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#can we get some leafs doing this?
ruslangazizov · 6 months
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oh my god i don’t go here but i’m immediately endeared
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fleshadept · 2 years
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Rocky + magic
Boy (2010) dir. Taika Waititi
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moregraceful · 9 months
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picture the trope where A rushes up to B at a crowded bar or club and says please please do a me a favor and kiss me/act like my date to make my ex jealous/make this asshole stop hitting on me/some other urgent reason. who on the Giants, Sharks, and/or Cuda is most likely to be A? who as B is most likely to say sure I got ya? who is most likely to say fuck no? you can answer within each team or across teams, however you like.
omg well first of all I would be remiss in admitting that I sort of wrote this fic with Kris Bryant and Brandon Crawford, when I was deep in my Kris Bryant Is A Giant thirst and very foolishly believed Farhan Zaidi did not want me dead in the delta somewhere, BUT it lacked urgency. also it's not very good. but it exists, as a time capsule...
Giants: I truly believe Patrick Bailey is so goofy in private that he doesn't know shit about fuck but he IS good in a crisis, so he cheerfully kisses the hell out of Brett Wisely when Brett begs him to play along to get this asshole off his back. (ig we're going rookies tonight.) conversely Joc Pederson would say fuck no bc I don't trust him and also the Rogers twins would be too confused to play along appropriately but their corpse-like pallor and dead-eyed stares would get the job done just the same. I love them. Anyway I chose Brett Wisely for A bc sometimes he reminds me of a nervous purse dog
Sharks: this was so hard bc I don't actually know who is on the Sharks...I think Oskar Lindblom is still a Shark?? and I think he would be in a club and some guys would get too weird about him AND! controversial opinion, I think he would turn to Mario Ferraro for help bc no one's fucking with a guy with no teeth even if that guy reviews bagels on Youtube. Mario doesn't kiss him but he very possessively puts an arm around Oskar and smiles with zero teeth. Also Vlasic would say no to kissing, but he does start talking so loudly about water filtration and body decomposition that the guys who were getting too wild with Oskar get freaked out and leave them alone. Oskar is A because he is very pretty and often looks startled
Cuda: Daniil Gushchin needs to make his ex jealous...thanks for being my guy, tall Russian guy with a sweet smile <3 Nikolai Knyzhov is not his guy, he does not want this, his sexuality crisis is private and personal, but when a feral little man is climbing him like a tree, what is he going to do honestly. This guy seems like he might bite hard enough to draw blood if Nikolai drops him?? Guess he's gotta kiss him. This is a crossover bc I just looked at the Cuda roster and Kny isn't listed however it's important to me that Goosh and Kny kiss. Also I think Shakir Mukhamadullin would be so startled he would say no but then he would feel really bad and buy Goosh a drink so the ex gets jealous in the end anyway. I also got in at the ground floor of the Artem Guryev hype machine last year at the rookie tournament and I'm determined to get everybody on fuckin board this year now that he's with the team for real, so I'm saying he doesn't say yes to kissing but he does IMMEDIATELY start swinging, which is not what Goosh wanted, but is, in some ways, even better.
Thank you for asking...this made me so happy to think about...
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pokedcheck · 2 years
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Tbh we also hit one of their rookies and it was pretty bad. So imma just not say anything on the jets for that…
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exopelagic · 7 months
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I’m kinda glad I spent so much time looking at crop science this term bc turns out it’s unbearable and I couldn’t actually do this like I was considering. Progress!!
#it’s like FINE I can deal with it but long term??? I would fucking diw#crop people are so like. angry too. this is about you Sinclair#idk what it could be abt this topic specifically like. I’m guessing bc it’s high stakes largely expensive science with limited resources.#and goddamn nobody agrees on what you should be doing#there’s also the whole commercialisation thing bc the state of farming is pretty fucking bleak on all fronts#but especially on crop improvement. you patent your thing immediately and hope a seed company buys it up and funds the expensive trials#bc otherwise there’s no way in hell your thing’s even getting made let alone actually being Used in any practical way#this is a group of people who are trying rlly hard to help people in a real tangible way in the face of smth genuinely terrifying#(crop yields haven’t significantly accelerated in decades and soon they won’t be able to keep up)#but the process to Doing Anything Abt It involves not only the typical hell of academia but the combined challenges of#stubborn farmers. uninformed public. late stage capitalism. the whole regulatory mess of GMOs#so it seems like everyone’s at each others throats all the time bc there’s this sense of urgency#bc hey dude we haven’t made much progress since artificial fertilisers but maybe if you FUCKING LISTENED TO ME#:/#im exaggerating not all of them are like this I’ve read some very nice very cool papers but goddamn some of them are Pissed#in a way I haven’t seen too much so far#as always I’m the annoying idealist what if we did All Of It Anyway#like come on what’s the harm in working C4 rice if we can get it that’d be incredible#we can’t we still figure out loads abt how leaf anatomy works and how C4 photosynthesis works is that not still a win. that shit has uses#ANYWAY THIS HAS BEEN MY CROPS RANT FUCK SINCLAIR ALL THE HOMIES HATE SINCLAIR#im sure he’s done some very important work on water use but the guy is so condescending I didn’t know you could do that in a paper#luke.txt
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writingouthere · 3 months
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exboyfriend!Sukuna x f!reader.
cw: smut, outdoor sex, angst, controlling behavior.
Your date was a disappointment.
The guy wasn't an asshole or anything, but at some point he'd talked about cryptocurrency for ten minutes straight without you saying a word and there was no coming back from that.
"I had a great time," he tells you as you stand on the subway platform after finally escaping the restaurant. You nod noncommittally and wonder if this is the part where he asks for your number. You're calculating the risk/reward of giving him a fake number and having him potentially call it while you're still right in front of him when you hear a familiar laugh from behind you.
"I doubt it," the voice says and you close your eyes. Maybe if you wish hard enough you can develop teleportation and not have to deal with this.
"I'm sorry, who are you?" your date asks, his voice only wavering a little as he looks at your ex-boyfriend. Honestly, you admire him. The sight of the tall, heavily tattooed (alleged) criminal was usually enough to make people cross the street to avoid him but not this accountant? Investment baker? Dentist? Fuck, he'd talked about his job for thirty minutes and you had not been listening. You would have guilty if you weren't actively judging him for not even noticing your lack of engagement.
Whatever, he probably wasn't brave, he was probably just an idiot.
Sukuna seemed to agree as he laughed again and put his hand on your shoulder.
"I'm her boyfriend."
Your date looked at him, looked at you, and seemed to be weighing if this was worth one mediocre date. He seemed frozen for a second until Sukuna took a step forward and the guy's previously dormant survival instincts seemed to awaken and he booked it down the train platform.
Once he was out of sight, you took Sukuna's hand and dropped it off your shoulder like a fallen leaf that had got stuck on your jacket.
"Are you following me, now?" You wouldn't have put it past him. You turn to face your ex who looks not only unrepentant for his little routine but vindicated. Or maybe he just looks vindictive, you can never tell.
"Are you going on dates with any loser that asks?" He tosses back and you roll your eyes.
"You didn't even meet him."
"So, he wasn't a loser? And you weren't deciding if it was worth giving him a fake number and having him call you right then?"
You hated that he knew you so well.
"He seemed the type to call," you concede and Sukuna scoffs.
"Absolutely, that fucker is. Women have been giving that dumb fuck fake numbers since he was begging for them with his little Nokia flip phone."
"Is Nokia still a thing?" you ask and Sukuna glares at you.
"Do I look like Google to you? Hey, don't try to district me, princess. We were talking about how you seem to have gotten it into your mind that you can cheat on me with any guy with a pulse."
"I'm not cheating on, we're not together," you tell him as your train pulls up. You don't bother protesting as he follows you on it, even though you know the old apartment you used to share is in the other direction from your new place.
"The fuck we're not," he seethes. The other riders look at you and you see one or two guys deciding if it's worth trying to get involved but you're more concerned about the teenage girl who looks ready to fight this asshole for you. God, you loved women.
"You're making a scene," you tell him and he looks ready to make the scene Oscar worthy before you give him the look that used to make him not call your friends' babies ugly when you went to birthday parties.
"Where can we talk then?"
"I'm not taking you to my place," you say and he sucks his teeth.
"Then let's go home."
"You mean to your home."
Sukuna looks furious but you're not in the mood. You had just spent the past two hours on a terrible date, which made you think about how dating was just going to be like this until you found a new boyfriend or gave up, which then made you think about your break up and how up until a few months ago, you thought you would never go on a first date with anyone ever again.
You hated that Sukuna had put you here and you hated that you still loved him.
"I'm not leaving until we talk about this."
"There's nothing to talk about."
You're so tired, Sukuna is so close and it's been so long since you got to smell him or feel his warmth. Your apartment was still barely furnished but everything in it was new and it still didn't feel like home. The one sweatshirt of his you'd let yourself take had stopped carrying his scent weeks ago, and just being close to him now, it made something in you relax. Like you were finally home.
"There fucking is," he hisses and now he's so close you can make out the scar on his jaw and the fullness of his lips. You used to tease him that you'd never met a man whose lips were as soft as his. He may have looked like tough shit, but you would never catch him out of the house without lotion and chapstick.
You wondered if he was still using the cherry chapstick you had bought him at the grocery store the week before you'd broken up.
"Are you going to marry me? Are you going to give me a baby?"
"Princess-"
"Then there's nothing to talk about," you say and you thank whoever's watching that the train is pulling up to your stop. You get off and Sukuna is right on your heels.
"You don't even want those things right now, why the fuck does it even matter?"
"I want them eventually and if you're not willing to give them to me, then I just don't think I need to keep wasting my time."
You're roughly dragged into a nearby alley and tossed against a brick wall. Sukuna's hand cups the back of your head, taking the force of the slam and you hate that he watches out for you even when he's being a controlling jackass.
"Being with me is wasting your time? Who the fuck do you think you are?"
"Not your girlfriend," you snap back. "Let go, I want to go home."
"Fuck you," he tells you and you're about ready to fight him, grown scary man or not when he leans down and his lips are on yours.
They taste like cherry chapstick.
His hand on the back of your head tightens, his thumb pressing against your neck and making you shiver. His other hand is pressed tight to your jaw and when you gasp against his mouth, he presses down as if he can hold you open and consume you so you can't leave him again.
His muscled thigh is in between yours and you can feel the rough texture of his jeans, the same pair he wore to work, the same pair you'd put through the washing machine a thousand times, rub against where your legs are only covered in tights. The shorter than usual skirt meant to entice your date, and instead it was being taken advantage of by your ex-boyfriend.
Sukuna let go of your face so he could put his hand underneath the fabric of your skirt.
"New outfit?" He teases as his hand slides to the top of your tights.
"Got it for my date," you snap and he growls at you before he rips the seams of your tights. Before you can complain, he's dragging them down your thighs and diving into your panties so he can get to your cunt. The underwear is new too and a pained noise leaves you at the sensation of them snapping against your inner thigh, both at the pain and the thought of how much they cost.
"I still have those blue ones you like at home, the ones you wore for my birthday last year," he tells you as he slides his finger down the seam of your cunt. You're wet and it annoys you because orgasming has been a bitch to achieve since you had to start giving them to yourself again.
"You can keep them," you tell him and he bites your lower lip between his teeth, they'd always felt too sharp for a man and you know you're a twitch or a less than playful nibble away from a busted lip.
"They're not really up for wearing anymore anyway."
You want to ask him what he means by that as he kisses down your neck and thrusts one finger into you, the slide almost unholy.
"So fucking wet, your cunt was always better at talking than you were."
The sensation of being filled even though it's not enough it's not enough begins to itch at your need to be satisfied as your mind fills in the gaps of his previous words.
You can imagine Sukuna in the bed you used to share, the dark blue sheets and the comforter covered in a black pattern that had reminded you of the marks that covered his body. One hand holding your favorite pair of panties and the other his big cock, that sometimes you missed even more than him.
Did he use the panties to jerk off with, the fabric just an expensive tissue for his cum? Did he hold them to his nose and pretend he could still smell your pussy on them in the bed that used to smell like both of you? You had tried watching porn and reading smut, the stuff you had relied on before you were together, and nothing compared to what it felt like to come from his fingers, his tongue, his cock.
The only times you had touched yourself when you were together were when Sukuna had wanted to watch, his commentary pushing you to the edge. He had always known what to say.
Good girl, now try two fingers for me. Not enough? Do you need my cock? Fucking slutty princess, eh?
No matter how demeaning his words were, you had never felt true shame because his desire for you was always apparent. Sukuna never held back praise where he felt it was deserved, and he had always been quick to let you know that what you were doing was pleasing him.
"Pay attention to me, princess. I'd hate to think I was boring you." The words are laced with cruelty and the added pressure of a second figure is harsh, too soon, and still not enough.
The hand in your hair tightens, but the grip still careful not to mess it up beyond repair. Something you'd been adamant about in the beginning days of your relationship. The gentleness of it, of him, makes you cry out.
Since Sukuna was the only one who still seemed cognizant of how you were in an alley, only a right turn from being on a public sidewalk, he was quick to catch your moan in his mouth. Nearly purring in reply, a ridiculous thing for a ridiculous man to do.
"Fuck, that's it. No one else can make you feel like this, this cunt is fucking mine."
"Yes," you hiss out in agreement. Pleased with your concession, Sukuna's thumb swipes over your clit as he continues his punishing rhythm with his fingers. You can hear how wet you are as it echoes off the brick around you. Even though it's cold outside, you feel almost too hot between the warmth of his body shielding yours from the world around you and the heat that's continuing to build up in your core.
"So close, I know you are. Beg me, princess and I might let you come," he whispers in your ear and you would feel embarrassed of the whine you let out if you weren't so close.
"Please, Sukuna. Please, let me come!"
"I don't know. Not sure if I should reward you since you've apparently being going around giving this pussy to fucking anyone."
You shake your head. "No, I haven't slept with anyone since we broke up."
Sukuna kisses you so hard, you're grateful for the hand behind your head because you know his knuckles must be bruised from the force he kisses you with. Sukuna pulls back, a string of saliva connecting his lips to yours and you hate that you find that hot. That this whole thing is hot.
For a second, the softness in his eyes takes your breath away and you almost forget about where you are and what you're doing and why it's the worst idea you've ever had. He's just Sukuna, the love of your life and you miss him so much.
You think he might say something crazy like he loves you or even propose but then the softness is gone and he just grins at you.
"Alright, come then, you've earned it."
With permission granted, Sukuna focuses his attention on your clit in just that way you like in the way that only someone who's done this hundreds of times could do. He's definitely leaving hickies around your collarbone and neck, but for now they feel good and when you come, you bite your lip knowing it will be bruised. A reminder of how you're an idiot when you look at it in the mirror tomorrow.
Still soft with your orgasm, you reach down to return the favor but Sukuna grabs your hand.
"I'm not walking around with cum in my jeans," he tells you, kissing your palm. Typical of him, to end something crass with something sweet. You sigh as he puts you back down on the ground. You pull up what remains of your tights, the fabric uncomfortable on your quickly drying thighs. Your ripped panties lie on the ground and Sukuna looks at them forlornly before shaking his head, dirty alleyway panties apparently being too much even for him.
Sukuna grabs the bag you'd dropped when he'd kissed you and gestures for you to exit the alley. A few passersby give you strange looks but you figure if you were going to be arrested for public indecency, it would have happened already.
"I guess we're going to mine," you say. "I live like another two blocks this way."
"I know," Sukuna says already heading that way.
You blow a piece of hair out of your eye. "Of course you do."
When Sukuna actually types in the passcode to your building you almost lose it, but you're tired and honestly you had kind of expected to just come home to him already in your apartment at some point. Sukuna had never been great at respecting boundaries. Or the law.
You unlock the door to your apartment, it takes everything in you not to ask if he already has a key. You don't want to know. He follows you in and the two of you sit at the dingy two person table you have set up by one of the only windows.
"Cozy."
"Fuck you." He smirks in that way that has always made you want to punch him and you're reminded that you're currently wearing shredded tights.
"Sukuna, you wanted to talk. So talk."
The smirk leaves his face and he looks at his nails, pressing his thumb against the one on his pointer finger and then looking through the 'o' formed there. "You left."
"I did."
He looks at you. "Why?"
"You know why," you say, tired again.
"Sure, you want to get married at some point. You want a baby at some point. I don't see what that has to do with us, right now."
"Because right now leads to that some point. It doesn't just happen. There are things I want, that are important to me. If they're not important to you, then I need to find someone who has the same priorities as me."
"Because I'm not your priority," he says and this is the rehash of an argument you'd had a thousand times. Sukuna was selfish and possessiveness and while that had always granted you a certain security, it had also been a chain you'd constantly worn around your ankle. You weren't going to defend your time at work or with friends to your boyfriend. That belonged to a different time, to different women and it had been a nonnegotiable early in your relationship that he figure that shit out with himself.
"Sukuna, I love you but I'm not going to give up what I want for my future because you don't want it. You don't have to want it, in fact I appreciate that you've been honest about it-"
"So appreciative, you left me," the words are almost snarled and you sigh.
"That's not fair. You can't be mad I want something else, the same way I'm not mad that you want something else. It's not a character flaw to not want to get married, or to not what kids. It just means you have a person out there for you who shares that view. Because it's not me."
"Why can't it be enough to just have a life with the two of us?"
"It's not about whether or it's enough, it's about me wanting something else."
There's a pause. Sukuna claws at the dents already in your battered table and deepens the grooves as you try not to flinch at the sound of his nails bearing down on wood.
Finally, he responds. "You know, I spent my childhood, my teens and a lot of adulthood raising Yuuji because our piece of shit parents couldn't be bothered and let me tell you. It's fucking hard. It is constant and they need so much for you. I didn't do anything but work and watch him for almost two decades and I don't want to do that again. I want my own life."
"I understand," you tell him. "That was a lot, even if you did a great thing by taking him in."
"It wasn't because I was nice. You seem to be forgetting that I'm a murderer. And you want me to fucking watch Bluey with some brat."
"You may not be nice but you do right by the people you care about. I also don't think you've murdered a baby, it would probably be okay."
"That's more incidental than a conscience choice," he says and you know he has to hear how ridiculous he sounds.
"Alright. I respect your decision but for what it's worth, we're not kids anymore and you wouldn't be doing this alone. I think Yuuji turned out pretty great because he had you, and I think any kid of our would be lucky to have you as a dad."
"You would really do all that with me," he says and his voice is as close to wonderous as you've ever heard it. "You really are a lost cause."
You try not to react, remind yourself that this is always how Sukuna responds to affection. He'd laughed at you the first time you'd told him you loved him. You'd punched him and broken your hand on his chin. He'd told you he loved you in the ER as the attendant resetting your hand looked on in horror.
"I think that's enough for today. Thanks for stopping by and for the orgasm, appreciate it," you say, rising from the chair. You walk the short trip to your door and open it. "Hope you have a safe trip home."
Sukuna stays seated. "That's it?"
"Yeah, Sukuna, that's it."
"And if I said I could do this, I could give you those things."
You think about it and look him over. How his hands twitch as if only his ego is preventing them from clenching. The clear trauma that was informing his previous stance.
"I'd say take some time and maybe talk to someone. I don't want to do this with someone who can just bring themselves to bear it. I want them to be as excited as me."
"That's asking for a lot from a guy."
"But someone will do it." Sukuna looks angry again and when he steps in your space, you push him gently away with your hand. He goes to hold it and even the familiar scrape of his calluses against your skin can't make you waver.
"Bye, Sukuna."
Sukuna looks at you, waiting for you to give in you know but you won't.
He leaves without another word.
When the door to the stairwell slams shut, you finally let yourself cry.
----------
It's been a month since you've seen Sukuna and you're on another date.
The guy is unoffensive. He gave you a hug when you met up and he'd made a joke about the plethora of other couples at the restaurant. You two started playing a game where you tried to guess how many dates each couple had been on?
"Three, she's finally figured out she can't put up with how he chews no matter how nicely coiffed his hair is," your date says as you take another sip of your drink.
"That's a second date, his chewing is a commit or quit type of deal and she looks ready to go. Bet they didn't eat together on their first date."
"Is he telling the plot to Dune, he has not stopped talking since we sat down," he says and you giggle despite yourself.
You've just started on the couple both looking determinedly at their phones by the window when your phone rings.
"Sorry, I need to take this," you say and he smiles.
"No worries, I'll let you know how many times she misses her mouth while looking at her phone."
You wave as you go to stand outside. You take a deep breath and then answer.
"Hey."
"Hey, princess. Bad time?"
"No, just, what do you want?"
"Well, I'm planning this first date with this girl and I'm having trouble figuring out how to explain something."
You want to throw up, what kind of test is this?
"What do you want to say?"
"Well, I've heard that it's important to be straightforward with your intentions, so you don't waste anyone's time."
"And what are your intentions?" You manage to spit out and he laughs, his smugness almost seeping out the phone.
"Well not anytime soon, but eventually I think I'd like a little brat. You know, prove to Yuuji that he wasn't a fluke."
You heart is pounding and you hate him. You love him.
"Uh huh."
"And I guess it would probably be easier to do that if we just got married. You know, taxes, healthcare, I still don't have healthcare but my wife will and I've heard you can add people to that."
"This proposal is the fucking worst one I've ever heard," you say, trying to ignore the fact you are now crying in front of a restaurant. People walk by giving you pitying looks, probably think you got stood up.
"It's not a proposal, it's a framing of intent."
"Why do you talk like such an old man, we are almost the same age?"
"Why do you talk like such a brat?"
"You know-"
"Probably," he says and you laugh despite yourself.
"So when is this date?"
"Tonight," he says. "You can wear that dress you're wearing, it looks perfect on you."
"Are you fucking here, you creep?"
"That's no way to talk to your future husband and no. That place is a shithole, I'm at our usual."
"Good, I've missed it. No one makes my drink the way I like it," you tell him and he hums.
"Well, it will be waiting for you when you get here. So get here soon."
"Alright, I'll see you soon."
Sukuna hangs up and you stand there. There's a perfectly nice guy inside. One who makes you laugh and who maybe one day you could grow to love.
But there's another guy across town who is sitting at your favorite restaurant, ordering your favorite drink. His lips taste like the organic chapstick, he claims to be too tacky to be worth wearing but keeps it in his pocket anyway. He built all your furniture and let you paint your bathroom green even though you live in a rental. He's held your hair back when you were sick and cleaned it up even as he bitched at you for the mess and done a rather cruel impression of you retching.
There's another guy that you love.
So you go back into the restaurant to tell your perfectly nice date that something has come up.
Maybe you're a fool, but what else could you do?
Maybe this will be a series, idk. Being an adult is weird. This is def ooc but you know, let me work through things and call them fiction. That's what this account is for.
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inkskinned · 6 months
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it is the first snow today. i think we should all have off work, even though it didn't stick. i think there should be 4 national holidays, one for each season. happy first snow, go home and make cookies. for spring it can be the first crocus. for summer the first lightning bug. for autumn, the first golden leaf. go home, kiss your dog, feed your cat (who is absolutely already-fed but somehow still starving.)
i think we should all take more showers together, but i mean that in the soft way. i mean it like taking a nap. two years ago i had 5 adult friends in my queen bed, all of us laying across each other, head over belly over thigh over hand. any time one of us would giggle, it would ripple over each of us, like pulling on a spiderweb. kim actually needed to nap and didn't get to sleep and i am still sorry for it even though this is one of my most precious memories.
i think we should all wash each other's hair, i mean. i walk my dog and i watch someone put up twinkle lights around their front porch. alex and i just moved, and i love the neighborhood. already so many of our new neighbors have stopped by to say hello. the nice lady downstairs also collects plants, like me. she gave us her number on a pink post-it note. i am trying to decide whether to make her cookies or brownies.
i am going through a very hard time. something bad happened this weekend that i do not wish to discuss. it is hanging over me. i think of the green ribbon, and the woman who had her throat cut. it feels like that sometimes, inside of my body. like i am walking and talking despite being half-corpsed. like i am hanging on by a ribbon, standing on some kind of cusp. i keep saying - at least it wasn't worse. we are so lucky it wasn't worse. the idea is river-rock smooth now, all the edges worried off.
in this very dark night - the sun sets by 3 now - people don't need to, but they try anyway. they paint the missing light into things. i have an embarrassing number of missed calls and texts, but i feel the love from them nevertheless - hey. if you need something, i'm here. i will bring you food/puzzles/anything. i got you.
i think we should all have a big group chat where we do errands with strangers. this week i got lost in a home depot, which is wild because i'm a lesbian and we are actually hatched in a lowe's lumber section. there were two other women in the whole store. we ended up shopping together, at first by accident (we all needed things in the same aisle), and then because, well, why not. one of the ladies was taller than me, so she pulled down the screws i needed. i am agile and have the personality of a raccoon, so they sent me after anything below 3 feet. we talked about holiday plans and never learned each other's names, but did learn all the drama about each other's families.
i am making you cupcakes, because i have so much affection i want to pour it into batter. you ask me if i am eating enough per meal. i wrap your gift twice, trying to do it prettily. i get excited to give it to you, just because i hope you'll be excited too.
my parents drive an hour just to see the new apartment and to do the parent thing; standing in the kitchen saying things like "oh you'll get so much use from this dishwasher" and "well, you could paint that" and "when your mother and i moved it was uphill both ways and in a snowstorm and of course your brother was an infant." my mother brought me a plant for housewarming. i always say i love you before she leaves.
i play dnd on tuesdays still, after all these years. we all keep that night free. at one point, between grad school and marriage and all of it, we had to have a serious discussion about how to keep it running. we will keep going, we decided eventually. just to see each other, even if we don't play - you are all important to me. sebastian is not prone to affection but last night he stole my usual sign off - i love you all, be good, he said. he was laughing.
i don't love the winter, actually. i like snow in theory, but i grew up in the north, and am too-familiar with the season of "mud and sludge". i don't like being cold. but i do love something kind of soft and rare: every year around this time, people remember oh yes. you and i are human together. and i have love to spare.
it is the first snow, and something in my heart is finally warm again. i have spent what felt like the last 18 months just going-through-the-motions. it has felt blank and immediate, like i would never actually feel again. that sounds extremely trite and stupid - but that is the boring and familiar experience of depression. life just washes up against your windows, and you watch it happening. you see things that should be lovely and affecting, and it just whispers too-thin. i was desperately uncreative. uninterested in my hobbies. unimpressed by my writing. i told my therapist, often, i don't know how to find hope again.
almost sheepishly, something strange and lovely is burning in my chest. i keep not-looking at it, worried it will scamper back into the shadows again. it is skittish and wild, but it is so warm i want to sink my hands into its fur and feel it breathing. i love-hate it: if it's real, it can hurt me when it leaves again. but i am icarus-born, sun-lover and poet: i can't help myself. despite my best intentions, i am falling in love with life again.
i am planning to make cookies for my friends. alex and i are going to go christmas tree shopping. we picked out matching dish towels last night, and they have little mushrooms on them.
i love you. it does come back. yes, even after a long time. even for you. i promise. keep trying. you will wake up and it will be a day you can smile about.
write me when you get there. we will take the day off of work, and i will wash your hair, and we will both be laughing.
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headspace-hotel · 8 months
Text
Fact is, mechanical mowing is nothing at all like grazing in terms of its impacts upon a plant community.
Grazing animals are selective in how they forage, eating plants they find tastier and avoiding plants they don't like. In this way, the power of a highly competitive plant could be nerfed because that plant is yummy and gets eaten more.
Grazing animals also don't graze uniformly over a whole pasture—they have areas they prefer to hang out and areas they hang out in less. This creates a broad range of specific levels of pressure that the plant communities face
Grazing animals chop and churn up soil with their hooves. They jostle seeds loose and bury them in mud. They compact some areas of soil but not uniformly.
Grazing animals poop. Ruminants like cattle, bison, goats, and deer use symbiotic bacteria that live in their guts to digest their food. The bacteria break down the plants into nutrients. When the animal defecates, it provides a feast of nutrients and moisture for plants and insects.
Finally, grazing animals are significantly slower and less violent than lawn mowers, and thus less likely to run over critters and shred them to bits.
I doubt it would be possible to comprehensively measure how many insects get shredded to bits by lawn mowers, or what impact this has on the overall population, but running a Creature-Shredding Machine regularly over your entire yard can't be good for them. You're chopping up a lot of caterpillars and other flightless larval forms of bugs, which birds need a LOT of in spring to feed to baby birds, among literally everything else.
Our turf grasses evolved to have large animals munching them down, which is why we have to cut them with machines. However, the machines fail entirely to fulfill their part of the symbiosis.
Most importantly, the machines spew shredded plant material all over the ground, where the mess dries out and essentially does nothing. Lawns are too short to hold in the ground's moisture, and perpetually sun-drenched because of the scalped plant cover. Ruminants chew their cud to help their bacteria break down the incredibly tough plant material into a form that releases the absorbable nutrients. Lawn mowers are not meticulous like that. The shreds take forever to be decomposed—assuming they are decomposed on-site at all instead of being blown or washed away.
The spewing of shredded plant gunk is something that certainly has unique impacts on the plant life. I have particularly noticed that grass clippings get stuck to leaves of nearby plants (often causing them to rot) or even pierce through leaves, injuring or killing the leaf. The death of a single leaf on a single plant is tiny, but tiny stresses like these can determine which plants are capable of thriving in an environment and which die out. A plant might happen to respond badly to frequent micro-injuries.
Here's an interesting fact: There is a highly endangered plant found in Kentucky called running buffalo-clover. Why do you think it is called that?
The running part means it forms long, vine-like stems that sprawl out and run along the ground, growing new roots along their length.
The buffalo part refers to the plant's association with bison. When bison trample on it, they chop the running stems with their sharp hooves. Since the stems are rooted into the ground, they can live on their own without being linked to the main plant, and in this way, the bison are chopping the plants up into more plants!
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metalbuckaroo · 5 months
Text
The Chase
Summary// "we had a deal, my dove. You promised."
AU// WinterSoldier!Bucky x F!Reader
Warnings// chasing kink, unprotected sex, smut, a yank to the hair, cursing, use of petnames- dove, dovey
Note// I think I'm a little rusty, but I'm also beyond tired rn so it could also be that ehsudienaua. This is a part two to the Black Mail fic I did for kinktober many moons ago
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"Who is he?" He was everywhere. His gruff voice echoing through the trees, surrounding you as you frantically looked around. Trying to find a way out of this situation. "I don't share, dove."
He was right behind you, your legs working before your mind to carry you in the opposite direction. Lungs burning from the cold night air as his dark chuckle faded in the distance.
But, he was quick and quiet. Moving just as fast as you could look over your shoulder before slamming into what could only be described as a wall of pure muscle, sending you falling back onto the leaf covered ground.
"Please- James, please. I'm sorry." You pleaded, tears stinging your eyes as he stood over you. The same mask Hydra forced him to wear covering the lower portion of his face.
He kneeled down, denim blues dark with something you couldn't place. "I won't ask again. Who. Is. He."
"Your way out! Please, just let me go. I still have a week!" The metal of his left hand gleamed in the moonlight as he reached his hand out to grasp your chin. Pupils blown and touch gentle.
"I'll give you a headstart. You have three minutes, dovey." You just stared at him wide eyed, chest heaving and heart hammering against your ribcage. "Run."
As if on instinct, you scrambled to your feet, trying to find your footing to dart back into the darkness the trees provided.
You knew you couldn't go much longer, your aching muscles sending pains through your legs each time your feet would hit the ground. There was no use in running anyways, he'd always win.
"We had a deal, my dove. You promised." You swore you could hear the grit of his teeth when you'd stopped, so close to giving in as you leaned your forehead against the rough bark of a nearby tree. Fingers curving against the wood. "You're just like them."
"No, I'm not." You heaved, trying to take a moment to catch your breath.
"I saw you with him at that diner. You're suppose to be mine."
His voice was getting closer, making you bite down on the inside of your cheeks to take some of the attention away from the burning in your legs before taking off again.
Though, you didn't make it far before fingers curled in the back of your hair. Crying out when he barely yanked to make you stop.
"I was doing what I was told. You want out, I have to find someone who can do that." You tried to reason, words not coming easy from the way he had your head craned back. His warm right arm snaking around your waist to pull you against him.
"Lies." He seethed, calloused fingers slipping under your shirt. "I've dreamt of you. Craved you. Now I finally have you again. I've been so cold without you my sweet dove."
Your body gave in the moment nimble fingers flicked the button of your pants open.
There was something twisted inside of you that liked the chase, the constant looming feeling you'd had over the weeks since you'd last seen him- like he was just lying in wait for the right moment.
It was hard to think of much else than the last time you'd saw him. The drag of his fingers against your skin, the way his lips seared kisses to your throat- much like now, cold and warm hands dragging against your sides as your fingers worked at the tactical belt that kept you from what you were truly after.
The ground freezing against your bare back not slowing you from getting what you craved.
It seemed to take ages for James to notice your struggle, his hands replacing your own to easily pull open the buckle as yours went to unclip the mask. Carelessly tossing it into the leaves to pull his lips to yours.
The hunger behind his kiss fueled you, your fingers weaving through his long locks and legs going around his waist to pull him closer. Swallowing breaths and quiet grunts as his hand fumbled to grasp his shaft.
The shudder that rolled through your body as he pressed into you was enough to send your mind reeling, everything else around you fading away and your senses overwhelmed by only him as he found his pace. Short, hard thrusts rocking your body- sending shocks of pure pleasure shooting down your legs.
You'd missed how full he made you feel. An emptiness left behind in his absence, his touch electric as he groped at your chest and left sloppy kisses along your throat. Deep moans vibrating against the skin, mixing with your whines in the cold night air.
"Can feel you milking me, dovey. Make a mess, show me who I belong to." James panted, drinking in the pleasure drunk scrunch of your face as your legs tightened around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer.
Wedging his arm under you for a better angle, he didn't change his pace. Taking the opportunity to slot his lips over yours when you cried out in bliss, swallowing the sultry sound as your cunt clamped around him. His hips jerked forward at the feeling, the swirling sensation at his base building until he couldn't take it anymore- spilling into you with a huffed grunt.
The warmth of his body was quickly replaced with the night air, goosebumps prickling your skin as you whined in response. The dull ring in your ears making it hard to focus as you found your jeans to redress.
"One more week, dove. Better hurry."
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eldritch-spouse · 2 months
Note
You are running naked in the Jungle, searching frantically.
You look and you see another human, the first one you've seen in months and you run towards them.
“Thank God! Listen, we need to get out of here immediately, it's dangerous! Do you know the way out? Back to civilization?”
You feel a tentacle around your ankles
[Months? Couldn't be me, I'd just die. Let's downsize that to a week. Fem reader.]
TW: Reader has a self-loathing inner monologue; Reader is in a bad place mentally; Dubcon to full consent.
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It was a stupid idea.
You knew that when you started it. So did everyone that tried to convince you otherwise. But common sense isn't something that could have stopped someone like you, someone who was ill enough to think taking a break from life in the middle of buttfuck nowhere would work out.
You didn't even have any sort of experience in this type of thing. Neither did you seek any kind of useful tips.
You just wanted to escape.
And you did, literally, into a forested nightmare that you got lost in not even hours after your arrival.
You just wish you could find your car, you just wish you could find somewhere warm and comforting to sleep in.
It's been days. Probably a week by now. Your stuff all disappeared, somehow. You swear you're not tripping, it all just vanished! Your phone, your bag, your keys...
Your back hurts, the nights are cold and humid and you're sure you're getting sick by now. Clean water would be a godsend, you've been drinking and cleaning yourself with some questionable-looking sources for a while. Not to mention you can't feed yourself properly, and you certainly don't know how to hunt.
Not that there's much to hunt. Every time you think you hear a peep, there's a brush of foliage and silence dominates seconds later.
You're going to die.
A horrifying reminder that has your chest pounding painfully and sweat glistening on your forehead.
You don't want to die.
But the modern human wasn't born for the wilderness, and you can only stand being clothed for a little longer before the sensation of being dirty has you clawing the skin off your body.
It was a fucking miracle that you managed to get a small fire going.
Finally.
You can heat up that fish you caught earlier.
If it's still good. Is... This is safe to eat, right?
You lean to sniff at the leaf-wrapped catch.
Eh. You can stomach it...
God, you're starving.
One thing that's been bugging you for a while is how... Deserted this whole place feels.
You're no wildlife expert, but isn't this kind of location supposed to be brimming with animals? Why is it that, everywhere you go, it's mostly just you and insects bumbling around?
Shouldn't there be some mammals here? Some birds? Maybe a squirrel or a snake... Aren't there predators you'd have to worry about in this kind of scenario?
Ironically, being alone makes you feel even more stressed out than if you were constantly surrounded by wild animals.
You huddle closer to the small fire.
Alone.
But always so on edge.
Always getting that tingling feeling crawling up your spine.
The one that screams- Look, look behind you! You're in danger!
The phantom feeling of something hovering behind your neck, goosebumps that hardly fade every time you do turn around to check and find nothing.
Is this a normal amount of paranoia for your situation? Is this your brain trying to cope with the fact that you haven't seen much wildlife so far?
Or is there something watching you from beyond the trees?
Something stalking.
A persistence predator, coming and going, to check on its latest prey.
Oh, and what a catch you are. Big and juicy compared to the things that probably roam this place -Roamed, more like...
Have you wandered into the territory of something that'll inevitably snap its jaws around your neck?
...
Just eat the fucking fish already.
Food.
Focus on the present.
The smell starts to hit your nose. Salt, oh what you wouldn't do for some simple salt. How do people get salt?
You're glad you got some berries along the way too, because this fish is probably going to taste like ass. You're sure they aren't poisonous or anything of the sort. If they are, then you've been eating them for the past few days so honestly you could keel over at any moment.
You'll see.
Once the fish has roasted enough where it's likely safe to consume, you peel it open messily and start munching indiscriminately, ravenous.
It's... Well, it's sustenance.
It's about the most nutritious thing you've eaten since you got here.
This survival thing is harder than the fake actors on TV make it seem.
A sudden crack of a branch has you pausing mid-chew.
You truly feel like a deer when your head snaps up and you stand very still to listen for a follow-up.
Nothing.
Tired eyes strain, trying to make sense of a darkened blob in the distance.
Huh.
What the fuck is that thing?
Tall.
Two legs...
Arms?!
Shit- Could it be?!
That can't be possible, someone else roaming around this maddening forest. Is that a sign that you're somehow getting closer to civilization? That you're making it out by sheer luck? What cosmic force could be on your side this time? Maybe they just live here, like some kind of off-grid retired agent- Okay, you've been watching too many movies.
Without stopping to think twice about frankly important concerns regarding this sudden development, you place the cooked fish down on the leaf it was previously wrapped in and start scooting forward towards the silhouette you saw.
That build can only belong to a man. Well, you assume as much anyway. It's hard to spot more from here, with the foliage covering their form.
" H- Hey... "
You haven't used your voice in a hot minute. Some part of you almost doesn't recognize it. A healthy dose of paranoia stops you from brushing aside the obstacles and facing this person.
But you need to at least try, right?
The worst that can happen is that you really are hallucinating for some reason or another.
With a surge of bravery, but mostly desperation, you push all the branches and greenery away to run towards this person, opening your mouth to greet them, to beg for help, ask for new clothes or just something cooked!
" Hey! Please, I need your... Help? "
Nothing.
There's no one.
But that doesn't make sense, you clearly saw a silhouette, someone was there! You didn't even have to run that far, how could it be that you already lost sight of them? That they could get away so silently?
No. Everything's wrong.
Before you know it, your vision is blurring and your face heats as tears stain your cheeks.
Why... Why would your mind fuck with you like this? Going from a shining shred of hope to complete despair in seconds has you screaming inside.
Why is this happening to you?
Are you really about to die in a stupid fucking patch of nothing just because you can't deal with the stress in your life like a normal person? Just because you made one bad decision when everything was weighing heavy on your conscience? Are you really so incompetent and so pointless as a human that this is how your story ends?
Anger and regret blind you to everything, fingers course through your knotted hair as you sob and tug, having no way to calm yourself and nothing to unleash your tension onto.
The moment you try to stomp your foot in a petulant act, you find it rooted to the ground. It takes a couple more insistent tugs upward for you to realize that something is coiled around it, keeping it firmly planted.
The train wreck of emotions and bile of self-hating thoughts takes a backseat, goosebumps pricking your skin from tip of the head to your very toes. The first thing you think of is some kind of snake, eyes bulging behind digits.
You look down frantically, shaking, but in spite of the sky being clear, all you see is this reddish mass, with neither end nor beginning. What... What the fuck is it?!
The thing tightens around your ankle, starting to slide up the length of your right leg, up to your knee. And immediately, you panic, kicking and shrieking, achieving absolutely nothing and getting promptly tugged to the ground.
Yeah.
Maybe freaking out isn't the best bet for your survival here.
Twigs and dirt get on your face, it takes some coughing and swiping to finally clear your field of view. But honestly...
You almost wish you hadn't.
Curved over your prone figure, staring down, is a creature you have never seen before.
Bipedal and quite large, like the silhouette you had glimpsed before, but so very far from human. The reddish coloration spanning the length of that bizarre body makes him -Because, again, you can only assume that is a male- Look as if he's made of flesh quickly molded together to imitate the figure of a human. What initially made you think he was skinless soon turns into the realization that there was never room for skin anyway.
Because his body is quite literally comprised of what you can only call tentacles. Tendrils and coiling tissue that clings and organizes itself in the vague lie of an organism like yours.
From elbows to fingers and knees to feet, the tendrils become a lot more discernable, coiling and uncoiling while he watches curiously. The thing around your leg is one of said tendrils, coming from the mass forming his own. Along the length of its torso, sharp-toothed mouths form and shift, almost seeming to have a mind of their own as they scent the air and snap at nothing.
That head has got to be the most striking feature. It's an amalgamation of tentacles all wrapped around each other, leaving room for an incredibly sharp golden eye to fix you in place. This thing looks like it crawled out of a sleeping ocean, like the roots and vines of an ancient jungle came together to form a totally new an extension of themselves. He looks like he's been sculped from the guts of others yet also composed in a way your mind could never hope to grasp.
Somewhere between trying to determine if you're dealing with an animal or a person, you reach the conclusion that an animal wouldn't stare you down for this long.
An animal would take a couple of seconds to determine if you're prey or predator and act accordingly. He would have snapped your neck or suffocated you like a boa constrictor with those tentacles by now.
And yet, he just stares.
Like you're the strangest creature to ever grace the woods this thing probably calls a home. You're as freaky to him as he is to you, enough so that he seems out of depth on how to proceed.
You stare back.
This has got to be the monster that you saw back there. Watching you. Now that you think about it, maybe this was the reason you'd always have a tingling sensation reminding you that you're not alone. Because he was there all that time, stalking.
Plenty were the moments he could have dug your grave until now. It's strange that he hasn't. Because surely, he's seen how you're failing to adapt to this location. Every step you take, you're stumbling and getting pricked, hungry, thirsty, afraid, disoriented- You're a fish out of water and he could have ended that misery a long time ago.
Odd.
Neither of you move. It blinks, vertically. You blink too.
And then, it makes this chitter.
Wet, like a gargle, followed by some kind of rumbling as more of those tendrils that form his limbs unwind, explore.
They reach down towards your frame when he squats, and you stifle the urge to scream at the sight of them getting nearer. Because who knows what he's going to do...
They poke and prod, grabbing lightly at parts of you, wet yet not quite. Two coil around your arms, then elbows, then wrists.
Other strays squirm around your sides, unintentionally triggering a squirming reflex as you muffle helpless laughter.
The monster seems intrigued by the noise anyway, making his own vocalizations as if attempting to communicate with you.
Abruptly, there's a blur of movement and you're yanked into the air by the arms, shrieking in fear and pain.
Not for long, because more of his freaky, flowing appendages wind around your middlesection, hips and knees, pulling in different directions.
In seconds, mere moments, this being has you suspended in the air.
Immediately, your panicked mind is going places where it absolutely shouldn't.
He seems more relaxed now that you're restrained, that gaze becomes softer, clouded with curiosity. To be monitoring you this long, you don't doubt he has his own questions and intrigue regarding how you work.
When that hulking red mass walks towards you, anxiety prevents your mouth from staying shut.
" H- Hi? "
A sound not too different from the peep of a skittish bird.
One that causes him to cock his head in a brief pause, processing the noise, and returning it with his own light gurgle. One of the mouths on his figure gets the pitch right down to a T.
Soon, he's lacing a hand through your hair, grabbing it, manipulating the protrusion and stroking your head inquisitively. He squeezes and almost scritches at your scalp, reminding you of the way someone acts when spotting a particularly cute cat. Yes, hair is likely a mystery to this creature, you can kind of understand why it'd linger here.
But that doesn't change the fact that you're being patted like a pet by a strange, unknowable creature- And that's morbidly hilarious.
When your cheeks start to puff with laughter, his attention finally deviates. You can feel the tendrils that form every digit when he splays them across your face, tracing your eyebrows, playing with the tip of your nose and even trying to poke into your ears- Something he halts when you jerk away rapidly each time.
When he starts trying to put a digit in your mouth, he's a lot more careful, aware that you have teeth and can bite, even if yours are quite small and blunt compared to the ones he sports. He succeeds, because your strength is nothing compared to that of a monster of his size and nature. The digit he dips into your mouth rests there placidly for a couple of moments.
You aren't sure what to do. Biting is not a bright idea when you know this creature can probably easily dismember you in this position. He himself looks slightly lost, as if he put his finger in your mouth out of impulse mostly. A false sense of security begets your own curiosity.
Perhaps you're just insane already -That probably says a lot about your overall mental fortitude- But seeing another living being that behaves and looks vaguely like what you might call a person makes you feel calmer than you have since the beginning of all this. You know it's an irrational feeling, that you're not any safer than before, but it's a thread of comfort you desperately cling to.
And it's what allows you to look this thing in the eye while you experimentally lick his bizarre tendril-clump of a finger.
It was only a little flick.
But naturally, he felt it.
The monster rumbles something incomprehensible at you, leaning closer still to cast a shadow upon your front. In this position, he looms between your clothed legs, though seems mostly unaware of the lurid position he's got you in, fixated on your mouth.
The sensation of his digit unfolding into two separate thin tentacles is bizarre. You picture a human finger splitting in two and curse your brain. Said tentacles poke and wriggle, capturing your tongue between themselves.
Yes, that's probably the part of your body that most closely resembles the mass of prehensile tissue composing his own.
The touch has you drooling, saliva trying to break down something probably few to no humans have ever come in contact with. He tastes slimy yet slightly rugged in some areas, not something you'd write home about.
Reflex has your poor muscle squirming to be freed, but that only causes him to tighten the grasp upon it. And, surprisingly, to let out this humid noise that sounds far too much like a groan of delight for you to interpret it as anything else.
There's a pause from your part as you wonder, incredulously, if this thing just got turned on.
There's not much time to ponder, because that digit very quickly slips out, and as he examines the sheen of drool on it, something else steadily approaches your mouth.
Ah, you've graduated from finger to proper tentacle mouthfucking. Commendable.
Making light of the situation is about the least recommended course of action, but after what you've endured so far, you think you deserve to be a little, tiny bit, insane.
Apparently convinced that you won't try to harm him, the crimson monster wiggles that darkened appendage and taps it against your lips, seeming very interested in how this is unfolding.
You should not have opened your mouth.
But you did.
And he visibly brightened up.
The tendril wedges itself in without much hesitation, resting upon your tongue. Much thicker than his digit, your jaw has no choice but to stretch, and your lips wrap around it in a rather phallic, dirty image. You barely realize you're making an effort not to scrape your teeth on the appendage. Perhaps because the sensation of it is a tad spongy and remarkably similar to that of any standard manhood.
And, as if to give reason to your lewd comparison, he shudders at the warmth of your wet mouth, the thing pulsing within you.
While he mostly simply lets the extremity sit there motionlessly, you do explore, trying to lick around it out of morbid curiosity. He watches you avidly, but apparently, what really gets to this bizarre entity is feeling you suck down the saliva that pools in your cheeks, swallowing.
Suction. Because of course he'd enjoy that. What man doesn't?
That begs the question, is the thing in your mouth part of his genitals?
Again, thinking is a privilege you can't afford when that tentacle starts sliding down your throat experimentally. It doesn't take him long to trigger your gag reflex, a violent kick and curve forward from your part causing him to pull back quickly. But he continues to test the waters afterwards, probably seeking the sensation of your stressed throat muscles tightening around him.
Instinct takes over.
Because even if he seems truly out of his depth maneuvering a human body, he's curious and, if you had to guess, attracted to you. Enough to put sensitive things in your mouth, to fetishize that part of you. Hormones make things work, which means he soon realizes he can make repetitive back and forth motions to get friction.
And so, just like that, you're getting fucked in the mouth, inside the woods, by an eldritch abomination of a monster you might find in a cheaply made H. P Lovecraft rip-off.
It should not arouse you.
It should horrify you.
... But it doesn't.
Those reactions are missing, leaving you befuddled at your own enjoyment of the situation. Are you just happy to have someone around? Has it truly been so long since you received this type of attention that you don't mind if it comes from an entity of unknown origin who is clearly not civilized? Are you just a freak actively discovering new sides of your sexuality?
Who knows anymore.
All you know is that there's a wet noise ringing every time he thrusts that slimy thing into your mouth, that he's resorted to gripping your hips hard while making intense eye contact, that he growls and gurgles whenever you have enough control to suck at him. If you had to guess, it's his unwavering, lewd and fascinated observation of your face and lips that has you likely forming a wet spot on your poor pants.
You think your wanton squirming is subtle, but reality proves otherwise when the monster starts getting distracted, one of those pupils shifting to the rhythmic movement of your legs as you shamelessly seek friction. At first, he seems irritated, as if questioning why you'd want to leave when you'd been so docile so far.
Then it appears to click.
You can almost see it in his face, in spite of how inhuman it is, that eureka moment.
And the tendril in your mouth slows down to a crawl.
He starts pawing and pulling at your pants, but not aimlessly. Not at all. He's studied you, he knows what he's looking for, the button and the zipper. You pale a few shades, the only way this thing could know how to take pants off is if it saw you doing it, if it saw you relieving yourself or trying to bathe to avoid infections.
Just how many embarrassing moments did he catch?
Too many, probably.
Still, you're pleasantly surprised to see him so easily remove the garment, fluidly shifting the positions of his tendrils to avoid tangling the fabric in them. Your pants come off without a single blemish, aside from those they sustained previously. Is he removing them so carefully because he thinks you need them to survive or is he just being considerate?
Your underwear is treated the same way, he spares no extra thought to it, and only appears to pause once your pussy is exposed.
Usually, you'd feel self-conscious in this position. There's not a lot you can do to properly groom yourself without the simple privilege of soap and whatnot... But what does it matter here? As far as you know, for this monster, pussy is pussy regardless of it being shaved or bush-heavy, "perfumed" or au naturel.
And a soaked, needy hole is hard for a lonesome monster to ignore.
He looms closer to your womanhood, watching closely, gargling a string of vocalizations you still can't interpret, until another tentacle slithers into scene and slaps against your cunt.
No, literally.
The thing whips from mound to the bottom of your entrance, swiping up and down in a pace that has you seeing stars every time it flicks your clitoris and catches on a clenching entrance. To say your legs kick out occasionally from the intensity of the stimulus is no exaggeration, but he's quick to adapt his hold so you have no way of wiggling aside.
You don't know why it's doing that, but frankly, you don't care much, it just feels good. A racing heart and a heaving chest have you tipping your head back to moan against the thing stuffed in your mouth. You realize, a little belatedly, that he was probably mostly just trying to lube that appendage with your own arousal.
Your plump pussy still tingles when the assault stops on all sides, you strain to watch what he's doing, observing the monster evaluate the sheen now coating that wriggling extremity.
He's less careful than before now, a product of excitement no doubt, parking the somewhat thicker length at your entrance and pushing in tentatively for only a couple of moments before ramming a decent chunk of that tendril into your cunt.
Eyes bulging, you spit out a beastial sound that startles the monster, panting as you try to get used to the sudden stretch. He's reached a depth within you no one else has found before, and the pressure is such so that you've been robbed of the ability to speak.
He shouldn't be that far in you.
You may come from extremely distinct backgrounds, but some things are vastly universal, like the facial expression of pain. Which, credit where credit is due, he picks up on relatively fast. The moment the entity removes a good chunk of its length, you sigh and sag in momentous relief. That's a lot better. You still feel as if you're being stuffed to the brim, but there's no longer that stabbing pain.
He understands what he did wrong after a couple of still moments and some bizarre palping sensation from your insides.
Much like the previous tendril in your mouth, this one too starts to thrust back and forth, with more care now, experimenting with differing speeds and curling in various ways as he gets closer and closer to watch how you react.
You're no researcher, but maybe if the mounting pleasure wasn't swimming to your head and making it very very hard to think coherently right now, you'd be fascinated with the way this monster is being so thorough in his examination of you, wanting to learn what makes you tick in every way, what has you choking out noises and rolling your eyes.
So intense is the heat rushing through your body from his repeated, filthy motions that you hardly notice anything happening until his all-seeing eye is almost glued to your face. The tips of the tentacles that make up his rather disturbing head unfurl and appear to drip downwards, clinging to the sides of your face so he can fix it in place, observe every detail as soon as you part your mouth to moan and gasp and babble nonsense. Each noise you make is eagerly eaten up, he tries to mimic the same motions that make you squeal as if begging for more of them.
There's no time to warn or even shriek about it, your orgasm barrels its way down your body with the intensity of a bullet, curving you in its tentacles, a breathless "oh" being all you can offer as your abdominal muscles contract and you squeeze the life out of the tendril inside you, making a mess that drips to the ground between you two.
It may not have been easy to spot in that pleasured trance, but the monster halted to watch it all unfold, mesmerized. Retracting to test the nature of the new slick now grossly painting you.
By the time you're done riding the high of your climax, you've been shifted again, this time a little lower, and you find the entity staring down to the spot where your core meets something that wasn't there before.
You'll admit you didn't have the time to properly process the full extent of his appearance when he first appeared before your stunned self. Now you're unsure if this monster had some kind of pelvic pouch, or if he merely unfolded two more tendrils out of his mass where one would expect a dick to be.
The two appendages wriggle and roll impatiently, seeking each other before parting in search of heat, of wetness, slapping against your belly and thighs. They may not look like it, but you can only guess those are his cocks. And he's considering something quietly.
It's hard to tell what he's thinking right now, the communication barrier doesn't help. Maybe he worries that the length of them will hurt you. Perhaps he wonders if he can impregnate you this way. It could just be that he thinks perhaps mating with a strange human is not a good idea, but the way those things are spreading a coat of thick precum on your skin says otherwise.
Instead of letting his stall further, a small hand reaches down to feather over the tip of one of those members, immediately getting captured and pulled at in the process. His figure rattles, hips offering a useless piston before his head snaps back up to watch you.
" ... Try putting one in. "
You murmur, knowing damn well it can't understand a single word.
He looks back down, peels back to spread your cuntlips invitingly, then seems to make up his mind, allowing the very tips of both squirming cocks to connect with your entrance. They've found warmth and they're desperate to worm in, stretching and flirting with your walls.
You grin incredulously, already trying to guess what it'll feel like, gasping as soon as he leans forward and allows more exploration. The first hint of a burn arrives as he rumbles in delight-
But a branch snaps in the distance.
And the moment is ruined because he halts immediately, your cry of frustration ignored entirely.
His body twists in an unnatural way so he can glance behind, inhuman eye seeing through greenery and undoubtedly spotting something off.
In the tense quiet that has now settled, even you pick up on the faraway mumbles of what must be people.
Eyes widening, snapping out of this episode, you begin to squirm earnestly now, wanting to see them, to find a way back, to go home!
Finally, people came looking for you!
The monster snaps back around, making you realize how truly fucked you are in these circumstances. Something flashes in that gaze, a hint of contempt, of hurt maybe.
Something too human to fall upon such a nightmarish face.
You can only scream as more tendrils dart in lightening speeds to cocoon you inside them. That single noise being all that escapes before you're forcibly gagged and physically thrown over the monster's shoulder.
His molding body swings from tree to tree in a blur of movement, taking you God knows where...
And leaving your saviors in the dust.
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st4rtar0t · 1 month
Text
Details about your future partner
physical appearance, astrological details and more
In this pick a picture we will get to know some information about your future partner, this can even be your future spouse or somebody you will have a long term relationship with. I know you are really curious about them so why not read this and like and share if you feel that this reading has resonated with you?
Pick a picture from below
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DM for personal readings.
Picture one
Some of you may already know this person. I see that you know this person from a work setting. They are really hardworking and they put their best in everything they do. They are a master at their craft. I also see that they have had their heart broken in the past and they no longer want to take any risks. This person is really attractive and a lot of people have their eyes on them. They know how to have deep conversations and I also see that they hate small talk. They are always energetic and have a youthful smile. However they have a sense of mystery around them. It's like they are always Hiding a part of them from others. They are family oriented and they will always put their family before anyone else. I also see that they are just your type. They are really protective of the people they love and they will do everything in their power to help others around them. You may Meet this person through social media or through an online platform. I see that you guys will be talking a lot to each other. For some of you, this person is already stalking you and you can feel it. The only reason why this person isn't approaching you is because of their past relationship. This person is really attracted to you and they want to have long term relationship. They only date to marry.
Physical attributes: dark/tanned skin, buzz cut, brunette, ginger hair, puppy face, golden retriever energy, sharp jawline, narrow eyes, thick eye lashes, blue/brown eyes, wide nose.
Key words: childish, eyes on you, watching, spiritual union, lust, lesson, co-worker, short trip, water body, fox, R,A,T,M,O. Explorer, possessive, lots of love, overflowing love.
Astrological details: Virgo rising, Taurus moon, Mars in Aries, Venus in 2nd house, Gemini Mercury, Neptune in 12th house.
Picture two
They are definitely spiritual and if not spiritual then they are definitely interested in being a better person every day. I also see that they have deep understanding of human heart and are quite empathetic. But that doesn't mean they'll carry the burden of others. I see that they like the freedom they have. It seems as if you already know this person or you will be getting to know them soon, sooner than you think. You first conversation may start as an argument or you may not like them at first, its giving enemies to lover vibes. You or they can be an introvert or One of you may not talk much. Some of you may have a fake account that you use to stalk people and they know about it? Or they may collect information about you before talking to you. I am getting a little to no information about them its like the universe does not want you to know about them, it may be a surprise.
Physical attributes : straight nose, beautiful side profile, big or unique ears, full lips, mole under eyes, sharp teeth, dark hair, blond hair or some, fit body.
Key words : bold choice of clothing, snap chat, sunglasses, 11, hot headed, red, T, V, X, May, October, November, pet dogs, younger sibling, gardening, leaf, watermelon.
Astrological details : Scorpio sun, Uranus in Pisces, Virgo moon, Venus in earth sign, Jupiter in 1st, mars in 4th, Libra moon, Pluto dominant,
Picture Three
( Some of you may also be attracted to picture 2)
They're kind of replaying old memories in their head at this moment. They have a tendency to always think about what could've been instead of living in the moment. Sometimes they're just not feeling it, like they're out of sync with everything around them. They feel as if the world is moving but they are frozen. but they are okay with it as long as are helping out and sharing what they've got. Their sense of accomplishment may come from helping other both financially and mentally. They're all about hard work, always grinding and putting in the work to make things happen. They don't like drama and competition, if they feel like you are competing against them they will just let you win. They'd rather keep things peaceful and drama-free. When it comes to love, they're total romantics, just going with the flow and following their heart. They may be a hopeless romantic. They have immense live for their work and they do for a living. They're always honing their skills and perfecting their craft, putting in the effort to be the best at what they do. And at the end of the day, they're someone who feels pretty good about what they've achieved, just living their best life and enjoying every moment. They are grateful for everything that comes their way. No matter blessings or blessing disguised as disasters. Just soaking it all in and feeling grateful for where they're at.
Physical attributes : coloured hair, red hair, tattoos, veiny hands, curly hair, big eyes, sharp jawline, locks, big hands, may wear boots most of the time.
Key words : Horse, 9, 24, 15, pink, water body, red velvet, Venessa, butterflies, absent father figure, garland, gold, nose ring. April, August, June.
Astrological details : Libra descendent, Uranus in 5th, mercury in 10th, Venus in 4th, Taurus Venus, South node in Virgo, Jupiter in libra, cancer rising,
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kquil · 1 year
Text
SIRIUS BLACK | HIS FUTURE WIFE
request : Hi, this is my first time requesting so I don't really know how 😅, but can you write something with Sirius being in love with reader and basically just like jily type of love where he always follows her and calls his future wife — @moonlightwonderland
length : 1.1k
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“There’s my girl,” Sirius grins, walking up to you with his arms open as if he was expecting a hug. 
“I’m not your girl, Sirius,” you huff, clutching your books closer to your chest and side stepping, avoiding his arms entirely. It’s been a year since Sirius Black has decided to pursue only you and abandoned his playboy persona. Now he was a committed man. His entire focus has zeroed in on you and you hate it. You hardly used to draw any attention but now, most of the female population at Hogwarts was glaring you down. It’s not your fault Sirius Black decided to turn over a new leaf and made you his primary objective; these girls need to stop making it seem like you forced Sirius to take amortentia. 
But, from the circumstances, you might as well have given him the love potion. He follows you around and does whatever he can to get your attention, even if he makes a fool of himself. He goes out of his way to buy and give you your favourite treats from Honeydukes and helpfully does your bidding wherever, whenever. It would have been a nice gesture when he brought down books from higher shelves for you that one time…if only he didn’t immediately demand a kiss as ‘thanks’ right after. He deserved being hit upside the head for that.   
You just want to be left alone so you wouldn’t have to worry about constantly being stared at by envious girls or gossiping teens who had nothing better to do with their time. 
“My future wife then,” Sirius’s boyish grin grows wider the instant you roll your eyes at him and stomp away, figuring a different route for your journey to class would help you avoid the rebellious teen. But Sirius is unrelenting, following after you with a skip in his step. 
“Stop following me, Sirius,” you groaned and quickened your pace but it was no use. His persistence is challenging and you eventually succumb to his irritable company. 
“But I don’t want to, wifey,” he protests. 
“Don’t call me that, and it doesn’t matter; I want you to leave me alone,‘ you counter. 
“No,”
“Yes,”
“No!”
“Yes!”
Your bickering is commonplace in the hallways and within classes now, although it’s more a legitimate argument for you and Sirius is just playing along. It truly was a mystery to everyone why the Sirius Black, notorious fuckboy and ladies man was suddenly abandoning all that for one girl. Only he knew the real reason. And it was frustrating, especially to you. He can’t just change everything about his mannerisms and force all that attention on you, his good looks, fun personality and enchanting eyes could only absolve him so much. You’d rather be dead before you ever confess that to him, though, it’ll only worsen your situation. 
You did have one saving grace, however. When classes were over, you could find peace and quiet down by the black lake, teetering on the borders of the forbidden forest. This was where you had met your year-long dearest friend, Snuffles. Injured and quivering from the cold, you nursed him back to health a year ago, abandoning your classes for the day so that you could make sure he got better. You knew that dogs weren’t allowed at Hogwarts so you didn’t want to risk anything by taking him to madam Pomfrey. Thankfully, his injuries weren’t too bad at the time and he just needed some company to care for him lovingly. 
“Hello handsome,” you smile upon seeing the familiar black dog through the trees of the forest. As soon as he makes eye contact with you, he bounds over with enthusiastic barks and happy tail wags, “I’m happy to see you too boy!” kneeling down, you hug him around his neck and press kisses into his soft fur, “How are we today, hm?” as if he could understand you, Snuffles barks and sits before laying down to rest his head in your lap. 
Cooing at the large beast, you begin your usual pets as you delve into how your day was going, making small jokes and giving the occasional complaint over workload and stress build up. Snuffles gives a gentle whine as he paws at your thigh as if distressed over your worries and you smile warmly. He seems so human, someone that really cares about you and your wellbeing, it was nice to have. 
“Thank you for worrying about me Snuffles,” you muse softly, “but I’m really okay…so long as Sirius Black stays the hell away from me,” you huff in annoyance. It’s only natural that the conversation directs itself to the man in question as he’s made himself a prominent part of your days for the last year, “ugh! He’s so infuriating,” you frown down at the black dog still resting in your lap, “he won’t leave me alone no matter how much I tell him to. He’s been doing it for a year now and I don’t know what’s gotten into him. Today, he actually called me his future wife! What’s that about?!” you groan and push your head back. 
The sky is a pretty blue and you stare at it for a while before you continue, looking down when you feel a significant shift in Snuffles’s postion. The large black dog sits up and leans over to prop his head up on your shoulder and press his muzzle into your neck. He finds a sensitive spot and elicits a dulcet giggle from you, “if only he was as sweet and gentle as you, Snuffles,” you sigh, a small heat climbing up your neck and settling into your cheeks, “maybe then he could finally get me, just like he wants,” Snuffles pulls away and huffs, his version of a subtle sneeze. 
“Excuse you,” you tease, reaching up to scratch at the fur on his neck before you cup his face and bring his nose close so you could boop it with your own. 
“It’s a real shame, though,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around Snuffles’s neck once more and tucking your face into his fur, “his looks are exactly my type…”  Snuffles stiffens under your embrace but you don’t notice, “and he has some good personality traits too…if only he wasn’t so irritating,” there was a stutter in Snuffles’s movement when you lean back and pet his head softly, “you know, he started acting strange like this after I met you, Snuffles…I-” it was just a passing thought but there was a sudden realisation that slowly consumes your features, reflecting primarily in your eyes. It doesn’t help that the large dog before you slowly morphs into the man you were just complaining about. 
“Clever girl,” Sirius grins as he takes your chin in his fingers and pulls you in close, his breath ticking your lips as he continues to whisper, “I expect nothing less from my future wife,”
When he kisses you, sweet but amorously, you kiss back.
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a/n : my first request! lets go! i hope i did it justice darling, and i hope everybody enjoyed the read!
navi. | more oneshots
taglist : @melinajenkins @astonishment @until-i-found-you @goodoldfashionedluvergirl @tiensmamains @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @rosaleenablack
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sonder-paradise · 1 year
Text
𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦 — 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐭
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◊ ft. xiao, venti, kazuha, wanderer, gn!reader
◊ genre. fluff, reader teasing anemo fools
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— 𝐗𝐢𝐚𝐨
he watches you carefully from the cooling shade of the tree above. whatever you're currently off doing, it seems to be entertaining you much more than usual. but there's something entirely charming about the way you find such joy in the timid moments teyvat gives you.
the gentle breeze sways past the two of you bringing in the salty scents of the nearby port and the mountainous ranges just beyond. he closes his eyes just a moment, soaking in the sound of your bubbling laughter and the symphonic winds.
"xiao!"
his eyes flicker open and, in a moment, he's at your side. he seems rather alert for a second before he realizes there is a board smile dressed across your face.
"is something the matter?"
you shake your head; that odd, little grin neglects to fade from your features. he raises an eyebrow at your behavior.
"no, just wanted to see you. oh, here."
and suddenly your hand is reaching towards him and you're leaning in a little too close and his breath catches in the back of his throat and now he's debating whether or not he should lean in too and—
"you had a leaf in your hair."
xiao turns a brilliant shade of red as your hand pulls back and you reveal a little green leaf. he stumbles through a mismatched phrase before you stop him with that stupid grin.
"what? did you want something else instead?"
you can practically see the steam burst from his ears.
— 𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢
another night, another set of drinks for the anemo archon and his beloved. venti belts out a brilliant set of notes for just the two of you as you plop down beside him on the grassy hillside. the moonlight streaks down on you both through the stony fingers of the statue of seven.
"do you think master diluc will notice?" he mumbles aloud.
"notice what?"
"the wine we stole!"
you laugh, waving him off. "i left some mora on the counter, i'm certain he can put two and two together."
venti joins your laughter. then he strums the strings of his favored lyre. venti feels the buzz of alcohol hit the back of his throat and he's grateful for this brief moment of mundanity the two of you have been given.
"oh, venti."
he turns as you call him and it's at that moment he realizes just how close you've gotten to his face. his eyes briefly flicker down to your lips and the buzzed gaze in your eyes.
then you pull back, having grasped the bottle of wine behind him with a grin.
"another round?" you pause, noting the pink dusting his pale cheeks and the way he looks absolutely hypnotized with you."
"oh? did you think i was going to kiss you?"
venti seems to snap out of his trance and gives you an apparent pout. "of course! why else would you get so close?!"
"to get the wine?" you shake the bottle a little, raising an eyebrow at him.
"wah! then just ask me! now kiss me properly!"
— 𝐊𝐚𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐊𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐡𝐚
kazuha's grown a little tired of your constant teasing for today. perhaps you woke up a little too mischievous this morning, but he's not sure how much longer he can tolerate your behavior.
once: this morning while attempting to wake him up, he was certain he caught you trying to kiss him. and yet, he was surprised to hear that you were just brushing hair out of his eyes.
twice: early in the afternoon when you grasped his waist and looked at him from over his shoulder. he even unconsciously leaned in towards you, but instead you moved in to your right in order to pass.
and now three times: after lunch, having just watched you walk away after cupping the side of his face and leaning in, only to be met with you wiping crumbs off his face.
"kazuha, is something the matter?"
he stares at you before flashing you a smile you're certain is bound to be trouble.
"not at all, but would you like to explain your actions today?"
"what actions?"
"are you playing coy with me now, y/n?"
"whatever are you talking about?"
kazuha leans in, reaching to grasp your chin and adjusting it to match your eyes to his. his eyes flicker down to your lips and the butterflies in your stomach swarm almost violently.
then, he stops, pulling back with an overly-sweet smile.
"still don't know what i'm talking about?"
you swallow thickly, taking in the peeved expression in his eyes. whoopsies.
— 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐫 / 𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐞
he should be used to these types of long night chats. he wants to be used to the way your voice chimes about the challenges of the day or the pleasures of it. but he also finds it addicting all at the same time.
the light of the candles illuminate your face as he listens carefully to you. whatever you're talking about has to do with something he can no longer attempt to remember. but you haven't asked him any questions on his comprehension of the matter so he doesn't clarify anything.
instead he watches your lips. the way they look so kissable, so delectable, so... ah, what were you saying again?
scaramouche snaps out of his stupor upon hearing his name leave your tongue. but, even then he hopes his eyes weren't about to tell you what exactly he was paying attention to.
"what?" he spits out.
"nothing, you seem a little distracted."
"well, you're wrong. i'm just getting sleepy is all."
you chuckle, scooting just a couple inches over to him. "i think i understand what's going on."
your face grows nearer to his and he can feel his heart ready to beat out of his chest and his face turn redder by the second. his eyes flicker down to your lips once more and for just a moment, he has to snap those eyes down to prevent them from tattling on his intentions.
your lips just barely graze his own and by then his skin is bursting red. but, you stop and you grin at him.
"you want to kiss me, is that right?"
scaramouche's eyes light up in a strangling embarrassment, but instead of the words he's ought to say it comes out a sputtering mess of emotions and excuses.
"what!? no! of course not! you- i—" then he pauses, grasping onto your wrist, "stop saying stupid shit like that and just kiss me if you're gonna do it already, okay??"
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dawndelion-winery · 2 years
Text
"Would You Still Love Me"
"If I was a worm?"
Ft. Dottore, Kazuha, Xiao, Scaramouche
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Dottore:
"Of all the stupid things you could ask me..."
Stares judgementally at you, expecting you to revoke the question
Pinches the bridge if his nose and sighs when you don't
His scowl crumbles a little when you seem upset
"So you wouldn't love me if I suddenly turned into a worm."
Comes to the sudden realisation that if you're upset with him, you'll be less compliant...for science
C'mon, he's not gonna admit he's in it for the cuddles, not even in his head
Brings you a set of blueprints and a glass enclosure
"This is where you'd stay if you were a worm. I have three different design plans, so choose wisely because that's how your worm home will look for the rest of your life. You'll have a little worm car after four months if I haven't found a cure, however unlikely that is."
He will tell you all of his plans on what he'll do if you become a worm and you can't stop him because you started it
Your hypothetical worm situation is now fully prepared for, whether you like it or not
Wouldn't recommend because the diet he has planned for worm you doesn't look very appetising
Kazuha:
"You'd travel on my shoulder on in my pocket so I can share poetry with you."
Ruffles your hair and pinches your cheeks
If you swat him away he'll insist he was only checking if you were becoming a worm
Carries on like it was nothing after that
If you ask again he'll remind you that he'll love you regardless of what form you take
This does, unfortunately, spark some odd terms of endearment
You are now his "precious worm", "beloved wormy", "sweet wriggly", "fleshy straw", etc
They get progressively worse
But he swears it's all affectionate
"I'd love you if you became a leaf."
"That wasn't the question-"
"Every leaf has it's own tune when you play it like a flute, I wonder what yours would be."
Xiao:
Stares at you for a good while
"Why would you ever be a worm?"
You don't need to elaborate, because he'll eventually sigh and give in, intertwining his fingers with yours as he assures you he would
Still confused on why you'd be a worm though
But rest assured you would be the safest worm in the whole of Teyvat because nothing can touch you so long as Xiao is taking care of you
You're his little wormy, and he'll carry you in his palm when he's high up so you can have a nice view
Always worried he might misplace you or accidentally step on you
You've given him intrusive thoughts and now he's worried about a hypothetical that may never happen
Scaramouche:
"Would you love me if you were a worm though?"
"Scara what-"
"How do we know your worm brain has the capacity to comprehend that you're in a committed relationship with me? There's no telling whether you'll find some new worm lover who can give you that wormy connection I can't."
He's going off about how a worm couldn't possibly have any lingering feelings for a person
Mildly offended at the implication you might expect him to become a worm for you to live your worm lives together
"Me? A worm? How could you even entertain such a thought?"
You didn't, he drew his own conclusions and started overthinking
This is clearly your way of hinting that you don't feel loved enough to trust him (it's not, he is once again overthinking)
It has now been flipped on you to explain to him that you'd love him even if he became a worm because you'd adore him whether or not he loved you back
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headspace-hotel · 9 months
Text
There, in the sunlit forest on a high ridgeline, was a tree I had never seen before.
I spend a lot of time looking at trees. I know my beech, sourwood, tulip poplar, sassafras and shagbark hickory. Appalachian forests have such a diverse tree community that for those who grew up in or around the ancient mountains, forests in other places feel curiously simple and flat.
Oaks: red, white, black, bur, scarlet, post, overcup, pin, chestnut, willow, chinkapin, and likely a few others I forgot. Shellbark, shagbark and pignut hickories. Sweetgum, serviceberry, hackberry, sycamore, holly, black walnut, white walnut, persimmon, Eastern redcedar, sugar maple, red maple, silver maple, striped maple, boxelder maple, black locust, stewartia, silverbell, Kentucky yellowwood, blackgum, black cherry, cucumber magnolia, umbrella magnolia, big-leaf magnolia, white pine, scrub pine, Eastern hemlock, redbud, flowering dogwood, yellow buckeye, white ash, witch hazel, pawpaw, linden, hornbeam, and I could continue, but y'all would never get free!
And yet, this tree is different.
We gather around the tree as though surrounding the feet of a prophet. Among the couple dozen of us, only a few are much younger than forty. Even one of the younger men, who smiles approvingly and compliments my sharp eye when I identify herbs along the trail, has gray streaking his beard. One older gentleman scales the steep ridge slowly, relying on a cane for support.
The older folks talk to us young folks with enthusiasm. They brighten when we can call plants and trees by name and list their virtues and importance. "You're right! That's Smilax." "Good eye!" "Do you know what this is?—Yes, Eupatorium, that's a pollinator's paradise." "Are you planning to study botany?"
The tree we have come to see is not like the tall and pillar-like oaks that surround us. It is still young, barely the diameter of a fence post. Its bark is gray and forms broad stripes like rivulets of water down smooth rock. Its smooth leaves are long, with thin pointed teeth along their edges. Some of the group carefully examine the bark down to the ground, but the tree is healthy and flourishing, for now.
This tree is among the last of its kind.
The wood of the American Chestnut was once used to craft both cradles and coffins, and thus it was known as the "cradle-to-grave tree." The tree that would hold you in entering this world and in leaving it would also sustain your body throughout your life: each tree produced a hundred pounds of edible nuts every winter, feeding humans and all the other creatures of the mountains. In the Appalachian Mountains, massive chestnut trees formed a third of the overstory of the forest, sometimes growing larger than six feet in diameter.
They are a keystone species, and this is my first time seeing one alive in the wild.
It's a sad story. But I have to tell you so you will understand.
At the turn of the 20th century, the chestnut trees of Appalachia were fundamental to life in this ecosystem, but something sinister had taken hold, accidentally imported from Asia. Cryphonectria parasitica is a pathogenic fungus that infects chestnut trees. It co-evolved with the Chinese chestnut, and therefore the Chinese chestnut is not bothered much by the fungus.
The American chestnut, unlike its Chinese sister, had no resistance whatsoever.
They showed us slides with photos of trees infected with the chestnut blight earlier. It looks like sickly orange insulation foam oozing through the bark of the trees. It looks like that orange powder that comes in boxes of Kraft mac and cheese. It looks wrong. It means death.
The chestnut plague was one of the worst ecological disasters ever to occur in this place—which is saying something. And almost no one is alive who remembers it. By the end of the 1940's, by the time my grandparents were born, approximately three to four billion American chestnut trees were dead.
The Queen of the Forest was functionally extinct. With her, at least seven moth species dependent on her as a host plant were lost forever, and no one knows how much else. She is a keystone species, and when the keystone that holds a structure in place is removed, everything falls.
Appalachia is still falling.
Now, in some places, mostly-dead trees tried to put up new sprouts. It was only a matter of time for those lingering sprouts of life.
But life, however weak, means hope.
I learned that once in a rare while, one of the surviving sprouts got lucky enough to successfully flower and produce a chestnut. And from that seed, a new tree could be grown. People searched for the still-living sprouts and gathered what few chestnuts could be produced, and began growing and breeding the trees.
Some people tried hybridizing American and Chinese chestnuts and then crossing the hybrids to produce purer American strains that might have some resistance to the disease. They did this for decades.
And yet, it wasn't enough. The hybrid trees were stronger, but not strong enough.
Extinction is inevitable. It's natural. There have been at least five mass extinctions in Earth's history, and the sixth is coming fast. Many people accepted that the American chestnut was gone forever. There had been an intensive breeding program, summoning all the natural forces of evolution to produce a tree that could survive the plague, and it wasn't enough.
This has happened to more species than can possibly be counted or mourned. And every species is forced to accept this reality.
Except one.
We are a difficult motherfucker of a species, aren't we? If every letter of the genome's book of life spelled doom for the Queen of the Forest, then we would write a new ending ourselves. Research teams worked to extract a gene from wheat and implant it in the American chestnut, in hopes of creating an American chestnut tree that could survive.
This project led to the Darling 58, the world's first genetically modified organism to be created for the purpose of release into the wild.
The Darling 58 chestnut is not immune, the presenters warned us. It does become infected with the blight. And some trees die. But some live.
And life means hope.
In isolated areas, some surviving American Chestnut trees have been discovered, most of them still very young. The researchers hope it is possible that some of these trees may have been spared not because of pure luck, but because they carry something in their genes that slows the blight in doing its deadly work, and that possibly this small bit of innate resistance can be shaped and combined with other efforts to create a tree that can live to grow old.
This long, desperate, multi-decade quest is what has brought us here. The tree before me is one such tree: a rare survivor. In this clearing, a number of other baby chestnut trees have been planted by human hands. They are hybrids of the Darling 58 and the best of the best Chinese/American hybrids. The little trees are as prepared for the blight as we can possibly make them at this time. It is still very possible that I will watch them die. Almost certainly, I will watch this tree die, the one that shades us with her young, stately limbs.
Some of the people standing around me are in their 70's or 80's, and yet, they have no memory of a world where the Queen of the Forest was at her full majesty. The oldest remember the haunting shapes of the colossal dead trees looming as if in silent judgment.
I am shaken by this realization. They will not live to see the baby trees grow old. The people who began the effort to save the American chestnut devoted decades of their lives to these little trees, knowing all the while they likely never would see them grow tall. Knowing they would not see the work finished. Knowing they wouldn't be able to be there to finish it. Knowing they wouldn't be certain if it could be finished.
When the work began, the technology to complete it did not exist. In the first decades after the great old trees were dead, genetic engineering was a fantasy.
But those that came before me had to imagine that there was some hope of a future. Hope set the foundation. Now that little spark of hope is a fragile flame, and the torch is being passed to the next generation.
When a keystone is removed, everything suffers. What happens when a keystone is put back into place? The caretakers of the American chestnut hope that when the Queen is restored, all of Appalachia will become more resilient and able to adapt to climate change.
Not only that, but this experiment in changing the course of evolution is teaching us lessons and skills that may be able to help us save other species.
It's just one tree—but it's never just one tree. It's a bear successfully raising cubs, chestnut bread being served at a Cherokee festival, carbon being removed from the atmosphere and returned to the Earth, a wealth of nectar being produced for pollinators, scientific insights into how to save a species from a deadly pathogen, a baby cradle being shaped in the skilled hands of an Appalachian crafter. It's everything.
Despair is individual; hope is an ecosystem. Despair is a wall that shuts out everything; hope is seeing through a crack in that wall and catching a glimpse of a single tree, and devoting your life to chiseling through the wall towards that tree, even if you know you will never reach it yourself.
An old man points to a shaft of light through the darkness we are both in, toward a crack in the wall. "Do you see it too?" he says. I look, and on the other side I see a young forest full of sunlight, with limber, pole-size chestnut trees growing toward the canopy among the old oaks and hickories. The chestnut trees are in bloom with fuzzy spikes of creamy white, and bumblebees heavy with pollen move among them. I tell the man what I see, and he smiles.
"When I was your age, that crack was so narrow, all I could see was a single little sapling on the forest floor," he says. "I've been chipping away at it all my life. Maybe your generation will be the one to finally reach the other side."
Hope is a great work that takes a lifetime. It is the hardest thing we are asked to do, and the most essential.
I am trying to show you a glimpse of the other side. Do you see it too?
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stararch4ngelqueen · 8 months
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For the Jason drabbles, what about Jason conforting/taking care of reader while they are sick or even on their period?
We love a supportive man. What he receives he gives back tenfold.
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“Show me where, baby.”
His hand roamed along your lower abdomen, imagining the soreness in your tense muscles. The spikes of pain that riddled you bedridden during your most heavy days.
“Here?” He applies pressure, fingers rubbing circles down just under your stomach, along the spot near your hip bone.
“Oww, yes,” you whine, wincing from the pain before being soothed by his massage.
Jason knew what periods were. He knew it’s a natural thing women dealt with. He’s worked with women for years, alongside doing his own research on it during one time you hadn’t left your bed for a while, thinking you were sick at first. It was an.. interesting conversation with Babs over what more he could do to help that the internet didn’t tell him about those relentlessly heavy cycles.
Pain like this took a lot longer to be rid of than a heating pad would allow. Especially the good quality ones with different settings.
Or, if you want something different, something fun that he wouldn’t mind shoving into the microwave for a minute, he’d get you a heatable, plush teddy bear. Or a duck. Or a menstruation crustacean.
He had no idea what the hell that was until you showed him on the site. You received whatever you chose in a box nearly three days later from Prime shipping.
Don’t freak out about blood. Accidents happen. If you got some on the sheets, along his lap when he held you, or on the couch, he could’ve cared less.
He wouldn’t even point it out, if you didn’t know. If you did notice it, he’d immediately shush you in an consolation attack, hiding your shameful expression in the crook of his shoulder.
“Shh, baby,” he’d murmur in your ear. “Easy. Nothin’ I haven’t seen before. S’alright, it’s okay.”
With advice from Babs, he cooks a lot more iron rich meals for you a lot more during this time. Usually, it’s been a team effort. You cook, he cleans up, you wash dishes together. Vice versa.
This week, regardless if you suffer from irregular periods, he does it all. He’ll do it even if he was a walking zombie, he doesn’t care.
Jason will not, no matter what you say, let you lift a finger if he knows you’re in pain. He’s an expert of masking his own, he can tell when you do it.
This even goes if you’re not used to being babied, get used to it. You tend to him for weeks at a time in a single month alone, this is his way of saying thank you for it all.
“Bed.” Jason demands, not even having to turn around from his attention on the stove to hear your shuffling to the kitchen.
“But I’m—“
“I brought you a drink,” he replies. A cup of warm raspberry leaf tea sitting on your bedside.
“No, I mean—“
“I know it hurts, but you can’t take anything until after you eat,” Jason peers over his shoulder, seeing his olive green shirt loosely draped over your body. “Go back to bed, Princess.”
“Can I stay here?” You plea, making his shoulders slump with a sigh. Try as he may, your weakened state makes him more pliable to your every request.
Might as well, since you’re already up. Stubborn girl.
“Go sit on the couch,” he sighs, knowing a few comforters were folded up on the cushions. “Get comfortable, an’ stay there. Dinner’s almost done.”
Jason has pills, plenty of them. From plain Tylenol, ibuprofen, to doctor prescribed muscle relaxers, morphine, etc. All thanks to Alfred.
Broken bones or severe, suture required injuries would be the only times Jason felt complied to take them. He knew addiction, watching it first hand and being involved in it at one point himself. He only took them when he absolutely, positively needed it.
For you, if you needed something stronger, he’d give you half of one pill, or a full, single pill at most. No way would you ever fall victim to such a cruel, toxic routine. He’d keep them locked up, for both your safety and his.
After your said hearty, iron rich meal, you remained on the couch snuggled up together like true lovers.
His guilty pleasure during your period of vulnerability was how much you relied on him for comfort. Positions varied, but his most favorite would be your body laying in his lap as he lounged on his reading recliner.
A gray comforter over your shoulders, some fuzzy socks on your feet. The furnace you called your boyfriend leaving you nice and toasty, his hands settling along your hair and back, preparing to soothe and massage when needed.
He adored when you needed him, he loved catering to you. You were his woman, his little nurse turned patient.
This also sort of gave him an excuse to skip out on patrols, but he never voiced the reasons why he’s gotten calls about it. He just didn’t feel like it, refusing the idea of abandoning you late at night, leaving him tense and unfocused on his routine on if you needed something, and he wasn’t there.
The others, with their detective mindsets could figure it out for themselves as to why Jason didn’t show up on a Saturday night. Or a Sunday, and definitely not a Monday.
He had important priorities, after all.
Just him, you; snuggly comfortable and content, and your herbal scented, menstruation crustacean.
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