#and force a double edged sword up your ass

[marchtothefuckingsea]

You Belong Here - Dean Winchester

My Masterlist

Enemies to lovers undertones, hurt/comfort, angst 

Word Count: 2.7k Warnings: Injury, descriptive injure, blood, canon violence. Not proofread.

Prompted by: “Let’s just say that if I saw you bleeding out on my kitchen floor, I’d act like I hadn’t seen you.” #31 on this amazing list. When I say this prompt took on a life of it’s own I am telling you WHAT 

"Would you two calm down?" Sam sighed in irritation, walking into the kitchen. Dean and I were at each other's throats again-for the second time that day-over a hunt he and Sam had gone on without even telling me. They had then called me up in a panic asking to be picked up. I had panicked too then, because they had told me they would just be at some bar, not going on a werewolf hunt.

"No, we're in this as a team, aren't we? I know you didn't want me to go, but you could have at least told me you were going out on a hunt instead of blatantly lying to me like that!" I argued.

"I didn't want you to go because a third person would just get in the way." Dean hissed.

"Oh, so I'm just the third wheel now?"

"Always have been." Dean was suddenly indifferent now, turning to take a swig of his beer.

"Then who would've saved your ass back there, Winchester?" I narrowed my eyes at him, voice dangerously low.

He shrugged. "I'll admit, it's convenient to have you around."

"And I'm sure you wouldn't go out of your way to help me out, would you?"

"Let's just say that if I saw you bleeding out on my kitchen floor, I'd act like I hadn't seen you." He said indifferently.

"I never really was a part of this stupid team bullshit." I spat, getting to my feet and stalking off. "I should've known that from the start."

Loading my gear up into my car, I slammed the trunk shut with more force than necessary, leaning onto my elbows and heaving a sigh. I ran my hands through my hair. I was trying not to be impulsive about this.

"Fuck it." I muttered. Those two idiots may not have been able to take him, but I knew how they approached things. I'd be more sneaky about it. Plus, they had already injured it, giving me a head start.

I climbed out of my car at the cabin, tucking my silver knife into my boot and patting my hip to make sure my gun with the silver bullet was strapped to my belt. Satisfied, I stalked off into the woods, slinking around the cabin and taking notes of the rooms with lights on. I peered into a window in confusion. There wasn't any movement. Not even the flash or changing colors of a TV screen.

I was only able to gasp in surprise as I was suddenly tackled to the ground. With a grunt, I rolled away from my attacker, scrambling to my feet and yanking the knife out of my boot. My eyes took a moment to focus, but when they did, I could make out the heaving figure of a man in front of me. He wasn't completely shifted, half of his face covered in dense fur, and his arms as well. He narrowed his eyes at me.

"I knew there would be another of you coming." He growled.

"You guessed right, mutt." I spat at him, ducking underneath his sudden swing and sinking the blade of my knife into his arm. He howled in pain as the silver burned into his flesh. It served as a doubled edged sword when he tried to pull it out, as the hilt and handle were crafted with silver, too. Smoke rose from his furry hand as he ripped the knife from his bicep and tossed it into the brush, a low growl emanating from his throat.

I took a step back, expecting him to be writhing in pain by now. I hadn't really dealt with werewolves, and from what the Winchester brothers had told me, he should have been almost incapacitated at my silver blade. No wonder they hadn't been able to take him out. Now that I could take his face in more clearly in the moonlight, I saw several scars, new ones crossing over old ones, and I noticed a blood spot on his tank top that certainly hadn't been there before. I assumed that was where Dean had said he had shot him.

Eyeing his wound, I lunged at him, digging my fingers into it. He made a strangled sound, and in a blur, I managed to pin him to the ground. I fumbled for my gun, my hands shaking with adrenaline, and in that small window of time, he had flipped me onto my back and, with a sickening crack, landed an inhumanly strong punch to my ribs. I groaned, fighting the urge to scream out. His features shifted wildly before he completely turned. He went absolutely wild, tearing at the tender flesh of my stomach with long, sharp claws, and ripping into my bicep and shoulder with his teeth. My hands scrambled for my gun and continued to fumble with it through the reddish haze of my vision, before I finally managed to off the safety with a click, and shoot him in the heart.

I rolled his body off of mine with a whimper, struggling onto all fours. I could feel my blood pouring out of the wounds I had sustained, and it was already weakening me substantially. I staggered to my feet, clutching onto a tree for support. I stumbled to my car which, although wasn't far, felt like miles in my current state. By the time I had slumped into the seat, I was struggling to stay conscious. The blood loss was getting to me. Quick.

My drive back to the bunker was a blur, and I fumbled with the keys multiple times before I found the right one. I didn't even consider knocking; I already knew I wasn't welcome anymore. I never really had been.I would bandage myself up and be gone by morning.

They were always a sibling team, and there was never any room for another person. Although, at one point, I had liked Dean, and I almost thought he returned it. But it was obvious enough to me now that he didn't-and probably never had-felt that way about me. Sam was like a brother to me, but I'm sure he was only tolerating me too; he was probably just too nice to say anything about it.

As soon as I made it in, I immediately made for the kitchen. I thrusted my forearms under the cool water of the sink, letting out a sound something halfway between a sigh and a whimper as the crimson water ran down the drain. My exposed flesh stung horribly. A dripping trail of blood had followed me across the floor, and was now beginning to pool around my feet. I slumped tiredly over the counter, before turning and sliding down the cabinets, weakly holding my shredded arm to my chest. I knew I was bleeding out fast, but I didn't have it in me to care.

I told myself I was just regaining my balance, I'd get up as soon as the room stopped spinning so dizzyingly. I made a pathetic effort to put pressure on my stomach wounds, my hands shaking. Voices followed by the slamming of a door and rapid, urgent footsteps made me snap my head up, which had fallen forward in exhaustion. I tried to make myself smaller, curling into the cabinet that I was leaning against and shaking. My heart pounded in my ears.

I startled back into consciousness as a hand came into contact with my shoulder, shaking me awake. I scrambled to get away from them, panicking when my back hit a wall. My eyes darted around wildly before they were met with frightened green ones.

"Dean?" I coughed, blood bubbling up in my throat.

"It's me, sweetheart. Stay with me." His hand briefly cupped the side of my face, before he hastily turned to grab something, muttering a curse under his breath. He wadded up a dish towel before pressing it to my stomach. I cried out, struggling against him as he carefully laid me on the floor. I kicked my legs helplessly, gripping onto his hands with a petrified look in my eyes. In my confused state, I genuinely thought he was trying to kill me.

"Sam!" He called out over his shoulder. Rapid footsteps came down the hall, and I heard Sam's voice before he came into view.

"What the fuck happened??" He asked, immediately turning on his heel and leaving the room.

"Sam," I mumbled, thinking he was leaving me. "No."

"Don't worry, he's just going to get some things to stitch you up. Don't do that." He added as I struggled onto my elbows. His hand pressed against my chest, forcing my back down to the floor. "God, you're fucking freezing." He added.

"She's cold." I heard Dean tell Sam when he came back into the room. I cracked my eyes back open, fingers feeling for my pulse. I groaned in protest.

"Shit, you're right. Okay." I heard things rustling. The pressure on my stomach lessened and I visibly relaxed in relief. It didn't last long though, before a burning sensation spread through my flesh. I squirmed in discomfort at first, until it became even worse, and I let out a low moan of pain.

"Shh, it's okay. I'm sorry." Dean's voice was uncharacteristically soft. Caring, even.

"I killed it." I mumbled, forcing my tired eyes open. His eyes were glossy as if he was crying, but he had a sort of breathless smile on his face. The burning subsided, and gauze took its place.

"Good. Good job, I'm proud of you." He praised me, holding my face in his hands. I sighed, unintentionally leaning into the warmth and comfort of his palms. I'd enjoy it while I could, either before I left, or for however long until I inevitably lost my hold on consciousness and slipped into the hands of death.

"You've never said that to me before." I sighed.

"I know, I should have. You're an amazing hunter." Finished, Sam got to his feet with a nod to Dean, leaving the room. I raised my head weakly to follow him, before giving up and returning my attention to the older Winchester.

"'m not." I argued, my words slurring. "'m going to die from a fucking werewolf."

"You're not going to die." He said sternly.

"What happened to letting me bleed out on the kitchen floor?" I asked him, changing the subject and struggling to keep my eyes open.

"I changed my mind." I felt him slide his arms underneath me. My eyes fluttered shut, a feeling of safety washing over me. I relaxed against him, ignoring his orders to stay awake.

I woke up from a fevered, restless sleep, rolling onto my side with a moan and beginning to shiver violently. Despite the fact I was sweating profusely, my senses told me otherwise, and I curled into the warmth at my back with another shudder, squeezing my eyes shut and wrapping my arms around myself. The dim light of the room was familiar and easy on my pulsating headache. I laid there, beginning to fall asleep again, as memories of the event returned to me. Movement at my back made me freeze in realization. I turned my head slowly, praying I was wrong.

Dean's face was inches from mine, and he shuffled in his sleep, frowning. He slung an arm over my waist. I began to struggle onto my elbows, trying to put some distance between us. This was too much.

His green eyes opened in alarm as I wiggled out of his grip.

"Sorry. I'm sorry." I mumbled out an apology as I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, resting my elbows on my knees and pushing back a wave of dizziness with a groan. I felt the mattress shift, and he was beside me with his arm around my shoulders. I unconsciously leaned into him.

"For what? Sweetheart, you have nothing to be sorry about." He gently rubbed my uninjured arm.

"No, I've always just been the third wheel between you and Sam. I just keep getting in the way and fucking things up."

"You're no-" He began.

"You've said it yourself, over and over again. I get it. You don't have to lie to me just because I almost got myself killed." I muttered out the last part, pulling away from him.

He leaned forward on his knees, head in his hands. "You don't actually- God, I really fucked up." He mumbled under his breath before turning his gaze back to me. "Look, I didn't mean it. I never did." He explained. "I'm so sorry." He apologized softly. Any and all trace of cockiness or sarcasm was gone. He was genuine.

"It's a little late for that, Winchester. I'm leaving. I already planned on it."

"You can't just make decisions like that on a whim-" He protested.

"I'm not. I've been thinking this over for a while now. For months. It's for the best. No hard feelings." I reassured him. There were definitely hard feelings-ones that were incredibly hard to face.

"I love you." He admitted suddenly. "I care about you. That's why I don't want you to hunt with us."

"You can't say shit like that on a whim just to get me to stay." I retorted harshly, ignoring the fluttering in my gut at his confession.

"I'm not. I- I don't want you to get hurt. What we do is dangerous, I'm sure you know that. I don't want you to get caught up in all of this, I'd rather push you away than- than lose you." He choked out the last part, meeting my gaze intently.

"I call bullshit. You know I'd still hunt whether I was with you guys or not." I said as flatly as I could.

"Exactly." His eyes were pleading. He was slowly chipping away at my armor.

"You just want me here to bail you out when you need it." I argued.

"I want you here for so many more reasons than that."

"You're a liar, Winchester."

Our faces had been inches apart, and he suddenly closed the distance, his lips meeting mine. I sighed, reveling in the feeling for a heartbeat before I pushed him away, wincing.

"Is that proof enough for you that I'm not lying?" He asked breathlessly. I longed to close the gap between us once again.

"Stop." My voice cracked. "You're making this harder than it needs to be."

"Then don't go." He pulled me into a hug against his chest. I didn't fight him, I only leaned into him and gripped onto his shirt with a silent sob, ignoring the faint protests of my injuries. I must have been on painkillers, or I knew I would be in much more pain. His hands found the small of my back, and he tenderly rubbed them up and down that vulnerable spot.

"I can't stay." I choked out into his shirt.

"Why not?"

"I love you. I love you so much it fucking hurts." I admitted. "And when you started being an asshole to me, it hurt even more."

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry sweetheart." He mumbled into my hair.

"I've never belonged anywhere, and I thought I had finally found somewhere I did and then I don't- I can't-" I continued to drunkenly confess.

"Shh, calm down." He soothed me as I drew in a shaky breath, struggling to hold back my tears. "This is exactly where you belong, for as long as you want it."

"Promise?" I mumbled absurdly.

I felt his lips in my hair quirk upwards into a smile. "Promise."

#supernatural #supernatural fic #spn #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean wincester angst #supernatural angst #supernatural x reader #hurt/comfort #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfic #dean winchester oneshot

[tsunderedoctor]

My question

I saw your WIP list, the "Katakuri's S/O seeing his violence side" one. May I request Zoro, Law, and Katakuri seeing their S/O's violence side? The mirror version from your WIP list if you don't mind. Thank you and don't forget to take care of yourself!

Thank you, love!! I will do my very best on these!!

He’s quite excited to see your more violent side! He considers you an equal and wants to see what you are capable of! Definitely wants to spar with you sometime too!! 

He doesn’t get scared easily and seeing your fiercer side doesn’t scare him. He actually finds a relief to know you can take care of yourself! He doesn’t need another person getting hurt or dying, he wants you to be safe and it reassures him you know how.

However, this comes as a double-edged sword. You know how to take care of yourself, but you’re also now a threat to his enemies and your own. This means you’re a bigger target and more worry for him.

Will go all out when he spars with you, he knows you can handle his demon nature and wants to see what makes you tick and where your limit is. 

Hopes the idiot cook pisses you off and you teach him a new one, he thinks it’s hilarious and kind of hot seeing his S/O kick his rival’s ass.

Similar to Zoro, he feels reassured you can handle yourself, just don’t be the type to jump into battle without making a plan, then you will be stressing the man more than helping him.

He probably won’t fight you, even though he knows you could handle him, he still gets worried about hurting you or doing something that could cause your unexpected death. Just because you’re strong and violent, doesn’t mean you’re immortal. 

Smirks with pride when you beat an enemy on your own (but deep down he was screaming in his head the whole time about you getting hurt-). 

Penguin and Shachi totally don’t fangirl over you and ask for you to teach them cool tricks and love when you ask them for any self defense moves too! 

As happy as he is that you can defend yourself, he does worry the World Government and Marines will find you as a threat, so he always cringes when he sees your bounty going up. Just let this poor man rest.

The most shocked out of the three. You are his innocent darling angel, you shouldn’t know how to fight, let alone kick someone’s ass!! This is totally a joke!

Just stares at you in total shock. You could be the most muscular person in the world, more than him, and he will still be convinced you are this pacifist angel who wouldn’t hurt a fly.

If you have a bounty on your head, he starts to understand why. In the meantime he keeps you far away from his mother, he doesn’t want her to get any ideas of controlling you and forcing you to work for her and her crew. Again, you are this baby bird and he is a big bad falcon, must protect! 

Please pick this man up bridal style if you can, make him an embarrassed mess!! even if you aren’t the same height as him, just give it a try! He will cover his grumpy face with his scarf and refuse to talk!

Loves when you teach his younger siblings how to defend themselves! He tries to do the same, but his scary demeanor sometimes makes it difficult, but seeing your angelic face with his siblings leaves a small smile on his face!

#tsunderedoctor #ask #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa #zoro one piece #zoro x reader #trafalgar d. water law #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar d law #trafalgar law #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #charlotte katakuri #katakuri #katakuri x reader #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece headcanons #one piece comfort

[hotcheetohatredwastaken]

BDOR 16 and 17 for the game.

First off, how dare you ask either of these TuT I have been writing BDOR for 4 going on 5 years now, I don't really rememberrrrrrrrrr

16. What was the easiest scene to write?

Of the ones published (not including Prologues), Broken/Little White Lies was the easiest, specifically the “I haven’t been entirely honest with you” scene from Twilight flew out of me pretty quick.

Okay, so now I ignored the question asking for one scene to give multiple because this question got me thinking for some reason. I’ve experienced like, an interesting trend with this. I have noticed few (unpublished) scenes that have been easier for me to write have been The Exchange (arc 1), Waking up/Illusions (arc 2), Dream (arc 2), A Hero’s Sacrifice (arc 2). All of these chapters include horrible character deaths, just the worst things happening to poor Wild and the other boys—and they were so easy to write XD. I am forced to wonder if that’s because they’re the culmination of a lot of other scenes, and thus they’d they’re easy to write, or if I just find it easy to torture the poor boys.

17. What was the hardest scene to write?

So uh, An Oddity/Negotiations (the fight scene between all the Links sans Twi, who is at that point blissfully ignorant) have been through double digit drafts over the years. They were some of the first scenes I wrote (I was freshly out of middle school then lmao), they were some of the worst scenes I wrote, and their form has changed tremendously. In like the first draft, Sky tried to grab Wild’s sword with his whip and snapped Wild in the face, and Wild went all “WHEN WILL YOU LEARN? WHEN WILL YOU LEARN? THAT YOUR ACTIONS HAVE CONSEQUENCES???” on their asses with Urbosa’s fury lmao. He was sooo much of an edge lord in those earlier drafts. Noble’s Warning (unpublished) has also been terrible for me, just for getting across information that needs to be gotten across to the reader in order to set up overarching plot + arc 2 stuff. Once I get BDOR out in its entirety, that’s a section I’m sure I’ll be retconning.

Thanks for asking! This ask made my night XD

#cheetotalks #cheetoanswers #linked universe #lu #linkeduniverse #bdor #is this okay to put in the main tags? #it is linked universe related #ask game #XD #fantastic not-freyja #cheetowrites

[jon-snows-man-bun]

By Turns

Chapter Four

Summary

Masterlist

Find this fic on AO3

A/N: this chapter beat my ass

The meeting with Eris had gone about like Azriel expected. Eris had played them like idiots, which seemed to be his speciality.

Eris came to the meeting claiming he had no idea why they wanted to meet, forcing Rhysand to ask about the trade deal. Rhys had tried to play coy, not giving away what they knew of it, but Eris had countered by asking why the High Lord of Night was asking about his own court’s business. Rhys could have confessed the truth - the Hewn City more or less moved independently - or claim that he already knew the specifics of the agreement and was questioning Eris to be sure of his motives, but questioning the motives of someone who was meant to be your ally was hardly the face of the all-powerful High Lord that Rhys wanted to put on.

“I know you don’t know this, Rhysand, but most courts actually want to increase trade rather than isolate themselves economically and politically,” Eris had informed them facetiously. He set Azriel’s teeth on edge, he was so glib and disrespectful; a court-trained bastard prince if there ever was one. “Why do you not, I wonder?”

A muscle in Rhysand’s jaw feathered involuntarily, his only tell. “Just making sure our priorities are aligned, along with Keir,” he said smoothly.

“I wasn’t aware Keir was ever out of alignment,” Eris replied easily, eyebrows raising as if in surprise. Azriel wanted to strangle him. “Now, if all you wanted was to have a quaint little catch-up…”

“Always a pleasure, never a chore, Eris,” Rhysand crooned, fist hitting the table lightly once the Autumn heir was gone.

“I don’t think he’s involved in whatever Keir is plotting,” Azriel said. His shadows hadn’t told him of any agitation, any signs of lying or discomfort from the male; he had merely settled back in his chair like a spoiled princeling.

“I don’t think he’d risk our alliance by throwing in with Keir if Keir is plotting a move against us,” Rhysand mused. “He stands too much to gain from us and too little to gain from Keir, barring this agreement.”

“My contact here hasn’t mentioned Eris,” Azriel said. Oisin had only told him of conflict between the Darkbringer captains, and how he suspected there was conflict between Keir and Thanatos. As much as it chafed him to admit it, all signs pointed to that Eris wasn’t involved.

Azriel would have dearly loved for Eris to be involved, just for an excuse to drag him into the dungeons and finally claim justice for Mor all those years ago. He loathed the Vanserras. Slick, manipulative bastards in every sense; Eris didn’t deserve the mantle of High Lord and Azriel didn’t believe a word of him professing to be better than Beron. He’d seen this song and dance before, and had ripped out violent men root and stem from across Prythian who always claimed to be better and more idealistic than their forebears. They never were, and were always ignorant to the damage the wreaked.

Lucien didn’t deserve Elain either. He hadn’t touched that thought in half a year at least, but it came to him now the longer he stewed over Eris.

Rhys steepled his fingers together, mouth firm as he mused. It had just been him and Azriel in the meeting today, trying to give the impression that he considered it casual. The Hewn City was often a double-edged sword for Rhys, by turns useful, by turns a nightmare.

“I’ll follow him,” Azriel volunteered. “Just to make sure.” At Rhys’ nod, Azriel left him to his politics and stepped from small meeting chamber and into the echoing shadowed hall.

Azriel became part of the shadows, stepping into them like a pair of favoured boots. Unseen in this way, he moved after Eris. After all these centuries spying like this it was almost child’s play. He would have stopped to consider why he was bothering to spy on their allies - even tenuous ones - at all, but his shadows whispered to him that Eris hadn’t winnowed away, rather walked off through the City instead. He followed where they beckoned down a residential street. His scent was easy to pick out here; he was so easily identified as an outsider, down to the scent of fresh air that followed him.

The street he went down was more airy than the poorer streets, putting it at a premium among the limited real estate. The carved ceiling was higher here, washing all the elaborate tiled roofs in the weak grey light beyond their high stone walls. Servants bustled by him, unaware he was nestled in the darkness and trailing Eris like one of his hounds.

Azriel had stopped following Eris when he arrived at a manse with sigil of a crescent moon and eye on the gate. He didn’t recognise it which meant no one of importance lived there - he had shredded through most of the major family lines here whenever the opportunity presented itself. He made note of the sigil for Rhysand, then let the shadows swallow him entirely to take him back to Velaris.

———————

Eris thumbed through the book Aisling had given him idly. The deal was advantageous to Autumn: a fixed volume of stones allowed the price to fluctuate naturally while maintaining small enough supply that the cost wouldn’t freefall. Night had enough gems, he supposed; he hadn’t forgotten Feyre’s gauche cuffs of solid diamond. It was unfortunate that she and Rhysand couldn’t use their large fortunes to also purchase good taste alongside Feyre’s wardrobe of sheer ribbons.

Beron had been pleased, especially with the diamond-hilted dagger Keir had sent as a token of his regard. His father had enough treasure but was always pleased by obsequious shows of respect and deference. Reassured that Eris was well in hand doing his bidding, Beron had resumed focusing on Damian whom he was convinced had fathered a bastard. Eris was certain he hadn’t, but the more distracted the High Lord was, the better; woe to Damian for catching his attention.

Eris had gotten a pair of diamond earrings for his mother, a token for her from his travels and politicking. She had plenty but he couldn’t give her what they both truly wanted; he gave her meaningless baubles in apology. One day, he mused. Soon. Hopefully. In truth, he feared what would happen to her if he failed, and his brothers behind him.

He couldn’t fail. It was that simple.

He turned back to the book. Most of the it was dry, records of taxation law and methods of collection, accounts of stewards and masters of coin, that sort of thing. The chapter she had indicated dealt with a legislation change some four thousand years ago. The Hewn City - already locked underground - had rebelled, killing one of the High Lord of Night’s three sons; as blood payment, he took one third of their wealth and all incomes. The book did not indicate it had ever been lifted.

Greedy Rhysand, Eris mused. That must chafe. Lucien had told him that Rhysand and Feyre had recently built their fifth house, now their main residence. Did the occupants of the Hewn City know that? Did Keir? Rhysand had been dancing around something in their meeting, had mentioned being in alignment with Keir. Keir had wanted to be freed from the Court of Nightmares, allowed into the world; Rhysand was so reluctant to give him any ounce of freedom. Eris could guess what he feared would happen, what he feared may already be happening. Taxed heavily, trapped, and disrespected…. and he had asked for Aisling’s opinion. He held it, there in his hands, putting the pieces together.

He remembered what being locked underground had been like under Amarantha, Under the Mountain. He thought those days would never end and he would surely die there, but still, all he did was drink, fuck, and fume. Walking into Autumn after that cunt’s death had felt like being born again.

He thought again of Aisling, trapped in the dark, smiling and biting her tongue. He doubted she was allowed to drink or fuck - vices were a luxury only for males in the Hewn City - but even the powerless could stoke the fires of their anger in secret. He knew that well enough.

Eris found her unreasonably interesting. It was more than her lovely looks or the slim waist that would fit so nicely in his hands, more than that enticing scent of rose and mist, moss and stone. More, even, than her apparent wealth. It was the little glimpses of wit and intelligence, the hints that there was something hiding in the dark within her. The little bit he got made him want to delve in and find out everything about her, every mystery she held. He bet she was vicious, under that alabaster surface. Angry and fierce. Her little snipped comments were evidence enough of that.

Eris knew she was nervous of him. She did a good job not showing it, but he had spent his life watching his mother’s tells around Beron; he could see her twisting her rings, the tension in her eyes. Eris didn’t care that he frightened her, bastard that he was, and he couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty about not caring. He wasn’t a good male, but he had accepted this long ago.

It was with this knowledge in mind that Eris bought a gift for Aisling, something to thank her for her book. It was clever, to give him that; information without betraying her Court. And if she was brought to task over it, he bet she’d swear crossways that she could barely even read and had no idea what was in it, what conclusions Eris may have drawn. And those fools in Night would only see her lovely face and believe her.

———————

Eris had sent her a gift.

The box had been set on the table before her by Maeve, but Aisling opted to open it in private. The gift was a pheasant feather, held in a silver comb for her hair.

Aisling smiled as she stroked one finger down the velvet of the striped plumage. He had noticed the ladies’ hairstyles, the penchant for raven and dove feathers to show loyalty to the Court; the way she had styled her own. He had been impeccably dressed, but to have noticed the fashions and bijouterie of females was an attention to detail she wasn’t expecting.

God knows most males didn’t, beyond if they could see the line of a female’s body and if all bruises were suitably hidden.

Without thinking, she gently trailed the tip of the feather over her cheek, her lip; the scent floated to her immediately. A cold sun, woodsmoke, the smell of the sky and the field. Something underneath that, something raw and wild that made her close her eyes and breathe it in again and again.

Aisling tried it on, twisting her head in the mirror to see the tawny browns and greens nestled against her black hair. That scent wrapped around her like a sigh and whispered to her of crisp Autumn air.

Aisling wasn’t stupid. This was verging dangerously into courting - ostensibly Eris had been thanking her for the book, but sending gifts and making social visits was a planned course of action. Even if he wasn’t courting her, he was making it look as if he was to anyone watching. She could have done without the attention from all parties. Being looked at in the City was never a good thing, no matter if Eris was merely putting on a ruse to benefit himself in some way.

The latent heat in his eyes was unmistakeable. With a sigh, loathe to admit to herself that she actually liked it, she ran her fingers across the comb again.

She couldn’t wear it; it would look disloyal to Night. It would raise too many eyebrows. It was rather arrogant of him to give her a gift that would mark her with a symbol of Autumn, she mused, but she still smiled. Thoughtful and manipulative in equal measures, she mused.

Aisling tucked the feather beneath her pillow instead, and dreamt of a tree where frost had turned every leaf into diamonds.

#eris vanserra #by turns #my writing #eris vanserra x oc #eris vanserra fanfic #acotar fanfiction

[firjii]

I feel like fanworks of any medium in any fandom can be an inherently double-edged sword and the reason why, in a way, I'm glad I haven't tried to religiously pursue it.

On the one hand, it's a beautiful example of dedication, creativity, and often otherwise undiscovered/overlooked talent. It can also be a legitimate stepping stone to bigger things or, in a few lucky cases, the start of a career that utilizes those same interests or talents.

On the other hand, much of the audience has extremely specific desires and is commonly in flux in ways that some other areas of life and society don't have an exact equivalent for. To be blunt, they're really damn fickle sometimes.

You can be dazzlingly, brilliantly skilled at your craft and have good relations with your admirers/followers/clients, but if something else captures their attention for a sustained amount of time, you either have to adapt to what they want or accept that you might've lost that connection with that particular person or persons.

Some people adapt to other fandoms just fine and continue to enjoy that dynamic. Some even ride a "wave" effect (i.e. their own personal interests coincide with fans') as a new fandom crops up or an old one surges in popularity again. I wish those people all the best because that, too, is beautiful to see.

But for lack of a better word, it's problematic for some creatives. Y'all like to say "death to capitalism," but artists (*general term meaning any people who make stuff in any medium) doing things for money are, in fact, technically participating in capitalism in some shape or form. That's just how it is.

And that's OK. It's OK to try to make a living from things you like for the simple purpose of paying bills and eating 3 times a day and not needing to sleep in an alley. That's not a vice and it sure as hell isn't grounds for canceling.

I've seen so many shitty takes on this about how fans are entitled to fully rendered OC portraits or an entire 50k novel or a whole-ass crocheted blanket or an album-length music project for free because "*nonchalant shrug* I simply don't believe in The System(TM)," with no regard for the logistics involved and no understanding that the time it takes to make stuff is time that can't be used on other things (whether that means employment, sleep, eating, or basic mental health self-care).

There are people online - and especially here - who scrape by at a subsistence level by making art/crafts or writing fics or coding IFs or writing music. Some artists (*general term meaning any people who make stuff in any medium) do it specifically because they have a disability or health problem that precludes them from other options. Some are autistic or are dealing with other things that fundamentally impact how they function as a human in the world.

Translation: some people literally can't just yo-yo into a new subject at the whim of fandom trends. It literally doesn't compute for everyone. They're faced with the choice to force themselves into other subjects just to maintain connections/a little money or to become legitimately interested in said thing "too late" when the height of fandom enthusiasm has long since peaked.

I used to think that people just meant politics or cancel culture when they said "fandom is kind of like high school," but now I get it: there's a distinct popularity contest element to it - or there easily can be one - not necessarily about the quality of the creatives' finished expressions or even fans' personal tastes of those expressions, but the level of fandom involvement and population size itself.

It's no one's fault that it happens and it's usually totally innocent and incidental. It's also not necessarily a bad thing - far be it for me to discourage people from moving on to things that are better for their mental health or move away from things that were bad for it. But it's inevitable that some are left behind in the dust from time to time, even if the other/new fandoms make every effort to be welcoming.

The basest advice you often get is "go with the flow," but some people simply can't do that. They pour their hearts into a particular medium or niche topic or inspiration source because that particular Thing(TM) clicks for them in ways that other stuff doesn't. It's not as simple as "yeah sure w/e I'll draw the little space man today instead of a salmon."

So idk I would just suggest that, as one example, when y'all want to get an OC portrait and the artist you want to make it explicitly states which fandoms they can do and yours isn't on their list, at least ask NICELY if they'd be comfortable trying something new. Don't barge in and pressure them, because we tend to already pressure ourselves more than our due.

You'd be amazed how many people don't grasp this.

[silverdragon-imagines-blog]

Wardrobe Malfunction - (2/?)

More of this thing! This time it’s poor Sky’s turn ^u^

Warning(s): crude jokes made by Wind at Sky’s expense

Oh how Sky loathed running. He cursed his low stamina and inability to get enough air in his lungs as he chased after the rest of his group, who were following a herd of stolen horses that monsters were riding on. He was almost certain that by the time he caught up, they would’ve been taken care of anyway. But he still ran, just in case.

It was as he followed Wind and Hyrule around a sharp turn through some bushes that he had the thought that something was going to go wrong. And of course he was right. He was abruptly forced to a stop as his belt and shirt snagged on a particularly sharp branch, dragging him back into the bush it came from. The end of it just happened to be long and strong enough to stab through the worn belt and travel up to just below his shoulder blades, having a very strong grip on him. He huffed, seeing Wind and Hyrule start to get further away, so he made the executive decision to try and run after them. 

Of course, it’s never that easy. He felt something give way, and he lurched forward, his hands and arms getting forced backward and trapped in his sleeves as he stumbled and a very loud tearing noise caused him to freeze. He looked down to see his his belt and wrap on the ground at his feet and all of his normal layers ripped straight down the middle, putting his chest on full display. He felt his face heating up, even moreso when he realized that he wouldn’t be getting out of this mess without help. 

“Uh, Wind! Roolie! I need some help back here!” he yelled as loud as he could while he still struggled to breathe. 

The two heroes were thankfully not quite out of earshot yet, so they turned around and headed back toward him, first with confusion and then with wide grins and loud laughter.

“Holy shit, Sky?! How did you manage to do that?!” Wind cackled, hands resting on his knees as he looked Sky up and down.

Hyrule was trying to at least cover up the fact that he was laughing, a fact that Sky appreciated. 

“I was trying to catch up to you guys and got stuck! Stop leaving me behind!”

This only caused Wind and Hyrule to laugh more, the Sailor winding up on his ass from the force of his laughter. Sky shook his head, rolling his eyes for good measure. He attempted a step forward to free himself, only to further tear his shirt, the top of his stomach coming into view. He sighed heavily.

“Alright, you’ve had your fun, can you help me out here? Please?”

Wind nodded, smiling in amusement as he walked around to Sky’s back and started poking around at Sky’s hands.

“I’ve got ya, Sky,” he replied, messing around with the branches that had ensnared him, “Nice tits by the way.”

Sky whipped around as best as he could, scandalized as his face gradually grew red upon seeing Wind laughing once again. He could barely hear Hyrule wheezing over the feeling of his ears burning.

“Wind, what the hell?!”

They only laughed harder at his shrieked exclamation, Wind abandoning helping Sky to double over on the ground. Hyrule was no help either, staggering to lean against the nearest tree to stay standing. 

“Please for the love of Hylia, get me out of here!”

Hyrule contained his giggling just enough to draw his sword and chop at the branches that held Sky in place. Finally freed, he grabbed the edges of the tear and held them together with a hand, covering his chest as well as he could. He glared at both heroes, though they didn’t seem to care much at all by that fact. 

“When we get to camp,” Sky spoke calmly, immediately shutting up the two heroes, “You would be wise to watch yourself. You never know what sort of bad luck you will end up having.”

Sky made sure to punctuate his statement with a too sweet smile and closed eyes, causing the two to audibly gulp. Satisfied that his threat was acknowledged, he led the way toward where the group had been heading, figuring that the monsters had most likely been dealt with by now. He’d see if he could bribe Legend or Warriors to fix his clothes later.

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #linked universe drabble #linkeduniverse drabble #lu sky #lu hyrule #lu wind #silver writes #crude humor #sky's bare chest #skiddies

[celestiall0tus]

May I ask, why are you using the Western four elements system for the dragon which is based on Eastern dragons?

On a similar tangent, I just read your Miraculous AU as published on Wattpad, and I was thinking: the flowers subconsciously created by Kagami's feelings are based on Japanese or Western flower symbolism? Just to be sure, because it felt Western to me for some reason, but I'm maybe wrong.

So, I'm going to tackle the flower thing before I go on my own tangent about the dragon. The flowers are quite simply a literary device for a primarily western audience. They form as a shorthand for how Kagami feels about people with easy enough symbolism that can easily be looked up by the curious few. The one that is a wrench is rhododendron as in this context it pulls from the Victorian meaning of danger. Would it make more sense to use Japanese meanings of these flower? Yes, however I did this as a literary device directed towards a western audience.

Now the dragon. I'm prefacing this entire tangent on the dragon in my works is NOT based on solely eastern inspirations. Let's begin then.

The dragon of perfection has changed drastically within my works. No longer is it more based on eastern inspirations, but as the dragon of nature, it pulls from all dragons and ideas. This includes my own ideologies.

Starting with the system. I use the western four elements system because I am western, but also because of what the dragon is now. The dragon isn't perfection, but nature, Mother Earth. And going along with my ideologies, I see the four primary elements of fire, water, nature/earth, and wind as sort of pillars of life. There is earth which is the base being food, nourishment, and overall sustainability. Water is sustainability, but also our bodies given how majority of our inner workings are liquid and water itself. Wind is literally breath. Fire is a double-edged sword. It is warmth and light, but also destruction. As such, the dragon is this. The pillars of life, a master of the world, of life., and a foundation in Paradise.

Longg here is also changed. Her nature is literally nature and will shift on a dime. She is benevolent and malevolent at the same time. A reflection on dragons as a whole. Eastern dragons being more a force of nature and typically benevolent. Western dragons are a huge ass range that can be anything based on the story, but usually are used as antagonists and forces of evil.

Now, the designs are based on whatever the holder is

Kagami is the only one so far to have the Eastern motif.

That brings me to Mylene and Rose. Mylene for Salvation and Rose in Separate Worlds. These two designs pull more from Western motifs.

There are also the random request designs that also use the Western motif.

So, this dragon in my AUs are based on dragon inspirations as a whole, a mix of my witchy ideologies, with the designs puling from a mix of both inspirations.

#ask #L0tus answers #dragon miraculous

[jessiebanethedragon]

White Sands Warm the Cold Sea (pt 22)

Summary: the reader, betrothed to a disgusting Coruscanti Lord flees her home world and lands herself in a plethora of trouble, a ship of clones, and one pirate captain whose cold exterior needs much more than the tropical seaside sun.

Chapter one

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Warnings: Swearing, takes place in time periods where women have dowery's and suchlike. The readers' dad and betrothed are asses. there will be kissing in some chapters. oh and ANGST sorry

Chapter Twenty-two: The Prayer

You’re thrown to Harrik like a bag of potatoes, as if at the moment you are nothing but an inconvenience. His arm latches around your neck, putting steady pressure where you struggle. You claw at his arm but he’s wrapped in fine cloth and it feels impenetrable. 

They’re going to do it, you can see Nython getting closer to the block. They are going to kill him. 

You cannot help but cry. 

From above you, a man screams as he is kicked off of the watchtower to the house. And with a calculated step on his foot, Harrik cringes backwards, making both of you lose your balance. 

You can’t help the smile that forms when Echo salutes you with two fingers from above. Nython turns towards you craning his neck up. 

It gives you plenty of time to drive Hunter's dagger into Harrik’s thigh. 

Clone force 99 works simultaneously after that. Echo’s brief distraction allows for Tech to gain the upper hand while his guards backs are turned. And for the men surrounding Wrecker and Crosshair, Tech’s double pistols break clean through two sets of shackles, and even though they are unarmed, the odds quickly turn in their favor. 

“Rifle!” Crosshair shouts to his brother, who reaches behind his shoulders to grasp and throw Crosshair his prized possession. For while Wrecker aids Tech on the ground, Crosshair takes stance to back up Echo on the ramparts 

Volim Nython quickly abandons the captive Sergeant in favor of recapturing you. 

Looking back at Harrik you’ve got no choice but to reach for the knife in his leg and pull it out. He exclaims in pain and clamps down on the wound to keep himself from bleeding out. 

“Was he worth it?” Nython asks approaching you, completely unconcerned by the scared look in your eyes and the shaking dagger in your hands. “The rest of them could have lived.” 

“Stay away from me.” You tell him, watching him draw his sword. You cannot fight against that, not with your measly dagger. 

“I do not wish to harm you.” he promises edging closer. 

“I don’t believe you.” You tell him. Stepping backwards in favor of putting as much space between the two of you as possible. And you try to recall everything Echo taught you when shooting a blaster. And you try to remember when you threw a knife at Tech, if there was any hope of hitting him. But then again, you do not need to hit Nython, you just need to get past him. 

The knife flies without a second thought, and he eagerly dodges it, which gives you ample time to sprint past him. 

Not out of the courtyard, not to Tech, Wrecker or Crosshair, not even back into the streets. 

You make a beeline to Hunter. Boots digging into the cobblestone and scraping your knees as you drop to the ground in front of him. 

“Get out of here.” He yells, as you begin to fiddle with the clasp pinning the blocks of wood together around his neck. 

“Not without you!” You exclaim, and you swear you hear him scoff in astonished frustration. When you get the clasp undone you grab Hunter by the shoulders to drag him away from the makeshift guillotine block. Your boots lose grip on the stone, and when you fall you see Volim Nython righting himself. 

A nasty scratch on his shoulder tells you your aim has improved. But his grip on your ankle is bruising as he drags you away from a newly freed Hunter, who, even still bound with his hands behind his back, rushes to your aid. 

While you may not be a practiced fighter, the way you move in time with Hunter suggests that you two have been fighting as partners for some time. Your synchrony marvels that of fencing, every step of yours mirrors his. And at every opportunity Hunter’s bound hands are on your back, or your waist, guiding you as if it was a dance. As if you two have a secret that lets you move in time with one another. It’s almost as if it is fate, pulling puppet strings around the two of you. 

As if there is something bigger than the two of you pulling your movements together. 

It is enough to have Nython staggering backwards, and Harrik trying to limp towards him.  And for a second, the injured Harrik and Nython falter. When you turn to stand up you see why. 

Echo is standing in the archway into the building, clearly he and Crosshair have vacated the Ramparts. Echo walks towards the group whilst righting his blood stained shirt. Crosshair, Tech and Wrecker take up position behind you, and with one fluid movement, Wrecker puts his hands on the chain connecting Hunter’s wrists and yanks them apart. Harrik pales at the display of strength. Now all five of them stand behind you, a very obvious statement. 

If you want her, you go through us. 

In a massive lapse of judgment, Hunter steps forward, locking eyes with the man in question, daring him to move towards you, he turns his gaze to you.

“I missed you.” He says gently wrapping his arm around your waist. Oh so smug in the way your hands immediately wrap around his shoulders to reach up to his hair. 

“Never do that to me again.” You tell him firmly. Watching as he chuckles lightly. 

“I promise.” He says, before leaning down to place a single longing kiss on your lips. A massive ‘fuck you’ to the man across the courtyard. 

“Are we not in the middle of something?” Crosshair seethes. 

“And I don't recall hearing a ‘thank you’ either.” Echo points out. Hunter grunts in recognition, and turns his attention to Volim Nython. 

“We are finished here. Leave us be, and you will not be troubled again.” It is a bargain, one Hunter cannot possibly think the man across the courtyard will take.

“If you think for one moment I will be upstaged by a group of degenerate clones…” Nython can barely spit the words out in anger. 

“We are not asking.” Hunter states. 

“That is my wife. My property, she belongs…” 

“To no one.” You cut in, “I belong to myself, and myself only. I chose to give my heart to those who are worthy. And you, Volim Nython, are not worthy of me.” Your confidence is surprising even to yourself, but Hunter squeezes your hip reassuringly, looking down at you with a love-forsaken smile. You reach up to caress Hunter’s bruised face, “let's get you back to the marauder.” you whisper. The metal of the remainder of the chains is cold against you, but Hunter is warm to the touch, and firm, a familiarity that you are becoming more and more at home with. 

This familiarity leads you away from the courtyard, his nose pressed to your hairline and breathing deeply. 

“This is absurd!” Nython explodes, “you have known her for what, a fortnight? No woman is worth this, what could that wench have possibly done to gain your favors? What witches spell has the scarlet cast upon you? Or are clones so feeble minded any orders given are followed?”

Hunter has every intention of ignoring him. 

“Did you murder your jedi for something as simple as a woman to warm your bed?” 

You feel the air go cold, and Hunter tense up in your grasp. You see the way Crosshair looks down in shame and guilt, and the sadness the wracks wreckers eyes. You see a million memories float across Echo’s mind. 

You feel a million voices call out in terror, and then suddenly silenced. 

But before any of Clone Force 99 can retaliate, they watch something miraculous happen. 

“Coward!” You scream, turning on your heel and stalking back towards Nython and Harrik. Both of them take a small step backwards in shock, a woman who previously never left Coruscant, living a sheltered life, had transformed. You walk towards them covered in dirt, wielding a small bloody knife, and a look in your eyes that is reminiscent of a predator hunting its prey. It is only then that Volim Nython discovers he had made a fatal error in taking you as his wife. 

“You think you have power?” you are seething with rage, “do you think yourself better than us because of a title or a birthright? Do you think you bleed any differently than a clone?” 

“She’s gone mad!” Harrik declares in fear as you come closer and closer. 

“I am going to tell you this once, consider it your final warning.” You gesture to Nython with your blade. “Those men behind me, I would do anything for them, and they would do anything for me. I could snap my fingers and Clone Force 99 would bring me your head on a platter. That is power. You could not pay, threaten or beg anyone to do for you what we have done for each other, and that is where you have failed. I am finished living in fear, now it is your turn.” 

“Start running.” Hunter’s voice reverberates through the courtyard, the Bad Batch at your command behind you. 

The seperatist lord Volim Nython and his men scurry away like rats in a flood. 

Clone Force 99 leisurely returns to their ship, captain and stowaway in tow.

Tags: @the-mandalorian-clone-lover @peacefulwizardfox @rex-meshla @s1st37 @and-claudia @kamino-mermaid @thelambandthewolffe @starwarsmeninhelmets

@bronvin @myeternalsin @sweetsunflowerkisses @loverofclones @beizm @gunsmoke-blu

@logina6 @wondergal2001 @lafy-taffy @lafy-taffy @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s

@starskenobiwan @lordellbell @kaetavlos @violetjedisylveon @​​vergol @Lackofhonor @itsagrimm

#tbb echo #tbb tech #tbb hunter x reader #tbb hunter #tbb sergeant hunter #sergreant hunter x you #sergeant hunter x reader #the bad batch series #sergeant hunter #hunter x reader #hunter clone #hunter x you #tbb wrecker #tbb crosshair #jessiebanethedragon #white sands warm the cold sea

[snaillock]

(Related to what you said in this post)

I AGREE. Honestly, for me personally I don't really know how to write gendered stuff. I can only write gn!reader and that's kinda it besides my occasional fem!lesbian!reader (but that's always for self-indulgent funsies and I feel like even those could be read as gn if it wasn't for the fact that reader is a lesbian)

Of course people are allowed to and should write gendered stuff if that's what they feel comfortable with and enjoy, but the "gn!reader but..." or "reader is fem coded" (and then it's obviously fem!reader) ARE SO....HUH??????????? I see that and think "just say it's fem!reader............" Notice how that doesn't happen with male!reader?🤨 Because fem!reader is the standard in fics.

And don't even get me started on untagged fics where in the middle of it reader is fem out of nowhere. Imo, if there's no reader's gender tagged it should be gn!reader by standard and then not randomly give reader a gender.

Idk if it's weird for me as a fem alligned person to "complain" about this but I don't really feel any connection to my gender and one of my friends is masc so we talk about this sometimes. I have many thoughts on this😔

Anyways. I hope you'll never receive a fem!reader request. May your anons always read your request rules

ONGGG this is why you’re one of my favorite mutuals

i remember when people constantly requested fem reader fics from you and thinking “you are so damn patient. i could never.” i applaud you so much for that cause i would’ve been so angry and probably wouldve done those all those requests as male readers purely out of spite.

well to be honest, spite is the reason why this blog even exists.

idk why but gender neutral writing comes so easily to me. maybe it’s because i jumped around the gender spectrum a bit but i can easily tell what feels feminine and masculine. and even though i used to identify as a woman for many years all while being a fanfic reader, i don’t think i can even attempt fem!reader stuff LMAO.

i don’t even get how so many people screw up gender neutral tagging so much like we need to hold a mandatory seminar for fic writers to teach them what gender neutral actually means. i really wish more people tagged their “gender neutral” fics like, “afab!reader that uses gender neutral pronouns” or anything like that. i just want them to quit saying gn reader when they don’t mean gender neutral overall.

it’s even worse when they add x male reader to the tags so i’m kinda forced to see it anyway. i don’t even do that on my legitimate gn writing. i only put any gender neutral tag that fits; none of that extra “x female reader, x male reader” tagging shit for a little bit more clout because doing that just makes tag filtering a lot more inconvenient for others.

also the untagged fem reader fics made me so distrusting of any untagged fic because i either assume it’s gender neutral and get so invested in the story only to get smacked upside the head with extreme feminine terms and/or pronouns OR i’m always slightly uneasy when i read them because now i expect them to secretly be fem!reader all the time.

being perceived as anything but a man is one of my biggest dysphoria triggers so reading fanfics for comfort is such a double edged sword.

also it’s not weird at all for you to complain about this because honestly the more, the merrier. i need a lot more people talking about this constantly.

i never gotten a fem reader request before, so if i did now then that would be pretty fucking funny. that would mean someone saw my account and essentially thought “you know what this dude’s blog needs? a good ol female reader fic. time to skip reading his rules and go straight into the ask box”

anyways to wrap this long ass rant up, gender neutral should really be the default here. i really don’t see why it’s not.

#★ snail.rambles ★ #★ snail.mail ★ #★ the sillies <3 #so glad i finally have an excuse to make a full post about this #★-mao

[onecantsimply]

I'm back again with two more ideas for the first kai x tomie reader. 1. What happened and reader during the crossed eyes incident and 2. The reader meeting the other identities.

Thank you for the ideas-

Once again, Tomie is a manipulative woman who can regenerate her body completely, even if all that’s left of her is small traces of DNA. (Hairs, skin, or blood.)

She can charm any male regardless of their age, and can drive them to insanity with what she wants.

Now, if she’s split in two, those parts can grow into two bodies with minds of their own.

Manga spoilers

• It’s most likely that Kai was protecting (Y/n) from En, Shin, and Noi.

- While he knows that you can regenerate, he doesn’t like seeing anyone hurt you if it isn’t him.

- If Shin or En sees you somehow and gets that feeling, Kai knows it can’t be erased. He knows that they won’t have your image erased from their mind. And all he can feel from that is utter jealousy and slight anxiety.

- Jealousy because he knows he wants you for himself. And anxiety, because he knows what En is capable of. While En isn’t too much of an obstacle to overcome, he is still difficult in his own way.

- But, with En passing out from using too much of his Magic, you might have ended up getting crushed under debris.

- And with Kai, we all know how Curse ends up kicking his ass.

- Though, thanks to your regeneration, and somehow not being turned into a mushroom yet, you manage to escape. Just barely escaping getting crushed again. Whether it be by mushrooms, or debris.

• Meeting Kaiman is literally being disgusted with the guy while he’s confused, and is always around you.

- You slightly hate how he just gulps down the gyoza with one sitting.

- You’re most definitely familiar with how Kaiman fights, but you brush off the thought of him being Kai because of how weak he is.

- Still, with Kaiman’s hatred towards Sorcerers, you still have some small doubts in place.

- What he feels with you, is familiarity, a slight genuine crush, the forced emotion, and a good amount of overprotectiveness.

- The Hole’s a dangerous place, you know?

- Kaiman can leave you with Nikaido and all because you two are girls… but he just can’t leave you alone.

• Meeting Aikawa is literally meeting a puffed up cat who is always tense or scared around you.

- He knows who you fucking are. He’s connected to Kai.

- However, even if it’s a one sided mirror, (how Kai can see Aikawa’s memories, but he can’t see Kai’s.) he knows who you are.

- He knows that Kai knows who you are, and he’s slightly terrified of you.

- The fact that you have a mysterious ability to pull men towards you, and the fact that Kai himself— a literal being of malice in the Hole, has caught feelings for you, Aikawa can feel nothing but the forced emotions and dread.

- Aikawa is slightly confused on how Kai hasn’t made a move yet. But the thought of him doing something makes Aikawa anxious. He knows that he’s in some type of double edged sword. With either you or Kai waiting on each end.

- In the end, it ends with Aikawa becoming obsessed with you. Just like other men you would encounter.

#dorohedoro x reader #dorohedoro #Kai Dorohedoro #Dorohedoro Aikawa #dorohedoro kaiman

[kevinsreviewcatalogue]

Review: John Wick: Chapter 4 (2023)

John Wick: Chapter 4 (2023)

Rated R for pervasive strong violence and some language

<Originally posted at https://kevinsreviewcatalogue.blogspot.com/2023/03/review-john-wick-chapter-4-2023.html>

Score: 4 out of 5

John Wick: Chapter 4 is absolute, balls-to-the-wall action movie excess. It feels like a film where everybody involved, given a $100 million budget and carte blanche to make the ultimate action movie as they defined it, decided to throw in everything they could without concern for pacing, just a pure spectacle running close to three hours that is designed to wallop your senses with some of the most awe-inspiring action scenes you've ever witnessed. You've got shootouts. You've got a horse chase in the Moroccan desert that opens the film. You've got hand-to-hand fighting with everything from nunchaku to swords to martial arts. You've got goons wearing heavy body armor forcing the heroes to get in close. You've got a high-stakes card game that ends in, you guessed it, a shootout in a Berlin nightclub where everybody is drenched in falling water. You've got what I've seen described as a lethal game of Frogger in the Arc de Triomphe roundabout. You've got shotguns that fire incendiary rounds. You've got a scene filmed from a top-down perspective that evokes Metal Gear Solid or Hotline Miami. You've got a lengthy climatic action scene on a massive staircase that Rocky Balboa could never. It feels like director Chad Stahelski was influenced this time around less by Hong Kong heroic bloodshed movies than he was by video games that throw an absolute onslaught of enemies at you, knowing that the real appeal isn't the plot but overcoming the next challenge the game throws your way.

And it also has a surprisingly melancholy plot, clearly intended as a grand finale for this series given that Keanu Reeves, as great as he still is as an action hero, is also 58 years old and not getting any younger. Set an unspecified amount of time after the events of the first three films, we start with John, having gone into hiding with help from the Bowery King now that he's wanted dead by the High Table, rigorously training for the day when he sets out to get his revenge on them. We open the film with the Bowery King presenting John with his trademark Kevlar-lined tuxedo and asking if he's ready, and from there, we begin our nearly three hours of globe-trotting ass-whooping that's structured almost like a video game as John has to complete various errands for allies before he finally takes on the Marquis Vincent de Gramont, the extremely wealthy French fop hired by the High Table to take John out. John's hope for the escape from a life of crime he's sought for four movies now is a high-stakes duel with the Marquis where, if he wins, he will claim as his prize freedom from the obligations placed on him in accordance with a series of arcane rules that govern organized crime in the series' universe. The Marquis, who has more than a bit of a dirty coward streak to him, responds by putting an ever-escalating bounty on John's head in the tens of millions of dollars in the hopes that somebody will kill John before he has to face Baba Yaga head-to-head.

This movie is long, and it feels like it, in what turns out to be a double-edged sword that marks its biggest weakness but also does a great job putting the viewer in John's headspace. While there are moments, especially early in the film, that are light on action, they all serve to build up to the film's bloody action set pieces, featuring a who's who of character actors ranging from returning series veterans like Laurence Fishburne, Ian McShane, and the late Lance Reddick (who died just days before this film premiered) to newcomers like Hong Kong action star Donnie Yen as the blind assassin Caine who clearly respects John and doesn't like that he has to kill him, Shamier Anderson as the mysterious Mr. Nobody who you're not quite sure is an ally of John's or an enemy, Scott Adkins as the slimy German crime boss Killa, pop star Rina Sawayama delivering a surprisingly solid acting debut as a yakuza boss' daughter named Akira, and Bill Skarsgård making the Marquis a truly loathsome villain in his cowardice and brutality. Each and every one of them gets plenty of time to shine in the action scenes, almost to the point of bloat, especially once the film reaches Paris and starts throwing everything it possibly can at John; at some point, you have to ask yourself when enough is enough. It's hard to complain about this much ass-kicking in one movie, but it eventually starts wearing you down, just like the film seems committed to wearing John down on his long and grueling road to freedom. There's easily a version of this movie that, in the hands of a lesser director than Stahelski, could've just turned into a slog.

But... this movie has enough killer action scenes to power three whole other comparable movies. Every time I started to ask myself if I'd seen enough, this film grabbed me by the ear, pulled my attention back to the screen, and managed to find a way to impress me once again. I've already given a rundown of some of the highlights, but suffice it to say, just as the first movie helped spur a revival of Hollywood action cinema, I can see many scenes from this one inspiring other filmmakers to try and imitate them. In particular, I'd like to comment on the influence that video games seem to have had lately on action movies, made more obvious than ever here in the scene shot from a top-down view. In games, the action needs to be crystal-clear and easy to follow for a very practical reason, namely that you don't wanna make things unnecessarily difficult and cheap for the player. Bad camera angles used to be the bane of 3D action games, especially before the likes of Resident Evil 4 and Gears of War perfected how it's done in the modern day, and oftentimes, it was specifically because they were trying to imitate the "cinematic" flair of the movies. As it turned out, the same qualities that make action easy to follow in games also apply well to movies, and I would not be surprised if a behind-the-scenes featurette shows Stahelski and others involved with the production openly cite those games as a direct inspiration.

The Bottom Line

This is a movie that's designed to kick your ass as hard as John kicks the asses of the goons sent after him, for better or worse. It makes up for its pacing problems and overly-long ending with sheer overwhelming firepower, demonstrating that quantity is a quality all its own. If you want the last word in outrageous action, then bring a nice comfy seat to the theater and steel yourself.

#john wick #john wick chapter 4 #action #action movies #crime movies #chad stahelski #keanu reeves #2023 #2023 movies #donnie yen #bill skarsgård #hiroyuki sanada #shamier anderson #ian mcshane #clancy brown #rina sawayama #scott adkins #lance reddick #laurence fishburne

[angry-geese]

Blood Ties - chapter Forty-one: Perfect Preparation

Soulmate au Choso x Reader

Warnings: not OSHA compliant. minor violence and injury. Light angst. Swearing. Smut at the end of the chapter, face riding, cowgirl, unprotected sex.

Synopsis: some training with Yuki, plus some smut at the end of the chapter :)

Word count: 2.6k

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Masterlist

Ahead in the distance, the air shimmers. The hallway stretched out for a few yards, leading to what looks to be a school gymnasium, minus the bleachers. The ceiling stretches up so high that it's shrouded by a layer of fog, but you're certain it's there. Although no light sources are visible, the room is plenty bright. The floor is wood, and the wall panels are covered with a thick layer of padding. Racks of weapons line the wall closest to the door. Across the room, against the opposite wall, is a mixture of targets and practice dummies. Yuki stands at this wall, closely inspecting a human-shaped dummy.

“So tell me,” Yuki says, “what kind of girls are you into?”

“Tall buff ones that can kick my ass,” you say.

She chooses one of the dummies, moving it out into the center of the court. The figure buzzes with cursed energy, as if it’ll come alive at any moment.

“Is it safe?” You ask. “To be off like this? Shouldn't one of us be with Tengen?”

“Tengen isn't far.” Yuki says. “To manipulate his barrier like this, it takes a lot of energy. He has to be close by.”

So he's watching you. Great.

Your eyes fall to the rack of weapons. They shine with the same mirage-like effect as the barrier. You suspect that they're simply an effect of Tengen’s barrier. If you were to leave with one, it wouldn't really be there.

From the rack, you tug down a two-handed sword. The blade is double-edged, with the end tapered to a tip. With the tip against the ground, and your hands on the hilt, it comes up to about your waist. Despite its size, it's quite light. At most, it's about four pounds. The weight is dispersed evenly throughout the blade.

From the rack on the wall, Yuki retrieves a thin, arm-length sword from the rack. A rapier.

“Will you practice with me?” Yuki asks. “I would be lying if I said I wasn't curious about your innate technique. I want to see how I stand up against it.”

“You’ll probably kick my ass,” you say, “but sure.”

She retrieves another two swords from the wall. Practice ones, with wooden blades. “Lets not use real blades against each other,” she says, holding the sword out to you hilt-first. “Just in case.”

The wooden blade is heavier than the steel one. Shorter too. This particular sword is shaped much like Grimsever. A backsword; a long, straight blade, sharpened on one side. Instead of the tip being ground into a point, it's rounded.

Yuki takes a stance you don't quite recognize, but it's clear her first move will be an attack. Her feet are about shoulder width apart, knees bent slightly, sword angled out in front of her.

On the opposite side of the circle, you take your stance.

"Ready?" She asks.

"Think so."

You duck just in time to avoid being his square in the face.

In the span of maybe half a second, she's crossed the circle entirely. It takes her a moment to recover, as her forward momentum cannot stop as fast as it starts.

Your blades hit at an awkward enough angle that it sends a shock of pain up your arms. The two of you stand there, arms shaking with the force of shoving the other back.

You release all the force that's gathered in your arms, narrowly ducking out of harm's way. Yuki stumbles forward a few steps. Your sword whacks her square in the back of the knee. Your swing, combined with her forward momentum, means the hit lands with a sickening thwack! As she rolls onto her back, you jab the tip of your blade into her sternum. Dead.

“I’m not counting this one, Kamo,” she says, sitting up. “You still haven't used your cursed technique.”

You neglect to mention that she needs to use hers, in order for you to use yours.

“Kamo?”

“You're married now, aren't you?” She says, motioning in the direction of Choso. “I know you never explicitly stated, but I figured you’d change your surname to his.”

“Why don't we practice two against one?” Choso asks.

“That's hardly fair on-” Yuki.

“Great idea!” She says.

When Choso steps into the circle, right beside Yuki, you finally understand. He means…

“I've seen the way you fight,” he says, “and I can tell you’re holding back.”

“Of course I’m holding back! I don't want one of us to get hurt!”

“That's not how you improve,” he says. “You truly outperform when under pressure. If we have to do something reckless to witness that, then so be it.”

What's gotten into him lately? There's a certain seriousness to him that you haven't seen since the worst Halloween of your life.

You can nearly taste the cursed energy in the air.

And you duck just in time to avoid being struck by his piercing blood.

Choso has the advantage of range. You? Not necessarily. Reading his attacks is considerably more difficult than the average sorcerer.

The arrow of blood whizzes past your head, before lodging into the wall behind you. Gathering a bit of cursed energy in your off-hand, you lunge for him, keeping your center of gravity low. Neither of you seem to be certain of what you’re doing, as the moment your body connects with his, you both freeze.

As long as Choso has cursed energy, he essentially has no weakness.

“You’re still holding back,” he scolds.

With your arms around his waist, and your head firmly pressed against his side, you’re well in the position to knock him over.

Any other thought you could possibly have is stopped in its tracks when a knife lodges itself into the floor beside your head.

You’ve completely forgotten about Tsumoko.

The second knife is easy enough to knock away with your blade. A metallic smell fills the air, as Choso readies another attack. Convergence. If left any longer, pinpricks of blood will shoot out in all directions. Yuki steps towards you, selecting another knife from a roll held in her left hand.

That leaves you with two options: brace yourself for his attack, or her’s.

“Just so we're clear on this? This is hardly fair!” You call out.

If all the yelling hasn't drawn Tengen’s attention, then everything else has.

The wood flooring skids across your hands painfully as you dive. Shielding the back of your head with your arms, you manage to avoid any lasting damage. Your stomach hits the ground hard enough to knock the air from your lungs. You’re only allowed a moment to catch your breath. Choso hauls you over his shoulder. Much to your dismay, that makes something deep in your stomach stir.

If he is really part cursed spirit, then a reversed cursed technique should work on him…

Your off-hand connects with his ribs, and the blast of cursed energy is enough to stun him. When he drops you, you land roughly on your feet. A shock of pain is sent up your ankles from hitting the ground. The space between his eyebrows creases. It's impossible to tell whether or not you’ve actually hurt him. The thought of having done such a thing frightens you.

The smell of your cursed energy mixes with his. Your nostrils burn if you inhale too deeply.

Your blade clatters as you toss it aside, gathering cursed energy in your hands. All the warmth in the air appears to get sucked up. In this room, the temperature has dropped at least ten degrees.

You’re not drawing from your own reserve, you’re drawing from the air around you.

It gets to a point where you can no longer hold it. Not wanting to hurt Yuki, you redirect the blast at the last second, taking out a rack of shields. Splinters of metal and wood spray out in all directions.

“What the hell was that?” She asks.

“Similar to Gojo’s infinity in a sense.” Tengen steps out from the fog, and into view. “Through concentration of one’s cursed technique, the cursed energy that is lost during an attack is nearly instantly replaced.” He says. “In this sense, it was channeled into a canon-like blast.”

“It sounds good in theory.” You say. “Until I have complete control over it, it's useless.”

"What do you call it?" Yuki asks. "A technique like that needs a name.

…

When you sit on the bed, Choso sits beside you, reaching past to turn on the table lamp. His lips have reddened slightly, caused by his teeth digging into them. The skin of his cheeks and ears are still flushed from the heat of the shower. You tuck a still damp lock of hair behind his ear.

Your hand moves to knead at your aching shoulder. Maybe it's the cold. Maybe you simply pushed yourself too hard.

Wounds healed by a reversed cursed technique often have side effects. Those that heal completely, oftentimes don't heal right. It's simply the chaotic nature of cursed energy. It can't be helped. You're lucky enough to have use of that arm at all, considering the circumstances.

“Something the matter?” He asks.

“It's just my shoulder,” you say. “I think I twisted it weird.”

His breath ghosts across your neck as he leans in. His fingers trace along the curve of your shoulder blade, before pressing a bit firmer into the muscle.

“There's a knot here.” He says. His thumbs press into a particularly tender spot, eliciting a small whimper from you. Choso isn't sure why he likes this noise so much. He works his thumbs across the tense muscle, and it relaxes slightly.

“Do you know what a lot of humans do on their wedding night?” You ask, tugging him a bit closer by his shirt collar.

“What?"

“They consummate their marriage,”

His eyes widen in amazement. You sure know a lot about this. “How?” He asks.

You’re really going to have to spell it out for him.

“They have sex, Choso,” you say.

“Oh,” he says, and a moment passes before he truly understands what you're saying. “Oh.”

Your hands plant on his shoulders, gently pushing him back. His head falls just short of the pillow.

“Don't want to get rusty,” you say.

“You’re suggesting private lessons?” If it weren't for the sly grin he tacks onto the end of his words, you would have no clue he has any ulterior motive.

That's… new. What the hell have he and Yuki been talking about in here? Not that you’re complaining.

“Absolutely,” you say, “I think there's a few things we could learn from each other.”

“Why don't we start with stretching? I want to see just how flexible you are…” he says. The pads of his fingers dig into your hips.

“You should choose your words more carefully, Kamo,” you say, “because I might have to take you up on that offer.”

It doesn't take long for his erection to begin pressing against your thigh.

“Can I say something wrong?” You ask, sitting back on his hips. Whether unconsciously, or on purpose, he bucks up into you.

“Depends,” Choso says. “Is it the good type of wrong, or the bad?”

You laugh softly. “Definitely the good kind,

“You don't know how badly I wanted to fuck you next to Naoya’s passed out body.” You say. “I mean the way you just bodied him in that fight was so-”

You never get to finish your sentence. Choso pulls you down for a kiss by the shirt collar.

"He had a knife to your neck," Choso says as he breaks away from the kiss. You almost died.

"Well, human brains are a funny thing," you say. "The neurons that transmit fear, and the ones that transmit arousal, oftentimes overlap. I think adrenaline has something to do with it too."

He blinks.

To save from the awkwardness of the situation, you lean back down to kiss him. Your teeth clash together uncomfortably as he tilts his head up to meet yours. He nips at your bottom lip. As your mouth opens in a gasp, the strong muscle of his tongue presses into it.

Despite having two layers of clothing between the two of you, you're moaning, and grinding needily against one another.

You can't bear it anymore. You feel as if you’ll die if he doesn't touch you.

You tug his pants down just enough to free his hardening cock. Precum has beaded at the head, and dribbles down the shaft as it stands to attention. It doesn't take you long to shove your shorts down your hips, and toss them off the side of the bed.

You straddle his hips, using your hand to guide yourself down onto him. He stops you by placing his hands on your hips.

"Wait-" Choso says, swallowing hard. "sit on my face."

You feel as if you’re going to faint. Your head is heavy, but your limbs feel light.

Without the energy in you to protest, you allow him to guide your hips to rest over his face.

“I’ll suffocate you!” You say.

“Please do.” His voice is muffled by your thighs, but the desire in it is clear.

You grip the headboard with enough force that it groans. Fearing you’ll break it, you settle more of your weight onto Choso. The feeling of a hot tongue trailing up your slit is nearly enough to make you faint. Your grip falls from the headboard, to Choso’s hair, eliciting a groan of approval from him.

You don't dare question where he learned this. If he mentions Mahito again you may actually lose it. Perhaps some things are left better unsaid.

You grind down against him. It’s instinct, more than it’s conscious action. Choso doesn't seem to mind. His hands cup the curves of your hips, preventing you from squirming away from him.

It doesn't take him long to work you up, and through your own release. Even then, he holds you there until overstimulation registers in your lust-addled mind.

Once free, you collapse beside him on the bed. Your arm moves to wipe at the sweat that’s beaded across your forehead. The roots of his hair are still damp, but the ends have dried.

A bead of precum drips down onto your hand as it wraps around his shaft, guiding him inside of you. Your previous release has left you sensitive, and practically dripping with arousal. This new angle allows him to hit far deeper than before. There's no real rhythm or pattern to the way you ride him. His hips buck up to meet with your thrusts, hands planted firmly on your waist. The sound of your hips slapping against his fills the room.

The fragments of sentences that leave his lips are complete nonsense, but you can clearly make out your name, and various words like “please”.

His fingers tighten against your hips, signaling he’s close to his own release. You ride him through his own orgasm, letting his cock soften inside of you. It takes considerably longer than expected. To save yourself from tiring out—although you already are—you lay on top of him, your chest pressed against his.

You can taste yourself on him as he kisses you. A strong set of arms snake around your tired body, tugging you closer to him. His fingers trace up the curve of your spine.

“I didn't mean to scare you.” He says. “When we-”

“You didn't.” You say. “I just- I’ve been thinking a lot about Shibuya recently. And I don't mean to, but I can't stop.”

It would crush him to know you were frightened.

“I’ve been thinking about what we’re gonna do, once this whole mess is over,” you say. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been gone so long that my old job has either fired my ass, or filed a missing persons report. Same probably goes for my apartment. I’m definitely a month behind on rent right now,

“My parents live about a town over from my old place. It's like a 45 minute drive on a bad day. I've crashed there a few times since moving out.”

“How long do you plan on staying in Japan?” He asks.

“I still haven't figured that out.” You say. “Probably until this is solved, and my money runs out. If you really want to stay, I could apply for citizenship but-”

“Jujutsu society will likely view my brothers and I as monsters, no matter the circumstances,” he says. “Even with the support of Satoru Gojo himself, we’ll likely face issues. While the law may not be able to do anything about us, a sorcerer with a grudge, and enough initiative will. Perhaps it is better if we left. At least for a while.”

You nod, nuzzling a bit closer to his chest. Let the dust settle.

“I have no clue how I’m gonna face my mother.” You say. “She's gonna know. Even if I lie, and say I don't know what happened to him, she’ll-”

She will know. Your mother has the right to know what happened to her son, even if you’re the one responsible for his fate. Whether or not she forgives you, only time will tell.

“We’ll be alright.” Choso says. “We’ll figure something out.”

#jjk x reader #jjk #choso x reader #choso kamo x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #choso #choso kamo #blood ties #not osha compliant #sorry ive been a little dead my brain only wants to consume stranger things rn ksgdkfhk

[straightfromthetorturedpoetsdept]

the great war being a delusion and a hoax makes me lose my shit and to be honest the fact that the majority of swifties dont see that adds to the meaning

LITERALLY THOUGH. LIKE IT IS IN YOUR FUCKING FACE.

But you're so fucking right about this, anon. It does add to the meaning of the song and it also is going to be so interesting to see all the homophobic swifties being like "omg how did we not realize she literally says her in the song" it's kind of like the "I want her midnights" people literally hear the difference but the homophobia stops them from seeing it for what it is.

It's similar how the people couldn't see how taxing a country to high hell for losing a war was going to have unintended consequences, like they couldn't forsee the nazis but I mean... they lost a war, taxing them for it was rubbing salt in the wound. It was going to lead to radicalism somehow, we know poverty leads to criminal activity. The fact that they called it the great war was also peak IGNORANCE AND ARROGANCE at once.

Like, the fact that it's called the great war was so good on her part because it is so self aware. It's like so self aware and it makes sense why she writes songs like anti hero and you're on your own kid and the lucky one and like it's such a double edged sword being a superstar you know?

Like, you know that saying that you have to be a little narcissistic to be famous? Before the public got the word mixed up with the disorder by the same name, this really could be taken to mean that people who seek out fame, they are looking for external validation due to a deep insecurity about their worth. I think that people who want to get famous for their art in particular want their pain to be validated by connecting to as many people as possible, but for taylor, I think this is how she decided to escape that internal loneliness capitalism instills in us from birth in america.

I think, it's so infuriating to see how people are just completely missing the obvious fucking truth just staring them in the face and like forging ahead and almost continuing to make an ass out of themselves? It's like people will literally draw wine on tee shirts, a red fucking cellphone, a hickey but a door for the line that calls for red lips.

It's like how are you not seeing it? Why did you not draw red lips? Is it because you'd be forced to reconcile with the imagery of the song and how it is obviously about a woman? Is it because once you draw those red lips, you realize she's never dated a lipstick wearing man but she was on the vogue valentine days cover with her "and they were roommates" best friend and then you'll be forced to wonder if she really named her songs purple-gay and purple-red on purpose before going into a song about how she hates herself?

Is it because once you draw the literal interpretation of the red lips, you'll be forced to reckon with how ignorant you've been to how gay she's been for almost 10 years now? It's literally been a decade since she released new romantics. Once you draw the red lips, how do you interpret the lyrics "and you can want who you want, boys and boys and girls and girls" or "we team up then switch sides like a record changer" or "rose flowing with your chosen family and it would've been sweet if it could've been me" or "there's a chain around your throat, a piece of paper where I wrote ill wait for you" <- taylor is singing this btw or "I don't want you like a best friend" or "you won't have to cry or hide in the closet" or "maybe I was jealous that he'd come between me and britney" or "maybe it was ego swinging, maybe it was her" or the entirety of hoax?

It's in your face, why can't you fucking see it?

It's going to be embarrassing for a lot of people when she comes out this June.

#the fact that she is releasing new music during lesbian viz week again is stressing me out #deja vu #ask and you shall receive #anon love #gaylor

[eunique]

When you get this you have to answer with 5 things you like about yourself, publicly. Then, send this ask to 5 of your favorite followers (non-negotiable, positivity is cool)❤️❤️❤️

To be honest I don't have the best of self esteem. Self esteem is something I really lack and it has been lacking since forever ago ; w;)b

But since this is non-negotiable, I'll be nice to myself so here we go

1) My Art

I'm still my own worst critic but I'm proud of myself in how far I've come. Recently went through all my old art and it really put into perspective in where I am now compared to 2012 me. But every now and then I look at some of the stuff I did in like 2020 and am still proud of some of the stuff I did. I definitely think I can still improve and learn more but I think child me would've been fucking hyped to see my art now.

2) My boba tastes

Sounds really weird but I've had a few friends ask me for reccomendations when we go to Gongcha and they've all enjoyed my recs. Even my Chinese asf mum approves of it so yeah. I may have shit taste in maybe everything else but I still got superior taste in boba tea 😤

3) Being Bilingual

My Chinese still sucks ass but I'm glad I can speak enough Chinese to hold a conversation and help people. Plus, it's also a really good way to talk shit about someone who is in the exact same room as you. Still anxious asf to use it in public tho but that's a different story.

4) My ability to learn (most) things quickly

I generally can learn most things relatively quickly whether I'm learning it myself or I'm being taught how to do whatever I'm learning. I've been a pretty fast learner in a lot of things (aside from maths, chemistry and DAWs to name a few). Taught myself a few things like how to cast off a knitting via YouTube. Taught myself to draw and still teaching myself new things to name a few. Still predominantly self taught in art to this day :)

5) My brain

Gonna get this out the way. I'm not the traditional "booksmart". Never liked academics. Sucked at academics and certainly didn't help that my primary school essentially set me up for failure. Not even smart in the slightest tbh. I'm very much dumbass to the max and I'm absolutely fine with that. I literally joke about being so head empty.

But I do like my brain for the amount of bullshit it consumes and my brain can literally visualise anything as well as visualise a sound. If you told me to imagine an apple and then told me to imagine someone taking a bite out of that apple, I can visualise the object and visualise the sound of someone taking a bite of that apple. I think it sorta stems from my artsy background.

But it is also a double edged sword bc I can then visualise and hear the most cursed videos in my head if it's cursed enough to stick to my brain. That or if someone told me to imagine polystyrene rubbing against each other and squeaking, I can mentally see the exact action and hear that exact sound ringing in my ear and it makes me want to shrivel up like a prune :')

This took me all day to think about because again, idk who self esteem is. But this really made me think about what I like about myself. I think I care too much about what others have thought of me in the past that it has really warped my self perception. Even the 75 question genshin impact kin quiz which I took twice gave me scarily accurate results both times. That along with almost every uquiz I've taken during 2021.

I still struggle to not let how people see me get in the way but it's still really hard to not overthink that every time. But it does help that I have amazing friends online and irl that I can be myself 100% unapologetically and this hellsite where I'm not forced to keep up a certain facade :)

#inbox #fren stuff ❤️ #Sorry the end got a tad bit depressing #But genuinely this ask really made me think abt that stuff I know I'm good at and it made me feel better abt myself #Even if it is by a little bit #Didnt think I needed that ask till now so ty for sending it through! <3

[biggirl-mave]

(Originally posted to twitter)

You're woken up by the sound of your roommate's alarm clock, it was a constant throughout your week. Given your height of a measly four inches you never really had the opportunity of having your own room, instead you slept on her nightstand. Living with someone that was far bigger than you was a double edged sword. On one hand she would help you around the apartment as much as she could, but on the other hand she could be very oblivious sometimes which could be frustrating in a couple ways. Sometimes she wouldn't notice where you were, this has lead to plenty of accidents that leave you plastered to her body. Either she's stepped on you or she's sat on you, she does notice you after a minute or two... usually. The other frustrations come from her dressing like she's the only person that lives in the apartment. It's a very, very common sight for her to be wearing some tight fitting clothes. Clothes that almost force you to watch her generous backside jiggle with every step. It wasn't a perfect life, but she did care about you and your friendship.

As her alarm clock is blaring she fumbles for the snooze button, still asleep. She doesn't notice as she practically smacks you off of the nightstand, sending you flying across the room. She gets up and goes to take a shower, while you slowly figure out where you've landed. The laundry basket. Your struggling only pulls you deeper and deeper into the clothes, eventually you stop struggling and accept that you need help to get out. You're doomed. She steps out from the bathroom wrapped in a towel that barely covers her. She bends over as she looks for you on the nightstand, giving you a perfect look at her ass. She gives up and goes to get clothes out of the basket before she pauses, noticing you. It's an awkward few moments before she starts blushing, "I see what you want, no need to be this direct though." Your face goes pale as she reaches in, not for you, but for the panties you're stuck in. "Don't worry, I'll make sure to treat you right~". Before you can do anything to stop her, you're greeted by two massive pale tree trunks as she slides her legs in. She pulls them on slowly before getting halfway up her thighs where she starts tugging and bouncing, trying desperately to pull the tight pair up. You're pulled tighter and tighter against her flesh, your struggling becoming more and more useless by the second. Eventually she has them on, and you're trapped deep in the valley of her ample ass. She puts on a pair of tight jeans sealing your fate.

She drives to work, every bump in the road felt as you're ground into her. It's a long, long day as your taken along for her shift in IT. Her ass tries to grind you into paste as she walks the halls, you're pressed up against her asshole while she unplugs cables, and the long, long minutes sat at her desk waiting on a new ticket, the 230 pounds of pressure squishing you flat in her chair. 8 long hours of this, the tension builds inside you. More and more your struggling to stop yourself but it's no use. She feels the warm goopy liquid explode out of you. You desperately try to catch your breath after your orgasm, only for to be forced to swallow her ass sweat and she intentionally rocks her weight back and forth on you as she makes sure you get it all out.

The drive back to the apartment is long and tense, inspite of how tired she is after her shift she takes the stairs agonizingly slowly. Knowing exactly what she's doing. She slams the door shut behind her and rips her pants off. Your roommate reaches down into the back of her panties to pull you out, haphazardly dangling you I'm front of her face as she bites her lip. "You had your fun, but it's my turn now." Before you can react you're shoved down the front of her underwear and pressed against her pussy. She's dripping wet already as she forcefully rubs you up and down her slit, there's no care behind her movements. In this moment to her you're a sex toy, nothing more. She works faster and faster until she stops for a moment "Deep breath" she warns you before pushing you in. A few moments later, you're washed out in a torrential flood of her juices as she loudly, and proudly, moans. Letting you know how good you felt. She wipes you down with her shirt before giving you a kiss and pushing you deep into her cleavage. She gives you a few bounces before laying down on the couch and drifting off to sleep, a big content smile on her face.

[scytheknite]

F*ck

This day, in this moment, I'm not sure where we belong. I never know where home is. I never feel like I am truly wanted. I fuck up every relationship I develop. I just want to take Aurora and run to a beautiful country with amazing food and culture. Every person that cares for me ends up getting hurt in one way or another. Even those that say they will be with me- I know its temporary. There will never be a being that commits to me and accepts all of who I am. I'm alone. Most stay around just long enough to gain what they need or until I drive them away. I find myself constantly fighting for a space in this world.; always looking for a feeling of contentment and undying friendship. There is never a direction to go that makes sense. Everyone I Love gets hurt near me. I have become a living being of Karma. It has become a lonely life. It always was and continues to be so. My family doesn't want or need me near; the loves I've found always leave or push me away. Even my friends that I thought would be there till the end are nowhere to be found. Due to my own actions; No denying that. I wonder if I will ever find a home that I just belong in. A home that will keep me, love me and support me. My sexual encounters are always measured by what the other person is willing to accept. My intimate relationships are thereby controlled by their willingness to participate in a consistent connection with a being such as me. It's unfortunate: but who am I to judge them... I couldn't say that I would make a different decision if I was in their position. I was born unloved. Raised almost as a competition; and will most likely never be truly wanted. A child born of force, tossed around to those that did not want the responsibility; and now an adult: shuffled from home to home consistently unwanted and undesired. I do wonder if ill find a home for us. A place we can call home and just be content. This life is lonely; Never able to truly express how I feel without others finding a reason to blame me for the emotions i've developed from their actions. It's difficult to be the person that forces others to see their truth. Being a karmatic being is not something I would wish upon another. We are hated and haunted. We are the reflection and confirmation of the things people choose not to assert. A force of heaven and hell that most are unable to accept. I lose control and say F*ck it. Why care when they don't? Why put in the effort when it's always going to bite me in the ass? I occasionally wonder if I had not been born// how peaceful and successful others' lives would be. There's not much here for me. The friends I've found are gone, the family i was born into is dismissive; Hell, even my cat prefers other people to me. Being alone seems... safer. For others and me, most don't deserve what I have to offer hell or heaven alike. Looking for a sense of purpose and placement has become almost defeating. After so long one starts to wonder if this life is even one worth living. It's become a bigger hassle to exist than to simply not. I'm not saying I don't bite my own self in the ass; it would just be nice to have someone. Just one person to call my own and be open with: truly soul matched. To a point where no one else matters and we have each other; I don't see it becoming a possibility. People pretend to accept you as you are; yet they always have something to say when you're gone. Sh*t; I'm guilty of it myself. I'm scared- and I'm rarely afraid of anything in this life. I know I can destroy and create lives for myself time and time again. Its sad though. To feel alone and have no one to genuinely express myself to. It's always a double-edged sword trusting someone and giving them your truth. To constantly wonder if the friend you have made is really just Foe; its a battle of the ages. One never knows if the people they entrust with their darkness and light will just dismiss or abuse you. Cheers.

#grunge #lost #lookingforpurpose #tryingtofindwhereibelong #unsure #isitalljusttemporary?