#slender parasol

[liquidbird]

#slender parasol #I ate it! #not this actual one because it was full of creepy crawlers #but the other one I picked was 👌 good

[eleganttrickster]

Tag dump~!

#pampered at her finest; (self promo) #parasols fur and mischief; (aesthetic and musings) #drunk on sake; (crack) #beyond the tanuki; (ooc) #pranks that one enjoys; (ask prompts and memes) #sweet everlasting sips of sake; (saved posts) #fluffy tails and slender beauty; (self) #victims of mischief; (promotions) #yokai secrets; (headcanons) #temptations of the sinful kind; (n.sfw) #(again i know my tags are dumb cx )

[sugurizz]

(Smut/ NSFW +18 - minors DNI !)

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐 ── lover boy! Yuuta

Beach Boy! Yuuta who's playing handball with his friends. His soft dark locks and slender body caught your eye; running around shirtless as his tall frame prances around left and right. with his shiny lips curled up in a smile and his bubbly laughs resonating through the breeze.

Beach Boy! Yuuta who gets so shy when he sees that his ball landed next to you; the cute girl he's been eyeing up throughout the whole game. your sparkly asscheeks barely covered in your bikini strings and your breasts flushed against the warm sand really sent his brain spiralling.

He shyly grabs the ball as he approaches you, asks you if you'd care to join in. Then he furiously blushes when you redirect the question at him "Why don't you come chill under my parasol instead?"

Beach Boy! Yuuta who's hoping your parasol is large enough to cover up on both of you. you're straddeling his lap, messing up his hair and telling him that "he's the cutest boy you saw in the whole beach" as you plant kisses everywhere on his cheeks, chest, neck and lips. You giggle at every flustered whine he lets, until he grabs your hand, asking you to follow him...

Beach Boy! Yuuta who's eating your ass in his little cabin, smothering his face in your tender skin and drowning himself in the milky scent of your pussy. his blushy cheeks, cute eyebags and adorable noises make your pussy wetter for him.

Beach Boy! Yuuta who (un)surprisingly under his cute aura and puppy eyes hides the thickest cock that dangles alongside his left thigh..

"Oh, sorry...is it too b-big?" he mumbles when you tug down on his boxers, his veiny length springs free, almost slaps your cheek as it stands proud against his stomach.

Beach Boy! Yuuta who's now humping you like a bunny in heat. heavy breathes and frustrated sighs escape his pretty lips. face is still soaked in your sweet juices but he could care less..

"You sure you can take me?...don't wanna see you in pain".

"I'd die for your big cock, handsome angel." you whisper, grabbing his mushroon tip and smearing it across your pussy lips.

Beach Boy! Yuuta who's now into demon mode, the sweetness and shyness are long gone with his schlong bullying your pussy senseless. He groans over and over in your ear "you'll be my cute girlfriend...we'll feel good together..every day..."

Beach Boy! Yuuta who watches you with blown dark pupils as you squirt all over his stomach, fevereshly crying out a "Yess daddy.. I'm all yours! Make me yours!.."

Beach Boy! Yuuta who's so embarassed to see his thick cum spurt uncontrollably out his tip because of how hard you squirted on him.

"Sorry, I cum a lot...I'll bring a-"

He stares at you as you collect the ropes of seed he freshly spurted on your breasts, slowly lift your fingers then smear them on your tongue as you lock eyes with him.

"Come kiss me, Yuuta..."

Beach Boy! Yuuta who's shamelessly snowballing with you, making the loudest sloppiest sounds with his own cum bubbling on both your lips and dribbling down your chins. "One more round, angel boy?" You smirk as he struggles to hide his cute boner again...

#yuuta okkotsu #yuuta x you #yuuta x reader #yuuta smut #yuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta okkotsu smut #yuuta okkotsu x you #yuuta okkotsu x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk imagines #yuuta fic #toji x reader #toji x you #toji smut #jjk x y/n #jjk headcanons #toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro x reader #okkotsu yuuta #okkotsu yuta

[casimirt]

CAN WE PLZ HAVE MORE INEFFABLE HUSBANDSSSSS? Maybe like a silly little goofy one if you havent done that already?

Hahah for sure, I'm so happy people are enjoying these!

Dear Readers,

This one is called The Nanny.

The young master Warlock was an unusual child. Not because he was the son of Satan, or the son of an American diplomat, but because he was raised by his gardener and his nanny.

The pair in question went together as well as oil and water, and often confused the poor lad to the point of a tantrum. But, he was loved, and fed, and kept alive nonetheless.

Nanny Ashtoreth was a harsh woman, in both looks and attitude. Her tall, slender form often reminding Warlock of a spider. And Brother Francis the gardener, who he often caught staring at Nanny, said they should respect all living creatures. Even the arachnids.

Nanny was also a classy woman, and would often remind him of such. She wore long dark dresses, even darker shades and often had a hint of red somewhere on her outfit. She did however like to mingle with 'the lower class' as Warlock was told, and she spent a fair amount of time teasing and whispering with Brother Francis.

He was a stout man with somewhat of an unfortunate face. But as he would tell you, it's what's on the inside that counts. Nanny Ashtoreth said you could find out if that's true, by cutting someone open. Warlock had never liked that idea much, and neither had Brother Francis.

Warlock, like many young children, had a lot of questions about life and about love. He was often sat between Nanny and Brother Francis, who would give him sage advice on their two opposing views of the world. It typically started with a bit of light teasing and flirtation, and ended with Nanny hissing and Francis trying not to swear. If he was honest with himself, he had his suspicions that they secretly liked each other. So secretly that they'd rather chew a cyanide capsule or have their teeth pulled before they admitted it. But, deep down, deep, deep down they had some strong connection.

Most days the three of them would walk the gardens together, discussing the literal birds and bees; and in one awkward occasion, the metaphorical. Over the years Warlock was privy to the slow but budding romance between his two mentors. From the flowers Brother Francis would grow and then pick, to the cookies and cakes Nanny Ashtoreth would bake. Needless to say they were an odd couple, but a sweet one all the same.

As the young son of Satan, and son of an American diplomat grew, he became more aware of and more meddlesome in their relationship. Often acting as cupid or some other romantic messenger between them. From passing notes, to 'parent trapping' them when the situation allowed.

Once he even got them to sit through a full date before they realised just what it was. Warlock had said he'd meet them both under the willow tree and upon the picnic blanket for lunch. It was only after they had eaten half the food shared the bottle of wine, that they had realised this lunch was not intended for a 9 year old boy.

Nanny had given him a stern telling off and a slap on the wrist after that little stunt, and Brother Francis and stood there hands on hips as she did so. Hmm, perhaps allowing them to get close and gang up on him wasn't a good idea after all. It was a while before he tried to set them up again, and this time he planned to be more careful about it.

The opportunity presented itself when a painter came to give the pool house a fresh coat of paint, and allowed young Warlock to help. This meant Nanny Ashtoreth had to be outside to supervise, and it then meant Brother Francis wouldn't be far behind.

The painter was about a quarter way through the job before he started paying Warlocks' Nanny a fair bit of attention. She was sat on the garden wall, with a black lace parasol shielding her from the sun. Warlock was busy on the far side of the pool house, writing crude words in white paint. Brother Francis, who had spent the past half hour trimming the same hedge, was watching with a scowl upon his face.

Being a tall, dark and mysterious woman, Nanny often caught the eye of many gentlemen that visited the estate. So much so it rather bothered Brother Francis, and he always made sure to have an excuse as to why he was hanging around.

Warlock, now bored of his painted profanities decided to stir the proverbial pot. He glibly mentioned to the gardener that the painter had a crush on the nanny, and that it might well be reciprocated...

Bradley, as the tradesman was named, had complimented Nanny multiple times on her clothes. Including her darkened sunglasses covering most of her face. She was a severe looking woman, but that was just what Bradley liked. He had liked it even more when she had abruptly, and rather rudely, shut him down when he suggested she remove said glasses to show him her face. Something about the hissed tone to her voice told him he had better drop the subject. Bradley had continued painting and Nanny had continued watching. So did Brother Francis.

Brother Francis in his distracted and flustered state, accidentally trimmed more than he intended off the hedge in front of him. He composed himself, as to not make any more mistakes, and turned to young Warlock.

"Young master Warlock, of course the painter likes Miss Ashtoreth! She's a very-"

He paused and thought carefully about what to say next. After all, he couldn't have his young charge knowing how he really felt! The young charge in question didn't need words to know how Brother Francis really felt.

"-Captivating woman. And it's not up to me to tell her who she should or shouldn't talk to."

He then muttered something under his breath about wishing it wasn't the painter, of all people. Collecting up the flowers he had accidentally cut from the hedge in his frustration, he tied them in a red ribbon that seemed to come from thin air.

With a pat on the head and the promise of payment later, he handed them off to Warlock to deliver. The dark haired boy made a b-line for his Nanny Ashtoreth, who seemed bored by the painter's constant nattering. She didn't much care for uninteresting conversation. And, if she was going to accept praise and flattery from anyone, she'd rather it be from the gardener...

Warlock ran up to her and dropped the bundle of neatly tied flowers in her lap, earning a curt smile. She already knew who they were from, and she already knew why. Shooing the child away, she carefully drew a single flower from the bunch and tucked it behind her ear. Thankfully the shade from her parasol masked the colour of her crimson cheeks.

#fem!crowley #nanny ashtoreth #brother francis #good omens fandom #aziraphale x crowley #good omens #ineffable idiots #ineffable partners #ineffable husbands #crowley and aziraphale #good omens 2 #ineffable #idiots in love #renew good omens #warlock #good omens fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic

[channwie]

𓍯 NONVIOLENT COMMUNICATION ⋆ GOJO SATORU & GETO SUGURU ─ ⋆

maybe satoru forgot he wasn’t the only one who got left behind .

no wc ⋆ fem!reader ˖ implied satosugu x reader ˖ angst, hurt no comfort ⋆ notes ˖ wdym suguru’s not coming back?

He stands in the doorframe of your newly bought studio apartment, cardboard boxes piled on top of each other and scattered across cold white tiled floors.

“How much more stuff you gotta bring up?” He asks, dark sunglasses perched atop his nose, snow white brows scrunching up as he looks around the barren place you’ve told him you’re about to call home. He’s judging you. He really doesn’t know any better, you can’t even blame him.

“Just the silverware and sharp stuff.”

You’re just as unenthused about this clean slate as he seems to be. Something's missing. You both know that.

But when Satoru Gojo asks you to pack your life away in boxes taped shut and cushioned with styrofoam, you do it.

There’s a pregnant pause in the room, arms crossed over your chest as you lean against a pristine wooden bookshelf, a gift from Nanami, empty and lounging in the passage of what’s to be your living room. From one hopeless friend to the next.

You don't even own enough books to fill it.

You hear Satoru thinking of words to say.

“Did he call you?” Gojo asks, a pale and slender middle finger pushes his sunglasses up, blue orbs hidden behind tinted lenses. He never liked it when anyone looked into his eyes for too long. Is it that? Or is he steeling his nerves for more?

No, you know better.

He doesn’t want you to see his eyes when he asks you. He doesn’t trust what they’ll say.

Satoru can’t lie to you with those eyes.

“No, he hasn’t called.”

It’s been days since the incident. Almost a week.

You woke up on a random Sunday with ten missed calls from Satoru and a text that made you drop everything, abandon your post overseas training new freshman and book a flight to Japan the next day.

‘Suguru left.’ It said.

And you, of all people knew, Gojo couldn’t be left to his own devices. Not when Suguru, the one person you and Satoru held dear, ran off overnight.

He hums in response, shrugging your words off with a chuckle, one that doesn’t quite meet his eyes, doesn't rumble from his chest like it should, and you dig your fingernails into the wood of the bookshelf.

I'm not strong enough for this.

“He’ll come back.” You say, and it comes out way shakier and forced than you mean it to. “He always does.”

Suguru wouldn’t leave us like that. You’re insulting him when you talk like that, ‘toru.

Suddenly, your heart betrays you, and you wonder if spending your third year as a transfer was worth it. Maybe if you’d been there—

You're not Suguru.

You can't be what he is to you and Satoru. Geto’s mind is stronger than yours, his resolve unshaken, his temper stalled, his love for you, his love for Satoru—

“He blocked my number.” Satoru says, and you retract your nails, without sparing a glance towards him. You scoff, thoroughly unamused. “No, he didn’t.” You oppose, stalking towards the empty kitchen.

The conversation ends there, Satoru.

Suguru would say.

You wished you had the strength.

But Satoru is persistent, and he pushes his body forward off the doorframe, posture slouched to hell as he follows you. “My calls won’t even go through.” He says, and you ignore him, busying yourself with sorting through a miniature looking cardboard box on the marble counter.

Satoru calls your name and you ignore him again. You dig through the half full box of styrofoam and resurface an egg timer, decorated like a penguin. It’s old, you think. Where did you even get this?

Satoru slides his palm across the counter, contemplates holding his tongue, it’s cool on his fingertips and he pulls back, intruding in your field of vision, forcing you to look at him.

What would Suguru say to you?

There’s no cord. Is this thing electronic? You shove past him, moving to the parasol shaped kitchen table to test the thing out.

“Don’t pretend like I’m invisible.” Satoru complains, his footsteps lag behind you. “If you’d just listen to me—”

Ah, you remember now. No wonder the stupid thing’s so old, must’ve been a dumb drunken gift from Suguru. He only ever gifts quirky household items when drunk.

“And just, I don’t know,” He groans, creeping closer behind you. “Call him from your phone or something.” Cold hands take his sunglasses off, and rake through his hair in frustration.

You click a few buttons on the silly little device, it doesn’t do anything. Did Suguru ever give you a manual with this thing? You inspect it a little closer.

“Will you just fucking look at me, please?”

Satoru never shouted at you. His hand grasps your wrist to turn you around and the egg timer clatters to the ground, the plastic hitting the floor makes a sharp plap sound.

You barely react for a moment. Satoru’s hand is cold on the skin of your wrist, his fingers wrap at your pulse point, and you tilt your head up to look at him— his eyes are dim.

In your gaze, for a split second, he sees Suguru, and he drops your arm as if he’s been burned.

You still scold him when you aren’t even in the room, Suguru.

“I’m sorry—” Satoru begins.

You cut him off, “It’s fine.”

It isn’t.

He’s hurting, Suguru.

Satoru takes a breath. Suguru would kill him if he saw him lay a hand on you like that.

He calls your name, and you shake your head. Satoru takes a step back and you bend down to pick up the egg timer.

He’s not stable, he knows that. Suguru’s been gone for days, he knows that. You don’t deserve this, he knows that all too well.

Something inside you grows tired of housing memories of Suguru in the corner of your heart while Satoru looks for him in every crevice of the earth.

Come home already, Suguru.

Satoru calls your name again, it’s softer, he’s mulling over the syllables on his tongue.

“I’m sorry.” He repeats, and turns away from you.

You’re silent, back turned to him as you kneel on the floor, egg timer with bright painted penguin eyes looking at you.

“You’re not the only one suffering, Satoru.”

It’s a punch to his gut, and he exits, fresh wound reopening. You loved him too, didn't you?

Sorry, Suguru.

I can't even protect her while you're gone.

The egg timer goes off the moment Satoru heads through the door, and you grip it so tightly in your palm, you’re afraid it’ll break.

The three of you have run out of time.

[medievalcellphone]

gender neutral fungi themed names for the modern and tasteful baby: scurfy twiglet, dog stinkhorn, snowy waxcap, white dunce cap, nitrous bonnet, oak loving gymnopus, fawn mushroom, butterfly collybia, deer shield, fragrant funnel, clouded agaric, mica cap, pink edge bonnet, scotch bonnet, brown roll rim, pluteus petasatus, rufous milkcap, armillaria sinapina, red lead roundhead, bleachy entomola, honey fungus, humongous fungus, wood blewit, red stinkhorn, pale brittlestem, camembert brittlestem, russula cerolens, split gill, st. george’s mushroom, meadow waxcap, slender parasol, poison pie, parasola auricoma, earthy inocybe, chocolate milky, stinky squid, tall psathyrella, witch’s hat, grey knight, weeping widow, greville’s bolete, luxury cap, false parasol. Blusher, field blewit, lepista nuda, dead man's foot, banded mottlegill, big sheath mushroom, goblet funnel cap, petticoat mottlegill, grisette, horse mushroom, red edge brittlestem, yellow staining mushroom, springtime amanita, candy cap, wood pinkgill, peach colored fly agaric, scalycaps (pholiota terrestris), liberty cap, milking bonnet, mower’s mushroom, mycena galericulata, pluteus cervinus, nitrous bonnet, salt loving mushroom, firerug inkcap, common puffball, tyromyces chioneus, purple laccaria, panaeolus antillarum, oak bracket, bloody brittlegill, winter russula, penny bun, red chanterelle, lilac bonnet, rosy bonnet, field mushroom, Person

#mushrooms #me #hehehe

[dyrewrites]

Before Deluca -- Vengeance, mon amour Pt.1

Looks were all we received on our way off the ship, but it was difficult to keep so far apart. And not only for me. I caught Lucient stepping closer only to jerk his arm back to his sides. He wriggled it about, shifting it hold his parasol with both hands, then to hold his own arm and finally settled it behind him—hand balled in a fist at the small of his back.

He glared when I chuckled, then smiled at the sight of my own hands firm behind me. Tilting, he chuckled back, likely noticing how firmly I held my wrist to keep those hands there.

I miss you on my arm, I whined to his too distant touch.

And he smiled at me, my perfect treasure, I ache to be there…but it's unwise.

“How,” I kept to a whisper, arms tighter behind me to keep from touching, grabbing. “Most here are merely human, aren’t they?”

“Mm,” that damned smile sang for my lips, curling as he saw how mine twitched for it, “thinking so low of them already, are you?”

“Low? No, but I don't fear them,” I walked ahead, continuing backwards to face him, to lean as I reminded, “but I fought a shark,” illustrating with fingers out, wiggling them at his raised brows and waiting smile, I added, “two of them…and I won.” He began giggling as I returned to my place beside him, hands again tucked behind me, “I fear no man now, my l—Lucy.”

“Well, Vicki, shark notwithstanding,” he teased, but still he smiled, twirling his parasol—to busy his hands those salacious thoughts told me—as he sighed and explained, “these men have guns. Have you ever been shot?”

Realizing I’d not even seen a gun, my tone dropped, “No, I have not.”

“How about hung?” He followed, no longer twirling the parasol but staring blankly forward, his hand not quite at his throat—but too close.

And I sought brevity once more, through snark, “Well, I have been told—”

“Chut,” he turned on me, stepping too close and eyeing the smattering of people in the fields around us before returning to a safer distance, “take this seriously.”

Laughing, I drew too many eyes and coughed it silent before whispering again, “I'm sorry my—Mm—Lucy, it's difficult.” Quieter still, as we separated further to allow a man to pass us—eyeing us as he did—I admitted what had been growing since we took the pirates, and had solidified on our hunt in Seville, My love, I…I have begun to see them more as meals, as prey and I don't, I don't seem to mind it.

The gleam in his eye, the heat that flashed, I could have lived in it, died in it—and done so in utter bliss.

His thoughts came quick, clipped, and eager, There's an alley coming up, to the right, when no one is looking…join me. He blurred the second the thoughts reached me, rushing faster than any eyes could follow—any but mine. And I scanned the area, making certain all other eyes were elsewhere before I followed him.

A single step into the alley is how far I made it when he shoved me against a wall.

Smiling with the force of it, I couldn't help the giggle as Lucient's slender hands slid down my arms. Or the gasp as he gripped and pinned my wrists above me, cool lips tracing my neck.

Deliberate the words I used to ask, “Was it something I said?”

“None of that mouth,” he scolded, “let me enjoy you for this stolen moment.”

Short as it was, footsteps in the rocks outside separating us, but as no one peeked I pulled him into my arms, “My love wanted me so badly?”

“Mm, always,” he whispered, holding my waist, kissing my lips too soft, too quick.

“And?” I pressed, but he only continued to tease with that softness, “I can hear you mulling, my dream, despite that fog you've kept up,” lifting his chin, forcing him to see me, I asked, “is there more to this Tiger and Dog that you've not shared?”

Nodding in my grasp, he kept his voice low, “There is, but that's not why I wanted you in this alley,” he petted my cheek, smiling so sweetly, “treasure that hunger of yours is magnificent and while I am glad to hear those morals of yours are fading…I don't want to waste your teeth on déchets.”

Smiling, I returned his kiss, if a bit rougher and promised, “I’ll try not to agitate the garbage then, mon amour.” Turning him toward the road as he angled to steal more kisses with my use of his tongue, I wrapped my arms around his waist and leaned to set my chin on his shoulder, “Now let's go eat some fottuti maghi.”

Laughter sputtered from him as he left the alley, with me a few steps behind, and we walked the remainder of the winding path to the house in smiling silence.

There was little of note to see—sparse as the colonies were then, and the one we were in not even fully named or recognized yet—mostly it was scattered brick homes and carriages in various states of packed.

A few children played with dogs among the trees. Dogs that barked wildly as we passed, spurned on by Lucient's hissing at them, which confused—yet I’d decided not to press for answers then, sorrowful as his mind became the closer we got to our targets.

But then women waved.

“Good day, Aubie!” A plump older woman called to Lucient, drawing me to the stitching on her lap and flooding my thoughts with more memories than were useful.

So I buried them.

“Afternoon, Aubie,” the woman beside her added, hidden though she was by the massive quilt they were sewing, “are you visiting the folks today?”

Accents both, harsher than Lucient’s, but still decidedly French—yet neither addressed him in it. And I became too curious.

Lucient stopped me before I could ask, “Don’t look at them, they don’t matter.” And please, my love...please don’t ask.

I nodded and ignored them, mirroring his eyes as he set them firm on the dirt beneath us, and the ache to hold him burned hotter than the sun in my veins. Those questions begged and pleaded, concerns at the familiarity, the name. But I asked none of them, for he asked me not to. Focusing instead on the dirt and rocks of our path, the afternoon sun shining above us, and the distant sea breeze fluttering through soft green leaves all around.

A breeze mixed, every few strides, with the burning stench of gunpowder and heady aroma of blood—and the sickly-sweet smell of meat. I told myself these were hunter smells, that the distant screams in a language I'd never heard was my imagination—I still do.

Part Two

#writeblr #writing #novel #before deluca #vengeance mon amour #snippet #this one is safe #once again i must apologize for any mistranslated words #i have three sites i use to check and they all disagree about every other word and i want to scream

[anghraine]

if you had totally free reign for one movie, how would you adapt p&p? total authenticity or any updates? some kind of combination?

A combination, for sure.

Honestly, there are two concepts in my head—one a period piece and one modern. But if I had total control over just one, I would have to go with the period version. My adaptation would be pretty close to this wish-fulfillment P&P I laid out a year and a half ago, except in my Dream P&P Adaptation of Ultimate Destiny, Darcy is a lesbian, Elizabeth is bi, and the casting is ... not carelessly color-blind, but very much more diverse than is usual for Austen adaptations without existing in a Bridgerton la-la-land.

Some highlights of stuff from the link, for those who don't want to read through it all:

It's set in the mid- to late-1790s, when P&P was first drafted.

The actors are age-appropriate: 20-somethings playing 20-something characters, 30-somethings for the Gardiners, etc.

Elizabeth is slender and dark-eyed, Jane is noticeably more beautiful and plump.

Miss Darcy smiles! Repeatedly, and not tight, faint smiles, but something Elizabeth could credibly recognize in a portrait painted five years earlier.

The scene where Elizabeth gets annoyed at people for interrupting her Darcy angst by wanting coffee is definitely included.

Mrs Bennet is neither a shrieking caricature nor actually reasonable; we feel Mr Bennet's charm without shrinking from his fundamental failure(s).

Lady Catherine is also not a total caricature, but has a lot of force of personality and is somewhere between 50 and 60.

Pemberley should be grand and idyllic but not ornate—a very clear step up from Longbourn and Netherfield, but not a palace.

We’d get some of the moments when Miss Darcy talks affectionately of Georgiana, as Elizabeth remembers in the book.

Justice for Elizabeth’s parasol and watch!

Miss Darcy is often ill at ease, but neither shy nor brooding. She is fully dressed at all times.

We feel the pathos of Charlotte's situation without downplaying what agency she has.

As you might guess, the plot would be as close to the novel as the basic premise allows.

#also sorry about how belated this is >_> #but yeah if i'm charge darcy is going to be a lesbian lol #i don't make the rules except no i would definitely make the rules and that would be one of them #and i don't want something as white as austen adaptations typically are #anon replies #respuestas #austen blogging #a treeful of monkeys on nitrous oxide #pride and prejudice 2kwhatever #long post

[oddballwriter]

EMH Guys w/ a Vampire S/O

Warnings: mentions of vampires, drinking blood, biting. Evan and Jeff are lowkey freaky with it and so theres some suggestive content at the ends of their parts, watch for the bumper.

Author’s Snip: I’m having vampire brain rot yet again and I also don’t see anyone else making shit where the reader is the vampire so I guess I have carry us yet again.

Notes: Just as an fyi. Unlike my vampire with HABIT, you are a vampire who cares about humanity and people because that makes sense for them and also fuck you I make the rules lol. (lh) Also I’m writing this as an in general thing to their characters.

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy!

꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦

Evan

He gets it

He has an ancient multi-dimentional demon that likes to use him as a host to commit literal crimes against humanity and torture and kill his friends, and you have a hunger for blood that you always need to feed and that doesn’t really discriminate on the term of humanity and morals

So yeah he kind of gets it

Evan kind of levels with you a lot when you’re having a rough time considering you still have your humanity but need to do terrible things to feed something that you possibly didn’t ask to haveHe knows what that’s like

He will be your personal parasol and do everything in his power to keep you out of the sun 

He will also swear off eating anything garlic if you’re gonna be near him and or wearing silver around you

He also always invites you cause you know, you can’t enter houses cause all the doors and windows have a cross patterns on them

That is unless he left a window open though

He does get a little freaked out when you have to feed off something but he’ll get used to it

He asks if you have any special abilities like being able to shape shift or hang upside down 

He also asks what the turning process is and how you become a vampire

▀▄▀▄This bit is a bit suggestive and spicy so beware and MINORS GET OUT ▀▄▀▄

He’s asking this because he wants you to bite him, but he doesn’t know how if that’s how you turn, different iterations have different ways people turn, he needs to know

Listen he’s already got an actual demon in him who already has a blood thirst, he doesn’t need one of his own after fucking

But yeah, I’ll say it. The boy wants you to bite him

He thinks it’d be hot as fuck

He swears that he’ll be fine, he’ll tell you when he’s getting light headed

But you do need some self control because he might get too into it

He tries so hard to talk you into it 

I mentioned that he has a secret thing for marking in the hickey post okay??

Evan’s lowkey a horny and freaky bitch 

The fandom agrees with me on this

He is however, respectful if you don’t want to do that

Vinny

He’s scared of you a bit

Listen vampires don’t get a good wrap in fiction so who knows wtf you’re like

He makes you swear to never pull shit like try to bite him, which you keep by

You weren’t really planning it anyways

Vinny knows that he kind of shouldn’t be too scared because he’s seen what HABIT and Slender can do/have been doing so he kinda shouldn’t be scared of you but he still is

It takes him a while to get used to you and realize that you’re not a threat to him in anyway

He then asks some questions without being too invasive or too stupid

That’s when he learns that you kind of just have this never ending blood thirst that you just need to feed every once in a while

He does feel slightly inconvenienced that you can only come out at night cause of the sun

But he knows you can’t help it

Once he learns about the door and windows thing he lets you know that you’re always welcomed to his place so that you don’t need to ask every time

He does make you swear that you will only use doors and never use a window

That sounds dumb but he felt like that was necessary to clarify

He let you bite him once just to see what it felt like and it freaked him out too much

Even if he gets used to you, he’ll always be freaked out when you drink blood in front of him so he asks you not to do that 

Jeff

He’s freaked out about it but calms down once he realizes you still have your humanity

He thinks you’re pretty neat and will ask a bunch of questions

He asks what the vampire stories got wrong or right

He has trouble sleeping so he kind of doesn’t mind you only being around at night 

Similar to Evan, he makes sure you are as safe from the sun as possible and that he doesn’t have things that can hurt you

I’m not saying that you can, but if you wanna imagine that you can turn into a bat, he 100% holds you and has you in his pockets and hair all the time 

And I know that it’d be comfy af in there 

His hair looks s o f t

He won’t asked how you became a vampire in case its a bad memory for you 

 ▀▄▀▄This bit’s suggestive and spicy too MINORS GET OUT ▀▄▀▄

As soon as he finds out that (at least in the sake of this post) a bite doesn’t mean a turning...

He also very much, wants you to bite him cause he thinks it’s hot as fuck

It might not be a marking thing like with Ev but he’s still into it

Let him have this please

You probably need to practice or have some self control too cause he might get lost in it a bit

He won’t make you if you don’t want to either but if you’re down this man is giving full consent

Just do it in a spot like his collar cone or shoulder 

#everymanhybrid #slenderverse #slenderverse x reader #everymanhybrid x reader #emh evan #emh habit #emh jeff #emh vinny #emh evan x reader #emh habit x reader #emh vinny x reader #emh jeff x reader #vampire reader #vampire au #vampire yn

[imsparky2002]

Batraculous: Macabre Bat

Character Name: Eri Tanaka

Miraculous Hero Name: Macabre Bat

Appearance: Eri, known as Macabre Bat, carries a striking and dramatic appearance. Her waist-length, straight black hair flows with an air of elegance. She has moderately pale skin that contrasts beautifully with her almond-shaped brown eyes, although she often wears violet-colored contacts to add a dramatic touch. Eri possesses a petite and slender build that complements her gothic style. She dresses in full gothic lolita attire, adorned with black and lace, and she's rarely seen without her signature parasol.

Bio: Eri prefers she/her pronouns and proudly embraces the label of "gothic lolita." Despite her gothic appearance, she is incredibly perky and energetic, exuding a loud and friendly demeanor. Her manner of speaking is dramatic, which suits her well for theater but can sometimes make social interactions challenging. Eri serves as Juleka's motivator alongside Rose, encouraging Juleka to embrace her gothic self and affectionately referring to her as the "Queen of Darkness." She also has a passion for special effects and dreams of working in CGI when she's older.

Batsuit Description: Macabre Bat's batsuit is a dramatic and gothic masterpiece, reflecting Eri's love for the dark and theatrical.

Cowl: Eri's cowl is designed to resemble a porcelain doll's face, complete with intricate gothic makeup and violet contact lenses. It adds to her theatrical persona and contains a built-in voice modulation system, allowing her to project her voice dramatically and command attention. The cowl also has high-tech optics that enhance her night vision.

Cape: Her cape is a flowing black garment with lace trim and intricate patterns reminiscent of Victorian-era fashion. It billows dramatically as she moves, adding a touch of eerie elegance to her presence. The cape can transform into shadowy tendrils that grant her limited teleportation abilities, allowing her to navigate through shadows with ease.

Armor: Macabre Bat's armor is form-fitting and adorned with gothic motifs, such as bats, skulls, and roses. It's made from lightweight yet durable materials, providing protection from physical and akuma threats while allowing for flexibility and agility. The armor includes retractable bat-shaped blades on her forearms for close combat.

Gadgets: Her utility belt contains gadgets suited for her gothic style and love for special effects. Eri carries dark smoke capsules that release an eerie, black mist to obscure vision and create a foreboding atmosphere. She also has a specialized holographic projector that can create ghostly illusions to confuse and deter akumas.

Macabre Bat's batsuit is a work of art that embodies Eri's gothic style and dramatic personality. With her passion for theater and special effects, she brings a unique flair to the Miraculous heroes of Paris, adding a touch of darkness and mystique to their ranks.

Thanks to ChatGPT for assistance. Make sure to reblog, reply, post and ask for more. @artzychic27 @msweebyness

#eri tanaka #eri #miraculous ladybug #miraculous #batheroes #batraculous #batman au #batman #superhero au #theater kids

[faintingheroine]

“At last the stair creaked. Bülent was at the front, opening the parade, holding the flag that had been born in his little brain, trying to walk with the mien of a sturdy standard-bearer by puffing himself up. This flag had been created by attaching the short dress that Nihal had taken off, to one of Adnan Bey’s walking sticks. Bülent had slung it over his shoulder and let it wave as he marched.

‘Let no one be left. Don’t crowd the way, the parade is coming through. Ah! If only there were a trumpet…’

Nihal and Bihter were following behind, then came Beşir, with Nihal’s sheet over one arm, and that parasol that resembled a large, black rose, and then with wide smiles on all their faces, Şayeste, Nesrin, and Cemile. With Bülent’s noise, even Şakire Hanım was leaving Hacı Necip in front of the revolving cupboard and looking out through the drawing room door, and, touched by seeing Nihal in this assembly, now in the attire of a young girl, was dabbing at the corners of her eyes.

Adnan Bey and Behlül had stood up, and were waiting with smiles on their faces. When Nihal stopped on the last stair, as if afraid to take another step, Behlül said, ‘oh, who is this? Who is this little, slender, elegant lady? I assure you, I do not recognise her…’

Bihter laughed. ‘Allow me to introduce you: Nihal Hanım,’ she said.

Bülent was now going mad with excitement. Throwing the flag to one side and the stick to the other, he was hopping around his sister, shouting, ‘Nihal Hanım! Nihal Hanım!…’”

(Chapter 5)

@literatureismyentirepersonality Nihal’s this rite of passage, her wearing the “sheet” in Deverell’s translation, takes place on the stairs, just like her last fall from the stairs.

(I didn’t catch this parallel, I have just read it in a book about architecture on Google Books)

#aşk ı memnu #aşk-ı memnu #nihal #architecture

[cordeliaflyte]

Answer 1: "Actually, madam, that novel is mine, not Mr. Wintermint's. I find the work of Fifi Buttercup most illuminating."

Answer 2: "Deplorable, madam."

Answer 3: "I prefer not to say, madam."

#tally ho

[moony4pads]

#mushrooms #mushroom #fungi #polls #poll #fungus #colourful fungi #aesthetic mushroom #cute mushroom #toadstool #my polls #for you #forestcore #cottagecore #aesthetic #cute mushrooms #tumblr polls #bug race #polling #fairy ring #fairy

[baggedbloodandmilk]

childe x fem!reader where — reader wants to please the gods, yet he stands in the way

𝘈 𝘚𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘗𝘢𝘺

The brumal weather caused her to recoil back into the warmth of her cloak. Harsh winds nipped at her skin as she trudged along the barren landscape. She briefly remembered the conversation with a merchant from a few weeks prior as he detailed the famed beauty of the barren wasteland known as Snezhnaya. Although the conversation prevailed as a rant of tommyrot in her current situation—seeing as the man spoke with such speed, she wondered if he’d spoken pangrams. A stark comparison with her sobersided personality.

As the cold pecked her rosy cheeks and her footfall left footprints that disappeared within seconds, her mind drifted elsewhere. Away from the harsh weather of this barren country. Her mind led her through the corridor of memories, where the sun still shone on her rich skin and kissed her hair with gentle breezes. Although futile in an attempt, she tried to substitute the feeling of snow on her bare feet with soft sands from the beaches she once walked upon. Her endeavour to remember the sunny afternoons painting her memories was inefficacious. The fanciful refection that once frequented her slender fingers froze from the frigid gale that turned her pale skin red.

She was never one to be fond of the white snow. It all seemed too blank for her. She always favoured the vivid greenery over the cold and unforgiving whiteness of snow. Although she’d never find herself admitting it out loud, she found some beauty in the unsympathetic sparkles. Only when the little light that peaked through grey clouds hit.

She remembered the feeling of her parasol in her hands, lightweight and carefree. It was a beautiful shade of yellow with soft specks of blue and pink. A gift given to her by a significant other, a promise made between them and her.

Promises, however, are meant to be broken.

No matter how much it hurt to see the copper-haired youth scowl at her very existence as if she were the bane of his hatred. When not too long ago, she was his reason to suspire.

The fleeting touches of his warm fingers against her cold skin, his hair tousled in a way that made it look effortlessly flawless. There was no sight of blemish on his porcelain skin, save for the red marks left after passion-filled nights under the stars of Liyue.

She left all her memories behind, like an ort: left behind when one was done with a heartsome meal. She left behind the quick glances he'd give her as they walked across each other and the soft touches he'd bestow upon her figure regardless of their location. She left behind the delicate words that were said and kept and the stolen kisses he'd planted just before disappearing. She wondered if those confessions were just mondegreens: fickle and irrelevant. 

She desperately hoped they were only that. To save herself the despair, of course.

At times, she caught herself wondering if her memories were of someone else, a cruel joke put on her person. The learning of gramarye wasn’t common but those who indulged in its practices were deemed death-dealing. Especially when those who lost themselves to the intricate beauty of pooling darkness, found it entertaining to prey on those who had no such need for indulgence. An ad absurdum, indeed.

She found herself never wanting to be charmed by such practices, deeming them useless in her case. Too many memoriter aspects within the sinuous language. 

Shuddering from the onslaught of harsh breaths sent from the heavens above, she wondered if the Archons were seemingly displeased with her. Or, they were enjoying her predicament with an embroidered chalice filled to the brim with liquified curses. She detested the Archons. No matter how one put it—how they created the world and gave everything a purpose—she despised them nonetheless.

And to think, she stood at the forefront of their army, head-to-head and toe-to-toe with those who once called her their own. 

Those who once called her a Fatui.

Bondservant, odalisque, ergate.

She was no stranger to the sortie of malign idioms, yet the difference was between those who said it.

They were nothing but sounds in the wind when said by strangers. When they were spoken by him, her resolve would falter. His lips which only spoke in honey and all things sweet once before were now spitting daggers at her figure.

Even now, when he called upon the delusions to aid his case in slaying the “ophidian-creature” he sought after. 

It hurt. More than it should have. More than she led on. She wasn’t supposed to feel such pain in her heart.

She wasn’t supposed to have a heart.

Yet, here she was; against her better judgment. Facing the Egyptian-blue eyes that once looked at her as if, if he could, he would have propined the world in her hands. 

Within seconds of the first call, she moved with adroitness. Her steps were as light as leporine creatures, but her eyes were vulpine, anchored at the blue eyes of those opposing her front. She moved gracefully, ducking and dodging the continuous specks of steel-headed spikes embedded in slender twigs. 

Perform with diligence, little mortal. And we shall endow you with the premiums of the heavens above.

Oh, the taunting smirk of that silver-tongued, geo-wielding jackass really did its job in irking her calm resolve.

You must remember, you are not made from the same filth these beings were made of, he’d remind you. They are but mire under the grace of our footfalls.

Why couldn’t they let you go?

Why must you be doing their bidding?

Why must you be the only one to feel the pain?

To feel the pain of having the blood of your beloved coat your blade, words falling on deaf ears.

“All but a small price to pay… 

…to be able to sit amongst the divine.”

Unspoken words were left afloat,

"I love you, Ajax."

#ao3feed #fanfic #quotev #wattpad #genshin impact #genshin fanfic #genshin angst #genshin x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x y/n #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #genshin childe #genshin childe x reader #genshin impact childe #genshin tartaglia x reader #genshin tartagalia #genshin ajax #x reader #reader insert #childe x reader #childe x y/n #childe x you #tartaglia x you #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia x y/n #mentions of zhongli lmao #if part 2 is ever made it’ll probably be a yandere zhongli ngl

[rayningblood]

Can we Start from the Beginning? | Katie & Michael | 07.18.22

“And tell me why'd you have to have such a damn good taste in music? If all my favorite songs make me think of you I'm gonna lose it.”

The song that sounded through Katie’s headphones as she walked along the sidewalk of South Park’s main street was hitting too close to home for her right now. She’d left her apartment fairly early this morning to get to J.K. Records shortly after they opened. If Katie had to guess, it was shortly before 8 am. 

The store usually got their new shipments at the first and the end of the week, and if Katie was lucky, she’d get first pick at their new inventory. It was a weekly ritual she had during the summer: wake up early, dress her best, walk to the shop, and buy a few new things. She would then usually take her purchases home and spend the rest of the day listening to the new stuff and committing it to memory. 

Today she had chosen an outfit that she felt incredibly powerful in. It started with a black and white striped tank top tucked into a black skirt with a heavy duty seatbelt belt fastened at the top of her waist, the excess hanging just past the hem of the skirt. She wore a long sleeved fishnet top underneath the tank top and a pair of simple black thigh highs on her slender legs. A chain hung from the belt in a loop on her right side and jangled with each step she took. Thick metal bracelets hung on both of her wrists and her ever present necklace swung slightly on her neck as she walked. To complete the outfit, she had chosen to wear her signature platform boots. She held a dainty black parasol above her head to protect her from the sun. She looked scary and intimidating and just how she liked it.

The old portable CD player she was using to listen to her music was stuffed into her plain black canvas backpack that hung on one shoulder. Katie had to be careful not to jostle the bag too much as she walked or else the music would skip. It was a mixtape she’d made a while ago and with each song that played the more frustrated she got. Did every song on this fucking CD have to remind her of Michael?

She reached the records shop after another fifteen minutes of walking. Katie closed the parasol and leaned it against the storefront so she could take the headphones off of her head. She let her backpack slip off her shoulder so she could pack the headphones into the bag and turn off her CD player before she walked into the shop. Slipping the backpack back up onto her shoulder, she lifted the parasol back up and hung the curved handle on the strap so it hung by her side. She pushed the door to the shop open and was pleased to see that she was the first customer of the day.

Fuck yeah.

Katie made a beeline to the usual crates she searched to rifle through and see if there was anything in the bins that she hadn’t seen since the last time she had been here. While her hands idly flipped through the records, she let her mind wander. Was Michael working today? Would he think she was stalking him?

Katie didn’t know. Since they spoke the night she dropped him off at her apartment, she’d wondered a lot about that. She still didn’t know what he meant by wanting things to be normal between them. It had started to cloud each of her thoughts and she had found herself thinking about him often. She wondered if he thought about her too.

@vitriolicbiblioclast

#ic #katie/michael #gothrayne #thread

[pwlanier]

JEAN-BAPTISTE-CAMILLE COROT

FRENCH, 1796–1875

LOUISE HARDUIN 1831

Louise Harduin was fifteen years old when Corot painted her portrait. Staring directly out of the picture, she commands our attention. The artist has presented her sitting alongside a dirt road, as if resting from a walk, and has taken great care to record her fashionable attire—gray redingote, white neck ruff, slender shoes, parasol, and hat. Corot made fewer than fifty portraits throughout his career, this one painted at the suggestion of his childhood friend, Harduin’s uncle.

The Clark