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#letters to wing
petaltexturedskies · 1 month
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Henry Miller in a letter to Anaïs Nin written c. September 1942, from a Literate Passion: Letters of Anaïs Nin and Henry Miller, 1932-53
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killyridols · 7 months
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delete forever by suyon huh, 2022, box made of hanji + paperpaste + fabric, 50 × 60 × 13 centimeters
"hi my dear, i'll never forget you. thank you for the unending love that we shared together."
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ravewing · 3 months
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wof infection au part 4! more under the cut; all parts will be tagged under 'fragariapathosis'😋😋
cw for scary imagery!! this one is really mild, the only vaguely scary thing are squid's awful doodles of an infected dragon. mentions of amputation, and some minor blood is drawn, but yeah this one is pretty tame. inspired by the mip infection aus on tiktok yayy
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ervotica · 3 months
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Ooh! Ooh! I got a cute one! So we know how Liam makes wood carvings, he’s given the reader one and this time she wants to make one for him as a surprise.. but she’s not the best at it. Literally, she’s got bandages on the tips of her fingers, a couple splinters and cuts— and when he sees that, he’s asking her what happened and she tells him she’s okay and shows the carving to him
pairing; liam mairi x fem!reader
warnings; liam calls reader 'my girl' (it's a warning honestly. i've decided it's his thing now), pure fluff, light descriptions of injury
Thick fingers reach for your hands across the table before you can hastily snatch them away, upturning your smaller ones until your palms are bared before him. Crimson tinged bandages adorn the very tips of your digits, and a shallow slice runs the length of your palm, thin shards of wood lodged just beneath the skin next to it.
"What happened?" Liam's asking, the worry that drips from his cadence only serving to tug at your heartstrings.
"Nothin' bad, Li. Promise." You're quick to reassure him, sore fingers curling around his own to deliver what you hope is a comforting gesture.
"C'mere," he beckons with a playful tap, patting the empty space next to him on the bench until you relent, utterly lovesick and unable to deny him anything he wants. You traverse the length of the table, coming to a halt behind the hulking man, throbbing hands resting on either side of his neck. His pulse thrums under your touch, his natural heat seeping into your pores until you have the urge to climb into his lap and fall asleep. His arm comes up and back to hook round your midriff, pulling your chest flush to his back in one swift motion.
"Sit," he teases.
You press pursed lips to his temple for a chaste kiss before peeling yourself away, needling beneath his arm and into his side; you fit like the piece of a puzzle, like it's where you've always been. You have, really.
"You gonna tell me what happened, my girl?"
You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, tilting your head to gaze up at him through your lashes.
"You know you made me that wood carving?" you ask, more meek than you'd expected your voice to come out. You busy yourself picking at your cuticles.
"Yeah?" he singsongs.
"Well..." Your bottom lip spills into a pout. It's unlike you to be so shy - Liam's terribly endeared. "I wanted to make you one of Deigh. It's a lot harder than it looks, and it's not very good, really. But..." Your hand disappears into your pocket and the fabric rustles with the sudden movement; then your closed fist emerges, clutching a mildly haphazard wood carving of Deigh. It's a little wonky in places, lines not as smooth and clean as Liam always manages to get them.
He thinks it's utterly perfect.
Taking the carving from your curled fingers, he smooths a thumb over the little dragon's face, crows feet crinkling affectionately. His dimple craters into the middle of his cheek with a beaming smile, and his forearm draws tight, anchoring you to his chest and folding you into his embrace.
"It's perfect. I love it, angel. Thank you."
"You really like it?" you ask, a warmth blooming and spreading in your chest even as uncertainty drips from your cadence.
"How could I not, hm? It's beautiful."
Your chin tips up to smack a wet kiss against the sharp angle of his jaw, arms twining around the broad expanse of his waist.
"You gettin' shy on me?" Liam mocks lightheartedly. You scoff, brows drawing down and pushing a crease between your eyes which Liam promptly smooths over. "I love you," he coos, pressing his temple to the top of your head. Heat rushes through you, white-hot and surprisingly pleasant.
"I love you, too."
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knifeforsale · 2 years
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VINTAGE PFIZER LETTER OPENER | LISTING
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raintailed · 9 months
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my design headcanons for @faelingdraws' in-progress wingcat mod
i enjoyed the old wingcat mod and i'm looking forward for their return! also their design is adorable
Notes transcript for the 2nd image:
unsure about wing pattern
more purple on back of wings
primaries and secondaries have a light edge
lower right doodle shows wingcat sunbathing :]
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pop-roxs · 2 months
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common occurrence in the hotel
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penofwildfire · 3 months
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Anyone wanna cry about Lloyd's years of isolation in the monastery with me
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lunamothghost · 1 year
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tell a friend to tell a friend,,, he's baccckkkk
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sugajimin · 2 years
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A - Z with #JIMIN
W: Wet hair
[cr: memories 2015: dwellingsouls,memories 2017/19:namuspromised]
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asexualbookbird · 21 days
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Saw a recent post and wanted to ask, you not a fan of Fourth Wing? Why or why not? No hate just interested in book discussion
DEEP BREATH
let me reblog some things, have my coffee, and come back,
short answer though: WHERE ARE THE DRAGONS IN THIS DRAGON BOOK
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ghibli-stims · 5 months
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🪶 -> Hermes (Greek Mythology) Stimboard !
📦 -> with related stims !
📬 -> rqd by anon !
📘 -> 🐑 - ✉️ - 🐑 / ✉️ - ✉️ / 🐑 - ✉️ - 🐑
🔓 -> requests closed ! rq rules !
DNI -> NSFW/Kink/Bigots/Etc. I'll Block You.
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petaltexturedskies · 1 month
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You don't realize it, perhaps, but you are turning these delusions and illusions of the past into criminal things. Relinquish everything. Stay in bed until you feel so shock full of energy, hope, courage that you bounce out of abed. You can only aid the world-if you still believe the world needs our individual aid-by retaining your faith in life. Your body may be weak, but I know you still have wings. You will fly again, once you believe there is a goal to fly towards.
Henry Miller, in a letter to Anaïs Nin written c. September 1942, from a Literate Passion: Letters of Anaïs Nin and Henry Miller, 1932-53
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ellies-enrichment · 9 months
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ervotica · 3 months
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liam mairi x reader where he literally loses it during the torture chamber over seeing her hurt
pairing; liam mairi x fem!reader
warnings; torture lol, graphic depictions of violence and injury, liam is a little unhinged (as much as a golden retriever can be) and also the best bf ever. also xaddy makes an appearance <3
a/n; for argument's sake, liam is alive and well (also for my sake bc he's my baby and i adore him) this is a little different to the plot in the books as liam isn't *technically* there during the torture chamber scene, so this diverts from the original plot. this is gonna get like 4 whole notes but idgaf because liam is taking up my entire mind atm i just want that boy to smother me in love and i can kiss his perfect face<3
Knuckles crack against the already swollen expanse of your jaw and your neck whips sideways awkwardly as blood fills your gasping mouth. Your ears ring, vision beginning to blur and blacken at the edges as Liam roars.
You can't see him for the soldiers crowding your line of vision, but the guttural sound that rips its way from his throat is unlike anything you've ever heard before. It's raw, full of untethered fury that no one would expect from a kind soul like Liam. But, then again, no one's seen the lengths he will go to to keep you safe.
"I'm fine, Li," you murmur, neck cracking as you wrench your head upright to reassure him. The swarm of bodies part somewhat, and they back against the wall; you watch him thrash against the restraints, teeth bared like a predator; it's a stark juxtaposition to his usual - docile - countenance.
“Touch her again and I’ll kill you! I’ll fucking kill all of you!” he bellows, voice permeating the otherwise relatively silent chamber. It cuts through you like glass, and you wince as another blow collides with your cheekbone. You feel it shatter, growling through grit teeth at your attacker.
“You have all the power here,” he croons. “Tell us what we need to know, and I’ll let you go.”
“Fuck you,” you seethe. “You really think I’ll break that easily?”
He cracks his knuckles slowly, one by one echoing through the empty room as he paces, his head tilting curiously as though he's enraptured by your resilience. “No. But he will.”
Your nostrils flare, eyes darting to where Liam’s still struggling to break himself free. His eyes are dark, cerulean replaced with black onyx as the rage consumes him.
“You underestimate us,” you say simply; your chin juts out indignantly. “We’re not telling you shit.”
Your ribs are next to break with a sickening crunch, and when you scream, the sharp yell of your boyfriend takes up all the space left in your brain. It's all you hear, all you can decipher through the thick cotton wadded into your ears, the only thing you can manage past the searing flames that set your body alight with agony. Your lids start to droop, lips parting to croak something indiscernible; and Liam's begging, pleading with you to stay conscious, but even as you gaze up at him through sticky, tear-soaked lashes, the darkness wraps its cruel fingers around your throat and you can't fend it off.
You don't know how many days it's been when your eyes peel open, glued shut with sleep. Every nerve ending in your body ignites, set aflame with pure, unrelenting excruciation. Your chest heaves and the movement triggers another cataclysmic inferno; a sob claws its way from your throat almost involuntarily, your body relying purely on survival instincts.
Xaden's standing over you in an instant, a warm palm cradled against the curve of your jaw to keep you still when you shout and thrash, trying to rid yourself of the unyielding pain that courses through your veins like liquid fire.
"Shh, shh." He's doing his best to placate you, but you're manic, eyes wide and frantic as you attempt to orientate yourself in the room.
"Liam," you croak. "Where's Liam?"
"He's okay. He's fine. I need you to stay calm, okay?" A tear slips past your clogged waterline and runs over Xaden's knuckle, his thumb following its downward path to brush it away.
"I want Liam," you wheeze, a pain that transcends physicality blooming into your aching chest. "Please."
There's a scuffle and a flash of blonde before Liam is crouching at your side, a thick fingered hand anchoring against the top of your head.
"I'm right here, my girl. You didn't think I'd leave you alone, did you?"
You shake your head vehemently despite the throbbing in your temples, your own fingers looping around his wrist to keep him close, to keep him touching you.
"It hurts, Li," you whimper, and it's the first sign of true weakness he's seen you expose in this long, painful week. You're safe to fall apart now, safe with the knowledge that he'll help you put yourself back together.
"I know. We just need to get you fixed up and you'll feel better."
He tips forward on his toes to press his cheek to yours, and the warmth of his breath tickles at the shell of your ear. His face turns, nose squishing into the soft flesh of your cheek, lips puckered in a kiss against the corner of your mouth. You feel the scab, long dried over, and the groove in his lip where it's split; when he tilts his head sideways to watch you, your eyes fix on it.
"You're hurt," you sniffle. "It's my fault."
"Oh, this old thing?" He waves you off, flippant as the tip of his finger prods at the dried skin. "Doesn't even hurt, angel. Don't you worry about me."
"I do worry about you."
You use the little strength you have left to turn on your side, tuning out Liam's abrupt protests until there'e enough room for two on the bed. He knows what you want from no more than a pleading glance.
"I can't-" he starts, and the complaints die in his throat when your fingers dig into the worn fabric of his uniform.
"I need you," you admit. His shoulders slouch in defeat.
"You promise to go to sleep?"
He lifts your tender body, propping you against a muscular forearm as he slides beneath you, and settling you between two thick thighs, your back to his chest. His warmth seeps into your pores and he feels you sag, only succumbing to the exhaustion now you know he's safe.
Fingernails scratch at your scalp and dimples crater into the centre of his cheeks when your head tilts to nuzzle deeper into the touch. The flaring pain resides to a dull - but manageable - ache.
"I'm tired," you say, muffled.
"I know, my girl." You don't miss the thrum of his pulse, the way it picks up when he catches sight of the deep bruises that mar your skin, the swelling from broken bones. He's angry.
And he's going to make them pay for this.
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lesbiankordian · 7 days
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ehhh
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(slimshadyta is hoshikawa's twitter account)
why does it have sm nazi germany imagery
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