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angelltheninth · 1 year

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Lust at First Sight with Star Rail Men

Pairing: Dan Heng, Gepard, Jing Yuan, Sampo, Welt x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, lust, enemies to lovers (sort of), teasing, one time thing, hallway sex, wall sex, rough sex, gentle sex, fast and sloppy, no protection

A/N: I have something similar just for Sampo but I wanted to bring you this too.

Dan Heng almost never succumbs to anyone's charms at first sight. The fact that he wanted to fuck you so hard only hours after meeting you really scrambled his ability to keep calm around you. Not in the way where he's flustered or tongue tied but more in the desire filled way his hands did away with your clothing and he had you naked under him, his cock hard and ready to give you a night you'll never forget, but a night that might not repeat again so soon. So enjoy every thrust, every brush of his lips against your skin, the way his icy eyes look down at you and the way his cheeks have just a hint of pink in them as he pulls out last second to avoid any incidents. He also didn't expect that he'd be willing to help you clean up, to even kiss your hand in farewell and wish you well until you see each other again.

"What is it about you I wonder, that drew me to you like this? So much desire all releasing to the surface when I looked at you, when I'm still looking at you and how breathtaking you look when you have my entire cock inside you. I'd like to do this again, to see what makes you special of course."

Gepard is really shy about the fact that he's letting his lust get the better of him and rule him so completely. He should be stronger then this but alas he can't bring himself to stop moaning in your ear as you rock on his cock, back and forth while he has great trouble getting you into his quarters. He can barely focus with you squeezing around his cock and you know it, you know that you have the power to bring the captain of the Silvermane Guards to heel just by whispering a few sweet words into his ear. A dangerous power indeed, he better keep a good eye on you from now on. For the safety of the public of course, who know what you might get up with those charms of yours. No, no, you're better off here, riding him for all that he's worth, having your ass squeezed by his trembling hands, his eyes burning into yours as he feels you come undone on top of him.

"You should be careful darling, that mouth you have on you is dangerous to many if used in the right way. I'm not just talking about what you did to my cock earlier either. You've seen sides of me that no one else has, imagine what the people would think if they knew their Captain was so weak to temptation. This has to stay a secret alright? In return I give you my word, you can have my cock as much as you need.

Jing Yuan is no stranger to lust at first sight, he's had many in his bed on a whim and it always worked out quite well for him. You're no different, acting all though but folding even in the hallway, presenting yourself and spreading your legs and pussy open for him to take in the open. You have no shame, which he likes. And since you're being so nice to offer he won't refuse. It takes a little to get used to someone his size and girth but being split open by his cock is a thought that scares you for only a moment before hooks his arms under your knees and heaves you up, fucking his cock up in your pussy, making you lean your hands against the wall for support as your mind slowly goes black in the midst of his hard, fast, deep strokes and his balls constantly slapping against you.

"I have to say I am quite impressed. For someone so... well non-intimating looking you have a lot of bite, a even more bravery. So willing to take me, barely a whimper from you as I push inside. Would you been willing to warm my bed for more then just tonight, we could have a lot of fun together, you and I."

Sampo had every intention of making quick work of you. Just another enemy on his path, a wanna be, someone to be humiliated and left in the dust, if not blood. It turned out that you weren't going down so easily, well you were but not in the way he was expecting. Perhaps you are easy, and easy cockslut that is. Is that how you killed your targets, giving them pleasure and then death? An effective tactic but it won't work if he leaves you so exhausted that you pass out from the sheer force of your orgasms, one after another until you killing him is the last thing on your mind. He didn't realize he damned himself as well, you felt too good to just fuck and leave, in fact you swore you started seeing him more and more on missions, and it always ended the same way, the two of you competing to see who can make the other come faster, harder and more frequently.

"How many does that make? Two to three? I owe you one then. Ha! So cocky when just a minute ago you were choking on your words and milking my balls dry. You think you can win this? Fine, another round then, turn over, lets see who wins."

Welt is hesitant to get involved despite his desires only because he wants to avoid either of you catching feelings. He does not have the time for a relationship right now. A one night stand is fine but it really will be only once and only when masturbation isn't doing it for him anymore. Then and only then he will invite you into his bed, treat you like he would a lover, coo and whisper against your skin as he pushes his cock into your hole bit by bit, relishing in the tight warmth of your pussy. Because this is only for a night he makes sure that its filled with as much pleasure as possible, drawing one orgasm out of you after another and making damn sure to pull out every time, and release onto your beautiful body that he will ingraine in his memory and his dreams.

"There's no need to by coy about this, we're both adults here, we can... control ourselves when we see each other again. Yes, I admit that it will be hard not to think of how well you took my cock tonight, however I will always try to maintain professionalism if you can. So what if you can't? Then I suppose we need to lay down some rules don't we?"

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cinnamonmilf · 17 days

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⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ rapid eye movement

summary: you meet ellie in a dream

cw: reader mentions she is an english lit major if u don't like it imagine she said it was the major of your choice, flirty friendship but no dating yet (repost from old account)

BEFORE YOU READ!!!:

WHY BOYCOTT TLOU PALESTINE LINKS DAILY CLICK

"Before you speak don't move 'cause i don't wanna wakeup"

The bright light was making it hard to keep your eyes open, not a single cloud in sight. It was a beautiful place, there was no denying that. Spring had always been your favorite season: leafy trees, blooming flowers, green grass and sunny days. If spring was a place, this would be it.

You decided to explore it, feeling the soft breeze on your skin. There was a big meadow, with a beautiful forest next to it. The bushy green trees complimenting the flowery field. There was something about this place that was so peaceful. Like you were the only person in the world and everything worked for you, rather than against you.

It would be a shame to leave so soon, so you take a seat in between the flowers and take everything in. How could a place so beautiful exist?

Your tranquil state is quickly interrupted by the sound of the grass and dirt being step on. You turn your head to see who the culprit is: a freckley auburnette with big green eyes and, for lack of a better adjective, an angelic face. You were prepared to snap at whoever had taken the sweet blissful state away from you, but after seeing her there was no way.

She doesn't say a word. She sits next to you. You'd usually not even consider just letting a random stranger make their way to you and sit next to you but this felt different. Saying that you had never met this girl before was an understatement, yet it felt like seeing an old friend.

Her presence was warm and pleasant, you felt safe.

"If you are interrupting my moment shouldn't i at least know your name?" you ask her with a playful grin.

"Fair enough. I'm Ellie." She chuckles.

You tell her your name and she nods in acknowledgement.

"We haven't met, have we?" you inquire.

"Not that I'm aware, but it-"

"It feels like it," you complete her sentence before she can, earning a smile from her.

"Well, l've never seen you around here. Think I'd remember a pretty face like yours," she says will a smirk on her face. You scoff in response, finding her antics amusing.

"It's my first time here," you explain.

"Hmm, when you'd get here?"

"What?" You ask with a puzzled face. And suddenly you realize you can't remember how long you'd been here, let alone how you got here.

Before she can even answer your question you wake up by the obnoxious sound of your alarm.

7:00 a.m.

The dream was uneventful, to say the least, but there's something about it that makes you think about it over and over again throughout the day. It was one of those dreams that bring you unexplainable comfort, like a tender embrace, like feeling like a kid again, like feeling some sense of home in there.

And, well, of course there was Ellie. You kept trying to think if you'd seen her before. Her face plagued your thoughts the most. You'd never seen anyone like her, you'd never met anyone like her.

Something about her made you feel like you could spend hours and hours with her and still crave her company. It was ridiculous, you'd spend time how long with her? Fifteen minutes? And yet, you'd never felt that way with anyone before.

Alas, it was a dream. Just a dream. She was just a beautiful entity your psyche had created. Maybe your brain knew it's what you craved and was cruel enough to give it to you in the dream realm, only to get it taken away.

You realized it was useless to dwell on your dreams, so you ended up putting the thought of Ellie aside and continuing your day.

That was, until nighttime.

The warm ambience surrounded you once again and before you could take it all in, you heard that raspy voice that had been echoing in your mind all day.

"You left yesterday," she said.

"Had to go to school." You giggle at her frowny face. She rolled her eyes at you.

"Yeah, well, I didn't get to ask anything about you." And damn her flirty tone because it made you weak in the knees.

"What do you wanna know?"

"Just tell me about you." She shrugged.

"Well, I'm 21, I'm in college, I like cats, reading, animals in general, l like the color green and...I'm pretty boring, don't have much more to tell you.” You chuckle.

"I like green too."

"Really? That's your take on what i said?" You laugh.

"What was I supposed to say?" She protests with a laugh.

"Whatever," you roll your eyes at her now. "What about you?"

"Well, I'm 22, I'm also in college, I like space, science, comics," she tells you, not really sure what else to add on to the list.

"Space?"

"Yeah, like, planets and stars and Nasa and shit."

"Nice, is that your major?" you inquire further.

"Yeah, astrophysics.."

"Just how smart are you?" You ask. Frankly, surprised by the girl.

"Shut up." She laughs. "What about you?"

"English Lit." You explain.

"Suits you."

"Is that good?"

"Yeah, it's good." She responds with that cocky smile that you have grown to love in a couple minutes.

She had a sort of charm you hadn't really seen elsewhere. It was quite boyish and youthful. She had you a little mesmerized. It was quite stupid, considering you barely knew her, but it was true.

"Do you-" and before she could finish her question, you were once again sucked out of your dream.

You groan in annoyance. Annoyed from being woken up, but mostly by the cold morning air reminding you once again that she wasn't real.

Your brain was creative, you'd give it that. Astrophysics is something you didn't even know you could come up with.

You do the whole thing again. Get up, brush your teeth, go to school, try to pay attention to school even when you all could think of were Ellie's freckles and her peachy lips and her pretty dark lashes and the way she had a bun this time, rather than the half-up half-down hairstyle she had last time. Also, about the fact that she was going to ask you something. What was she going to ask you? You could only hope you'd be blessed tonight once more and be able to dream of her.

And so as the sun came down you prepared yourself to go to sleep.

"Please let me dream of her," you thought to yourself. Pleading your subconscious mind.

You don't know when you finally fell asleep, but you were once again in the forest you had began to grow fond of.

"You have a tendency of leaving mid conversation."

There she was.

You turned to face her, "I don't really control it, you know?" You laugh.

"Yeah yeah, whatever."

"What were you going to ask me yesterday?" You ask as you softly kick her foot with yours, an affectionate gesture.

She looks down at your feet, pleased by it. Did the smirk ever leave her face or was it permanently there?

"I was asking if you have a boyfriend."

"Boyfriend? Ew no."

She laughs at your frowned eyebrows and your disgusted face.

"So you like girls?"

"Why? Are you gonna ask me out?"

You'd later cringe at your own question once awake. How on earth was she supposed to take you out?

"Maybe." She said nonchalantly.

"Right. Do you have a girlfriend?"

"Not to worry, all yours."

"You are kind of cocky, do you know that?"

"Oh, come on, you like it."

"Do I, now?" You ask with an incredulous chortle.

"I mean, you do get nervous every time, so l'd say so." She shrugged.

You could immediately feel your cheeks heating up. How could a girl make you lose your composure so easily.

"You are so annoying," you said, to which she just laughed.

Night became favorite time of the day from then on. All you did was repeat the cycle everyday: wakeup irritated, hope your day passed as quick as possible (not without reminiscing of your dream all day long), and go to sleep in hopes of dreaming of her again. And again.

And again. Which, to your surprise, you did. Every single night you dreamt of her.

Somehow your dreams went from feeling like minutes with Ellie, to feeling like a hours. In which you talked about everything.

She was the most fascinating person you'd ever encountered. She was smart as hell, funny, kind and of course, had that little cockiness that never really left her side. Which -she was right- you did really like.

Your dreams had always been quite vivid, but you had never appreciated it until now. You were able to really examine her face, hear her voice clearly, see the detail on her tattoo. You'd feel her hand against yours when you walked around the place, or her hair on your fingers as you raked them through her hair when she'd lied on your lap. Nonetheless, it was always accompanied by that soft and warm glow that came with the dream. You could only imagine how much more you’d cherish it all in real life.

And that was the problem. You were completely and absolutely enamored by a girl in a dream. A girl that didn't even exist. But how could you go on with your life knowing you'd never find anyone like her, knowing the perfect girl for you was nowhere to be found?

Life started seeming unappealing to you. Taking class, hanging out with friends, going out. None of it made sense. All you could think of all day long was the night. Every single hour you spend awake seemed like one more hour of you and Ellie being apart. It was eating you alive and you were allowing it.

As dusk arrived you went straight to bed and let yourself fall into a deep slumber.

Your favorite girl was there, waiting for you. You went to hug her. Ellie hugged you back, allowing herself to relax into your arms.

"Missed you," you whispered.

"You say that everyday," she chuckled.

"I miss you everyday," you giggled in response.

She took your hand and the two of you began your stroll. Admiring the trees, the lustrous pond, the flowers. It never got old.

Today you were telling Ellie about school. You mentioned how you'd lost interest lately, not really bothering enough to commit to your studies as you used to.

"Why's that?" She asked.

"I don't know. I don't really care about much lately. Not school, not my friends, not reading." It mildly concerned Ellie, but she didn't say anything.

"You must care about something," she said as she nudged your shoulder.

"I care about being here with you." You shrugged.

"Yeah, but, something else." She insisted.

You shook your head. You didn't want to lie to Ellie. She was the one person you could talk to. And the truth was that she was the only thing to seem worthy of your attention as of late. "I just wanna be here with you all the time."

"It doesn't work like that, doll," she cooed as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

You felt a tear trail down your cheek, one that Ellie was quick to gently wipe off with her thumb.

She held you for the rest of your time together.

The next morning you slowly opened your eyes, trying to adjust to the change in lightening. You didn't feel vexed like every other day.

You had a tight knot on your chest that you couldn't explain. A fast-growing affliction that wasn't usually there.

After that night, you never dreamed of Ellie again.

It had been three months since you had last seen her. The first few weeks were pure agony.

There was a lot of crying and screaming involved. You were confused and angry and miserable. There was no way to fix it and you didn't even know what you were feeling.

There was no one you could talk to either. What were you supposed to say? That you fell for someone in a dream and now you couldn't deal with the fact that your brain wouldn't let you dream of her anymore?

You kept going to sleep every night hopeful of seeing her again, but it was completely useless. You eventually gave up, realizing it wasn't going to happen.

You were forced to resume your life. You focused yourself on studying, hanging out with your friends, going back to your beloved books. Everything was starting to go back to normal. And yet, there was not a single day where you didn't think of her.

You were headed to your favorite café. Wanting to get some studying done and leaving your apartment for a little bit. As you finally arrived, you settled on your favorite table, put your headphones on and got to work.

Truthfully, your table was a mess. Your computer open, books everywhere and sticky notes all over the place. But it helped you get the work done and that's what mattered most.

After a couple hours you decided to pack everything up and make your way back home, sleep finally sneaking its way up to you.

As you were walking out the door you heard steps hot on your trail.

"Hey, you left this."

Your turned around to see who the familiar voice belonged to. She was handing you a notebook, one you must've missed in the midst of your mess.

As you moved your eyes up to thank the kind stranger, you were met with those two piercing eyes that hadn't been able to leave your mind. The short haired girl with auburn hair, freckles and button nose was standing right in front of you, in the flesh.

It was Ellie.

a/n: hi this is a repost from my old account :) i’ll repost part 2 in a couple days and while i write part 3. hopefully it doesn’t flop massively

taglist @fleshunger @elsbunny222 @whore4abby

#works 𝜗ϱ #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie x you #ellie fluff #ellie williams fluff #ellie x y/n #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x y/n #wlw #lesbian #ellie williams fanfic

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soracities · 9 months

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"Persephone Writes a Letter to Her Mother", by A.E. Stallings

First – hell is not so far underground – My hair gets tangled in the roots of trees & I can just make out the crunch of footsteps, The pop of acorns falling, or the chime Of a shovel squaring a fresh grave or turning Up the tulip bulbs for separation. Day & night, creatures with no legs Or too many, journey to hell and back. Alas, the burrowing animals have dim eyesight. They are useless for news of the upper world. They say the light is “loud” (their figures of speech All come from sound; their hearing is acute).

The dead are just as dull as you would imagine. They evolve like the burrowing animals – losing their sight. They may roam abroad sometimes – but just at night – They can only tell me if there was a moon. Again and again, moth-like, they are duped By any beckoning flame – lamps and candles. They come back startled & singed, sucking their fingers, Happy the dirt is cool and dense and blind. They are silly & grateful and don’t remember anything. I have tried to tell them stories, but they cannot attend. They pester you like children for the wrong details – How long were his fingernails? Did she wear shoes? How much did they eat for breakfast? What is snow? And then they pay no attention to the answers.

My husband, bored with their babbling, neither listens nor speaks. But here there is no fodder for small talk. The weather is always the same. Nothing happens. (Though at times I feel the trees, rocking in place Like grief, clenching the dirt with torturous toes.) There is nothing to eat here but raw beets & turnips. There is nothing to drink but mud-filtered rain. Of course, no one goes hungry or toils, however many – (The dead breed like the bulbs of daffodils – Without sex or seed – all underground – Yet no race has such increase. Worse than insects!)

I miss you and think about you often. Please send flowers. I am forgetting them. If I yank them down by the roots, they lose their petals And smell of compost. Though I try to describe Their color and fragrance, no one here believes me. They think they are the same thing as mushrooms. Yet no dog is so loyal as the dead, Who have no wives or children and no lives, No motives, secret or bare, to disobey. Plus, my husband is a kind, kind master; He asks nothing of us, nothing at all – Thus fall changes to winter, winter to fall, While we learn idleness, a difficult lesson.

He does not fully understand why I write letters. He says that you will never get them. True – Mulched-leaf paper sticks together, then rots; No ink but blood, and it turns brown like the leaves. He found my stash of letters, for I had hid it, Thinking he’d be angry. But he never angers. He took my hands in his hands, my shredded fingers Which I have sliced for ink, thin paper cuts. My effort is futile, he says, and doesn’t forbid it.

#q #lit #quotes #poems #literature #persephone writes a letter to her mother #a.e. stallings #m #x

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bomberqueen17 · 3 months

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RIP to the OG

Alas! Broadway star and legend Chita Rivera has died aged 91.

My cat is named for her, and it's a funny story I feel I should share. See, in 2007 or so, Dude was working for the local alt-newsweekly (remember those?) and during the time he was there, Chita Rivera was scheduled to come to Buffalo for a show. The theatre editor was so excited about this that he insisted on having a 52-week countdown on the theatre page, which annoyed the graphic design department enormously because that page otherwise had a static header.

But it became a running joke. "ONLY FORTY-NINE WEEKS UNTIL CHITA RIVERA!"

The theatre editor was so excited he commissioned a mural of her to be painted on his dining room wall.

I'm not sure how this came about, but somehow she was offered and accepted an invitation to come to his house to dine on the night she was in town. I cannot imagine painting someone on my dining room wall and then inviting her over, but I also have never been the theatre editor in an alt-newsweekly; there are many things I have not experienced in life.

In the midst of this, that's when Dude and I got our kitten. It was like-- of course we had to name her Chita. So we did. But not just Chita. She's Chita Rivera, which confuses the vet enormously, because neither of us have the last name Rivera. "She's not related to us," Dude explained patiently to the vet receptionist, who did not find this enlightening.

Anyway-- she was apparently a wonderful guest to dinner, the show she came to do was delightful, it all went swimmingly. She apparently was not at all disconcerted by the mural of herself, which I suppose if I were a legend I might also not find that disconcerting.

And while she was there, she told them her margarita recipe. I have made this recipe on several occasions and please serve it over a lot of ice because it will kill you otherwise. It is refreshing and actually really delightful to drink. It does not taste as strong as it is. It is incredibly strong.

Lo: The Chita Margarita, in memory of the realest of them all.

Take 1 can of limeade concentrate and empty it into a pitcher. Refill the empty can with tequila, and add that to the pitcher. Now refill the empty can with cheap beer-- Corona will do, something pale-- and add that to the pitcher.

Voila! No, this cannot be scaled down. Please serve it over ice.

Rest in peace, legend!

#chita rivera #dolores conchita figueroa del rivero #obituaries #cocktail recipes #a life well lived

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prettyboytsum · 4 months

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˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ day off I nanami kento pairing: nanami x reader tags: slice of life (maybe part of the series?), fluff, (no beta, we die like men) wc: 1,005

nanami kento doesn’t have days off.

ever.

in fact, nanami is the ideal employee, as per his (less than empathetic) bosses. he’s always punctual—clocking in at the exact time or ensuring he’s five minutes early to meetings. he’s reliable—even if the assignment was given the night before, rest assured he’ll have it done without working overtime. nanami has never requested for a day off—not for his birthday, not for meet-ups with friends, and not for special dates with you. he delivers the results necessary but rarely lacks or goes above and beyond.

it helps that he has a schedule. up at the crack of dawn—with only one alarm to wake him from his restful slumber. breakfast, a shower, and coffee all in an hour before he’s giving you your usual morning kiss and a reminder about your date that evening.

so, on one of the rare days that you aren’t needed in the office, and the chirping of birds or the slow sway of the sunlight doesn’t wake you up—an unusually warm body beside you does. you almost jump, this couldn’t possibly be your beloved. you half-expected to be able to spread yourself all over the bed for the morning, only to be denied when a lean body hits against your arm.

you groggily open one eye but your brain quickly works overdrive.

”don’t—don’t kidnap me,” you slur, sitting up quickly as you realize that there’s an arm around you. you rub your eyes, tripping over your words before you can muster up a more intimidating way to threaten this intruder. which, in retrospect, you don’t imagine to be very intimidating with your morning hair and nanami’s shirt as your pajamas dressing you. “’s not nice—i know a cop.”

”you do?” a voice responds, awfully familiar but you don’t let yourself get too comfortable. your eyes squint at the sunlight when you hear a gruff continuation. “i didn’t know any of our friends worked for the precinct.”

our friends? what type of friends could you even share with a—

you blink once. twice. before a realization dawns on you—one that swirls confusion, which seems to be a pre-requisite to the budding hope spreading throughout your chest.

”kento?” you ask, sitting a little straighter as you look at the space beside you. alas, your fiancé, in all his glory. nanami’s blonde hair sprawled over the white pillows, a mess before the usual pristine styling. his posture is relaxed, an arm resting behind his head as he looks at you with an amused expression, one that sits behind morning sleepiness that you haven’t been familiar with. not when he’s always the one to wake up. it doesn’t help that he’s topless. you find it a little unfair that he’s this attractive right after waking up.

”g’morning, darling.”

”good—good morning?! do you know what time it is?!” you splutter, looking at the bedside clock. of all your years of knowing him, nanami has never been late. you can’t help but think that tonight might be the first time he’s broken a global record.

you might have to start celebrating this milestone yearly.

”ten thirty-nine?” he muses, the amusement no longer hidden behind the usual morning grogginess. you look at him like he’s grown a third head.

”ten—ten?! kento, it’s way past your hours—”

”i know.”

”you know?! but you’re sitting here like you have a calvin klein shoot—”

”i took the day off.”

”you did what?!” you exclaim, almost as if you’ve heard the most absurd news of your life. to an extent, you kind of just did. “are you sick?”

”not that i know of, no, love,” nanami asks, now genuinely confused at your reaction. any other lover would celebrate a day where they could spend time together; a cafe, a slow day in, anything really. he finds your reaction amusing—and slightly disheartening. “is there a problem?”

there’s a silence as you soak it all in. a day. where nanami kento has willingly decided to not go to work. you can’t possibly fathom a reason why he isn’t clocking in his office with the most uncomfortable chair known to man. surely, there’s paperwork that nanami can’t miss out on—or so he claims every time you grumble about him leaving so early in the morning.

”problem? no. irregularity? yes.” you respond, finally shifting in the bed to turn to properly face him. he’s propped up by his arm—looking far too handsome for a man who just left his company in shambles (he didn’t). “you’ve never taken a day off.”

a pause as nanami thinks before he shrugs. “i guess i haven’t. there’s never been an urgent reason to file for one.”

"oh, and my—”

”yes, darling, your morning pouting is not categorized as urgent.” he responds, biting back an amused smile as you immediately let a huff out. the familiar jut of your lips only entertaining him further. “but it did do a number on me. i thought to take a day off so we could spend time together.”

you squint your eyes in response—almost accusingly as you cross your arms. he lets out a chuckle—a little rough with morning sleepiness but it’s attractive nonetheless. there’s a set of arms that wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him until you’re practically on his lap. nanami’s chin rests on your shoulder, your back to his chest as he keeps his arm around your middle.

”so suspicious? just cause of my day off?” he whispers into your ear, planting a kiss on your shoulder. your heart stutters. “had the whole day planned out, princess.”

there’s a familiar giddy feeling that spreads through your chest—a familiar sensation when it comes to being around nanami. one of his hands interlocks with your left, his fingers playing with the stone he bought you a couple of weeks ago. a promise for a lifetime together—and an unforgettable wedding, he assures you.

”i’m marrying you after all, it’s only right that i want to spoil my wife.”

✩ author's note: i need him in ways that are concerning to feminism. i need him with me. ⓒ prettyboytsum 2024. all works are posted under this account on tumblr.com and are protected by copyright laws. do not plagiarise these works on any other platform or account.

#₊˚⊹♡₊ luna writes #jjk #jjk hcs #nanami kento x reader #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #jjk x reader #jjk scenarios #nanami kento #jjk fic #kento nanami x reader #nanami x you

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i-like-eyes · 1 year

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Trying to figure out how they'd work as puppets

More in depth analysis below the break

For those that don't know, typically the three most common variants of foam puppet are know as rod hand, live hand, and walk around. Examples would be Elmo, Cookie Monster, and Big Bird respectively. Rod hands are smaller in size and held up by, well, rods. Live hands have the puppeteer (or two!) insert their hand in a sleeve connected to the puppet for more interaction. Walk around puppets are full costumes the puppeteer wears, but what makes them puppets and not like, fursuits, is that there is still puppet mechanisms like moving the mouth or blinking.

Here is what comes from the website/Clown's tumblr:

Julie is a rod hand

Eddie is a live hand

Poppy is a walk around

Barnaby has a walk around and live hand

Howdy has a walk around and live hand

Sally is a live hand but "required an additional hand to help move her head, as it was much larger than other puppets"

Frank is said to have a fixed expression but his head could spin, rather he was rod or live or magic third thing I cannot figure out

Wally doesn't have any details regarding his puppet anatomy because he is special like that

Of note:

Julie likely has smth holding up all that hair (please be a fucked up skull please be a fucked up skull)

Poppy is a pretty standard walk-around puppet (she's just Big Bird), but I'm having trouble understanding how a human could fit into Barnaby or Howdy. Then again, 2d artwork of puppets tend to take liberties for the sake of stylization. So if someone were to make them IRL they'd either look really different or utilize tech I don't think was available in the early 70's

Howdy's legs could work on Squidward Spongebob Musical logic. Arms I have no clue, as a live hand he could have multiple people filling up those arms, but as a walk around idk cheap spider costume logic were the lower arms are attached to the upper arms ala a string?

I do not know what to make of Sally needing extra help to hold up other than that's so specific it might become a plot point

Frank.

Okay Frank lacking details or having weird details that stand out is a running theme for him. He has no listed backstory whereas everyone else can say where there were from and who their family is. Every character's first name ends with a long "e" sound whereas Frank is. Frank. (His last name "Frankly" does cover that though). The fact that WHRP lacks any concrete detail on his creation is a story reason, what's the story no clue we are 5% in dudes

Regarding his puppet, he obviously had a fixed frown because puppet but also could spin his head. Now I have absolutely zero clue how you can have the head spin and also have room for the hand for the mouth, unless this is a rod puppet (Rizzo the Rat) where the mouth is moved by some other mechanism. All I can say is I'd suspect Frank to have a very stiff (read: not majority foam) head and body in order to hold up such a feature. If his head can detach, I can imagine a metal ring of sorts that his collar covers up

His arms are a different story. The website not clarifying how his arms work doesn't really mean there is anything particular about them, but I am going to over analyze is anyway dammit

Points for rod hand: arms/hands are slim, inspirations Bert and Mr.Robinson are rod hands, lack of other rod hands/variety reasons

Points for live hand: Sally also has slim hands but is live hand, not all live hands have thick arms (looks at how small Ernie's upper arms are compared to his fore arms), Beaker hasn't been listed as an exact inspiration for Frank but look at him, and most importantly is Poppy. Poppy is noteworthy for being the only walk around puppet without a live hand counter part. As a result of having wings for hands the puppeteer cannot realistically perform any of the baking tasks in her segment. As a result she gets help from Sally, Howdy, Eddie, and Frank. The former 3 are all live hands, and one can assume that because of this Frank could be a live hand as well

And finally I know he's said to not super expressive but my heart says that he would look great with the eyebrow mechanism Bert and other puppets have.

I should point out that puppets from the 90's (Dinosaurs and TMNT come to mind) used more robotics in order to achieve more expression with the characters, but I don't think that kind of tech was common place in the 70's and would apply here.

The big take away is that this post was made for practical reasons; I am just Quite Fond of researching this kind of thing. This will probably not get you any lore, but it could provide context for the characters. I personally suspect that Poppy not being able to fly or perform tasks she swore she could will play a big of her character. In general I think that what other puppets can and cannot accomplish will play into the theme of figuring out who you are. That's the real fun.

#welcome home #julie joyful #eddie dear #barnaby b beagle #howdy pillar #poppy partridge #frank frankly #throwing him in because he takes up a good chunk of speculation

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narislvr · 4 months

Text

── simp!abby drabble p.2 ₊˚ෆ

,, cws? none. pure fluff ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ ── 750 words.

,, abby x fem!reader ♡ / college au

ᝰ.ᐟ continuation of this post !! -> pt III

₊˚ෆsimp!abby who can't help but fall in love all over as you doze off in her arms.

──

abby's not the type to fall easily. whether it be from the fear of getting hurt or her own stubborn want to focus on building her career and herself, romance just hadn't been a critical necessity in her life. but in the rare chance she does, she falls hard.

she had convinced you to spend the night at her dorm room, her roommate had gone out for the night leaving the room to her disposal and what better way to end the night than to have you wrapped in her arms?

you had protested at first, not wanting to keep her from being well rested for the annoyingly early class she had the next morning.

but fuck, the way she looked at you with a pleading glint in her eyes followed by the gentle kiss to the corner of your lips as she promised this would only help her rest better, had you giving in with a defeated smile.

strong arms wrapped around your waist as she buried her face into the crook of your neck, breathing in the remnants of the soft vanilla scented body spray while you quietly spoke about something she wasn't entirely paying attention to.

not that she didn't want to pay attention.

she just couldn't.

how could she when the woman of her dreams was laying beside her? on her bed, back hitting her chest as you wore one of her old Bruce Springsteen t-shirts in order to not wrinkle the pretty top you had been wearing earlier. (in reality she just wanted to see you in her clothes, but she wouldn't admit it when you jokingly teased her about it.)

It just all seemed so surreal to her.

Like, how in the world had she gotten so lucky?

sure, she had always cringed at the "lesbians move fast" stereotype finding it rather silly and unsenseicle, but in that moment she completely understood why.

as your voice became nothing more than a sleepy mumble, abby couldn't help but imagine future mornings where you two would be in the same position in your shared bed, under the roof of your own house, a dog laying at the foot of your bed as she talked about her day, you humming in response as you turned to face your then wife, cutting off her ramble with a tired kiss.

was she getting ahead of herself? Oh definitely.

and yet she couldn't help but long for that future to come true.

she’d only known you for a little over five months, but she already knew she wanted matching stockings by the fireplace, stolen kisses under the first snow, the smell of morning coffee, your charming smile as you woke up beside her, and she hoped you wanted that too.

the thought of all that alone was enough to send her into a lulling sleep. the best she's had in a while honestly, and she'd use that the following morning with a playful "I told you so" as she poked fun at your earlier hesitancy of staying over.

──

"thought your first class was at seven, why the hell is your alarm on for five?" you groan, woken up by abbys morning alarm as you turn to face your equally tired and sheepish girlfriend.

"morning run, hon. It's a good way to start the day," abby would hum, placing a sleepy kiss to your forehead in apology.

there was no morning run that day however, as she instead decided to sleep in another hour and set another alarm to get ready for class later.

──

“text me when you get to your dorm, alright? I’ll let you know when i get back from my last class so we can have lunch together.”

“i will, don’t worry, abbs. see you later then?”

she would rather spend the day cuddled up in bed with you, but alas, she couldn’t be too greedy, so instead she nods. her hands come up to caress your cheeks gently, pressing yet another kiss to her forehead as she smiles down at you. she only pulls away as you tease her that she’s going to be late, and even then, it was begrudgingly.

as she leaves the building, she can’t help the dopey smile on her face as the cool winter air hits her skin.

god, you had her wrapped around her finger and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

#─ nananari writes ‧₊˚#abby anderson x fem reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson hcs #abby the last of us #abby anderson #abby tlou #simp!abby anderson #the last of us #shes def a gentle giant #yall im obsessed w her #pls keep requesting more simp!abby </3

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lovebugism · 6 months

Note

for fictober could I request from the 50 autumnal prompts ‘when he wears THAT flannel’ with Eddie please?

we were so robbed of Eddie all boyfriend in soft cosy clothes. R wouldn’t be able to keep their hands off of him and he’d love it come autumn when it’s all he wears.

ugh imagine him in like thick baggy sweaters and when he reaches up it just exposes a bit of tummy 😍 I’m like a Victorian seeing ankles

love you xoxo

hi angel! idk how i managed to make this angsty, but alas! hope you like it :D

summary: you and eddie try to get used to life post-vecna but it's not nearly as easy as you thought it'd be (post st4, established relationship, wee bit of angst tw for mentions of death and scars, 1.2k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Eddie’s pretty much recovered by mid-fall.

Not totally. But mostly.

You think getting away from Hawkins helped the most — moving out of the city and settling further in the green. Even though everyone back home eventually understood that Eddie wasn’t the psycho-killing freak they made him out to be, things had changed far too much to ever go back to normal again.

Something’s break beyond repair. Something’s just can’t be fixed.

Not your Eddie, though. Eddie’s perfect. Damn near it, anyway, considering the circumstances.

He’s still got the nightmares and the phantom pains — even though he tells you he doesn’t. But he’s graduated now and helping Wayne at the car shop whenever he can. He’s taking the newfound normalcy in stride, spending early autumn with you and making you hot chocolate like nothing ever happened.

“You like marshmallows in your cocoa, right?” he calls from the kitchen, though he sounds like he’s talking mostly to himself.

You hear him, but you forget to answer. Your brain all but short circuits at how pretty he looks.

You eye him from the couch while he bustles in the kitchen, and gutwrenching existentialism knocks the wind from your lungs like a fist to the stomach.

You weren’t supposed to have Eddie again. You weren’t supposed to share a home like you always dreamed about, and he wasn’t supposed to make you hot cocoa or keep you warm when autumn got too bitter.

A season or more ago, you were saying your goodbyes while he bled out in an alternate dimension.

You haven’t yet forgotten how pale his skin had gotten or how glassy his chocolate eyes grew as the life spilled from the weeping bites on his stomach. The feeling of his blood, slimy on your hands and drenching your clothes, hasn’t yet left you. The red-hot blood in the unnatural navy blue cold still lives in your head.

But it’s only there. In your head.

And Eddie’s right in front of you — wild hair, baggy pajama pants, and all. You can smell the musk of his cologne and the floral of his shampoo. He’s real enough to touch.

He’s real.

The realization hits you every day, all the time. It wells from your chest up into your throat and makes you feel like crying. Most people don’t get to say goodbye to their soulmate and eat Wednesday morning breakfast with them months later.

You’ve got so much gratitude inside you, bursting like golden rays of sunshine, that you don’t know what to do with it all.

“Babe?” he calls again when you don’t answer. “Did you hear me?”

He pokes his head in the doorway, and your eyes go wide. “Huh? What?” you stammer, shaking your head to jerk yourself out of your stupor.

Eddie laughs, high and boyish. It sounds like heaven, and it pierces your heart. Six months ago, you never thought you’d hear it again. “I asked if you wanted marshmallows, weirdo.”

You nod rapidly and ramble an answer. “Oh, yeah. Sure. Thank you.”

“O-kay,” Eddie lilts, though his voice wavers with confusion. His grin widens and his eyes narrow, but he doesn’t ask why you’re acting so suddenly strange.

You wonder if he’s used to it by now. You wonder if he knows when you go quiet that you’re remembering that a part of you nearly died.

He returns to the kitchen and reaches for the upper cupboard. A sliver of his milky white tummy peeks from beneath his flannel. You can see the bites from here. They’re scarred over now, dark red and light pink and thunder-strike purple. It almost jars you how healed they look. The wounds are still fresh and weeping whenever you close your eyes.

Eddie comes in from the living room, balancing two mugs in his hands rather carefully because he’s filled them to the brim. He’s got his usual ceramic Campbell’s Tomato Soup cup in one hand and your sleeping Snoopy in the other. The innate domesticity makes your stomach whirl.

“You okay?” the boy wonders with pinched brows when he hands you your cocoa.

You nod with glittering eyes, mustering a faint smile up at him. The mug warms your chilled, trembling hands.

“Mm-hmm… Why?” you question, though you’re more than aware of why.

Eddie’s got a knack for knowing how you’re feeling before you’ve even hinted at it. You think he might’ve got mind-reading powers when you were in the Upside Down.

“I don’t know. You just looked a little… far away, I guess.”

“Just missed you,” you confess with a bright, innocent gaze.

Eddie snorts as he rounds the couch to sit next to you. “While I was in the kitchen ten feet away?”

“Yeah. ’S way too far.”

“Well, remind me to carry you with me wherever I go, then.”

You know he’s joking, but you beam anyway. You don’t want to be anywhere that he isn’t. You don’t want him to go where you can’t follow.

Eddie takes a sip and smiles at your smiling. His grin is crooked and rosy and lined with whipped cream. He leans in to kiss you with it.

You pull back from him, just far enough to wipe the melted sugar off with the pad of your thumb. You give him a smacking peck a second later.

With a kissed grin, the boy leans back against the couch with his arm sprawled along the back of it. You curl into his side like his own personal puzzle piece, nestling your mug between your bodies with one hand and settling your free one on his stomach.

Your fingers seem to gravitate beneath his fuzzy flannel without you having to think twice about it.

Eddie doesn’t seem to mind, either. His attention is consumed by the television — a Scooby Doo re-run he’s probably seen a thousand times. His chuckle rumbles against your cheek. You laugh along with him, made content by the sound of his boyish delight.

Your fingers dance through the fuzz of his happy trail, then settle on something softer.

The marred skin of his warm tummy feels like silk. Before you realize what you’re touching, the boy beneath you jolts.

You nearly spill your cooling cocoa when you freeze alongside him. You part from Eddie with a gaping gaze, wide eyes darting over every inch of his face. You’re frightened that you’ve hurt him, but his pink grin only widens.

“Oh, shit. Are you okay?” you blurt. “I wasn’t— I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Eddie turns to you, then. His features are blurry with sleep, and they twist with confusion at your misplaced concern.

“No,” he answers with the shake of his head. The softened ends of his chocolate curls brush your cheek. A laugh sputters from his mouth. “It just tickled, babe. It’s fine.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. It wavers on the way out, but you manage a trembling smile anyway. “Oh. Okay,” you hum, breathless.

“Yeah. ’S okay,” Eddie murmurs softly back, wrapping his pale arm around your shoulder to pull you closer. He presses a kiss to the crown of your head and lingers there. “I’m okay,” he whispers into your hair.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #event: fictober!

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ddarker-dreams · 9 months

Text

Nexus.

Yandere Blade x F Reader.

Warnings: Nothing major yet, some minor Honkai: Star Rail spoilers. Word count: 4.6k.

Nexus index.

On the planet Eris, in the city of Perianth II, night reigns, for there is no star close enough to challenge its rule.

Deep within the bowels of the metropolis lit only by manmade contraptions, sits a bar known as LOTUS-EATER, carved into the cragged terrain as if it’d always been there. It had not, in fact, contrary to local legend. Had the IPC not run into issues with overcrowded prisons, this planet they now consider a scourge would never have had the means to limp on.

Easy solutions cultivate the conditions for worse problems to develop later on.

This is what your mother — a shrewd woman to her core — instilled in you.

Grimacing, you reread the words on your screen for the umpteenth time.

… You wish she had instilled some business management skills instead.

“Miss Exalted-One-Ma’am, when are you coming back inside? This client is refusing to leave until he can speak with you. Lear is running interference, but that’s going as well as you can imagine,” a feminine voice calls out.

You glance up fast enough to assess her expression. Despite the severity of her words, she’s smiling, amber eyes crinkling by the corners. Her chestnut-colored hair is worn in a braid that extends down the length of her back, meaning she hasn’t clocked out yet, or else it’d be loose. You have some wiggle room, then.

“Nona,” you beckon her over, “What do you think this means?”

Inquisitive creature she is, she doesn’t waste this opportunity to poke around in your private matters. Her eyes flitter back and forth as she takes in the contents of your phone. Interlocking her hands behind her back, she hums.

“Looks like we’re due for a visit.”

“That’s what you gathered too?” You murmur. “What a mess this is turning into. The last thing we need is for the hounds to start sniffing around.”

“I dunno what you’re frazzled about, exalted one. The locals wouldn’t cough up info to the IPC even if their life depended on it.”

“Therein lies your answer — the locals won’t, but our clientele is vast as the universe is infinite. Someone looking to score quickly could put in a tip. The hounds are just itching for an excuse to put an embargo on Eris again.”

She shrugs. “Outsiders bribed and snuck their way in last time, they would now too. Benefits of a quality product.”

You shake your head and pinch the bridge of your nose. Nona means well, but if she thinks in such simple terms, her training period won’t ever end. Or perhaps you’re being a tad too harsh on the girl, you haven’t slept since receiving this text message two cycles ago. If it weren’t for how scarce this technology is, you would’ve smashed it to pieces for causing you such prolonged strife.

Alas, as a native of Eris, there are two things you intrinsically cherish above all else — any object that emits light and the special nectary cradled within the planet.

“I’ll take your input into—”

A shrill shriek cuts you off before you can finish your sentence.

“The hysterical client, I reckon,” Nona dryly remarks. “Now, can you please come in before Lear gets stabbed? If it isn’t already too late.”

You don’t bother dignifying her macabre speculation with a reply. You enter through a back door accessible only to LOTUS-EATER staff, weaving around boxes of cargo that need to be sorted. A heady, aromantic scent clings to the wood, yet its temptation is long lost on you. Where the clients indulge, you abstain. The livelihood of yourself and your workers relies heavily on your psyche’s clarity.

Emerging from the back rooms has you standing on the building’s second floor, an area known as The Lounge. Here, the spherical, gravity-defying emitters of lights standard in this region are set dimly. This latest model even allows you to adjust the dimensions, ranging from small enough to fit in the palm of your hand to the size of a room. There was supposed to be one more on this floor, but while unpacking the order, it slipped from Lear’s hands and met an early demise. Great cooperation was needed to locate the glass that floated to the ceiling.

You check the status of occupancies. Two private rooms are in session, the other eight are empty. By your design, it had been a slow night. You gave orders to the receptionist, Thalia, to only book appointments for influential customers, just in case the omen floating over your head comes true. You walk down the hallway which leads to the first floor, only to notice cool colors set in a square array by the digital lock.

The sight doesn’t sit right with you. You consider taking a detour to investigate, only for the commotion downstairs to encourage otherwise.

“Sir, if you’d please calm down—”

Lear’s gentle voice is cut off by another.

“I demand to speak with her,” it heaves. “The mind witch. Where is she?”

The electronic curtains that lift for those put into the LOTUS-EATER’s database part in a magnificent flurry of scarlet hues. You feel each set of eyes that glance your way. It’s a typical ensemble present — affluent travelers, political emissaries, and well-to-do merchants. Some drink at the bar, others watch the live entertainment playing soft music. Everyone aside from the heaving interloper is dressed in the formalwear expected of the establishment.

The click of your heels against the dark wood floor reverberates throughout. The man’s reaction to your appearance is delayed, though he eventually turns his head to see where Lear is looking. Resentment contorts his face upon spotting you. You recognize him. Jay R. Alister, a client who gave Thalia a difficult time due to his demands to have a Synalink booking today. You thought you smoothed over the matter by granting him access to the first floor, The Club, and placing him on a priority list for next time.

Copious amounts of alcohol must’ve unraveled your hard work.

“Shall we take a moment to collect ourselves, sir?”

“No one— no one understands,” he insists, swaying ever so slightly. It’s a peculiar sight. One message from a handful of the individuals present would be enough to spell doom for Alister, this charade likely already has him blacklisted across multiple star systems. To be a client at LOTUS-EATER is a privilege. Everyone adheres to the unspoken rule of the honor system, eliminating the need for security inside.

“I’d like to, Mr. Alister, if you wouldn’t mind explaining to me outside.”

He’s drunk, but a low-level link can be established, you surmise. It isn’t an option without risks. As a recurring client, he could catch onto the invasive feeling and grow further agitated. The eyes fixated on you grow heavier. Some are curious, others bemused, and a few pass silent judgment, comparing your capabilities with the previous Exalted Arbiter.

He blinks slowly. “My Roze… she’s upstairs. She’s waiting for me. I can’t— can’t be late…”

“You won’t be,” your voice takes on a concerned lilt, “Let’s go meet her elsewhere. Follow me and I’ll take you to her.”

A white ring forms around his pupils.

“You… will?”

“I will. Come, now, we wouldn’t want to waste any more of her time, would we?”

The ring goes from opaque to solid.

The low-level link has been made manifest. You feel the thread connecting you to the essence that makes Jay R. Alister himself.

You stride past him and he immediately scrambles to follow. Out of the corner of your eye, you note how Lear’s shoulders relax and give him a reassuring nod. He did a good job stalling until you could personally see to this matter yourself. If this had occurred any other time, it would’ve been your top priority, but a far more sensitive issue threatened to ensnare you in a worrisome web.

One after another, the pairs of eyes fall, like a flying pest in its final moments. Conversation resumes and the music increases in volume.

Cool air embraces you once you’re outside. This particular region is well-lit, a testimony to its prestige. Restaurants, boutiques, and other fine shops have been built with walls of dark stone naturally found on Eris for better insulation. The once rugged streets are smooth, painstakingly cobbled together by a city planner many Amber Eras ago. Any crack has molten gold poured into it so that when it dries, the ground beneath your feet is a never-ending sea of ebony and gold.

You wave over the closest security guards. The rest can be left to them, Mr. Alister has damaged his reputation enough for you to consider his dues paid. You’ll tell Thalia to take him off the registered client list for LOTUS-EATER and that’ll be the end of it. You’re preparing to head back inside when a pervasive, overpowering influence freezes you in place. It’s reminiscent of an electric current.

The taut link between you falters.

Straining…

(He’s reaching into his pocket).

Fraying…

(His hands wield a sharpened implement).

Until it snaps.

The subjugated lunges at the subjugator.

You try to re-establish the link, but there’s a fortress around his mind that wasn’t there moments prior. Imposing and unbreachable. Where did this surge of mental fortitude come from? You need to think, you need to act. There must be a way for you to regain control, your technique is unshaken even in the face of imminent demise. In the three seconds it takes for him to close the distance, you make seventy-four attempts, each ending in failure.

Has the last grain of sand fallen to the bottom of the hourglass, cementing this choice to believe in your abilities as the wrong one?

This can’t be the end. Who will take care of—

Metal clashes against metal.

The being in front of you is a shade. Tendrils of agony untold slither up from his thigh and squeeze around his neck, constantly choking him, yet refusing the sweet reprieve a crushed windpipe would give. This is a person acquainted with every suffering a living creature could ever endure. The prismatic shards that detail his countless tragedies aren’t just broken, they’re eviscerated, an indecipherable mess. Some scattered to the wind and others forcibly scratched out.

This nightmarish presence eclipses your would-be killer.

His eyes meet yours and the hairs on the back of your neck stand.

“Don’t bother,” is all he says.

He could sense you trying to poke around in his head? Has he come into contact with Arbiters before? That can’t be possible, you’re familiar with everyone on the LOTUS-EATER registry. You cease your ministrations without verbally acknowledging him. His hollow expression burns into your retinas, invading your mind’s eye. The sword he saved your life with holds a similar weight. It radiates such intensity that you needn’t use any techniques to get a better read on it.

Walking up the steps in a casual manner is the last person you wanted to see — Kafka of the Stellaron Hunters. She spares the now subdued Alister a glance then turns to face you.

“Fortunately, I had the foresight to send Bladie ahead,” she smiles. You resist the urge to scoff. “Otherwise, our meeting would’ve been far less pleasant.”

So that man’s with her, you think. That’d explain why I couldn’t make any progress.

If the defenses surrounding Alister were comparable to a fortress, the minds of the Stellaron Hunters are like a deflective shield. Any extensive attempts at trying to gain access end up backfiring and causing you damage so long as they remain up. The only other being capable of a similar feat was your mother. Now, in the few years since her death, you’ve encountered three more with similar capabilities.

Are your abilities growing dull? Or are other species simply evolving?

You order the guards to deal with Alister as they see fit, he’s no longer your primary concern.

There’s a far worse headache forming on the horizon.

“... I suppose you’ll follow me inside whether I invite you or not?” You question, just barely managing to maintain the smile painted hastily on your face.

Kafka doesn’t reciprocate your hostility. She never does. Instead, she motions in the direction you were planning on taking them to avoid any unwanted attention. The guards won’t be an issue, since they’re on your payroll. You don’t want to risk lingering and being spotted by someone without an allegiance to you.

“I won’t overstay my welcome, Exalted Arbiter. You have my word.”

By essentially showing up uninvited at your front door, she’s placed you in quite a precarious situation. The man who parried Alister’s attack hasn’t dropped his vigilance for an instant. His posture is that of an animal poised to pounce. You lack the means to fight them off should they choose to utilize force.

Your gut instinct tells you it’s a bad idea to get involved any further. Your mind reasons you can only play the cards you’re dealt.

A sigh passes by your lips. “Very well. Let’s get on with it then.”

The duo follows wordlessly behind you. Kafka remains close, whereas the swordsman lingers further back, taking care to avoid well-lit areas and remaining hidden. Had you not already been alerted to his presence, he could’ve easily slipped past your detection.

The Stellaron Hunters are a formidable group indeed.

During the short journey, you recall the text message that pushed you into this vat of strife.

It was accompanied by an animated emoticon of the magenta-haired fugitive blowing a kiss.

You’ll be in need of me shortly. See you then xoxo

“Absolutely not!”

An exclamation of unrivaled proportion leaves you, accompanied by your palms slamming against your desk. Old-fashioned writing stationary clatters noisily in the aftermath. She stops the doomed descent of one pen and then looks back to you, unperturbed.

This woman is a shadow that follows her target persistently, devising fresh torments and sowing discord wherever she steps. To fight her is to do battle with a phantom, no attacks will land. The hopeless charade serves to tire you out. Still, your pride is wounded and without a balm to assuage the tender gash. It can’t scab over to heal. Again and again, it’s reopened, fresh blood washing over what had just dried.

“I haven’t finished my proposition,” she hums. She sits in front of your desk, legs crossed, her eyes shining an eerie shade. “I wouldn’t dare to ask so much of your resources if you didn’t stand to benefit as well. Our current arrangement has helped you cut down on costs, yes?”

You drum your fingers over the wood’s lacquer finish. “The word ‘arrangement’ implies cooperation, I believe extortion would be a better fit.”

“I’ll stand by my original phrasing. The IPC has abandoned all pretense of slowly creeping up rates on shipments to Eris; what they’re charging now will look generous in a few short Trailblazer Years. They want this planet dead and their past misdeeds to die alongside it.”

“Our current projections estimate we have at least two medium-length Amber Eras before we get to that point, by then, we’ll have countermeasures in place,” you droll out. These details have been drilled into your head ever since you became the head of this quadrant. “What proof do you have that the IPC will make such a drastic move? The other factions will lodge complaints, many of them use our… exports.”

You wince at the awkward phrasing of the word ‘exports’, knowing full well she’ll pick through any vulnerability like a vulture does a corpse.

Kafka leans forward. “By ‘exports’, you must mean Eris’ most sought-after natural resource. The tonic of the nectary.”

“I’m not allowed to discuss such sensitive material with outworlders.”

“You needn’t say anything, just listen,” she pulls out a vial from inside her jacket. The familiar sheen of glimmering gold within causes your breath to hitch. “Here I have a sample of the latest synthetic developments into the tonic, courtesy of Silver Wolf. The IPC is discreetly channeling funds into the Genius Society to revitalize the research effort.”

You bite back a laugh. “That knowledge is nothing new. They’ve been trying to replicate the tonic for ages; it’s a money pit. The last I heard, the closest they could get after investing billions of credits is a 14% match.”

“Try 70%.”

She sets the vial down and nods, encouraging you to take it. You don’t.

“... You can’t be serious,” your voice sounds far away, as if it were coming from another room. “You’re bluffing.”

“You don’t have to take my word for it. Have your alchemists examine it and come to your own conclusions.”

As a disciple of Destiny’s Slave, she’s confident that this will suffice to convince you, and loathe as you are to admit it, she’s right. The repercussions of this allegation could be disastrous. It’d be irresponsible on your part to not at least run it by the appropriate channels.

“What does this intel cost me?”

“Nothing, consider it a token of good faith. There’s a more pressing matter I hoped to bring to your attention, now that that’s out of the way.”

You raise an eyebrow. “More pressing than the future of my home?”

“That’d depend on who you ask,” Kafka dances around your apprehension to a rhythm no one else has ever composed. “It has to do with my companion. I didn’t bring him here to take in the sights, he’s to stay on a job until further notice.”

The mention of that enigmatic man brings with it a resurgence of the feelings you experienced earlier. It hit like a tidal wave, concentrated and suffocating. What would someone have to endure for their psyche to be saturated in such wretchedness?

“Alright. I’ll arrange for accommodations somewhere more discreet.”

“I think it’d be best if he stayed here, at the LOTUS-EATER.”

…

“What?”

Kafka has made many requests in the time she’s known you. Normally, she uses you as a point of contact to meet influential individuals or a warehouse of yours to store important items, but this is an entirely different beast. Those endeavors fester outside your purview. You give the push necessary and wash your hands clean of the implications.

To host a Stellaron Hunter in your most lucrative establishment could very well be the start of the end.

“After the events that unfolded earlier, you should see the potential advantages. You’re in a precarious situation. The IPC can’t place a bounty on you in an official capacity, but there are ways around bureaucracy. That attempt today won’t be the last.”

She lowers her voice to an enticing whisper. “And we both know you’re not financially sound enough to hire competent help. Take him. He’ll be yours if you permit him.”

How her melodious voice can invoke such a raw desire to argue is unknown, and yet, each fiery word fizzles out to ash on your tongue. In the same way you’d establish a link for the first time, you take the pieces of information at your disposal to test where the edges might align. The unusual fees on shipments, the supposed progress on the tonic, and the overall strain that’s been placed on every level of your business — the mosaic it forms is a crimson shade with a metallic scent.

You can’t die. Not yet, not when it’d cause so many to perish alongside you.

“This goes beyond ‘a token of good faith’,” you murmur. “Kafka… there’s far more to this, isn’t there? Just what are you planning?”

For once, the curvature of her smile is genuine. Blatant insincerity would unsettle you less.

“A gift for a friend.”

Upon LOTUS-EATER’s roof sits your favorite getaway, a secluded balcony.

There’s nothing fancy about the decor, if anything, it’s worn rugged by the elements. Paint chips off the three chairs and stubborn foliage congregates no matter how often you banish it with your broom. After ensuring you can only be contacted in an emergency, you wipe the condensation off the chair furthest to the right and sit tall.

Although you aren’t alone, you keep your eyes on the starry sky.

“I would like to apologize for the behavior I displayed earlier,” you take your time with the words, ensuring each syllable has a pleasant ring. “It must’ve been from the shock, although that’s no excuse. Please allow me to thank you properly.”

An icy wind whistles through. Once it finishes, you fuss over your hair, putting each strand back in its designated place. You grimace when it picks back up again.

“You can express your gratitude by speaking normally.”

Your head snaps in his direction. You examine his side profile through narrow eyes, impatience writhing beneath your skin. He pays your poorly masked hostility no mind. One by one, each muscle in your body relaxes, a domino effect you can’t bother putting a stop to. You slump down into your chair and cross your arms over your chest.

“Have it your way,” you sigh. Your capitulation earns you his piercing stare. “Pretty words or not, I meant what I said. So, um… thank you, and…”

Despite yourself, you try meshing together a more subtle phrasing, only for those infinite pools of vermillion to act as a successful deterrent.

“I don’t like being indebted to others, it’s a hassle. So, here is my offer. I’ll perform a Synalink on you, free of charge. Or a waitlist.”

Blade exhales sharply through his nose. It takes a moment to register that your proposition amused him more than it intrigued him. The perceived affront on your capabilities causes you to bristle. This is a rare opportunity you’re granting him, surely he must’ve heard of your abilities somewhere! People spend years trying to get an audience with you. The other Arbiters you employ are capable enough, otherwise, they couldn’t work here; but you transcend their combined efforts.

“There is only one thing I’d want to experience, it’s beyond your means.”

Propping yourself up on the chair’s arm, you scoff. “Hah, try me. Any emotion, scenario, for whatever length of time; tell me what you want to experience and I can make it happen.”

He doesn’t instantly rebuke you. You share a moment of silence — almost solemn, certainly more meaningful for him than it is for you. There’s a light tug of guilt that pulls at your conscience. Perhaps it isn’t him underestimating you, but not wanting to set himself up for disappointment again. If you’re going to be occupying the same space for an unknown amount of time, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get on adequate terms. This could be the door that’ll open that path.

You clear your throat to dispense the accumulating tension. “That clothing… you must have ties to The Xianzhou Luofu, or some experience with them. Are you familiar with Immersia games?”

“Vaguely. An acquaintance of mine plays them.”

You’re confident you could put a name and face to this ‘acquaintance’. For the sake of cordiality, you keep your opinion to yourself.

“I’ve never been fond of the comparison to my work, but I suppose it’s a decent touchstone. An Immersia grants the player a simulated experience predetermined by developers. There is a degree of immersion, hence, well, the name, but that’s barely scratching the surface,” you explain.

Reassessing his body language only reveals neutrality. You decide it’s better than blatant disinterest and continue.

“Traditionally, there are thought to be five senses in advanced lifeforms. These senses don't create the continuity of reality we experience, they just break it down into bite-sized pieces for easy consumption. Forming a Synalink is akin to overclocking a computer, not placing a hard drive in a different system. Your brain finds the stimuli I send it indistinguishable from the touch of your hair against your face, or the woody scent of incense in that jar.”

His eyebrows crease slightly downward. “A single glimpse into my mind was enough to send you recoiling, and still, this is an offer you’re comfortable making?”

You purse your lips. It’s a fair point.

“That was… different. Ideally, any link should be made in a stable environment to minimize disruptions. I had nearly been—” You cut yourself off, finding the sentence to be one you’d rather not finish. “—You know, so I wasn’t at optimal performance. That’s why we have private rooms in The Lounge.”

Your nostrils flare when he keeps regarding you with that impassive expression. Is his face permanently frozen? Does he need to be unpaused? You almost want to snap your fingers in front of him.

“Hey, you’d be less effective if you had to improvise and fight with, say, a spoon. Would your combat ability be based on that one irregular instance or the total sum of all your fights? Hm? What you witnessed earlier was my irregular instance. If you’re open to the idea, I can make it work.”

Blade shifts so that he can resume gazing at the sky. Before you can celebrate your victory in this one-sided battle of wits, he speaks up. His voice adheres to a softer creed.

“You are…” he trails off, taking care to select the proper description, “Remarkably strange.”

Your eye twitches.

This has been a miserable cycle. You had to breathe the same air as Kafka, deal with a drunk client that later tried to stab you, and you found out the main export that keeps your planet’s economy from total collapse might be duplicable. All things considered, you should be giving this guy the cold shoulder for the problems he’ll inevitably cause in your future. Altruism gets you about as far as jumping into the air and hoping that’ll transport you through space.

“Forget it, then,” you get up and twist around. The chair you formally occupied scrapes loudly against the ground. You don’t spare him a single glance while traversing the few steps that separate you from a long, well-deserved rest. Maybe you’ll be extra petty and lock the door so he has to remain here until you wake up. The olive branch has been extended, if he wants to take it and break it in two, that’s his prerogative.

You raise your hand to unlock the door when abruptly, something captures your wrist.

Your heart stutters.

There isn’t the softness of flesh or the warmth that radiates off skin. Instead, you feel the textured surface of bandages graze against you in a featherlight touch. You know the vice-like grip he’s capable of. You saw it in how he clutched the grip of his sword, like it was the only thing he was good for. Gentleness cannot come naturally to someone of his disposition. It’s an intentional choice that requires swimming against the tide.

Shakily, you exhale, hoping it’ll ease how your hands tremble.

When was the last time someone touched you? Ah… it must’ve been then.

You will the thought away.

Blade doesn’t tether you down for more than a few seconds, just long enough to ensure your attention is back on him. Your skin tingles where he came into contact with you. It’s a prickly, blisteringly hot sensation that starts at your wrist and spreads all over. You squeeze your eyelids shut in a last-ditch effort to recompose yourself.

He’s looking straight at you when your eyes reopen.

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” he says. You find it strange how quick you are to believe him. “If you sincerely think yourself up to the task, then…”

There it is again, that swelling of feeling, visceral to a degree every survival instinct screams at you to turn away.

You find yourself leaning in closer.

He rewards your burning curiosity with the unprecedented utterance:

"Show me what it's like to die."

#blade x reader #yandere blade x reader #honkai star rail x reader #yandere honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #yandere hsr x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #nexus #my stuff

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punkpandapatrixk · 2 months

Text

🪷Sacred Lotus Within You ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

‘If you only do what you can do, you will never be more than what you are now.’

‘I don’t wanna be more! I like who I am.’

‘You don’t even know who you are.’

‘What do you— Of course I do; I’m the Dragon Warrior!’

‘And what exactly does that mean—Dragon Warrior?’

— Po and Shifu’s conversation from Kung Fu Panda 3

SONG: Pure Imagination by Gene Wilder

MOVIE: Kung Fu Panda 3 (2016)

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 2]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

A hard Life is not always a divine punishment of sort⛈More often than not, the Universe’s most advanced Souls choose to be born—as Humans—into much sorrow and a perceived sense of limitation just for the joy of experiencing a personal breakthrough out of a cycle of—both—good and bad Karma🍄

Seen from a Soul’s perspective, all events in this mortal world are just drama. drama. drama~🎭It’s so exciting to co-Create massive stories with other Souls in this theatre of the Universe🎪This Play in itself, a spiritual evolution of sort for all beings of Love and Light🩰

This world is at best the dream of a Butterfly🦋Have fun; and have faith that in time all things bloom magnificently like a Sacred Lotus emerging from the mud🪷Ultimately, all of us, we bring with us only memories of our lifetimes when we are done playing our roles in this Grand Experiment of a Cosmic Drama💫

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – Peace Maker

VIBE: Master Shifu asking Po to teach him inner peace

seeds of beauty in you – 10 of Pentacles Rx

Encoded in your DNA is the very gift of healing itself. You were born into this world of stupid carrying seeds of peace-making. Yup, you were the kid who was always able to tell when a grownup was lying. Like, OMG, so disrespectful…they think I can’t see through such obvious lies? In fact, too many things were obvious to you because you are gifted with a keen ability of observation. We’re talking superhuman-level observation, baby~

With that, the world around you was often terribly dull. You’re definitely the type that wants to travel and see the world for yourself. Wanting to see what other people of different nations and races, customs and cultures, even religions, have to share about what this Life is all about~ You had A LOT of questions!

Alas… You soon realised that most people’s perceptions, priorities, and overall ways of life are low-quality at best. Your interactions with people, your observations of them, gave you almost nothing but disdain. People…are not intelligent enough. But more disturbing still…people are not noble enough in their pursuits of a good Life.

In your eye, most of the time, people don’t have enough integrity, character, or personality🤷🏻‍♀️

blooming in spite of muddy water – 7 of Pentacles Rx

If you’re often distressed by the state of Humanity, it is because you possess this divine ability to pierce through bullshit and reveal the true essence of all things. You’re a deep diver. You truly are a scholar. You’re the type that seeks to bridge between differences and clashes, so that people find a common ground upon which they could build a harmonious society. You most likely have a significant placement in the 7th House or blessed with a strong Libra/Venus aenergy~⚖️

Essentially, you’ve come into this world with an almost specific purpose of bridging differences between generations. All because your Oversoul was sick of watching Humans being fools amongst themselves. So you plunged into this world of illusions in the hopes of elevating people’s spiritual intelligence. Your unique gift of observation is piercing and high-vibrational and the reason it can bridge generations is that the wisdom you will develop as a person is both universal and timeless💎

You are an Ascended Master, you know. Like Po returning to the mortal world after defeating Kai. Like Gandalf the Grey returning as Gandalf the White after defeating the Balrog. All because you’ve got shit to do in this world of stupid—your wisdom is gravely needed! I’m not teaching you to be conceited or anything, but by means of technicality, you’re not here to learn anymore; you’re here to…teach🤣

tulips of happiness – Knight of Cups

No matter your age or their age, you’re here to teach the infantile Humans about inner peace and true, everlasting, sustainable, manageable, actually reasonable sense of Harmony🌷You do that by setting an example; by first bridging confusions and calming down chaos within yourself; then you talk about the walk to anybody interested enough to listen to you🌾

In this lifetime, as an Ascended Master playing Human, there’s probably a lot of heartache you’ve needed to learn to forgive. If you’re in your early or mid-20s when reading this, you’re most likely just beginning to learn it. You don’t have to act perfectly though. Healing and forgiveness are not about being or doing perfect. It’s perfectly OK, too, not to forgive—certain cruelties in this world are simply beyond absolution, ya know?🤬

What does truly matter is that you forgive yourself. Just yourself. You can forgive the situation. You can forgive the fact you fucked your way into this or that mess. Where applicable, you can give thanks to the experience and then move on to the next thing. Be glad about the fact that you’re still alive after all of the fuckery, and that you’ve enough self-awareness, and how that self-awareness has grown you as a person. It is such a beautiful thing to have grown up in the mental and spiritual~🦉

ESSENCE OF BEING HUMAN🔻💜

the script you chose – Silver Alchemist (Ramon Llull)

path of self-transcendence – Priestess of Healing

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – Pink Radiance

VIBE: Master Oogway sending universe mail to Li Shan

seeds of beauty in you – III The Empress Rx

Oooh~ You’re pretty~ That much I can tell🙊You probably are blessed with some significant Aries, Aquarius, or any Cardinal aenergy in your birth chart; could also have Venus/Moon in the 1st or 11th House~ And do you know why you’re bestowed with an outer appearance that’s easily considered attractive in this realm? Because you’re meant to have an audience🎙

You’re meant to be heard; to have a platform and be some sort of a leader. And since being pretty in this world brings a lot of privileges, your Soul chose to be born with this specific setting in your birth chart wHoA~ A pretty face gets attention more effortlessly and that’s just how it is with this world~🙈

So, you see that there’s meaning in having some forms of privilege whether it’s your face or your family/economic background, or even heritage or some special lineage thing going on in your Life🎰And yet, it seems you could’ve been blind to all this ‘upper hand’ and not see much value in your existence.

None of this has felt all that special…well, because you were born with it. It’s not special; it’s normal to you; and you definitely want to feel special…not really grasping others would kill to have what you were born with…🐞

blooming in spite of muddy water – XVI The Tower

In spite of all of the privileges that seem obvious and enviable to others, you yourself have not felt all that blessed most of your Life. There is this thing that people don’t understand about you: EXPECTAFUCKINTION. Expectation could kill, depending on situation, and depending on where you are in Life. In many ways, you haven’t really ever felt FREE in your beingness. You don’t really know how FREE truly would feel like. You can imagine it, but you don’t really know if that’s even real🤷🏻‍♀️

Whether it’s status, prestige, or simply beauty, sometimes you’ve felt victimised by the very things other people wish they had. They literally don’t know how suffocating it is to be wearing your crown~ You often feel like you don’t have autonomy over your own Life. In some instances, you may even have experienced your autonomy getting violated. And it’s so heartbreaking.

At some point in Life, you will suddenly and gradually lose access to all of these beauties and privileges, maybe even some of your talents, babe. All these things that came ever so naturally to you, once you’ve lost ‘em, you will die in spirit, and be reborn with a renewed sense of appreciation for the fact you have always, ALWAYS, been extraordinary👿

tulips of happiness – King of Swords

Whether you are a girl or a boy or straight or gay or whatever, you are an ally of the world’s Divine Feminine aenergy. Do not worry about losing your glory; it will aaalll come back stronger and sparklier once you’ve graduated the University of Hell a.k.a Saturn Return🪐

It is part of your Soul’s Blueprint to experience losing privileges, perhaps money, talents, friends, freedom, hair, weight, and everything else, momentarily. This period of your Life—whether it’s your first or second Saturn Return—can be likened to a pregnant woman who’s now restricted from drinking, eating, doing, or even being near certain things. She’s not so free, but for all the right reasons; she’s protecting her foetus.

This Saturn Return period of your Life where you’re experiencing losing yourself is like a pregnancy where you’re gestating a newer, stronger, clearer, more confident version of yourself. The restrictions put around you are meant to suffocate you further, enough for you to want a breakthrough. All so you can become a pure Pink Radiance of a miracle this miserable world needs, for that is your purpose for being born🌷

Shine on, Pink Diamond~

ESSENCE OF BEING HUMAN🔻💗

the script you chose – Green Historian (Herodotus)

path of self-transcendence – Priestess of Prosperity

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – Magic Worker

VIBE: Po teaching the tribe to be THEMSELVES

seeds of beauty in you – 9 of Cups Rx

Within you are seeds of a luxurious lifestyle that you ought to nurture slowly throughout the course of your Life. You may have come from a background of lack just to make this whole scenario more exciting (to us as Souls contrasts are exceedingly attractive when thinking of a spiritual breakthrough). With that, you could’ve grown up with lots of daydreaming about feeling fulfilled—emotionally fulfilled.

Though you may have daydreamed about luxurious environments and things and situations, at the core of everything, all you yearn for is a feeling of safety; stability; of having just enough…of being enough, in fact…all because you weren’t emotionally nurtured as a child. You were the kid who were neglected by everybody, both the adults and your peers.

You felt unseen most of your Life. But even those who acted like they saw you, somehow the view was inaccurate. You felt this way because you didn’t understand yourself either. Children learn about themselves through the feedback of their environment; so the ones who were mostly neglected…how could such children even begin to learn to comprehend their identity?

Because you didn’t really understand yourself, it was difficult to manifest properly. In your psyche, there are way too many threads of wishes that are tangled up, causing you to manifest clashing Realities…and then disappoint you…

blooming in spite of muddy water – XXI The World

The reason for this difficulty is that you needed to learn and discover for yourself the true Essence of being alive. You are essentially God’s messenger to help Humans overcome their addiction to material possessions. Omaigosh if you know how TikTok shopping culture is making people poorer and more miserable in the emotional, I’m sure this will ring a bell in your Soul Memory.

People who grew up poor are the main target of evil marketing because they crave that feeling of ‘having’. Sometimes, it’s a feeling of having things—trendy things; some other times, it’s a feeling of having friends—cool friends; and some tragical times, of having someone to love—which usually only translates to ONS or casual hookups without any real emotional connection.

Anyway, back to talking about material possessions though, there’s this:

‘Trying to be happy by accumulating possessions is like trying to satisfy hunger by taping sandwiches all over your body.’ – George Carlin

This, is a concept, a Reality, you’ve needed to learn and fully comprehend, and then unravel by means of your personal spiritual transformation. That way you can be an example and a guide to others. Reminiscent of Uncle George himself, you’re somebody who holds an Elder Archetype aenergy about you. You’re ‘worldly’ in the sense that you’re based, well-thinking, and most of all, you can embrace perspectives that are UNIQUE. You’re able to hold a knowledge that encompasses the whole of the Universe itself.

tulips of happiness – 4 of Pentacles

In a sense, know that you are a born leader. Though I sense, you may be more interested in being a thought leader🧠You don’t seem that interested in leading an envoy or a movement of any sort hahaha You’re a loner; you like being in your own company. After all, people are stupid and it’s exhausting to have to interact with them. And that’s all fine~

In the future, when everything’s said and done, you’ll meet your Soul Tribe—people who are just as weird, misunderstood, deep, sombre (probably), wholesome, complex, and loyal such as yourself🫀Your Spirit Guides are really saying: it’s perfectly fine for you not to extend too much compassion for those who aren’t worth your while; hoping you’d calm down some clashing ideas about your personality.

It sounds cruel? No, really; not everybody is worth paying attention to or share affection with. If you do that you’re only going to be sucked dry of Life Force. It’s a similar principal with money spending. Just because you see a lot of items being displayed with attractive, persuasive DISCOUNT signs, doesn’t mean you have to give your attention, or money least of all, to ALL of that. Got it?🤪

‘Even if something is on discount, if you don’t need it, it’s too expensive.’ – Love Marie Escudero’s husband, Govt. Chiz

ESSENCE OF BEING HUMAN🔻🧡

the script you chose – Green Physician (Paracelsus)

path of self-transcendence – Priestess of Intuition

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 2]

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