#i need to be LOVED and sharing my art is the vessel through which i ascribe my self worth... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rin-fukuroi · 5 months

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 [𝐀𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢]

Part 1

Please do not translate or publish my works without my permission.

The originals of my works can be read here

Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail

Pairings: yandere!Argenti x fem!reader

Warnings: yandere, abduction, mention of suicide.

Note: English is not my native language, so I apologize if there are errors in the text qq

I didn't think that I would ever write a sequel and thought that the last work with Argenti was complete, but here I am (¬‿¬ )

art: @oririnxx(Twitter)

Argenti's heart is bursting with guilt and shame. Even in the short time that mutual understanding and love reigned between you, he managed to establish himself as a person who can really be trusted. His feelings and thoughts were always so pure, almost transparent, and you were never in doubt for a moment. Even when he decided on such a desperate act.

You know his house is your house, right? Probably so, since you without hesitation, although sighing heavily, but agreed to go to him, without even asking what exactly he wanted from you. You can always find warmth, care and understanding here, if necessary.

But this time you will find here only the remains of Argenti's conscience. He feels the rot getting deeper into his unscrupulous heart with each new second of waiting. How could everything have gone so far? How could his unconditional adoration and desire to make you happy be perverted to such an extent that he really decided to make you love him?

No, no. You have already loved him before, which means he does not force you, Argenti only… He is trying to awaken in you the old feelings, the seeds of which, he is sure, are still able to bloom again with velvet roses, the fragrance of which will immerse you in the same blissful haze as his.

Oh, you should know how he is tormented. Even when you are already standing on the threshold of his house, he just wants to take you in his arms and never let go, but he plays his role of a heartbroken person who now needs your support. But does he play? You really broke Argenti's heart, but he reassembled every tiny fragment so that the vessel would be filled again with awe and tenderness addressed only to you.

You, of course, can't leave him in this state, even if you caused it yourself. It's so mean to play on your guilt, but what choice does he have? You no longer look at him the way you did in the days when you both didn't mind being in this isolated bubble of love from the rest of the world, focused only on each other. You no longer touch his hand with tenderness, now your fingers are anxiously clenched around Argenti's palm to comfort. You no longer run your tiny fingers through his soft hair, letting the man's head rest on your lap, no longer smile at him with a sincere, really saturated with absolute happiness smile.

Why is that?

If you were happy, why is that no longer the case?

Argenti can't even admit the idea that there is even the slightest bit of your fault in what happened. Of course, it's his fault, so he's ready to sacrifice his own conscience, ready to disregard principles, and all this for you.

The knight seems to be looking at his own reflection in a mirror, in which he sees all the vices that have always been hidden so imperceptibly in the depths of his soul. He only has to touch such a disgusting Argenti reflection of the desires of his own heart, and there will be no turning back.

"For you… just for you…"

For your sake, he is ready to let the darkness completely take over his mind and body.

You are so naively kind, agreeing to stay at his house for the night. You probably haven't had time to enter into a relationship with someone else yet, which Argenti so vehemently prevented, and, he believes, it really paid off.

Yes, that's it, look at him, stay with him, share this bitterness with him, so that together you can drown it out with the sweet taste of reunion, which you also want.

Surely you do, because otherwise you wouldn't have come to him, wouldn't have followed the call of your heart when he needed you so much. You're still worried about Argenti, you still don't want to see him so broken, you're still gentle with him even when you let your relationship turn to dust. Oh, no matter how hard it was for him to admit it, you crushed them yourself. Argenti still doesn't understand what made you commit this unforgivable crime.

But it doesn't matter anymore.

The knight will ban any doors for you, whether it's the doors to the outside world from your new bubble or the doors to a new life in which he has no place. He is ready to accept your tears, ready to accept the words that wound him like a thousand blades that cut his heart. Now he is defamed, spoiled and deserved punishment for what he did. But it was the only way he could put everything back in its place.

What are you going to do, cornered? Oh, of course you're angry.

You curse him, beg him, cry, even lie about what you love. Argenti understands why you're acting like this and won't blame you. You are connected, of course, connected. The darkness that has taken root in the purity of his feelings has affected you, but together you will be able to share this burden. It may take days, weeks, or even years for you to accept what has become of you, but Argenti believes that in the end you will understand that this test is presented from above to both of you in order to strengthen your love.

✧ ✧ ✧

It hurts him to look at how nothing has changed after weeks.

It was stupid to think that you would be able to understand him so soon, but Argenti does not lose hope.

Although, something has changed… He no longer hears your screams, you are no longer banging on the door, desperately trying to get out, no longer crying. Now you look like an empty shell, devoid of any feelings. It scares Argenti so much, but he understands that this is how it should be. You have to get rid of what prevents you from loving him again. Anger, disgust, contempt, hatred — that's what the Knight fights day by day, steadfastly withstanding your attacks, and finally he got rid of most of the obstacles.

— Y/N, forgive me…

"You're not really sorry"

— I'm doing this for you…

"No, you're doing it for yourself"

— I'd do anything for you.

"Then just kill me"

— I love you…

"And I hate you"

Now you're silent when Argenti tries to talk to you. His perfect face, which makes you sick, is always distorted in remorse, and it seems that he really believes that he is sorry. But you know very well that this is not the case.

Most of all, you hate the moments when Argenti insists on helping you take a bath. Bile rises in your throat every time his hands touch your body, but you endure, swallowing the nauseating lump again and again, realizing that you have no choice. You always take one look at him while he gently soaps your skin, noticing how his lips are stretched in a smile, and turn away again, not wanting to see how your disgust for some reason brings him pleasure.

You trusted Argenti.

You always believed that his feelings were really sincere, so he would be able to understand and let you go, but now you were able to look behind the exquisite screen of love, hiding the slippery, stinking and rotting obsession that the man you once loved succumbed to.

Now you feel sorry for Argenti.

Really sorry.

If it weren't for the hatred that dulls all other feelings, you would want to grab his hand and lead him away from the wrong path that he chose, mistakenly believing that it would lead him to happiness. But, to your great regret, he dragged you after him. No matter how much he tries to cleanse your body, your soul rots along with his, soaked in the disgusting fumes of his mutilated care and tenderness, with which he tries to regain something that will never regain its former form.

✧ ✧ ✧

— Y/N, you haven't eaten all day… I brought your portion of dinner.

Argenti is standing in the doorway of your luxurious room, which he has filled with everything he knows you love, believing that it will make you stop hating this place. You don't want to meet his eyes, and you press your knees even harder to your chest, huddling in a corner on your soft bed.

The knight feels his heart constrict in his chest. It happens every day, every time you turn away from him. He wants so much to see your eyes looking into his for once, he wants to hear your voice, but he must be patient.

You hear footsteps approaching and already know what will happen next. Argenti will put the plate on the bedside table and leave you alone, as he does every day. No matter how much you want to stop it, sometimes your stomach is so unbearably twisted with hunger that you can't resist the instinct of self-preservation and force yourself to eat a little. But not today.

— Y/N… — this is something new. You feel it touching your shoulder, sending a sickening shiver under your skin. — I know you don't want to be here, but can you… at least have dinner with me tonight? I promise, if we sit down at the same table, like… — he wanted to say "like before", but suddenly stopped. — Your appetite will return if you share a meal with someone.

How annoying he is. Is he really that naive, or is it just a mask to lull your vigilance. You don't know anymore. You have long ceased to recognize in Argenti the one you once loved.

But you know for sure that the sooner you fulfill his request, the sooner he will leave you alone. At least until tomorrow.

That's why you let him wash you, let him dress you in beautiful outfits that he likes. Not you.

You nod reluctantly, still not moving from your seat, and you hear Argenti exhale softly in relief. If you had dared to look at him, his soft lips would surely have been stretched into a satisfied smile when he received an answer from you.

You wait for the nausea from his touch to finally recede along with the feeling of his hand on your shoulder, and you get out of bed in a doomed way, hearing Argenti take the plate from the table and go to the kitchen.

No matter how much you wandered through the corridors of his luxurious house like a living corpse, it always seemed to you that the walls were about to crush you, but, unfortunately, this never happened, so after tasting a new portion of disappointment, you stop at the kitchen door, noticing a candle on the table, whose dim light drives away the darkness rooms, two glasses of wine and two plates, displayed on exquisite snow-white napkins. Argenti stands waiting, pulling out a chair for you. Your gaze stops for a moment on his hands clutching the back, and the body again gets chilling goosebumps when memories of those hands touching your body pop up in your head.

He really did his best to make this dinner look like a fucking date. It's so disgusting that it almost makes you laugh.

You reluctantly accept Argenti's help, sitting down uncertainly and allowing him to pull your chair closer to the table designed for two.

The meat on the plate is still steaming slightly, as are the shiny grilled vegetables. The food looks delicious, but … for some reason, bile rises to your throat again when you take a fork and knife with trembling hands, preparing to pierce and cut off a juicy piece of your dinner.

Argenti watches with curiosity how you do not dare to try your portion without starting to eat before you do. To be honest, the Knight loses his appetite when he sees you so depressed, not trusting him so much that you are even afraid to eat in his presence. Do you really think he means you harm? Can't you see how hard he's trying for you? Even so, he's glad to finally see you taking even tiny steps towards him.

It's all so much like hunting. Argenti has created an atmosphere of security in your bubble, but has set traps here and there, patiently waiting for you to finally take the bait. He knows you can't hate him forever. Sooner or later you'll have to give up, you'll have to get used to a new life with him.

You hesitantly pierce the meat with a fork, watching the soft fibers displace the juices flowing onto the plate before nervously swallowing and starting to cut. Thoughts immediately flash through your head about how convenient it would be to use this knife to slit your stomach or cut your throat… Yes, it would certainly be better than opening your veins, because then Argenti could still have time to save you. You can see your own blood trickling down the shiny silver metal, instead of the cloudy pinkish liquid oozing out of the steak as you slowly separate a tiny piece from it.

These thoughts… really discourage your appetite, but that's all you can think about while you're here. What's the point of satisfying your hunger if you just want to get it over with? But you also have to play your part, you have to be smarter than Argenti, you have to set your traps, so you touch the meat with your tongue, feeling a slight taste of spices, before sinking your teeth into the juicy fibers and chewing, hurriedly sending a piece down the esophagus.

Argenti is delighted.

Although the corner of your lips twitched when you swallowed a piece of your dinner, he is pleased to see that you are finally eating a warm meal prepared for you with love and care. Usually you just wait for the food to cool down, stubbornly denying hunger before it finally gets the better of you. Argenti has always been frustrated by how you exhaust yourself day by day, but it would be too much to force food cooked by him into you, right?

The knight was finally able to relax, and happily started his own meal, doing the same thing with his piece of steak as you. After tasting the meat cooked for you, Argenti smiles gently.

— Is it delicious? — the man asks, but then with a quiet clink puts the dishes on the plate, seeming to think about something for a second. Of course you won't answer. — I hope I was able to please you a little, Y/N.

He was about to continue his meal, gently wrapping his long fingers around the stem of a wine glass, when suddenly his gaze caught on your frozen figure. Your gaze is focused on the next piece of meat. The silence in the kitchen is broken only by the soft sounds of pinkish drops of juice dripping onto your plate before your lips are pursed, but then hurriedly open when you finally lift your head for the first time in several weeks and look straight into Argenti's emerald eyes. Your piercing gaze seems to have pinned the Knight to the chair, and he watches with bated breath as you take air into your lungs. Your chest heaves slightly with a light breath, and the man's heart shudders.

— Yes… very tasty, thank you.

To hear your voice… oh, you're just killing poor Argenti. During your imprisonment in his house, you managed to teach him to enjoy such little things that he did not attach any importance to before. Your views on him have always seemed to the Knight something as ordinary as the sound of your voice caressing his ears every day spent with you. But now he was so happy to hear even the words you barely uttered.

Argenti will even turn a blind eye to the fact that you did it just to distract his attention.

Did you really think that he didn't notice how you stole a knife from the table with a skill that the best of thieves would envy? Well… he won't scold you for it. You don't know what's best for you, only he knows, so Argenti will definitely protect you from any threats.

But later.

For now, just let him enjoy this moment. Even if it's an illusion, even if it's a lie, even if he invented it all himself, Argenti wants to believe that you took a small step towards him, and this…

Damn. Now his patience is trembling, being held suspended by the thinnest thread that is about to break.

You won't hate him even more if his retaliatory step completely erases the distance separating you from each other, will you?

#hsr #headcanons #hsr x reader #honkai:star rail #honkai:star rail x reader #argenti #argenti x reader #yandere argenti #yandere #genshin drabbles

222 notes · View notes

ddelline · 9 months

Text

ch83—136 | a shibuya OST

what | 49 quintessentially shibuya sounding tracks from every which genre (except the overused nu-metal the fandom wants) blurb | encountered one too many threads about the forthcoming (incredible sounding) shibuya OST filled w "it’s not hard/aggressive-sounding enough to fit the arc"-discourse, which gave me a rash, bc music w/o screaming can also sound (&go) hard af. so that forced me to assemble all my finest genre finds under the category “aggressive/raw/claustrophobic/menacing sounding tracks”, ranging from electro/ebm/breaks/idm → art pop/electronica/triphop → psychedelic rock & more. tldr here it is: the result of me being Affronted By Someone’s Musical Opinion On The Internet playlist → spotify (cont updated) tracklist | under cut

1. Identified Patient — Low Kust instr

2. Tricky & Martina Topley-Bird — Hell Is Round The Corner distant drums bring the news of a kill tonight the kill which I share with my passengers we take our fill, take our fill, take our fill

3. COUCOU CHLOE — WIZZ high—not the first time (shh) high—not your last time (shh)

4. Tzusing — Gait instr

5. Martina Topley-Bird — Too Tough To Die derision’s a cold wind against my skin you keep a-flayin’ til there’s no skin at all what’s to hold it together when you stumble and you fall

6. Labrinth — Nate Growing Up player, player put the money on it

7. Smoke City — Devil Mood I feel in a devil of a mood being instilled by the devil wicked hot, brings me so much pain and pleasure I can’t keep away

8. Massive Attack — Risingson now you’re lost and you’re lethal and now’s about the time you gotta leave all these good people; dream on

9. Portishead — Wandering Star those who have seen the needle’s eye now tread like a husk from which all that was now has fled and the masks that the monsters wear to feed upon their prey

10. The Herbaliser — The Sensual Woman instr

11. Vessel — Red Sex instr

12. Björk — Hunter I’m not stopping: I’m going hunting I’m the hunter—I’ll bring back the goods

13. Sofa Surfers — Hardwire psychic shrapnel the ruin in me I don’t want no heroes cause someday you see the wire

14. Dollkraut — Rollercoaster instr

15. Nearly God, Terry Hall & Martina Topley-Bird — Poems forget the punk, I pack the funk I’m gonna take a piece of you

16. Tristesse Contemporaine — Daytime Nighttime I just keep crashing, living on my rations the bullets and the roses, devil and the poses don’t know where my ghost is; don’t know where my home is guess we never chose this

17. Tzusing — 日出東方唯我不敗 instr

18. Björk — Army of Me you’ll meet an army of me army of me

19. Erik Lundin — Gold my sight aims on the horizon through my pulse and my temperature rising

20. Amnesia Scanner & Freeka Tet — Ledge instr

21. Tzusing — Residual Stress instr

22. The Prodigy — Breathe breathe the pressure come play my game, I’ll test ya psychosomatic, addict, insane

23. Caterina Barbieri — Memory Leak instr

24. Radiohead — The National Anthem everyone is so near everyone has got the fear it’s holding on

25. UNKLE & Thom Yorke — Rabbit In Your Headlights fat bloody fingers are suckin’ your soul away, away, away

26. Queens of the Stone Age — “You Got A Killer Scene There, Man…” what’s the fuckin’ difference, we all gonna die you gonna do something killer? c’mon, give it a try

27. Paul Kalkbrenner — Gebrünn Gebrünn instr

28. Underworld — and the colour red dark charge no, no, no dark charge no, no, no

29. Tricky & Martina Topley-Bird — Black Steel I’m not a fugitive on the run but a brother like me began to be another one public enemy servin’ time, they drew the line y’all they criticize me for some crime 30. Justice — Genesis instr 31. Alice In Chains — Would? am I wrong? have I run too far to get home? have I gone? and left you here alone? 32. Mother Love Bone — This Is Shangrila so don’t you die on me, babe don’t you die on me ‘cause love is all good people need

33. Linkin Park — Faint I can’t feel the way I did before don’t turn your back on me, I won’t be ignored time won’t heal this damage anymore

34. Labrinth — Mount Everest I burn down my house and build it up again (tell ‘em) I burn it down twice just for the fun of it (tell ‘em)

35. Vince Staples & Snoh Aalegra — Jump Off The Roof highway to hell and I’m speeding one way to tell if I’m breathing on three let’s jump off the roof

36. Blawan — Body Ramen instr

37. David Holmes presents The Free Association — Le Baggage rise (rise, rise) rise above ground

38. Nearly God & Björk — Keep Your Mouth Shut better keep your mouth shut, babe next to your chest better keep your mouth closed, baby and keep it close to your chest

39. The Dead Weather — 60 Feet Tall I know it ain’t easy I must tap your evil well boy, you come roaring like a bat out of hell

40. Giant Swan — Boasting instr

41. Screaming Trees — Shadow of the Season the hour is ending, can’t you see there is no way now to get free in the shadow of the season without a reason to carry on

42. Underworld — Bruce Lee bullet got the wrong bloke but he don’t die anyway it’s nothing mortal but he don’t move

43. Amon Tobin & MC Decimal R. — Verbal instr

44. Massive Attack & Young Fathers — Voodoo In My Blood voodoo in my blood is livid blood take, I’m chillin’, chill me got the soul of a mimic sign of the wars is my grinning

45. Blawan — Under Belly instr

46. Massive Attack & Roots Manuva — Dead Editors ‘cause to live or to die for we all search for some kind of truth

47. Gonjasufi — Your Maker (Daddy G Remix) is anyone else tired from working on a spaceship? from walking on a wire?

48. Labrinth — Gangster instr

49. Tzusing — 戴綠帽 (Wear Green Hat) instr

#fandom: jujutsu kaisen #work: music #jjk music #ddelline's music blog #ddelline’s galaxy brain jjk blog #jujutsu kaisen #fandom extras: OSTs

2 notes · View notes

lettersofanne · 2 years

Text

She's a Vessel of Art. She's Me.

She did not come from an artistic or creative background and was not born with any exceptional gifts. She was a lovechild of a plethora of experiences, each of which played a part in sculpting her into an artistic vessel. She is me.

Hi, I’m Jewelry! I wasn’t the typical kind of girl growing up. I used to try out a lot of things that I end up not loving. Because I was evidently born in an environment where I am expected to seek out and develop my strengths. My upbringing had a huge impact on what am I today. In my quest to find my true calling, here I am with a gleeful heart and a creative mind writing this blog answering the question, Are creative writers born or made?

Humans are born; the talent to write can be learned, and humans are generally creative. Everyone has a story to share with the rest of the world, each of which is uniquely different from the others. Some people may tell their stories through a separate line of work that they are enthused about. Whatever the case may be, creative writers are made. These shaped who they are and what they write about because of their upbringing, their experiences, and how they've been able to convert themselves into a vessel of art.

The saying, "If you hear a voice within you say, 'You cannot paint,' then by all means paint, and that voice will be silenced," by Vincent Van Gogh, is the same with writing. A significant amount of effort and thought will need to go into a written piece before you can deem it finished. Never leave an untold story inside of you. When writing, you should never give your readers something they don't want. If you wish to prevail, treat your readers like your enemy. To win, you'll need the ability to alter their perspectives through your writing. Instead of duplicating reality, creativity generates new perceptions within the spectator.

As a writer, I have always written about things that interest me, events happening around the world, and stories that my imagination desires to tell. The fact that I'd come to like writing was a complete surprise. I'd written previously to fulfill academic obligations, but it was more out of mental need than genuine enthusiasm. But earlier in 2021, whilst being bored, I attempted to write down my thoughts in narrative form. And there it was; it ignited a fire inside me that had never been kindled before; I knew then that writing was my calling. It's not always easy for me to put pen to paper, but when the words start flowing, I usually end up with something that readers seem to like. When I write a story, I can conjure up vivid imagery in the minds of my readers with nothing but black ink and white paper.

The gist of it all is that creative writers are made. How we want to portray art shouldn’t be enclosed in certain forms of it. Writing is an underestimated form of art but for me, it’s the most important of all as it is about who we are, what happened to us, and how our lives are affected by it. As what we’ve written can be left for the dead and the living to see and read.

- Jewelry • 9/21/22

1 note · View note

messinwitheddie · 5 months

Note

I looked through your whole invader Zim art and I must ask: if you can list the tallest all the way to the current ones now. Who was the first? Anyone from ancient times? Was it one of the control brains?

If tallest purple were to die and be reunited with Red, who is most likely to take his place? Anyone of interest that we may know about? Someone new?

Thank you for looking at my drawings :D Long answer will be long. Forgive me.

I only have lore for a handful of the first 26 and 1/2 almighty tallests, which were measured after the control brain takeover. Most of them are unnamed.

Tallest Spanx (oc for my au, obviously) was the first modern Almighty Tallest.

There were 3 eras before Irk's final world War (during which the control brains were engineered/ took over the species, which marks the beginning of Irk's 4th era, where Zim's timeline takes place.)

Most of the information on the tallests and the hives they ruled before the control brain takeover is confiscated by the brains and not shared to the average drone. I have buttloads of lore for these tallests. Sorry my blog is so unorganized.

Before the control brains, Irk was divided into many subterranean hive-nations each with a lineage of tallests that ruled their respective hives. There were many many wars between hives. Maps were redrawn every few centuries or so.

The "first" tallest, (who existed during the equivalent of the Irken bronze age) who may as well be just a legend in Zim's era, was Behemmotta. Her name is unknown to all Irkens in the modern era, except for the control brains. To speak her name aloud is forbidden. A GIANT megalith statue was constructed in her likeness to honor her mighty memory. The Colossus is the name of the statue. It's the only structure on the surface of Irk from the first era to still exist. I really need to finish her origin story. Here's the first half of it.

Tallest Purple is actually the last almighty tallest to rule over the Irken empire in my au. The control brains eventually give themselves an upgrade, transfer their consciousnesses into new vessels and crown themselves "towering tallests", thus combining their duties as control brains and rulers of the empire and eliminating the middle man of an almighty tallest.

Sorry I used old art for this ask.

#invader zim #irken #tallests #oc #au #lore

5 notes · View notes

simisun · 5 months

Text

The Abuse of Power & Neglect...

Sister Myrah Moss is a spiritual master teacher/elder on astrology and Divine holistic balance & harmony. She has spoken a lot about the abuse of power as being the one and only spiritual sin, which integrates with my own belief/knowing that the only sin is not being true to yourself.

The abuse of power is not being true to yourself, because we all have an inner voice or external experience that directs us to harmonize with Divine justice even if we choose to ignore it through cognitive dissonance or some other means.

Today I received an even more in depth perspective of the abuse of power in regard to personal power.

Neglect is the highest form of abuse.

The rice water experiment by Dr. Masaru Emoto comes to mind as an example of this. The practitioner spoke kindly to one glass of rice with water, negatively to another, and said nothing at all to the third. After a few days, the container with empowering words was in pretty good standing, the one that received negative words was moldy, however the one that had been ignored was in even worse condition. This is just something for people who require "evidence". However as a former certified Qualified Mental Health Practitioner (QMHP) behavioral health specialist, and child myself, I can vouch that the same effects are true for humans. The child who's parents may curse them out, and talk down to them while providing some needs, or occasionally showing mild affection, often has a healthier psyche/self view than the abandoned child; although neither condition is ideal. Of course the child who has loving, encouraging, emotionally and practically mature, supportive parents feels best about themselves.

To have power and do nothing with it is even worse than doing something "bad" with it. Because we can learn through negative experience, or allow others an opportunity to empower themselves through the act of declaring their own justice against the misuse of our power. For example, the personal growth and deep connection to one's inner higher self/spiritual sources/ancestors, etc that occurs when they are pressured into having faith in a higher power because "the powers that be" are on some oppressive shixt. Whether it be the society they live in, the parents who raised them, etc. In order to overcome the status quo one HAS to come out of victim mode... even when they have indeed been innocent & victimized. Energy itself is neither "good" nor "bad" because alchemy can always work things out in the highest good of all. Its up to the vessels utilizing and/or receiving it to decide how to manipulate it through Spiritual work. And everything is Spiritual because EVERYTHING has Asé, Chi, Qi, Prana, etc...

On a more personal, artistic note, to have a gift and do NOTHING with it is the biggest abuse of power even if the stagnation is a result of fear/perfectionism/childhood trauma. We ALL have power. No matter how much, or how tapped into it we are.

I say this as someone actively healing from creative perfectionism. Now that I'm deciding to just use what I have, create from a place of integrity (which is just being true to all parts of myself including my lower and higher aspects), and share my art without a focus on "likes", what people want to hear/see from me, or if I'm doing too much by promoting/sharing my art in certain ways; everything is flowing so much easier. Its really beautiful.

I think about something I desire, envision it, and get back to the flow of creating rather than needing to make an overly detailed, solid, "fool-proof" plan to ensure I don't "fail". The art of releasing. A key in archery... making the mark...hitting the target (shout out to Sagittarius season which just started today. 21. I see you :-)

The doubts have still showed up, however I move through them with so much more graceful assurance, and its only because of the confidence that Spirit is always loyal to me, providing for me, and carrying me in the best ways. I ONLY know this because I decided to do "crazy" Chit like listen to my inner voice instead of "common" sense. It was scary. Now its more exciting than anything. I move in my power and utilize my gifts allowing the blessings to pour in rather than doing things I don't love (neglecting my gifts) for false security.

The debilitating depression and feeling that everything was happening to me has greatly dissipated. Yeah I still experience lows & highs, however I utilize that energy and allow myself to express it AND share it. I do this instead of using my art to conform to stereotypical, popular, seemingly quick money routes that I know don't serve me or anyone else on a higher level ( low vibrational, malicious abuse). Rather than refusing to talk about things in my music that require me to explore the true roots of my pain; or just sitting on my gifts and not creating/releasing it (neglect) which doesn't serve any one on any level at all.

As stated before, even the lower vibrations are better than none because they can always expand and raise in frequency. My art is reflective of the alchemizing of both the highs and the lows. Transcendence.

#SIMISUN

#simi sun #hip hop #power #abuse of power #creative writing #hip hop artist #abuse of authority #alchemy #female hip hop #spiritual vibrations #consciousness #empowerment

1 note · View note

lgmenvs3000w23 · 1 year

Text

You Can Only Love What You Know

Something my grade 11 ceramics teacher said has always stuck with me;

“You can only love what you know.”

She was using it in the context of conservation and the Vancouver Aquarium. While I can’t seem to verify it online, she said it used to be their slogan. And that although we all have differing opinions on zoos and aquariums, how can we expect people to want to protect things they’ve never seen or heard of before?

I think she was right. Kids may grow up to fight for, say, tiger habitat, if they saw one as a kid in captivity and had a formative experience staring at it and having it stare back at them. Or care about whales and vessel strikes if they saw one as a kid in an aquarium, and witnessed how intelligent they were.

Is this to say I agree on having whales, large carnivores, or really any animals in captivity? Not exactly, no. I grew up on the West Coast, and didn’t have to go to Sea World to see cetaceans. But I do believe that for a lot of people, they’re likely not going to have a chance to interact with - and therefore care for and build an attachment to - that animal in the wild.

This ties into chapter 3 of our textbook, in which it was hypothesized inner city kids may grow up afraid of real or perceived danger in the woods, and grow up to destroy that area of perceived threat (Beck et al., 2018).

And so perhaps having zoos and aquariums actually help preserve the natural world. Nowadays, I believe we can achieve a similar effect online. Growing up, I don’t think my parents knew what an Oregon spotted frog was. How could they? How would they find out about it? But now it’s just one instagram post and a google search away from me knowing all about BC’s endangered frog species.

This is all the reason why I share so many photos of the creatures we caught as bycatch the last two summers doing salmon research. We caught them in a patch of eelgrass, which is a wildly biodiverse habitat despite being beside a soon-expanding cargo terminal. But people can only love what they know. I felt my sharing of what exists there was a step I could personally take in order to work towards protecting that habitat. This is often a common goal of nature interpreters; outreach.

(Some of the species above include Chinook salmon, hooded nudibranch, white sturgeon, starry flounder, some kind of ctenophore (look closely!), and penpoint gunnel)

A similar approach was taken in the nineteenth century, when artists took their artwork of America's beautiful landscapes to congress, in hopes it would inspire them to protect these natural areas; and it did (Beck et al., 2018). Creating songs, writing poetry, doing paintings, and taking pictures are all art forms that can spread the message that nature is worth saving, without people needing to live in close proximity to the grandest of national parks. Even we aren’t immune to the awe of these works. In the Gulf Islands of BC, there's a special biogeoclimatic zone called Coastal Douglas Fir. I haven’t spent much time in them, but through fantastic paintings I’ve seen, and photography shared online, I personally have placed value on them, and I feel it’s a habitat we need to preserve. It is hard to encapsulate the beauty of places, things, and species, and being there is always better, but it’s our job to try.

Beck, L., Cable, T. T., & Knudson, D. M. (2018). Interpreting cultural and natural heritage : for a better world. Sagamore Venture.

1 note · View note

processandenquirypamelajanewhite · 1 year

Text

Final assessment folio

Artist statement, 10 images and Evaluation

Artists statement

My work stems from a psychological and emotive response to events that have happened in my life. My approach to my creativity is not limited to what medium I work with, but more the subject matter, and my own applied experiences determine what is used and what the outcome will be. This is also applicable to my not having a specific style, as I believe that just as things change and have changed in my life, my art reciprocates this and constantly evolves.

This fluidity has allowed for accepting new challenges and experimenting with various techniques, but my one true methodology tends to be that of collage, where utilising layers is something that I have been automatically drawn to. This can be seen in my work with textiles, installations, paintings and also film, where it is important for me to be able to express the literal and metaphorical layers.

Kintsugi - I'm broken too

Self portrait

Photograph

Kintsugi -gold thread

Bone china shards, held together with glue and gold thread.

Kintsugi - Empty Vessel

Silk screen print on A3 paper.

Kintsugi - holding it together

Photograph of myself holding broken pieced of the bowl then placed on top of the light box. I then placed smaller shards of actual bone china on top and took this photo.

Wait

3d final installation

Dust sheet, bucket and embroidery.

You left traces

2d final installation using dust sheet, acrylics, ink and starch.

Bone china burn out - empty vessel

Bone china burn out - vessels

Moth eaten

Scarf and envelope with poem

Empty vessels

2d final installation

Youtube link to breathing into empty vessel.

Process and enquiry

Evalutation

When I started to develop my work into process and enquiry and chose the theme of “empty vessels”, I had no idea how reflectively apt this area would have been.

My work was not progressing due to unsuitable living conditions and personal safety, so I was unable to initially have clarity of thought to be able to produce anything that I felt of any value. However, I managed to re-evaluate the situation with regards to my art and apply the stressful situation to my work, utilising found objects and an emotive response. This was literally an extensive and personal obstacle that I managed to overcome whilst navigating through the coursework. Yes, I do believe that my work could have been more refined, specifically with presentation, and this style of art is not something that I would normally create. What I have created is possibly more conceptual and minimal than what I am used to, which may or may not have a more thought-provoking impact than my usual style and previous works.

The artists that I chose to research were realistic to the subject matter that I chose and also the processes that I followed, I also felt that from the research there were areas that I could develop further and am excited at this prospect. I look forward to working with more materials and using repetitive patterns in a 3d format, similar to Rscheng Tsang, I enjoyed the simplicity of her work and the soothing effect that it created.

I am quite pleased with some of my work, especially the “you left traces” and “wait”, I liked the relevance of the emptiness, the void and questions that people could have had, looking into this vessel. I was disappointed in my actual attempt at kintsugi, it looked more depressing than something of fragile beauty, but again perhaps it needed to be because when I created it, I was not in a calm state of mind, so therefore it was appropriate.

Overall, I am pleased with how I managed to continue to produce art in spite of my situation, I also found that if I did not have art, then I would have potentially not had an outlet

0 notes

mtmains · 2 years

Text

Clip studio paint cosmic brush

Clip studio paint cosmic brush how to#

Clip studio paint cosmic brush full#

Clip studio paint cosmic brush series#

This led me to explore other natural materials including feathers and horsehair. I was inspired by the material of clay, a natural material sourced from the ground, that conceptually holds the meaning of comfort and connection to the earth. Influences on my artwork came from clay books including Derek Wilson, Greg Daly and Eric Landon, for their curvaceous vessels and glazing techniques.īruce Riddell’s book Art in The Making questioning “Why do some people prefer circles to squares?” initiated thoughts about curvaceous forms, resulting in my exploration into wheel throwing clay with soft, gentle curves.

Clip studio paint cosmic brush how to#

I taught myself to centre the clay and developed my own technique for throwing, gradually learning how to trim pots and also the correct drying timeframes for leather hard and bone-dry clay. I also attended an introductory wheel throwing workshop and a glazing class to learn how raw glaze materials can be mixed to form different effects. This relationship is conveyed through the interlinking of coils, which also symbolically communicate the connections between people, reinforced by the cups and the ritual of sharing food and conversations.īecause I was new to the artform of pottery and ceramics this year, my starting points included a lot of research and reading books about clay and techniques of creating, glazing and firing. Grounded is an installation that employs both hand building and wheel throwing techniques to communicate ideas of sensual engagement between the potter and the clay. I found the way I could utilise water to make to make the watercolour either richer or lighter in tone very interesting. I loved learning that I can’t just cover or erase a mistake, it’s always there and very raw. Watercolour was very different to working with pencil or acrylic paint. Interesting/challenging aspects of creating the work … I wanted to make it more personal with images of cats I knew with their different personalities and emotions. I felt I had to make up a story for them and I didn’t want to do that. Even though the images on the internet had more intense facial and body expressions, I felt that they weren’t real. I decided that I didn’t want to copy or source images from the internet. I was unsure of exactly how many works and which source images I would use.

Clip studio paint cosmic brush series#

These details inspire me to paint and draw so I can present to others what I see, with the details they might be missing, not just in cats, but the world.įor the series of watercolour works, I knew I wanted to complete a number of A3 paintings, each with a different facial expression or body position. Because I can get so close to them, I notice the details of their fur, eyes and noses. My four cats – Snuggles, Mittens, Cheeto and Honey – are big inspirations to me. I wanted my final piece to convey the same sense of storytelling and emotion as Coppens’ paintings. Martine Coppens, an artist who observes cats with love and fascination, is another influence for me. He was my soul mate, and I wanted to present to people that soul mates don’t just have to be people but can be animals, too. Snuggles, who passed away at the start of the year. My starting point and main influence was my cat Mr. I’m hoping the viewer can find comfort by being reminded of their connections with their cats or other pets.

Clip studio paint cosmic brush full#

I found cats to be very entertaining and wanted this series to capture the full spectrum of emotion and expression cats are capable of. The work explores how cats present their feelings and emotions through body language and facial expressions, and the connections that cats can have with people, providing comfort and release from stress and anxiety without the need to talk. This exhibition highlights the NGV’s strong commitment to arts education, as well as its role as a platform for young people to express their diverse ideas, attitudes and beliefs. This year’s exhibitors were selected based on key criteria including conceptual development, technical excellence, aesthetic considerations, awareness of past and contemporary art practices, individuality and innovation. The exhibition includes reflections on identity, time, home, social issues and our connection to the natural world. Showcasing the exceptional work of students who have completed VCE Art or Studio Arts in 2021, the exhibition highlights the resilience and creativity of young artists, who have used art and design to explore and understand the world around them.Ĭomprising work selected from applicants across Victoria, the exhibition encompasses a range of media, including drawing, painting, printmaking, sculpture, digital and mixed media. For 28 years, the NGV’s annual Top Arts exhibition has celebrated the artistic dynamism and creative vitality of young Victorians.

#Clip studio paint cosmic brush

1 note · View note

psychewritesbs · 3 years

Photo

Chapter 160: How much of Yuji’s life has been orchestrated? + Megumi the stage-five clinger

Happy JJK-Sunday!

If I had to describe chapter 160 with as few words as possible, I would say: Oh f*ck...

My favorite moment was, of course, Megumi acting like a stage-five clinger. His interaction with Yuji in this chapter is especially ominous in light of Yuji being adamant of protecting Megumi from Sukuna.

A second favorite was Sasaki showing up in this chapter because of the implications moving forward.

Let’s jump right in.

How much of Yuji’s life has been orchestrated by Kenjaku?

We start the chapter with Kenjaku talking to none other than Sasaki, one of the members of the Occult Club at the high school in Sendai that Yuji used to attend.

Of course, the bomb that Gege dropped on us in this chapter is when Kenjaku thanks Sasaki “for getting along with my son”.

Like... excuse you?

Not only does this 100% confirm that Kenjaku used Yuji’s mother’s body to give birth to him, but this specific moment + some foreshadowing from previous chapters also opens an interesting can of worms about Yuji’s life: just how much of Yuji’s life has Kenjaku orchestrated?

For me, the implication is that Sasaki had an assigned role to play in Yuji’s life that would inevitably lead to him eating Sukuna’s finger.

I am assuming this because although we don’t see Kenjaku’s interactions with the other people in Sendai, we get to see that, in addition for thanking her for getting along with Yuji, Kenjaku is incredibly kind to Sasaki. We also learn that she’s the only one who has received a special message from him (thanking her).

Ready to make this whole interaction more ominous? Someone pointed out that the kanji in Sasaki’s name means assistant.

All of this brings us right back to Yuji’s free will--or lack thereof?

We already know that Kenjaku claims he made Yuji “ingest” Sukuna’s finger and that Megumi is rightfully concerned with this idea because he witnessed Yuji eat Sukuna’s finger “of his own free will.”

It’s also becoming increasingly obvious that Yuji was "created” solely for the purpose of becoming Sukuna’s vessel.

What this new reveal about Sasaki does is that it makes everything feel like certain events have been part of Kenjaku’s master plan all along. While this still feels a little farfetched, it will come down to how Gege works this idea into the story moving forward.

Come to think of it, even Yuji’s grandfather’s dying words to Yuji take on a new meaning since we know Wasuke knew something was definitively up with Yuji’s mother.

Another possible bit of foreshadowing all the way in chapter 1: While the intersection in the second panel below could be ANY intersection in Japan, it sure looks like the Shibuya crossing:

A quick note on the importance of kanji meanings in JJK before moving onto the next section: knowing the meaning of Sasaki’s name tells us that names are important in JJK. If you haven’t, I recommend you read my break down on the meaning of Megumi’s FULL NAME. His first name is important, but so is his last name.

The plans moving forward

Going off to Tokyo Colony #2 are Panda and Hakari.

As the strongest, Hakari feels like he should take on Hajime. As for Panda, it looks like his focus will be on hunting down Angel.

Side note: I love that Hakari is still calling Megumi names. Guess Senpai can’t help himself.

I must admit I was disappointed to find that Kirara will stay behind to report, but it is what it is. I am assuming Gege could see no use for Kirara and decided to leave the character out of the action for the time being.

As for Megumi and Yuji, they’ll be heading to Tokyo Colony #1 to target Higuruma, everybody’s new favorite Law & Order boss.

This brings us to Megumi’s current state of mind...

Megumi the stage-five clinger

I had a hard time coming up with the title for this section because what I see happening is that Megumi is starting to feel the pressure of the looming deadline for Tsumiki joining the Culling Game. What his behavior shows, however, is that he needs Yuji with him and is clinging onto him but won’t come out and say it--opting instead for aggression towards Yuji, the very same person he needs most.

His behavior reminded me of how Megumi could be mean to Tsumiki even though he clearly adores her. Apparently that’s the meaning of being tsundere. I’ve read about the term tsundere before but it never “clicked” until this moment and I just love Gege’s interpretation of the trope through Megumi’s character.

It goes without saying that it was REALLY interesting to me to see Megumi’s dynamic and interaction with Yuji in this chapter because it looks like Gege is letting us know Megumi’s state of mind continues to be one of desperation--remember that dogeza bow from chapter 157?

The thing about Megumi is that he looks stoic on the outside, but he’s actually an incredibly emotional person who doesn’t often show how he’s feeling.

I hadn’t caught on, but in chatting with @justafrenchlondoner about the chapter, they pointed out Megumi’s behavior in his dynamic with Yuji appears nervous and aggressive.

Upon a second look I have to agree that Megumi is acting out of character and aggressive with Yuji when all that Yuji really wants is to protect Megumi from Sukuna.

And yes, let me go ahead and sound like a broken record as I remind you of Yuji’s rather ominous words from chapter 143 yet again:

And this is the part of the chapter that knocked the air out of me: Megumi telling Yuji to stfu about Sukuna but Yuji thinking to himself “as long as I’m around you will suffer” back in ch143 is so damn ominous.

Oh f*ck...

But this is what REALLY gets me about this whole interaction and why I’m calling Megumi a stage-five clinger...

Even though Megumi is calling Yuji selfish, in reality, the one being selfish is Megumi.

This is, of course, my own interpretation of the situation, but to me it feels as though Megumi is clinging onto Yuji’s strength for dear life.

It’s almost like Megumi needs not just Yuji’s physical strength, but also his unwavering conviction or mental strength.

If you think about it, Megumi has only recently started fighting to win. Remember how unsure he was of himself when fighting Sukuna for the first time? It wasn’t until he went up against the Cursed Spirit from the Yasohachi bridge that he let go of his inhibitions.

Megumi’s battles during Shibuya were the pinnacle of his growth as a character in that moment. If I remember correctly, according to the timeline of events, the Shibuya incident happened around two weeks prior to the current chapter. You could say that although he is more comfortable in his strength than before, Megumi is still growing into his strength at this point.

The thing about Megumi is that everybody and their Divine Dog believes in him and sees his potential except for him. As Gojo tells him “you undervalue yourself.”

Looking back, the way Megumi asks begs Yuji for help in chapter 143 is very enlightening of how Megumi needs Yuji’s strength:

I initially had read this to mean Megumi needed Yuji’s physical strength. Upon second look, however, Megumi has always seemed to have admiration for Yuji’s conviction.

With the looming deadline for Tsumiki’s vow to join the Culling Game, as Megumi starts to feel the pressure to make his plan work, who better to keep around than the person who will always go for the home run and whose strength he admires?

In other words, like hell he’s going to let Yuji leave his side. Which, again, only makes it more heartbreaking to think Sukuna is up to no good regarding Megumi and Yuji wants to protect him from that.

Oh f*ck.......

The panel below feels like a bit of a lighthearted and comical moment, but it’s also interesting to note that this is the second time they “fight”.

The first “fight” having taken place during the Cursed Womb Arc.

If you will remember, Gege used the Cursed Womb Arc and the Origin of Obedience Arc to show us how much our favorite trio had grown.

Not sure Gege is going to parallel something here again, but just interesting to note.

Oh f*ck...

Ya, please excuse the French.

Despite the many words I’ve shared here, this chapter left me mostly speechless.

I feel like I’ve been trapped in Gojo’s limitless domain expansion and all I can think is “oh f*ck” or “halloween” (if you catch my drift).

Chapter 160 was incredible because it looks like Gege has finally finished putting all his pieces into place and is ready to go for the kill by:

Starting to unravel the story bit by bit, giving us all of the twists we both saw and did not see coming, and

Ramping up the stakes. Taking into consideration the estimates that JJK is somewhere around 60-70% done at this point, It’s not a matter of whether some of our beloved characters will die, but about who, when and how they will die

One last detail

I love the last four panels of the chapter showing Panda, Hakari, Yuji and Megumi all wearing their uniforms (barring Panda) and getting ready to become official participants of the Culling Game by entering their respective barriers.

Knowing that Gege is a very talented artist capable of showing and expressing emotions through his art, I feel like these panels tell us a lot about what the characters might be thinking and I thought I’d expand on that.

Bear in mind this is my personal interpretation as an artist:

Panda looks excited and ready to fight, perhaps even confident. Panda is saying “bring it!” with his body language

There’s a hint of something I can’t describe in Hakari’s face. It’s almost like he’s coming face to face against how big of a challenge this is going to be and yet he’s resolved to walk straight into “the depths of hell itself”

Yuji looks focused, determined to go in and give it his best no matter what comes his way--that’s just who he is

And then there’s Megumi. I’ve been drawing Megumi recently, and one thing I noticed is that he has very specific micro-expressions. In his panel, he’s warming up his wrists as though he’s getting ready to fight, he has a focused look on his face, but the shadows around his eyes say he might be feeling like he is carrying the heavy burden of the uncertainty surrounding the situation he’s going through

With all that being said... the Culling Game is officially starting and we’re in for a one-way ride straight to hell.

Thank you for reading and happy JJK-Sunday!

What about you? What did you enjoy most about chapter 160?

#fushiguro megumi #megumi fushiguro #yuji itadori #itadori yuuji #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen manga #jujutsu kaisen spoilers #god i love jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen meta #jujutsu kaisen theory #jjk ch 160 #gege akutami #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #hakari kinji #jjk meta #jjk theory

182 notes · View notes

bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 4 years

Text

Take Me, I’m Yours

(the highest voted options on the poll were ‘Geralt rescues Jaskier from trouble’ and ‘Jaskier riles the Captain up in public’ so I teamed up with the ever-marvelous, stupendously talented @limrx to bring you this Swashbuckling AU oneshot/art piece featuring a horribly jealous Geralt and a frisky, flirty Jaskier)

------------------------

“Do you think he likes me back?” Jaskier asked. He leaned over the ship’s railing to look more closely at the dolphin following behind them. Lambert didn’t think he’d fall overboard but it would be kind of funny if he did. The strange young nobleman did have a way of always landing on his feet, though.

“I know he does.”

“Well how come he hasn’t told me anything about it, then?”

“You’ve met the Captain, right? About this tall, long white hair, weird yellow eyes, emotionally incompetant?”

“You have a good point. Should I just confront him about it?”

“Yeah, sure.” Lambert rolled his eyes before shooting Jaskier a pointed look. “If you want to send your ransom note back to Lettenhove the following morning.”

“Fuck. I just want to kiss him, Lambert. Regularly. I want to know if he snores or not. I want to lay on the deck beneath the stars and talk to him like we’re friends and not just pirate and pseudo-pirate-captive. I really want to see what his ass looks like under those godsforsaken trousers, Lambert, it’s killing me not knowing.”

“You’re more insatiable than a siren during the rainy season,” the second mate teased. “But with fewer teeth.”

“Shut up.”

“Are you going ashore when we lay anchor?”

“Am I allowed?”

“I assume you’ll be allowed. You’re practically part of the crew. You’ve been aboard for nearly two weeks and you’ve pulled your fair share of the weight, if not moreso.”

“Why thank you, Lambert. I appreciate you noticing.”

“Of course, Jaskier. You may be an utter fool and a fop to boot, but at least you’re a hard worker.”

“Asshole.”

“Mhm.”

They both watched the dolphins for a minute in silence before Jaskier’s face split into the most heinous and dastardly grin. It filled Lambert with an unmistakable sense of fear and worry. “I have a brilliant idea. I know how to get Geralt to admit his feelings.”

“No, absolutely not. I am not getting roped into this, you horrible little minx. Don’t give me that look! I won’t help you this time!”

“But Lamby-bert,” Jaskier whined. “If he has someone to take all his frustrations out on in bed then I’m sure it’ll be easier to negotiate for higher shares next time we take a vessel.”

Lambert did not miss the fact that Jaskier said ‘we’ when referring to the crew. The second mate knew the little nobleman was here to stay; it had been clear that Jaskier would be sticking around from the moment Geralt first laid eyes (and hands) on him. The Captain hadn’t stopped looking out for the lad since. Lambert wasn’t even going to think about that singular flirty kiss atop the mainmast nearly a week and a half ago. Geralt had been pining after the acrobatic little idiot ever since and making absolutely no move to flirt back. It was driving the crew absolutely crazy. “Alright, you devilish siren. I’m in.”

----------------------------------------

Jaskier cleaned up nice.

And he deserved to clean up nice. He’d worked hard to put this outfit together. Billy had lent him a pair of dark blue breeches in return for Jaskier’s help with mending the mainsail. The shirt he was wearing was half a size too big, which was exactly big enough for the neckline to plunge even lower than he usually wore it. This way it revealed more of his toned (and rather hirsute) chest. He’d borrowed it from Starkey, who was the same height as him but who had much broader shoulders.

The Captain was going to absolutely die when he saw Jaskier.

He whistled a rather naughty shanty as he exited the bunk room and made his way towards the gangplank where Starkey, Lambert, and Eskel were waiting for him. He spun in a quick circle, arms out to show off his clothes. Lambert and Starkey whistled appreciatively and Eskel hid his face in the palm of his hand. “Ready, boys?”

“Absolutely not,” Starkey smiled. The first mate standing next to him tilted his head back to look at the sky, sighing deeply.

“Are you sure about this? What if the Captain tries to kill Lambert?”

“He won’t be killing anyone. Hopefully. If he does run his sword through anyone, it will most likely be me,” Jaskier joked. “Now, this is my first time drinking with real pirates. Anything I should know?”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Eskel suggested. Lambert bit back a laugh and Starkey snorted.

“Impossible.”

“Well then, let’s go.”

The four men made their way down onto the docks and through the sparse crowd of sailors and merchants still mingling in the evening light. Starkey led them to a decent tavern and found a vacant corner table, which gave them an excellent view of the door.

Geralt and Starkey had spent the morning selling their stolen cargo to various merchants, shopkeepers, and artisans. The Captain had divided up the gold between his crew according to their various contracts and Jaskier, more as a jest than anything else, was given two crowns as well. “For not dying,” Geralt had intoned seriously. The men were amused but Jaskier’s face had gone bright red with embarrassment. The young noble had talked them out of trouble with the Skelligan patrols twice last week and Geralt was repaying him with public humiliation? Lambert knew that the Captain’s earlier actions were about to make this evening a lot more entertaining (if slightly uncomfortable) and he was ready to get this show on the road. He flung an arm around Jaskier’s waist and ordered them all a round of ales.

“So everyone knows what the general goal here is, right?” Jaskier clarified.

“Yes,” Eskel nodded. “You’re using Geralt’s jealous nature to make him act on his less than subtle feelings for you.”

“Correct. Wonderful.”

Lambert squeezed the noble’s hip through his borrowed pants and Jaskier huffed indignantly in reply. Starkey chuckled softly at their antics and winked at the barmaid when she brought them their drinks. “Can’t wait, really. It’s been so boring lately and the last two ships we took didn’t even fight back. This is drama. This is entertainment!”

“Shut up, Starkey,” Jaskier pouted. He leaned back into Lambert’s embrace and gulped down half his ale.

“Slow down, kid,” the first mate teased. “Or you will be drunk when he gets here and your plan won’t work.”

“I need to get the pink in my cheeks or I’ll look suspicious,” Jaskier argued. “One ale should do it without getting me tipsy. Maybe two if it’s weak.”

“Method actors,” Lambert rolled his eyes.

Jaskier was sipping slowly at his second ale and the other three pirates were on their fourth or fifth when Geralt finally came barreling through the tavern door. “There you are!” Eskel shouted, waving the Captain over. Nobody missed the barely-hidden glare Geralt aimed at Lambert’s arm where it rested against the nobleman’s lower back.

“Captain,” the second mate nodded.

“Lambert. Eskel. Starkey.” Geralt greeted them all in turn.

“Heyyyy,” Jaskier whined, leaning forward against the edge of the table and pouting. “What about me, sir?”

“You.”

“Rude,” the brunette huffed. Lambert ran a lazy hand up and down his spine and Jaskier watched as Geralt’s eyes narrowed into slits. He sighed sadly and melodramatically into his mug and nodded once in the second mate’s direction. “Thank you, darling. At least someone in this crew likes me.”

Starkey saw Geralt’s eyelid twitch and slid Eskel two crowns under the table to settle their bet. He thought the vein on their Captain’s throat would show up before the eyelid went, but it must have been the first mate’s lucky night this time around. “Hey Eskel, let’s see if any of the lovely ladies here want to dance with us, eh?”

“You coming, Captain?” Eskel asked. “Seems like Jaskier and Lambert are a bit busy.”

“Yes, Geralt,” Jaskier egged him on. The Captain had a white-knuckled grip on the handle of his mug. The noble took a long swig of ale and licked a bit of foam from his lip when he was finished, noting the way Geralt’s eyes locked onto his mouth. “Why not go dance with a pretty lady. Certainly nobody else has your attention.”

The pirate Captain finally snapped. He slammed his mug down and reached around the table to grab Jaskier around the waist. He hauled him out of the second mate’s grip and onto his feet. “Captain, what are yo-”

“Yer coming with me, siren,” Geralt snarled. Lambert relinquished the nobleman with very little fuss, winking at Jaskier as the pirate Captain swung him up and over his broad shoulder. The young man flashed all three of his co-conspirators a thumbs up as he was carried out of the tavern like a sack of potatoes.

“A little rude to Lambert, don’t you think, sir?” he asked, resting his elbow against Geralt’s shoulder blade and settling his chin onto his hand. He crossed his ankles to make it easier for the pirate to balance his weight comfortably. “But they’ll be happy to know that our little plan worked out.”

Geralt stopped in his tracks but did not set his captive down. “Your what?”

“Our plan,” Jaskier explained as if bored. “To get you to finally do something about all this sexual tension between us. I kissed you on the mouth for fuck’s sake.”

“I thought it was an accident.”

“Oh, and saving you from hanging at the hands of some Skelligan officers, was that an accident? Not sending a ransom note last time we stopped for water and not turning you in for the reward in Novigrad, were those accidents too? There is a hefty bounty on your head, White Wolf, and I could be living independently in a castle somewhere right now except that I happen to find you endlessly attractive and fascinating.”

“Hmm.” Geralt resumed walking. Jaskier noticed with a smirk that his pace had picked up quite a bit. As if he was suddenly in a hurry to be somewhere.

“Hum dismissively all you like, sir, but you’re still carrying me back to your cabin to ravish me senseless, are you not?”

“Ravish may be the wrong word for what I’d like to do to you, but you do look rather tempting.”

“Thank you. I put a lot of effort into this ensemble.”

“You’re a calculating little nymph, aren’t you?”

“No, of course not. I only managed to secure a bunk aboard the Kaer Morhen and wrap its infamous captain around my finger in less than a month. I am but a silly nobleman with excellent dexterity and a penchant for climbing.”

“Lambert was right to call you a minx.”

“He does love that nickname.”

“It’s not an endearment.”

“Whatever.” The ground shifted and Jaskier knew they were making their way up the gangplank and back onto the ship. This was the part he’d been waiting for! Geralt kicked in his cabin door and stepped inside, turning to close and lock it behind them. Jaskier wriggled impatiently. “Set me down!”

“Hmm, no. I rather like the view from here.”

“Excuse me?”

Geralt gave him a gentle smack on the ass, almost a pat really, and huffed out a laugh at Jaskier’s offended noise. “You’ve been an awful lot of trouble for a nobleman and a captive.”

“I’m barely a captive, Geralt. Give it up already.”

“You haven’t signed the book.” He set Jaskier back on his feet and looped his arms around the younger man’s waist to pull him close. “You’re still a captive until you swear on the book and sign your name next to the others. Then you’ll be part of my crew.”

“I have yet to negotiate for my shares,” the brunette stated. He tilted his chin back, baring his neck slightly and offering Geralt his ale-damp lips. “Ten crowns after every capture and I get to sleep in here with you. That sounds fair.”

“You’re a good worker. Seven crowns, you can sleep in here with me, and you can borrow my bandannas whenever you want.”

“Even the red one?”

“Especially the red one.”

Jaskier’s soft pink mouth brushed against the pirate’s as he murmured his answer: “Deal.”

Geralt’s lips crashed against Jaskier’s with the strength of a wave hitting the side of his ship in a maelstrom. The Captain’s mouth was so warm and his lips moved against the younger man’s with almost frightening determination. As if he was trying to prove himself. His arms were strong around the nobleman’s lower back and his white hair brushed deliciously against the skin of Jaskier’s neck.

“You’ve bewitched me, body and soul.”

“Oh, Geralt,” the younger man sighed, opening his mouth to let the other in. I never thought the word ‘plunder’ could apply to kissing but here I stand, corrected by experience yet again. The White Wolf of the Seven Seas pulled away, made breathless by a young and foolish nobleman in search of adventure.

“I’m not a siren, you know. Not even a little. My family’s estate is landlocked.”

Geralt’s fingers rose from his waist and brushed against his cheekbone reverently. Those amber eyes, so cold and focused when he shouted orders or intimidated a merchant captain, were looking down at Jaskier with such devoted tenderness. The ex-noble felt his heart fill anew and double in size. There wasn’t enough room in his body to hold all of this feeling.

“Kiss me again, Captain. Take me to bed.”

“You’re too good at tempting me. You must be evil.”

“I assure you,” Jaskier smirked, ripping Geralt’s shirt over his head in one smooth movement. “I am.”

3K notes · View notes

onyxheartbeat · 3 years

Text

Dear HIM/Ville Valo fans,

this is a long post but I must discuss this.

________

I came across this interview of Kat Von D from a few days ago. Before I get into my thoughts, below is a passage from her old book “Go Big or Go Home” which you may or may not have read. She wrote about Ville:

________

“I only knew his music, and I loved it on first listen. It was dark and it was beautiful. It was metal and it was poetry. It was love loaded into a gun, and I wondered about the man behind the songs. Two years later, our paths crossed, and like the majority of the connections I’ve made in life, tattooing brought us together. Through our first tattoo sessions, we began to get to know each other. For the next few years, I just thought of him as my friend from overseas, and that was all. Then, after knowing him for six years, something changed. It could have been the wine, the music, or the moon. Most likely it was just perfect timing. Just one kiss, and he changed my world. We were both sad back then, and lost. I was depressed, having finally ended a marriage that had been doomed from the beginning. I was also dealing with the pressures of filming a television show, which was totally new to me - and drinking my way blindly through it all. His story mirrored mine, and he had been feeling just as low. We had been waiting for something to happen, for someone or something to come along and save us from ourselves. And when it suddenly seemed that that someone was each other, it took us both by surprise. We shared darkness, and doing that bought light back into our somber worlds: for once, we didn’t feel alone.He’s the reason why I wanted to write music to begin with - and learn to sing. I remember the exact moment I made up my mind about making music. It was something I felt I needed to do, not for any reason other than a way to respond to him. It didn’t matter if the songs I’d write never saw the light of day, as long as he was able to listen to my music, my message to him. He had told me to look for a package at my door step, prefacing the delivery of the contents, his new album, saying, “These are all of the things that are easier sung than said.”I knew what he meant, but never imagined that each song would be filled with direct messages to me. I put the album on, and the music rushed out of the speakers and filled my house. His voice rang all around, making it’s way to the core of my heart with every word he sang. As cryptic as those lyrics may have been for anyone else, I knew exactly what each word meant and recognized every event and place he referred to. The songs were so beautiful, I just wished so badly that he could have said everything out loud just once to me. How should I respond to something like this? Where do I even start?The first time I saw him after I got sober, he was in town working on music. We sat in my office at the shop until the late hours of the night, talking and catching up about everything - music, home, art and work. Did we talk about love? No. We constantly danced around our past instead. What happened to us? I couldn’t find the courage to ask because I was scared of the answer I already knew. We decided to draw, with pencils and paper in front of us, we sat at opposite ends of the table. He pulled my three-minute timer from one of the nearby shelves, and placed it at the center of the table. He suggested we draw each other, and I was game. With a flip of the hourglass, the grains of sand moved from one vessel to the other, and we began.Sketching these timed portraits forced us to stare at each other, making it practically impossible to focus on the drawing itself. I had almost forgotten how beautiful his face was. He has a combination of eyes, lips, and a darkness to his looks that makes him look almost otherworldly. With him, I felt like I was at the center of an orderly, tranquil, magnificent universe. For those short three minutes, there were no questions about life or purpose. It was as if we never needed any more from each other than this.Like all people, I’ve suffered from love sickness and tasted the pain of love. The theatrical director of my mind, the one who staged all these versions of him and my life with him, seemed to be unaffected by reason. I was finding myself constantly day dreaming of the past.His eyes, his hands, his crooked smile - I’d ruminate over his features. Things he said. Things he did. Things he wrote. Things he drew. Things he sang. Over and over again, I’d sift through these images and memories as if they somehow contained the answer to my prayers. But I was living with a long-age memory of him; living so far away from the present moment.If we had spoken about what we were or what we thought we were, back when we got sober, I wouldn’t have been so confused, wandering what if, and writing the rest of our story in my mind. What did I expect? For him to magically not hear about me being in a relationship? And to not be bothered by it? If only he would have asked….. I would have….. If we could have only talked….. then things would be….. if we allowed ourselves to transform our fears of being open, vulnerable, then, I’d convince myself, we would be together. I realized that none of that mattered now. If I wanted to be free of this unrequited longing, I would have to make peace with the past and finally let it go. There was no way around it. But did I want to be free of it? - and him?I listened to one of his songs the other day. Out of all the songs he wrote on that album, this one was the most direct. He sings my name in the chorus. By the time the song is over, I’ve felt a range of emotions - I’m sad but happy, frustrated but calm. He sings about how I alone bring him to a place of stillness and peace within when we are together. What a victorious feeling - to enter into a place with him where no one else has been. To be able to bring goodness to and draw it out of someone. Those sweet thoughts were interrupted by an e-mail from him. Impeccable timing as always. It’s just a short note, letting me now he’s somewhere out there, thinking of me. He ends the message by calling me “Star Face” - his pet name for me from long ago that no one else uses. At that moment, I loathe him for it. I loathe him because I love him. Sometimes it feels like it would be so much easier to walk away from this if he’d just tell me that he hates me, that he wants nothing to do with me. But instead he calls me “Star Face.” There is no way he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s not letting go, either.‘Ultimately, it is the desire, not the desired, that we love.’The silver plane hurtled over Newfoundland, over the Labrador sea. Someone told me I might see the northern lights as I fly east and north, but I wouldn’t have noticed as I was deep in writing the letter that I had already mentally composed long before I decided to make this trip to see him over New Year’s Day. I didn’t have to edit myself this time, I knew exactly what the letter would say.I reread the note to myself before sealing the envelope. Then I drew out the first letter of his name in pencil on the front. What a beautiful letter it was, probably my favorite out of the entire alphabet. A letter I was so used to writing myself. With ease the swirls and curves of each arch seemed to flow from my heart, my mind’s eye, drawn in and through my arms to my hands, releasing themselves onto the pale ivory paper envelope. My plane landed soon after.I had missed this country, I had missed him, too. I wondered how time had treated him ,for it had been a few years since I had last seen him. I wondered if I still had the ability to quiet his heart when he was feeling manic. He always said I had a way of doing that when I was near. And I wondered if he even needed me in that way anymore.When we met up, he looked just as beautiful as the day we saw each other for the first time, almost ten years before. And as if no time had passed, we started right where we left off - hours flew by in the comfort of each other’s presence. Talking. Catching up.He asked if I was getting sleepy, and my attempt at concealing the tiredness was transparent. I looked at the clock; maybe it was the jet lag or the clock hands pointing to midnight, but I knew it was time to say good-bye. Reluctantly, we both stood up and tried our best to part ways. As good as it felt to be near him again, I gave him the letter I had written letting him know that I was letting the nation of us go. He took the sealed envelope, and then I watched him walk away for what I assumed would be the last time.My heart didn’t belong locked up in a tower across the ocean from my home. It belonged in my chest, beating, living, feeling, sometimes hurting, but always loving. I deserved to be free, and understanding and needing that more than a dream, I was finally able to let him go.”

_________

Now, let me start by saying, I’ve never understood this and I still don’t. I’ve had that passage saved in my drafts for years because I keep almost anything pertaining to Ville.

I’ve been a HIM fan since I was about 15 years old, and have followed Ville’s life and work closely. The friendship between them was always apparent to HIM fans in those days, because we saw her in photos with the band often. I used to watch Miami Ink and LA Ink as regularly as pretty much anyone in those days, and I remember when this particular passage of her book was brought to light, the HIM fan base read it and we all had our thoughts. We were all aware of Screamworks being written about Kat (it’s obvious in the lyrics of the album) even though Ville never specifically said Kat’s name when asked about it in interviews.

I remember being baffled back when we as HIM fans discovered this passage from the book. I couldn’t imagine not making that relationship work if it was true love. I’m a bit biased because I adore Ville and he’s like a dream to me, but I just couldn’t understand it. It seemed like she took the relationship for granted or she didn’t love him enough to make it work; but I digress. I get it; love and relationships are complex.

Still, flash forward to this recent interview (the screenshot), she says it was unrequited love, and I’m still not understanding it. Why release all the songs now? Why didn’t she make it work if it was true love? Who is she trying to say was the one not reciprocating (as the word “unrequited” suggests) in the relationship? I don’t understand any of it. More than anything, I’ve had so many questions that I wish I could ask Ville about it all because he only spoke briefly about it all, and it was always rather cryptic.

I’m only writing this as a HIM fan, and because I love Ville and his lyrics on Screamworks so, so much (it’s an extremely underrated album in the HIM discography, in my opinion) so I’m letting any fellow HIM lovers know she wrote an album in response to it, in case you’re interested. I haven’t followed Kat or her work in many years, so I don’t know what to make of all this, but it’s always been extremely apparent to me when listening to Screamworks that a lot of heart went into it and even pain, not that his lyrics on other albums aren’t like that too, but I felt it more on Screamworks. I feel that Ville was the one who was truly heartbroken.

You all probably know from following my blog that I’m obsessed with love and unrequited love. Any romantic stories, bittersweet letters, heartbreak, longing etc. is just my favorite thing in the world so please excuse the long post, haha.

#ville valo #him #h.i.m.#h.i.m #him band #screamworks #his infernal majesty

83 notes · View notes

littlefreya · 4 years

Text

Penny Dreadful

Summary: Sherlock is cold, troubled and upset, his mind is fixed on cracking an unsolved murder. It’s the worst time to disturb him. But his hot-blooded little succubus wants to drag him into sin.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x OFC (First-person POV)

Word count: 2.5K

Warning: 18+, smut, teasing, bratty behaviour, ass-smacking with a cane, slight cane play, primal play, unprotected rough sex, biting, slight size kink, MaleDom, drug use. Lots of curly hair descriptions.

A/N: Not canon to books Sherlock, obviously, but seeing the photos and teaser Henry as Sherlock just sets up the vibe. So I had to. Many thanks to my beta @agniavateira !! Sorry for the ugly cover art :D.

Title: Penny Dreadful

Sherlock’s study was a bleak, musky chamber deprived of heat, notwithstanding the many candles that burnt at every corner. Perhaps it was the pristine heaps of snow that piled on the ledge of the window, or maybe it was his sullen mood that gave the room a sense of icy wilderness.

Fumes rose from his mouth, vaping into the air. The tawny light kissed his thick mane of luscious, chocolate curls while he stood at the fore of his desk and leered at some parchments that troubled his brilliant mind for whatever reason.

Fist seizing the golden tip of his cane, his thumb stroked the engravings that embellished the metal. Cases that he couldn’t crack often left him frustrated to the point of madness. Those wicked, sly obsessions made him even more irresistible.

My nails bit into the wooden doorframe. Consumed by yearning, a blaze licked up my soul with its monstrous tongue. I often wondered how something so pure as love could be dangerous, to which Sherlock would reply,

“Love is the greatest villain of them all.”

Unlike him, I didn’t care for evil.

The detective unclipped the small chain he kept fastened to his vest and opened the silver locket, gathering a wisp of white powder on the tip of his pinky finger and pressed it to his nostrils. A small grunt escaped him, his eyes turning glassy. The “fairy dust” tended to sharpen his perception and elevate his stamina.

I dropped to my knees at his sight, crawling on the floor. The black silks of my dress made a brushing noise as it dragged on the Persian carpet; my breasts peeked as my corset shifted with every move. Sherlock often said we must imagine ourselves as animals once we let desire play our strings.

Accepting my inner wildness, tonight I was a cougar stalking her prey.

By nature, his senses were sharp as blades, though the substance that streamed through his veins made a more heightened grip of the reality that surrounded him. He noticed and yet ignored me, letting his hot-blooded harlot crave for his attention.

If I was to be the feline predator, Sherlock was the hunter who pursued me for sport. An unfair game, yet nevertheless my favourite.

Bathing in my own little fountain of mischief, I allowed my fingers to sneak toward his cane, brushing up and down the mahogany in slow, languid motion. My slender digits licked along the shaft and my bosom followed, pressing against the hardwood. I dragged myself up slightly to glimpse at my master from below: my Sherlock, always a sight for a famished girl; a colossus, intimidating, and breathtaking. Like a moth to a flame, I inched closer dazed by the light, wanting to bask in its radiance.

The muscle in his cheek tensed, thick brows furrowing. A little squared wrinkle appeared above the bridge of his nose as he brushed through his dark locks with agitation.

“What ills that glorious mind of yours?” I hummed, playful fingertips climbing further up at the length of his cane.

“Something I can’t grasp,” he spat, not giving me the time of day. But I knew he noticed every detail of my wanton behaviour, it was evident by the way his breath swiftly became heavier. Sherlock might have solved crimes by profession, but all women were natural detectives; evolution granted us with a definite survival instinct, learning to read men between the shadows.

“You can possess me,” I offered, fingers scraping over his thumb as it pressed onto the cane’s golden tip. My voice dropped to a whisper while my hand left the cane in favour of his thigh. The muscle flexed and twitched under my sinful touch, the fabric of his breeches stretched as his cock grew with its natural need to fulfil the wet, convulsing void in me.

“You’re distracting me,” he warned, voice low and stern. His lashes hardly even fluttered to my direction.

Every delicate little hair stood up at the sound of alarm yet instead, I inhaled the soot of peril, allowing my hand to travel further and meet his hungry girth. It rose to my touch with gratitude, flinching even harder at the clutch of my claws. The flavour of desire was honey and salt on the tip of my tongue.

The low animalistic vibration of his voice wavered through his solid form. I felt it shudder all the way down to his swelling cock. A cautious man, Sherlock was measured and forbearing to a point that made me wonder if he even liked women at all before we fell into the vicious pit of decadence and violent delights.

It was the contrary that was true: Sherlock loved women very much, his desires were simply… of a certain quality.

His groin was warm and firm against my cheek. The crystalline-blue glare finally graced me with a sight so brooding my bones clattered.

“Later, I need to work.” By the drop of his voice, I knew there won’t be a third warning.

“Later, Later…” I taunted, rolling my chin over his aching need. “All work and no play…”

The gasp that pushed out of my lungs nearly whisked the candles off as Sherlock hauled me up by his hand and bent me over the desk.

“Should I teach you how to respect my time?” He snarled, throwing the skirts of my dress over my head like a cape of the midnight sky. Stars collapsed under my skin at the sensation of his touch exploring the curve of my bare ass. Talons ruptured the tiny blood vessels, squeezing with the affirmation of his ownership.

“No undergarments?” Sherlock growled dangerously while his thumb brushed over my silken entrance, toying with the rich elixir and smearing it further down my anticipating petals. I answered with a deep moan, stretching on this desk with a succumbing plea.

“You came here aimed at disturbing me while I work.”

Settling onto the surface of the desk, I reached forth one arm lazily and chuckled. “You are a great detective, I… oh!”

Something cold and solid caressed my dripping lips, driving between them in slow, calculated strokes. Throwing my head over my shoulder, I noticed Sherlock holding his cane against my sacred cove, staring at it as if I was yet another piece of evidence to be explored. The golden arched-tip pushed-slightly between my petals and entered just enough to make me hiss. For a mere second I wondered if he was going to fuck me using nothing but his cane.

“Look away; this is going to hurt.”

I hardly had time to protest when the first smack hit the pillow of my cheek. A wheeze of disgrace shot from my throat, husky and embarrassing, but not as degrading as the sting the metal left at my burning backside.

“Bad girl,” Sherlock ticked his tongue and lifted the cane midway in the air, a flare of noxious desire bursting in his pale-blue orbs. This time I turned away and shut my eyes, gripping the edge of the desk until my knuckles turned dead-white. If only it did anything to dull the pain, the sting was even more prominent, shooting all the way up to my spine where it coiled and forced a strident yip from my clamped lips.

Yet the throb in my cunt was unmissable.

Sherlock knew very well that the hurt allied with pleasure, enhancing it even, like his powdery magic dust.

Another smack and my nails scratched at the wood. Like a sinner nun indulging her own beating, I rode the waves of pain as they broke onto shores abundant with pleasure. There were hidden cracks in our public figure, the place where I burnt and Sherlock ascended as we pried our claws into mortal deadly sins. My senses rose to conflict with every smack and Sherlock took joy in every involuntary squirm of my body.

Tongue pressed between his lips, he hummed as he admired his handiwork, painting my ass in obscene hues of violence. “Had enough? Or want to see which will break first, the rod or your arrogance?” Sherlock chided and pinched my sore cheek to further increase the pain.

Embers whispered beneath my flesh, my legs jolted from the intense beating and by god, the trickle of my juices rolling down the back of my thighs made even a sultry woman such as myself drown in white shame.

Sherlock’s breath was a heavy guttural waft. His cane dropped to the floor and I heard the sound of metal clicking as he fumbled with his belt. I would be damned if I let him fuck me from behind. To have those eyes look away as he entered me was a vice I wouldn’t stand.

“No!” I yelled, bracing on my wobbly elbows as much as I could and turned to face him.

Sherlock’s glare widened, a chill of ice blew through his eyes and his pupils dilated like a crazed feline. “You’re saying no to me?”

“Yes!” I heaved and reached my hands to cradle his skull, pushing myself against the hardness of his body and forcing my lips on his. My kiss was feral, bruising the plush skin on and around his mouth, nibbling and biting until we tasted iron on our tongues. It was not long before I was shoved against the wall, our mouths still united, sharing one breath.

Or rather stealing it from one another.

We were pleasingly unequal. Sherlock was all iron and stone; a bulky, tall man who could tear me apart with his bare hands. I was a little lush thing, so tender, so easily bruised. Despite his power, the desire to claim the tiny wet hole between my legs was unquenchable, reducing him to a savage thing that spoke in raw inarticulate sounds.

He tore his mouth from mine and swept me up from the ground, hiking the skirts of my dress urgently to expose what he coveted the most. I felt the supple velvety texture of his hardness grind against my thigh, smearing the pearly drops of his arousal onto my skin. We both moaned at the sensation and moved to the rhythm dictated by our most primal instincts.

“You want my cock?” He growled and gnawed his teeth at my neck, biting deep enough to break through the skin. I whined in pain, my voice rising a pitch as I writhed against him to ignite the smallest of frictions and serve the demon of desire in me.

“Fuck me!” I begged, sliding my fingers through the mass of soft curls and tugging them with need.

Answering my plea, Sherlock speared into my unruly cunt, brutally spreading me open like he would tear the petals from a flower. I yipped into his luscious hair, my nails tearing into his nape as his intrusion claimed everything my body had to offer. I always found it odd how my flesh would resist and beg for him at the same time, my succulent canal fighting to push him by instinct yet he only further rutted into me. He reached his hands to my sore ass to squeeze my cheeks apart.

“Such a tight little harlot,” he groaned, engulfed by my garden of mysteries. Moaning so loudly, our duet reverberated through the corridors of the house. His lashes fluttered with ecstasy as he pulled back only to force me down on his imposing cock, attempting to rip through my denial. Or it was to tame me as I clenched around his girth, accepting and resisting him at the same time. I was nothing but a vessel for him to fill, and he did so with a fiery passion, glaring straight to my eyes while thrusting deep and hard into me.

Books fell from the shelves nearby as we battled against the wall, my legs sliding up and down his waist, spreading helplessly in the air until my boots pressed into his arse. One of his hands reached for my corset, tugging on the ludicrous outfit to expose my breast. Ravenous, he licked his bloodstained lips, giving me a stare that made my cunt clutch him harder before he sank his fangs to pierce cavities in my tit.

“No!!!” I cried out and gasped as he thrust deeper to punish me for my protest. His heavy cock hit a spot so deep inside me that tears instantly emerged and fell down my cheeks, the pang bringing through a spasm of odd relief.

Blood and saliva smeared along my cleavage as he dragged his lips further, licking and then kissing every patch he bruised. I moaned breathlessly, throwing my head back against the wall as his nimble fingers surveyed my neck, laying small threats to show me how easy he could simply suspend my very basic need.

But my survival instincts already flew out the window the moment he penetrated me.

His lips hovered above mine as he fucked deep into my body, our cries creating an obscure symphony as he continuously slammed into my hilt, harder and more urgent with every plunge. The tears that fell down my cheeks were tainted with the conflicting aphrodisiac that pain brought through. In that instant I was whole, gratified by the friction created of the collision of our wet organs.

“Do it!” I gasped and nodded through glossy stares, swallowing hard to gesture what he already knew. With a swift snap of his hands, his fingers were bruising on my neck and he slammed into me at a furious pace, giving no care for my broken screams.

Euphoria tore through my soul, crashing like hot waves of eternal fire. I came apart around his thick rod crying for God and Satan at once. Sherlock never slowed down, not even as he felt the tightening of my ring around him. It only made him fuck me harder, burying his face at my collarbone, chasing his own rapture at a punishing speed, grunting like a beast. Finally, he shuddered and pumped me full of his thick, silky milk. The muscles of his behind flexed and he ground his hot load into my warm cavern, making sure I received every drop. My hands reached to squeeze his taut ass as my legs clutched him still, wanting to keep him inside me.

As if he had any intentions of leaving as he moaned and spasmed inside me.

Smoke filled the room as few of the candles died; the scent of ash and the musk of our sex seeped through our noses while we remained entwined, shaking in each other’s grasp. Breathless and damp with sweat, Sherlock lifted his face from my neck and glanced at me looking so vulnerable, almost appearing lost. I moved my trembling hands back to his face, my thumbs caressing his sharp cheeks.

“I know I am harsh…” he murmured, his eyes digging into my heart with nothing but a gaze of despair, “but please don’t ever leave me.”

My face fell at the sound of his words, my lips parting with awe. My detective could solve the most outrageous crimes, and yet he couldn’t realise I was shackled to him for all eternity.

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill fanfiction #sherlock holmes fanfiction #sherlock holmes x ofc #henry holmes #sherlock holmes

3K notes · View notes

lixxen · 2 years

Note

Heyo.

Because you are into Miraculous Ladybug, I was wondering if I could share/tag you in this MLB song I wrote? And if you have any type of creative stuff such as art or fics, we could have a look/share? ^_^

Sure!

I think the only things I have are one offs (or ideas) I started and never finished on AO3 then an actual story and whole AU I had written for AO3. I don't like sharing my art on here because I post it on other platforms that aren't connected to this account

I generally don't post my AO3 stuff here and my Tumblr stuff on AO3 simply because I have two different styles and content for each

generally my out of pocket shit and x readers go on Tumblr

Here is the general basis of the AU I made (originally made in 2017):

The AU is called Les Immortels

Kwamis are full gods and are literal beings of pure energy and power (which is a reason why cameras don't pick them up)

For the miraculous holders to be able to connect to them, they need the miraculous to act as an adapter almost

The miraculous holders become one with the kwami while transformed and their bodies are literal beacons of magic and energy (which is why the cloaking magic works so well)

To be able to harness power for more than a few uses, the bodies of the miraculous holders slowly become immortal and physically start to change biologically (think of this as their bodies changing to be able to withstand extreme exposure and not dying after long exposure. They become a full immortal once they're adults, so about 19-25 depending on the person)

This also means their bodies start to absorb the energy and keep some of it after they're detransformed. They go through changed after about a year of use, since that is about the limit of being able to use them without damage (this means that their bodies are immortal, their bodies heal quickly, and they receive some powers while detransformed. Think of being radiated after touching nuclear waste)

They are literal vessels for gods and demi-gods (if you'd like to call them that).

They also take on traits of the kwami or animal the kwami are based off (Chat Noir acts more cat like and loves physical affection, Ladybug likes sweets and gets sluggish in the cold, Queen Bee likes to have a "hive" and loves flowers etc)

All of the past miraculous holders are immortal and most have mortal children

reincarnation and soulmates are also in this

In the beginning, the gods split souls into two. It formed two new souls, but they weren’t whole unless they had the second half. They could only be reincarnated if their second half was ready to pass into their new life. The souls only remember past lives when they're dead and trying to move on

Marinette is a reincarnation of the first Ladybug's child

Marinette and Adrian are soulmates. Every single Ladybug and Chat Noir are soulmates

There are ways to strip holders of their immortality and powers

All holders have an "energy" that they can feel coming from each other. It helps them identify each other and if they're actual holders or someone who has used it a few times. Once the changes start in the holder, they can feel them. The weaker the connection to the Kwami the holder has, the weaker the energy is. It is the literal energy of the Kwami's inside of the holder that they absorb

It is confirmed that Ladybug always accepts the changed and gets them before Chat Noir, but this time around Adrian got the changes first since he took to it without any worries. Adrian also knows about Marinette being Ladybug first

Felix is not related to Adrian in this; his name is Felix Decuir. He was the Chat Noir before Adrian alongside Bridgette (They're only 80 years old and look in their 20's. They had to give up their miraculous due to an unnamed safety issue)

Master Fu keeps the holders updated with who has the miraculous, so they all know who the current holders are. There are 6 immortals per miraculous, not including Adrian and Marinette. There are two dead holders. (I believe that there are a few missing for the butterfly and peacock due to them going missing)

Aya and Hakai are the original Ladybug and Chat Noir. They held their miraculous for a thousand years (Aya looks 19)

When Adrian and Marinette took the miraculous, Bridgette went missing. She went on a mission to find Hawkmoth, got a lead, then disappeared. The original holders end up figuring out about Gabriel and Nathalie

The original holders have more authority over the Guardian and they can overrule his word

It is briefly noted that Marinette and Adrian have flip phones specifically for heroics and contact at LB & CN

Since it was written when Alya, Nino, and Chloe were the only ones who had miraculous, they're the other holders. Chloe never goes bad and she keeps her miraculous. They all become good friends

There used to be a guardian for each miraculous holder. They are not immortal, but have elongated life spans. Master Fu is the only remaining guardian. Fu is a holder and guardian, so he has some powers. He just doesn't have immortality and is slightly odd. The guardians are oath bound and that is what keeps them alive for longer. Since he is the final one, he has an oath for all of them and that is why he has lived for so long.

It is briefly mentioned that the past holders are called Warenai, but it isn't used much

Noted original holders: Valerie, Nana (Peacock), Iida, Kaho (Turtle), Maya (Goat). It is noted that most of the original were Chinese or Japanese

Most of the original holders took offense and great anger towards Hawkmoth and Mayura; as Nana felt Emilie's fall and the miraculous break. Most wanted to kill Nathalie and Gabriel, but Nana and Iida put a stop to it.

The Kwagatama allows them to go to a place where they can mentally connect. It is described as "She was laying on the floor, a wet floor. She didn’t actually feel wet, but the ground rippled under her touch and was cool. It was a light blue and around her was a pale blue that glowed slightly." A lot of the holders wear masks to hide themselves from the current holders. It is supposed to reflect the miraculous box and be part of it. Maya and the Goat holders can summon them all there and keep it stable for long periods of time (Their minds are there, but their bodies are not)

It is noted Gabriel has a butterfly garden in his lair for the Akumas

Gabriel and Nathalie also aren't good with hand to hand combat, which is why they don't come out to fight

This is what I gathered from what I have public. I don't have a lot of the notes anymore. This doesn't include how a lot of the new characters look or act

A lot is missing tbh, so if you want to hear more just ask!

#asking matt #miraculous ladybug #ladybug #chat noir #au #ladybug and chat noir #fuck #thats my talking tag sorry

7 notes · View notes

psychotakublabs · 3 years

Text

There have been theories going around that Philip Wittebane, a human who lived in the Demon Realm before Luz, could be Emperor Belos. The evidence seems to be his voice being similar to Belos, Belos’s knowledge of the portal, and his hair resembling Belos’s hair in one of Dana’s countdown art (there could be more evidence but these seem to be the main ones). However, there are a few reasons as to why Belos and Philip are not the same person. These are just my thoughts and theories and I am not 100% discrediting Belos is Philip theory.

Philip Wittebane

In “Keeping Up A-Fear-ances” we got information from Gwendolyn about Philip. He came to the Demon Realm from a substance called Titan’s Blood that is rare and powerful enough to cause leaks between realms. He was living in Bonesborough until he suddenly vanished but not before leaving something in the library. We find out that something was Philip’s diary in “Through the Looking Glass Ruins”. From Luz’s research, Philip seems to be from the 1600s which coincides with Gwendolyn’s great grandmother’s story. Philip could even be older than great grandma Clawthorne as the 1600s are over 400 years ago, meaning this was a tale passed through the ages. From the echo mouse’s screening of Philip’s journal, Philip donated the journal to the library for others to see. Although he states the Demon Realm as horrifying, he is fascinated by this world. He wants to create a portal to the Human Realm to go back home and for other humans to see the Demon Realm. He seems to have been living on the Boiling Isles for some time and may have created the portal. From the journal, we see drawings that have been partially ripped out from the echo mouse that look like a circle and bone, which could entail that he may have studied Glyph magic like Luz.

Emperor Belos

From “Young Blood, Old Souls”, Emperor Belos suddenly arrived over 50 years ago and was on a crusade as a messenger of the Titan. He deemed himself the only being to speak to the Titan and that magic was used wrong and wild magic causes chaos. He ascended to the throne and has ruled since that time. Belos is the most powerful witch on the Boiling Isles and created the current Coven and magic system. Rules over the Isles with fear and an iron fist. Belos uses technology as his source of “magic” and uses Palisman magic to revive/recharge himself. He stops any potential threats against his reign either by destroying it or attaining it. Emperor Belos wants his hands on the portal for something known as “The Day of Unity” and is creating something big. In Season 2, he is becoming more active but remains hidden from his true goal and identity.

Low Possibility of Philip and Belos Being the Same Person

Diary Entry

From the way Philip speaks in the diary, he seems more fascinated by the Demon Realm than afraid. He stated the Boiling Isles is so horrifying it’s fantastic and wants others to see the realm by finding a way to build the portal. From the shredded remains of the diary, we can see 2 drawings: a bone with a circle etched into it and a circle with another circle through it. This suggests Philip may have studied Glyphs like Luz. He does want to create a portal to go back home but also wants to make one so others can witness the wonderful world of the Demon Realm. From the way he presents himself, it seems he may have been a weirdo much like Luz, embracing the chaotic yet intriguing world of the Boiling Isles, and had good intentions of building a portal.

Day of Unity

Emperor Belos is about conformity, control, and fear when ruling the Boiling Isles. He rewrites history to fit his narrative, seizes or destroys any threats against him, separates magic using a coven system and his title, and punishes those who do not conform. However, he seems to have a sinister plan called “The Day of Unity”. It is not clear what this plan is. All we know is he needs the portal to access the Human Realm and is building an even larger portal gate for something big. Belos went to great lengths to attain it and is knowledgeable about it. The portal is not going to be used for invasion and there have been many theories circulating about what “The Day of Unity” is but we still have no idea what it is.

Both personalities and intentions of using the portal are different. Philip seems to enjoy the chaotic nature of the Boiling Isles and documents his findings/journey. He even donates his diary so others can witness his journey. Although it’s only the first entry and we will know more information in future episodes, it seems Philip was more of an eccentric researcher who wants to share the wonders of the Boiling Isles to others as well as go home. Belos wants control and conformity and despises wild magic despite it being a gift from the Titan. He imprisons anyone who does not follow his “laws” and wants the portal for some type of sinister plan. Belos is manipulative and secretive. He is a dictator who rules with an iron fist and fear. Both are somewhat opposite in terms of personality. In fact, I’d say Philip is like Luz. The only commonality they have is using the portal to access the Human Realm for some goal. There is a theory by Charles J. Thomas (“Emperor Belos is a Possessed Human”) states that Belos is a human possessed by another entity we don't know yet. It could be that Philip may have stumbled across this being and got taken over. So technically Belos is not Philip but is something inhabiting Philip and using him as a vessel.

Portal

From the journal, we can assume Philip made the portal. Eda did say it was very old when she found it and Philip described his journal as a guide on how to create one. Belos seems to be knowledgeable about the portal and wants to attain it. However, he did not know where the portal was before Eda found it. If he is a powerful witch, he could have easily gotten it from Eda by force, but waited for Luz to hand it over. Not only that but Philip donated his journal to the library where he could have made a portal himself but he didn’t. If Emperor Belos and Philip were the same person, Belos would have known where the portal was or know how to build a new one. There are two explanations as to why Belos doesn’t know and could still be Philip. 1) If Philip is possessed and becomes Belos, his memories could either be protected by Philip himself or deteriorated from the possession. 2) There was another party who took the portal and hid it from Belos which is why he didn’t know where it was. It could be both.

Age

Belos came into power around 50 years ago. Since witches and humans age the same, that would roughly make him roughly in his 70s. Philip was in the Boiling Isles in the 1600s, which is at least 400 years before Belos was even born. Although Dana did state that witches and demons can prolong their life, it is unclear if those tactics work on humans. There is also the factor that Philip suddenly vanished 400 years ago and Belos suddenly appeared over 50 years ago. It doesn’t add up. The possibility of prolonging his life over 400 years is magic, but if that were the case there would have been no need to search for the flower of eternal youth in “Sense and Insensitivity”. It is possible he is using Palisman magic to prolong his life. Another possibility is the possession or curse Philip is under ages him differently but at a cost of losing his human form from time to time.

This doesn’t mean Belos and Philip are not related somehow or refutes the “Belos is a human” theory. Both of them seem to be inventors as Philip made the portal and Belos created his staff and uses technology rather than magic. Belos could still be human because he doesn’t use magic like everyone else and he is very cautious at hiding his identity and past. He could be a descendant of Philip which is why he knows so much about the portal. Belos could also be another human with non blood relation to Philip but came upon his findings. Philip did want to share his knowledge and adventures of the Demon Realm with other humans and it could be possible, he told others from the portal. The human may have had other intentions Philip or others did not agree with and was trapped in the Boiling Isles. This could be the reason for “Day of Unity”. There is also a possibility Belos is not human. There is that mural with King fighting a giant monster. The head of said monster is destroyed, so we have no idea what it looks like. This is suspicious because Belos hid the island’s existence and having the head missing from the mural indicates it is related to Belos somehow. Belos could be that mural monster hiding as a witch or possessing a human for it’s plan. Belos and Philip are still a mystery to us and we won’t know more until future episodes come out. What do you guys think? Do you think Philip and Belos are the same person or two different people? Is Belos a human? Does the mural monster have anything to do with “Day of Unity”? Please let me know what you guys think I love hearing any feedback on who these two could be!

#the owl house #toh #toh philip #philip wittebane #toh spoilers #the owl house season 2 #through the looking glass ruins #toh luz #luz noceda #toh belos #emperor belos #belos is a human #toh theory #toh discussion #day of unity #toh portal

30 notes · View notes