, you just let him pick you up into his warm palms. He held you in a loose fist and you stared up at him. 

“You’re still mad at me?” he asked. 

You didn’t say anything and he sighed. Clearly, you were still upset over him holding you so tightly you’d passed out. The first time he showed you to his friends, he’d left bruises for days all over your ribs. They were sore alongside your pride, now with the addition of a possibly broken leg. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeated for the millionth time. You looked away with little to no interest in his words. If you had any power over him, it was this. You didn’t give him what he wanted, and he’d leave you alone. Most of the time. This time he’d placed you in his backpack which had duck tape all over one side. You were surrounded by duck tape on the inside as well and pressed yourself up against it. He’d travel in silence the entire time and that freaked you out. The kid was always talking your ear off, even when you were pretending to not listen. Honestly, the things he said confused you but again, interested you. 

In the darkness, you finally heard Dustin whispering. Another voice whispered back and soon enough you were jostled in the bag. You landed on your bad leg and bit down a yelp. The sound of the zipper was followed by light. You dragged yourself to the corner of the pocket and were still shed by a shadow. 

“Dude, what are you talking about? There's nothing here,” a guy said. 

“She’s probably hiding, hold on,” Dustin said. 

Damn right, I am. 

You pressed your back against the wall and hugged your knee to your chest. You blinked in surprise as the surface below you tipped. You started to slide and you had nothing to grab onto. Your good leg met with a hard surface and the bag disappeared. Your eyes darted around you and you found out you were on an open table. Escape was possible. 

“What the–” you heard as Dustin cut off the voice. 

“Right?” Dustin introduced you to the voice.

You slowly turned around to be met with someone older for once. You take a step back and cringe at the pain shooting up your leg. The guy looked at you with wide brown eyes but they softened. His tense shoulders relaxed and his brows furrowed. He put his hands on the table and he looked at Dustin. 

“She’s scared, and looks like hell,” he said. Soon enough loud voices filled your ears as you started to step away to the edge of the table. You looked down at the drop which would surely end you. A shiver ran up your spine and you looked over your shoulder. 

…

Steve watched you and his chest cracked at the sight. You were pale and were shaking like a leaf. Not to mention the limp in your walk. You’d been handled by Dustin and his knucklehead friends. He ran a hand through his hair and put a hand on his hip. He’d dealt with weird shit before but you were something entirely new. He didn’t want to freak you out, considering Dustin had helped in that department already. 

“Okay okay,” Steve tapped the table, “Dustin, I’m taking her.” 

“What?” Dustin asked and your head snapped to Steve. 

Steve’s eyes went wide and he shook his head. “I mean, they’ll just stay with me. Dustin, clearly you’ve done enough.”

Dustin tried to fight his idea, claiming you’d been “found” by him. If anything you helped him, you vividly remember going insane in a trash can. That led him to opening it, so you really saved yourself, kinda.

“Dustin, just look at her,” Steve pointed at you. 

Dustin’s anger washed away but no words followed. 

“Steve!” Robin shouted from the other side of the doors. 

“Yeah, I heard you!” Steve shouted back. 

You jumped and he apologized immediately. Your tiny face finally looked up at him but he couldn’t detect your emotions. Once Dustin recapped Steve on what had happened up to this point, Robin burst in. 

“Jesus,” Steve jumped and turned around to face her. He moved himself to cover you from her vision as Robin started to complain to him. 

“C’mon doofus, it's my break time,” Robin exclaimed and continued to complain. 

Your heart raced as you let Steve’s silhouette cover you from her eyes. Dustin kept looking at you but you could never meet his eyes. You sidestepped closer to Steve and the edge of the table. Your head was spinning, and you were losing sight of your escape plan “the plummet of doom” you’d called it 5 minutes ago. 

“Oh my god, what is that?” you heard and you looked upward.

Robin, Steve, and Dustin loomed over you. Your heart plummeted to your stomach and you slid off the table. You hugged a leg of the table and made your way down. Shouts followed and then your fingers gave out. Hair whipped your face as you shut your eyes tight. Instead of being met with a hard floor you were met with something soft. You opened your eyes to see Steve staring down at you, inches away. Your face flushed at the closeness while he looked startled. His fingers cave in around you to hold you still and you don’t move.

“Jesus, who jumps off a ledge like that?” was the first thing he blurted.

#g/t #stranger things g/t #g/t stranger things #g/t writing #g/t thoughts #giant/tiny #borrower!reader #borrower!reader x steve harrington #g/t community #g/t fic #g/t fiction #giant tiny #I WILL WRITE PART 2 SOON #this was rough to start #but bare with me #it'll be good #gotta just do some build up first #thank you for reading :)

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - October 15th

 Hi, all! I hope you had a spectacular week. Here’s everything I read this week--enjoy and be sure to leave comments and kudos for your writers! 

~*~ 

love and war by meidui

“Who the hell are you?” Tony demands as Steve stands up and instinctively gets between them, taking him in: Tony’s armour, but in his colours. His shield, but with Tony’s arc reactor in place of his star.

“I’m from Earth-TRN634,” he says. “I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to stop your Civil War.”

Shakedown by Sineala

The problem is, Captain America won't stop shivering.

Need A Hand? by KandiSheek

An unfortunate hand injury means that Steve can't jerk off for the foreseeable future. Tony is all too happy to lend a hand.

your kind of heaven's (been to hell and back) by complicationstoo 

Contrary to popular belief, Tony hasn’t done this before. He knows his own reputation, has enough self-awareness to recognize that not one single person would be surprised to find out he was doing this tonight, but all of them would be surprised to hear it was the first time. When you build a persona around being the charming playboy, paying for sex doesn’t seem too far off.

It’s definitely not the other guy’s first time being paid for it, though. There’s an easy energy about him as he casually looks around the penthouse between sips of the scotch in his hand. Tony wonders if he’s even drinking it at all, though, because the line of liquid never seems to go down no matter how many times he brings the glass to his lips. Either way he’s good at faking the nonchalance.

believe me by complicationstoo 

“So this is definitely one of the strangest situations I’ve ever been in,” Tony says, plopping down on the hard tile floor.

“One of?” Steve asks with raised eyebrows. “It’s troubling that you can’t lie to me right now, and yet you still aren’t saying it’s the worst.”

“Because it isn’t the worst,” Tony says simply, the honesty spilling out of him so easily even though he hates the way it feels on his tongue. “I wouldn’t even call it one of the worst. Doesn’t even crack the top five on that one, and please, don’t ask, because that’s a list I don’t want to say and you don’t want to hear. But strangest? It’s up there for sure.”

made your mark on me by complicationstoo 

It’s a Thursday, the first time that Tony walks into Steve’s tattoo parlor. Steve is behind the counter, passing the time between appointments by filling his sketchbook with new designs and reworks of older ones. He glances up at the chime on the door and has a welcome greeting on the tip of his tongue that dies at the sight of him.

He’s young, and if Steve had to guess he’s probably never been in a tattoo parlor before today, if the nervous look is anything to go by. His hair is dark and messy, falling in every direction as he takes a knitted hat off of his head and stuffs it in his pocket, while wide brown eyes look around at the designs on the walls.

How to Give the Best Blowjob He's Ever Had by BlossomsintheMist

Steve wants to give Tony as good a blowjob as Tony always gives him. Tony gives him some pointers.

in retrospect by welcoming_disaster 

Fresh out of the ice, Eve Rogers isn't happy about being stuck onto the Ultimates' roster; the team, in her view, is a shameless PR grab with no real talent. Her teammate, Tonya Stark, might change that.

The Fall and the Rise by Sineala

After the Great Society incursion, the Illuminati refuse to destroy another world. When the next incursion looms, they go to await their deaths in peace. Tony ends up on the doorstep of the last man who ever wanted to see him. At least he's going to die at Steve's side.

The Spark That Started the Fire by Sineala 

It started with two men. But it ended with two men, too.

(Or: A quiet evening on Battleworld, in which there are desert islands, campfires, apologies, and proposals. Also nudity.)

Bustin' a Cap by LonghornLetters

Steve and Tony have been together for a minute. Bucky and Rhodey have...concerns.

Body of Work by LonghornLetters 

NFL quarterback Steve Rogers has been invited to appear in ESPN's Body Issue. It's true, you know, every body has a story!

Those Secrets We Hold Dear by KandiSheek

Tony has been on suppressants for as long as he can remember. So when his body goes into an unexpected heat, he's more than a little unprepared. Especially because the person responsible for his body going haywire is halfway across the world and not on speaking terms with him.

It doesn't help that most of the world assumes that Tony is an alpha.

There is No Place Like Home for the Holidays by Lenalena

Steve is the first to come home to the tower after S.H.I.E.L.D. goes down. Then Natasha and Clint arrive. Tony doesn't mind, really, he's got the space. Except it's December and they insist on doing Christmassy shit. Who the hell has time for that?!?

Christmas 5 - Tony 0

be my best friend (until we grow old) by complicationstoo 

Everything about Steve Rogers is unexpected. How he enters Tony’s life like a cannonball. How he lingers there like he belongs.

It isn’t much of a surprise, though, to fall in love with him.

A companion fic to this is how you fall in love.

in restless silence and waking dreams by Areiton 

Tony trails his fingers over the ice, shivering at the cold that leeches into his hand, and stares at the man his father loved more than him, the man he’s loved and hated his entire life, the man who died to save the world and end the war. 

He sighs and says, softly. “You poor bastard.” 

one true thing by welcoming_disaster

Captain America, Tony has long learned, lives by a set of internal rules so convoluted and esoteric that he himself sometimes gets lost in them.

in my head by brucewaynery

Tony tells Steve about solipsism, the theory that everything is merely a figment of your own imagination, and Steve lets something slip.

for 'college roommates' on iron man bingo

now I worship a celestial sun by haemodye

The thing that gets Tony the most is how long it takes him to notice.

Not Steve, or even the other Avengers, but Tony himself. It takes Tony almost two whole weeks to figure out that he’s unable to disobey a direct order from Steve, which just- what the hell is that? What happened to the days when he flew off the handle, unable to play well with others, a notorious wild card?

“God, don’t tell me I’m getting old and predictable,” he says, rubbing a hand over his forehead. And then, “Fuck.”

  A mostly-comedic farce involving: 1 obedience spell, 2 pining Avengers, 1 long-suffering Sorcerer Supreme, and 1 single, extravagant Saint Patrick's Day float.

#stevetony weekly #steve rogers #tony stark #stevetony #stony #iron man #captain america #stevetony fic #stony fic #fic rec

[voxofthevoid]

Surprise Rut Wednesday #7. And the last one! I finished this on Monday—whole thing is 10 chapters and 51.5k. So I did end up writing another novel, but at least it's a small one lmao.

I probably won't pick up the chikan dickfest fic after this because that's porn overload even for me. Not that what I'm considering instead is less porny, but it's porn of the "Yuuji goes through the horrors" variety with sukuita and goyuu, so there's more enrichment in my enclosure.

For now, have more of Nanami getting bullied with dick and other body parts—plus Gojou being Gojou:

He comes to with a knot plugging him up and a tongue lapping him clean.

Each touch of Itadori’s tongue makes his raw scent gland spark with oversensitivity, like it’s fire licking him there. Kento pats clumsily at Itadori’s back and pushes at his shoulders, trying to convey something he doesn’t have the words or strength for, and Itadori just purrs, sucking on the bloody gland like that’ll fix everything.

Kento shudders inside and out, and that’s a mistake as always, his impossibly strained walls reminding him of just how big the knot inside him is.

“Itadori,” Kento rasps, “please…”

His voice seems to do something. Itadori stops licking at the new wound—it’ll also scar, worse than the first; Kento can tell—to nuzzle at Kento’s jaw, and it’s sweet given his state, those closed lips and fluttering lashes, and when Itadori straightens up, thankfully careful not to tug at where they’re joined, his expression is lit from within by a bright, fiery fondness that makes Kento’s chest hurt.

It’s not an expression all that different from what he’s seen the boy wear while lucid. It’s even been directed at him a few times, and it says a lot that Kento found it more puzzling then than he does now.

“Cute,” Gojou comments, once again reminding Kento of his unfortunate existence.

“Die,” Kento says dully.

Gojou lets out a bark of laughter, the surprise apparently sincere. “Mean. You really don’t share well, Nanami. I’m surprised.”

“I don’t—” Kento snaps before he can help himself, before biting his tongue for the sake of his own sanity. “This has nothing to do with sharing, and you know it.”

Gojou waves a hand in a dismissive gesture, eyes flitting from Kento to Itadori, who seems content to hover over Kento and watch them both, expression warm with satisfaction in a way Kento doesn’t want to examine too closely.

When Kento looks at Gojou again, he finds him too damn close.

Gojou leans in, and Kento has the horrified thought that he’ll kiss him—

“What—”

—and then Gojou once again proves that he lives to defy expectations in the worst of ways.

His tongue drags hot and filthy over Kento’s bleeding scent gland, skewering him with a blend of pain, revulsion, and helpless pleasure. Kento drives an elbow into whatever part of Gojou’s nearest to it, and it only meets Infinity, but Gojou backs off anyway, licking his lips lewdly.

“I like it!” he declares. “You know, Nanami, you’ve always smelled so damn sour, like that disgusting whiskey you like so much, but mixed in with Yuuji like this, it’s not so bad. Wanna taste?”

Gojou swoops down before Kento can answer, and he turns his head away, but a hand cups his jaw, deceptively gentle, and tugs him right back into Gojou’s damned, damning mouth. His tongue swipes messily over Kento’s pursed lips, digging in between to prod at his teeth. He smells like blood and sex—like Itadori and Kento, distilled into heat.

“So difficult,” Gojou says, fingers digging into Kento’s jaw hard enough to make him hiss through clenched teeth.

Itadori growls, patently angry.

Kento doesn’t like the way Gojou’s expression settles into something sharp and knowing, but whatever warning he can give would be lost on Itadori, stuck like this as surely as Kento, and he can only watch furiously as Gojou sways forward and presses his bloody mouth to Itadori’s.

Itadori clearly doesn’t mind though.

Gojou breaks the kiss with a wet, sucking noise, Itadori’s lower lip caught between his teeth until the last moment. Itadori’s hands grow bruising on Kento’s hips, and he’s looking at Gojou like he wants to eat him alive.

Gojou radiates satisfaction, practically preening.

Then he turns those inhumanly sharp eyes on Kento again, making intent eye contact as he swipes two fingers through his own unscarred scent gland. They glisten wetly, an obvious taunt.

“Gojou-san,” Kento says warningly.

“Only fair,” Gojou murmurs, “that you taste this too.”

“Absolutely not—”

Speaking is a mistake, the fingers shoved right in, and Kento chokes on the taste of an omega’s slick and an alpha’s venom, the potency of the blend made a hundred times worse by the fact that he knows these two and wants at least one. Gojou’s fingertips dig into his throat, and Kento convulses around Itadori’s knot, his legs snapping shut around the boy’s hips in a desperate attempt at—control, relief, something.

Gojou’s fingers leave his mouth; no, they’re yanked out, Itadori descending on him like an animal, and Kento groans into that violent kiss, eyes fluttering shut as Itadori licks his and Gojou’s mingled taste out of Kento’s mouth.

“Hey,” Gojou says, audibly annoyed. “Don’t you ignore me, Yuuji.”

Itadori’s mouth is also ripped away, leaving Kento panting around a numb, pulsing mouth as he watches Gojou kiss the boy like he’s going to eat him, mouth wide open and tongue slithering wet. Itadori’s no less violent, no less hungry, and his scent lashes the air like a clarion call.

“Gojou-sensei,” he gasps, and the actual name coming out of his mouth, whole and coherent, makes Kento freeze all over again. Then— “Nanamin.”

Gojou laughs delightedly and kisses him again, except he does more this time, pressing his body to Itadori’s side in a one-sided embrace, and reaching down with one obscenely long arm to grab hold of Kento’s half-hard cock, and his complaining yelp falls on uncaring ears, Gojou working his fist around the head with a roughness that bites as badly as the pleasure.

Kento quickly loses the breath to complain, only wordless noises spilling from his throat as his body milks Itadori’s knot with every cruel clench of Gojou’s fist.

Itadori reacts, of course he does, somehow keeping his mouth on Gojou’s while his hands lift Kento’s hips higher into the air, and it pulls on the knot, which feels like it’s tearing him open into a better home, Kento’s walls screaming around the sheer, damning pressure.

And then Itadori starts fucking him, that maddeningly thick knot tugging dangerously against his rim before shoving impossibly deeper to rip through him.

Kento cries out, arching his back uselessly. Itadori just fucks him harder, and Gojou’s hand is equally relentless.

It’s a new hell, and Kento keens and sobs and shouts through it, absent thoughts of being quiet, being polite and good and sane, flitting through his mind only to be drowned in a fresh wave of fire, and the men fucking him force him through every moment of it, greedy and merciless and a thousand terrible things in between, and the crest of his climax isn’t relief or even pleasure, just another endless pulse of sensation in a long line of them.

It leaves him limp, only able to jerk and whine weakly when Itadori yanks his barely deflated knot out.

#nanaita #goyuu #nanagoyuu #jjk snippets #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #wip wednesday #my fic #fic: flesh is the only virtue

[ofmermaidstories]

Hi Mermie! I don't think I have ever sent an ask but I guess now is a good time as any. I actually found out about you from Andie (actually now that I think about it... I found a lot of wonderful writers through her) and lemme tell you BOY AM I GLAD I DID.

Your writing is like a box of chocolates :> whenever I see something new from you I don't know whether it's gonna be the sweetest thing I have ever read or if it's going to have me clutching my heart sobbing on the floor at 2 in the morning lol (casually side eyes the drabble you wrote about reader who can see the way ppl die- no joke I actually sat there on my couch for 10 minutes trying not to bawl my eyes out) Well but as if all that isn't just testament to what an amazing writer you are! I also LOVE LOVE LOVE your art! If I could eat it I think it would taste like strawberry wafers and marshmallow fluff. Oh shoot wait I was here for the game?! AHHH WAIT I AM SO SORRY FOR GETTING SIDETRACKED!

Ok wait lets see-

48. Who is your favorite character you have written for? Has this changed once you have started writing for the fandom?

I have a feeling it's bakugo but the way you write deku is so SCRUMPTIOUS.

49. What fic do you think is the best introduction of you as an author?

I am just really curious of how you answer this lol

69. What are your fave fics at the moment?

I just really wanted some good recs and I trust your taste!

72. What's your favorite writing compliment you have gotten?

Let's face it an amazing writer you must have gotten (well atleast you deserve) all the compliments in the world! I wanna know which one stuck with you. Also I am just petty I wanna one up that compliment and woo you~~~ <3

I am sorry oof I didn't think this ask would get this long. Regardless there is just one more thing... How... well is there a way you can send emoji's on laptop?? I really wanna send you that tulip bouquet emoji :(

Oh well I can't find it :< *sends you the most beautiful bouquet telepathically~*

lmaoooo, andie is very much incredibly generous, in that regard—uplifting other people. 🥹🌷 but hi castle! hi!! you’re very much like andie, i’m afraid—too sweet and entirely too generous with your kind words. 🫣 i am undeserving of the attention, but thank-you. 🥺 it means a lot, especially since i’ve seen you flitting about and spreading the excitement and the sunshine. ☀️ but okay let’s play. 😌

48. Who is your favorite character you have written for? Has this changed once you have started writing for the fandom?

lmao. bakugou is the love of my life, yes, but if i had to pick a favourite canon character to have written for, it’s izuku!! i think being the main character of My Hero gives him more to play with—which in turn makes him so much more satisfying. 🥹

if i had to pick a favourite character in general, though, to have written for—it’d be scribbles!

49. What fic do you think is the best introduction of you as an author?

oh, easy peasy. it’s surrender (whenever you’re ready).

i think it’s a fair representation of my style, and also does the hand-holding of gradually working up to those massive chapter lengths i tried to get away with in SJLT lmao. but more importantly, more than the one-shots i have sitting there on my ao3, it’s the introduction to what i guess is my biggest selling point: the serialisation and interconnectivity.

69. What are your fave fics at the moment?

i haven’t been reading much in the last year (mostly bc i’ve either preferred to stare at my wall and disassociate or crash hard into bed for five hour naps lmao) but the last fic i read that like, i consumed, was:

a blur of conquerors by her_black_tights

When Eren was ten, thirteen years felt like a long time. Most people he’d known died young, so he’d never expected to reach old age. But he’s in his ninth year of his term now. So is Mikasa. And he used to think he’d have something like forever to finally make sense of the way she’s weaved her way between his ribs, to learn the name of this particular brand of madness. But when he sees her skin knitting back together now, all he can think about is the day that it won’t.

Attack On Titan, Eremika, Marleyan Warriors AU, Explicit. it’s smut heavy; most of HBT’s fics are. HBT also writes a lot of daddy kink, and while it’s not apart of this fic, there is a dom/sub sensibility to their writing that does seem to influence HBT’s characterisation of Eren and Mikasa. i really enjoy their writing—when i found their fics i spent the whole day with them, completely useless for anything else. 🥹 but read your tags and remember to look after yourselves etc etc.

72. What's your favorite writing compliment you have gotten?

lmaooo, you’re cute castle. 🥹🌷 this one is hard tho because i think people underestimate the power even a handful of kind words have tbh. 🥺 all comments make me feel some kind of way (it’s not an excuse but it is why i get so bad at replying bc my brain basically keysmashes itself into knots at any hint of kindness), but i guess the most recent that have stuck out to me are a couple from the last chapter of the deku fic—from a couple of peeps who mentioned being surprised about seeing their own country or people in it. it meant a lot to me that it meant something to someone else, too. none of us live in isolation; we exist in a big world. and idk. it was just nice to be reminded of that. 🥺

don’t ever apologise for the excitement!!! it was fun. 🥺 thank-you for giving me something to mull over. 🥹 tbh with the emojis tho i just copy and paste from like emojiwiki or something lmaoooooo. but also, here, i drew u one instead—

#surveys and games oh my #castle i hope you are having nothing but an incredible week 🥹 happy new year 🌷

[ellvsun]

Haunting Adeline Review

Where do I even begin? I feel like I’m going to be crucified for posting this review as it seems like a lot of people are big fans of this book. Please remember that this is my opinion only and i wish to not be executed for this.

To start off with, nothing was relatable. Adeline’s weird mum was relatable, I can definitely say i’m in the same shoes BUT it just goes downhill from there. I can’t lie and say her manor isn’t cool as fuck, I want a house like that. She’s living my gothic dream. Nothing really stood out to me in the first chapter.

I’m going to be honest, this review was written a while ago so my memory about where the plot goes is hazy but her discovering her great grandmothers diary hidden somewhere in the attic? Or in the walls like and seeing ghosts? Why do the ghosts never appear again, honestly I wanted to see more of them. I love ghosts.

THEN the stalker appears. Oohhhh so mysterious, so scary so- oh no he was JUST revealed!!! I felt like I hardly had any time to really feel any unease because Zade was revealed so early on. Leaving roses and whiskey glasses on the countertops or places she wouldn’t have expected them, I liked that. A sense of danger but it was all revealed just way too soon and it kind of ruined it for me. I just really wish this was stretched on for longer because I was highly disappointed over this.

And then she becomes hell bent on trying to solve her great grandmother’s affair like girl jUST LEAVE IT ALONE IT DOESN’T MATTER. I could be the insensitive one here but it felt like such a REACH trying to tie her great grandmother’s story to her. She had an affair with a stalker and now Adeline fancies her like history repeats itself but not like this!!! Definitely not Iike this. H. D. Carlton really didn’t give Adeline a fighting chance to begin with.

It also just felt like everything between Adeline and Zade was moving way too fast. One moment, he’s this mysterious stalker who leaves things around, next he’s just being weird and gross and it’s so FRUSTRATING that Adeline just accepts it and her fight against Zade is pretty pathetic. I never rooted for Adeline especially how she didn’t have more inner turmoils when Zade did the things he did to her. Like the gun and always forcing sex on her? It wasn’t consensual but don’t forget my guys she just is into it man I don’t know.

What was also frustrating was her weird sense of “bravery”. I don’t think that Adeline has any common sense at all. I it were a horror movie, she’d be most likely to die first. It always stuck with me how she would just use to danger and then immediately goes “hey god, why did you make me like this?” Like hello?? Miss ma’am? It genuinely was just so hard to read instead of thinking she was funny and cool.

I get with Zane being in his business, Adeline would’ve gotten mixed up in it too but like so soon? I feel like there was a lot during the first book where I just felt so confused about everything. The plot felt like it was moving way too quickly and there was barely anything enjoyable to read and the sex scenes? I get it, it’s a dark book about morally corrupt things and maybe a lot of things we’ve p r o b a b l y thought of but have never ventured into it but like… the book felt like more weird sex scenes over anything actually interesting.

Finding out Zade was taking down pedo rings was pretty cool. Having to become friends and pretend he is also into minors was something that could’ve gone without but I think it was necessary if he needed to retrieve the information he needed. Mark was a sick son of a bitch. I guess all of them are. And then Mark finds an interest in Adeline and just ugh. Human trafficking is honestly so scary to think about especially when it’s real but man, some sick and twisted shit honestly. Sorry, I’m getting off track but Mark sucks and I’m glad he died.

Skipping through everything that didn’t really stand out to me, the last couple of chapters I really enjoyed. I liked that we got more of an in depth look into what Zade does and his mission on infiltrating the Society (spoilers it was a set up)

It also just felt like Zade had too much luck on his side but I guess that’s something you can manipulate in a book. I’m glad that shit went out of his control, if I’m being completely honest here.

Overall, my rating of this book is probably a solid 3.5/10 and I think I’m being generous. The book felt cringe worthy at the best of times, Zade was revealed too early, plot moved too quickly and Adeline’s weird bravery which I didn’t like was off putting. Can I even call it bravery? Anyways I probably would recommend this book to others but I’m on the second book now (promise a review will come through) but yeah, Haunting Adeline was a weird book to read, I probably wouldn’t pick it up again.

#haunting adeline #book review #books and reading #spicy books #bookblr #h. d. carlton

[medusapelagia]

25 Au-gust: Joker (Western)

Rating: Mature Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson WT: mention of violence, mention of raping, use of the world Indians to define Native Americans WC: 2665

Eddie sighs, he knew that, as a first job, they would have sent him to some shit place, but god, Hawkins didn’t even seem like a town!

There was a big saloon, a prison, an emporium, and a few houses.

“They are building the railway.” The coach’s man tells him, while helping him with his bag “Stay away from trouble and you’ll be ok.”

Eddie snorts, that’s the very same thing that Wayne told him when he accepted the job.

“Thanks for the advice, man.” he replies, getting his things and walking into what seems like a hotel but it could also be a brothel.

“What do you want?” An angry woman asks him “I need a place to stay, I’m the new teacher.”

The woman laughs loudly “That’s what they sent us? A teacher? We need a fucking sheriff!”

Eddie shrugs “I’m sorry, I don’t know anything about sheriffs, I’m here to teach your sons how to read and write.”

“And you really think we need that? Our sons need to learn how to plow the land or how to take the herd to pasture. The majority of them are working in the mines! We don’t give a fuck about reading!”

Eddie keeps smiling, it’s not the first time that he has had this kind of conversation. These are people who came here, in the middle of nowhere, hoping to find some fortune and find themselves stuck between rocks and Indians.

“Fine. However, I still need a place to sleep. Is this a hotel?” he asks.

The woman studies him for a long time and then he nods.

“Seven dollars a week and you have to pay in advance.”

Shit. He hasn't even started the job and he is already going to spend most of it.

“Is lunch included?”

“Breakfast. And any advanced food from lunch.”

Fuck.

Ok. Ok. It’s not a big problem, as soon as he starts to teach his students will bring him something from their houses. Or at least that’s what Wayne taught him to do when he was young and he really hopes that his new students will do the same because, if not he will die of hunger in this fucking shit hole.

He nods and the woman shows him a little room with a bed, a table, and nothing more.

He sighs, he already misses his home, but he loves to teach and in his hometown,there was no place for him. Maybe his next job will be in a better town.

“Can you show me the school?”

The woman turns toward him and starts to laugh.

***

The school is actually an abandoned barn that still smells like horseshit.

“Are you the new teacher?” a handsome man asks while Eddie is trying to understand if somewhere there are some desks and chairs or if his students will have to sit on the ground.

“No, I’m the new sheriff!” he replies sarcastically.

“For real? I thought… oh… you are joking.” 

Eddie turns toward him, the man seems so sad that all he can do is offer his hand to him “Eddie Munson, teacher, and musician.”

“Steve Harrington, farmer and nothing else.”

“Please tell me, Mr. Harrington, what were you doing in my school?”

“Actually… I wanted to see if it was true that the new teacher has arrived.” he says smiling so sweetly that Eddie feels something warm filling him inside.

“And why is that?”

“My kid, Dust. He is really clever and he deserves an education. You know, I never got one.” he lowers his eyes, playing with the dirt with his boots “My father always said that I was too stupid and he was right. But Dustin is so fucking brilliant! He could do so many great things if given the opportunity! But we only got a teacher for less than a year.” he sighs “Not so many kids here, you know? It is a hard place to live in. But me and Dust, well, we like it here. It’s hard but peaceful. And at sunset, when we sit on the porch smoking, well, I smoke, Dustin just plays pretend but… It’s nice.”

Eddie nods “Seems like that. So I’m going to see your son tomorrow for my first lesson.”

Steve nods, and then he points toward the church “I think you should ask Father Jim if he would let you use the church for your lesson. Much better than this place.”

***

“No, no, no. I will not let the kids play in the house of god!” Father Jim replies, looking deeply offended.

“But the kids need some guidance, spiritual and material! We could join our forces and help them!”

The man shakes his head “You are a nice boy, Eddie, but you know nothing about the people that live here. They don’t care about the tuition of their children, they go to church only because they are scared that if they will not something bad will happen to them. I thought you heard what happened to the Harringtons.”

“Harringtons?” Like Steve Harrington, the cute boy he saw a few hours before?

The priest nods.

“Richard Harrington and his wife, Catherine, were killed in their house. Their son, Steve, escaped death miraculously and came back a few years ago with a child.”

“What happened?"

Father Jim sighs "Nobody knows exactly what happened. Rumors said that Neil Hargrove fell in love with Catherine and tried to kidnap her. Maybe her husband fought back, or maybe Hargrove was looking for blood. In any case, they were both murdered and no one took their farm until their son came back. They live on that farm." the man says, pointing to a big farm far from the town "It used to be the biggest farm we had, but now they have just a couple of cows and some horses."

***

On Monday Eddie starts his first lesson in the barn, and no one is attending.

He has seen some of the boys go to the mine with their fathers and he has tried to convince them to let them go to school, but the fathers refused.

He is sitting, drawing some stupid doddles with a stick, when a curly boy enters the barn.

"I'm sorry for being late! My father needed help with the cows. Well, he said that he did not but he did, so I stayed, and then he had to ride with me to get me here, but everyone hates us so we had to take the long way and... Are you alone?"

Eddie looks at the boy who suddenly stops to talk "Are you Dustin?"

He nods.

"I met your father yesterday."

The boy smiles "I know! I was so excited when I heard that a new teacher was coming, but Steve is really protective of me, so he wanted to make sure that I was in good hands. And I thought he was expecting a lady teacher because he wore his best hat, to hide the scar you know? And then he said that I could come and... oh! He told me to give you this!"

This, Eddie finds out, is an apple a little crushed on the side but that smells delicious.

"You know what? I have a room with a desk and a chair! Why don't we have our lesson there?"

"In your room?"

"It's not the best place in the world but still much better than a barn!"

While he walks toward the hotel with Dustin, he notices how everyone is avoiding them, some of them even cross themselves.

"I can go back home if you don't want to be seen with me."

"Why shouldn't I want that?"

"You know. People talk. And they do not like us. Steve says that they are jealous and envious of my talent, but he loves me too much."

"He told me you are really clever."

"That's because to him anyone who can add two and two is a genius!" he laughs.

Eddie doesn't know what it means exactly, but when he does some little test he easily finds out that Dustin is really clever indeed.

"And you studied with a teacher only for one year, is that correct?"

He nods.

"Miss Nancy was very nice. She gave me many books to read. I read them all but my favorite where about monsters, and knights."

Eddie smiles, he has a couple of those books "Why don't you take this one, and then you tell me what you liked the most?"

The big smile that Dustin gives him it's enough to win him over and he finds himself eager to teach him everything he knows.

***

In a couple of months, he has convinced some of the miners to send their sons to school at least once a week, and Father Jim has finally agreed to give him some space for his lessons while the barn is completely forgotten but Eddie is satisfied, he has a place to teach and he has his students. Especially Dustin, who sits always in the back but is the most brilliant of the class, and when he doesn't see the curly boy for three days in a row he asks for a horse and goes to his farm.

The farm is big and it has a lot of potential, it's obvious that it needs more than one person to deal with the animals, but he can see what a marvelous farm it used to be and how it could return to be.

What he is not expecting is seeing a riffle pointed at him as he gets closer to the farm.

"We don't want any trouble. Go away."

The voice is the same he heard months ago, but the tone is sterner.

"Steve. It's me. Eddie. The new teacher!" he says, removing his hat and letting his dark curls fall on his shoulder.

The man lowers the riffle and looks at him astonished "What are you doing here?"

"Dustin wasn't in class in the last few days and I wanted to know why."

"He is not feeling well." Steve explains to him "But he will come back to school as soon as he gets better.

"Do I have to call the doctor or..."

"No! We are fine! I'm taking care of him! Now you can go back where you came from and thanks for the visit." He replies, not moving from the porch, but Eddie is not going to have any of that.

"I'm not going to leave until I see the boy! You are hiding something and I'll find out what it is!" he replies getting closer.

"Listen, I don't have time...”

"Steve! Steve! They are coming! They are coming!" Dustin screams from inside the farm and Steve turns and runs inside the house, followed by Eddie.

"Hey. Hey. I'm here. No one is coming. Ok? I'm here. You are fine."

The boy is clearly feverish.

"He needs a doctor!" Eddie insists, but Steve shakes his head and takes a strange concoction that is boiling on the fire.

"Can you drink this for me, kid? Just a few sips."

The boy takes a sip, and then he makes a disgusted face.

"I know, I know, it's bitter, but you will feel so much better later, you know that right?" he comforts him, keeping the cup close to his mouth.

The kid nods and takes another couple of sips before falling asleep.

"He needs a doctor Steve." Eddie repeats "If his fever doesn't break soon..."

"It will."

"How do you know that?"

Steve sighs, and then leans on the back of the chair "Do you know why everyone hates us? Dustin and I?"

Eddie shakes his head and Steve continues

"When Neil Hargrove came to our town he killed my parents and left me for dead no one came from the town. No one helped us. They stayed closed in their stupid houses while we were slaughtered.” He closes his eyes for a moment “My father was not the nicest man in the world, but he fought for my mother. Hargrove killed him with a bullet in his head. Then he raped my mother and when he was satisfied, he gave her to his men. But me? He wanted me. More than anything. He raped me and beat me so hard that he broke my skull and thought that I was dead, or dying.

That night the Indians came too." he sighs "Abey told me that she had a dream of a baby deer in peril and when her husband found me she knew I was her baby deer. They nursed me back to health and taught me all I know, but when the railway workers got too close they had to move, and I couldn't go with them because I had a kid who was too white to be an Indian. That's why they hate me. Why they hate us. They consider me a half-Indian, and they know that Dustin is half-Indian too. They would send me away if they could, but the land it's mine and I know things..." he laughs, a dry laugh "You know what the funny thing is? That there is no doctor in this town. If anyone needs medical attention, they come to me. They need me, but they still hate me because I treat them with herbs and the Indians' method." he passes a hand into his hair and Eddie sees the horrible scar on the side of his head. He sighs "That's why I know that Dustin's fever will break." He concludes, getting up and going to the kitchen.

Eddie follows him, like a moth to a flame.

“I will understand if you do not want to teach Dustin, now that you know.” He clears his voice “I’ll tell him that I need him on the farm and he can’t go back to school. He will be made for a while, but it will be ok.”

“Why should you do that? Dustin is a brilliant student, I love to teach him and I don’t care if he is half-Indian or what. He is a good guy. Caring and loving and I’m lucky to have him in my class.”

"He is." Steve agrees, stirring some soup “Would you stay for dinner?”

Eddie nods, getting closer to help him with the plates, and he notices that all the spices have no name but little symbols.

“I could teach you, you know?”

“Uh?”

“To read. And to write. If you want to?”

Steve chuckles “I’m too stupid. Dustin tried to teach me once but it didn’t end well.”

“Because Dustin is very intelligent but he is no teacher. He is a resourceful and clever boy, but he gets too restless. He probably wanted you to learn everything in a day and then got frustrated. But I can teach you. And don’t tell me again that you are stupid because you just told me that you learned how to treat illness with herbs.”

“I… I would like to learn how to write my name. To sign papers you know.” He admits, lowering his eyes.

Eddie doesn’t waste a second, he takes a scrap of paper and charcoal and writes down in big letters STEVE, and then turns the paper toward the other boy “Try to copy that.”

They eat the soup in silence, while Steve keeps writing his name on the piece of paper and the letters become less shaky and more firm. They stop a couple of times when Steve gives Dustin his medicine, and when Dustin’s fever finally breaks, Steve is almost able to write his name.

Outside the sun is rising, and Eddie gets back to his horse “Tell Dustin that I’ll wait for him in class.” He says, and then he whispers to Steve’s ear “And I’m always willing to give you some private lessons, big boy.”

He does not turn to see Steve’s expression but he can almost feel the stern half-Indian boy blush.

#tumblr fic #myfanfic #steddie #au gust 2023 #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things fanfic #writing challenge #western #medusapelagia fanfic #medusapelagia #my fanfic

[achilleslyre]

Ask meme huh??? Okay.

- Sai

- Kisame

- Kiba

this ask game

i will do kisame on a different ask i got of just him so this one is a bit shorter :3

sai

favourite thing about them?

HE’S GENUINELY SO FUNNYYYYYY he always has me cracking uppp and i love his (lack of) facial expressions….. sai your autistic swagger has me in your clutches

least favourite thing about them?

this is actually pretty hard…? like i even forgive him for talking shit on sasuke cause it’s funny that he wanted to bully naruto a bit ✋😂 i guess i wish he had more importance throughout the war arc and not for just that 🤏🤏 little bit in the beginning

favourite line?

i think this interaction ✋😂

brOTP?

sai and yamato 😭😭 two former root ninja.. imagine the bond they would have had if naruto were good….

OTP?

mm i don’t actually ship sai with anyone !

nOTP?

i guess naruto/sai ? just cause i’m like… naruto is far too obsessed with sasuke he could not give any other man an ounce of his attention…

random headcanon?

he probably does like some kinda deep dive into finding out as much as he can about people he’s interested in… which likely creeps out others but he’s doing it out of a sweet place in his heart.. he wants to know about them to show he cares and is interested in them.

unpopular opinion?

i don’t really know what opinions on sai are popular/unpopular… i think he deserves more recognition in general from like the fandom.. i think he’s genuinely one of the best characters between how funny he is, how cool his ninjutsu is and his personality and backstory…. he’s a very good character and i feel he’s rather glossed over

song i associate with them?

love stuck by mother mother

favourite picture of them?

i like to use this as a reaction image tbh.. i love sending it to people..

(VERY close second is this one tho)

kiba

favourite thing about them?

i like his design !! specially in classic i like his hoodie a lot but i do also like the leather jacket in shippuden. also his facial markings just look cool

least favourite thing about them?

hmm i think his one sided rivalry with naruto is kinda annoying.. that he wants to beat naruto so bad for.. whatever reason… i just think he needs to move onto something else that *he* wants.. not what naruto wants

favourite line?

i don’t remember exactly how it goes but when he’s fighting ukon and he stabs himself and says smth like “die with me” or smth like that

brOTP?

i loooove team 8 sm.. so kiba shino and hinata

OTP?

i don’t really ship him with anyone

nOTP?

naruto/kiba

random headcanon?

he smells so badddd T.T like he literally complains when other ppl smell bad but i know that boy is stanky

unpopular opinion?

idrk if it’s unpopular cause i don’t involve myself in any kiba conversation really lol but i think had he actually wanted to progress for himself and his relationship with akamaru he could’ve done a lot better and gotten so much further rather than wanting to so he can catch up to/be better than naruto…

song i associate with them?

this is basic cause i don’t really think of kiba enough to find a song specifically for him but.. smells likw teen spirit by nirvana ig ?

favourite picture of them?

#i love sai sm tbhhhh #asks #yamanaka-shin

[void-inked-pen]

UGHHH DON’T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON HOW THEY WROTE MIKEY.. MY BOY DESERVED BETTER. ESPECIALLY SINCE HE WAS CONFIRMED TO HAVE ADHD. as a person with adhd as well it just. idk i try not to think about it just because it doesn’t sit right with me, though it would be a dishonor to just ignore it.

to be honest they ALL deserved better, like you were saying, the character writing *definitely* could’ve done more right by the turtles. they literally make whole episodes based off of a potential personality growth of a specific character or flaws within the family (such as not listening to each other) and then basically backpedal the entire thing for the sake of drama and/or comedy. it’s so painful to see and a lot of fans sympathize with this. this is why i love and hate fanfiction in this fandom, because people either utilize/write their characterizations really well/more properly, or… just make it worse. but i’ve been trying to cultivate my experience so i only see the stuff i enjoy. there is some whacked up stuff out there, i’ll say that!

don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t my intent to neglect anything when just calling them dysfunctional without pointing out specific flaws (not that i necessarily think you’re trying to accuse me of that). i actually talk about this stuff with a handful of friends of mine that i met in a tmnt server. it’s really interesting to dive into, especially because while they would all die for each other in a heartbeat but if they have to properly express one (1) thing that emotionally hurt them they will literally jump through hoops to avoid it.

and lmao yeah, the current reincarnations of tmnt do tend to stray a bit from their roots. not always a bad thing, but i get what you’re saying. i really like the gritty stuff because i’m a sucker for angst, however i think it’s very important to find that good balance between humor and seriousness, which is sometimes a hard balance to strike even for good writers. though, good writing can and does get thrown because of what the producers want. i don’t know if that’s the case for 2012, but 🤷

I try my best to be open-minded, eheh. I’m not the knower of everything, after all. I am guilty of being a little hardheaded and stuck in my ways, but I also really enjoy having these conversations with people who are willing to just be chill about it. I have may have some differing opinions on 12 Leo than you, for example, but that doesn’t give me the excuse to be rude like some people have in your askbox. I’ve been working on getting more out of my shell (heh) and exposing myself to new opinions, so I love this kind of forum! you definitely have a follow from me. also, minor note, I think you should watch the 2007 tmnt movie. afaik it’s a bit more serious, but it’s done really well so i think you might like it based off of what you’ve said so far. cheers!

- sai guy

Appreciate you sai guy~

I would also like to note: im so critical of a lot of the characters in this franchise because I love them too, its not cause I only like one version over the other its cause I like how the different characters are written~

ah fanfiction.... how I both love and loathe thee~

(also on an aside, the character I'm the most upset with for how they are portrayed and written is Donnie because he's my favorite character and they basically made him an incel and also heavily dunked on just as badly as mikey and its so ANNOYING!! let that child rest and teach him how to talk to a girl like PLS)

I may watch that movie too but not rn lol my schedule is currently packed! thanks for chatting tho~

#pen talks #sai guy #rottmnt #tmnt 2012 #discussion

[katierosefun]

caroline, I can't stop thinking about all too well (the 10 minute version) and jwds. it's got me thinking about your fic anyways, don't be a stranger. it's got me thinking about how easy, how cruel, how self-sabotaging it would be for dong sik to either break up with joo won/prevent things from developing between by using their age gap as an excuse. or to use joo won's dad or the circumstances or to say that joo won isn't mature enough or or or or no, but, like, come on!!!

"And there we are again when nobody had to know You kept me like a secret, but I kept you like an oath Sacred prayer and we'd swear To remember it all too well" I "Well, maybe we got lost in translation Maybe I asked for too much But maybe this thing was a masterpiece 'til you tore it all up" AM "They say all's well that ends well, but I'm in a new hell Every time you double-cross my mind You said if we had been closer in age, maybe it would have been fine And that made me want to die" NOT

"Time won't fly, it's like I'm paralyzed by it I'd like to be my old self again But I'm still trying to find it After plaid shirt days and nights when you made me your own" OKAY "And did the twin flame bruise paint you blue? Just between us, did the love affair maim you too? 'Cause in this city's barren cold, I still remember the first fall of snow And how it glistened as it fell I remember it all too well" !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

anyway, i'm melting into the floor and i needed to tell you 😂

aaaah bo yes!!! firstly, i’m so touched that all too well (10 min) got you remembering anyways, don’t be a stranger, just because that fic def. yeah. it was lowkey inspired and brought on by the feelings that i think are just very real in stories that are common to all too well and scott street by phoebe bridgers, just. you know, that feeling of like. a relationship that truly stuck with you for a long time, and it might have ended really poorly but also it still feels significant somehow.

and also, yeah—i do hope that dong sik gets to the point where he realizes that he is so easy to genuinely love, and i hope that there comes a day (if it hadn’t come already: it’s been a full year since dong sik and joo won have reunited, after all) that dong sik realizes that joo won’s going to crawl back into his life, no matter how hard he genuinely pushes. (i mean, joo won came back, over and over and over again in those beginning days. post-finding min jeong’s body, post-episode ten, even after the goddamn arrest. i don’t think there’s anything that could permanently chase joo won away!)

#answered #beyond evil

[can-you-hear-me-yet]

I wish I felt real.

I know I am. In fact, I am overwhelmed with the constant fact that I exist. In an uncontrollable and unrelenting world, where there are billions of perceptions of life, I understand that I exist and that my presence has the ability to change the course of several lives. Yet, I can’t get this idea out of my head that if I left right now and walked until I physically dropped, nothing would be different. I’d be farther away and a lot more tired, but after I walked back it would be like nothing happened at all.

That doesn’t add up. It should make a difference. Of course, I am actually sitting in bed writing this. If I started to walk nothing could happen but I could also be hit by a car, abducted by a stranger, make a wrong turn get lost and never find my way back. There are endless possibilities of what could happen and where. I could die in my sleep without every knowing what was coming.

So why is it so important to feel real if I know that I am? Why so I seek long term happiness if I can cloud myself in constant reoccurring bursts of dopamine? Is the pause in between too much to handle or am I afraid that if I were to truly experience happiness I’d realize I’ve never felt it before?

I told my girlfriend I wanted to go on a drive but that I would get upset because my brain would question whether or not we could afford to use that gas. She agreed and went to sleep thinking I was going with her. I am awake now, wishing she would have talked me into going on that drive. Yet I am unable to be upset or even disappointed because I provided both the suggestion and the rejection.

Typically I rant about these things on Snapchat but I have a fear of being heard at the moment because I know that I believe everything I say. Not to sound stuck up but I am usually right. Not about everyday little things but I get these gut feelings that I’ve learned to trust and they tell me I don’t have friends. That those who are listening are not hearing me and it hurts. Every ignored cry leaves a scar within me that itches every time I yearn to cry out.

I can’t make noise when I cry. I have been practicing alone in the bath but sound won’t leave my throat. It burns to stay quiet, cremating my screams and scattering the ashes over my childhood. I want to be heard. When I’m laughing and when I’m crying.

I want my best friend to talk to me again. I want my mom to acknowledge she hurt me. I want my grandpa to forgive himself and my grandma to give herself room to be whoever she wants to be. I want my aunt to treat herself like a human being and not a medical file. I want my sister to be safe. I want my girlfriend to be happy. I want to feel alive.

I want someone to tell me they know that I am not ok. I want someone to hit me with a reality check in some fleeting hope that my head will reattach to my shoulders and tel me what to do. I need to be me again.

I can’t even remember what I typed… I think I need to see a therapist. Work some of this out. Just in case I actually go through with that thought, my goal is to feel real. To feel alive. I don’t want to think about why I replied “No worries” to the cashier but “Of course” to the lady I opened the door for. It’s a useless thought that overtook a memory of whatever I was doing in the moment. I remember how hard I was breathing when I kissed my girlfriend for the first time, but I can’t remember kissing her. My childhood memories consist of the photos I’ve seen in passing. I used to walk through 5 towns everyday after school because it was better than being at home. I would stay up all night after school, sneak out at 3am walk around until 6am sneak back in then go to school. I would drain my body of any energy all in effort to feel alive and it worked. I really wish it didn’t because it’s all I can think about now and I am pleading to my future self that I show this to my therapist.

I know this is a mess.

This is my cry for help. This is as loud as I can be.

[pseudepigraphon]

i love your art style so much!!! it brings to mind classical artists and it’s just. ajdjjffjkfkvkf incredible. how did you go about developing such a unique style? i feel like i’m in a rut of my art looking very generic and i’m not sure how to get out of that.

thank you so much !!! i'm not sure if i would call myself qualified to give advice but here goes.

first things first, i wanna say that i totally understand your feelings, at times i've struggled and will likely continue to struggle with the fear that my art is generic and unrecognizable. to that i'd like to say that unrecognizability is a very nebulous concept; there's no hard line between distinct and not so. is renowned art not often a part of movements? also consider that your perspective is likely very skewed by the fact that it's your art -- not necessarily that you may be harsher on yourself than you would be on another person but the fact that no one else is looking at your art as much as you are. however long it takes you to draw you're staring at all your art for the entirety of its drawing, when no one else has. i've noticed it in all kinds of creative stuff i do -- with writing too i'll often go "ugh this is boring and generic and obvious" and then i'll remember that i've typed at and reread this manuscript a bajillion times. it's a matter of perspective! try to remember that when a person sees your artwork it is the work as is, they do not have the familiarity that you do with your own process and the time it took to do so. they have fresher eyes, it’ll be new to them!

if you find you're beginning to get stuck in a rut of self-criticism that feels harsher than usual, the best things you can do (at least in my experience) are: 1 DO STUDIES! or 2 TRY SOMETHING WACKY!

1 DO STUDIES! look at the work of artists you admire! go look at something in your house, out in your life! find a photo or object you really like! and STUDY THAT THING! When you get an idea for something to draw, STUDY THAT TRAIN OF THOUGHT! EXPLORE IT! explore the world and the visuals you can draw from it in all its nooks and crannies!

obviously studies are pretty broad as like. a Thing, and i mentioned several types above. studies are basically like artistic practice, with you visually following your trail of thought until you're secure enough in your skills that you can then advance onto proper pieces. like taking a practice test !

if you really like an artist and want to figure out what exactly makes their style click, then look at your favorite pieces and use it as a reference, sketch the piece down, try to figure out what you can do, deduce what techniques they did and replicate them. as a note, obviously with these if you want to share them then mention it's a study, though i would recommend you only share if it's a well known and/or artist who has died, due to the fact that it's kind of disrespectful to try and get art clout off of someone's work that they could have gleaned. but also a study doesn't have to be a copy -- there are plenty of artists who try to work in another artist's style but use their favorite characters or pairings instead (me included, lol)

but also i would highly recommend studying how to draw from real references ! go outside and do art out in the environment, or even just from the view from the nearest window, or the objects on your desk. the thing about studies is that they're practice, they flex the muscles that drive your inner skill that can then be projected into pieces with less second guessing.

2 TRY SOMETHING WACKY! i'm a big 'oh my god i need enrichment in my enclosure or i will DIE' kind of guy, so i find that these really help too. sometimes when i'm stuck in a rut it's because i've burrowed myself too much into monotony, i've done too much similar things for too long. if you feel that way, then try something WACKY just completely OUT OF LEFT FIELD something you've NEVER DONE BEFORE (not literally Completely different from what you're used to but y'know ! something new!) whether it be a medium or style or approach or technique or subject matter or what !!! it's basically the aforementioned enrichment -- yeah sure trying something you're not used to can end in frustration or a result not as good as you'd like, but it'll also give that great spark of variety that can make you go "WOAH! I REALLY LIKE THIS!" and boom, you've both rejuvenation and a new idea / method / aspect of style in your arsenal

if i had to think of the main thing that's influenced how i stylize people, i'd probably land it on franco-belgian comics / bandes dessinées, especially les tuniques bleues and corto maltese. i have no idea if my art looks like bd art, or if it ever did, but it's a huge love of mine and likely bled in somehow, hah. but of course that's only a fraction of what you'd call an 'art style'. (in general i'd say the main pillar of my philosophy with approaching stylizing people is to make them unique and to avoid conventional beauty. to bring out imperfection and the subtle traits that blossom out to make a person's face their own. because i love human faces, but also i love human faces when they don't look like white twink / instagram gal #455934384)

i would say i developed my style by just admiring and referencing from things i love !!! those, if it isn't obvious enough, being things like folk art, clothing and textiles across history, manuscripts from all across the world (if you want manuscripts to dig through i have a bunch of links to some stashed here, along with a bunch of other art history resources), aspects of nature like karst formations but also how things in nature are stylized into art by people and how they have over time. i'm a big art history fan so i tend to absorb a lot of information, technical and artistic, about art across history in its many forms, methods, and across peoples. obviously not everyone likes art history so i can't prescribe it as a panacea but a love for how people across time and space have done things is so fascinating to me, from the swirling dots of jōmon figures to the curling leaves of medieval french manuscripts to the movement of haida transformation masks to the shine of byzantine mosaics to the flora of batik to this and that.

i can't tell you to get a special interest in art history, but i can tell you to look at what you love and find out why you love it. and study. and try something wacky. and remember that there is always another branch to grow. godspeed ! :-)

#ask #anonymous #not art #what did i say about all my responses being insufferably long #sorry this took a while to answer btw! my ass has been having a Schedule lately #also remember the idea of having a consistent and single art style won't do any good for you 👍 Do What The Fuck You Want

[fighterkimburgess]

So I just rewatched the season finale and I feel like they are setting up season 10 for Voight to go completely off the rails and potentially end with him leaving/d wording/going to jail at the end of it. I just feel like with Anna’s death he really thought he could save her and he couldn’t and we saw with Justin how hard he took it and now he doesn’t really have anyone to keep him on the straight and narrow. Jay is trying but he’s still his boss, Trudy has some sway but I don’t even think her influence is enough to straighten him out. I’m not sure these thoughts even make much sense but you are the person who seems to understand Voight the most so just wondering if you have any predictions of where you think we are going next? (Also definitely agree that 21 was set up to be the finale and 22 the first episode of 10...)

Welcome to one of my favourite topics - how this fandom often misreads Voight’s actions and wants to see him in a negative light. Sit down, grab some popcorn. We may be here a while.

I think we’re being set up for Voight dying, and this is the start of it. The entire theme of the last season was home - Upstead’s home is with themselves. Adam and Kim have an awkward, sometimes uncomfortable family together with Makayla. Kevin’s stuck in no man’s land between being a cop and a Black man, and he’s trying to find his balance in both.

But Voight has, for the fourth time, lost a child figure. We know Justin was a twin but his sister was stillborn, there’s number one. He couldn’t save Justin from himself, no matter what he tried. He couldn’t save Erin. And now he watched Anna die and he couldn’t save her and Rafa. That’s three children who have died and one who he’s lost for good.

I don’t think he’s gonna blame Hailey for this - she’d already proven that she’d kill someone who put him in danger, it’s just what happened here again. But what does he have left? Just this unit.

I don’t think it’s going to be deliberate. I don’t think he’s going to go dark!Voight. But I think he’s going to take risks that he usually wouldn’t and put himself in danger that way. I always go back to his line to Antonio in season six “let the young guys be first through the door”. He’s gonna be first through. And he’s going to end up dying because of it. Probably the end of s10, after things seem to be going nearly too well. And it’s gonna kill me but I’ll love it.

#cíara answers

[la-principessa-nuova]

I need goals. Like long term ones. Because I’m laying here in bed at nearly 1 PM on my last day off work (there’s still the weekend, but last of my actual PTO days I took this week), and I don’t want to be here. My back is kinda sore, and I’d like to get up. But I don’t know what to do when I do.

Like sure, I can temporarily distract myself with brushing my teeth, washing my face, etc. I can focus on short term needs like lunch, but then what?

Like there are things I want to do, like write a book, or maybe more appropriately things I’d like to have done, and I’d like to find a partner and all that stuff, but like none of it feels like a goal.

When I was in college there was always graduating and getting a job. And then I wanted to move on to bigger and better things in my career, but I lost interest in that. And then there was buying a house and I did that. But nothing has felt like an actual goal since then.

Even transitioning doesn’t quite feel like that. Like I want to stop hating all the things about my body that I want to change, and sometimes I get that feeling like transitioning is going to open up the possibility of a future, but like what future?

And I think about the fact that I spend so much time alone and I think I should make friends and start hanging out with people but what will that do for me? Provide some momentary distraction? It would be fun in the moment. Why is that not the goal? Is it because it seems exhausting, overwhelming? I feel like work takes everything out of me to a point where even on my week off I can’t do anything worth doing because if it’s not done this week it’s too much if it carries to next week.

And I think this is why there’s still that voice of doubt in the back of my mind that creeps in whenever my thoughts get a little too practical and panics that I shouldn’t transition, that I’ve just gotten stuck in my head about all of this, because the only goals I can imagine are the ones presented to me by society.

It’s so much easier to follow the blueprint you’re handed. Go to school, get a job, climb the corporate ladder, find a wife, settle down, have kids, raise kids, retire, wait around for your grandkids to visit, die. You don’t have to think for yourself, just follow one step to the next and the next goal is clear. Even if you feel empty inside there’s a direction to drift towards and momentary distractions to keep you from thinking too hard about what you want while you step day-by-day through life.

But then I had to go and think about it. And now I realize that there is something I want. I always knew there was because I always have this feeling in my heart like I’m hungry but not for food even if sometimes I confuse the two. And I don’t know what it is, but there is a desire for fulfillment. And I want to reach whatever that feeling is, but I just don’t know how.

But I know that the thought transitioning makes me feel better. It’s scary as hell, but it takes away some of the emotional pain. And people say that therapy helps and honestly I don’t have any clue how it could but I’m giving it a shot. Suddenly this paragraph feels very hopeful and it feels poetic if I crescendo into an uplifting point, but I don’t have one.

I’m not happy and I don’t know what can make me. I feel like between the way I grew up and my particular brand of neurodivergence and the effects of the pandemic, I just don’t know how to be happy anymore. I don’t know how to initiate a social situation. I don’t want to initiate a social situation but also I do. I desperately crave human connection and yet I am terrified of having any amount of responsibility to maintain a relationship.

There is a part of me that sees my current social situation as rock bottom and a part that sees it as having struck gold because there are no expectations on me. I want to talk to someone but if someone messages me I typically don’t respond. And if I do it’s a day late and it goes nowhere.

And I don’t know, just in general, I feel like I want to do more, but I want to do it instead of work. I don’t even play games or anything any more. I watch Dropout and some YouTube videos and that’s it. I haven’t read a book since December and only a couple chapters of manga. I did read a couple web comics but most binged over a couple days. I started a bunch of games this week and only played for like an hour and I was having fun but I felt like I needed to stop and have no desire to come back to them other than some sense of obligation to finish.

[roadkiii]

Entry 1.6.4-2 - The Oakenhall of Timberport

Welcome to my blog. I’m not tagging anything but entry #, so sorry if my unrelated mess somehow ends up in your search.

Just realized 1.6 came out in 2013 so we're now in a 10 year old edition, slowly catching up.

I'm wondering if maybe I should focus on more farming, just grind in my existing plains biomes especially since acacia/dark oak is being added in 1.7. Then I considered waiting until 1.7 to roam for horses, but if I run into a roofed forest then, I might lose access to a woodland mansion (not added until 1.11) so I truly can't wander much until biomes and caves are locked in.

This adds an interesting aspect to my gameplay, since usually in a Normal™ minecraft world I will typically wander too far from my base, die, have no idea where I was, and give up. Hence why my last major world project was hardcore. I hate being locked into hard mode but I acknowledge that I am not a good enough gamer to play on hard all day every day.

Tangent aside, I'm going to be stuck in 1.6 for a while I think. Which is disappointing, because I am Very excited for afk fish farming in 1.7 but can't upgrade.

If I'm going to be here for a while, I'm going to spend some time properly constructing buildings around the village. I've been doing little bits of terraforming and tearing down houses, I think my (kind of ugly) house) is one of the few buildings left standing. I'd like to relocate my house, maybe to the top of the mountain above Giratina, but I don't know.

I think this location would be good for a better hotel/inn setup than I currently have, I scaled down a "modern" build I saw on google for the previous villager housing and I don't think I'm a fan. Reconstruction time!

I do want to make sure I reuse these brick stairs for something in the new build though, bricks were (and kinda still are) a flex.

Also, because achievements reset again, I got "Getting Wood" for tearing down my own home. Incredible.

I think I could make a wheat farm underneath the housing, safely locked away from the villagers who will probably find a way to trample it.

[ONE WEEK OF GAMEPLAY LATER]

hey so uh. there were a few progress pics but tumblr ate my previous draft of this post. Say hello to Oakenhall. I played with fantasy name generator and kinda got stuck on a wood theme kick bc I want to use mostly wood for the village buildings and plant an illuminated (maybe more froglight mushroom themed later on) forest close to the walls.

It'll be expensive and time consuming, but I want to put logs columns where I would have placed corner stairs on the wall, if that makes sense.

like hiding where the wall corners meet.

Anyway, I wanted this blog to be a bit more journal-y so I'm going to start doing more weekly-ish posts where I play in small increments before work and *maybe* make more progress on days off, maybe. Then at the end of the week I'd just tour any unique changes rather than my current strategy of literally blogging while I play, which is kind of distracting.

Timberport Tuesdays. or smth.

ANYWAY. I want to make the most of this is a kind of taste of what the new entrys will be like.

This is the back of Oakenhall, I wanted to make some kind of back mural but with only a 3x5 area I just made it a little abstract rainbow.

This roof will take me forever I hate building roofs so much this is why I just squared off the old building

Also, can we talk about how time consuming wooden builds are?

Like between the walls and floor (don't get me started on accent logs) this takes so much wood. But also, I wanted to show somehow that this is plank floor so I used all the stairs I got from tearing down villager roofs as a kind of baseboard.

At the rate I'm going and how much wood I still need, I might have to take a break from building to enchant another axe (silk touch would be nice, even if its not on a pickaxe..)

I don't think I would ever make an automatic tree farm. If I'm going to build something from wood, I would much rather just cut down trees (getting saplings to hoard to turn into bone meal later) than have to create complex redstone contraptions to break the game and duplicate sand to mine the wood with TNT. Waaayyy too much work.

Between those two logs is the entrance, I have 8 doors and 8 beds on this floor. I still haven't crafted any paintings for the interior but I'm focusing on the 2nd floor walls rn so my wool is going to smth else

the 2nd story has 10 doors and 12 beds, I'm prepped for when they'll eventually need beds, and I may have some "accidental" villagers walking into lava so that I can get every profession here.

I do have quite the little collection of them now, I'm pretty sure they're ready to move into their new home. Could've swore I had a priest and a few more villagers but they could've wandered off or killed themselves climbing my incomplete demolitions. I did accidentally axe one.

Glad the golem is happy w/ the new place :)

I guess my next post will be next Tuesday if everything goes according to plan.

next (1.6.4-3)

#1.6.4 pt2