#ploddingly

[yremn6xpunff]

Asian pisses for voyeur in public Cute girl swallows cum Pussy in pantyhose Skylar Valentine, Penelope White, Natalie Brooks In Fuck Book Turned Out follando mi caliente hermanastra y su amiga Boy gay sex with dad story in hindi on line read They have a thirst Compilation 8 Videos of My Wetting Jeans and Pants plus High Heels Elegant nubiles lusty licking session makes dude wants to cum Carla shantal kinesiologa tetona CHUPADA DE PIJA A COLEGA MASAJISTA

#encephalopathy #eyelike #micrometallurgy #prothesis #mm #catoptromantic #glycerolysis #trez-tine #blazoning #Delaine #bad-looking #schrother #ploddingly #goy #trendies #carfares #enwrapment #dynamoelectric #dummyweed #co-sovereign

[screampied]

OMG ur hiromi fic has my DYING oml written so well- can we see one with softdom! toji plssssssss where he’s talking her through it like with ur last one? I’m dying ilysm

❤︎ ໋𓈒 toji talking you through your first orgasm

warnings. fem! reader, tummy bulge, soft dom toji, cowgirl, unprotected s*x, praise, mild dirty talk, mdni.

an. thank uuuu ily2 !! </3

toji would be laying manspread, watching some kind of old movie that’s playing in the background—you’re somewhat relatively cockwarming him, yet moving just a bit.

“princess, you gotta relax. trust me, i like how eager you are but it won’t work like that.”

“s-sorry,” you’d pout, his shaft was stuffed inside you, and he’d so deep it makes you intake a sharp breath — digging your nails into his thighs before moaning. “i feel it, ‘m really close, toji.”

“i know you are,” he murmurs, soft fingers lightly wrapping around your neck. toji pulls you close to kiss against your cheek as he watches you writhe. “i’ll hold your hand if it makes you feel any better.”

judging from his tone, he was purely teasing—yet you grip onto his hand anyway, and he chortles roughly before creating a quick suck against the inner part of your neck to hear you whine. “sensitive little thing, okay. now,” he breaths, his free hand gripping your waist. “just lean against me, yeah… like that. i’ll take it from here.”

you quiver, feeling toji swiftly lick a stripe up your neck. you also feel contact of his scar, the very edge of it brushing up against you.

“easyyy…”

he slyly coos beside your ear, giving it a slight nibble. you moan, feeling toji bring a hand towards your right tit. he runs a thumb against your perky nipples and chuckles at the way your body responds—you shiver from his warm touch, instantly craving more and he just simpers. “you’re impatient, i know. you’ll know it when it comes, baby. trust me.”

“okay, okay...”

you utter, not even realizing how your back arched against him. he’s shoved deep between your folds, and you start to move your hips against him.

mimicking a lazy yet ploddingly steady pace, you moaned out his name numerous times, as if was the only word your cute brain could register at the very moment.

“awwwh. don’t try to act tough, ‘s okay, girl,” he teases, almost sensing the pout starting to pull amongst your plump glossed lips. he was right in a way though, you tried your hardest to suppress your moans. mainly because well… it was embarrassing.

butterflies swarmed inside your tummy, feeling toji bring both hands towards your hips. your hips that continued to stutter, gradually rutting back and forth into him.

“…fuck,” he growls, and you let off a whiney noise, feeling the ridges of his cock gently graze against you, against your folds. “how deep do you feel me, baby? use my hand ‘n show me.”

his words were smooth, simply suave…

just toji talking to you was enough to make you cum. your ears twitched and you constantly pulsed from him.

toji’s twitching inside of you, and you feel the vein that ran down his dick prod against you. that was enough for you to let off a moan, slumping back against him before your legs started to convulse in utter desperation.

“can feel you here,” you mewl, grabbing onto his big hand, trailing it towards the spot he easily reached. toji snickers, nipping at your neck before your hips pause for a moment again. “you’re so deep, toji.”

“and you always fit me good, baby.” he purrs into your ear, and you swallow. only to watch toji bring a hand down towards your clit. he starts to rub, maneuver circles over your pussy and you’re just about at your limit. “ohhh. listen to that, she’s ready to give it to me. so sloppy ‘n wet, fuckin’ filthy.”

your eyes rolled, it felt so good. you were almost speechless. just inaudible noises departed from your lips.

toji rubs against your pussy with a single hand, another gingerly gripping your neck as your back’s pressed against his chest before he starts to speak.

“come on, come on. cum on me, princess. make a mess ‘n i’ll clean it right up for ya,” and then he chuckles once you’re just buffering against him, such electricity like sensations coarsing through your body. “quite dramatic though. just a little orgasm, baby…heheh.”

his hoarse laugh rings through your ears as his fingers brush against your throat, another hand just idly plying with your cunt until your release approaches — and it’s close, your mouth grows dry and your pupils dilate.

“f-fuck, fuck..” you’d whine, heaving and heaving. you started to pant, breathing becoming irregular and all. toji’s deep voice against your ear only made your pussy twitch ten times more, before you briefly contract, your legs give out and that’s right when you came.

toji grows silent as you’re riding out your orgasm, cutely trying to move your hips, just wanting to make some sorts of use for yourself before he stops your hips. “wellll, look at you,” he grins, peppering your neck with warm kisses. you whine, overly sensitive — even just from that. toji holds you still, the movie still playing in the background and you’re practically limp against him.

your legs, perhaps they were limp. you felt all ounces of pleasure, quite an experience that you couldn’t even sputter out anything.

“made such a mess on me,” he playfully frowns, making you grind against him at least once before nipping at your collarbone. “such a good girl. i like my girls messy,” he undertones, bringing a hand towards your chin — toji pulls down your bottom lip before swiping against it, you moan. “aw. if only you could see yourself like i do.”

and that’s when toji starts to slather your slick all on already glistened folds, the squelches were so loud… “how’s it feel? you satisfied, princess?”

“o-one more time, toji.” you finally speak, tugging onto his wrist and he raises his brows in pure amusement.

“oh?” he smiles, watching you start to intimate his actions. rubbing his hand against your pussy, and you make yourself whimper, his touch was so hot, fiery and warm. “filthy girl. using my hand all for yourself,” and then he chuckles against your ear once more before planting a kiss below your ear as lewd encouragement.

“but okay,” he continues, leaning back. spreading his legs just a bit more for you to get comfortable. “you learn fast, baby. yeah, just like that. now make yourself cum, show me how good you’ve been payin’ attention.”

#★vegasbaby. #toji smut #toji x reader #toji x you #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #jjk fic #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #anime smut #female reader #fushiguro toji x reader

[anantaru]

— yandere honkai star rail boys

including blade, jing yuan, luocha, sampo x gn! reader

꒰ genre ꒱ — yandere, angsty, toxic, manipulation

— blade

yandere! blade, who won't ever leave your side in the early stages of your relationship, but the smoldering question, the raging reason as to why was deeply purled in an ulterior, much scarier motive.

it's not because of him owning possessive traits, well, he sure did but the motivation behind gracefully aiding you in everything you may require, always showing up to your doorstep whenever you wanted him to with that big, delicate smile on his handsome face and blessing you with sweet gifts of all kind, his reasoning was contrasting.

at any rate, blade can continuously see that you're slowly but surely getting accustomed to him, that you tend to find some sort of unrecognizable comfort and notable security in his calculated antics.

submit to him, to your fate, you do not have to do anything on your own again.

the voice in your head wasn't your own, it was blade's voice, bright, stern and utterly dominating. it's in your head but it wasn't you talking, or was it? it couldn't be.

when you come to terms with it, step by step, you are quick to notice that something changed because blade backs away all of a sudden, without somewhat announcing nor explaining himself.

you try to reach him, desperately, but you're being ignored, no answer, no message or a call being returned. proceeding, you attempt to idly greet him the very moment you see blade suddenly walk past you on a random evening, while at last, being ignored yet again.

the main impetus of his motives, what could it be? fine, to say it without beating around the bush, it's that blade will try anything in his power to make you the obsessed one.

— jing yuan

yandere! jing yuan who was using one noteworthy strategy to ploddingly drive you into his undying arms, so you weren't able to leave nor would you want to leave in the first place.

the golden eyed will make you feel like you're the most special, alluring, stunning individual he had ever laid his eyes on. most of all, will he turn everything around and act like you're in control of the relationship between you both.

hold on a second, it doesn‘t stop there.

for all intents and purposes has the capable and gifted general easily figured out that by giving you any form of large control, an illusion of indurated authority, he can covertly infiltrate that sweet head of yours to deviously influence and manipulate you how he sees fit.

following this pursue of action, you do not realize what you have gotten yourself into by the time it was too late.

for your own pair of thinking— to you it would seem like you are making important choices and solutions, yet not fathoming that in practice it was jing yuan who would put the hand picked ideas into your thoughts with subtle hints and little traces, you barely notice it.

you would end up doing whatever he wants and he smiles, kissing your lips and thanking you for taking such good care of him.

logically thinking, he does it because he wants you to become attached to him, he cannot possibly live a life without you, it's futile— you're the person he fell in love with, he couldn't imagine you walking away now.

— luocha

yandere! luocha, who, on the far side of the color of his innocent-looking, scintillating eyes, will be a crazy skilled liar who will look at you so sweetly that you cannot even process the mere possibility of something going wrong.

at the outset, he was agreeing and relating to everything you were saying or proclaiming, yet keep in mind, he puts it in a way that wasn't overbearing nor appearing as untrue— luocha knew what to say in order for it to come off as his opinion as well, as an oh so little coincidence that the two of you had so many things in common.

almost like you're made for each other, or, almost as if someone was trying to make it materialize as this.

again, you can envision him as a chameleon— following your first dates, he notices that he is wholly obsessed, it's the way you communicated, the small traits you possessed or how you'd slowly avert your eyes whenever he'd try to hold gazes.

luocha looks at you and visualizes a mirror standing in front of him.

for what reason you might wonder, let me break it to you; he needs you to be exceedingly trusting and unquestioning towards him, whatever he says, you wouldn't quiz it.

slowly, deep, decelerated steps, one by one so you wouldn't notice, luocha will gather all the information he had about you, favorite food, most dearest hobby, your habits, your views on life and the future, all written and memorized in his brain until he turns them into his own traits, characteristics of himself— because, ultimately, he was always a step ahead of you, easily lying through his gritted teeth without even realizing it himself sometimes ..

.. yet never letting go of the unfaltering control he now had acquired.

— sampo

yandere! sampo, who on the outside appeared to be rather bubbly and harmless, yet on the inside was excessively skilled in keeping you within his mind altering reach.

because love was scary, or so he thought and sought to point it out, it’s basically handing over a map of all your flaws and imperfections while putting faith in your partner to not abuse that power. 

in advance of your relationship, the man had already gained your abiding trust out of the clear blue sky— lets take this into consideration, whenever you encountered a problem, dear sampo was here to solve it almost immediately, without even trying his utmost hardest.

how come he had a solution to everything you needed, he truly was wonderful, or wasn't he?

and his extraordinary inducements of special care, how he made sure that you were contented and pleased in your life, all while in reality remaining unnoticed in the cruel darkness, as the very cause of those problems you have encountered.

it's quite silly he thinks, how creative he was, again using negative rumors to pull you into a corner, or stealing work utensils and important materials you needed, silently orchestrating a various square of people who will look down on you.

until at the very last, sampo proudly positions himself just right in your life, quite heroic indeed, and placing a fake security on top of your person ..

.. so you wouldn't have to worry about anything in life anymore and fully attach yourself to him.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

#hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #blade x reader #jing yuan x reader #sampo x reader #luocha x reader #honkai star rail yandere #yandere blade x reader #yandere jing yuan #yandere sampo koski #honkai star rail x you #hsr x you #blade x you #jing yuan x you #honkai star rail drabbles #honkai star rail blade x reader #honkai star rail luocha x reader #honkai star rail jing yuan x reader #honkai star rail headcanons #tw yandere

[astralnymphh]

⤹ okay but on the topic of vampire!ellie, which one do you guys personally like?? has nothing to do with what i'll write next, just a curiosity + headcanons. MDNI 18+ enjoy this free vamp!ellie brainstorming content with a random side of nipple fixation!

¨༺ ♱ ༻¨

teenage dirtbag vampire!ellie in a modern realm who can't stand being in her parents suburban hell born house, tired of their cockalorum and urging for her to engage more in the vampiric branch of her family. attend the parties, go human–hunting with the other blood–ingesting addicts, try this, do that. it all irked ellie the wrong way, made her psyche boil, cause all she wanted to fucking do was you. she craves only your blood, your taste, the metallic ribbons pumping your lifeline was like a goddamn nectar to her. and you let her feed, because you loved her. you let your meat sack of a body replace her breakfast, lunch, dinner– first and final meal.

that's why you let her move in with you. cause you fucking can. now, every itty–bitty token of her life tangles with yours on the walls. pictures and awards, a manifold of knickknacks cluttering the window sills, even her clothes tend to blend with yours– an illusive invitation for you to wear her clothes without the question ever pressing her lips apart. you both are madly besotted in each other. no denial objects to that.

and, fuck, this version of ellie is hot. fitted tanks absent of a bra– pale brown pierced nipples erecting the thin fabric into a small mound. gray wash skinny jeans that fit her lean legs well, waistband cruising nicely under that peek of a v–line, fraying at the ankle hems that contrasts into those battered up converse of a similar hue. oh, and usually cloaks her shoulders up in a sable leather jacket– with your name patched in. a jacket, so prized, alwaaays winds up hurled to some isolated and cimmerian corner of your room, purely cause she lacks the care to hang it up whenever she returns home in a scramble, fangs unsheathing for blood. her knees would find themselves pressing hard into the mattress beneath both of you, centering a large gully of weight where her half–unzipped crotch and your butt meet, thirstily rutting to the point of numbing your clit through the hard denim of your pants. her zinc button just kept pounding that shit, keeping you spread wide. while dry humping you, she'd moan and groan hot on your earlobe, fangs partial hooking on the rim, "mhh– fuck n' suck, babe– can i? fuuck.." 'fuck n' suck' was just some made–up code for, well, it should be obvious. times like those, where she intends to fuck her pussy rough on you without remorse, whilst drying your organs of blood.

ohh, but i'll write that in detail one day~

gothic vampire!ellie who lodges high on a hill, deep in the mighty fathomage of her grandoise palace, steeples scaping high into the howling sky– torn asunder by a network of lightning above. you're nothing but meat and blood, princess, a feast inside regalia. every freshwater pearl, every satiny reflection of light off your dress, only made your flesh more supple in her fluorescent fern eyes. those lucifer–damned pupils though, well, let's just say you can't even measure the green pool of her eyes anymore. dilating, big black saucers, ballooning the milken white away whenever she snags a glimpse of your blood. that phantom heartbeat of hers races madly, mad of love for that color. for that glisten of liquid. so divine, she thinks. a gulp bolts down her gullet when within a measly foot of you, or, more specifically, a mere gate between the two of your noses. how else is she supposed to store her cache of sustenance?

yes, that's precisely what i'm hinting at. a holding cell. dusty and decrepit, rats abundant skittering the stone ground, and you swore cobwebs began to web themselves in your hair– now loose and unbraided. that brute of a girl would crouch on the opposing side, dangling keys on a loop sat upon her finger, ploddingly wagging like a swinging great axe. taunt, taunt taunt taunt.. is all she would skip about and do. slip into your cell quickly and play with you. kitty–cornering you and blocking you in her arms, cooing how terribly sorry she feigns to be, for jailing you up and treating you like meat. however, tides turn, and so do emotions. could it be, the dracula upon the misty cliff– has fallen in love?

turns out, witty princesses with a snakish tongue and spit to spare really turned her on. fuck, even you cursed yourself for rending your guard and feeling a magnetic pull to that hunk of a beast, clad in her midnight black, puffed sleeves and collar drawstring shirt. finely sewn black trousers and shiny black boots, curse you, for finding something about that hellishly horrid outfit so handsome on her. there's– oh, this particularly noticeable asset tp her garb as well. the black dye was nearing translucency, and if you loitered your vision directly on her chest long enough, caught in the right cosmic light, you could see that waxen bosom and her nipples, light brown contrary to her vampiric skin. haha, how humiliating it was when she caught you staring at them as she stood in front of your sat stature, being so brazen enough to ask, "something caught your eye princess? shall i strip myself of this, then?" whilst her hands mindlessly tucked under the loose hem anyway, wringing the fabric over her head and banishing it aside. "here, feel my dead heart–" swirled her voice, thrusting her hand out to grasp yours, cold as the ice age, her mitts froze your wrists and yanked them forth, pressing them flat against her breast and swiping her thumb across your contrasting warm skin, leavening with excitement as you fondle. she stows her knee on the bed adjacent to your thigh, whispering, so.. so, hauntingly, "feel that? no pulse, no life, not a spark lives within me, dear." and it was nothing vastly far from the truth. beneath her erect nipple, was no beat. eyes widening to a moon, and lips parting to steal simply too much air, you shudder. was it fear, you shuddered for, or arousal? that's a tale, for another day.

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #⤹𓍢ִ໋aestras thoughts #vampire!ellie #lesbian #sapphic #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #ellie williams x fem!reader #ellie williams fic #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams blurb #ellie williams drabble #ellie williams x reader smut #tlou smut #ellie smut

[squishyneet]

·˚ ༘₊· SACRED NEMESES ꒰➳ LOOKISM ༊*·˚

tw: pure angst (and whatever Gitae got goin on), implied sexual assault, groping, brief description of blood, description of dissociation, malnutrition, also huge spoiler warning

I've been callin' ya

Ryohei knocked for the seventh time that day, slumped against Mitsuki's door, anxiously hoping she might finally come out. "Mitsuki, dear . . . you have to . . . have to eat something," he managed, somewhat deprived of energy himself as a result of his resolution to monitor her. "I'll help you . . . if you can't do it by yourself . . ." Ryohei's eyes fluttered shut as he passed out safely against Mitsuki's door, unaware of the tears hitting the floor on the other side.

But you won't pick up

"Don't worry, Gyeoul. I will protect you no matter what." Gyeoul stared flatly at Hangyeoul, his dear pathetic and dutiful brother, and wondered he could possibly be thinking. Did he really believe such a feat was achievable? His weak brother who succumbed to coercion, who never once fought for himself was supposedly going to protect him? "I told you to stop saying things like that."

'Nother fortnight lost in America

"That James Lee is merely a dog I keep on a leash. He does his master's bidding," Charles Choi grimly remarked to Gun, clearly disturbed by the mere thought of the man. James listened mindlessly from outside the room, staring and spacing out. "His strength and history don't matter anymore as long as I have him under my heel." James foggily recalled his dear memories of fighting the Kings, people he may have called friends if not for his current situation. He kind of missed that Jichang.

Move to Florida!!!

Thick and syrupy blood still dripped from the walls of Kenta's house when walked to his room to pack his things to move to Seoul. He silently and mechanically folded his clothes, took a tooth brush, and drank some water. Metallic taste lingering deep in his throat, he made his way to the airport feeling, despite only carrying one loosely filled backpack, heavier than ever. He wondered about Seoul, partially worried about how he won't fit in and partially because thinking about his hometown made his stomach churn inside out.

Buy the car you want

Fatigue had ploddingly taken Eugene in his office. Cheeks hollow and eyes going blurry, he impatiently stuck a blank flash drive into his laptop to copy the contents of the red paper. He rested his face on his hand and sluggishly gazed at the sun going down, faintly hoping this might finally be enough to make the case against Charles Choi. The chairman of Workers fell asleep in a Rolls-Royce on a dreamy car ride home to the thought of his nemesis, slackly covered in a blanket stored for him.

But it won't start up til you touch, touch, touch me

Jinyoung browsed through his old notebooks, full of information regarding his beloved drugs, ingredients, their combinations, and the like. Messy notes and revisions scribbled in margins and the occasional doodle made by Gapryong or Lightning. He steadily reviewed them as he always had when he got an idea for a new drug. He leisurely recalls a time when he could go out with his friends, study anywhere he pleased, and feel the sunlight on his skin. Now, he is pale with sinking eyes and a blindness to the smell of rubbing alcohol in his lab as he mourns his youth sanctified in faded pages.

I've been callin' ya

"You're leaving?" Daniel murmured, confused. Eli stopped idly in his tracks, hands in pockets, unresponsive. "Is it because you can't afford to go to school anymore?" Daniel lamented quietly, looking away. " . . . I have a family to take care of, Daniel," Eli stated simply. "Please don't worry about me." "Well, if you need help . . ." Daniel began but Eli had already proceeded through the main exit to the courtyard, and his half-hearted offer fell on unwilling ears.

But you won't pick up

"I've already drank with somebody else," Gun expressed calmly. Is this Stockholm syndrome? Goo's chest hurt. He was right. There was no such thing as making friends in Korea and everyone was just as superficial as they seemed. He drank by himself, distracting his mind by pondering how much of his things to take when he moves out of that damn cage of a house. At least he wouldn't have to worry about being groped while cooking anymore. That kinda hurt.

'Nother fortnight lost in America

'Thing were more peaceful with him around.' 'The Kings came so close.' Jichang heard these never ending observations bounce around in his head as he filled his car with the last of his belongings. His brothers were already made comfortable at their new home. Jaw clenched and seething, he mentally bids goodbye and sets off from Seoul for the last time into the blazing sunlight and hot winds of Chungcheong, determined not to lose his new kingdom before he had even claimed it.

Move to Florida!!!

'I'm going back to Mexico.' Gitae tucked his phone into his back pocket, blowing smoke through barely parted lips outside the airport. He shivered and exhaled heavily, eager to leave and to smoke one last cigarette before his flight. The idea that he ever resembled his father made his blood boil and he's glad the rat bastard is dead. He sharply put out the cigarette in the allotted tray, making a mental note to work on his Spanish and to buy a new axe when he arrived. The sight of his hometown made his head spin.

Buy the car you want

Na Jaegyeon writhed weakly against a wall as he felt lips brush his ear. "Do you taste good too, little boy?" Flustered, he held his breath and tried to avoid eye contact. He had the misfortune of visiting Seoul at precisely the wrong time and was approached in an alley by Gitae Kim, against whom he certainly did not stand a chance. "Or should I bring you to Mexico with me? They'll like you over there," Gitae whispered, low and arousing. Jaegyeon shuddered when he felt strong hands snaking around his waist and a warm mouth start to probe his neck. He never should have gotten in the car.

But it won't start up til I touch, touch, touch you

Taesoo was visiting of his own accord. Seongji's grave was silent, clean, and furnished with a multitude of flowers. He dearly missed the time when he could entertain the thought of the Kings acting like family, argumentative as some of them were. He missed the time when peace truly seemed like an option for Korea, fragmented as it was. And he missed Seongji, close as he seemed before his eyes.

Lyrics from 'Fortnight', Taylor Swift, The Tortured Poets Department

#lookism #daniel park #ryohei kuroda #mitsuki soma #baek gyeoul #baek hangyeoul #charles choi #james lee #diego kang #kenta magami #jinyoung park #eli jang #jang hyun #gun park #goo kim #jichang kwak #gitae kim #na jaegyeon #taesoo ma #seongji yuk #lookism fanfictio #fanfic #webtoon #manhwa #sacred nemeses

[viiioca]

day 7: lightning

From the journal of Estelle de Laussienne, 18th of the 3rd Astral Moon, 5 7A.E. The aetherology of a stagnant world is fascinating enough to feel guilty about finding it fascinating -- as I'm sure the people of the First, who have lived this reality for the last century, would not appreciate being studied like an anomaly by a stranger who has never known their hardships. Still, it's difficult not to feel excited to observe something utterly without precedent on the Source: the First is not entirely dead, not like the Burn, but the cycles are sluggish, depressed. Seasons, the Exarch tells me, march by ploddingly, experiencing no extremes in any direction; there is neither a rainy season nor a dry season, no true winter and no true spring. Static. Rain, when it does come, gutters from the sky with all the majesty of a clogged faucet. And how to tell when it comes? By its first drops, impossible to plan around, as the clouds gather above the shroud of Light. Their world changes so minimally, but even within that narrow band, it must seem as if it comes from nowhere. Ah, but the balance is shifting. Remove the problem element -- the stopper in the bottle -- and the flow is restored. It is not just night that has returned to Lakeland, but resurrection of all the natural cycles as each element gently stirs like seeds in the spring. The Crystarium received the benediction of its first night, held its breath for its first sunrise, released it in relief at its first sunset – and now it watches the clouds mount an offensive, listens to the heavens crack open, and smells the damp earth of a land committed to living. It seems as if the whole city has emerged from their homes to watch another miracle unfold in the sky. And it is difficult not to feel excited about that, too.

[roevember 2023 prompt by boreal tempest & roe fizzlebeef]

#ffxiv #my wol: estelle #femroe #roegadyn #gpose #roevember #roevember 2023 #roevemberxiv #we do a little staring into the distance on this blog

[its-actually-minicika]

Hii, I wanted to say that I love your writing and I was extremely happy to see that your requests are open! You deserve all the recognition in the world ❤️ Thank you so much for sharing your talent with us 😭

Could you write Aemond taking both Alys and Y/N as his bedmates as spoils of war? Where the two have a relationship and Aemond becomes a part of it as well. Something sensual and smutty

Again, thank you so much ❤️❤️❤️

Muted Hearts (18+)

Pairing: Alys x Reader x bookcanon!Aemond;

Warnings: very mean Aemond and ANGST, manhandling, very dubious consent from Alys and full-blown non con from the reader;

Word Count: 620;

Author's Note: I cannot do three-ways their justice :") and since this Nonny asked for smutty action that involved Alysmond and the reader to be a happy-esque, credencial throuple, I decided not to write something too long.

This definitely doesn't have a happy ending, and it has potential to be triggering - so please please please proceed with caution?

You loved your Alys. You really did.

And when she told you of her own affection, you tried your hardest to believe her.

“So what? You’re just going to let him do this?”

“What other choice do we even have?”

The hushed whispers of the two old lovers rumbled through their tired throats. Tears of anger seeped her vision, cutting short her broad horizon. When Alys still refused to linger, her voice rose to a contorted scream. “You’re just going to let him bed you?”

Her steps ceased into a halt. The brunette transfixed her with her aching stare, and merely pursed her lips together. “I’m doing this for you – for us.”

“Are you?”

Aemond Targaryen ruined her life when he breached the walls of Harrenhal. And due to his impending lust, her life had never been the same.

Alys, truly, had been smarter – ever the conniving woman, she jumped fast into his bed. Disregarded the years spent in her comely and enwrapping presence, and the promises they had once made.

When the Kinslayer had called upon her, the girl seethed with ablazing rage. She took a hold of the full and hefty wine pouch – the crude excuse Aemond had used, just to draw her closer yet –, and ploddingly ascended the slim and narrow set of stairs, in the steadfast favour of reaching his chambers.

Alys’ elated moans drew narrow blades into her heart. She had reached the wooden door, yet remained enthralled in place. Tears simmered down her cheeks, as choler outrage and futore aggression protruded through her skin and veins.

“Your wine, Your Grace.”

The words which heaved out of her mouth were not her own to recognise. Her eyes closed in vern lividity, as the pair stopped their rasp-long moans – if only for a little bit, the quiet's been a short-lived blessing –, and the Prince Regent’s leaden steps resounded in the quiet room.

Half expecting to surprise him naked – and wholeheartedly precise with that –, her cumbrous neck moved to the side, bringing forth her hair in vision, and blocking the path to his devout discretion.

“I asked for a cup-bearer this evening. Not a girl apt for delivering.”

A sickening swelling of dread smacked her right across the mouth.

“Of course, Your Grace, I’ll go fetch Rickon.”

“The road to him will not be necessary. For we want you to voyeur tonight.”

“I’m afraid I won’t do that.”

“Your Prince commands you.”

“My Prince may well stick his urges in his arse.”

What happened next unravelled fast. He hauled her hair. He dragged her inside. She lost her balance and dropped the wine. Alys rattled out a protesting scream – though she might’ve concocted the latter end part.

“My love,” She hastily spoke, “Forget this dumb girl – come back to me.”

Her extended arms reached out to him, and Aemond’s hold just vaguely loosened.

Gods, how her heart throbbed harder than her head, as she stomached down their sick exchange.

“This one has a mouth to her,” The One-Eyed Prince had hissed unwashed, whilst turning to the sprawling girl with a careless bite laced in his cadent timbre, “My Lady says I shouldn’t punish you.” He hummed quite lax and satisfied, “Yet I cannot just let you off.”

Both women shared a look of panic.

“Touch me now... and I’ll gouge out your one good remaining eye.”

Her own closed up in the expectance of a rough-sent hit. Though that loud slap would never come. Instead, Aemond let out a rumbled laugh, and merely ferried her to the bed’s near edge.

Her hands were tied to the bed’s ebony foot, and a small screech beleft her lips.

“You’ll watch my sweet Lady tonight.” He had grunted with his back all turned, as he pried Alys’ legs in a roughened and effective move.

“Tomorrow I’ll ensure your turn.”

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond imagine #alys x reader #alys rivers #alys x aemond #alysmond #idk this is fucked up

[gwidien]

@worsethanwolves (continued from here):

"It seems we've started off on the wrong foot." He'd said each word ploddingly. He un-leans off the table. 

The night hadn't gone as he'd planned. In a parlor, as he made his rounds rubbing elbows with people worth rubbing elbows with and getting the dirt on people worth robbing, a gentleman, livid and half-drowned in absinthe, jabbed a finger at him. Apparently, he'd recognized him from Valentine. He'd accused him of thieving.

It evolved to a near-bluster after that. Trelawny attempted to finesse his way out of it; a quick dash of lies here. A whole year’s supply worth. The man threw out a fist, too drunk, and Trelawny backed away against the bartop. Then, like the hand of God: Arthur. 

His hat's gone askew. Bless his soul, Trelawny doesn't know it.

Arthur fixes it for him, and he seems lighter.

"Thank you," Trelawny says, the 'you' leaving him pluck-y and dog-whistle high, or in the way that comes when helping yourself to a last piece of something, don't mind if I do. He pairs it with a bow, and then he straightens. "Clothes make the man and some such."

If he notices Arthur's face has gone red, then perhaps it's all lighting. Or from being windswept. Or a life spent under the sun, irrefutably. And if he at all smells pine trees, smoke, and sweat, or notices Arthur sticking out here like a white dress in a funeral, he mentions none of it. Instead, he turns on his heels.

"The knight in shining armor, are we?" he drawls, light and too casual. He doesn't look over. "And away they rode into the sunset." It's time to go, he means, and given their man on the floor, unconscious and all eyes on them, maybe he's right.

#worsethanwolves #( gwidien: v: prologue. ) #not to say that arthur beat him btw im sure the guy was drunk enough to have fallen on his own #but if thats an avenue you want to take if you want to continue this go for it :)

[larkral]

My darlings, my dearests, remember when I told you I'd finished the first draft of my @erotic-grope-fest piece last week? That was true...but then also upon reflection/feedback I realized that it's a VERY incomplete draft and needs at minimum another probably 3k words on top of what's already been written. So, you know, for plot reasons, I will be writing another 3k of smut. Hopefully the length will not make this story an undue hardship for everyone who has been encouraging me along as I write this. 😂

ADA is coming along a bit ploddingly. I had a really good conversation with @petedavidsonscock this week about why I wasn't making progress on it and even though I have a good sense of that, and a wellspring of motivation to write it, it seem that working evenings most of this week cuts into my writing time? How is this possible? Why does capitalism suck? Questions for the ages.

Anyway, today's six sentences are from a scene I wrote today! I *think* this is only mildly spicy, but my barometer may have malfunctioned. Anyway, tags and snip below the cut!

I can't study in our room, even if he's not there. I can't focus through the sizzle of anticipation that he'll slam through the door and pull my chair back from the desk before dropping to his knees in front of me. Even in the library, I can't help thinking of what will happen when I leave, when I walk up the stairs, when Snow's eyes light on me and he stands from his bed (or out of his chair, or pushes open the bathroom door, or slams the closet shut) and he yanks my hips into his hands and tugs my trousers off and reaches into my pants and… Honestly Penelope Bunce won't have any competition for being the top of our class if this keeps up.  But it's hardly a choice: a year of Simon Snow's mouth or a year of academic excellence. Who wouldn't choose the former?

Thanks for the tags @palimpsessed @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @chen-chen-chen-again-chen @stitchyqueer @thewholelemon @takitalks @confused-bi-queer @artsyunderstudy

Come out and play! @raenestee @facewithoutheart @cutestkilla @hushed-chorus @sillyunicorn @basiltonbutliketheherb @ileadacharmedlife @asocialpessimist @bookish-bogwitch @aristocratic-otter @captain-aralias @yeonjunenby @carryonvisinata @takenabackbytuesdays @martsonmars @nightimedreamersghost @ionlydrinkhotwater @aroace-genderfluid-sheep​ @shrek-gogurt @forabeatofadrum @fatalfangirl

#six sentence sunday #egf2023 #a year of Simon Snow's mouth or a year of academic excellence? #someone make that a poll #for plot reasons i will be writing another 3k of smut

[kaelio]

Went and fact checked this and it's correct. Dear city of Seattle, please stop illegally giving no-bid contracts for millions of dollars to these orgs. We have (tragically boring) established NGOs which are ploddingly competent and not cool but also aren't cynical PR exercises.

[screampied]

i want to sit on higuruma’s face and ride his nose so badly 😔😔

☆ higuruma x fem! reader

⤷ tags: cunnilingus, praise, riding higuruma’s nose

the minute you ask him, he’s so compliant.

at first you were sure higuruma would make fun of you. although, he’s the exact opposite—you find yourself hovering just over his mouth, barely.

higuruma’s fingers gently ghost against your hips before bringing a kiss against the middle fabric part of your panties.

“hey, if you wanna ride my nose, angel then jus’ do it,” and his voice was smooth, you stare at him, and by the second you’re growing more and more wet. “don’t be shy.”

“…o-okay,”

you mumbled, your knees bent, you were just casually lingering over him—you move yourself done just a bit and your panties rub against his nose.

higuruma chuckles, you were so frantic solely by the movement of your hips. higuruma licks a stripe against your underwear, watching you squirm in desperation before he moves the string to the side. “get nice ‘n comfy, that’s it.”

you gnaw on your lip, starting to move your hips just a bit against his face. you felt the tip of his nose repeatedly tap and prod against your pussy. the moment you felt his tongue softly go against your folds, you shudder from his touch.

“h—hiro,” you’d squeak out, and darkened eyes of his meet yours.

a single hand of his has a firm grip on your right thigh as he’s returning you a sensual stare. “fuck..” you panted, and he’s easily stimulating your clit with just a few licks and sucks of his tongue. you’re grinding against his face ploddingly, almost as if you were hesitating at first before he brings to hands to make you sit all on him.

the sounds of your own breathing started to pick up, and he looked so pretty underneath you—just his eyes half-lidded, lips slightly parted and a tiny smirk pressing against the very corners of his lips.

fingers of yours started to go through his hair, giving it a slight yank, it’s unintentional and it drags out a groan from higuruma.

“easy, girl. easy.”

“sorry...”

you moaned, feeling his nose continuously rub against your pussy. the soft middle part just swiping all against your clit, his lips were attached, never releasing its grip.

it doesn’t take much long before your legs start to shake and judder. you felt yourself slowly reaching up to that pleasurable point.

“angel…just relax, i got you.” he purrs in a raspy voice, departing his lips for a brief moment just to kiss all against your puffed folds.

you were drenched, soaked even. his tongue had your eyes rolling back, backwards. higuruma teasingly brings a thumb towards your pussy and runs down your slit just for him to give it a sweet kiss. “could have you sit on my face all day, gorgeous.”

and he meant that, because after you always whined on wanting to ride his face—more specifically, his nose.

you’d find yourself doing it all the time, just sitting there, looking pretty until you came all on his face. “hiromi, hiro—”

“oh, i know,” he murmurs, and higuruma starts to stroke himself. you made him so hard he couldn’t help but touch himself. low husky grunts escaped from his lips as you’re an entire shaky mess on his face. “give it to me,” and his warm breath dances against your thighs—you feel him give your thighs a light pull forward towards his mouth and you moan. “come on baby, come on.”

his voice was so gentle, purely identical to his touch. the way his tongue grazed against every inch had you whining for more incessantly. so sloppy, occasionally he’d spit on your pussy just to lap it up with his tongue. he was covered from the nose down with your slick.

higuruma found himself giving your clit multiple kisses just to watch you cutely squirm and jolt against him.

your hands grip his hair and you’re whimpering. after a few seconds, your legs thrash and shake and then you came. he smiles at the way your body responded to his tongue, barely able to keep your hold on his hair.

“good girl, just make a mess ‘n let me clean it.” he mutters, giving your pussy a final kiss. “look at me. eyes down here,” and you move your eyes down towards him. higuruma grabs you off of him before pulling you close towards him. he brushes a thumb against your lips before planting a three second kiss on your mouth. so lewd, you tasted yourself all on his tongue — the sheer sweetness of it had you whimpering for more.

“…sweet girl.” he utters, and you moan into his mouth, returning it before feeling him reach a hand down to give your pussy a light squeeze. “i’m not finished with you yet, want more of you.”

his words had you pulsing, and as you continued to kiss him — with him breaking away every few seconds to speak, that’s when higuruma suddenly makes you bend over, softly caressing your ass with the palm of his hand. “arch just like that for me, yeah..”

#★vegasbaby. #higuruma hiromi x reader #higuruma smut #higuruma hiromi #higuruma x reader #higuruma x you #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #anime smut #female reader

[home--farm]

in the winter of 2023 I ran into an old workmate, who told me that one of the kindest and gentlest people in my previous workplace had died quite suddenly. Apparently she had felt poorly on a Friday afternoon and was dead by Monday morning due to an aggressive cancer that wasn't detected until far too late.

We were not close friends; I don't think she would even have considered me a friend. She was just one of those people who is very kind, and very patient, and who it is difficult not to love. She was also, very patiently, very ploddingly, trying to get to retirement. She wouldn't have had an exciting one; no doubt she would've just sat in the garden and painted watercolors and texted with her daughter and watched the cats.

But, unfairly, she didn't get the opportunity to have that simple joy, not even in her final days. She died so quickly she hardly had time to say good bye to her loved ones. Among the many gifts she gave to me, this last one has had a profound impact on my life.

I've stopped chasing promotions and money, and packed in the second job. I've started taking time to go sit and listen to the birds and pet the dog and pull up a weed or two and snuggle my kid in the morning. I've decided never to go back to working in an office because I loathe them. I've decided to stop stressing about the career ladder, the place I'm "supposed" to be, the things I'm "supposed" to be doing.

If we had had the chance to say goodbye, I'm sure she would have told me not to worry about what other people want, and not to wait to do the simple, beautiful things. The watercolours and the cats and the kid are here right now, all I have to do is be present. I wish she could have had them too.

This month is her namesake. Thank you, May.

#may #personal #home--farm

[lesbianwriter]

“Save the cat from that tree.”

“You have to be kidding.” Villain murmured.

“Nope!” Hero slapped Villain on the back, nudging her forward. “This is your first lesson in goodness for your rehabilitation. In no time you’ll be perfectly good!”

“Besides, it’s not that tall.” Sidekick added.

“‘It’s not that tall’.” Villain mimicked, sneering. She shook her head to try and get the hair out of her face. “You expect me to climb a tree in handcuffs and save a cat?”

Cliché. It was so unbearably typical the whole saving a cat from a tree scenario. And the two heroes couldn’t possibly think that rescuing a cat would change her ways? The idea was ridiculous. Laughable, really.

The cat mewled from a tall branch.

“Yup!” Hero dragged Villain closer to the tree. “I believe you can do it.”

Villain blew a lock of hair out of her eyes and sighed. “I’ll beat your ass the moment I escape, you know that, right?”

She surveyed the tree. It was a fairly large sycamore with low branches and bright, healthy leaves. It was surrounded by a bed of sweet smelling primroses and weeds. The trapped cat in question was a scrawny tabby cat. Likely a stray.

Villain did feel a little pity for the animal, but she wouldn’t ever admit it. Hero and Sidekick would gloat. She knew that from experience.

“lf all goes to plan then you’ll be good by then.” Sidekick pushed her ever closer to the tree. She was serious about it. They both were.

“If I crack my head open then my ghost will haunt you.” Villain muttered, lifting herself on the first branch and hitching a leg up. Hero pushed her onto the branch and Villain awkwardly held onto it, her cheek pressed against the damp bark.

“We’ll catch you!” Hero called out.

“Splendid.” Villain scoffed.

Little by little so she wouldn’t fall, she found her balance and stood up on the branch. She hadn’t decided if it would be worse to get caught by Hero or have a large gash in her head. Ignoring the thought, she reached up and her fingers caught on a hold. Ploddingly, she pulled herself up to the next branch.

The tabby made a piteous meow when Villain finally swung her arms over a branch. She pulled herself upwards and gasped as she folded over the branch like a wet towel. By now, both of them were partially obscured by a canopy of leaves and the sun created shifting patterns of light on the branches.

Cautiously, Villain averted her attention to the ground. Hero wasn’t in sight, but she couldn’t escape. She’d still need to get down the tree and the two goody-goody heroes would catch her then—plus the handcuffs were a major hindrance.

They rattled as she pulled herself all the way up and approached the cat slowly.

“Make this easy for both of us.” Villain said quietly. The cat hissed and swiped at her face, claws bared. “Trust me, if I wasn’t being forced to save you then I wouldn’t be approaching you, but here we are.”

She held her arms open welcomingly…well, as much as she could with handcuffs and an expression that could curdle milk. The cat had a similar expression. It’s feline eyes were narrowed; untrusting. However, Villain did have an advantage. She wasn’t a scrawny cat stuck on a branch.

Villain leaned forwards and snatched the cat in her arms, holding it tight to her chest as she wobbled. She tightened her legs around the branch. Her breathing was unsteady.

Maybe she was dramatic but cracking her skull open or getting held in Hero’s or Sidekick’s arms like a bride were not things she wanted to happen. The former was almost as unpleasant as the latter.

Frightened, the cat flailed as much as they were capable. Villain grimaced and smoothed the cat’s grey fur. The fur was matted, grimy, and smelled as if they had rolled in garbage, but Villain kept petting the poor stray until they finally relaxed and stopped biting.

“I get it, okay? I understand, but you can’t fight me on this. You’ll be happier out of this tree.” Villain whispered softly.

God…I sound like Hero, Villain scrunched her nose at the revelation.

She shook her head and began her descent.

It was hellish to get back down. The cat insisted on squirming in the most inconvenient parts, and Villain already didn’t have free use of her hands before, but a living, breathing creature in only one hand made her struggle exemplified. Villain’s face kept scratching against the bark when she climbed down. Branches smacked her in the face, leaves poked at her eyes, and a bug crawled on her leg at one point.

Finally, her onerous task that was only a few minutes (but felt like a millennia and a half) ended as she plopped onto the primroses, crushing them under her shoes.

“You did it.” Sidekick raised her eyebrows. “And look, the cat likes you.”

It was true. Villain was struggling to get the cat off her sleeve, but the cat didn’t want to leave. They stuck their claws into the fabric and climbed up the their saviors shoulder, nuzzling into the crook of where her shoulder became neck.

“Well, guess its time to leave the cat.” Sidekick pulled the cat away.

“Leave it where?” Villain cursed herself for asking.

“Anywhere.” Hero answered.

“You’re…you can’t just leave it like that—“ Villain responded, blinking. What if the cat starved? What if they died?

Hero and Sidekick exchanged a look and a smug smile.

“I’m so proud of you.” Hero hugged Villain tight around the waist. “See? Saving the cat instilled in you some morals. You’re capable of doing good—of being good—and I know that deep down you aren’t a bad person. We’ll be such amazing friends in no time!”

“More than friends.” Sidekick mused from the sidelines.

“Not if you squeeze me to death.” Villain wheezed.

#hero x villain #villain x hero #polyamory prompts #sapphic #my writing #writing snippet #sidekick x villain #sidekick x hero

[walkonpooh]

House of Leaves - Mark Z. Danielewski Review

“This is not for you”

Okay.

Okay.

If you haven’t read it, House of Leaves is a post-modern book written by Mark Z. Danielewski in 2000 written in epistolary form. It’s a story within a story within a story within a story. What do I mean by that? Well at the heart of House of Leaves is The Navidson Record, a proposed documentary about a photographer, Will Navidson, who buys a house to reconnect with his family; his partner Karen Green and their children, Chad and Daisy.

Not missing any opportunity to work, Navidson sets up cameras around the house to capture little moments of their daily lives. Then one day, they notice that the inside of the house is a little bigger than the outside. Then a little bigger. And bigger. Then one day a doorway that wasn’t there before appears in the living room of the house. Opening the doorway they find a hallway. The bulk of The Navidson Record is the exploration of that hallway.

So I say bulk of The Navidson Record, isn’t this the book? Well, yes and no. Because taking a step back, we have Zampano. Zampano is a blind uh, I guess maybe former academic? Zampano is examining the truthfulness of The Navidson Record, touching on the filming style of it. Examining the lives of Navidson and Karen. Delving into critical discussions, photography, architecture, Biblical studies. Only House of Leaves doesn’t stop here.

Because Zampano recently died. So we’re introduced to Johnny Truant, who was introduced to the deceased Zampano through his friend Lude, who knows that Truant will love this guy’s apartment and the rabbit hole of The Navidson Record. So we’re also given through Truant’s footnotes of the story his life story; way more of his sexual encounters than I cared to know about, his lusting over a stripper who frequents the tattoo parlor he works for named Thumper, on account of her tattoo based on the Disney’s Bambi character.

Finally, we have the unnamed Editors of House of Leaves, who are adding footnotes to all of the above throughout the entirety of the story. Also keeping in mind is the author, Mark Z. Danielewski and the reader, all taking part in this story, published now twenty-three years ago.

So House of Leaves is a book I’ve *attempted* to read several times and failed to do so until this past week, when I devoured the book. As I sit here writing this, I’m sort of mixed on whether devouring House of Leaves is the proper way to read it, or if not reading it alongside another book, sort of ploddingly moving through it would not have been the better method.

House of Leaves is fairly infamous at this point, unlike when I first heard about it. It’s funny because it’s origins are similar to The Blair Witch Project. I remember people claiming that no, this book was based on true events, which of course plays right into the post-modernity style Danielewski was going for. Critiquing literature and literature critics. One of the reasons it’s infamous for the style the book is written in. So I described the layers of the onion, so to speak, but I’ve read and watched quite a few opinions of the book at this point and I agree that the book in and of itself is the labyrinth of The Navidson Record.

That is you’re meant to get lost in it and like a labyrinth, there are dead ends. Unlike a labyrinth, I can’t say that at this point, twenty-three years into the story that I enjoyed “solving” the labyrinth. And that’s primarily for the Johnny Truant sections of the book. Johnny is fairly certain that The Navidson Record is a fabrication, which to me, along with the story of Johnny’s mother, Pelefina, her notes, is actually a fairly big clue that Johnny is falsified.

Post modernism was a huge thing in the early aughts, where I don’t feel like its influences today are as far reaching, but pretty cliché by this point in time. But there was The Blair Witch Project, like I said that had the is this real-is this not real and all of the commentary that came with that. In video gaming you have Metal Gear Solid 2: Sons of Liberty, a post-modern video game, which critiques the very people playing the game, playing off their expectations of what a sequel to Metal Gear Solid should be. There’s Mulholland Dr., which came out the same year as House of Leaves and is playing with *very* similar themes and to me, is superior.

So because of Johnny’s mothers letters, it seemed pretty clear to me that Johnny, the Johnny we’re reading about, is a fabrication of Pelefina. Her letter about creating a son who could live the life she never had is written nine months before Johnny’s birth. I think Pelefina actually choked Johnny to death and everything else that happens in House of Leaves is her way of coping with having done this, ala Diane in Mulholland Dr. and the events of that movie being a fever dream of Diane’s.

Anyway, so like this is all just interpretation and there’s probably no “answer”. That’s one aspect of post-modernity that I do like, the chin stroking that happens from it is just part of the cycle of this stuff. So do I like House of Leaves? A day after finishing it. Sitting here thinking about it, I like it more today than I did yesterday. I bounced off Truant’s footnotes pretty hard while reading it. As I write this though, I like the idea of that story quite a bit (the slight comparing it to Mulholland Dr. is no slight, that’s a Top 10 movie for me). The Navidson Record parts were pretty great, especially the earlier parts. Some of the later parts didn’t hit as hard for me, especially as they escape the house, but I also didn’t read this in optimal conditions. Oh, but I did *love* The NeverEnding Story aspect of House of Leaves being a book within House of Leaves. And I sort of wonder if like being frustrated by the Truant parts is akin to being frustrated by the labyrinth. I would have liked to learn more about Zampano, I think some of what we learned about him is interesting and I think I’d prefer that over Truant, but then that’s kind of the point of my interpretation.

Would I recommend House of Leaves? That’s a hard sell for me. Because how do you succinctly sell House of Leaves to someone in a way that doesn’t ruin the surprises or put them off the book? I feel like *most* people who want to read this story will seek it out and I think the reader knows pretty early on whether or not this story is for them.

4/5

#house of leaves #mulholland dr. #metal gear solid: sons of the patriots #halloween reading 2023 #post modern #post modernity #post modernism #mark z. danielewski #horror #horror fiction #horror books #horror book reviews #the navidson record #will navidson #zampano #johnny truant #the neverending story #pelefina #the blair witch project

[klonkbee]

Hedwyn Pyre for the ask game?

It's been a while since I've played Pyre.

First impression: It was nice of him to be the only member of the original party to not immediately go "put them out of their misery" on the Reader.

Impression now: Still a perfectly nice dude!

Favorite moment: If I'm remembering correctly, there is one conversation you can have with Hedwyn that you like his cooking, even though all he has to work with are disgusting Downside ingredients.

Idea for a story: I'm not much of a fanfic writer, but the best I can come up with is a ploddingly in-depth description of what Hedwyn has to go through to make edible meals in Fantasy Purgatory.

Unpopular opinion: I don't think the Pyre fandom is large enough to have much in the way of unpopular opinions (Does "I like Sir Gilman more" count?)

Favorite relationship: It was a nice surprise to find out that Jodariel is his adopted mom. Mother and son, playing fantasy basketball together to escape purgatory...

Favorite headcanon: During my first playthrough, one of my friends voiced Hedwyn with a heavy Russian accent. I can't unhear it and I don't want to unhear it; it's perfect.

#tag for asks #tag for supergiant games #pyre spoilers #I am tagging spoilers just to be safe

[okeanosornamentalgraphics]

Larry and the Desert Eaglet

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It was taking Larry everything within his essence to not chuck the electronic device into one of the pools leaving Casscarafa and watching the Veluza poke at it. Over an hour and a half later and the app still had not been fixed yet. This was no longer coincidental.

The sandstorm Kofu referred to had not gotten too bad yet, and fortunately for Larry he only had set foot in the Asado Desert right when it started. Which worked in his favor because he had left his sand goggles at home. Though he still would have preferred not having to slog through the desert with harsh particles blowing at his scrunched face and ounces of sand seeping into his shoes.

Larry made sure to tuck the Swablu away safely in a Pokeball before venturing into the desert. It was at the expense of him having to wake her up from a premature slumber, but he could deal with whatever repercussions she had in store for him later. Avoiding any unnecessary battling was the best course of action here. So he was careful to steer clear of the horde of Sandile and Hippopotas swimming vigorously through the sand, and he was cautious in sneaking past the Stonjourner when they had their tiny white eyes and large rocky bodies turned. There was a curious Cacnea and a frisky Phanpy that rolled too close, but Staraptor made quick work of them.

A great gust slapped across Larry’s face and he sneezed, coughing right after to clear out the particles in his throat. He hacked roughly, for almost fifteen seconds. When he ceased his coughing and sniffed, he could pick up the sound of a distant cry. No, cries . It sounded like a flock of Rufflet. Judging from the aggression of their cawing, they were fighting. And they were fighting hard . Utter savages those birds were. Their bull-headed ambition to fight anyone and anything no matter the opponent was something that Larry found incredible. Even with their own parents they were hellbent on picking fights as a means of acceptance. And there was no way Larry wanted to spend any time engaging in whatever brawl that was partaking between them. He had to be vigilant in where he stepped to make sure he wasn’t getting any closer.

He kept moving, the aggressive screeching of the birds suddenly died down and it gave his mind a sense of ease. Then he stopped. Something was in his path. It was a lone Rufflet. He was on his belly. Face down in the sand and completely still. Larry found himself inching closer to the fallen bird, his eyes squinted and a hand hovering over his eyes to get a better look.

He was alive. A melange of visible scrapes and gashes decorated his disarranged plumage, but he was breathing. The thought of leaving the bird quickly crossed his psyche. This was natural, right? That’s what Rufflet did. They started fights indiscriminately in a reckless attempt to get stronger and earn respect from their wounds. This one just so happened to lose. No need to intervene with nature.

Larry shook his head. No, that wasn’t the right way to think, the “Larry” way to think. It was alone and injured, the very least he could do was use a Potion so the eaglet would be able to stand up on his own and fly back home. Opening up his briefcase, Larry searched for a Full Restore, then paused, and grabbed the Super Potion instead. With a content nod, he pulled the trigger and spritzed a generous amount to each of the wounds. Starting with the bigger, more prominent injuries first and then moving to the smaller ones. He kept spraying until the orange mist dissipated and no more spit from the nozzle. A few seconds passed by and the bird began shambling around, lifting his ruffled head up ploddingly as if it weighed a ton. Instantly he flipped back onto his feet. His burly, berry-crushing claws partially buried in the sand. A few stray feathers fell from his body as it shook aggressively, a gruff caw vibrated his beak.

“Good to see that you’re okay,” Larry hummed, which snatched the bird’s attention. “I know you can’t help it, but you really should learn to pick your fights better.”

The bird cocked his head to the side, and Larry snorted. He rose to his feet and swiped a stray silver stand from his face. Well, that was that. Gotta keep moving. He picked his feet back up and walked around the Rufflet who hopped on his feet to keep his gaze on him.

Almost there. Just a few more miles of trudging through the sand and he’d finally be out and back onto the dirt path.

“Ruff!”

As if he teleported, his eyes met with the bird’s once again as he stared down at the feathery form right in front of him. It almost took him by surprise. Were Rufflet normally that fast?

“Rufflet! Ruff!” The bird kept squawking. The eyes were slanted in what looked like anger. Or determination.

Larry frowned back and shook his head. “No. I just healed you up, and you still want to fight?”

The Rufflet spread his gray wings and flapped them aggressively, again squawking loudly. Larry rolled his eyes. Ambition so strong that it was annoying. He knew someone like that.

Ignoring the bird, he carried on. He hadn’t even taken five steps forward when the Rufflet once again blocked his path, his warbling the same as before. Larry decided to be firm this time.

“No . You don’t want to fight me. Go home.”

Another series of caws. These didn’t sound affirmative. Larry continued to stare down at the bird, his blank expression slightly shifting into one of irritation and confusion.

“What? What do you want? So you don’t want to fight me, then?”

The Rufflet gave an affirmative response. He was getting somewhere. Another gust of wind whipped past and Larry rubbed his eyes with an arm. He looked back down at the eaglet. Well, if he didn’t want to fight him, what else did he want? Food? Was he hungry? Or perhaps…

Just maybe…

“You don’t want to fight me, but…you want to fight… with me? You want to fight for me?”

That must have been the answer, as the Rufflet expressed a joyful expression with squinted eyes and flew up to his eye level. And on instinct, Larry once again shook his head and walked around.

“No. You don’t want that. Go home.”

He was already anticipating the clashing of personalities with the rest of his new team. Adding a wayward species like a Rufflet would have made things difficult not just for him, but for the rest of his Pokémon. Arceus forbid the eaglet tried picking a fight with the Swablu or Oricorio. Larry didn’t even want to imagine training with the Rufflet’s evolved form. He would have hoped by the time he evolved, Rufflet would have already been accustomed to his personality and training style. Yet somehow he couldn’t help but worry about something going awry and he’d have to explain to his boss why he couldn’t keep a belligerent Braviary under control. What an interesting conversation that would be.

But despite the man's disapproval and advisory that the bird leave him alone, Rufflet wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

…

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✪ This is just a little small snippet from a much bigger passion project I’m working on!

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Writing was done by me.

Illustration was drawn by the amazing MsCMB_!

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