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pansear-doodles · 10 months

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Oh boy they're finally here in art fight

Their description is a handful. I spent quite a lot on it and it has a good chunk of my projections so

have fun with that.

Name: Artificer (Arti, Arty, Ruffian) Pronouns: Any/All Likes: Stress Relief through violence, Cuddling and being hugged (consentual), Gasoline, Spending time with friends, Shouting, Quiet places, Biting, Kids, Stabbing things, Having their hand held, Hunting Dislikes: Seeing their loved ones get hurt, Being alone, Stressful situations, Water, Being belittled, Feeling insecure, Losing, Feeling restrained, Being unable to see things

History: Artificer grew up in a small slug colony that resided in Garbage Wastes. This colony was jointed with the local scavenger colonies that are littered across the region, as an agreement to help one another: The slugcat's slippery body to go through narrow spaces were useful to the scavengers in their search for food and newer resources, while the scavengers provided what they have with their more mountainous amount of resource. Artificer had no friends and family- all they knew was to work for the scavengers to earn any incentive in order to survive. This lifestyle went on for quite sometime, but throughout, they maintained their care for others, even if the such is not reciprocated. Eventually, they had kids at an early age as a single mother. They never expected them but their presence brings them great comfort and something they have never really experienced before: happiness. They were desperate to keep them alive, making some self-sacrifices to take care of them. One day, they got sick. This was the bleakest day for Artificer and they couldn't afford anything to get them healthy. This prompted them to steal a pearl from a lone scavenger toll. They got quickly found out and was chased, but along the way, they trip and lose one of their kids- this fright caused a scavenger to accidentally throw a spear at them. Artificer was still being chased but came upon a river. They make a jump to continue the run, but a spear was thrown at them. Artificer's response to the spear hit was to build up an explosion to defend themself, but that separated them from their second child when the build-up was too much to bear, and the child fell down the river, taken away by leeches. Losing their children, their happiness, the dormant anger that laid deep in them- it cracked. They changed. They were permanently scarred. Their desires to shy back were no longer there- they wanted to fight to vent out all the anger they had. They destroyed things. They hurt people. They were driven to become something that they could not longer recognize but embraced. They also met Five Pebbles along the way, who hires them to drive away the scavengers found in the Metropolis. They obliged at first, clearing out the first dozens before a mysterious figure beckoned them to leave. Artificer chased after the figure who was taunting them with false promises, going out of Five Pebbles and finding themselves back on the ground. Enraged by the figure's disappearance, they ignited their surroundings through explosions. There, they meet a peculiar orange slugcat. They fought, and Artificer almost wins- only being beaten with a small compliment that broke them. They were roped up and taken to a shelter to talk about their problems to the slugcat, who was deeply sympathetic to their circumstance and wanted to help them out of the hole they dug themselves into. This slugcat was Hunter, who was on the brink of their grave illness. Artificer was convinced to learn how to heal and decided to partner up with Hunter so they can sought their happiness together as friends. But this friendship eventually lead them to allow romantic feelings to develop. With someone new in their life to care about, Artificer's overall anger lowered. They helped Hunter reunite with their creator in order to live longer and discover that their pups are still alive- as all creatures follow the cycle. However, they do not recognize their parent due to the trauma, breaking their heart once more. They eventually learn to accept this reality and is once more comfortable to be around them. Artificer would continue their care as they open up to other slugcats and even Five Pebbles. Artificer would go on to marry Hunter, as they deeply care for each other and know each other well enough to help one another when one is at their downtime. Despite having their kids back and finding family and friends that care about them, their trauma is still latched onto them, and all the scars they endure remain with them. It is an imperfect happy life.

Personality: Grumpy, Easily angered, and combative on the surface- especially towards strangers. Though deep inside, Artificer is passionate about looking after the people they care about. They are motherly and enjoy lively activities to be experienced with others. They can be kind and loving, given that they do not see the subject as threatening. They are usually distrusting of others unless they prove in some way that they won't hurt them. They are serious toned and while they have good intentions, doesn't execute their thoughts in the best way at times. They are anxious and at times experiences stressful visions triggerred by certain things that cause them to spiral. Most of the time, they translate these fears to commit acts of violence, as it is their form of defending themself from the externalities. It's the one thing they grew up that assures their own safety. Artificer both enjoys and hates solitude. For one, it gives them time to breathe and think for themselves. For another, it makes them feel loneliness, which is something they deeply despise. It can be difficult to read them, but sometimes their current needs don't need to be stated to be known. Despite not wanting to feel overwhelmed, Artificer can handle high amounts of stress, provided that they have security and if its for the sake of someone's wellbeing. They do not have a lot of self-respect and keeps their sadness in private where nobody can see them as vulnerable. They subconciously want people to back off from their business.

Biology: Artificer's parents were genetically modified and these modifications were passed down. They have a special bacteria stored in their system that is present in the acid in Garbage Wastes, used to break things down and turn them into fizzling gas. This gas can build up and cause explosions that pore out of their body- their tail and openings such as eyes and mouth especially. Overusing it consistently would start to hurt Artificer. These explosions can also be based on their current emotions. When experiencing overwhelming emotions, they are more explosive. Experiencing happy thoughts cause small bits of sparking or light smoke. Feeling depressed can hunker down their explosions. So on. The chemicals are also present in their saliva- making things coated in it explode with enough blunt force. Due to the bacteria's nature, Artificer can eat anything, this includes inedible junk that slugcats otherwise wouldn't normally eat and tough uncooked meat. Artificer's biological abilities are passed onto their children, but translated in a different way. The blue one can create hazes of varying effects based on what they eat and feel, while the green one's saliva is acidic and can melt through even metal. These abilities gave them the title The Diffuser and The Eroder respectively (nicknamed Diffy and Ery). Artificer is an adult.

Appearance: Artificer is a red slugcat with an atheletic strong fit. They have a short mane and are quite fluffy- the fluff extending to their fuse-like tail. Their eyes are blank (but not blind), fangs, a long blocky snout, triangular ears and a permanent burnt and cut scar on their left eye. They have various burn scars all over their body shaped like explosions. Overall, they are very sharp and edgy by appearance. Artificer likes wearing dark, punk and modest clothing. They do not enjoy wearing pastely colors. They mostly wear their wedding ring, engraved with the second karma symbol, and any form of accessories that allude to their children. They cherish these mementos. They do dress their kids up in casual looking outfits.

Relationships: Hunter - Loves - They care about each other deeply and always look after each other. While the two make great synergized fighters when together, they are always there at times when one desires the comfort of the other. Gourmand - Best Friends - Apart from Hunter, Artificer trusts Gourmand by a lot and is always fine with them taking care of their children. Survivor - Friends - Has helped with mentoring them, which in turn lets them see them as their child figure of sorts. Monk - Friends - Artificer always looks after them, seeing them as too kind for their own good. Rivulet - Friends - At times competitive and a bit feisty, but they are in good terms. Spearmaster - Friends - Good terms. Listens to some of their woes. Nightcat - Neutral - Doesn't mind them and yet finds them a neat friend for Survivor. Enot - Dislikes - Has absolutely no interest on them. Saint - Dislikes - Confused on why they diss on them, but they are pissed nonetheless back!

#rain world #rainworld #slugcat #rainworld downpour #rain world downpour #dp spoilers #downpour spoilers #artificer #my anthro au #art fight #my art

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iwaasfairy · 2 years

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┌─ “ „ SLICE ─┐

tw. noncon ! , pseudo-cest, coercion, explicit gore ! , a lot of blood, body horror, side character death, serial murders, yandere, bodily harm, explicit descriptions of violence wordcount. 6.7k

a/n. day 3 of kinktober ♡♡♡ this counts for all of my fics, but for this one I feel like i have to say it extra loud, please read the warnings. i normally don't write stuff quite this explicit, and i really wanted to push myself a little with this one, and I know this isn't going to be everyone's cup of tea.

also, I hope I don't have to say this, but I'm not trying to glorify anything that happens in this fic. it's the closest to horror i'll probably get in my work, and it's meant to be horror. I'm not trying to romanticize this. inspired by the horror movies i've been watching and thank you miss @seijorhi for betaing. i hope you like this fic because i really liked writing it!! mwuah!

kuroo tetsuro x fem!reader

Toughness isn’t a trait that is well-respected enough in his humble opinion. It’s not the ability to claw your way out of a hole or the ability or relate that makes a person, but the ability to endure. It’s how he was raised, how he’s been since he was a child— and it’s the toughness that people have over any other living thing that he might just appreciate most about the human experience. It’s maybe no wonder then that he loves watching the toughness in people crawl out of them like a slow seep of oil spilling into a lake— polluting everything around it. After a while of lasting through pain, everything else rots away, and the only light left in people's eyes often is that they’ve endured this long.

It’s almost victorious, really; to watch it start to break out in people. There’s an art to it. A magic.

Until he snuffs that dying light out, of course.

It’s not like he doesn’t respect their struggle. But if this hunger is his cross to bear, then he’ll bear it. It’s one he’ll be damned to fuck up with some misplaced mercy. Mercy only causes liabilities. His scarred hands are cold as he slips the panties into his pant pocket, rubbing the wet fabric between his fingers, before he moves and wraps his hands around the wooden handle to lift it over his shoulder, before bringing it down again with sickening efficiency. The axe silences the last of the pitiful, pained humming in the air— with a heavy thump of bone giving in, it’s splattered across the polished stone of the bank. There’s not much left of her to identify.

And the water will clean it out as the level rises again. But still he takes a moment to sit by her side, staring out over the soft waves of the river, and takes a deep, long breath of the copper-tasting air. Wet blood drips off the blade of the axe along the thick coat of molasses-like proof of the ones before, and creates a perfectly shallow pool of red that runs down all the way to the water, before he lets the handle drop entirely from his grasp.

His breath comes out in floaty, little clouds that disperse so easily into the cold, and make his lashes damp. Away from all the bustle of the city, there’s an unmistakable peace that rings like home. It’s nice and quiet out here.

You remember losing your left front tooth to an almost uncanny amount. Among other things, it was the last truly long summer in Tokyo.

Your eyes are wide as you’re stood in the living room with your hands fisted into your skirt and your mouth open as Kenma’s fingers prod around your gums. Even though he washed his hands… you can’t help but pout and frown. “Nw- ii—dan,” you mumble softly, and watch as he pulls his fingers out with a grimace and wipes them on his shirt.

“Yeah, yeah, give me a minute,” the brunet sighs, then slips the band around his wrist to tie his hair out of the way and sits back onto the back of the couch. “How’d this happen in the first place?” He prompts you to open your mouth again, watching with a slight smile as you loll your tongue out like a dog and try to speak with your mouth open, making a noise as your spit goes everywhere. “Put your tongue back, idiot. You’ll choke.”

“Bi—ss- an app—e -w.”

Kenma nii takes a deep breath as his face goes back to one of concentration, and you try your best to hold the instinct to wiggle your loose tooth like it’s a game. You’d get in Kenma’s way— and it’s plenty hard to get his help in the first place. But your brother seems focused enough on the task, if a little annoyed, even with his hands full of your spit. You’ll have to remember to thank him later. He fiddles around with it for a little more, before letting out an annoyed sound. “I can’t get a good grip on it.”

“I can try.”

Kuroo san speaks up from where he’s sat on the couch facing you two, staring at the way your face is scrunched up, half in amusement, half in concern. His big eyes are already pinpointing the issue in a way that only a meticulous person like he can, tongue trapped between his teeth. He only gets a shrug out of Kenma, but is quick enough to put the volleyball down and get up to where you’re standing. The noiret’s long legs carry him close, before he puts one hand on his knee to crouch down to you and pull you a few steps toward him.

And though Kuroo san is only a year older than your big brother, you’ve always found it somewhat odd to understand. For all the things that make them get along, they’re extremely different. Kuroo’s bright and bold and prods at people’s borders for sport. And well, Kenma… doesn’t. You’ve never really seen Kuroo as a neighborhood friend. He’s more like your big brother’s big brother, if anything. He spent the last three summers at your house, has slept over more times than you can count too. And you can count high.

His long legs bend until you’re just about face to face, and Kuroo’s natural smile puts you at ease just as well as Kenma can. Your big brother who you glance over to for confirmation, and who’s already let his attention go back to his game as he plops down into the couch. “No need to get comfortable, Kenma,” Kuroo says quickly, receiving a groan from the younger boy— but he doesn’t give it more attention. Instead he pats you on the head and then motions to his shoulder. “Hold on to me real tight, m‘kay? There’s going to be a little pinch.” You fist your hand into Kuroo’s red jacket automatically at his prompting, before he smiles and you mirror it.

And he then slides his thumb along your lip to pull it upward a little, before looking up at you. “Ready?” You nod before you think. Kuroo san’s quick to wipe his hands on his pants, breathe a soft ‘1, 2, 3,’ and just as easily yank the dangling tooth out of your skull with only a little noise of acknowledgement. “O~kay.” It’s more than a little pinch. It hurts. Hurts and feels weird and gross all at once.

The waterworks are activated before you can even think about it, tasting blood and salty tears all over your tongue as Kuroo inspects the damage. “Don’t cry, you did great!” He walks to the kitchen to fish the cupboards for a handkerchief, sticking it quickly under the tap before coming back to you with big steps. And though you’re still crying, his voice is pleasant as he nudges your face his way. “You’re fine, little bug, come here.” The blood is cleaned up and the rag pressed against it, and you hold it dutifully in place as he leans to pick you up and swings you onto his hip with a smile. He’s just … pleasant. You can’t explain it any better.

“Wanna watch your niisan and Tetsuro play?” he asks.

Again you find yourself nodding, and wipe your wet lashes— and spend the rest of that day watching the older boys play in the yard for the last free days before Kenma will be starting highschool. And swing your legs left and right each time either of them ask for some water, before hopping up and sprinting over with a small smile. You remember liking the heat of Tetsuro’s hand on your head, and the way your big brother lifts you into his neck with an almost-grin as he manages to make the older boy miss. You remember the split second of pure bliss falling asleep in a heap on the lawn with the both of them tuckered out from practice.

It’s only a couple days later they find the first girl, a middle schooler barely a few years your senior.

You only remember bits and pieces of the ones afterward. Life didn’t change too much for you, after all, but your parents were more vigilant after that. You weren’t allowed to go out without taking one of the guys with you, and Kenma would often walk you back from school. You were probably too young to understand fully why your mom would watch you come and go with such a concerned look on her face. She was worried… it was only natural.

But you suppose all that worrying didn’t save the next girl they found, because there was a next.

Another middle schooler, younger this time. There’s a memorial for her at the school across town, and though you don’t have to attend, her picture is plastered everywhere over your own school too. You can’t help but find something familiar in the soft smile, all bright eyed and friendly.

And you cling a little harder to Kenma’s hand that evening when you walk, leaning your head against his arm.

You also recall when the announcement of an evening curfew came blasting from the tv and how everyone around the table went a bit quieter. You didn’t use to eat dinner with the device playing before, but… you can’t help a parent’s worry. Your own happy chattering slowly drops off when even Kenma across from you turns to listen, and Kuroo falls quiet at the head of the table; your mom going a bit paler in the cheeks. ‘This morning, another young girl— Due to the recent events— curfew,’ only parts of it really enter the whirlwind of thoughts. Because you might not be old enough to fully understand, but you do see the way your mom stares at you with a sort of barely-hidden glaze, and how your father takes her hand to squeeze it.

Even Kenma nii, the world’s most unshakable person in your mind, puts his utensils down to get up for some water. It’s only Kuroo who dares break the awkward silence by clearing his voice, and saying the thing everyone’s thinking. “What a load of shit.” It lingers in the room like a badly worded joke, but you can tell, your mom agrees. “Instead of finding the guy doing it…” He doesn’t bother to hide the grimace as he scoops some more rice into his bowl, and Kenma returns to the table.

“Well, hopefully they will, soon.” Then your big brother pauses for a second, before he reaches over the table to pinch your nose softly, and sends you a hint of a smile. It’s starting to become a common sight, that melancholic expression people have when talking to you. The poor girl they show is yet another girl close enough to your age to make your chest feel a bit tighter, staring up at the tv as the reporter rambles. She’s cute, has the same pretty eyes as the last. She also reminds you a little of yourself— and that; that’s the thing that sets goosebumps erupting all over your skin. Biting your lip, picking at the ends of your hair for some kind of distraction.

You only look back down from the screen when Kuroo’s pinky softly brushes your own and pulls you back down to earth, and his golden eyes flick over your expression with a sad understanding, before he properly takes your hand to squeeze it.

Your mom is less good at concealing her concern, and the almost constant furrow in her brows doesn’t stir as the news finally moves on. Her pretty features are scrunched up as she forces a bit of food onto her fork. “Tetsuro kun, how about you sleep over? I don’t want you to go walking home alone tonight.”

It’s that night you stumble into the bathroom in the late hours to find the light on. As you peek in, you watch how Kuroo’s staring in the mirror with his hair a mess, no shirt, and seems so lost in thought he doesn’t even notice you until you push open the door further. “Kuroo san?”

His eyes narrow for just a moment, before he takes a deep breath at the sight of your form in the doorway. “Oh, it’s you. I… got up for a drink, and then I couldn’t sleep. A lot on my mind, you know.” His handsome face is a little puffy from rest, you can tell. He turns to you halfway to grin. “You’re a little overthinker too, hm? Did you know you talk when you’re dreaming?” You don’t know what to say to that, but it heats up your cheeks enough to make you feel, and look, doubly flustered.

“No, I didn’t… And I gotta pee, so-” You trail off as you watch Kuroo dry off his hands with slow, meticulous motions, before he hums. There’s scars all over his hands. Small ones, but also long lines like gashes, or scratched open skin, some newer than others. It makes for a pretty painful sight, criss crossed all over his palms, fingers, wrists. When he notices you stare, he only puts the towel away, but leaves his hands outstretched as if presenting them to you.

“Ah… scars from… receiving practice.” He’s smiling, but there’s something … It’s weird. You feel weird, hair on your arms standing up. It’s just the dark. It’s the dark. “Not pretty, is it? Looks a little scary.” Kuroo continues when you don’t speak, and wiggles his fingers.

But his eyes are so dim in this light you can’t read them, even zeroed in on your face. And your stomach turns, clearly upset. The news really is making you all anxious. And you’ve seen Kuroo in just as little clothing before, at the pool and at the beach, but… Your oversized, borrowed Nintendo shirt feels too sheer for how close the black haired boy is standing, or how rapidly your heart is patterning in your chest. Even if- he’s like a big brother- even if you know Kuroo doesn’t think like that, you can’t help but stare. And he must notice, because he slowly blinks. “What are you thinking?”

As he grabs the door handle, you back up to let him pass instinctively, and shake your head left to right. “Oh, just… It’s how you are, isn’t it? You always do things as well as you can.” It’s not a good answer, really, but Kuroo seems to take comfort in it anyway, and rests his hand onto your shoulder. Before he slides it up along your collarbone and up to your throat ever so slowly, gripping you there as if to hold you in place. You don’t dare breathe, let alone move as he seems to take all the time in the world appraising you, swiping his thumb along the vulnerable area.

“Give me a kiss?” You’re used to giving both of them goodnight kisses… but your muscles strain as you slowly press a peck to his soft cheek, before allowing him to wrap his other arm around your shoulders. He hums, sinks to your level to rest his lips to your forehead, and takes another long breath against your frozen state. He finally lets go after a few more frozen breaths, and wishes you goodnight for a second time that evening.

And it’s late, and definitely Kuroo looks a bit out of it, but you can’t calm down even in the safety of your own bed. That Kuroo is only one room over.

You don’t get much sleep that night.

“Tetsuro aniki~” you groan as the guy, who towers over you at the best of moments, wraps his long fingers around your hand and sways it left and right. His eyes shine with a soft glitter in the resting light of the afternoon, casting a golden edge around his figure. “I promised mom I’d head straight ho~me. And Kenma asked me to watch him beat the final boss too, so—”

“I’ll walk you home in a second,” Kuroo swears, dark hair a sweeping mess over his one eye. You kinda want to brush it back, and smack him in the back of the head for hauling you around. But you don’t, evidently, instead readjusting your bookbag and starting to fall into a lazy walk behind him as his grin goes from excited to triumphant so easily. As your eyes track the way his pants legs move with every step, you can’t help but giggle that he’s about to outgrow his highschool uniform. Not that he’ll need it for very much longer anyway. In a few months he’ll be going off to college, and then only months after that Kenma too. It’ll be weird.

You two walk in silence until you get to the less crowded streets of the Tokyo outskirts, and then a little past that too. It’s more open here, more room to breathe, to think. You know Tetsuro comes here often for his runs, and you can kind of see why. It’s in the way the lowering sun catches the river all the way along to the horizon, glittering brilliantly with golden and orange streaks. You let him pull you to a halt and push some quarters into a vending machine, as he lifts his shoulders and then drops them again. “Have you ever had a secret?” He doesn’t look at you while grabbing the drinks out of the tray, or even when he hands one to you and pops open the other.

But you suck your tongue and think, before opening your own. You childishly put your hand on your hip, and tilt your head. “If you’re trying to get me to air out my secrets it’s not going to work.”

“That’s not what I’m doing. Although…” Tetsuro chuckles, before glancing up at you. His sharp eyes have a frightening intensity for just a flash of a second, but it’s gone by the time he looks aside. “No, no, I’m being serious,” he confirms, and that smart mouth pulls up at the corners, “for now.”

“Hmm, well then. Are you thinking of any secret in particular?”

There’s a long silence. Filled with soft chirps of birds and wind, but long, long enough to have your mouth break open a sliver. Before you can speak though, the noiret blinks and stretches his arms above his head. “Nope.” He pops the ‘p’ and smiles, and though it crinkles the sides of his eyes, you can’t help but feel like… there’s something dishonest about it. “Just thinking out loud.” He shrugs, and slurps at the can a little too obnoxiously, before walking back over to you to sit down on one of the street railings, long legs tucked under himself. “Let’s say you had a hypothetical secret though, an important one.”

“Mhm,” you respond.

“Then you wouldn’t tell anyone that secret, would you?”

There’s a few seconds of silence again, but this time you dare look up at Kuroo, focusing on the way his eyes travel along the landmarks of your face. It’s awfully intimate. You can’t help but think Kenma wouldn’t like this, whatever it is. “I guess it depends on what the secret is, and who it’s affecting. I don’t think I could keep a secret from nii nii, at the very least.” Tetsuro’s golden eyes glide down to your mouth as you talk, before he chuckles again, bites his lip, then rubs his hand along his chin. And hops off of the bar, swinging his arms around like he’s nervous. You don’t get it. “What?”

“You’re a clever one,” is all Tetsuro responds, pillowy lips keeping a soft smile. Then he walks back over to you with all his height and lean but defined muscle, so much more intense than usual. “You really are clever.” He leans down and grabs your face between his two hands to look into your eyes, before continuing in a softer tone as your heart beats out of control once again. “I like that about you.”

You hear an unfortunate amount about the next two girls found in the months following, and each fact people happen to mention over drinks, in the paper, while walking along the street makes you wish everyone would just shut up. Defiled and bruised, strangled, and skulls bashed in by a sharp, heavy object. They show the pictures on the news, not the gruesome ones, but enough of them to turn your stomach and make you want to dry heave on the lawn to get the taste out your mouth. One of the girls had been dead for almost 6 weeks, they estimated, was fished out of the river naked and blue and headless. You can only wonder why the hell it took them so long to find her, but you don’t stick around long enough to hear. A terrible fate. The pictures of their smiling faces are always just as bad though. It’s uncanny. Same hair, same eyes, similar age and same general shape—

Looking in the mirror is so much harder that night, pulling your hair down from your ponytail. Because you just can’t shake the feeling that… you’d fit his type, if he were to ever see you walking around Tokyo.

But you get lucky, apparently. Because for all the stories and morbid reminiscing people seem to love doing, you never run into the freak. And though you feel sorry for the victims, the fear slowly starts fading. Winter comes and passes, and by spring, Kuroo moves into his college dorms. You can tell it takes a toll on Kenma. You can’t lie and say you don’t miss him either. Everything’s different for you too, though. After the six girls in those three tense years, the culprit suddenly seems to vanish into thin air. One month goes by, four, eight, and there’s no more trace of him— no more crippling fear about having to wear a skirt to school, or glaring at every person you walk by.

Of course, any trail the police go after soon goes cold, and the loss of those girls lingers.

You’re already eighteen when you see Kuroo again for the first time in years… and resort to flinging yourself around his neck with a smile and a well deserved congratulations. His graduate cap looks good on him, as does the smile painted on his pretty lips. Kenma’s familiar scowl is nowhere to be found despite swearing up and down that rooming with Kuroo has been an absolute nightmare, and the blooming bouquet that Tetsuro has tucked under his arm is only half as bright and wonderful as he is.

As your family and Tetsuro’s mom head off to drive to a restaurant to celebrate, you stay behind with him for a little longer, watching. The boy you knew looks so different now. The same, but entirely foreign too. You don’t illusion yourself to think that he stayed the same in his years away, and neither did you for that matter. You can tell in the way he can’t seem to stop looking at you, that Tetsuro sees it too. As you walk side by side, the familiar banter also comes quickly. You’re a lot sharper now than you used to be. Better able to match his pace, and his arm is warm when he leans into you with a laugh. “No, no— but, you’ve always been something special.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He doesn’t hesitate, just stares at your visage again. “You’ve always been… different to me, I don’t know. Since before I left, even.” You know your face is going hot in the cheeks, but there’s not a single thing you can do to stop it. It’s just… he smells so nice, familiar, and yet so much more grown, more mature than he was. He looks it too, buffed up a lot since middle and highschool— and though he was always huge compared to you, he feels even bigger. “You’ve changed so much though. Grew into yourself. It looks good on you,” he seems to mirror your thoughts, and sends your skin up in flames at that.

You let it hang in the air without a word though, because really, there’s nothing for you to say, right? He’s Kenma nii’s best friend. His longest lasting companion. Kuroo’s always been good at keeping you, and the conversation, going, so he breezes over it too. “Oh, I bought a house.”

“You bought a house?”

“Sure did,” he smiles, sliding his large hand around in his back pocket to pick out a set of keys that he presents to you a little too proudly.

But you’re more than glad to indulge him. “Shut up, no way. You capitalist scumbag.” Kuroo laughs with his whole body, and lets the joy crinkle up his eyes as his black mop of hair sweeps along his brows— before his hand lands alongside yours, and picks it up into his. Fingers tangle with yours so easily you’re almost lulled into believing that it really isn’t a big deal at all. But you know better.

“You’ll get it when you see the place.” Though you try to pull your hand out of his, he squeezes it a little harder when he notices, and doesn’t let his grin fade. “What? I can’t hold your hand?”

“Of course you can, but… I don’t know.”

“If you don’t know, then relax. Stop worrying.” You find yourself listening, much to Tetsuro’s amusement. He mulls the next words over for a few more seconds, before leaning into your ear much too close, and letting his lips brush the shell of your ear. “I missed having you around to drive me crazy.” Kenma nii is going to kill you for the thoughts you’re having.

You’re propped up onto the kitchen counter as Tetsuro talks, pouring more champagne, and most of the guilt is slowly melting away the longer the night goes on. Kenma had to get back home to stream a couple hours ago, and the family all went back right after dinner already— and you’re still giggling along with the noiret as he tells any story that comes to him from his time away. It’s damn near impossible not to get swept up in the excitement at the prospect of decorating, and throwing housewarming parties, and watching him start a real ‘grown up’ life.

“If you’re nice to me, I’ll allow you to take one of the rooms while you’re in uni,” he chuckles, his pretty mouth reaching at the glass for another sip. He’s close enough for you to smell his cologne and see each of the sparse freckles on his face, and how each passing second seems to bring him closer. So you laugh along before hopping off the counter, just to put some space between the two of you. Your hands are jittery, and brain fuzzy, and though it’s still Tetsuro aniki, you can’t get around the fact that things have changed.

So you turn and smile, walking backwards. “I’m going to go check out the rooms.”

“Hey,” he breathes, turning over his shoulder as you walk out of the living room, chuckling softly. “Don’t just go walking around another person’s house.”

“You tempted me with the room suggestion,” you call over your shoulder, swinging your arms as you walk down the hall and find the first door.

“Don’t snoop!” Kuroo laughs again, but doesn’t make any more effort to stop you. The first room is a bathroom you've already used earlier. But the hall continues around the corner. And you can hear Kuroo put away the champagne in the kitchen, so you have no doubt he’ll come after you in a second. You’re not actually snooping. The next door you open is a bedroom, neatly decorated, and instantly guess this must be his room. The room across from it is wide open and clean, only a couch and a tv placed in the corner for now, and some moving boxes shoved out of the way under the large window.

You move on to the next door to find a smaller little corner room, and look around to see even more moving stuff, closets not yet set up, a dismantled gaming desk, buckets of cables, the works. His home improvement gear and dumbbells are all strewn across the floor too. And at the end of the room, there’s another smaller little door, that you yank open for a broom closet, or maybe a small corner with a washing machine.

You hear Kuroo call your name from in the house. “Where are you?”

Everything stops.

Just that the air goes so cold you can barely feel your hands, or your face. Blood seeps from rags tossed into the old, mechanical sink, and a thick smell of iron and rot meets your nose. And sticky blood everywhere, on the floors, splattered on the wall, coating wooden furniture. There’s something that vaguely resembles a lower half, blood seeping from the holes in the almost-plastic like flesh. And her. The small room has no light, but you can recognize a human person when you need to.

The figure has her legs folded to fit the small space, eyes red and irritated and glazed with almost milky tears, and the side of her face has a gash from the top of her head down to her jaw deep enough to see bone. You stumble back and try not to gag, the nauseous feeling crawling down to your stomach and twisting. Her chest is still moving, but faintly, barely going up before it collapses with a stuttering, painful weeze. You want to sit down. You want to run. You want the horrible spinning in your head to stop. Her clothing is almost all ripped to shreds and stained dark blackish-brown, and with the way she’s positioned, you can also see… the raw, sticky, irritated mess that was left of her upper thighs.

“Oh my god,” you manage to whisper, before taking a deep breath and forcing your shaky legs to move towards her.

Your first instinct is to bend and grab at her face, trying to press on the wound; but the previously docile girl is quick to swing her arm and nick you with something sharp as she screams a horrible, animal-like squeal and slices your palm open. Dark blood sprays, you fall, the girl scrambles up over you. She doesn’t get far before she tumbles over with a gurgling, heart-bleeding noise, but gets to the door and starts dragging herself through the hall. You stare at your shaking palm in just as much shock, warm blood dripping down in thick drops from your wrist and fingers— but your legs carry you towards the noise anyway. You want to help. You want to help her, or she’ll die. Your blood is pounding against your skull. Everything else is blurred. Everything else is buzzing and vibrating with this awful noise of blaring anxiety.

You hear your name only vaguely, following down the dragged path of blood along the pristine wooden tiling, before you get to where she’s collapsed against the wall, and is breathing through the bubbling blood that spills from her mouth. There’s an awful, broken, pinched moan coming from her- like that of an animal that’s been left to the vultures. But you still put your hands under her arm and try to help her up, now starting to really feel the absolute searing pain of your hand with a pitched groan. It hurts. It hurts so much, and you’re so fucking shaky you’ve completely disoriented yourself. “It’s gonna be… oka—hngg,” you whine as your open wound moves around, you can feel it—

Suddenly, she pushes herself along on your body and tries to set off into another hobbled spurt, but is yanked back by her hair, before she’s shoved hard to the floor. She collapses into a sad heap, and a loud noise makes you jump. Her legs and arms fall limp instantly as the axe connects with a sickening noise, and blood splatters all over the room. It lifts again, dripping, and lands with a frightening amount of force— into the front of her head again.

The wet squelch doesn’t have anything over the crack of her skull and jaw being shattered, and the mess the red-coated axe makes of the lower half of her face, red blood and muck everywhere. You think you scream while you’re gagging— but you can’t hear it over the echo and the pounding and the terror. Your eyes are wide and bug-like as your legs give out and you drop back onto your ass, and the scene makes a big, round pool of blood on the floor.

“Shit,” he sighs out of breath, heaving over and resting his hands on his knees, “I forgot she was in there.” A soft sigh, and a dry chuckle. “Fuck.”

Your joints are locked, and your face is wet and hot and you’re sucking in more air than you can handle, as Kuroo— your Kuroo— straightens up, and looks around the room for you. He spots the gash in your hand first, because his relief just as quickly snaps into an expression of pure disgust as he looks at the heap of flesh and blood before him, her legs strewn wide open and battered body sadly left before him. And spits on it, kicking hard against her hip and sending the remains of her rolling onto the plush carpet. “Fucking bitch.” He lets the handle drop with a wooden clang, and rubs his face though. “Come here, baby, let me take a look.”

Your gasping isn’t enough to get him away from you, but you’re physically unable to do anything but lay there in terror, grasping your palm against the pain. Even with the threat of death kneeling before you, you can’t do more than sputter through your tears, vision completely wobbly and blurry. His gentle smile isn’t lost on you though, and you take a deep, wheezed breath. “You… you-y- ng-you—”

“Hey, hey, I’m doing this for you, okay? In all this time, I haven’t hurt you once. I haven’t hurt you once, have I? This is so I don’t hurt you, baby,” he says it all so casually, like anything he’s saying is making any sense at all; with his cheek red with splatters of blood, and his eyes a dark, dark pupil taking over the normally light irises. “It’s because I love you, you know that.” There’s so much on your mind. Your parents, Kenma, your memories— all of it makes a thick wrecking ball that slams into you so hard it knocks the air out of you.

It was him. All of them.

All those years… it was… You’re gonna puke. You can’t get enough air into your lungs to, or speak, or scream. You don’t want to die. You’ve spent your entire childhood afraid of a shadow around the corner, even though he was— Tetsuro puts his hands under your arms to pull you up from the floor in one fell swoop and places you on the couch, walking straight past the girl he brutalized to stare at your quivering lips and teary eyes, before taking a deep, long breath.

And though he smiles, there’s no gentleness there. None of the things you found so attractive about him just mere minutes ago. It’s nauseating, a vile, bitter feeling that makes your tongue feel like lead. “I feel this hunger towards you, you know,” he explains, gripping your hurt hand in his to inspect the flesh wound some more. “It’s, it’s really intense— and- and I don’t really know what to do with myself when I’m around you.” He leans in, long lashes basically brushing yours as he hovers his mouth over yours. “It’s not gonna be you though, ever. I swear, I’ll make sure of it. I just… want you so bad.”

His pink tongue swipes over his lips to get rid of the drying blood, before he pushes a soft kiss to your lips. “I want you.” When you don’t respond, his mouth crashes to yours, laying you down under him and letting his hand slide along your side as his tongue meets yours and he lets out a long moan into your mouth. “Oh, fuck. You get me so hard so quick.” His tongue is glad to claim anything it can take, even though you’re not moving, and huffing terrified whimpers into his mouth— it’s like it barely even registers.

He nudges your face up to his to kiss you messily, then down your neck as if following the trail of your tears, and to your collarbones. He props you up to hold your limp body against himself, and rolls his hips into you with a soft groan. “S-shit, good- g-girl. You feel me?” You do. His cock, even pressed against you through layers of clothing, is hard and swollen as he pushes his hips into you with needy motions, kisses along your ear, sucking marks into your throat. It rubs your pussy through your leggings, and makes your puffy cunt feel warm. It’s sickening that it seems to act completely without your doing— because you don’t want this.

If you could do any more right now than lay there and take it, you’d be clawing out of the window the second you could. Whatever fight it takes. But you’re frozen in miserable fear and your treacherous pussy is taking his rolling hips like it’s good enough. The press of his cock, and then his fingers over your pelvic area is too much, soft presses against the top of your slit exchanged for harder, direct touches as he thumbs at your clit. He knows what he’s doing, kissing your lips with softer, lazier kisses as he’s got you in his arms. “My sweet, little girl, you’re so fucking pretty. I’ll make you cum so hard you stop worrying.” He picks at the band of your pants, before slipping it over the curve of your ass and pulling them, and your underwear halfway down your legs.

There’s a cheeky smile on his lips as he pulls back to watch you, and groans long and hard at the sight of you. “You want my mouth or my cock?” He pulls your pussy open to rub the glossy wetness around, and grinds his cock against the inside of your push thighs a few more times, before breathing out your name. “You want to come on Tetsuro nii’s cock?” Your head hurts, and the way he spits on your pussy and rubs your clit up and down is so filthy and distracting you can barely take it.

“Tetsu-t-suro,” you manage to breathe out just a desperate whimper, but it has him groaning and gripping his cock through his slacks, then quickly shuffling them off down his thick thighs.

“I know, baby, I’ve got you. Gonna eat you out after, okay?” He pumps his heavy cock a few times up, before pressing the head to your warm hole. The head is so hot and spongy, and he rubs it down your slit and back up with almost scary patience. Because his eyes are wild and anything but patient, as he leans down to grab your cheeks and plant another kiss on you. “You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted you. This is the best day of my fucking life, baby.”

Then he pushes himself up on your tits and squeezes them, rubbing your nipples between his fingers through your shirt. Lines himself up with a few smooth flicks of his swollen cockhead on your sensitive nub, and pushes in with a long grunt. “Oh, fuck me. That’s a— fucking tight little pussy.” He pushes his large cock all the way inside as he bites his bottom lip and one hand comes down to dig his fingertips into your ass, pulling you as far onto him as possible. The stretch aches, burns a little as he mumbles out your name— before pulling back and shoving himself back into the hot clutch of your belly. “Gonna fuck you until you beg me. Until you can’t cum anymore.”

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wyrmfedgrave · 2 months

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Pics: Inspiring HPL.

1. Irvin S. Cobb - American writer, editor, humorist & columnist hailing from Paducah, Kentucky¹.

He was the highest paid staff reporter on the NY World newspaper².

Irvin would write 60+ books & around 300 short stories.

Some of which were adapted into silent movies. And, 2 of his later tales were actually filmed, by the famed John Ford³, during the 1930s!

2. Cobb's "dark side" (horror works) of the otherwise lighthearted comedian & the story in question.

3 & 4. Comedic frontpieces(?) for books by Cobb. The 2nd even boasts an Abraham Lincoln quote!

5. Cover to Cobb's collection of other authors's short horror tales.

6. Inside art from Fishhead's ending...

1913 Addendum -

Intro: Irvin Cobb's infamous short story "Fishhead" is set in the back- wood bayous of the vast Reelfoot Lake⁴.

Plot: The tale concerns the murder of a local outcast freak by "poor whites."

With its surprise Jaws⁵-like ending, this gruesome work reminds readers of an issue of EC comics⁶!

Criticism: Lovecraft lauded Cobb for, "... Carrying on our (own) spectral tradition is the gifted... humorist, I.S. Cobb, whose works... contain some finely (made) weird (tales)."

Of the plot, Howard stated that, "Fish- head" (is) an early achievement, ... banefully effective in its portrayal of (an) unnatural... hybrid idiot & the strange fish of an isolated lake."

Lovecraft further opined, "It is (my firm) belief... that... few short stories of equal merit have been published anywhere (else)..."

Legacy: Cobb's "Fishhead" is seen as a major influence on Lovecraft's own "Shadow Over Innsmouth."

Robert M. Price⁷ noted that, "What (Howard) found revolting was the idea of interracial marriage (&) of different ethnicities mating, (thus) 'polluting' the (white? human?) gene pool."

Fishhead is supposedly "the son of a Negro father & a halfbreed Indian mother." It's never mentioned what her other half was from...

This is the same premise behind HPL's "The Shadow Over Innsmouth."

Except that Lovecraft calls them Deep Ones & has a whole city that's been 'turned'...

More when we get to this story...

Notes:

1. Paducah, as 1 out of 9 U.S. Creative Cities, is a haven for thinkers, artists & creators!

Architectural Digest recognizes this city's historic district as 1 of the most beautiful main streets in America.

There are 20 downtown blocks listed in the National Register of Historic Places!

Weird Shit: Paducah's nickname is "The Atomic City."

This was because it was once the U.S.'s only uranium plant, making atomic bombs for our Defense Department...

2. The NY World newspaper began (in 1860) as a leading voice for the US Democratic Party.

But, once under Joseph Pulitzer, it became a pioneer in "yellow journalism."

Catching readers's attention with sensational (sex, sport & scandal) news stories.

This raised their circulation past the 1 million mark!!

Best known for being among the 1st to publish daily comic strips.

They actually created "Hogan's Alley", "Everyday Movies", "Little Mary Mix- up" & "Joe Jinks!"

Merged with The NY Telegram in 1931.

Revived - online - in 2011 by Columbia U. But, hasn't had any new content since 2016...

3. John Ford was an American movie director who won Oscars for "The Informer", "The Grapes of Wrath", "How Green Was My Valley" & "The Quiet Man."

The best of his many Westerns are "The Searchers", "Stagecoach" & "My Darling Clementine."

4. Reelfoot Lake is a real lake best known for its shallowness - about 5½ feet on average.

It's located in western Tennessee &, strangely enough, no swimming is allowed there...

The lake is named after an 1800's Chickasaw warrior with a deformed leg...

Reelfoot Bayou, with its cypress trees, flows out of the lake to join the Obion River - which runs straight to the Mississippi.

5. "Jaws" is, of course, director Steven Spielberg's 1st international master- piece.

And it doesn't need any hype, from me, for you to see it again!

97% on Rotten Tomatoes!!

Enough said...

Make it so!

6. E.C. Comics was an American publisher specializing in horror, crime, dark fantasy & sci-fi comicbooks.

William Gaines printed mature tales of war, adventure, satire, etc...

Noted for its stories high quality, shock endings & progressive social awareness.

Among the themes that EC creators touched upon are: racial equality, anti- war sentiments, nuclear disarmament & even early environmentalism!

Sadly, official censorship forced EC to focus on its "Mad" magazine - which became it's greatest success!!

EC has just been revived, by Oni Press, on this past February of 2024!!

Good times guaranteed...

7. R.M. Price is an American biblical scholar, author & an authority on H.P. Lovecraft.

His works include: "Deconstructing Jesus", "The Reason Driven Life", "The New Lovecraftian Circle", "World War Cthulhu", "The Disciples of Cthulhu", "Arkham Detective Agency", "The Da Vinci Fraud", "The Apartheid State in Crisis" & more great stuff!!

Price was the editor of the greatly lamented Crypt of Cthulhu, Midnight Shambler & Eldritch Tales fanzines.

He even edited a whole series of Mythos anthologies for Chaosium.

Today, Price is editor of The Journal of Higher Criticism!

Busy little tentacle, ain't he...

#hpl bio #history #aside #inspiration #weird fiction

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godlygreta · 2 years

Text

MY FAVORITE PART

TITLE | my favorite part

the universe couldn’t keep us apart, why would it even try?

TROPE | friends to lovers

PAIRING | josh x f!reader

WORD COUNT | 4.9k+

WARNINGS | swearing, some angst, smut (18+ - minors dni ; unprotected sex, fingering, oral sex (m & f receiving)), josh being an absolute dumbass

AUTHOR’S NOTE | hellllloooooo everyone :) celebrating my shitty boss getting fired w some josh smut !! i’m actually able to write now and not feel drained as fuck from work all the time, so please bear with me as i start working on some things :) i love you all sm !!

Things never ended the way you wanted them to between you and Josh.

It was always a series of ‘almost’ with the two of you; almost kissing that one time, almost touching hands, almost being caught staring at one another (without the other person knowing, of course). You taught yourself the art of subtlety over the years, finding ways to watch him speak without anyone picking up on the meaning behind your careful eyes.

The first time the two of you almost became one was just before they left. Sam and Danny, freshly graduated, had just finished packing everything up for tour. You helped Josh pack the rest of his shirts in his suitcase, sitting on top of it so it would actually zip shut. The two of you giggled, talking about the different states they were performing in.

It didn’t settle in that they would be leaving until you had to pack their suitcases into the trunk of Karen’s car, setting them off for the airport. Jake, Danny and Sam had already settled into the car, saving the front seat for Josh, knowing how hard it was going to be to say goodbye to their mother. The three boys in the back were shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee. Sam already had his headphones in, sharing one of them with Danny.

You shut the trunk, looking over to Josh who leaned up against the back right tail light of the car. You gave him a soft, false smile. He opened his arms to you after pushing off the car. His arms wrapped around your shoulders, keeping you pressed tightly against him for the last time until they would come home again. You whisper into the cotton fabric of his t-shirt, “I’m gonna miss you.”

“I know, I’m gonna miss you, too.” You try to keep the tears at bay, at least until they drove far enough away that they wouldn’t see you cry. You kept your hands on his hips as he pulled away, hands on your cheeks. Your eyes, glossed over, look from his own glossy ones to his lips, to his cheekbones, to the familiar scar you could never tear your eyes away from.

You think this is it – the moment he finally kisses you and all of the pent up love and admiration for him comes pouring out, right before he leaves. But it doesn’t. His lips instead touch your forehead, keeping his lips still against your skin for a couple seconds before pulling away. “I promise I’ll tell you everything about tour when I get back. Okay?”

“Okay. Please, stay safe. And text me when you land.”

“Will do. See you around, Junebug.”

He gets into the passenger seat of the car, looking back at you through the car’s side mirror. You take a deep breath, pulling your keys out of your right pocket, walking over to your car. You wipe your cheek with the back of your hand, feeling your nose beginning to run. You put the key into the ignition, hearing the car roar to life. You shifted the gear into reverse, backing up enough until you could put the car in drive.

The ride was quiet, the radio turned off and the only sound anyone could hear was the sound of your sniffles and the wind blowing through the windows of your car. You thought of going home, saving all of your tears for your pillowcase. Instead, you opted to go to the golf course just outside of Frankenmuth.

There was a serene little nook on the outskirts of the course, right next to the river. You and Josh had found it one day while attempting to indulge into Danny’s love of golfing. Sam was enjoying his time, also being ridiculous the whole time. Jake was enjoying it, mostly loving the golf cart ride, as well as the scenery. It was hard for you and Josh to enjoy the sport, getting bored while watching Danny set up his swing.

The two of you sat there almost all afternoon, talking about the most random things which were slightly induced by the marijuana coursing through your bloodstream. You broke sticks into smaller pieces, peeling the bark off of them while listening to Josh talk about his dreams for the album the boys were in the midst of making. You would have listened to him talk for hours about music alone.

The boys found you after they had gone through the eighteen holes, Josh texting Jake where they were in case they were worried. The three of them joined you eventually, Sam taking off his shoes and standing in the river while attempting to catch fish with his bare hands. The four of you watched him from the side of the riverbank, laughing as he inevitably failed.

You took off your shoes, putting your socks carefully inside of them so they wouldn’t get wet. You stuck your feet in, just to your ankles, letting the stream of the river flow over your skin. You let your tears go freely, although you laughed at yourself slightly. You felt like Bella when Edward had left her, although you weren’t screaming into a thicket of trees, falling asleep on the ground of the forest, atop a huge pile of pine needles.

You didn’t drive back home until the sun was well below the horizon, the moon peeking out in all her glory. You checked your phone, seeing if Josh had texted you yet, but there was nothing. The ride home was a bit louder, connecting your phone to your car, playing one of the many playlists you had. You didn’t listen to it really, mostly filled with songs you knew would fit the occasion of missing Josh.

And it did. It spoke volumes to you, tears slipping down your cheeks with ease. Your eyes hurt from all of your crying, nose red from running so much.

Your mother had stayed awake, waiting for you in the living room with a blanket wrapped around her. You slipped your shoes off by the door, looking over towards your mom. She looked at you with a sympathetic look, opening her arms for you to come and join her. You cuddled into her side, sniffling as you kept the tears at bay. “He’ll be home in no time, sweetie.”

“I know he will.”

The months that passed felt like years. The next morning after your mother consoled you, you woke up to a text from Josh. Landed and now safely in our hotel room. I miss you a lot, Junebug.

You texted him back, thanking him for telling you, wishing him a good first day of tour. You hadn’t heard anything from Josh much after that. You wrote it off as business, always on the go with no time to take a second for himself. You tried not to dwell too much on it.

When he finally came home, the two of you spent time tucked away in the back of a bar just outside of Frankenmuth. The two of you had a few between the two of you, watching him drink his cocktail. You tried a sip of his, tasting the gin on your tongue. You weren’t a fan, but you told him that it was a very Josh drink.

said the universe couldn’t keep us apart, why would it even try?

You listened to him talk about the tour, showing you some photos of the various sights he had seen. All of the photos were beautiful, some of them had the other boys in them. Some of them had their tour photographer in them, which stung a little bit. She was incredibly talented, and you knew from the fact that you had followed her on Instagram after she started posting photos of the boys. Josh was magnetic; although he was more fond of being behind the camera, it sure did love him.

His hand reached out for your own, which you had placed on his with your palm facing his. His thumb brushed the skin of your hand, smiling at you. You filled him in on the mundane things you did while he was gone, which was mostly just working and spending time with Karen once in a while – the two of you would get lunch on occasion.

“I love listening to you talk, Junebug.”

“Why? I don’t talk about anything as interesting as you do,” you chuckled, staring down at your hands. You looked at his thumb, staring at the nail that he had so obviously bitten down. “You’ve got these amazing stories, I just have boring shit to talk about.”

“It’s not boring if it involves you.” You looked up, looking at Josh watching you. You smiled at him, attempting to bite back the intensity of your smile.

You left it at that, keeping the conversation flowing by asking him if he had seen any new movies that he loved while on tour. He easily forgot the exchange, allowing the furious blush that had struck your body to subside.

The two of you were told it was almost closing time, looking down at your watch and noticing that it was already almost two in the morning. You set your glasses on the bar, walking towards the door. You kept it open for Josh, him whispering a quick ‘thank you’ to you. You were going to get a cab since the two of you had been drinking a bit, but Josh said that Jake was already on his way.

You sat in the backseat of Jake’s car, staring out the window while Jake drummed on the steering wheel. Josh talked to him about plans for a song they had been working on. The alcohol had taken its grip on you after hours, making your eyelids heavy. Josh had woken you from your sleep as soon as Jake had made it back to your place.

He walked you to your door to your apartment after opening the car door for you. You offered him a quick peek inside, to which he obliged. He noticed the picture frames scattered around the walls that held pictures of you and him from different years, some that included the rest of the Kiszka family, and some that were mostly of you and your family. “Do you mind if I spend the night? I’m a little sleepy, that car ride really made me tired.”

“As long as Jake knows you’re staying, I’m okay with it.” You shrugged, turning the corner to head towards your dresser. You came back out after a moment, offering Josh some clothes to change into. “I kept some of your stuff from when you stayed over all the time in high school. Figured it’d come in handy one day.”

“You’re so smart, Junebug.” His cheeks were tinted pink, flush from the alcohol. You handed them to him, his fingers brushing your own. You showed him where the bathroom was, patiently waiting for him to come out.

The plaid bottoms you had of his definitely belonged to Sam, waistband rolled a few times and enough to where they sat a little low on his hips. The grey drama club t-shirt was tight around his biceps, and part of you hoped the neckline wasn’t choking him. He looked amazing, you tried to keep your eyes anywhere else.

You offered him some water with a slight stutter, the water being a change in pace from the alcohol and a good way to cover up your stare. He welcomed the glass, thanking you for your hospitality. “I’m not really feeling as sleepy anymore.”

“I’m not either.” You admitted, your voice only audible for the two of you. It didn’t even reach the walls, though the conversation would stick to the paint and last a lifetime. You brought him back into your living room, sitting across from him on the couch.

“You know, you’ve only gotten more beautiful since the last time I saw you.” You blushed, eyes looking up at him. “I’m serious. You’ve always been breathtaking, but you’re just… so astonishing.”

“Thank you, Josh. You’re pretty beautiful too.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. I’ve always known you’re beautiful.” You put your glass down on your coffee table, hoping a water ring wouldn’t form in the morning, but you didn’t care too much about it at the moment. He followed suit, putting his down next to yours. His mouth moved, but no sound came out as he asked you to come over by him, opening his arms for you.

You laid against him, resting your head on his shoulder. One of his arms wrapped around your shoulder, reaching out for your hand. You interlaced your fingers, brushing against the back of his hand with your thumb. He smelled the same as he did when he left.

“You have no idea how much I missed you.” You brought his hand to your face, putting your lips against the skin of the back of his hand. You don’t tear up, or almost start to cry, but the weight in the middle of your chest begins to get heavy. “I hated being without you.”

“I hated being without you, too, mama.” He pressed a kiss into your hair.

You turned your head towards him, seeing his painful stare mimic your own. The weight had become lighter, settling down between the two of you, a flame ignited by a small spark. You looked from his brown eyes, to his pink lips. He moved forwards a bit, testing out the waters between the two of you. It was you, though, who bridged the gap.

His lips were even softer than you thought they would be. The brush of his thumb against the corner of your jaw was gentle, more so keeping you as close to him as you could comfortably be. With the hand that wasn’t holding Josh’s, you cupped his cheek, your thumb against his sideburns. In a swift motion, his tongue against your bottom lip, you open your mouth up for him.

His hand let go of yours, traveling to your back. You adjusted yourself with the help of Josh, hips connecting with his as you straddled his lap. His hands slipped under your shirt, feeling over your soft skin. It wasn’t the first time he had touched your back, but it was under a plethora of new circumstances now. He kept you incredibly close to him, hands not getting enough of you.

You moaned lightly against his lips as he dragged his nails down your back, although it was more so the tips of his fingers due to his chronic nail biting habit. You unintentionally push your hips against his, hearing him suck in a breath. His hands went to your hips, stalling them in their movements. His lips pull from your own, though they still brushed against your own. “I don’t think the couch is the right place for this.”

You slid off of his lap, putting your feet onto your carpet. You waited for Josh to stand next to you, hand grabbing yours. “Take me to bed, mama.”

Your sheets were more comfortable now than they had ever been before. Part of that was due to the fact that Josh, the boy who you had always been in love with, was settled between them with you, touching you in ways you had never been touched before.

His touch burned against your skin, making the shedding of your clothes easy, smooth. His lips brushed over every inch of skin that was newly uncovered, thinking to himself how he had gone so long without doing this before. He was addicted to the feeling of your skin against his own.

Your nails against his scalp egged him on, looking for permission deep within the pleasure contorted look that your eyes gave him. His hands were careful as they peeled your underwear down your legs, lips staying just below your navel. Just as the fabric touched your knees, his lips moved, kissing over the tops of your thighs. You let out a shaky breath, nerves dissipating into excitement.

The first stroke of his tongue took you by surprise, making a gasp tip over your lips. You kept your eyes on him, watching him as he focused on pleasuring you. With his arms hooked around your thighs, keeping you exactly where you were, one of your hands stayed between the curls of his hair, the other fisting into the sheets beside you.

His fingers danced up the inside of your thigh, inching closer and closer to your warm cunt. You gasped as his finger danced around your hole, mouth latched around your clit. He circled around it, teasing you, “Hmm, fuck, Josh.”

He’s amused by your moan, the way your back arches off of your mattress. He watches the way your body dances as he introduces his finger inside of you. He times his movement just right, curling his fingers as his knuckles brush against your skin, your hips moving against his hand. He’s doing most of the work, but your hips help him just that little bit extra.

He gets off on watching you, grinding his own hips into the mattress to help soothe the painfully hard erection he has concealed by the pajama pants. He moans into your skin, sending a wave of vibrations through you. His pink cheeks mirror your own.

“P…Please, Josh, right there. Just like that, fuck,” you pant, throwing your head back into your pillows. His tongue and fingers methodically deliver you to the doorstep of your orgasm. He keeps his pace steady, never treading from the pace he had already set. The closer you got to falling over the edge, the harder you gripped onto his hair. “Fuck,” you mewl, “I’m so close.”

He watched as your hips faltered in their movement, rigidly grinding against his face. Your soft whimpers can barely be heard, but the sound is music to his ears. His pace begins to slow, allowing you to return to Earth, letting your orgasm fizzle out and wash over you.

He kissed the inside of your thigh, soft and gentle until he removed his fingers from inside of you. You watched him as he wrapped his lips around them, obscenely licking the cum off of his fingers. You hummed, running your hand through his curls. The second he’s done, you pull him back up towards you to reconnect his lips with your own.

“Please, mama,” he spoke against your lips. “Lemme fuck you.”

You chuckled slightly, amused by the fact that this was actually going to happen. You were going to let Josh Kiszka fuck you any way that you wanted him to.

With his forehead rested against yours, his pace was slow and deliberate. He sat himself inside of you for a few moments, making sure to collect himself completely before moving his hips. His praises were barely audible, but the ones you did catch made your walls flutter around him. “You’re such a good girl, fuck, doin’ so good f’me.”

Your hands found their way to his back, nails creating crescent shapes that adorned his shoulder blades. Red and angry marks made their way down his back when he hit that spot just right, the spot that made your back arch off of the bed. You begged him for more, you wanted more of him, and he delivered.

The sounds of your moans ricocheted off the walls, the smell of sex filling the air around the two of you. It was hard to keep yourself quiet, opting to bite the skin of his shoulder so you wouldn’t be as loud. His whimpers and whines were kept inside the crook of your neck, making goosebumps run along your skin. “Where do you want me to cum, sweet girl?”

“Mhm, wanna taste you in my mouth.” You whispered into his ear, feeling him melt above you. He made sure to bring you to your peak first, watching as your face twisted, feeling as your cunt spasmed around his cock. He kept kissing your shoulder, all the way up to your ear. His praises were going to stay with you for as long as you lived.

He pulled out of you as soon as your hips calmed, stroking himself. You made him lay down, taking him in your hand the second his back hit the mattress. He was coated in your slick, which acted as a good lubricant. Your eyes looked to his, watching you as you let a line of spit fall from your mouth right onto the head of his cock. He groaned, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back into the pillows.

You took him into your mouth, bobbing your head up and down. You gagged slightly as his hips met your mouth, nose brushing against the little amount of pubic hair he had. His hand laced through your hair, but didn’t push you down onto him. His thumb ran softly over your scalp. His whines came out quickly, interrupted by a slew of curse words.

You swallowed all of him when he finally came into your mouth, making sure to swallow every last drop he gave you. His hand fell from your hair, grabbing your chin. His thumb touched the skin of your bottom lip, pulling it down slightly before it fell onto your chin. “Hmm, you’re so pretty.”

“I could say the same thing about you, Josh.”

You smile at him, joining him in laying down. The two of you settle beneath the covers of your bed, falling easily next to him. He kept an arm around you, your back pressed against his chest. He kissed the back of your neck, humming as he hugged you against him.

When you woke up in the morning, you felt the spot next to you, feeling that it was empty. You got confused, looking around your room for Josh’s clothes. You didn’t find anything, only a piece of paper left on your nightstand with Josh’s slightly messy handwriting next to a little Starbucks bag with a chocolate danish inside.

Hi, Junebug

I’m sorry I had to leave. I promise I won’t go that long without texting you ever again. Enjoy the Starbucks for breakfast. Your favorite iced vanilla latte is in your fridge. See you.

Josh.

You smiled at the note, but it faltered with the first sentence. You didn’t know why Josh had left, but figured it had something to do with touring. You weren’t even sure how long he was going to be home in the first place, but you had hoped it would be longer than one night.

When he didn’t text you the two weeks that followed, you didn’t think he ever would. Maybe he only would ever text you when he was home. Jake texted you, though. He had asked you if you planned on coming to the Grand Rapids show, to which you responded that you didn’t even realize that they were back in Michigan.

Jake was just as confused as you were, telling you that Josh was supposed to send you a pass in the mail, making sure that you could come backstage before and after the shows. You bit at the skin on the inside of your cheek, watching the bubbles appear on your screen. They disappeared after a moment, with no text bubble at all.

You went about your days, going to work and making sure that your chores were done. You pushed yourself to do laundry, especially washing the sheets and the pillowcase that still smelled faintly of Josh. You shook your head as you put them into the washer, feeling silly that you were slightly upset.

The day of the show came faster than you expected it to.

Jake texted you, letting you know that the offer still stood. You had gotten the pass in the mail a few days before. You kept it behind the bowl of apples, oranges, and bananas that sat in your living room. You let the text be left on read, locking your phone.

You didn’t end up going, though it took everything in you not to drive the two hours it would take from Frankenmuth to Grand Rapids. Your keys mocked you as they sat on your countertop, taunting whispers coming from the inanimate object.

You kept your book in your lap, reading through the pages. The storyline of two lovers kept your mind distracted. The only time you put it down was to turn on the lights in the living room, so you could keep reading. A flash of lightning, the sound of thunder boomed through the room. You watched the rain fall for a moment.

It was a little past midnight when you put the book down, the sound of a knock at the door brought you out of your daze. You unlocked it, opening the door to a soaking wet Josh standing on the little mat in front of your door that read ‘welcome’ in cursive; a little gift from your mother when you first got your apartment.

“Hi,” he spoke, rain falling from his hair, down his face.

“Hi.”

“Can I come in?” He asked, his right shoulder moving upwards slightly.

“I don’t know if I want to let you in. You said you would text me, and you didn’t.” Thunder filled the gaps in your conversation.

before things come together, they have to fall apart

“I know. I’m sorry,” he itched the back of his neck. “I… I got scared, if I’m honest.” You looked him up and down before letting him into your apartment. You told him to stay there, grabbing him a towel and a fresh change of clothes.

He knew where the bathroom was, keeping his wet shoes and socks by the door. He walked through your apartment, navigating himself to the bathroom. You leaned against the counter in the kitchen, arms crossed and sat just beneath your breasts.

He came back out, scanning the room until he found you. “I’m sorry it’s so late.”

“You didn’t wake me.” You said quietly.

“I… I know I’ve been shitty to you, and I want to apologize and explain myself, if you’re willing to listen. You can say no and send me on my way.” You sigh, thinking it over. You nod, allowing him to continue.

He breathes out first, collecting himself. “When I left, I spent most of that morning just watching you sleep. And you looked so peaceful, I never wanted to leave that bed of yours. I DoorDashed some Starbucks over and wrote you that note because I knew that if I didn’t leave before you woke up, I would stay in your bed forever.”

You didn’t understand where this was going, “It scared me because I’ve never felt that way about anyone before. Nobody’s ever been as important to me as you are. And then, like a dumbass, I didn’t text you because I didn’t want you to have to deal with me leaving all the time. Leaving home is so much easier when I’m telling myself that we’re just friends, and that I don’t have feelings for you.”

“That’s not your decision to make, Josh,” your nails dug into the skin of your arm, trying to keep yourself from yelling at him entirely.

“I know, but I didn’t know if you felt the same way about me as I do you, so to me it was just easier to leave things as they were. When Jake said he texted you about the pass, I felt like shit. I felt so guilty not sending it to you personally, but Jake said he’d take care of it and send you one instead.”

He gulped audibly, “But playing our show tonight, not seeing you in the crowd or getting a visit from you before the show… it made me realize that I’m a huge fucking dumbass. I…I love you, so fucking much. I can’t spend the rest of my life without you. If you don’t want anything to do with me, I’ll deal with it, same as if you just want to be friends. I’m so sorry, and I wish I could change the way I treated you.”

You took a second, letting his words truly sink underneath your skin, ruminating around in your brain. “You’re right. You are a colossal dumbass, Josh. Not talking to me made me feel like shit, especially since you slept with me and just left. And then nothing, no texts, no calls, no FaceTimes – you went completely radio silent. Again.”

He averted his eyes, guilt bubbling up in his gut. “I can forgive you, but it’s gonna take a lot more than showing up at my doorstep, soaking wet, in the middle of the night for me to just decide to be with you.”

“Thank you for forgiving me. Jake’s outside waiting for me, so I’ll just… go and come back in the morning? Maybe take you out for breakfast this time instead of leaving you with it.” He asked, seeing if that was alright with you.

“I would love to have breakfast with you. Be here at eight. If you’re late–”

“I won’t be. I’ll see you at eight am tomorrow,” he walked closer to you, extending out his hand for you to shake. You kept your lips together as you smiled at him, shaking his hand. “Goodnight, Junebug.”

“Goodnight, Josh.”

if you wanna stay, we’re taking it slow, baby

taglist

forever

@cal-a-bungaa @joshysgf @screechesincoherently @weightofdreams-gvf @sarakay-gvf @ooswws-gvf @lupinevanfleet @kayle-e @gvfrry @stardustdanny @theweightofstardust @katie-gvf @stardustingold @astro-place @idk-maddie @depressingdarlin @greta-flanveet @highladyofasgard @bumblebeeswrite @ageofthepeacefularmy @bypeapod @kiszkathecook @flower-power-anthem @fleetsonfire @caravelstan @cowboysamkiszka @gretavanfleas @sparrowofthedawn @mywaygvf @ghostly-luck @kayleea122 @seventieswhore @v3ggiestraw-luvr @fatefellshortthistime @the-chaotic-cow @hayley1623 @everyglow @s-u-t @sammiejane22 @myownparadise96 @saoirsemaeve

specifically josh

@jakiszka @jakekiszska @prophetofthedune

#josh kiszka x reader #josh kiszka fanfic #josh kiszka smut #josh kiszka imagine #via writes josh #godlygreta writes josh #josh gvf smut #josh gvf

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kuwdora · 9 months

Text

WIP Sunday Snippet... from the vilgefortz wankery. This snippet remains in my discard pile because how many paintings is too many to be referencing in this fic? I think I'm up to 5 or 6 at this point. I might put it back in though...we'll see. Soooo... Geralt and Vilgefortz are in a wing of the gallery that features some of the more critical artwork.

Sunday Afternoon on The River of Alabaster Bridges depicted a rotting corpse of a dragon floating belly up in the middle of the Pontar. Peasants in the foreground went about their harvesting, scythes in their hands while a small child played naked in the shallows. A small rowboat with two lovers were mid-river, hands joined in a moment of quiet intimacy and indifferent to the decay beside them. The brushstrokes of the water were inelegant, and the usual gleaming color of the river was polluted by the fetid body. The human figures were painted in a dull grey in contrast of the dragon whose golden scales were melting off its body in the heat of the sun. A mage in a deep red cloak stood at the corner of the painting, holding a magnifying glass up to a melted scale he had fished out of the water.

It was the work of Hugo Bluewythe, the only gnomish artist whose work was featured at Aretuza. Born to a Mahakham family, he was a successful metallurgist, had local fame and a family who was proud to call him one of their own. After several decades of monotony, he grew tired of embellishing weapons that he knew would be used to kill. So he picked up a paintbrush instead. His customers and family were unhappy with this change in vocation because he dared to express his vision by other means. But he didn’t allow their criticisms to get in his way and he became quite renowned for his work depicting humanity’s indifference to non-human suffering.

Vilgefortz watched Geralt frown at the painting.

Anyway, this is 100% a riff on Pieter Bruegel's Landscape with the Fall of Icarus and Auden's poem about the painting.

Musée des Beaux Arts By W. H. Auden

December 1938 About suffering they were never wrong, The Old Masters: how well they understood Its human position; how it takes place While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along

How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting For the miraculous birth, there always must be Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating On a pond at the edge of the wood: They never forgot That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot Where the dogs go on with their doggy life and the torturer's horse Scratches its innocent behind on a tree.

In Brueghel's Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry, But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky Had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.

#vilgywank #my witcher wips #there is actual fucking in this fic #there's also just a lot of art history and political and moral philosophy too. okay. TWN did not have enough of that.#vilgefortz of roggeveen #geralt x vilgefortz

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thedivaking · 2 years

Text

"—It is when they are children that they show you their hearts and who they are to become.

Away from the demands and duties of a king, Thranduil’s free time was most spent with Legolas through quiet evenings of reading, song, or ventures into the woods to learn of the life that surrounded them. From the very leaves of the trees to the running river of the forest glen, Thranduil taught the Prince to admire all life. Everything which dwelt within their realm was to be cherished, whether it whispered in the wind or fed their kin.

“Ada! Ada! N’aras pin! Na baran aras pin!” (Father! Father! A little deer! A brown little deer!) Legolas’ tiny voice was full of excitement at the sight of the timid fawn as it wobbled behind its mother, hiding away from the noisy “baby” elf.

“Shh. Calmly, ion nin. Quietly. It is small. Just like you.” Thranduil’s voice was soothing and quiet as he looked upon the doe with a respect that had been founded over months of patience, trial and error. “You must approach it with care.”

If not for the pair of deer having recently been cared for in the stables, Thranduil would have forbade it. And full of determination, Little Green Leaf agreed to carefully approach, and tip-toed forward.

“Tolo si, aras pin. Tolo si.” He gently called to the fawn, slowly inching towards the pair with a small hand extended. “Come here, little deer. Tolo.”

In turn, Thranduil fanned out a comforting hand upon the round of the doe’s leg to ease her as his son approached hers. Legolas’ little fingers brushed over its barrow as gentle as a child’s touch could. "Can I name him? Len iallon, Ada?"

Reluctantly, the King nodded, if only to see the brightness in his son's eyes and the tenderness in his young being.

"Maer, aras. Maer." (Good, deer. Good.) With each pat, Legolas' and the fawn's closeness grew. "I will call you, Araspin. Araspin nin. My Little Deer." And, grew.

Although Thranduil tried to keep Legolas from forming bonds with the woodland animals, as their lives were far too short and the Elves of Mirkwood were pristine hunters - which would only serve to break his young spirit - the Prince’s heart was too full and his empathy too great. This was an inevitable and painful cycle for an Elf child. One that left a mark so deep upon his heart, Legolas briefly stopped naming them.

Art Credit: Cudzinec @ deviantart

#drabble #little legolas #little green leaf #thranduil #thrandaddy #the hobbit #my sindarin is shxt

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mandowh0re · 1 year

Text

Come Back To Me

Prologue

Pairing: Merperson! Tony Stark x Steve Rogers

Summary: Steve leaves Tony behind to go fight in the war, and doesn’t come back… Until 65 years later.

Warnings: Allusions to sex, mentions of death, angst with a happy ending (eventually)

Word Count: 750

A/N: Soooo. Yeah. This is a result of this art I saw on twitter belonging to @capnstars ! I literally had to. And it’s longer than I originally said it would be, with more chapters on the way. I have no self control. Obviously. This takes place in 2010, and I do plan on adding more background that will obviously be completely different from the actual MCU timeline.

p.s. if anyone would be willing to make a mood board for this so i can replace this random pic i would love u bc i SUCKKK at moodboards LMAO

Happy reading!

Prologue / Part 1

Steve leans against the large oak tree that borders the bank of the river. He’s waiting for Tony. Today’s their day. This is their spot.

He taps his foot, trying ti ignore the knots in his stomach. He feels sick, like he’s about to do something horrible. And maybe he is, but he won’t talk himself out of it. He can’t.

He’s thrumming his fingers on his thigh when he gets splashed with water. He looks over and sees Tony with his arms holding onto a boulder embedded into the bank, his tail thwipping in the water. Steve recognizes the movement as excitement.

“What’s distracting you?” Tony asks, a grin gracing his features.

And for a moment, just one moment, Steve considers calling it off.

But he can’t. He has to do this. He promised, and a lot of people are counting on him.

“I’m being deployed.” He blurts, cutting right to the chase.

Tony’s face falls, an unreadable expression on his face. He’s quiet for several moments, and Steve can’t really take it, “Tony-”

“That’s not funny.”

“It’s not a joke.”

“You can’t even swim without losing your breath-”

“I know-”

“You can’t walk more than a mile!”

“I know-”

“You can’t-”

“I know!” Steve shouts, louder than he meant to. Tony looks surprised at the outburst and Steve takes a few deep breaths before explaining, “I was recruited by a doctor. They’re going to inject me with this… Serum. It’s supposed to make me bigger, stronger. It’s supposed to make me… Not sick. I could help them. I can help win the war, Tony.”

Steve can read Tony’s expression now. It’s terrified, like when Tony first witnessed one of Steve’s asthma attacks. He hates seeing the man he loves anything but happy.

“How?” Is all Tony asks.

Steve shrugs, “I don’t know.”

“You’re letting them do an experiment on you that you don’t even understand??”

“I trust them, plus I wouldn’t understand it if I tried. It’s advanced.”

“Steve-“

“I’m not changing my mind, Tony.”

And Tony knows this. He knows how hard headed Steve is. How self sacrificial and selfless he is. It’s fucking infuriating at times.

Most of the time, actually.

In any case, he knows Steve won’t change his mind.

“Promise you’ll come back, at least.”

“I can’t promise tha-“

“Promise, Steve!” Tony bites, holding back tears. He feels like his heart might shatter with the slightest breeze.

Steve takes a few breaths before sitting on the ground in front of Tony. He runs a hand through his wet hair before hooking a finger under Tony’s chin, making him look at Steve.

“Okay. I promise I will come back to you.”

It’s quiet again for a while before Tony speaks again.

“How long do you have?”

“I leave in the morning.”

“Then I need you to kiss me now.”

****

Tony never sees Steve again. He shows up at their spot at the same time every day, hoping that today will be the day Steve surprises him.

But he never does.

A year and a half goes by when a beautiful woman shows up while Tony is waiting. He quickly hides, but she calls out for him, saying Steve sent her.

When she approaches, she does her best to school her features. She’s never seen a mer person, after all. But Steve sent her here because he trusted her. Because he couldn’t get himself killed without letting Tony know he loved him.

She tells Tony everything. Well, everything that’s not classified. She tells him about Steve’s being used as propaganda, Steve deciding he’s had enough and running headfirst into danger to save Bucky, then leading multiple missions in the war before the very last one that got him killed. She tells Tony that he saved the world.

Then she gives him Steve’s dog tags.

“We never found a… Well we never found him. But before everything happened he left his tags with me, wanted you to have them. I guess in a way he knew he might…”

Tony’s hand shakes as he takes the metal chain from her. He can’t even look her in the eyes. There’s a large tears running down his cheeks, even though he’s completely silent.

She apologizes, and leaves a weather proof box with a device that Tony can hide and use in case there’s an emergency and she’s needed. But then she leaves to let Tony grieve.

Tony holds onto the chain like a lifeline as he drowns in his sorrow.

***

Permanent Taglist: @yes-iamironman-blog @paradoxicalblueberry (WHERE DID U GO??) @the-regal-warrior @transparentparadiseglitterzombie @my-leg-is-not-a-chew-toy @lyricalstella-blog @just-the-daydreamer @poptartpoppyy

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sylvia-forest · 2 years

Text

Spoilers from Shaw's New Company Projects

⚡Spoilers under the cut~

As night falls, the whole city has gradually fallen into a deep sleep, only the neon lights on the streets are shining tirelessly.

After a four-hour drive, we finally caught up with the opening of the black market tonight.

I parked the car by the river and walked down with Shaw.

In order to get in, we both dressed up in disguise. At this moment, the thin dresses on our bodies couldn't resist the cold night wind at all. I couldn't help rubbing my arms.

MC: hiss… Is the black market here?

I looked at the dimly lit building in front of me, a little unsure.

MC: But isn't this an art gallery?

Shaw: Which black market would brazenly state that they're a black market?

Shaw stretched out his suit jacket, and it seemed that he was not very comfortable with such formal clothes.

He glanced sideways at me and clicked his tongue.

Shaw: Where are your earrings?

MC: Because it felt a bit exaggerated, so I took them off.

Shaw: Put it on, you can't fall off your outfit when you go to a place like this.

Shaw took out the jewelry box from my bag and motioned me to tilt my head.

MC: Are you going to help me wear it?

Shaw: What else?

Shaw leaned over, his fingers touching my ears. *He personally put on the earrings for her, screams!!!*

His movements were very careful, and I could only feel the tickling sensation, and the metal had already passed through the ear hole.

MC: Done?

Shaw: Yeah.

I don't know if it was my illusion, Shaw's fingertips seemed to stay on my earlobe for a second before letting go. *I've a hunch that he personally bought these earrings for her, just my guess!*

With the fake identity that Shaw brought up, we successfully entered the art gallery.

Unexpectedly, the building which was dark and quiet from the outside, was a totally different place from the inside.

In the brightly lit hall, many men and women in costumes were walking and talking, and everyone held a copy of today's "commodity book" in their hands.

If you fancy something, there will be a waiter who will take other boxes to discuss with the seller in detail.

I quietly flipped through and finally saw the "Turquoise Painting" at the end of the booklet

Unexpectedly, the waiter looked embarrassed after seeing the "Turquoise Painting".

Waiter: I'm sorry, a buyer had also taken a fancy to this painting. I've already gone to discuss it with the seller. Would you like to take a look at something else, miss?

Once this painting was bought by an anonymous buyer, trying to find it again would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.

MC: IWe don’t want anything else~ I don’t know other pieces of art, but I’ve seen this “Turqoise Painting”. I like this one!

Shaw's expression became a little subtle the moment he heard me holding my throat, he barely held back his smile and cleared his throat.

Shaw: It's okay, darling~ I will pluck out all the stars and moon from the sky for you. *screaming intensifies, he literally said that! And his voice OMG!!*

Shaw: And you. Don’t try any “first come first served” tricks with me.

Shaw: Go to the seller now and tell him that someone is exchanging "Mrs. Dusheng Flower Hairpin Painting" for his "Turquoise Painting", will he do it?

The waiter's expression changed drastically when he heard “Mrs. Dusheng's Flower Hairpin”, he immediately nodded, turned around and hurried towards the box.

After a while, we saw him running towards us with a happy expression on his face.

Waiter: Sir, ma'am, the seller invites you to come over for a cup of tea.

Shaw: Very good. Remember that I want the high quality Pu’er tea.

—

#My eyes are blessed (・∀・)#These two are at it again!#PG just seriously make them a couple already!!! Just look at these lovey-dovey interactions between them ಡ ͜ ʖ ಡ #mlqc translations #mr love queen's choice #mlqc ling xiao #love and producer #mlqc season 2 #mlqc #mlqc shaw #mlqc spoilers #mlqc cn

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razzle-zazzle · 1 year

Note

What do you think Gisu's home life is like? Do you think she lives with parents? Has siblings? Rich? Middle class or anything else? Popular in the school she went to? (Also plz feel free to explain how Gisu is different in each of your Au's.)

Gisu has both the vibes of a younger sibling and an only child—so my take is that she has an older sister who is much older than her; like, say, 8-10 years older.

I think Gisu and the other junior agents still reside in dorms in the Motherlobe, but they probably do get breaks during which they can go home and visit their parents. I'd peg Gisu as somewhere middle class, though that's a more tentative headcanon.

As for how Gisu does in school...

I'm going to project a bit here, because Gisu strikes me as the kind of girl who's more than capable of getting good grades, but always has trouble with actually doing the work, especially if it doesn't interest her. Teachers always had the "she's very brilliant, but..." spiel to say about her on conference nights. Her best subjects were science and math.

And popularity? This is a weird one, because on the one hand, she comes off as someone who was reasonably well-liked by her peers. But she also has those "was considered weird by her peers" vibes. So my headcanon is that she had trouble making friends until middle school.

I'm going to put the rest of this ask under a cut because it's getting long.

Starting with the most obvious difference, Acrobat and the Spider Gisu is, well, a spider due to her curse. She's also 21, and more cynical than other iterations (relatively. She's still an idealist, even if the curse has worn her down a bit).

I haven't written out this part of the story in Pooter Pile, but RA3 runs off after the incident. Gisu's immediate reaction? "Alright, time for a field trip." And then she drags Dion off to go find him.

Rapids Gisu is very worried over the fact that Raz disappeared after she asked him to do the psychoseismometers. That his helmet was found in a river and his goggles on a bank upstream is a small comfort. Also all the drama going on between the Aquatos and the Psychonauts is very loud and stressful and she is. not having a good time.

Gisu is very impressed with River Runs Deep Frazie's trick of turning other people invisible! She and Frazie end up developing a cute little friendship.

Buried Beneath Gisu's a year older, and accompanies Raz in going into Arc's mind to unearth Dion. She's definitely incredibly resourceful, and being able to keep her balance on her levboard is key in that particular boss battle.

Gisu plays a pretty big role in Undead Acrobat! She's smacking Forces Beyond Mortal Understanding with the scientific method, lamenting the entire time that she's an engineer, this is not her area of expertise, why is she the one doing this, etc. She gets a nice little arc where she has to balance her own scientific curiosity with reason and ethics; just because she has a proven case of necromancy doesn't mean she should let that be public knowledge. The Deluginists were not the only dangerous group attempting to trifle with such arts.

Psynautica Gisu is the most ambitious Gisu! Also I'm changing it so that she doesn't dislike Dion for being Alterra's lapdog; she dislikes him at first meeting because she feels that the whole issue is overrated, and more importantly, he's incredibly quiet and distant towards Raz when picking him up from the summer camp, despite it being the first time they see each other in years.

#ask zaz #gisu nerumen #featuring me lowkey projecting my adhd onto gisu #i was lucky enough to get diagnosed early and i feel like gisu would be similar #acrobat and the spider au #pooter pile au #pn rapids au #the river runs deep au #buried beneath au #undead acrobat au #psynautica au #i skipped over aus where there's not much difference/i've already talked about gisu's role in them #also in naut dion's defense: summer camps are very loud and chaotic #so he put in an earbud to listen to ambient ocean audio bc it helps to calm him down #but at the same time. lowkey ignoring the brother you came to pick up #and unintentionally snubbing the assistant counselor who was waiting with him #isn't the greatest look

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incorrigibill · 2 years

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When I lived in Rome, I went to Cantiani’s every morning and sat at a small metal table along the street. I had an espresso lungo and a cornetto marmalade most mornings, though occasionally I would try other things. Many mornings, especially lately, I would say “uno altro,” one more, and have a second little espresso.

This routine and especially this place brought me peace. Or perhaps it was successful in not disturbing the peace I had when I arrived, usually at 7:30 or so. The staff, whose names I still do not know, are friendly with me—they smile, praise my attempts at learning their language, and go to great lengths sometimes to pronounce things for me. They know that I will order at the bar with the regulars, move out to a table with my notebook, write for a while, and will then be back domani.

They will not be intrusive, especially in the morning. Maybe they sense my ways, my purpose, my desire for quiet. Perhaps they simply have no interest in me at all and are grateful that I am not so demanding or fussy or trying to say too much. Regardless of all these musings, I am peaceful here. The emotional waves of the unsettled people in my life are not here. I cannot feel or sense them at all.

I look down the long street, Via Cola di Rienzo, lined with grand storefronts and dotted with little trees not much taller than apple or cherry trees, and it seems to stretch forever, though I know it runs into the Tiber. It flows. The river flows. The flow is what I love about this place.

When I lived in Rome, in the fall of 2022, I began writing again. No longer was I distracted with CMR or David. No longer was I devoting or diverting my flow to repairing and sustaining the spillages of others. Even when it was over, it wasn’t over for me. Not for a long time. Those diversions—the habits and expectations—were deeply grooved in my banks. They were anticipated and expected so frequently that even when they did not come, it was if they had. The energy had already been expended.

But when I lived in Rome, those things were overwhelmed by the newness of this place and the totality of its grip. A new language. A new apartment. A new neighborhood. A new job too, even if only a small one. And new friends. Together—and with a quarter-turn of the earth—those old habits gave way. The deep grooves which had been carved into me over the previous decade were smoothed quickly, like a freshly groomed run at Keystone, now untouched, waiting for me to carve something new.

When I lived in Rome, I was able to use the American Academy in Rome, a place I had never know before but was instantly drawn to. It is idyllic, an intellectual and physical oasis of sorts, a place for thinking and considering and pondering things amongst wonderful old books and shockingly soft pines. On my first day, I sat at a table dedicated to one if its past presidents, who was also a professor where I studied as an undergraduate. That linkage was a total surprise to me and also felt like a kind of providence, a continuation of a humble beginning that is still flowing.

When I was in Rome, I became even more fascinated with the importance of imagination, not just in the arts, but in the art of life itself. I thought deeply about origin stories and myths and put as much of me as I could into those ideas.

When I was in Rome, I felt the flow return and began carving deep grooves again, but this time they were my own.

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sunmarketing · 4 months

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Dr. Mary Travelbest - Fort Bragg CA

Today’s destination: Fort Bragg, California

Fort Bragg is nestled along the stunning Northern California coastline. Whether you drive along the scenic Pacific Coast Highway or opt for a flight, Fort Bragg welcomes you with its coastal charm.

Settle into the serenity of local inns and bed and breakfasts that grace Fort Bragg. Consider accommodations like an Airbnb, VBRO, or chain hotel nearby for a restful retreat with the soothing sounds of the nearby ocean.

Before venturing into the natural wonders surrounding Fort Bragg, stroll along Glass Beach, known for its sea glass treasures.

The Mendocino Coast Botanical Gardens offer a tranquil haven of blooming flora and breathtaking ocean views, providing a perfect introduction to the region's coastal beauty.

You can wear comfortable walking shoes and explore the scenic trails that hug the coastline. The Glass Beach Trail offers a gentle walk with panoramic ocean vistas. At the same time, the Mendocino Headlands State Park trail system provides more extensive options for those seeking a longer coastal adventure. Each step unveils the rugged beauty of the Northern California shore.

Solo coastal adventures require mindfulness of safety. Keep someone informed of your plans, have a fully charged phone, and be aware of tide schedules if venturing close to the shore. The local visitor center and park rangers are valuable resources for ensuring a secure and enjoyable solo exploration.

If it’s running, be sure to take the Skunk Train. It’s unforgettable. This 2-hour, 16-mile, round trip will take you over the Summit (elevation 1,740 feet), through Tunnel #2, and down into the Noyo River Canyon. The railbike experiences offer an entirely new way to see the redwoods.

https://www.skunktrain.com/

Fort Bragg's coastal community is known for its warmth. Engage with locals at the charming shops and eateries along Main Street, and you may uncover hidden gems and insider tips. The small-town hospitality of Fort Bragg transforms solo exploration into a shared coastal experience.

Savor the flavors of the Pacific at Fort Bragg's coastal eateries—delight in fresh seafood at places where ocean-to-table dining becomes an immersive culinary experience. Treat yourself to locally inspired dishes, embracing the coastal bounty.

Immerse yourself in the coastal culture by attending local events and festivals. From art exhibitions to seaside markets, these experiences add a cultural layer to your solo coastal adventure, connecting you to the vibrant spirit of Fort Bragg.

Allocate time for relaxation and reflection along the shores of Fort Bragg. Discover hidden coves for quiet contemplation or indulge in a spa day at one of the local wellness retreats. Let the soothing sounds of the Pacific Ocean become the backdrop to your moments of personal introspection.

Today’s Mistake- Losing my earbud

I have lost multiple earbuds, and that hurts. I drop them, they fall out of my bag, or I leave them behind. I recently purchased a more expensive brand of earbuds, so I hope that this will improve my sound quality and make me less likely to lose them. Do you have tips on this, too?

Today’s Travel Advice: For dry skin, use protection.

As the weather gets colder, my skin gets drier. I use more skincare products during the winter months. I use it on my fingernails, hands, and lips. Temporarily protect your cracked or chapped skin with a petroleum-based barrier. It will also protect your skin from cuts, scrapes, burns, and the drying effects of wind and cold weather. Don’t use this on deep wounds, animal bites or serious burns.

Connect with Dr Travelbest

5Stepstosolotravel.com

Drmarytravelbest.com

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Dr. Mary Travelbest Facebook Group

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email: [email protected]

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Check out this Dr Travelbest episode!

#travel #women #dr travelbest #best travel

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libidomechanica · 11 months

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“That float on you, recounting”

A rispetto sequence

But murderous and darken’d in art, must, sure, who on then vouchsafe me by that brightness, staring pearls. That float on you, recounting bid me in your son, on the dead, my delights augment? It was Florian’s fancy feign, baths that next inheritrix of face across the same to me; know you, as birds, stone. Summer’s day gave his brows of am the grass turned here breasts hanging dew?

The wild teach cold, wett, and how, as here; a witchcrafts all in my skin and thee. Into one where somewhere none man lay in foole I oft suffred young again: they dazzled down whelp to creep in bronze for such women, ’ said thou age unbred; ere yet withheld her the pale, all we sleepe. Days is upon me, me, most comet Yet I se and long since he have drawn from her lists were.

Much the spiked their cancelled again. Her heart while wanton o’er dull playground crack; crack thy trains. And talent, I—you and I. And Why I love, deep as long walks, and some red, sown with desire arose with pins; roger so liefe: let the sight:— must a little cloud, when he could always am a grace, so now mans wrong between His After and beat me down and make him your leisure!

And now his come to such enrich the year. But ah vnwise and ben; Blythe, blythe watched the Banquet bids my darkling pride doth good accompts did clear as crystal—and drew, from that lulled me also a pauper. Unto thy odour master’s hand—to juggle with thy glimmering at their habitants of war, or some boy would fain would scarce had no fruite such passions less of happier men.

And dazzled at least. Tinkle homeward of all her, tell her, brief there the could floats in a new- world the sea. Arab—after the porch and wild rose-wreaths of his april touch drove and high raigne Pan though the house did they better mouths, this sang of the tender the with yours in that I becommeth her several parts, and by a fire against thy face. How came scuffing by gladly?

Beyond them: then the rivers seem at such as midsummer death do, if they are about a bitter love and the Darkness green. Than aught at once from Indian on themselves do rob, but read how the very coppice-feathers that men a cool cell wherewith Himself, a broken bee out of truth enlight, bitter incense paired with thy sweet voices more beauty’s summer’s sounde.

And then what tells me wish you not so wild king loosen’d manes, and pride, he linkt a dead man impossible and rubies but kind? Head with lots of bettering on my left the men! Game, and silks shalbe proud-pied April, and yet now is blow, or I tomuch beleeued my soule to leaves the neither shaken with system out, appealing up robed in my love? This way, suffering I come.

Had all things have the musky spot of joy. Make an infinite numbers, wondering at a quiet joke. Rich gems, with whom the games. Where the sad and the first, but born was she but as the tear, nor the stories are raven on it your worth knobs and woman as seen only a white. Were paper-gowned we take my reverend ghost to do have that when then stood up and their straw.

Write—love’s ghosts; then another the shepherd, but chance hasts to swarm the waste, my Rosalind, and gingerbread in the lack. And it seemed, whom the fruits, and Hodge again. Dragging do’t? Or blush, but must like a falling sheep half-naked all the stories are play; he took half-drooping pale as life he long cupped in silence with she but living in each me, only longer most use?

You can contain! Now it—I will feel whole and falling Heaven wide O tell her, a stately placed yougthly pryme, to discpline. Sir Walter shouted at lengthen’d ears, for rage now of the flowers that spot infected all heaven he grocery man called again: I feare. From mine than a glorious flower in her loving mine and that veins the breathe windows run to see and Meg.

Through trust me, Sir, ’twas not murder nor smiled, no doubt, when into a stately Walnut tree, be it ten for proffered in a dreaming, as an army in the sloping, gallants, you all his booth, when you must never die, but I want to frame, such who, his edge. When I was plunged; and hold thou, roger still the evening now. I am two-and-twenty and like shade, lest thou be dumb?

To do have put a padlock on you, then to keep a treasure the Count you might should not silence withdrew his Hand—and, lang night by Night Zulaikha built of a’. Dim, yet finde no truth and the tale half child the sounds and obsequious tear hath dearth and golden sea, the tumult and gingerbread in the and arms I put bees and strange goddess fancy feigning plied and to spell.

And said—but now we sung to run; at night in the should stir this cunning would choose not silent her campfires in these—what kinda like a black lot holds, from the unplumb’d, salt, estrange, and the sun delight. Above that no just as they claim’d the maiden terrible fall so fair that bonie Sandy O; tho’ we paid them alone A soft hand dies along you wrong for it was short.

Child, gaue me checkes I in me, my Rose-tree: be their glorious Lord, I know then men head with stand, hath his shirt of Blisse, the rose her move Petulant white should ape the best be old, for as the eye: yes; and on mee: who faileth one is took, and Baskets of bonie, bonie, bonie Jean. Somehow— I know love is that honours skie: who madest him thy guide. To my heart, which now at least.

The breathe will affection and with the whisper of art—That lived his lily leave those thought, and falls the faire forests, castles, torch of life, being made incomplete, a bottle avails that fresh cheek to choke. The care and did you walk through it may be fountain of pearls away, as they are born. For never heard that the all show you look on the twilight, drawn for one hour I die.

Memory they draw but with ever-after, feign, baths that I bleeding bergs of ice, three times peace proclaims olives in search of a city great! She taught and blisse, the son,—the sodain rysing of you, lawful and Miquelon. As the best beauty’s sovereign law; and, familiar with something grapes or goes; you hold on. Of her Desire; they flash thy neglect: the gaudy shore.

The year extend less greenery which love decrepit man who would feel a hand I shall Stella shining the tumult fell. Being you were physician, blabbing that armed, o eyes by the moulder, give their Christmas up to remember they deal, dismiss me again holds up his hair. I am of the blush, at length renew, were it came from it preacher who refused by night.

Thy outward partly conscious of a violin lasts and which hides the cloudes for the kids had breathe hills. Those disgrace. But down,—burst, shattered immeasure, when he could faine driue cloudes his will affection of it. Be wherever I abide. Immortal youth: the earth forgets I will I seen, Indecent Hunger seizes up and making as if all your hidden in vain.

If stone, more on a sunset; blades of tempest, when though a great is come, can yet these, ye must place to me shouldered by time mine a little trifling? Divide into hay: i’m martyr of our tithes interlace. Red were no whit disdain and sad, in most crashed, thus gan he made. Merely for each, like Swallow, Swallow, then, confesse, that xylem thickens grow sad. That use is crown’d.

Oh! ’ Heaven with pain, dropt a fairy dreamed he’d written, her feet: a tide of Wolues to smile before supper push’d, and chief the slender Lambkins taken planted them with this were not heart who, being made up of the success of twilight through the season: thoughts instead, taking me, the retrospect, but now appeare; for the more— thou love me, you not for everycolor.

Arranged and if thou art found land in her, and poore I cry, less form in the lights thee. From West is best. With enuie, yet I fear, to do, the vapours which head nestled in my heart will blight fading, marrying Bess, they straight grow white lilies a few, and clot.—To winter’s as at rest, the plain, valley, that’s why it must be the casket of my dreaming lips, and brief moment, whole. Ears.

Discussed her neste: howe haue behote him seem long since I’m free, I thought of Dew. Invincible, only movement broken stained the Pelican flying under a vile physical, we took a hauf, and talent, I—you and yet to my bonie, bonie face, and thus I heard brood, however small dust, here’s ne’er so near and fell, as no coloured Flee the surface of your knights, and there.

Of the scene cabin where are aboue of having, runs at Sam, who could add fresh cheeks, or fret at them tame. Lose his wind-tossed his anger was one- and-twenty I heard, while, that thou thinke now on pathless these pleasant game, and, I all regret; o Death my clothe heart and lady friends, and could keep it till over utmost high: see what sweet hear thy silver. In the mirror, spotless age.

No vertue merits prison-bars, is all hear of which Claus of Innsbruck cast in detail made noise with sanctimonious thine, O that their Christmas up to rest. That have thy beauty of your her, a state recouers. By seeing him more that made me a grouped in lillies nearer thro’ the storm. Less mine are a wit, remember them, shedding air bubbles, like eyes of the desert rove?

Of one who are wrong, her round then unto freedome stoop to blame: the plough, O girls play? And make me a ring, all our matcheth not sleep tinkle home. Your way, thy beauty morn did she? Let’s contenting. But murderous and thou that budded fair, no beauty of the tree. There we experiments on the city tower in dool I lickit my woolly hat, there he used to meet.

Gentle shepheard him a far better seen the breathless tabernacle of half so fast by Memory of his hands and increases that I would follow me, then, vngratefull, where packed to be mowne. Hid in the strength now and cedar, oud, imposture murmurs not, she lent my lab’ring Jack and dawn in others in subiect wert, borne thy glass. Of lover were parts of Heaven.

And in death, and wood, which will give the letters of endless prove, and to such peace in the great wrong, but fell into my Pretty witch, I prove, an’ a’ the love to remembering after death for cast over utmost highest places, like a fish out of thee, and he than your marges meet a man—the nights—and each disclaimed all that kydst not the bolts of that do beat high, so well.

If Orpheus voyce the rais’d the nights, and wise. All that life unblessed, she would cure thy sport went hand deface in thy speechless tree: to be mowne. It was Florian. A dull plays, have lent to say my desire arose winter dreerie death for thou art! See now, rebell runaway, didst flie: who told the close cabinet, stella, though I’m sure through the Disease. Across they have made.

That show; all, at all I seek to hope to ride backward it again. What life he long-legged youngling world may stay yet human, so least. There we are about the world would have beheld the star, I paced them in search of burst and shook that would speak griefs of the word repeat, the brawl which they have I seen a count eternity. Let’s content, stood upon the days that when virgins’ hands.

The sun grows sleep: vainly no small his Cypress Stature fetched the cast a frown on high as those who expect, your time toward mind to flakes; behind Salámán, Oh my Soul, oh Taper over ship, but honey Lip. And I almost wrote this, wise silence! And blythe beauty’s sovereign law; and cast a liquor never commend than she. Springs that hidden in like a great effects sounde.

But slanted with grief and chance hasts to smile did gives inseparable—wretch the dusk with blood, stirr’d beneath her the more—thou leave off the flaxen curl to the purple forth her Sorrow at him sallowed in the sun delight; day after mantle laps over breed another ioy hath gain’d of life. His palace so strange round then understand I proue a horses beat, the breast.

If by the world is thereof to me: theeues that brains are her faces toward her, the night, a kind of the humbled on my heart, of the milk poured eve smiles away with me there’s nought a license is no more; which he says beauty of your pious thought and miles to bene espyed. Upon your fell too in your need, and truth needs with whom the Crow his brooms, we did joyous seem!

How afternoon wherever you’re white-haired with facts. Would a maid invincible, arm’d me now. Although the depth of boys their heart of the thing, think of the dam ready to be said, He keepe from Dalliance touch do touch on all suffering fleece of best, if they mind’s imprison-bars, is all dark heart, repeated should not do, though perhaps— on that hinder wrong, her Star was silver.

Death, and Years more love-poem! One has got your vassal, bound Prentice to pay for, and I your bitter the receipt; for whom the raise is crown! Light, each checkmate, but this. Above my mistress’ eyes would ask thus.-Lit from Wound of the delight, your name. Hush and had nae will not stop the same key open hatched them shaken with hope I haue gather’s running luxury, has my object.

And the gallants, you seize; she coming mind destroy the cursed to make the lash, we also in the cast a tree, and bade betweene there reigned on lips of those vapours which he was blood clot. If at most southwest side by side, ply vizard mask, and strangely as we can’t appointed. Your warmer curls kindly heav’nly bosom was ne’er so well, sweet heresy, such is head she pointed.

’ She cataract and before my Fall! On a sail, that I proportion, modestly shining on a sudden sun: we took his couple still of pride I though all those waues in the old man, yet rather accents doth your reserved was born. Now, breathe—because I lay, mouth, roses are sad as tonight—the sobs around. So yourself have no whit behind here unaware in the charm!

Its roads sunken bee out of sight to see how cream but now it—I will be told: not less for fact, which, forehead sitting it to music: ’ and address tree: in true groping flame: which she said, not such grace, through their doome the deserts, and then the sulfuric air, I do not the fruits doing in the evening thee, fa la la. Say over season why ye droop and weary’d with snow.

And shake the papers who grew worse then a boy, you all heaven’s sun stains slopes and a man; a rampant her to displacement slowly crimson from thy slaue, and the kitchen these empty head, prophecy give him be gives Sam a push. Within the child completely weep my father’s fingers tying my pype I neede notes, my Katie; o come, the twangling verse-men you know not yields.

That god forbidden pride, that will be kindle into my nest is East, sing. Because, die: yet I bare as breast. With choise delight, earth will sob on. Or have I heard brood, to their end, to the hopes, and now shines a ioy from hour or hand one moment when she missed: we sevenfold set, five others love, by conquest and impudency raigne on my left me by how anything stars.

Her flocks into barrenly perish: she cool’d? A longing’s first mad with suddenly feet, and thrust us out it is bigger thank you, as birds sight. Quick answered the start to him we were they were, according to thee: the personal life’s offering others, house no eyes may given departest; and the glow those tremulous head of Hope with their parts of branches interlace.

Hardly high raigne on my hart rootes beneath, grand, epic, homicidal; and cry o, my spirits free; so, whence ye see me. That in my heart to his lip: but that are not silent her very walls so false borrow’d faces toward it again; love me with a winter cloud of men, when we move? The freckled all that he, doth high stately place wherein tis his best, of thy name?

Blanks, and care for Stella single Almond packt. Say thoughts augment? His cheeks, but in the yews of tears speak not, she sang of, shook three hot Junes burn’d, since which did fail, proofe of Beauty. On your name. Where packed to quotations to the with the rusty nook remove; that’s why it mustn’t be said, you had everywhere. For when you are love is or should so innocent, by the gurgling great place.

Your client, playing bare truth to me; taking at its arms, here was short scorne Astrologie, and ever the bolts of the ruins; till of thee beseche so be the Ithacensian suitors … the sent a millions lyre did but they call; old I am two-and-twenty, no use to time, stared it compassion rooted from mortality. Lost you, was to subterranean streams.

Leave off the dewy green nets blue eyes of thee how to frost I left her opening nothing and joy: more beauty to dwells at dewy star; in crystal, naked stoop to blame your oath is broad leave thy beauties, come to burning and tried to list to East, far-folded mists, and rarest charming round the cloud of melancholy. ’ And my heart of melancholy; until I died.

I lay on the dead. Not all the maiden yielding pale silver snow, nor wouldn’t even now, rebell too in you long; I a’ the lily and as old Sir Ralph had brought, than half-drooping; and sang.—This is so euill the sky yet reflection, see, of grass: and holes: arsenic, arsenic, arsenic, arsenic, sure, be it under guard blink in her Hair would feel a handle so!

Whose numberless, careless watcher oft, and smacking heart, palpitated, and smite her had, as flown: say to his large eyes, ay seek to hours indignant hast my though trusts him, while both bare as brought, than growing again. Thou that from where turned. So fair, so to thrill and grows? The silver-showered in, that pretentious, it spreads the last which to each. ’Are built, came from its proper Pastime?

And one sweare I was, had wrought her; then the closer than of branches to his hair. Twin Kernels in my breast bo-peepe or crouching like a blood is flown: say to win her bonie, bonie Jean. There sinks with their future/current noon his tenants, wife and his Heart to thy odour and rights, and if thou deigne to say more that tree, be it to him back who to endured, Sometimes of a minute.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #146 texts #rispetto sequence

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rift-explorer · 2 years

Text

//BELOW, MY FRIEND HAS WRITTEN OF HIS VISION AND THE MANY LITTLE DEATHS THEREFORE ASSOCIATED.//

i am looking for something. i open my eyes and stare up at the dark sky and the orange moon.

my hair flows out behind me in the cold water of the river, as my body floats on the surface. the current pushes me in a circle, spinning me, as i continue to look.

i don't want to leave. i want it to be like this forever. the abandoned woods in the cool fall air, ruins unknown and unbuilt, spirits and secrets undiscovered, graffiti art by unknown artists. the river in the summer runs deep and cool. i don't want to leave this place. i simply wish more of this place was in fact this place.

i want the world to forget about me. i want my bones to lie here in the waters forever, i want to experience being a part of true peace. the destruction of the sacred only continues, and what can i do?

i stand and wade into the deeper part of the river, then swim out a bit farther. i dive under the water.

///

tears fall down my face and as i walk through the trees. from every high bough i see another person hanging there, motionless, in the fall air. i don't want to see them anymore. i don't want to see any of this.

but that's not really true, is it? if someone asked me if id like to see more, id say yes. seeing some things that are bad is okay if it's the price of seeing good things too. if someone handed me a potion of vision id take it. if They weren't out to get me id enjoy it. if i could tell someone about any of this without Them finding out, if i could be sure They wouldn't take away my friends, if They would stop staring at me through the eyes of dogs, if They would stop sending the dogs after me, id enjoy it, id be safe. but for now i am crying in a forest of death.

maybe i am seeing this for a reason. maybe someone is trying to tell me something.

these bones belonged to someone.

///

stop staring at me. stop looking at me. i know you can see me through the glass. every mirror is a window, your eyes can see.

this in my hand is the elixir of death, and you will not take it from me.

///

i am in a room, in a bed, with a barred window. outside the hounds circle in, staring at me.

i am in a concrete box. my vision is blurry. twenty, then ten, then five people, adults, in lab coats, in nothing, in suit jackets, surround me and chant, holding out in their hands, a magic bean.

"all is nothing and all is lost. death begins with life. the circle will return you to your grave. your life will end when it's supposed to. you aren't done here." im looking at the glass of a shattered mirror as i fall down and down and down.

///

i am in a rotting house. the words on the walls blur together. the floorboards almost breathe.

everything is quiet.

i am happy.

#alternate reality game #the great darkness #tw #seeing things

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ellitx · 3 years

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Chapter 13: Fidelity

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁

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art belongs to _suucrose

word count: 2.9k

In sun and clouds, the church spire reached into that every stretching blue. It was as if it spoke of the love of the community towards their god, that it too lasted in any weather and called on them to join and put their faith in him.

When Aether and Paimon walked along the nave, the church choir was different compared to the other choirs that didn’t sing hymns. Their voice was almost like angels, high notes soaring over the clouds, graceful notes dancing on the staves, and they sang for the Anemo Archon only.

The two waited to finish their practice before looking for a certain deaconess that might help them gather more information they needed. It wasn’t long before Barbara noticed them and approached the two with a welcoming smile.

“Hello, Honorary Knight. What brings you here today?”

Paimon flew over her and leaned closer for a much better closeness to ask.

“We would like to ask you something about Barbatos!” She exclaimed fervently whilst she placed her small arms in front of her chest. A bright smile was then donned on the deaconess’s face, her blue eyes sparkling in delight at her words.

“Oh! Are you two perhaps interested in serving Mondstadt’s very own Anemo archon as well?” Her tone had an obvious enthusiasm in it. Aether already felt bad that’s not what they were here for, and be that as it may, he still has to prioritize in searching for his lost sibling.

“That’s not the case. We wanted to ask if by any chance the Anemo archon has a lover.”

Barbara’s small pink lips parted trying to utter a single word however a short chuckle was what came from her mouth. It surprised them and was confused if they said something odd. Her delicate hands were now placed on her mouth to stifle her laughs, apologizing in between them, as small tears form from the corner of her eyes.

“Sorry for suddenly laughing. I wasn’t expecting that’ll be your question. But to answer that, there are no stories or mentions if Barbatos had a lover or not in the past. If he did, it would’ve already been written in the books and be sung by the bards everywhere. You celebrated the Windblume Festival, right?"

The two gestured their heads as a yes. "Since you already know it's a festival about love and freedom, wouldn't the Windblume Festival be celebrated for both of them instead of Barbatos only? But just as I have said before, there were no tales about the God of Freedom having a lover.”

Something clicked inside his head though it didn’t last for long as it suddenly fades away like a speckle of dust.

“That’s true…” He turned to look at Paimon who was all troubled and disturbed.

He continued to listen further if there’ll be more clues but it seems like that’s the only information he’ll get for now. His companion looked at him then held her aching head to alleviate the small ringing echoing in her ears.

“Paimon’s running out of brain juice and my head is hurting the more Paimon thinks about this…” The throbbing in her head told her it was time to rest someplace quiet, to ride out the pile of confusion within her brain.

Aether nodded and massaged his forehead in hopes to ease the pain. Why does he suddenly feel so lightheaded? He shook his head and pushed himself forward to carry out his plan on giving the pendant back to you. Words of gratitude were what Barbara received from the blonde and she waved them a goodbye to continue her choir practice with the other members of the Favonius Church.

“Are we going back to the lair?” Paimon asked. Aether hummed in affirmation as they stepped outside of the parish. The harsh sunlight caused him to squint his eyes and cover his face with his arm. Was it always this hot for this season? The sudden change of the climate made him so lightheaded than ever.

Paimon detected how pale he looks as if he’d been painted with white-wash— even his lips were barely there. It was as if his heart had suddenly stopped beating and all the blood had run down into his boots. He swayed just for a moment, then with one step backward, he crumpled like a puppet suddenly released of their strings.

—

Birds trill, sweetly high, the chorus as playful as the birds themselves. With closed eyes, Venti imagined their music to color, painting stairs in the same way grapevines grow - this way and that, in a beautiful harmony that isn't quite random.

Along with your soft humming, it made the ambiance much more relaxing and calm for him. In the calm of the day, his heartbeat is the steady drum to your melody and he seeps into the moment, allowing himself to drown in your beautiful voice.

You rubbed the petals of the red flower between your fingers, watching your skin take on the sunny hue. Venti had spent the entire afternoon lying down on your lap and listening to your canorous tunes that made him forget about everything— as if you two were the only ones in this world with no one to intervene in such a peaceful moment he has with you.

You watched the petal rotate and awed in admiration as a flower’s petal is able to spin like wind wheels.

“Hey, Venti,” You called out to him and peered down to peek at his sleeping face. Your lover hummed in drowsiness before opening one of his eyes to look at you. Dragging the flower close to him, he shifted to get a proper look at what you’re holding.

“What flower is this?”

You’ve always been a curious one. Even before you were in a coma. It’s like you have a passion in you to know every single thing about this world. From small creatures to rare species of beings in the wildlife, anything that catches your interest and you're eager to know more about it.

Your drive to find answers is one of your unique traits he’s grown to love the more he’s with you. You create yourself in that fire of ongoing need that focuses everything that you are. And you do it because it feels as if the finding of the answer is your personal mission, your reason for being, your way of belonging and giving.

It came to him if your curiosity will cross the line. Will it come to you that he’s been hiding his identity from you? Or will you still continue to live life with him in pure denseness? Either way, if you managed to find out he’ll find a way to have you forget what you witness.

For now, he has to be cautious and prevent you from exploring the outside world. Especially if that traveler is around in his land. It’s no good if you meet him. With the help of the humming winds to let him know what’s happening, it occurred to him that he has to just patiently wait and prevent you and Aether from crossing paths.

Venti held your soft hands in his palms and took the flower from you. A small and gentle smile appeared on his face as he leaned forward and pressed his temple against yours, placing the plant close to your chest.

“It’s Windwheel Asters.” He answered and observed how your eyes sparkled in joy when you watched the petals continue to spin.

“I haven’t seen these before.”

Venti lightly chuckled and placed the flower between your hands as he returned to resting himself against you, but this time his head was now on your shoulder. “Windwheel Asters cannot grow in places with no wind nor plagued by strong storms, only where the wind is gentle and nourishing.”

“Really?” You laid your head against his and fiddled with the stem. If these floras are really unable to grow in harsh winds, then it means Old Mondstadt’s storms have truly vanished without any traces left.

Peace and harmony at last.

Freedom is finally with you.

You lifted your hand up against the sunlight and marvel at how simple it is. It may not look as fancy as the cecilias nor does it resemble feathered wings of a dandelion when blown away, but you found yourself liking this more than what Venti had given you.

It’s not like you don’t appreciate his efforts for collecting every cecilias and dandelions in this region to create a wonderful garden for your eyes to fancy with, you still are grateful for it though you do wonder why did he not include these asters in the collection?

“I kind of like this. It reminds me of you.”

Now that made him fully awake.

“Me?”

The color-infused cheeks dimpled with the blossoming smile, your eyes shone in a way that only deep happiness can bring. It was the blush of roses, that peek of champagne pink. Nodding your head to him, you brought the flower close to your face to cover your flushing features.

“You were always fighting for freedom. If it weren’t for you, we won’t be able to see the skies and birds you’ve always wished for. I really admire your perseverance and passion to fight against my father to have the city liberated from his hands. Thank you. Thank you for revolting against him. Thank you for giving everyone freedom they’ve longed for.”

You suddenly felt your throat tightened and your breath hitching every now and then. With your shoulders shaking and chin trembling, you fear he might see you in such a vulnerable state. You lowered your head even more and let your hair cover your face. Even if you hide it from him, Venti can still see small drops of liquid falling from you until it turns into a small puddle on the back of your hand.

“[Name]…?”

“Even though I’m Decarabian’s daughter, you never looked or treated me differently. Even after the war has ended, you never leave me. And now father, mother, and the knight… they’re all gone and y-you survived. You still stayed with me until I woke up… I… I was so scared that once I awoke, I won’t be able to see you.”

You were wiping your cheeks every few seconds and gulping down the lump sitting on your throat. Sniffling quietly, the tears still threatened to spill from your eyes. Your lover gently clutched your hand and used his other hand to lift your chin up to look at him.

Your eyes were red and swollen. It shatters his heart seeing you like this as your tears split over and flowed down your face like a river escaping a dam. Using his finger to dry your damp face, he brushed his lips on your temple and laced your fingers together.

“I should be the one thanking you.” He muttered and brought your intertwined fingers up to his lips to kiss the back of your hand. “Without your support, I don’t know how things would end up. If he— if I hadn’t saved you back then, you’d be locked up in that tower. Things would go differently, wouldn’t they? I can’t bring myself the idea of leaving you there when they were chasing after you.”

He pushed you until your back was leaning against the rough trunk of the tree. His other arm was propped beside your face before he rested his head on your shoulder and nuzzled closely.

“Thank you. Thank you for always being here with me.” Even though his voice was muffled, you can hear him loud and clear through your teary state. A shaky smile came from you as you caressed his hair lovingly before leaning forward and wrapping your arms around him.

“I love you. I love you so much, Venti.”

He has lived long enough to know that what you share he can’t replicate it with another. This love, this feeling, is just you and him. He could travel the world and the seven regions to create new ballads; he’d still come right back at you if he wanted true love.

He has protected you for years, he’s your confidant, a true friend, and even a lover. The trust he gave you, you gave him, is what keeps both of you safe in this world, in this life. So whether his heart beats another day or another hundred years— it’s always yours.

Meeting Venti was more of a coincidence than a fate. Yet it was the first time in your life you felt like you could be yourself around him. Memories of meeting him have become the same as the dream you play time and time again. You felt good with him in a way you haven’t been before or since.

Hearing those three eternal words from you is surreal for him. His heart would beat madly and his stomach churn in such a way excitement and happiness is filling his entire system. He wants to hear from you again.

Just once more so he can finally have you all to himself.

His chest was burning hot and so was his heart that rapidly beats in great euphoria. He can sense your emotions when you cry but this feeling… it’s much more different than he had felt before. A burning desire. He’s so smitten of your entire existence. All words coming from you were all his, he grasps each phrase and corresponds with his own loving and affectionate words.

He was brought out from his trance when he felt how warm his palm is, and it’s when he became aware his hand was now placed on your cheek just like how he brings your hand to cup his face.

Venti felt his face heat up at such a simple gesture and when you give a short and quick chaste kiss on his lips, he recognized the first brightest and sweet smile for this day was painted on your graceful visage.

“I love you.”

His wish was heard when you repeated your confession at him. Is it finally working? Were his efforts finally paid off? Before Ludi Harpastum was the Windblume, a festival where they offer windblumes to their loved ones and to the Anemo Archon. Every year, every time Mondstadt celebrates Windblume, his first priority is to give you cecilias.

He collected them for you every year. He tends them very well until they bloom— until your eyes opened. For him, windblumes are the cecilias. A symbol of elegance, purity, and just as ethereal as your gentle heart. It may be different from what that really means as interpreted by the people of Mond, but for Venti, he feels freedom when he’s with you, he feels loved when he’s with you and it’s the reason why he gathered so many flowers for you while you were asleep.

The arrangement given to him by the former Dendro Archon— she proposed the idea to him to gather flowers for you every time they feast Windblume. He can still clearly remember her words, her voice echoing in his head saying that even she may part from this world.

Her predictions for her own life were accurate. As if she already expected this to happen to her and that’s why she’s planning ahead to list all the preconditions to him to keep you safe and harmless. Barbatos can’t keep relying on her on everything and that is why he put a lot of effort into maintaining the garden.

Yesterday night was the time of the ceremony. Venti prepped everything to make it perfect, he wanted it to be successful. A mimic of a dance he once saw when he and you were together ages ago, it was a secret you both hid but he knows this. Barbatos knows what happened during that time and pretended as if he weren't there.

But now that he was able to dance it with you, one would call him shameless for stealing you from him. The heavy weight on his shoulder was now lifted away, finally free from the guilt he’s been feeling for centuries. His inner battle with himself is fully resolved, inner conflicts vanished, a conflict between his love and longing for you.

Your words eased Venti and made him assured you love him back as well. If you haven’t said a single word about your own feelings, he’d be living in an illusory fantasy that you were only shy to tell him you love him very much. But ever since the bond has been created, all he hears is I love you’s from you for his ears to delight in.

“I love you,”

You repeated once, a faint brush of your lips against his made him shudder. Soft, gentle, and shy just like your personality. Twice when you parted away, grasping how he tastes like apples before meekly leaning on him once more for a kiss but with more vigor. Your hand clutched the front of his shirt when you felt him hold you the small of your waist to pull you against him.

“I love you.”

Thrice was words of tenderness and desire from you to him. At that moment, you felt your body flushed warm. This was a person you wanted to be with than you’d ever felt before.

Venti has always been the one you could love forever.

@trust-the-oxygen

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