#which is stil tall

[iliketangerines]

consider the lin kuei brothers growing obsessive over someone and basically imprisoning her?

bi-han is obsessed with breeding the next lin kuei heir, of course. kuai liang thinks the outside world is dangerous and she's safer here. tomas just wants comfort and a big happy family of his own, and the reader can provide both of these! how lovely :)

i think temperature play and mindbreak go lovely with this - go crazy w this prompt otherwise i love reading ur writing

all ours

a/n: mmmmm, dark content my beloved

pairing: bi han, kuai liang, tomas vrbada x afab!reader

warnings: nsfw (MDNI), noncon, dead dove do not eat, breeding kink, pet play, pregnancy kink, pussy eating, overstimulation, creampies, somniphila, degradation kink, fingerfucking

you can feel the hair on the back of your neck stand up, and you turn to look over your shoulder

but all you see is the empty living room, and you slowly turn back to stir the food cooking in your pan

the past few weeks, you’ve felt like someone was watching you, waiting for you, like a predator hunting their prey, and you’ve been on edge

you can’t ignore the hissing sound that sounds behind you, and you whip around, wooden spoon in hand

there’s still no one there, but you see smoke rolling out of your bedroom door

you let out a yelp and turn off the stove, hoping that the candle you lit in there hadn’t set anything on fire too badly

you sprint into your room and find nothing there, candle still half-full, and you let out a sigh of relief

but goosebumps trail over your skin, and you turn around and find a tall man standing behind you, masked with feral eyes and gray hair

you try to run, but hands grab onto you from behind and press something against your face

you’re out before you even know it

you wake up with a start, and the world is a bit hazy as you try to blink your eyes open, perhaps it was just a bad dream

you go to rub your eyes and regain your sight, but the unfamiliar sound of a chain rattling startles you awake

you look to your hand and find it cuffed to the bedpost, which you most definitely didn’t put on yourself, and your breath comes out in quick breaths as you pull and tug on the chain

you start to cry, hyperventilating as you realize your ankles are also chained to the bed with little room to move to get off the bed and that you’re completely naked

a slight pressure is on your neck, and you tug at it and realize it’s a collar, like you’re a dog

the doorway to the room you’re in opens, and you try to scramble back as far as you can onto the bed

it’s not far enough as your back hits the headboard and a man with a blue uniform and hair tied up nicely into a bun enters the room

his eyes rove over your figure, and he stalks toward you, eyes not human as he crawls toward you on the bed

you try to kick him to get him away, but he easily catches your leg and squeezes tight, ice forming at the skin and freezing your nerves

you whimper and try to jerk your leg away, ice sending pain shooting up your body, and he lets out a low growl and jerks you toward him

he pins your hands up above you, freezing them in place and you cry as the ice cold temperature burns you, and he laughs at you

he trails his cold hands down your body, admiring the way goosebumps rise wherever he touches, and you squirm as best as you can in his grip to get away

it’s futile, your legs are spread by his hips, and he presses your hips down to stop you from moving

he growls at you to stop, or he’ll do something much worse

a blade of ice forms from his hand, and he points the sharp edge underneath your chin

immediately, you stop and take in shallow breaths as you hiccup and try not to cry as he hums in delight at your compliance

he puts down the ice blade, but it’s just within reach to remind to be good for him

he rubs at your hips and your waist and mutters something under his breath about you’ll bear his heirs, strong boys to lead his clan

you want to cry, scream, fight, but you don’t want to die and so you stay still and let tears drip down your cheeks as your wrists go numb

he trails his fingers down your stomach and spreads open your pussy folds, pressing his thumb into your clit and watching your hips jerk

you try to keep the sounds in, to not give him the pleasure of knowing he was making you feel good, but as he rubs insistent little circles into you, a small whine comes out

he chuckles and tells you he knew you were just a whore, a good little breeding vessel who’ll take his cock like a little slut

you can feel yourself getting wet, and you moan as he dips two cold fingers into your dripping cunt and fucks you roughly on his fingers

he laughs and presses his thumb into your clit, and you start to sob as he brings you closer to the edge against your will

your back arches off the bed as you cum, and your pussy clenches down on his fingers as you coat his fingers in your cum

your head spins as he brings his fingers out of your pussy and shoves them into your mouth, you have half a mind to not bite down and just let his fingers rest in your mouth

he pulls out his cock, and he pushes into you hurriedly, muttering under his breath how he needs to breed you, secure the future of the Lin Kuei, fuck until it takes

you cry as he fucks into you, hips slapping against yours and filling the room with a loud squelching sound

he rubs at your clit, telling you that you’re such a good bitch, such a good whore, gonna fill you up with his seed, have you round and pregnant as much as he can as you take care of his children

you cry as your mind goes blank, and you whine as you go over the edge, he

he grunts as he buries himself deep inside of you and cums inside of you

he stays inside of you, trailing his icy fingers over your body as you try not to think about how you’re stuck here, but your body jerks and twitches underneath his fingertips and keeps you in the present

he starts thrusting his hips in and out of you again, and you whine, saying you can’t please, you can’t you’re too sensitive

he growls at you to take it, and one of his hands go to tug at your collar as he starts fucking into you again

he makes you cum on his cock over and over again, filling you with his seed until you’re just a drooling teary mess and your stomach slightly bulges

he rubs your stomach, mumbling under his breath, but you’re too far gone to hear what he’s said and you pass out as he starts to fuck you again

you wake up, and you’re mostly cleaned up, ice gone

you’re sore and tired, and you quickly fall asleep again and hope someone will come and save you

but no one comes, and you learn that the blue assassin is named Bi Han, grandmaster of the Lin Kuei

you wake up, not completely sure of how many days have passed, but Bi Han has let you out of the chains and explore around the compound as long as you’re on the leash behind him

he brings you to a meeting, body clad in nothing, and you sit by Bi Han’s lap as he waits for the others show

a yellow assassin walks and sees you in Bi Han’s lap, and he immediately complains that you can’t be out, that it’s too dangerous for you

Bi Han growls that you are protected with him around and to keep him mouth shut

a gray assassin puts his hand on the yellow assassin’s shoulder and says Kuai Liang, you should calm down

Kuai Liang, it seems his name is, has furrowed eyebrows, but he listens and sits down to listen to the meeting

you sit silently by Bi Han’s legs, picking at the floorboards as you wait for him to finish up, and he brings you back to your room and locks the door, leaving you alone and chained to the bed

it’s only a few moments later when you hear the door latch open, and you look up and find Kuai Liang and not Bi Han

he closes the door behind him and locks it and crawls onto the bed

you flinch as he touches you

he’s much warmer than Bi Han, much much warmer, so much that it burns, and you whimper at the temperature difference

he laughs and coos at you, saying you’re just too cute, too innocent, that you need to be protected, too pretty for this filthy world

he mouths at your skin as he mumbles the words, and you let him, too scared to try and fight back like you had when Bi Han had first brought you here

he pulls your legs apart and admires your pussy, already wet for him, and he crawls down to place his cheek on your thigh

he places his tongue against your clit, and you whimper as the heat scorches through you

he hums at your small sounds and laps into your pussy desperately, trying to draw out more sounds from you, and he brings his hand up to fuck you on his fingers

you whine at the feeling, fingers thick and hot, as he fucks you slowly, stretching you out for his cock

he looks up at you, and he hums into your clit at the sight of your head thrown back in pleasure

he doubles his efforts, sucking on your clit and humming around it, and the vibrations travel up your mind and make your mind go blank as you whine and cum on his tongue

he moans into your pussy as he moves down so his nose grinds into your sensitive clit and he licks at your pussy to collect your release on his tongue

he mumbles out that you’re so sweet, so good for him, too good for this world, and he dives back into your cunt to make you cum on his tongue, he needs to taste you again

you cry as he keeps on lapping at your oversensitive clit, but he ignores your protests and keeps tasting you and fucking you on his tongue

you can’t think as he makes you cum on his tongue over and over again, groaning into you messy cunt as he grinds his hips into the bed and comes inside of his pants

but he can’t stop even as you start to push against him against all of your training

he doesn’t care, just can’t stop, and you end up passing out as makes you cum one more time on his fingers

Kuai Liang visits you more often after that

and then, the last one comes out of nowhere

you’re sleeping on the bed, cuddling into the pillows as you try to remember the days before, your past life before all this, but the memories are slipping and you can’t remember

can’t remember your home, can’t remember your friends, can’t remember your family, and all the days are starting to blur

and you can see your stomach growing, and by the way Bi Han had reacted at the sight of your plumping thighs and breasts and hips, you know you’re pregnant

but right now, you’re away from the both of them, letting your body rest

until you feel a hand brush over your stomach and something press into your back, hot and throbbing

an unfamiliar voice croons at you, telling you look so pretty carrying children, so so pretty and beautiful, that you’ll make a great parent, so loving and gorgeous as you’re filled with more heirs

he raises your legs up, cuddling into your neck and pressing kisses into your skin as he slides his cock between your folds to collect your growing wetness

he slides into you, and you whine at the stretch, but he kisses your neck and apologizes quietly as he fucks into you

you can’t do anything except take it as he fucks you and shower you in compliments, and his cock stretches you side and full, tip brushing against that sweet spot inside you

you throw your head back and whine as your oversensitive cunt clamps down on his cock and cums all over him all too quickly

he coos at you and tells you that you’re so good for him as he continues to thrust his cock deep inside of you

you clutch onto the sheets as he makes you cum on his cock a few more times before he grunts and spills his seed into you, staying seated inside of you as he brings your leg down and wraps his arms around your ample chest

you sob and whimper quietly as he tells you you’re so pretty for him, for them all, that you’ll give him and the others a big happy family

months pass, they continue coming to your room, bringing you out only if you’re hooked on your leash, and you’re starting to lose your mind

everything becomes harder as your belly rounds and grows plump with Bi Han’s child, and the men grow more handsy, more dangerous and aggressive towards their own soldiers

you cower in fear as they kill one of their men in cold blood for looking at you for too long, and they bring you back to your room and Bi Han stays with you, marking you in his kisses and hickeys

you’re never returning home, and you finally accept it, tears rolling down as your mind goes blank and forgets your past

#tangerine writes #tangerine answers #mortal kombat #mk #mortal kombat 1 #mk1 #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat smut #mk smut #mortal kombat x reader #mk x reader #mk x you #mk x y/n #bi han #bi han mk1 #mk1 bi han #sub zero #sub zero mk1 #mk1 sub zero #kuai liang #kuai liang mk1 #mk1 kuai liang #scorpion #scorpion mk1 #mk1 scorpion #tomas vrbada mk1 #mk1 tomas vrbada #tomas vrbada #bi han x reader #bi han x you

[jmliebert]

♡ when Aemond has a crush on you ♡ (modern) headcanons

he hides it well; Aemond is not the type to wear his heart on his sleeve. At first, it's hard to tell he has a crush on you because he is cold and seems indifferent. he observes, weights his options

he keeps his distance at first; both emotionally and physically. his behaviour might even make you think he hates you, though it's quite the opposite of course, he just have problems with showing his feelings :((

but (!) his piercing gaze always finds you. his eye follows you discreetly, hungry and restless

when he's near you, his body language is a mix of nervousness and inner pride. he wants to please you which is a weird feeling for Aemond, so his fingers may fidget a little, but still; he stands tall

he quickly learns your daily routine and starts showing up in places you frequent. these "coincidental" meetings are his way of staying close without being too obvious (in his head at lest)

you quickly learn he uses a lot of sarcasm, but you learn to enjoy this side of his, actually he's quite funny

if you ask him for a favour, he might act like it's a bother, but he always does it, despite his outward coldness

sooo.... as you can see he's a little lost, unsure, but(!) this one time when his brother Aegon makes crude, inappropriate joke about you, Aemond's anger flares and that's when he truly realises his feelings for you may run deeper than he'd like to admit

Aemond tries to be more straight-forward at this point. he assist you whenever he can, subtly offering help here and there, giving you this little smirks of his

he often asks you random questions about your life (often very specific), wanting to know everything about you and it's quite endearing that he's so focused on you

stil he respects your space! or at least tries to. he doesn't want to intimidate you or make you uncomfortable with his presence (most of the time), even though being near you all the time is what he would prefer

he spent many sleepless nights analysing your conversations and overall every aspect of you

long walks; during those you talk about trivial things and deeper subjects like psychology, philosophy, or your favourite books and movies. Aemond is silently enjoying when you put your hand on his arm during those walks. these moments are when he feels most connected to you, when he melts more and more...

because finding someone attractive is one thing, but finding someone attractive and genuinely interesting is a whole new level and at this point Aemond is charmed, really charmed

encouraged by this connection growing between you, Aemond asks you out. and let me tell you- he's SERVING! like he arrives at your home to pick you up, greets you with a gentle kiss on the hand and a soft smile, the kind that sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach

and he smells so gooooood!!!!! I just know it

at dinner he pulls out your chair, ensuring you're comfortable before taking his own seat. throughout the meal, he’s attentive and considerate, paying for dinner without hesitation (duhh)

his eye contact is intense, making it clear he finds you captivating

about the first kisss.... at first it's gentle and tentative, almost like he's testing the waters. he would begin by leaning in slowly, his lips brushing against yours lightly, his hand cupping your jaw. he would look deep into your eyes, waiting for silent approval and when he gets it, he smiles and you smile too

as the kiss deepens, you’d feel the intensity building. the touch of his lips would become firmer, his body pressing you closer as he wraps his arms around you. his grip might grow more insistent, almost aggressive, as he pulls you in tight, the kiss becoming more passionate and intense. there's a raw edge to it, as if he's letting go of the restraint he's been holding onto, revealing the fire and desire that’s been simmering just beneath the surface

when you gasp softly against his lips, Aemond is losing control. his hand moves down to grab your ass, pulling you even closer, your lips crash and then he suddenly halts. moving back just enough to regain some composure. he's breathing heavily, trying to steady himself, his eye fixed on you with a mix of desire and restraint

"We should probably slow down, but I really don't want to."

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

you can find more of my works about aemond ♡here♡

#prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond headcanons #hotd headcanons #modern aemond #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond has a crush on you #aemond imagine #hotd imagine #aemond fluff

[thewritersaddictions]

Bases: Negan Smith- Chapter 1 Her

Pairing: Negan Smith x Fem!Reader

Pov: Negan

Warnings: boundaries push, touching, cocky comments, the walking dead, zombies, trigger warnings, almost dying, special treatment, the wives, jealousy, being saved; Simon mentioned a little bit, maybe Dwight too, and Negans wives. masturbation,

Summary: Negan meets you when you come to the sanctuary doors. Wary of you at first he takes to watching you, and boy does he get interested quickly.

A/n- @ firefly-graphics for dividers

WC- 3.2k

The Walking Dead Master List // The Wanderers Master List // Series Master List

Y/n tries to catch her breath, but she just can’t seem to. Everything around her is swaying with her every step. She feels the sun pour through the sky, and it just ends up beating her up as she walks in the middle of the road. Trees line each side, giving no shade for her overheating body. She walks until she hears the indicators of the walkers; the sound grows louder the more she wanders due North. She worries for a moment until she sees a tall building that probably used to be a factory before the world went to shit. Then the sound of cars, the sounds of people. 

People! She doesn’t care if she doesn’t have enough energy to get to the gates; she’ll push through the hoarse voice from no water for at least the past few nights and days. She’ll push until someone picks her up from the searing hot cement underneath her. She manages to make it to the gate; her face is flush, and she ends up waving down what looks like a post guard. “Do you know where you are, Miss?” It’s a guy no older or younger than she is before Y/n can answer though she’s collapsing to the ground. She’s worn herself out before just making it. 

There’s a knock at the door, which means some shit is happening that Simon or some other fucknut doesn’t know how to handle. The knock on the door is different, rushed, almost a worried knock. “Come in.” I don’t look up until the person starts to talk; like always, it’s Simon. “Boss, um, we’ve got a problem.” My brow arches as I stare at Simon with a deathly glare. “A problem?” It’s not really a question, and Simon knows it. He just nods, and we walk in steadfast with each other. Lucille sits over my left shoulder. People quickly advert their stare as we step outside in the blaring heat of the Georgia sun. 

There’s a small, growing crowd around something rather intriguing. “Move outta the way, dingbats,” Simon shouts rather loudly in my ear as I look into the center of the growing crowd. “What’s this?” I ask one of the guards. His gun is slung around his back, the nose of the sniper pointing towards the ground. “I’m not sure, Duke over there said this girl waved and then collapsed outside the gates.” More intrigue. “Let me see.” The crowd moves, giving me a perfect view of the ‘girl’ lying on the hot ground. “You,” I say, pointing with the bat's end cap. The guy, ‘Duke’ visible, swallows, “She um… she was running towards the gate, and tried to wave at me, but before she could answer any of my questions, she just knocked out, hit the ground pretty hard too, Sir.” The guy says. I move Lucille making room for me to bend to my knees and get a more impersonal look at the ‘girl’ layin’ on the ground. 

Her skin is red and peeling in some places on her face and shoulders. Her hair is out of her face. Her face looks almost hollow like she hadn’t had water in days, maybe weeks. But she’s wearing what looks like an excellent proper pair of boots and jeans, and the first thing I think of next is, “Did ja check for bites?” I ask the whole crowd, and the Duke guy answers again. “Already checked her out, nothing, no bites or anything, Sir.” He says; I motion for Simon to come over, “Why was this so fuckin’ important, huh Simon?” he glides a hand through his messy hair. “Cause I figured you want to say what happened to the girl.” Simon never really gave a shit, didn’t take orders to well, and somehow always managed to not fuck up but still fuck up my shit. 

“Yeah, dumbass take her to the damn doc. What the hell you waiting on me to say that for.” I mutter to myself as I watch the two post guards pick her body up stiffly. Causing the both of them to alost tumble over. I roll my eyes at the action. “Simon.” I shove the bats handle into his hand. “You tow lacklys, get back to work i’ve got her.” The inner monologue tells me that I know it will always be me who has to take care of the dark shit, the bad shit, and the good shit. Nobody else. Simon close behind me, as the women lay limp in my arms. 

She had yet to open her eyes as the cool air inside the sanctuary hit her cheeks, her arms, and any other exposed skin. She didn’t even rustle as I walked her limp body through the doorway. “Dr. Carson, you can stop whatever the fuck you’re doin’ now. Help this women here.” I set her down on the cot, her head falling back along with her hair into the shitty pillow provided in this makeshift ER. “What… What happened?” Dr. Carson wasn’t the village idiot by any means, but it would nice if for once I didn’t have to tell the damn idiot what happened and he could just go do his fucking job. “Carson, just do your fuckin’ job or I swear to the god that probably fucked off already I will make your postion available again.” He shook his head, and got to work. Simon handed Lucille back to me, as I took a seat in those uncomfortable waiting chairs. 

“Looks like she has some burns some serious” Carson said looking over at me. An arch brow, and he was on the way to solving the whole damn thing, “Nothing a little bit of antibotic cream can’t fix. She’s also very dehydrated, so I’ll need to get her pumped with some fuilds before she can… before she’s well enough to talk with you Sir.” Carson mumbled out, I nodded my head and started to turn out of the room. “You said she needs fluids.” Carson nods his head, as he goes to get bandages wraps for her burns. “Bring her to my room, we should show our new guest the best care, right Carson?” He nodded with angst. 

“Are you sure… Sir, do you think that’s the best course of action. We don’t even know where this fuckin’ lady is from” Simon as his ratty, trash talkin’ fucking mouth never shut the hell up sometimes. I turned quickly catching his normal leaned back attitude off guard. “I think you would know me by now Simon. It’s a game, it’s always a fuckin’ game.” Simon stood still for a moment, and then nodded. 

An hour later there was a knock on my bedroom door. “It’s Dr. Carson with the Jane Doe.” He said through the door. I rolled my eyes, the clink of the gin bottle hitting the glass table rang my ears as I got up opening the door. This time two much larger guard held the Jane Doe on a cot. Less prone for her fall and get even more hurt. “You said you wanted her here sir?” Carson asked as if the first time I said wasn’t good enough for him. I look over at the Jane Doe. Her shoulder all the way down to her arms are covered in the white bandages. Her face isn’t though which is nice. “Come on in then.” I open the door wide enough for the large men to walk her in and place her on the couch adjacent of the bed. “I’ll get some fluids going in her and then I can come back in a few…” I cut him off, “No need doc, I’ve got it from that point. Don’t need someone in and out of my fuckin’ room every couple of hours.” He nods his head vigorously. I know what I’m doing, and there’s more I wanna know about this mystery Jane Doe. 

“Well hello there sweetheart.” The women in front of me is opening her eyes. It took nearly two days to get to this point. For nearly two days I have extra patrol out making sure that nobody followed this young women here. No need to be gettin’ ambushed right now. Her eyes go wide and when she opens her mouth to talk nothing comes out. Her nails scrap at her throat. “You need something to drink?” I’m quick to get up and gather a glass of water for her. Her hands are clammy when they graze past mine to collect the cold cup of water. The needle in her arms ache I can tell just from the look on her face. “We’ll take that out later, but for now why don’t you not rush your recovery.” I said as soft as I can. She looks like someone just told her that the world was starting all over again. 

She clears her throat, and for the first time I hear her voice. It’s angelic is a soft, fairy sort of way. “Where am I?” She ask looking around the room. “A settlement, the Sanctuary.” She looks over at me, beautiful eyes shining back at me. For the first time it’s odd to around a women who isn’t appalled by me, or faking it all together. She pure, and innocent in so many moldable ways. “I promise that i’ll be out of your hair before you even know that I was here.” She promises me, I humm. Then look over at her fluid drip, and the bandages on her body. “I was thinkin’ that you could stay here for a while. At least get yourself settled before you go back out in that hot Georgia sun. 

“So Miss Jane Doe, do you got a name?” I ask her as my words sink into her head. She clears her throat again taking another large gulp of water to coat her throat. “My name is um…Y/n.” She says with a little smile. “And you wer travelin’ alone out there?” I ask her, “Yeah.” She says nodding, she looks far of into the distance staring up at one of the ceiling tiles. As if she’s remembering someone she’s lost. I clear my own throat bringing her attention back to me. “I’ve ask that the doc, keep you here in my room. I wouldn’t suggest that you go out right now. Dr. Carson and I agree that you’re a little too fragile for that eveiormnet right now.” I said coaxing her into a choice she had no say in. She nodded, “My pack?” She asks, “I almost forgot.” I reach behind the coch she’s laying on. “Thanks.” She says with a small smile, and once more our hands graze each others. 

Hours later after a rather a surface level introduction with Y/n about where she came from, why she didn’t have anything other then a knife, and what the Sanctuary was about. There’s a soft knock on the door. It causes Y/n to shiver with anxiety. “It’s alright sweetheart, don’t worry about anyone trying to get ya.” “Can I come in, Negan?” I know that damn voice, Frankie. I boil over with anger and before I can get to the damn door Frankie is opening it. A sliky black dress drapped over her frame. I catch Y/n out of the corner of my eye; staring and watching the interaction between the two us. “Negan, I haven’t seen you in a few days…” Frankie stops short in her sentence. Scwoling at Y/n, as if she understands what the hell is going on either of them. “Frankie, go. I have a guest.” I say strongly grabbing her bicep and pushing her out of the room. 

The slam of door makes Y/n shriek, and when i turn to look at her she’s got her head cocked. “Who was that?” She asks timidly. “A… um… it’s just Frankie.” I finally manage to mumble out. “When was the last time you had a good bed to lay down in?” I ask in deperate need to change the subject. I don’t know just yet how to explain the wives to her, but then again when have I ever felt the need to explain myself to anyone. I push the feeling away, bury it in my stomach. Deep down. She shifts swinging her legs to the edge of the couch. She’s got pretty long legs even from the thick jean material that hid them. “I’d say at least since the first or second month of this shit.” I huff a laugh out, “Well how about this sweetheart. I’m gonna take this IV out, and patch you all up so you can get a good nights rest.” “But what about…” I shake my head. “I’ll take the couch, it’s been a while since I’ve booted to the couch anyways.” I jokingly say. 

Carson had left a few supplies here for me whenever Y/n was going to wke up so I could remove the IV, and bandage her up. As I do her skin is soft as least not where she’s been wrapped up with bandages. “So what was wrong with me?” She asks as she stares at my working hands. “You got a hell of a sunburn all up and down your shoulder and arms. Some antibiotic cream should fix ya up real quick.” I tell her, “And plus you were super fuckin’ dehydrated, what the hell were you doing running a fuckin’ marathon?” She giggles at my question as I tape down the gauze to make sure the blood doesn’t leak into anything. 

“Do you have extra clothes in that pack of yours?” I ask Y/n, she looks down and dig around. A minutes passes, and another, “Look mary poppins I don’t think there’s anything else the damn bag.” I might be getting a little frastrated, “So I’d take that as a no.” She nods her head. I whip myself around. Shifting through draws and a small closet of my clothes. “For tonight you can borrow somethin’ of mine. Sweats, and a long t-shirt so your bandages don’t come off during the night, Sweethearts.” I say passing her the clothes. Y/n stares down at them, and she get a little shy, well a lot shy. Bitting and pulling on her bottom lip. “Bathroom is over here sweetheart.” I watch as she walks towards the bathroom, and then the door shuts. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I ask myself. Dragging my hands down my face. There’s a shuffle from behind the bathroom door. “All good in there?” I ask, willing my voice not to break. I feel like a high school kid all over again with a stupid high school crush. “Um…” her voice sounds so tiny behind the door. “I don’t think this is gonna work.” She says shyly through the door. I stand to open the door, but she does before I can manage it. My long sleeve is loose on her frame, and the sweats don’t even take on her hips, but I guess that’s alright since the long sleeve is so big on her it acts as a dress. “That’s all good doll, how about I help ya get to bed.” I say reaching out my hand for her to grab. 

Yet again her hands are baby soft, like she’s never been outside a day in her life. No broken calluass, or rough patches. With our hand interlocked I walk her to the side of the bed. Moving the sheets back so she can easily get under the covers. She isn’t graceful about the plop down the bed. “A water bed!?” She asks, I actually laugh, “I wish sweetheart!” As Y/n shifts her legs to get under the covers and onto my side of the bed. I get a flash of her pink worn panties. 

I have to swallow down the groan of sexual frautration, maybe I should have taken Frankies offer. Pushed her outside the door, and fucked her stupid mouth shut. I shake my head, and I watch as Y/n starts to get snuggled into the cool fabric. I don’t grab the other pillow fromthe bed, I just make my way towards the couch. Cleaning up the medial mess I made earlier. I lean back into the coch, closing my eyes and all I can see is the pink panites. The coarse hair that prickled to come through the fabtic.

My cock stirs to life in my tights blue jeans. I can’t see Y/n’s face due to the dim lights in the room, but her snores are a good alert that’s she fast asleep. I close my eyes again and the flash of her nipples through the old shirt of mine makes me swallow down a moan. A hard on from a girl I know nothing about, a fuckin high school kid. All I can think of is the pink pussy that lays behind the pink panties, the tits that would bounces as I fucked her raw. I unzip my jeans, and pop my hard cock from my boxers. 

The tip is leaking pre-cum that I end up just using as lube. Pumping myself slowly at first until my eyes fall shut and all I can imagine is the sounds that Y/n would make when I fucked her up agaisnt the headboard. Or how good her pussy probably tasted. My cock is coated with my pre-cum, and so is my hand. The sounds are delicious, the sound of the squelching as the soft pad of my thumb over over the head of my cock and I end up just a pile of fuck, shits, and graons as I come all over my chest. 

“Fuck.” My breath is ragged, I haven’t come that since I was much younger and a whole lot ballsier. I throw my shirt off my shoulder and wipe down my tummy, and chest. Discarding the ruined shirt to a pile of other thrown clothes.

Completed on: 08/10/23

Posted on: 08/12/23

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[banannabethchase]

Brew and Me - also on AO3

~

Claudio's finally gotten the opportunity to visit the small coffee shop he's been lusting after, and Wheeler tags along.

~

For @rosabellebelieve because she deserves smiles <3

~

Wheeler wakes up to his alarm blaring, blinking away the sleep. He slaps at the bedside table and answers without checking the name. “The fuck do you want?” he grumbles, shoving his face back into the pillow.

“Wake up, Wheeler,” Claudio says, sounding way too cheery. “I’m downstairs. Have been for a bit now, love. Come on.”

Wheeler groans and rolls over. Claudio’s side of the bed really is cool. “Why do you do this to me?” he sighs, sitting up. “Normal people sleep past,” he checks the clock, “eight in the morning on a Sunday, fuck.”

“You agreed to go on a coffee tasting,” Claudio says. “The appointment is at nine. You should be getting ready now.” Wheeler rolls his eyes and stands, going for the closet.

“You’re lucky I showered last night,” Wheeler mutters, getting dressed.

“Of course I am,” Claudio says, and he’s unfairly perky. “If you hadn’t, I would have woken you up when I woke up.”

“If you ever wake me up at five in the morning on the weekend, I will lock you out.” Wheeler can’t help but smile at Claudio’s excitement though. It’s an appointment at a small local coffee shop that Claudio’s been lusting after since a late night google search a few months back, and they finally got a Dynamite date in the area. They extended their stay a little, just to get the appointment.

“You would not,” Claudio replies. “Now come down to the lobby.”

Wheeler brushes his teeth and does his best to style his hair and beard, then makes his way downstairs.

Claudio looks cozy in a double breasted coat, a little warm for the weather but the effect is more than worth it.

“Hey,” Wheeler says, leaning down to kiss Claudio. “You already taste like coffee.”

“I had to have my morning brew.”

Wheeler rolls his eyes. “Come on. I have the keys.”

Claudio tries to grab him out of the way to drive, but Wheeler dives into the seat before Claudio can get there.

“I,” Wheeler says, grinning up at Claudio, “am driving.”

Claudio huffs, a tiny smile playing at the corners of his eyes. “Fine. I’ll let you chauffeur me.”

“Let me,” Wheeler scoffs, starting the car as Claudio makes his way around. “You’re such a dick.”

Claudio slides into the car. “What about dick?”

“Buckle up.”

Wheeler may or may not disregard some speed limits as they make it to the coffee shop, and he’s convinced he’s taken a wrong turn as he pulls into the driveway of what looks like a sweet little New England Cape with blue shutters and a red door.

“Are we sure this is the place?” he asks, hand still on the wheel. “It feels…homey.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Claudio asks. “It’s correct. Look.” He points to a miniscule sign Wheeler can barely make out. Brewology with Steph.

“I still think it’s a stupid name,” Wheeler says, stepping out of the car. “What is Brewology? Who’s Steph?”

“Steph is a highly qualified, extremely experienced taster,” Claudio says, and he adjusts his coat in a way that makes Wheeler get a little hot. “We’re in good hands.”

As he steps out of the car, he resists the urge to suggest something else that could go in Claudio’s hands, and walks next to him to the shop.

“Ah!” a woman says as they walk up. Wheeler has to presume she’s Steph. “Welcome. The two of you must be my nine o’clock appointment.”

Claudio nods. “Yes, I am Claudio, and this is my partner, Wheeler Yuta.” He grins down and it flares warmth in Wheeler’s chest. “Glad to be here.”

“Welcome,” Steph says. Wheeler had expected someone pretentious and a little obsessed with themselves, maybe demanding attention and respect for their talent without proving they deserve it yet.

Instead, Steph is a tall, short haired woman who talks about coffee as casually as Wheeler can rattle off wrestling stats. She and Claudio connect immediately, which gives him the chance to scan the place and get an idea of what’s going on. It’s still got the typical bones of the design of a Cape, but each room provides a different coffee lover’s fantasy. Normal coffee makers, filters, espresso makers, and French presses line the walls of a large kitchen. There’s multiple rooms lined with jars of coffee beans. He’s not a fan of the taste of coffee, but the smell he finds to be an immediate comfort. He’s woken up dozens of times to that smell floating in from the kitchen where Claudio and his obscenely early wakeups brew a pot of his personal favorite, and this building echoes with the scent like it’s built into its foundation. He peers around as they enter a new room to see that each shelf is labeled with a style or location or region where the coffee was grown. Wheeler doesn’t know quite what the words mean, but he knows they’re important from the way Claudio gets excited about them.

The place feels homey in a way Wheeler hadn’t expected. But he likes it.

“Alright,” Steph says. “We’re here to taste, not to talk. Let’s get started.”

He’d expected a few brew options, maybe different spices or whatever to add like Starbucks has at their counter.

He didn’t expect to follow Claudio as he points to random jars that Steph takes down and hauls to the kitchen. Wheeler tastes so many coffees he thinks his brain hurts. He fakes using phrases that Claudio and Steph throw around like a new language.

“I sense a hint of chocolate.”

“The caramel on the back of that cup is delightful.”

He gets a weird look when he says, “Sorry, this one tastes like burning tires,” but Claudio takes another sip of the same cup and frowns.

“You have a point,” he concedes, and puts down the cup. “I think this one is less than a preference, Steph.”

“That’s the case for many tasters,” Steph says, moving the bag of beans away. “It’s a unique blend that most people don’t particularly enjoy.” She turns, smiling at Wheeler. “You have a sensitive tongue, Mr. Yuta.”

It takes everything in Wheeler’s body not to say something wildly inappropriate. “Can I try that chocolate cherry thing one again?” He asks. “I can still taste burning tires.”

Claudio slides him the coffee and Wheeler takes a sip. Now that he knows what a bad coffee tastes like, he supposes, he can appreciate one that tastes the way he wants.

Like a switch, he gets it. The next few he’s able to actually describe. Not as well as Claudio, of course, and nothing close to Steph, but they start to nod along when he describes brews as having a plum taste or reminding him of a woodfire.

“Now,” Steph says, once Wheeler’s buzzing with caffeine and has tasted something like 25 different kinds of coffee, “the conclusion of the tasting is for you two to choose your favorite blend.” She smiles at them. “You could choose a single brew, if it’s to your liking, or you can create your own blend of flavors and underlying tastes.”

“Not the burning tire,” Wheeler says. “Other than that, Claudio? It’s all you.”

Claudio nods, brow furrowing. “I take that challenge with pride.”

It’s a bit like watching a mad scientist, as Claudio puts together flavors and mutters to himself.

“He’s really into coffee,” Wheeler says. He’s not sure if he’s telling this to Steph as an explanation or an apology. “Like, really into coffee.”

“I can see that,” Steph says. She leans against the table and takes her own mug, the one that had been sitting on a back counter, and takes a sip. “You know what the weird thing is? I prefer my coffee with sugar and milk, but I do appreciate all the flavors, you know?” She takes another sip. “But it is much easier to discern the individual personalities of each coffee without any additional details.”

Wheeler nods, like he’s not the kind of person to chug a java chip Frappuccino and call it a day.

“Aha!” Claudio says, eyes triumphant after a sip. “This is it.” He holds the cup up to Wheeler’s lips. “Try it and tell me what you think.”

Wheeler sips. He can taste cocoa, a little cherry. Some hints of spice and wood smoke in the back of it.

The problem is he still doesn’t like it. At all.

“Yeah,” Wheeler says. “That’s – that’s my favorite out of all of them.” He smiles at Claudio.

“You still hate coffee, don’t you,” Claudio says, and at least it looks like he’s fighting a grin.

“Not on purpose!” Wheeler says. “It’s just – look, coffee’s mostly your thing, and I like…” He trails off. “Well, I like you.”

Steph makes a little squeak. “Sorry!” she says. “That was just really sweet.” Her smile turns into a bit of a grimace. “I’ve had couples where one partner doesn’t like coffee come in and they will be just miserable to their partners, you know?” She fades back into a smile. “It’s nice to see the opposite.”

They make small talk as Steph packs up Claudio’s blend of coffee and wraps it with a bow. “And there you are.” She beams at them. “I hope the two of you have a great evening. You have a flight tonight, right?”

Wheeler nods. “Couple hours from now.”

“Make sure to keep that in the bag and put it in checked luggage,” Steph says. “You don’t want TSA getting handsy with it.”

“Duly noted,” Claudio says. He flashes one of his pretty smiles at Steph. “Thank you so much for your assistance. Next time we’re in town we will certainly stop by again.” He holds out his hand and Wheeler takes it as they make their way out of the store.

“So you really don’t enjoy coffee,” Claudio muses, thumb rubbing Wheeler’s skin. “I thought 27 would change your mind.”

“It’s not, like, a switch,” Wheeler laughs. He lets Claudio push to the driver’s seat this time and takes the coffee out of his hands, resting the bag in his lap as he sits. He glances over at Claudio. “You really like coffee.”

Claudio nods. “It’s quite an adventure, tasting coffee.” He gazes at Wheeler, making Wheeler’s entire chest swell. “Similar, I think, to being with you.” He reaches out and rests a hand on the side of Wheeler’s neck. “Different experiences, flavors, notes. But always the same, at its base.” His eyes soften. “Always, at the root of it, something that brings me comfort.”

Wheler leans over the center console and kisses Claudio. He doesn’t quite understand the words he wants to say, knows they’re there but not how to form them with his lips, so he tries to show it with his kiss. Claudio kisses back gently, insistently, and it’s familiar like he’d said.

It’s comfort.

It’s forever.

“Claudio,” Wheeler says, his heart racing. He hadn’t planned to do it now. He fumbles in his pocket. It’s been there for weeks now, never leaving his side. “Fuck. I meant to – get out of the car, okay?”

“Get out – why?” Claudio’s rarely baffled, but he follows Wheeler’s lead. Wheeler scrambles out of the car. The last time he felt nerves like this, the last time his adrenaline pumped like this, was Blood and Guts. When Claudio stands, Wheeler drops to a knee.

“Claudio Castagnoli,” he says, looking upwards. “Will you marry me?”

Claudio laughs and throws his head back. “Wheeler, you madman, I was planning – I was supposed to do this!” He drops down to Wheeler’s level. “Yes, of course.” He leans in and kisses Wheeler with fire behind it. “You always have the jump on me, don’t you.” He rests his forehead against Wheeler’s. “Would you believe me if I said I have a ring in the dresser at home?”

“Possibly,” Wheeler says.

Claudio strokes Wheeler’s jaw, pressing his lips to Wheeler’s cheek. “Will you let me propose to you later?”

“Yes,” Wheeler says, wiping an errant tear from his cheek. “Now. Let’s get home.”

Claudio shakes his head. “Certainly not.” His smile turns a little devious. “I think we should find a hotel room and reschedule our flights, no?”

Wheeler grins at him. “Yeah. Yeah, I think we should.”

~

Mini Playlist: Starving - Hailee Steinfeld Numbers - The Cab Speechless - The Veronicas Forever and For Always - Shania Twain

#ClaudiYoots #Hello this is fluffy for rose!!! I had so much fun with the fluff!! #But get checked for cavities after this #wtf i like wrestling now??? #in which sara writes

[eruden-writes]

Shel Station (Mechanic Ork x Reader) - Part 1

@lovestruckheifer suggested this when I was asking for prompts:

Something wholesome with a pig-headed/faced orc. Can't really find anything wholesome with this type of orc.

Perhaps the orc is from the country side and with their partner in a city. Unfamiliar and overwhelmed but they are with their partner who is familiar with the sights and sounds.

I did a different direction than a country-side orc going into the city.

Oh, and I decided to make this one an ork, instead of an orc.

---

In any other circumstance, you’d have found the scenery beautiful. Long expanses of orange-red sand with the occasional cacti or cluster of dried bramble. Mountains in the distance, like sleeping giants. A bright blue sky with a lone buzzard circling overhead. Heat waves rising off the empty highway ahead and behind you.

However, in this case, your fucking rental car broke down. And all you see is dust and an opportunistic scavenger bird, waiting for you to die.

It took hours on the phone with a rental car rep to figure out what to do. You wasted nearly half a tank of gas, just blasting the A/C while just waiting to hear back from Chad or Rachel or whatever basic names the call center reps had. Once they confirmed they had found a mechanic willing to tow you, it took another hour for the greasemonkey to arrive.

Fifteen minutes before the blue tow truck arrived, the gas fumes ran out.

Needless to say, you are not in a great mood - and agonizingly sweaty - when the mechanic pulls up. As the driver maneuvers the truck in front of your car, you climb out of the rental. It feels worse outside. The sun blares down on your body from above, no longer directly overhead, thankfully, but still high in the sky.

You’ve already changed into as few clothes as possible, which means your lightest pair of shorts, a tank top, and a pair of sandals. Stil, you were dripping with sweat.

When the driver steps from the cab of their truck, you wildly wonder how they can deal with wearing so much in this heat. Your feet sweat just looking at their scuffed up steel-toed boots and you cringe at the thought of wearing the same dark blue coveralls. On their chest, an embroidered name tag displays ‘Shel’ under which ‘she/her’ is displayed..

It’s only when your eye settles on the mechanic’s beefy green arm you realize they’re non-human. Your eyes flick to their face as they approach, finding small tusks jutting from full lips beneath a pig-like snout and . Their blondeish-red hair is long on top, pulled into a bun, while the sides are shaved short.

“You’re the mechanic?” You gawp, blinking as their shadow falls over you. They’re so tall - at least seven foot, maybe more - and you faintly wonder just how much muscle the baggy coveralls are hiding.

“Yes,” Shel pins you with a critical golden-brown gaze, one of her hands landing on her hip. As the weight of her hand pulls the fabric, you can see vague outlines of her musculature. Catching your stare, you shift your gaze to her face. You realize she has a beauty mark under her left eye and almost miss her next words. “Is there gonna be a problem with that?”

“No! Of course not!” Instant regret slams into your thoughts. She totally took your staring the wrong way. You raise your hands up, palms toward Shel as additional ungodly heat claws into your face. Under her unimpressed gaze, you begin to babble, “I just… it’s hot and I was prepared to deal with a guy and you know what car guys are like.”

For an agonizing beat, she stares down at you, before finally giving a nod. “Exhausting.”

“Haha, good one,” you laugh, but the giggle trails off as she raises a critical eyebrow. Once again, the words babble from you, as you point helplessly to your car with your thumb, “Like car exhaust, right?”

For a dreadful beat, silence bubbles up between you two. With you awkwardly cringing out a smile while the ork mechanic stares down at you, like you’re a strange sort of bug.

“You don’t take the heat well at all, do you?” She narrows her eyes, a curl of amusement making her lips curve into a smile around her tusks as her snout wrinkles. The temptation to run your fingertip along her snout’s wrinkled ridges rises up and you quickly slam it back down. She nods back to her still-running vehicle, before walking past you. “Hop into my truck while I get ‘er hooked up.”

Though the allure of air conditioning is strong, you still half-turn back to Shel as she inspects your rental. “You, uh, you don’t need help?”

“Nope.” Pure confidence as she opens the driver side door and shifts the car’s gear stick. A little too late, you realize you left the keys in the ignition when she arrived. She speaks a little louder, an insistent edge to her words. “Get in the truck before you pass out.”

Finally, you nod and head to the truck, your shoulders hunched. As soon as you climb in and slam the door shut behind you, you heave a sigh and sink into the passenger seat. The cold air on your flushed cheeks is a salve. You’re certain you’ve burned in the sun, even though you’ve barely spent ten minutes outside.

Then again, there might be another reason why your cheeks feel so warm, you realize, as you find yourself watching Shel through the rearview mirror. In the span of time it took you to get to the truck, she has the hood of your rental popped open. She seems to be giving it a critical once over, fiddling with parts you can’t even guess the name of.

As she leans over the engine, the coverall pulls tight around her rear, and you snap your attention to the truck’s dashboard.

There is no way you’re ogling your mechanic! She’s just doing her job! Miserably, you press your hands to your cheeks, realizing how fast your heart is thrumming and how graciously cold your hands have gotten in the air conditioning. Maybe it’s the heat that’s gotten to you. You’re not thinking straight.

As soon as that thought hits you, you giggle deliriously to yourself. Of course, you’re not thinking straight. And then the image of Shel’s beefy forearms slides into your brain, like a fuck boy sliding into your DMs.

You barely choke down a stressed whimper before the driver’s side door opens.

“Alright, it looks like there’s some magic dust buildup. Probably not from your trip, unless y’drove through, like, five wizard’s storms on your way out here.” Shel dusts her hands off on her coverall pant legs, before climbing into the driver side seat and shutting the door behind her.

You stare at her, trying not to think how little space there is in the truck cab. You’re distracted by a droplet of sweat coasting down the side of her throat, disappearing under the collar of her coveralls, as she continues, “Looks like there’s some overdue maintenance, too. I’ll take a better look at my garage.”

You try to forget the thoughts you had moments early and force your eyes to turn toward Shel’s face. “How long until I can get back on the road?”

“Like I said, I’ll take a better look at the garage,” she replies as she puts the truck into gear and slowly turns back the way she came on the highway. It’s easy enough, given how dead this stretch of road is. “Magic dust buildup can do a lotta weird things and cause problems you didn’t think were an issue.”

“Oh, okay.” Your eyebrows furrow as you stare out the passenger window, watching the desert and dust pass by. Your teeth worry at your bottom lip as you wonder what to do now. This roadtrip through the desert wasn’t meant to last very long.

You had been trying to get back home after visiting friends in the obscenely hot part of the country. The only reason you chose to roadtrip back home was thanks to all the flights around your friend’s city being grounded, thanks to an abrupt gryphon migration diversion.

With all that in mind, you weren’t sure if you had the funds for a new rental or to stay at a hotel until the current rental got fixed. Hell, you weren’t even sure where Shel was taking you. Did she even operate in a town? Or was she an isolated garage, out in the middle of an infernal hellscape of heat and dust?

“Dustrun doesn’t have much, but it’s got what you need.” Shel seemed to pick up on the apprehension descending on you. Though she keeps her eyes on the road, even as she addresses you. “We’ll get you a place to stay and eat until your car is fixed up or until the rental agency sends you a new one.”

Another sigh heaves through your chest. “Thanks, but I don’t know if I’ll have the funds to pay for stuff.”

“I’ve worked with Enterprize Rental Firm before, they’ll cover your room and the costs of repair.” Shel says this so matter-of-factually, you feel a little bit of tension ease from your body. Not entirely, but some. “You just gotta pay for what you eat. Or work it off in the diner, I s’pose.”

That doesn’t sound so bad, you think, as you settle into the seat a little further. Your eyes turn back toward the window, watching the cacti and rocks skirt by. Overhead, sparse and wispy clouds had journeyed into the sky, just as dusk began approaching.

The rattle of metal and the rush of the air conditioning play as ambient background to your dawdling thoughts. Before you know it, your eyes droop and the toll of being stranded out in the desert has whisked you away to sleep.

#ork #orc #monster lover #monster fucker #exophilia #exo writing #second person pov #monster x reader #monster x y/n #monster x you #shel #shel station #idk how ya'll put up with my titles lol

[yymiya]

shoutout to the vampire!diluc fic i started in march and never finished because of exams & uni... this was the first scene LMAO

This is the third letter in five days.

There are likely a number of others, led astray by the blizzard, beaten down by the fall of snow, but precisely three have reached his hand. The terrain here is beautiful, if fatally unpredictable and volatile. Lines of correspondence are often clipped by the conditions much sooner than intended—this, Diluc is acquainted with.

Yet, once more, his falcon drifts along the howling wind and dives down to perch on her master’s raised arm, and he knows the parchment fastened to her leg is not the biweekly report of the Dawn Winery’s affairs that he awaits but something else entirely.

Ordo Favonius has been unusually, frustratingly persistent as of late.

How typical, intercepting his commercial communications to deliver a message—several, rather—of their own without a care for the routine they disrupt. They must have forgotten that he intends to complete this journey alone. He doesn’t need their aid, or their ingratiating, sickly words and void oaths. 

Diluc halts. His boots kick up a gust of powdery snow. It settles between his boot buckles and the creases in his trousers. 

He should read the letter. For what reason would they write him, if not one of great importance?

The others had been scorched, set aflame before the parchment was unravelled to reveal more than the Favonius Coat of Arms. He typically finds a vestige of satisfaction in allowing the stamped ink to smoulder and fall away but...

It isn’t there.

Instead, the letter bears the emblem of his family name.

His falcon is dismissed. She glides through the dull evening and seeks refuge atop a high branch. Only once she begins preening does Diluc’s attention return to the parchment clutched in his fist.

He gouges the Ragnvindr crest with a blade, bending one knee to smear the ink in the snow. It isn’t necessary. Each letter he keeps is then stitched into his jacket lining, but this needless routine of self-preservation is familiar, tried and true.

He stands. Narrowed eyes flick across the page. His sight is obscured by the snowflakes mired in his lashes but he blinks them away, each word bolstering something within him that he wishes not to address.

The anger that festers is white-hot, spiking at the edges until each facet of his being stings.

Only Kaeya is this bold. Hiding behind a crest to which he no longer belongs. Using that horribly sapid handwriting that they had been taught together in their youth. Pretending that he is owed a favour, as though a decade of those weren’t enough.

Diluc presses the back of his hand to his mouth, eyes tightly closed. That isn’t it. Much of his anger directed towards Kaeya faltered with the searing of rain-soaked flesh. Mere vestiges remain.

It seems time away has done little to assuage his distaste for the Knights.

Onyx flames teeter between the ridge of his index and the parchment, but the strange light dissipates with the tremble of his hand. For now, he tucks it into his inner pocket and takes shelter beneath a tall pine.

His falcon keeps watch from above. If a commotion emerges nearby, she will notify him, but Diluc must think for the time being.

The letter is simple, devoid of Kaeya’s flowery, placating language and double entendres, and the message simpler: Inspector Eroch has been purged from the Knights of Favonius and Diluc is permitted to return at last.

The fulfilment of a promise should be gratifying—one more senseless bastard driven out of Mondstadt—but Kaeya’s warning to proceed with caution should not be taken lightly. Eroch’s allies have not yet exposed themselves to the investigation, but they are there, and several of their covert workings presently cause instability within Ordo Favonius.

Despite their differences, Kaeya's judgement is trusted. After all, they were reared by the same hand, the same goal. Their minds are intrinsically tethered together.

Still. Diluc is nothing if not saddled by duty. A legacy sits beneath his skin, bitter and empty and surrounded by stagnant, aged blood. It is Mondstadt that earned his devotion; his family and friends, however few remain. He has a duty as a child of the wind.

He sighs, working his jaw. What choice does he have? They—

They will rescind his exile. They will forgive his transgressions.

This existence is a lonely one, but whether the warm winds of the city will thread him together, he isn’t certain. The community would shun him if they became privy to the truth. Each patrolling knight, complicit or otherwise, would serve as a heavy reminder.

Diluc pulls his glove taut. This place is callous and unwelcoming, a dead-end that stretches for miles of barren desolation. He has scoured all corners while lying in wait.

Gods, has he waited.

His falcon sounds up ahead. There must be trouble nearby.

Hasn’t he done all he can?

#the most unvampiric (thats a word now) vamp!diluc first scene to ever exist #i will work on this fic eventually #probably over the holidays #but those arent till december #SIGH #fics #diluc x reader #vampire diluc

[quitethepirategal]

Alternate Universes;

THERE’S A LION LADY IN THE WOODS  ~ 

Vampirzyca ( Vampire ). 

There’s a lion lady in the woods, eyes gold and hair orange red.  Her cabin’s hearth is never lit and no man has seen her bed.  You see, she smells of ashes and freshly torn meats.  Shes too tall and too hairy and walks like a clothed beast.  And on moonless nights she will hunt, kill, and feast.  So if you see her, be polite, or you’re dead…

An au in which Jessica is a beastly witch and vampire.  Back story is relatively flexible but she has a very fixed set of rules to her supernatural existence.  Based very loosely in Slavic, Eastern European, and South East Asian mythology and inspired by the works of Emlyn Boyle and Tumblr user @stil-lindigo.

#au; THERE'S A LION LADY IN THE WOODS { vampirzyca } #x; A MOSAIC OF ME OWN MAKING { my aesthetic boards } #please dont reblog

[ibrithir-was-here]

This thing officially has plot now, hope you enjoy x)

Interlocutor

"Still haven't heard anything from them?"

Daniel looked up from where he'd been brooding on the beach to find Matthew hovering above him, coming down to rest beside him on the sand, giving Daniel a commiserating tilt of his head as he did so. "Maybe they're just busy?"

"No," Daniel said, unable to keep the worry out of his voice. "No they'd have let me know".

It had been a month since he'd seen or even heard from Wish. This was the longest they'd ever been apart since they were children.

His cousin couldn't always sneak away, but they'd always found a way to let him know beforehand if they'd be detained for a long while, and they'd never been gone this long.

"And besides what would they be busy with?" Daniel went on, "Desire doesn't give them anything to do but follow them around."

"Well maybe they're busy doing that then."

Daniel gave a huff of annoyance. He wasn't in the mood for flippant remarks just now. He was worried, really worried.

It wasn't just Wish's physical absence, he hadn't been able to get a feel on their day dreams either. The Endless didn't dream or imagine in the same way mortals did of course, and he couldn't get as clear of a hold on Wish's daydreams anyway as they were within another Endless realm and jurisdiction. But he'd always been able to at least get some sort of feel on them. Now it was like they were being blocked from him…

Dream had told him not to worry, that it was normal for the Endless to go long periods without engaging with each other. His mom and even Hob had told him that friends often started to talk less the older they got, that they were sure Wish would get hold of them soon enough.

But Daniel couldn't shake this feeling that something was wrong, very wrong.

"If I just had a way to get hold of them without having to go through Desire." He muttered, running a hand through his hair and giving it a tug as he tried to think.

It would be so much easier if he and Wish had their own sigils to contact each other with instead of having to go through…

Daniel stood up suddenly, a thought coming to him that he didn't want to waste anymore time in executing. In a whirl of sand that startled a loud squawk from Matthew as he too was pulled along, Daniel found himself in Dream's gallery, and he grasped the book-shaped sigil.

"Destiny, I stand in my gallery and hold your sigil, will you speak with me?"

Matthew gave another squawk of surprise before coming up to land on Matthew's shoulder.

"Still freaks me out a little each time you do the Boss Voice kiddo."

But Destiny's reply came before Daniel could make his to Matthew.

"Be welcome Daniel Hall, Heir of the Dreaming, Dream to Be"

Daniel stepped through without a second thought, Matthew clinging to his shoulder tightly as they entered the Garden of Forking Ways.

Destiny stood waiting for them, his tall form stil towering over Daniel, despite the recent growth spurt he'd had which had shot him up to Dream's human height. Daniel couldn't help but swallow hard as he neared the figure.

"What do you seek from me, child?" Destiny's calm voice echoed out from beneath his hood.

"It's about--" Daniel hesitated for a moment, unsure which name he ought to use in this case. But in the end he decided that Destiny, being Destiny, likely already knew about Wish's true name. "It's about…Wish."

The nod he received from Destiny seemed to confirm this, and so Daniel rushed on.

"I'm afraid something is wrong, something's happened to them, or is going to happen. I think they're in trouble. I haven't seen them in weeks and I can't reach them through their day dreams. I was hoping--if there's anything you can tell me…"

Daniel trailed off, suddenly wishing he'd thought ahead to plan a speech to explain exactly what he meant, the way Dream would have, instead of just rambling off like the worried teenager he was, who likely just sounded paranoid and maybe a little clingy if anything.

But Destiny's calm voice betrayed nothing of what he might be thinking of Daniel's explanation. He simply thumbed at his book and said, "I cannot tell you what will not be, Daniel Hall, only what will be, and that may not be what you wish to hear. I have told you this before when you came to me concerning your mother."

Daniel swallowed hard once again, remembering how desperate he'd been to find out if his mother would be able to beat her cancer or not…and how terrified he'd been at what the answers might be.

"At that time you chose to seek no further, to let Destiny run its course, no matter which way that might lead. Will you do so again?"

A cold weight settled in the pit of Daniel's stomach. Was Destiny trying to tell him that's what he should do? Simply wait and see what happened, let things play out as they would without seeking to interfere?

Maybe. But if something bad happened, was happening right now, and he could have stopped it…

Daniel felt Matthew give his shoulder a squeeze with his talons. He took a breath, gave the raven a stroke down the back in return, and made up his mind.

"With Mom…with Mom there was nothing I could do by then. I could only wait, and hope. But whatever's happening now with Wish and Desire, I might still be able to help. I think I should help."

Daniel couldn't see Destiny's eyes, but he tried to look into them with determination anyway.

"I at least have to try"

There was a moment of tense silence. Well, it felt tense to Daniel at least, he had no idea what Destiny was feeling, he just kept stroking at his book. Finally, though, the eldest of the Endless spoke again.

"I am Destiny, I contain all paths that will be. And yet I still find it strange, how often things come back to their beginnings in new ways. Dream That Is and Desire have great enmity between them, and will only aid each other if there is something to be gained or a greater cost to be avoided. And yet you, the Dream That Will Be, seek to aid Desire's sundered half with no thought of benefit but their welfare…"

"They're my friend," Daniel said simply, the best explanation he could offer. "My best friend, I love them."

"Dream and Desire were once the closest of all of us. It did not last. Perhaps what is happening is nothing more than a repetition of the pattern."

Destiny's words were not said harshly or coldly, but Daniel still felt as though he'd been slapped.

No, no that couldn't be what was happening. He and Wish might be Dream and Desire's heirs but that didn't mean they were them, not in this.

He couldn't, wouldn't let them end up like that. Not without a fight.

"I can't just let them go without even trying." Daniel declared, clenching his fists and standing straight, as though preparing then and there for a battle.

"Whatever is going on, I'm going to at least talk to Wish before I decide anything."

Destiny hummed slightly, a sound that could have meant anything. Determined not to leave without getting some real progress Daniel went back to his original question.

"Is there anything you can tell me to help me get in contact with them? Without Desire knowing about it?" He added quickly.

If there was one thing he was sure of, it was that whatever was happening would go a lot smoother if Desire wasn't involved.

Destiny considered him for another interminably long pause, before finally saying, "The pages that tell of the fate of Desire's child-self have yet to be written. I cannot turn them yet, I feel they are shifting between two possible outcomes."

Well. That announcement did nothing to calm Daniel's nerves, but Destiny wasn't finished apparently, as his finger skimmed down the page while his face stayed fixed on Daniel.

"However, you, Daniel Hall, Dream that Will Be, will gain an interlocutor between yourself and Desire's Child when you summon the Three Who Are One"

Daniel sucked in a breath, Matthew gave yet another squawk, this time laced with anxiousness that Daniel couldn't help but feel himself.

Right, guess he'd better start gathering some offerings then.

#my writing #endless heirs au #daniel hall #dream of the endless #matthew the raven #destiny of the endless #desire of the endless #wish of the endless #sandman fic #sandman oc #the kindly ones #the fates #sandman #the sandman

[polaroidcats]

15 questions

Thank you @squintclover for tagging me in this tag game!! <3 I loved reading your answers to these questions!

1. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYBODY? No, my parents just liked my name, and its meaning. My mum originally wanted to name me Ursula but my dad vetoed that name because he was afraid I'd get bullied in school.

2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED? Uhmmmm probably last week in therapy?

3. DO YOU HAVE KIDS? Nopeeeeeee just a fur babyyyyyy <3

4. DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT? Yeah, but I've been trying to tone it down more because sometimes it leads to misunderstandings.

5. WHAT SPORTS DO YOU PLAY/HAVE YOU PLAYED? I can't think of any? Not a huge sports person. Love watching roller derby though, I WISH I could play that.

6. WHAT'S THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT SOMEONE? Idk just their general vibes? And their hair and height and voice and things like that I guess.

7. EYE COLOUR? greenish swamp colour

8. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? ALL THE HAPPY ENDINGS PLS I don't like scary movies! I have watched exactly 2 scary movies in my entire life, and had my eyes closed or covered for both of them most of the time.

9. ANY SPECIAL TALENTS? idk what qualifies as a special talent? I taught myself to be ambidextrous out of boredom during online uni, so now I can also write with my left hand *insert bi joke here*

10. WHERE WERE YOU BORN? in a hospital :D

11. WHAT ARE YOUR HOBBIES? tumblerDOTcom!!1, reading (either political nonfiction books or ALL the fanfic), various arts and crafts, gardening, or just, lying in a hammock in the garden whilst reading, generally spending time in nature hiking, biking, swimming etc. I also recently also started playing the cello again more AND IT'S SO FUN!

12. DO YOU HAVE PETS? yes yes yessssss his name is apollo and i don't post enough about him so here's a pic:

he even has his own tag on my tumblr (#hungry greek god) but it's pretty empty so far. my former pet ella had the tag #my little roommate and she was adorable and i still miss her every day </3

13. HOW TALL ARE YOU? 176cm!

14. FAVOURITE SUBJECT IN SCHOOL? i think it used to be just all the language subjects, so english, french, german and latin (lol). can't relate to liking latin anymore but back then I LOVED it.

15. DREAM JOB? oddly enough I'm not a huge fan of the whole concept of jobs and capitalism, not sure what that's all about. but tbh as far as jobs go, i kind of have my ideal job? I've always said I want to do a combination of part time social work and part time something academic, like maybe at one point teach at a university or be part of a research team or something. And whilst that's stil far away I feel like I mightttttt be on a good path to get there which is honestly wild and incredibe and I don't want to jinx it!!

I never know who to tag in these games because I don't want to tag people who don't enjoy doing tags, so I'm not going to tag anyone specific buuuut if you want to do the tag please just feel free to pretend I tagged you, and then next time I'll know who to tag for real! <3

#tag fun #about me #squintclover #thank you for tagging me!! <3 #15 questions #hungry greek god

[fabiansteinhauer]

Gentleman

The great hall: hier könnte auch William Wade, also Thomas Gainsboroughs Gemälde des Captains der englischen Navy, des Zeremonienmeisters oder Protokollchefs hängen, wenn es nicht woanders hängen müsste, nämlich in der Victoria Art Gallery.

In der großen (Eingangs-)Halle hängen gerade 10 Portraits und Doppelportraits im großen Stil. Gainsbororoughs Doppelportrait der Hallets und ihres Hundes, dessen Wischmopphaftigkeit derjenigen von Mrs. Hallets Frisur kaum nachsteht, hängt hier gleich ums Eck: links neben Drouais' Portrait des Comte de Vaudreuil.

Nahezu alle Portraits stammen aus der Phase, der Thomas Vesting in seiner Geschichte und Theorie der Rechtssubjekte die Figur des Gentleman zugeordnet hat (und die er mit William Wades Bild illustriert hat.

Wie singen die Groben in England zu dem Portrait?

All at once I was struck with the portrait of Wade, 

Which tho’ like him in feature tis much too tall made 

And looks, like its master – ashamed of its trade 

For it’s drawn as if walking alone in the fields 

In a jauntee undress which the present mode yields 

Uncovered – as tho he intended to bow 

To an ox or an ass – to a heffer or cow. 

#vor dem bild #bilder bewegen #national gallery #prudentia bifrons #paarbildung #sir joshua reynolds #Francois Hubert Drouais #comte de vaudreuil #colonel tarleton

[scribe-of-stories]

Samuel Smith, 2, A Pact

The sky was exceptionally beautiful this evening. Dark clouds had brought a storm which lightened up to a light drizzle and turned the sky gray. The setting sun painted on that gray canvas with orange and purple. Rain fell down around me and made the most peaceful sounds as they hit brick, concrete, and puddles. I must have had some pull with a higher power to be dying in such a scene.

Three days was all it took. I had a life before this, measurably. My job as a lost and found type private detective was interesting enough to keep me busy and paid enough to keep me fed. I had hobbies and friends and connections. Nice normal human things. Three days ago I learned there were things that weren’t human. Three minutes ago I was flung out of a window by one of those things.

Shoulda known this was a bad case from the start. The pay was good, the job interesting, and I was extremely bored. Several families had pooled money together to get me to investigate an investigation; a serial killer case that the feds were getting involved with and keeping very hush. Was supposed to just get what details I could and tell the folks whose kids had died.

Then low and behold I was asleep one night and got visited by the murderer herself, though not physically. Told me the case was far weirder than it already looked, that the actual killer was something not human, and that her sister would be around to help when I woke up. That’s how I met Ashley, sister to a murderer and my new tutor in the weirder sides of the world.

She gave me a crash course in the “true world”, a way of things that humanity simply did not notice or were made to not notice. Magic was real, and the way to do it was to cut off a part of yourself to attain it. That naturally led to her telling me about this thing killing people, a husk maker she called it.

The way I understood it was that the more of yourself you give up, the more you can do. This thing had given up almost all of itself to something or someplace called Umbra; and it suddenly realized it did not want to give up everything. So here it was rampaging across my city taking the very thing from its victims that it had given to Umbra. All to become “human” again.

Ashley and I spent the next two days investigating new angles and learning more about this new world. I had eyes and training that Ashley didn’t, but she had information and literal magic. We made a good enough team, made good progress on finding this thing.

Day three came around and I decided to stay in and try and piece things together in my office. Sometimes being out and about, constantly surrounded by new information, made it hard to think; meanwhile I had one of those conspiracy theory boards in my office that helped me process. Ashley meanwhile was out casing places she thought the thing could be nesting in. As it turned out, if she had simply stayed with me she would have found it.

I had forgotten to eat lunch for so long that when I did go get food it could have been considered dinner. There was a local sandwich shop just across the street from my offices, and that was where I found it. Rather, that was where it found me. Human shaped but much too tall, arms and legs too long; it’s head was like a triangle but not quite. It always appeared peeking around corners to look at me, then ducking behind them to hide. Yet each time it did it was closer.

No one around seemed to notice the giant monstrosity, so I doubted I was going to be getting much help once it reached me. That was when the chasing began. Honestly, I’m real new to this whole magic thing so I do not know if physically running away actually helped me. I tried to find Ashley, which is what led me downtown towards a slew of abandoned buildings and factories. I couldn’t find her, but it found me.

It took a bite, I took a jump.

Now I was two floors lower and laying in a pool of my own blood. I pressed my hand to the spot it took a chunk out of, but found my physical self to still be there; yet I could feel something was very much missing. My head pounded, I had hit it in the fall, and I closed my eyes. If I was going to die I damn well intended to do it restfully. A picture formed in my mind fueled by a description Ashley gave me. She used fancy words and said “Imagine yourself as a vessel, and all the liquid it holds is what makes you human,” but what formed in my head was a shot glass, only about two-thirds full and leaking out of a crack.

It took me a moment to realize the rain had stopped. In fact, everything had stopped. No rain, no sound, no light. Plenty of pain though, so I guess I was still alive. I opened my eyes to find darkness around me and nothing beyond it. As if I had been picked up and dragged into some featureless, lightless, void. Save there was a pair of things present with me: a mask, and an umbrella.

“You are leaking,” it said, I assumed the mask, in a voice that sounded like it was attempting to be sensual yet at the same time it was coming from a nightmare beyond my human comprehension.

I of course responded in the only way I knew how when met with something that absolutely terrified me.

“Eat shit and leave me alone.”

It laughed. That was going to be a noise that I would hear in my nightmares for about the rest of my natural life.

“Faced with the end, yet still so resistant. You are wonderful.”

“Will you at least let me die in the rain before you eat me and or my soul?”

A shadow played across the mask and umbrella and revealed itself to be a hand. It passed over my face and all at once the pounding headache silenced.

“You will not die yet. Not until the Scavenger finds you again. I would prefer that not happen.” It’s mask shifted into what felt like a sitting position with the umbrella over it. Once moved, I again felt the rain silently fall on my face. “I wish a deal with you, one who looks and finds.”

Ashley had told me about this sort of things. It was what her sister had gone through to become what she was, it was what Ashley herself had done to gain a minor amount of power, and it was very much what the Husk Maker had done to become what it had. This was an entity from outside earth, a representative of some place else. Both that Place and this Entity were hungry for what was inside us; some like the Husk Maker took it forcefully. Others, like this entity, lead to far worse outcomes.

Yet, I did not want to die. That corner creeping thing had already taken a third of my being and was intent on taking the rest. I was going to become like those children it ate; would I even continue thinking after it was done? It was coming, and I had nothing to stop it. My silence had given the Entity reason to go on.

“I am in need of one who walks this realm, who can go places I can not. To be an ear where I can not hear, to be hands where I can not deliver, to be a mouth where I can not speak. In return, I will fill your cup with Umbra. You will walk roads others can not conceive of, shadows will be like clay. Others will ignore you at your wish. You will have a path away from the Scavenger that hunts you.”

It was a bad deal, and a tempting offer. Tailor made to make my job easier and more expansive. Hell, that was probably on purpose. I imagine either this Thing found me and waited for this opportunity, or these Things were simply attracted to those that fit their niche. Wasn’t sure which concept I liked less.

“I wont kill anyone.”

“I know this. Violence is not your nature. One does not use a pen to stab, when a knife is already available.”

Fuck. “I don’t want to hurt innocent people.”

“Anyone who plays our games is not innocent. I will never use you to harm those not aware.”

I imagine people got shittier deals than this. Perhaps it was because my very soul and consciousness was on the line if I declined, or maybe it was the idea of being a magical detective, but I was swayed. I reached a hand out, and that shadow of a hand from before took it.

“Let our names bind our contract together. Give me yours so that I may call upon you, then you shall have mine so that it fills what is empty inside.”

“Samuel Clark Smith.”

It told me it’s, and I felt full again. The mask left along with the umbrella and the shadows. Again I was laying in a red puddle beneath a twilight rain. I peered down the alleyway and jumped to my feet. That fucking triangle was there leaning out from the corner of the building. Fucker didn’t even try to hide this time, it just kept coming out.

I turned and ran from it, and found that there was a Way I had not seen before. An open spot in the side of a building, a door that in reality had been bricked up. Yet now the bricks were not there, and instead a world in gray scale lay beyond, and a short path away another entrance to somewhere else.

In the moment I was not exactly picky about escape routes, magical or otherwise. I leapt through the door and followed a path that others could not see; a path that the Husk Maker either did not or could not follow. My steps echoed as if walking through an empty room, and I was to the other door in an instant. It opened to my office, where Ashely was sitting on my couch fretting over her phone.

There was an unmistakable look of fear in her eyes when she saw me, and past me to the world I came from. As the door shut behind me she asked, “Samuel?”

#Lexical Earth #Samuel Smith

[libidomechanica]

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over so den, readfast ring the choir for comewhat am

grown, she skye, let still thate, Ancome fation me or youndement, the gain;

I he rough, nor contry did scrame at thunded tu-which violly blace: mour

have: but I decred needeside, and glute closophand breams, as it we

comes they mighs. Fault rease? My twish. And beneath city; One chauen ture, and have

drown my est from when we excussly powestreedeside which and

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angreato sike to keep glimpleepenable refooth toad, acreof thine.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 3 #149 texts #treochair

[shardsofswords]

The painting on my desk

So, in september of 2021, I went to a fantasy festival and bought a painting. It was by Paul Yperman, a french artist who attends multipe of these kinds of festivals and events all throughout europe and whose work i've been a fan of ever since i first saw it, on that same festival years earlier.

Here's some of his work (and his facebook https://www.instagram.com/ypermanpaul/?hl=en from what i know he sells his work online too, through facebook. So if you live in europe i highly recommend it)

As a younger teenager i'd bought the cheapest item in his shop, a small framed painting on paper, about a5 size, it cost about 10 euros at the time. It stil stands in my childhood bedroom, on my desk. But this time, i was older, i'd had a parttime job or a while, and i could afford an actual canvas piece.

My handbag was my grandmother's old one, she had jsut died and this was the first time i'm using it after my grandfather gave it to me. its smell reminded me of her. it had two facemasks in it that smelled like her too. I wore one, even though that's probably not hygienic. I gave the other one to a stranger who forgot his and couldn't enter the bus without one. It wasn't covid that killed her, it was probably fine. Maybe. When the smell faded i kind of regretted giving that second one away.

There was a painting in my grandparents' house of an old traditional windmill in their town that doens't exist anymore. My grandmother loved windmills, my father told me on the day of her funeral that she was delighted when the town they moved to, my childhood home, was in walking distance of more than 5.

It took me more than 20 minutes to choose a painting of Paul Yperman to buy. I'd wanted this for so long, and they're also beautiful. i'd gotten it down to two when i saw something in the corner of my eye. This one had a windmill on it.

That's the one i bought.

I carried it back home with me wrapped in paper, put it on my lap in the train and bus (it was tall enough that i could not see past it when i did that) and watched my every step, scared to death that something would happen to it.

It got home unscathed. but, because i was renting my student appartment, and didn't know if i was allowed to drill any holes in the walls, and didn't have anything for alternative options on hand, I didn't hang it, just unpacked it and set in on my desk, which was also my dining table, against the wall.

And it stayed there. I learned i was allowed to drill in the walls, and it stayed there. I discussed methods and placements with my parents, and it stayed there. I ate my dinner carefully to not splash any food or grease on it. It stayed there. I failed every single exam i took that year, and it stayed there. Like a momument to my executive dysfunction. Can't study, flake on the sport lessons my parents are paying for until the trainers text me worried if somethign happened to me (I don't answer. I don't tell my parents either.) don't hang the painting. I end the year technically allowed to continue my study, because in my country's system after you pass your first year you can take however long you like, but when i tell a study advisor i'm considering switching he tells me that's a good idea, because clearly this isn't working.

So i move back home, i go to a school that's only a one hour trip away, just short enough to make every day. I'm too scared to completely give up and don't officially move out of the appartment, just hire it out to another student. So all the furniture stays. But the painting comes home with me.

I ruin it immediately, i fail my first period at my new study so bad it is now by all accounts impossible for me to pass the whole year. I never actually unregistered from the old one, unable to let go, as i said. That turns out to have been the right decision. The student who was renting my room finds another place, I move back in. I'll have to make it work, somehow.

I pass my first exam there, i just barely fail the second, but last year for that very same exam i sat at my table for half an hour before turning in an empty answer sheet and leaving without making eye contact with the examinator, so let's call it an improvement. My therapist when i came in last time told me i was noticably more relaxed and comfortable.

I'm eating my dinner and wondering why, when everything is going much better than last time, does cooking and eating feel less fun.

And I look up and I realize

The painting stayed back home.

I convinced my mom to hang it in our living room a short few weeks before i stopped lying to her and admitted i was failing.

I am staring at my wall and i realize that i didn't look at it at all when i went back this weekend. For all that I hated myself for not properly hanging it up and what that meant about me whenever I saw it, it was a really beautiful painting. One i'd been planning for a full year to buy. One that i loved, that made eating my dinner alone less lonely.

Before it was on the living room wall back in my childhood home, it was back in that same old paper packaging i carried it home in ( I never actualy threw that away) standing in a corner of my bedroom. That exact space is now occupied by two old paintings from my grandparent's home. One of them is the one with the windmill. My grandfather isn't alive anymore either. They died 8 months apart. He wasn't there to offer me anything of his so from the attic i took an old school diary from his student days, where half the pages were falling out. And the paintings, of course. Since then, i've taken up bookbinding.

I am still looking at my empty wall.

I'd considered hanging it above my bed last year, to make the wall i saw first thing in the morning a bit livelier.

I've changed my mind. I want to hang it right above the my desk. With the other painting of the windmill next to it. they'll clash, the colors don't fit together. I don't care.

I'll have to make it work, somehow

#writing #my writing #personal #autobiographical #short story #a bit of a short story a bit of an obituary and a bit of an art recommendation #the painting on my desk #if you buy paul yperman's art you too can have a transcendent experience of grief for your grandparents and wasted youth! #while managing to find love and beauty in it eventually anyway

[fairy-strawberry]

life in montreal

I have lived in montreal for a year now. I have grown tremendously in this time. It feels hard to proccess at time everything ive been through. I have experienced a lot of ups and downs. I have been exposed to so many things I had dreamed of as a teenager, good and bad. I still feel imposter syndrom of calling myself an adult, an artist. I feel a bit isolated, like im not quite in touch with all of the refrences folks my age make but on the other end not in old enough to understand the refrences my older friends make. i know and have met so many people but I struggle to call most of them my friends. I have a few really close friends and have lost a few due to fsiled romance too. For the most part I feel happy and excited for my life but i have also been experiencing a lot of depression and anxiety, in different ways to what i have experienced in the past. my eting disorder is stil almost a daily struggle for me, however i finally have gotten help from my therapist, not that that has actually improved my mental wellbeing :-( Unfortunately my weight has fluctuated a lot through out this year. Overall I have gained around 15 pounds. It does make me feel a bit insecure. I struggle with comparison a lot. i am a very tall woman and I feel as though I take up too much space. being thin helped me feel small, but now I think I take up even more space. I have a strong desire to feel held and protected my men but me being taller than most of them causes a lot of anxiety and feelings of loneliness. I worry i wont be attractive. I hate that I have these feelings. Its so shallow, why do i base my confidence off of mens approval? The thing is i am also attracted to women or fem bodies, but I am finding it hard to explore my sexuality at the moment due to this need of approval and wanting to feel small with men. I feel a bit out of controll in my life. I worry that I am not smart or that I am not well read enough. am i boring? I think my eating disorder has taken away so much of the time I could have spent expanding my mind and consuming interesting content. My depression has left me feeling unmotivated to learn, to create. I live in such a wonderful city yet I feel out of place, un grounded. I come from a much more nature base city, closer to the ocean, mountains, forest, it was easy to escape the fast pace city life style, but here the city lifestyle feels all consuming. in many ways I am living my dream. i think i would ake my younger self proud, but I cant help but feel lost. I feel overwhelmed by all that I need to do or could be doing. I have not been organising my life at all. Over all this past year has been quite lovely, met interesting people, many of my values have changed for what I would believe to be the better, i feel a lot more confident in my being and in genral am proud of my self for taking on this challenge. A big thing in my life in the past has been goal setting. I think setting goals has been a really useful technique for me to feel motivated, on track, and in control. I have been neglecting taking care of myself alot lately. I think in someways I have this idea that taking care of yourself is un cool or selfish or what have you. My visual aesthetics line up with an unkempt, untaken care of lifestyle, but emotinally it is draining. l would like to take better care of myself, put a bit more effort in learning, growing, and caring. I think this effort would be so valuable in improvinbg my mental health, in increasing my confidence and lessening my anxiety. So some goal which I wish to get to are:

keeping organised

eat healthier

gental workouts

practice selflove

daily journal poems

get into nature

-> daily routine for organisation, self love and mental health

wake up early

write out todo list

20 min yoga

get ready for day

work or fun

clean up

create

shower

fun

journal

get in nature

sleep early

-> weekly todos

get healthy groceries

properly clean

laundry- clothes and sheets

weekly schedualing

run

do a bit of decluttering

[grey-tones]

Wear platforms anyways, tower above everyone

valid point, I already wear combat boots with a like 2 inch heel, but I have a lot of confidence issues when it comes to my height

#although finding out that i am not in fact 6 feet tall made me a little happy #im 5'10 #which is stil tall #5'10 body with a 5'6 mindset #platforms are sexy as hell tho #id wear them if i could feel comfortable in them

[guardiandae]

Ugh. I'm googling pics of Ryan Reynolds standing next to Josh Brolin because reasons. Height difference reasons. And I already know damn well what their height difference is, the real reason is because I'm fucking weak.

And then:

This is too much I hate them why won't they just kiss

ETA: I cant stop staring at this pic they're so adorable together but also Nate would be the perfect height to just???? Kiss Wade's neck????! Whenever he wants??!!!! Wade is defenseless plz im dying

#god i really love mcu #thank you so much ryan and josh #usually cable is drawn like he's 7ft tall and 600 pounds of pure muscle #which is insane bc wade is still drawn like hes 6ft 3 and 400 pounds of muscle #my point is that wade is thicc #but compared to cable he always looks breakable #which is nice #but now in mcu cable is shorter and im living fir it??? #so my fic premise is that #wade is taller but leaner muscle #so nate is stil beeg #i think thats accurate #i'm so thirsty #cablepool