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spencerscoven · 1 day

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the alternate … art donaldson

Art has a proclivity for giving attention to his enemy. He hates her— but particularly hates how she has Patrick wrapped around her finger even more.

warnings ; smut .. slutty drunk freshman art x Patrick's gf, infidelity .. unedited for now! oops!

It didn’t take much time for Art to settle into Cornell— it wasn’t just the tennis or the girls, of which he quickly learned were rather women, or even the academics. His hesitation on his attendance was especially foolish, especially in moments like these as he rolled over, crushing the red solo up beneath him. The buzzing in his jean pocket persisted, just like it had for the last five minutes before, causing him to utter another affirmation to ignore it into her mouth.

Maybe the women had one or two things to do with it.

"Maybe just get it?"

"Why?"

"So you... can tell them you're busy."

He hummed into her mouth as the girl above him detached herself, moving to grab the stitch of her top to remove it as he tilted his hips to reach for his phone.

Patrick.

His calloused hands came up to push her thighs over his hips, sitting up to read the rapid series of text Patrick had sent. And Art soon saw— was still sending. All of them ranged from different ways of him asking Art to check up on you, letting your attendance be known. Patrick's texts detailed the simple request of him checking to see if you were taking your alcohol well. Another saying he hoped you wouldn't get roofed. And one that blatantly asked that he didn't let any of "those Ivy League assholes" fuck his girlfriend.

Art rolled his eyes, resentment laced in his actions as he muttered condolences and pledged to "be right back", his large hands taking the knob of the door and peering out into the dark hallway to find you. When a look wasn't enough, he left the room door slightly ajar, stepping completely into the hallway filled with red cups, colored lights, almost sidetracked by his team that pulled him by the neck and fought to put a drink in his hand. With a light smile still gracing his face and beer in a can, his eyes wondered up to your face, watching as your lips wrapped around a bottle of Corona, some leaking out the side of which you swiped away with the back of your hand. He felt the same kind of resentment he usually felt when he saw you when Patrick visited fill him from his chest out. He watched as you leaned against the wall talking to someone. He took in your skimpy skirt and top with less resentment, though.

He especially didn't like it when the next time he looked for your face, you were staring at him, eyes hooded and smile nasty and condescending.

"He told me to look for you."

"I know." You raised your eyebrow dismissively, almost wanting to laugh at Patrick's good intentions. He knew what you'd say about Art. Just like you assumed what Art said about you, yet he asked him anyway.

"And by that, he means look after you." Art leans in, lips close to your ear as the music sounded. You roll your eyes as he lingers there a moment too long and you expect him to say something more, but he never does.

"We both know I look fine."

It takes a beat before he responds. "We both do."

"And we both know you don't want to babysit."

"But I'm a good friend."

"I've known corrupt politicians that are better friends than you, Art."

He sways away from you, facing the rest of the party as he rolls his eyes with the kind of insularity he only reserved for you, tipping his head back to finish the rest of his beer and tossing it towards the trashcan, only to miss.

He turns to you, irritation flaring as he stabilizes himself on the sticky wall behind him by holding your hips. It's something you're willing to let go of, your breath clicking as he whispers: "You smell like pot."

"It's a free country."

"Okay," he challenges, pursing his lips as he leans closer. "What's in your cup?"

"What? Yours and Chelsea's not good enough for you?"

His upper lip raises, in a look of both disgust and toleration as he grasps your wrist, forcing you to bring your own bottle to his mouth. The contents of it are mostly able to be swallowed but the rest flow from the corners of his lips, down his chin, to his throat where his Adams apple bobs as he swallows. You wipe it instinctively, causing you to both freeze for only a moment. He shutters before he opens his mouth again to slur,

"Chelsea?"

You look at him quizzically, your mouth opening once, twice, three times, only to say nothing but erupt in laughter that rocks your head backwards and your body closer to his. Art looks around frantically, his mouth tilting downwards as he looks around, grasping your hips forward and gritting his teeth as he repeats himself.

"Chelsea? What's the fucking joke I'm not getting?"

"The girl that you just— my fucking god, Art. I know you look the way you do, but you couldn't even remember her name?" You tilt your head towards the doorway, insinuating the room you're sure his cologne still lingered in. He groans, his head falling forward in a laugh as his right hand on your hip runs up the side of your torso, his head spinning.

"I'm not a very good date, am I?" You can nearly taste the alcohol on his tongue and you're out of laughs, humor gone as a consequence of being so close to him. And maybe he's too drunk to realize it's happening, but you're too cross to care when his thumbs rub circles on your hipbone, of which he had to invade underneath your waistband to do.

"I almost finished my night like this." It's so quiet that you're unsure if it was for you to hear. But it doesn't matter, as your hand runs up his arm and shoulders, eyes following over the ripples.

"This is not the same."

Your other hand trickles down to his waistband, guiltily skating over his bulge as you feel his pocket for his phone.

"Arthur, Patrick told you to check on me. So, tell him I'm okay."

"I told him that I'd check on you. I also told him you were a bad idea, like I always do," He saws it lowly, as if it's not supposed to slip out and has only found it's way because of his level of intoxication. You scoff, pushing him backwards as you're suddenly slightly more sober. You rock back and forth, eyes rolling back, but the distance is not created before you can hear him finish: "but I never said he didn't have good taste."

You don't like that it's still said in the way only drunk and resentful Art could deliver it. "You're not a very good fucking friend."

"To who, you?" He makes it his personal duty to invade your space, his face in somewhat of a snarl. You know that some would see this as uncharacterized for Art, but it's most familiar to you. It feels somewhat like home. Albeit, a house fire, but home.

Your first encounter with him was glancing behind yourself at move in, and seeing his blonde locks brushed back by calloused hands as he looked at you, then to your racket.

Your second encounter was only minutes later, when he stood next to his raven haired friend who asked for your number as he rolled his eyes with a knot in his jaw, as if he didn't find you worthy. He tugged on the shirt of his friend, telling him there were better things to do. Better, he had said.

And that never made much sense to you. Because in your relationship with Patrick, there had always been the inconsequential three.

"You're not my friend," You begin, mind calculating how many rooms through doors of Cornell's largest finals club you'd have to go before finding somewhere, anywhere, that would fit just you. "Never was."

Art's only silent for a moment, nose flaring and eyes squinting. his shoulders are tense, and if you were to look down you'd see his hand balled in a fist.

"What? What now, Art?"

"You never gave me your number."

He watches as your eyes furrow in confusion, the heat in your eyes rising rather than deflating. Without your bottle, your hands search for something to do. They resort to touching yourself in the same places he just had, your fingers running down your torso quickly, your hip bone. When you touch your shoulder is when the two of your gazes meet once again. Art watches through blue as you nod your head slowly in both horror and understanding.

You're quick on your feet. He's watched countless of your matches, even when he had no business doing so. But he is too. So when a short string of curses land out of your mouth and you march down the hallway, he's on your heels.

And all you can think is that you know his gaze better than any other. It wasn't something you intended but through these sporadic games, your body and soul had bargained to be familiar with Art more than any other. If he leaned against the net or lunch table, it became the kind of resourcefulness of movement that was so particularly him. It was rare you called on him, yet necessary when it was a matter of Patrick. He was always there, steadfast and urgent. It'd be days before you learned of the lecture he missed because of it. And while your boyfriend was off being a pro, he never was slow to tell you how good his female counterparts around him were, while you were "only barely whopping college ass".

But somehow he was always there. You found his gels and handle tape in your tennis bag. You had more than half your dining points still because you were just "a casualty of being present when he was buying his own lunch". And it all made you feel as if he was just very...

"You're a fucking con artist," You shoved him against the door of which he only narrowly made it "A fucking wolf in sheep's clothing."

It made you even angrier that he was stronger than you but willing to let his body fall back, lips pierced in a thin obedient line as his back hit the door repeatedly under your assault until he grasped both your forearms, holding them closely together. A wince escaped your mouth, his strength relenting and becoming lighter but still he held you. He leaned down, attempting to meet your face that now focused on the hardwood.

"I know I'm the bad guy. Still, what's it gonna be?"

You didn't look up at that. But you did at the vibration that sounded in his pocket just seconds later. There were always three.

Art doesn't waste a moment to release your arms, wrapping his own in an enclosure around your head to reach your lips, tugging you impossibly close to him. You can't help but not move-- letting him twist your head and invade your lips. It's only until you release a small moan you latch back.

After Art's kiss, your night was haunted, distorted beyond your eyes' power of correction. So when a pair of lips landed on yours again, you came back home. You gave in.

His hands ran down your body, invading each and every corner of you. Your hips, your waist, the small of your back, the back of your thighs which he used to hoist your body upwards and against the doorframe, caging you. As the wet kisses sound on your neck, you look past his head to the room you two now occupied, no bed. Just various pieces of miscellaneous covered in cream sheets. When you look towards the window, releasing another whimper as you feel his middle and index finger prod at your cotton panties, you can see dust aligning with the moonlight.

Like everything else he does, he's good at the way he touches you. No, instinctual. The very thing that sometimes is missing from his tennis. Art's fingers curve and level themselves out inside of you, yet he leaves his palms frigid, rubbing your clit back and forth with the surface of it. It makes you all so weak, Art murmuring your name as the two of you lower to the floor, you're suddenly reminded of the urgency of the matter.

"Art, I need--"

"I know,"

I know,

I know.

He repeats the sentiment into your skin and it almost makes your eyes brim with tears as you feel his bulge covered by denim slot against your soaked underwear. The feeling is delicious, so you excuse your decorum when you buck your hips against his. You watch as he detaches himself from you, the depth of his blonde hair twinkling in the moonlight. His lips and chin are swollen and wet from your messy kisses that appeared to be more tongue than anything. He lifts your hips to remove your skirt on his own once he catches the way your eyes watch him, still. He looks at you, sick with the same fever, but now you're not quite sure what this illness even is.

His hands move to tug your shirt up, yet you push his hands away, making them double up on his belt as both of you scramble to slide his jeans below his ass. You also help him when he leans to grab your right leg, sliding it up and against his hip as he sways above you. You watch as he thinks, only for a moment, places a feather right kiss on your knee, whispers something you can't hear, and promptly shoves his dick inside of you.

The force of it slams your head against the door, the hinges rattling but the surprise of his size makes it so you hardly notice. You close your eyes immediately until you're struck with the realization that you hope this never happens again. You hope you're never drunk enough, or lucky enough to have your boyfriend's best friend's dick rocking you back and forth ever again. You near your eyes open, willing to at least let yourself savor what little you have now, gazing in the middle of you two where you can see him disappear inside of you repeatedly.

Art huffs above you as your name escape his lips repeatedly as if it hadn't been the first time. You find yourself unable to cope, grabbing the hardwood until you realize there's not much give. So you resort to firmly biting his shoulder between your gasps and yelps. which only surges him on to drive into you faster, his hips snapping and the sounds of both your flesh filling the room.

You feel his clammy hand reach for the hair at the nape of your neck and you allow yourself to submissively follow regardless of your confusion. Art's breath mingles with yours as he asks:

"Is it good?"

You don't answer.

"Does it feel good?"

Your brows furrow together as you nod your head assertively up and down, chest heaving uncontrollably. He meets your lips and it feels as if he's kissing you solely for himself as he drags his hand on your cheeks and forehead, ridding your face of your sweat and hair. His other hand circulates your clit with a firm hold and you feel the familiar sensation approaching. Your skin felt both as cold and hot as it ever had, your teeth penetrating your bottom lip, biting Art in the process.

"I don't think we should do this.." You spit out quietly in intervals, because it feels like the right thing to say right before you come all over his cock and he leans down to look at the mess you've made in bliss. The results that it gives are fruitful, as you feel his fingers' relentlessness on your clit still. But you can tell he's struggling to stay where he is, trying to milk every moment he can inside of you.

You use your feet to push his hips back, arms reaching above your head as you untangle your limbs. Your legs remain sprawled out on his thighs, of which lay on his calves. The silence between you two is like molasses, and he stares at your core as you brush your socked toes against his abdomen, then cock.

You see a frown form on his face, but you're also met with the needy repeated rise of his hips that meet your foot and help you grind against him. You watch in awe as his eyes don't leave yours, confusion filling the air. You bring your feet faster, rubbing against his tip and watch as Art's whimper fills the air and his cum shoots to his lower stomach and your sock, his eyes closing, throat repeatedly bobbing as he rides his high. You watch as the thrusts into you become increasingly slower until they stop completely and the two of you are left still once again. You marvel in the way it seems almost as if he always gets what he wants. And Art isn't quite sure of what to make of you at all anymore, with his ears ringing and chest warm.

On his knees, he cascades towards your body that slumps against the door frame. He moves towards you slowly at first, hesitating if you wanted any of this at all. But you don't decline the warmth of his chest as he pulls you in, wordlessly. You let him bury his nose to your scalp as he takes you in.

And you both agree that if this may be a story of tonight alone, you both might as well melt indistinguishably into it once again.

#art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson smut #art donaldson x you #art donaldson /reader #art donaldson /you #challengers movie #challengers 2024 #art donaldson fic #art donaldson imagine

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freyito · 22 hours

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Hello! How are you?

I got an idea~

Can I request Boothill with the Vidyadhara reader (male, but if you want, you can use gn) ?The reader is always calm and quiet, but gets very nervous and blushes when Boothill flirts with him or hugs him (Secretly he just loves it) . The reader's tail wags nervously. And he also has sensitive horns.

If you don't like the idea, then feel free to skip my request!! (♥´∀｀)／

✭ pairing(s): boothill x male vidyadhara reader

✧ a/n: THIS IS SO CUTE!!!!!!!!! i got it the night before my job interview i think so i owe it all to you anon for getting hired on the spot. my last fic as an unemployed man... i got this job so i could whale for boothill tho. lol.

🗒 cw: male reader, vidyadhara reader, SMALL 2.2 SPOILERS, itty bit of lore building (made the vidyadhara look a little more like the yan siblings from arknights), just fluff, not proofread

✎ wc: 1.4k

ꜱᴄᴀʟᴇꜱ & ᴍᴇᴛᴀʟ

Being a Galaxy Ranger, Boothill is well-read on the species of the universe. Sorta. Given the lack of his education, a lot of what he learned was through word of mouth or having someone explain it to him, aside from text to speech.

Aside from the Galaxy Rangers and his home world, he is the most versed on the Xianzhou, seeing as they follow Lan, as well. But that doesn’t mean he won’t treat it like it isn’t a spectacle, and the Vidyadhara have always been intriguing to him.

He’s only met a couple, namely Dan Heng, and Lady Bailu, the latter only in passing. He’s sure he’s met another somewhere, and there’s surely a Vidyadhara Ranger as well. But none of them stick out to him like you do.

He’s only visiting the Luofu, there to pick up some information about the IPC from some shady courier. He doesn’t mind this, as long as it’s honest work, and he’s been in contact with this courier for quite a while. The benefit of becoming a cyborg is that when his contacts are long life species, he has a trustworthy ally for quite a while.

The problem was, the courier had told him to get it from a cycrane in Aurum Alley. Which was all fine and dandy, normally, Boothill remembered the Alley to be rundown and quiet, dead, even. But when he’s met with a stream of people like it’s a shopping mall (which it is), he was taken aback. How was he supposed to pick up information when the Alley is so… lively? The courier reassures him that it is okay, to not act suspicious, and boy, does Boothill mess that one up.

For the first time ever, he’s fishing out a letter from the cycrane’s box, sweating with the most guilty look on his face, like a dog that had just stolen some food off the counter. He stuck out like a sore thumb, as opposed to the business owners and recipients who frequented the roost. Paired with his outworlder appearance, it’s no wonder that a couple of concerned citizens came forward, even if it was just to watch.

Now, Boothill didn’t want to be considered wanted by the Xianzhou Alliance. Not at all, his deal was with the IPC and he’d rather not have the cloud knights tailing him whenever he visited. But all thought processes stop when he spots you. Whatever price the Cloud Knights puts on his head for this info is nothing in comparison to just how stunning you look to him.

He does his best to brush this incident off as not being able to find mail, and decides a couple more days on the Loufu wouldn’t be too bad. He spends the next few days attempting to court you, as he says. Really, it’s just over pretentious flirting. You do your best to ignore it at first, you think he’s just some awe-struck outworlder, but each day that goes by, your walls crumble.

You don’t return anything really, simply give him little looks and grin and bear it. But every time he says ‘Ain’t you a pretty thing?’ whenever you simply enter his line of sight, you start to feel your cheeks heat up.

Of course, Boothill notices. And he only increases his antics. You’d be attending to your duties in the skyfaring commission and he shows up to interrupt your shift, throwing all sorts of cheesy one-liners that make your head spin. There are times where you just can’t keep up and you blush so hard you fizzle out, your mind working on auto-pilot and making you turn away on your heels.

He starts to show up on your breaks, too. With food he’d think you’d like, (which is any food he buys on the Xianzhou, essentially) and the gifts start there. It’s… thoughtful, really. When he can, he shows up to Xianzhou with something in hand from wherever he’s been. It can be a rock to the most coat you’ve seen. Which, he learns, clothes aren’t exactly the thing to buy you. Not that you would look bad in them, but he decides that Xianzhou attire really does fit you. It is then that he notices the color that extends from your claws to your bicep, and he realizes that you’re ‘pretty all over’. (His words, which don’t fail to make you red in the face.)

When he starts giving gifts, that’s when your tail starts wagging. You curse your body for betraying your want to be calm and collected, which ultimately leads to a life bound by how easy it is to fluster you. Of course, Boothill notices. He thinks it is just too cute, and good Aeons, it takes him all his strength not to cup your face and say that directly to you, to make sure you hear him. Not that he won’t say it regardless.

With all of these instances, he only becomes more insufferable. And you find yourself falling for his charms. It isn’t so bad that you have someone to eat with on your breaks, and someone who’s so eager to see you when you’re working, (even if it disrupts your work Madame Yukong seems okay with it) even if he’s a very high-profile target.

And boy, he can TELL. You’re still a flustered mess around him, anytime he calls you cute, or handsome, or pretty, any silly little pet name like ‘buttercup’ or even just ‘darlin’’, your tail is wagging furiously. You do your best to hide your sheepish smile and your blushing face, but Boothill always finds a way around it. At some point, he starts grabbing your hands and pulling them away from your face, staring into your eyes. That is the death of you.

From then-on, it seems you two are semi-official. Boothill wants so badly to ask you to be his boyfriend, but he lays back with just how shy you are. He pampers you, takes you out on all sorts of dates, from just shopping to the most romantic little tea dates, where the artificial sun sets and it feels like it’s just you two. He loves it, he revels in your reactions. Ever time your cheeks are dusted pink, to where your tail won’t stop wagging that it feels like a hazard, he’s laughing it off and making it even worse.

He grows bolder with touching, too. He starts to greet you at your work with back-hugs, whispering little compliments in your ear while your tail wags, a distinct ‘wap, wap, wap’ sounding everytime it hits the leather of his chaps. He blows kisses at you when you have to focus on your work, he holds your hand any chance he gets, he plays with your hands, too. Compliments the color of your scales, traces your palm, anything and everything that can and will make you blush more. Doesn’t matter if you two are months into this flirting, he’s got you blushing.

The day Boothill plans to ask you to be his official boyfriend, he gets overly interested in your horns. Standing outside the Skyfaring Commission, he catches you before your shift starts. The artificial sun is just rising, and the streets are empty. He stands in front of the Commission, hat off and held to his chest. It’s like a scene out of a movie, really. He starts off with your name, slowly slipping from his tongue, his twang much heavier now, reaching out to you. It feels like his eyes are sparkling– like the world is sparkling, more like. He’s akin to a…. What's the name… Knight of Beauty. You heard the trailblazer talking about them with Yukong.

Your head spins, and all you can stammer out is a ‘y-yes!’ in the middle of his speech. You can’t tell if you can’t take it anymore with how warm your body is running, or if you’re just… eager. Both feel equally embarrassing. Before he can kiss you to seal the deal, he runs a steel finger against one of your horns. A jolt of electricity runs down your body, making you yelp and whine, and in the middle of that, he kisses you, holding his hat up to shield your faces from the few people out this early. It’s a soft kiss, just as romantic as his silly display of want, and he smiles against your lips. His hand comes down, slightly carding through your hair, to cup your cheek.

You try to walk off your embarrassment as you enter the Commission, taking note to text him later about what just went down. Of course, Yukong notices, but all she gives you is a soft chuckle and a smile. Thank Lan.

DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN, REPOST ON ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

#⁺◟freyito #boothill x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #boothill hsr x reader #boothill x male reader #hsr x male reader #honkai star rail x male reader #boothill hsr x male reader

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erisvansserra · 3 days

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The Witch and The Viper | Eris x Reader

A/N: hey guys, this is a random account I made so I can post my fanfics without stress hahaha.

Story will be based in the middle of ACOWAR. y/n is kallias’ daughter from a one nightstand he had years prior to meeting his mate, she lives in winter with her father but travels prythian to learn more about the other courts. This will be a slow burn story, not really enemies to lovers but eris does do some stupid stuff that pisses y/n off later.

Annyyyways, I’ve changed soommme things in the OG story. I hope you enjoy this series xx (if you want to message me feel free I need other people to talk to about ACOTAR)

Triggers ( dead parent, mentions of abuse, scars )

—————-———————————————————-----------------------

It was a brisk winter morning when y/n started her patrol of the winter court border, a fresh blanket of snow crunched under her bare feet as she tiptoed on the cusp of Autumn. As per her usual morning routine, she passed Eris Vanserra on his horse with two other high fae, as he too, did his morning patrol. Their eyes locked for a split second, a polite dip of the head from each of them in greeting, then they walked past each other. This is how it went for 120 years, until one day y/n got news her mother in the Day Court had passed away from a fever. She left the Winter Court castle earlier that morning, the snow was already melting as the warmer weather started to set in. She sat under a tree and basked in the early rays of the sun, secret tears falling down her cheeks as she tried to imagine her mothers face. "Who dares to make a witch cry?" came a sultry voice from across the boarder, y/n opened her eyes and looked to Eris, who leaned against a maple tree, the leaves almost matching the red of his hair. Y/n sighed and tucked her knees to her chest before answering "my mother passed in the night".

"I'm sorry for your loss Witch" Eris said in a voice so soft she almost mistook it for empathy. "Don't call me that" she hissed, hugging her knees a little tighter. The Witch of Winter, was her unofficial title since she was a little girl. Y/N harboured a very ancient ability called "Coaxing", it allowed her to convince a man, an army, a king to do her bidding just by speaking words encased in magic. It was the reason why her father, Kallias, took her from her mother's arms when she was 10 years old, he had heard his offspring had inherited the gift and needed it for his own. Her father, was not a cruel man, but in fact loved his daughter fiercely. He groomed her to be the perfect weapon, bringing her to every meeting and ball held in prythian. Kallias made sure that her mind and body was just as powerful as her gift, she read books almost daily and trained with her fathers war generals in combat. Eris clicked his tongue and sauntered over to her, then to her surprise, he joined her. Her tearful eyes watched him with caution as he crossed his legs in the Autumn court, she knew he could not cross into winter or her father would see it as a threat. "What are you doing?" she asked as she wiped her cheeks on the back of her hand. The Autumn court male shrugged and began to crunch fallen leaves between his finger tips. A warm breeze blew between them and ruffled his now short hair. Y/N looked him over before she allowed a small smile to tug at her tips. "You got a hair cut?" She asked, pivoting so she could face him fully. Eris kept his eyes on the leaves in his hands as he started to burn through them, small puffs of smoke snaked up his long fingers before he hummed in response. "It looks nice" she offered, the small complement brought his amber eyes up to meet hers. He looked at her for a moment, taking in the baby blue dress she wore and how she had braided her hair to the side. "Thank you" he smiled kindly.

This was the first time they had ever spoken outside of a meeting their fathers hosted. Their usual conversations consisted of political jargon that left y/n's head spinning, then they would go their seperate ways and talk to their friends. Y/N had heard many horrible things over the years about the Autumn court heir, stories of how he treated women and his youngest brother Lucien. Her father urged her to keep her wits about her whenever he or his court were around, but on that day she didn't mind his company. They spent that morning in silence, she quietly crying, while Eris burnt orange leaves. When the sun was high in the sky, its warm rays kissing y/n's skin she rose from her spot under the tree. Eris tracked her from under his orange fringe that fell over his face while he was practicing his magic. "Why do you walk around barefoot?" he asked, his chip dipping to her pale feet that stood out against the green grass that pushed threw the melting snow. Y/N looked to her toe and wiggled them around on the ground. "It makes me feel more connected to my court" she explained "it's a Day Court tradition" she continued, her voice soft as she remembered her mother explaining the importance of being connected to where they live. Eris stood and brushed the loose leaves from his pants " an odd tradition" he mumbled then stood straight. Seeing him off horse back she had never noticed how tall he truely was, how his clothing hugged each muscle and how many freckles lined his nose. "It was a pleasure to spend the morning with you, witch" he said with a small bowl and a sly smile that made his eyes light up. Y/N rolled her eyes, but before she could offer up a retort Eris had winnowed away. "Coward" she chuckled to herself and slowly made her way back to the Winter Court castle, where she could hide away in her room and tuck herself into bed with a good book.

Weeks passed since that interaction with Eris. Y/N didn't see him as much on her morning patrols as she used to, but when she did things were more or less back to normal. What wasn't normal was the morning she spotted Eris with bruises and healing cuts all over his face. When they passed each other that morning he didn't look to her, he trotted on as if she didn't exist. "What happened to you?" Y/N asked as she turned to walk closer to the Autumn court. Eris pulled the reigns on his horse but did not look to her "I fell" he grumbled out. "You.. fell? where into a vipers den?" She joked coming around to the front of his horse so she could look him in the eyes. His cheek was still purple and swollen and the cut on hips lip was still bleeding, his wounds were fresh. Y/N let out a small gasp when he looked down to her, the white of his left eye was blotched with red. It was then it dawned on her he didn't fall, he was beaten. "Eris.." she breathed and made to take a step forward, he raised his hand and stopped her in her tracks. "I don't need your pity" he bit out startling her slightly. She regained her composure and crossed her arms, tilting her head to the side as she studied him. "Get off your horse" she ordered, she didn't use her magic in hopes eris would just listen. "You don't order -" "Get off the damn horse eris" she barked at the male, his face blanched for a second before he obeyed. He hadn't expected her tone to be so.. harsh. Eris only knew y/n as a quiet girl that was stolen from her home, to order him around was something no one expected.

He clutched the horses reigns in his hands as he strode over to where she stood. "For sitting with me when I had no one" she whispered to him as she raised glowing hands to his face, he looked at her with a sense of awe. Healing was a day court power, obviously one she had inherited from her mother, but it was not documented that she had this ability. He brought his face to her hands while the magic did its job, he felt his pain ease and then disappear all together. When she was done she took a few steps back, studying her work. "All better" she mused and offered him a kind smile, she didn't wait for him to respond before she continued her walk in Winter. She left him standing there, clutching the horse reigns so tightly his fingernails had left marks in the palm of his hand.

He watched y/n until she vanished behind a tall pine tree, loosening a breath he turned and remounted his horse. The witch of winter was the first person in a very long time that showed the heir of Autumn any kindness, a kindness he would not forget.

#eris vanserra #eris x reader #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #lucien fanfic #lucien vanserra #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #rhysand #rhysand x reader #eris fanfic #eris acotar

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agirlwithglam · 2 days

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How do I stop comparing myself to others and how can I feel fulfilled on my own without needing anyone else's validation?

hiii<3 i feel what you're going through, trust me i do. here are some of my tips that specifically worked for me + at the end i'll include some more recommended things to read/ watch.

how to stop comparing & feel fulfilled without needing anyone else's validation

how to stop comparing yourself:

start focussing and thinking about yourself more. lol ok i realise that may sound like "become self absorbed" but i suppose, to some extent, that is what im saying. you're becoming too interested in others' life around you if you find yourself comparing. its time to focus on you and up levelling yourself to the best version possible.

comparison = wanting their life style, yes? so when you find yourself comparing to others in your life, realise that its because you envy something that they have. maybe its money, popularity, prettiness, intelligence, etc. so its like a signal in your brain which is telling you: "i want this. but i dont have it." so now what can you do, work hard to get it.

focus on what you have. i read a quote once (i think its by Oprah Winfrey) and it goes: "if you focus on what you don't have, you'll always have less. but if you focus on what you do have, you'll always have more." instead of looking at other's lives and thinking "i dont have this, i dont have that", look at your own life and think "i have this, i have that."

feeling fulfilled without needing anyone else's validation:

self love. self love. SELF LOVE. self love will ALWAYS be the answer to this. learn to LOVE yourself. and if you dont, ask why!! i have a whole guide on how to develop self love HERE. Stop looking for love in others, GIVE YOURSELF THE LOVE FIRST!!

It’s you over them. Always. Always always always. Always choose you over them. If they want you to do something but you don’t, then you say “no. I will not do that” it’s scary? Oh boohoohoo, suck it up. Because if you are constantly doing stuff that others ask you to just for the sake of pleasing them, you are disrespecting yourself in the worst way. You are basically saying that what they want is more important than what i want and need. Ew. Don’t do that.

extra resources:

a guide to develop self love & confidence (by me)

vanilla's opinion🍰 edition 1: dealing with hate & not caring about what others think. (by me)

ways to stay unbothered (by @pastel-charm-14)

Self validation (by @prettieinpink )

Tam Kaur's youtube channel

Thewizardliz youtube channel

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twinsunstars · 3 days

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Thank You, Mother's Day - a small Bad Batch fic

Sypnosis: Omega learns what Mother's Day is, and she's got a few ideas, while Eva, Jax, Sami, and Baryn prepare something for Emerie.

Oh my gosh, Mother's Day is almost over for me where I am in like less than an hour, but I started working on this all day after putting up this post this morning and just finished it quickly (I was so inspired by my own thoughts lol). I hope you guys like it, and Happy Mother's Day!

also up on ao3! read under cut if you want to read it on here instead!

The galaxy had many unique holidays shared around many planets. Life Day, Harvest Day, and the Festival of Light were a few that were more commonly known. One holiday had grown very popular recently as it was coming up soon, as many people on Pabu were getting ready to celebrate it with their loved one.

Mother’s Day.

When Omega first learned about the holiday from Lyana, she was curious to hear more. Lyana barely remembered celebrating Mother’s Day with her own mother, who had unfortunately passed away from a heavy illness when she was three. Lyana showed Omega a few holophotos she had left of her mother, reminiscing in the memories.

Omega listened closely when Lyana described what a mother was upon her asking. A kind, caring, nurturing, and strong female who always watches out for her family, making sure her kids are safe and healthy.

Nala Se had taken care of Omega ever since she was born, though Omega wasn’t sure about any of those motherly characteristics matching her. All she did to Omega was run tests and make sure she was staying healthy for her own purposes.

While Lyana described what a mother was, she added, “But you know, mothers don’t quite have to just be female. My dad is like my mom too, and he does everything he can to keep me safe.”

Omega thought about that. Her brothers matched those characteristics way more, always there to make sure she was safe and cared for her wellbeing.

The brother who did this the most was Echo. He always broke up Hunter and Crosshair’s fights before they escalated to violence, helped Omega sew Lula back up whenever Lula got a hole in her fabric or one of her ears ripped, made sure Wrecker wasn’t overeating and wasn’t eating anything that would make him sick, and always tried to get Crosshair to eat something.

“Lyana,” Omega began, thinking about an idea. “What if I do something for Echo? He’s always taking care of all of us, and he’s my brother but Hunter and Crosshair like joking that he’s the mom.” She would always hear things like “Listen to your mom” or “Okay, Mother” whenever Echo was around, but Omega never got the chance to sit down with her brothers and ask what that meant.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea!” Lyana said. Lyana was already planning to do something for her father and having Auntie Phee help; ever since her mother had passed away he was fulfilling that role, and even if it wasn’t Father’s Day she wanted to have her dad feel appreciated.

Omega began brainstorming ideas, asking Lyana what people usually do on this day. Gifting flowers, making a heartfelt message card, giving them gifts and letting them know how much you appreciate them. She had to share this with her brothers.

***

“Mother’s Day for Echo?”

Omega nodded with excitement, deciding to talk with her brothers about her ideas during their time out fishing today and telling them what the holiday is. “Lyana told me about it, and you all always call Echo the mom.”

“He certainly does act like a mother,” Crosshair scoffed, chewing on his toothpick and holding the fishing rod with his one hand. Batcher leaned over the ship, keeping an eye out for any fish.

“Yeah, we always joke about it,” Wrecker chuckled. “But would it be right? Echo’s not actually a mother.”

“Lyana said someone close to you who acts like a mother doesn’t actually have to really be a mother to be celebrated on this day. She’s going to celebrate her dad. I feel like we should do the same for Echo, and he’s coming back for a visit on that day. It’ll be fun!”

Omega hopped up and down, trying to convince her brothers to agree. Omega had a point; Echo always took the most care of them and made sure they were keeping things neat, clean and tidy. Wrecker and Crosshair exchanged a look, and then looked over at Hunter, who was lost in thought.

“We… could give it a try,” Hunter began. “Echo has been doing a lot lately with Rex. He does need a break.”

Hunter also didn’t want to say no to Omega. She looked so determined to appreciate Echo, he had to give her a chance to experience a Mother’s Day celebration like natural-borns do.

Omega squealed, telling her brothers the plan.

***

“Do you think we should do something for Dr. Karr?”

Eva, Jax, Sami, and Baryn resided under the tree in central Pabu, relaxing after chasing around the moonyos and playing a lot of games to keep Baryn entertained, who was now sleeping soundly in Sami’s arms.

The kids still resided on the island for their safety, waiting for their chances to go back home once the older adults found a safe way for them to get back to their families. The tricky part was finding Baryn’s family, but the kids had hope that he would get to be reunited with his mother.

Everyone was talking about Mother’s Day during their stroll in the market, putting up sales and handing out flowers and chocolates. None of the kids had been away from their family on Mother’s Day until now. They missed their mothers much more, longing for their warm hugs.

Eva suggested giving Dr. Karr a Mother’s Day gift to fill that void of longing to appreciate their mothers. Dr. Karr had been the nicest to Eva, and she felt like appreciating her. She had been away from the island for a while, so Eva was excited to see her again.

Jax tilted his head, confused. “She’s not our mother though.”

Sami replied, “But she helped us escape and kept us safe. Mothers try to keep their kids safe.”

The memory replayed in her head of when her mother tried to keep her away from the strange man who was trying to take Sami away. Everything else was a blur after that. She laid her chin on Baryn’s head gently, trying not to cry.

Eva nodded. “I have a friend who always celebrates her dad for Mother’s Day. Dr. Karr has been so nice, and Omega said she’ll be coming on that day to visit.”

Sami thought for a moment. “Should we ask Omega? She could give us advice. Dr. Karr is her sister.”

“I think she’s near the docks right now. Dr. Karr did try to protect us Maybe it could be fun,” said Jax. He missed his mom a lot, as he would always make drawings and pick flowers for her.

Eva knew how he felt. Eva missed her mother and father so much, and she prayed it was only a matter of short time before getting to be reunited with her again. Dr. Karr had given her the hay doll Eva grew to love so much, reminding her of the small plush dolls her mother would buy for her to feel happy and safe.

“Let’s go find her.”

***

“That… sounds really nice, Omega.”

Omega had commed Emerie to talk about Mother’s Day for Echo, sitting in a corner near the docks on Pabu. She was really excited, and Echo was bringing Emerie along too during his annual visit. Omega wanted her to be a part of her plan.

Emerie found this Mother’s Day interesting. Just like every other clone, she never had a mother, nor any parents. Nala Se may have taken care of her for a short period of time, but she wasn’t quite someone who you would call caring and nurturing. Hemlock may have raised her after taking her in, but he didn’t fit any of those categories either at all.

“I knew you would like it!” Omega said. She was about to tell Emerie more, but she heard an outside voice calling her name.

“Sorry, Omega,” Emerie turned with a frown. “I have to go take care of something. But I promise to keep it secret.”

Omega smiled. “It’s okay. We can go over the plan later.”

Emerie gave her sister a nod. “Be safe, Omega.”

The call ended, and Omega tucked in her holo-comm into her pocket. She turned to see Eva, Jax, and Sami coming over. Baryn was awake, snuggling with his toy.

Omega noticed Eva had a nervous look on her face. “Hi! You guys doing okay?”

The kids nodded. Eva held her hands together behind her back. “We wanted to ask you something.”

“Sure, what is it?” Omega gave the young ones her full attention, feeling a little concerned.

“Well… everyone says Mother’s Day is coming. Our moms aren’t here, but we felt like giving a gift to Dr. Karr.”

“She’s been nice to us, it’s the least we could do,” Sami added.

Omega’s eyes widened. “That sounds fantastic! I’m going to do something for one of my brothers, and Emerie is going to help. She’ll love your surprise!”

Eva smiled. “You really think so?”

Omega nodded. “Emerie never had a mother either, but I know she will love your gift.”

The kids were happy that Omega liked their idea. Now they just had to think of the perfect gift.

***

It was perfect timing. Mother’s Day was today. Omega had been wide awake since the sun rose, awaiting Echo and Emerie’s arrival. She had her brothers help her paint banners, pick flowers, and cook some food. She had drawn a picture of her and her family together for Echo to keep with him, and she had Lyana help her frame it.

Omega had gotten Mox, Stak, and Deke to join in, who were helping the Batch set the table. They had decided to make handmade bracelets for Echo to have on his missions, adding touches to his new painted armor.

Lyana came over, informing Omega that the ship was arriving. Omega ran out, Hunter exclaiming to tell her to be careful. Batcher followed her, wanting to see Echo and Emerie.

The ship landed, and Omega ran to Echo, leaping into his arms.

“Whoa, good to see you again too kid!” Echo returned the hug, carefully setting Omega down. Omega gave Emerie a hug next, as Emerie knelt down to give her sister a tight one. Omega was still getting used to seeing Emerie without those rose-tinted glasses, but she looked pretty either way.

Batcher nuzzled herself on Echo’s legs. Echo smiled, giving her some pets. She came over to Emerie, who slightly flinched. Batcher tilted her head and sat down calmly, allowing Emerie to come near her when she felt comfortable.

Emerie was still getting used to Batcher, as she would always see the lurca hounds as these vicious creatures who could easily rip one’s throats with their claws. But there was nothing to worry about with Batcher; she wasn’t one of them anymore. Emerie slowly reached her hand out, gently petting Batcher’s head. She smiled, enjoying the feeling.

“Dr. Karr!” Emerie heard little voices call her name, looking over to see Eva and Jax running towards her. Sami walked over with Baryn in her arms; the baby never wanted to leave her gentle hold. Emerie stayed down on her knees to receive a hug from each of them.

“Hello, Eva, Jax, Sami. Baryn.” Emerie smiled and scrunched her nose at Baryn, who giggled, happy to see her. “You all can call me Emerie. You don’t have to keep calling me Dr. Karr.”

“Okay. Emerie,” Eva responded, getting the feel of calling Emerie by her first name.

Echo looked around. There was no sight of the Batch. “Where are the others?”

Omega smiled. “Getting ready.”

Echo raised an eyebrow. “Ready for what?”

Omega grabbed Echo’s hand, pulling him to go with her. “Come with me. You’ve got to see this!”

Echo laughed, following his sister to where she wanted him to go. Emerie began to follow Omega, turning to the kids. “Coming?”

Eva replied, “In a bit. We’ll be there.” Emerie nodded, following Echo and Omega.

“Let’s go prepare her gift,” Jax whispered. The kids nodded, heading off to get Emerie’s Mother’s Day gift.

***

Omega excitedly led Echo to her family’s new home on Pabu. Echo noticed her being more energetic than usual, wondering where this girl had in store for him. They reached the door, but Omega stopped before opening it.

“Could you close your eyes?”

Echo scrunched his eyebrows, starting to grow suspicious of what was behind those doors. He hoped it wasn’t one of their pranks they convinced Omega to do with them. Last time he had a whole mishap with his scomp arm and sticky string.

“Please?” Omega held her hands together. As much as he was worried, Echo couldn’t say no to his favorite girl. He shut his eyes, feeling Omega take his hand again and heard the door open. Emerie opened the door so Omega could lead Echo in.

Echo slowly walked, trusting Omega to take him safely. He felt Omega stop walking as he stopped as well.

“Okay, open.”

Echo swallowed, ready to face anything that was thrown onto his face. He opened his eyes, and all he saw were his brothers, standing together with smiles on their faces. There was a whole table set with food and flowers carefully arranged. A painted banner was hung above on the walls with the words colorfully written in Aurebesh: “Happy Mother’s Day.”

Echo was about to ask what Mother’s Day was, but Omega began, “Everyone may joke that you’re our mom, but in a way you really are. You take so much care of us, and we wanted to thank you for it. Happy Mother’s Day, Echo!”

“Yeah, happy Mother’s Day, Echo!” Wrecker exclaimed, happy to celebrate. Hunter and Crosshair couldn’t help smiling at their older brother. Mox, Stak and Deke came over to Echo, handing him the bracelets they made.

“For your new armor. It’ll add some color,” Mox said.

Echo smiled, grateful for all of this.

Omega walked over to the table, reaching for a frame. She handed Echo the frame, who got to see her drawn picture of him and Omega standing together, the rest in the picture as well along with Emerie. “I drew this for you to have wherever you go, so you have a picture of us for you to look at whenever you miss us on your missions.”

Echo knelt down, holding the frame. He loved it so much, and the picture being drawn by his little sister was the best thing for him. “Thank you, Omega.”

He pulled her into a hug, which Omega returned warmly. Wrecker joined in, and so did Hunter. Wrecker dragged Crosshair into the hug, which he actually enjoyed.

Emerie came over to Echo, holding an untied bracelet. “Senator Chuchi told me about these bracelets that are shared between brothers and sisters. I wanted to make you one as a gift. It’ll bring you good luck.”

Echo looked at the delicate bracelet in Emerie’s hand. He reached out his arm, allowing Emerie to put on the bracelet for him. Emerie smiled, tying the bracelet onto his wrist next to the bracelets the young triplets gave him. Echo loved his gifts, and he was happy that his family decided to do this for him.

“You should eat, you’ve probably had a long journey,” Hunter suggested.

“The cake is delicious! Your favorite berry is in it,” Wrecker said.

Echo nodded, following his brothers and sister to the table.

Emerie was ready to follow Echo, but she heard Eva’s voice behind her. The kids stood together shyly, and Emerie noticed a red box in Eva’s hands.

“We… thought of making something for you for Mother’s Day,” Jax said.

“For helping keep us safe,” Sami added.

Eva reached out the box. Emerie was shocked. She wasn’t expecting to get anything for Mother’s Day. She didn’t feel she really fit the qualities of a mother.

Emerie knelt down, taking the box gently from Eva’s small hands. She opened it carefully, revealing a beautiful woven necklace.

“Did you all make this?” Emerie asked. The kids nodded.

“It was Sami’s idea,” said Eva. “You can wear that on your adventures, and when we go back to our families, you can have that to remember us by.”

Emerie held the necklace, fond of the design. The colors of gold, maroon, and dark blue were so beautifully woven together. She had never received a gift as precious as this.

"I have some flowers for you too," Jax said, handing her a bunch of colorful flowers he found around Pabu. Emerie took the flowers gently.

“Do you like it?” Sami asked.

Emerie smiled, tears welling up in her eyes. “It’s beautiful. It’s perfect. Thank you."

The kids smiled, coming in for another hug. Baryn cooed as Emerie set a hand on his head. She felt grateful to be loved by these children.

“Emerie, come eat!” Omega called.

“Come join,” Emerie said to the kids. She stood up, holding Eva and Jax’s hands. She helped Sami set up Baryn so he could eat something good for him.

The family was happy to be together like this, just like other normal families in the galaxy spending a holiday together. Echo had listened to Omega explain Mother's Day to him and often looked over at his bracelets, loving his gifts. Emerie had Eva put the necklace on her carefully, loving to wear it.

Mother’s Day had become a new special holiday for them in their hearts, and Omega was ready to celebrate it every year, just like this.

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smol-and-scared · 2 days

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Endemic Non-Lingual Tinies

Imagine a world where tinies never evolved the capacity for language (Mostly due to the fact that larger civilizations did not survive natural selection)

I posted about this idea before, but let me be more specific this time: These tinies cannot speak, cannot read or write, and they cannot be taught language. Their brains completely lack the capacity to convey complex ideas. The most 'language' they can possibly learn is about twelve words. And that's just because they memorized the sounds and meaning in the exact same way a dog would.

However... just because they are not able to convey complex thoughts, doesn't mean they don't have them.

Their thoughts aren't articulated as words (like humans do). Instead, they think in images, concepts, and emotions. And their voices are... just little chirping sounds.

Imagine seeing a pack of two or three tinies hiding under a picnic table, chirping and squeaking at each other. They are communicating, but only in the simplest possible terms:

'Anger', 'Confusion?', 'Assertion', 'Anger', 'Apology', 'Submission', 'Acceptance', 'Condescension', 'Exasperation', 'Challenge?', 'Dismissal...', *Scampering Off*, *whimper*

It's like hearing crows argue outside your window. There is clearly a conversation happening. But it's all conveyed through tone, body language, pitch and context. But to a human? It's just a bunch of tiny noises that sound almost identical.

That's just how things are with tinies! They're clearly intelligent. Most of them are able to craft weapons, tools and clothes. Some have even been observed making mechanical devices!

For a moment, one could almost forget how different their minds are. Watching them work, they seem just like us... And then you notice those tiny engineers keep a sort of 'Master Pebble' (which they carry everywhere, cradling it protectively) Because they do not have any other way to standardize their measurements within or between packs. ...Maybe not just like us.

And of course, how much you see tinies at all depends on the area, its wildlife, fauna, and ~general vibe~ If tinies feel particularly safe somewhere, they will mingle out in the open (but always close to a potential escape route). You can wave at them of course! In a hostile area, they will flee at any acknowledgment. In a friendlier or safer place? They will wave back! They aren't 100% sure what the gesture means, but it keeps the humans happy and most will immediately leave them alone after getting a wave back, so most tinies keep doing it.

[Side note: Mimicry has become most tinies' default solution to a seemingly friendly human gesturing at them. Don't believe me? Lock eyes with a tiny and wiggle your body a couple times. They'll be confused as hell, but goddamn it they will wiggle]

It's extremely rare for a tiny to approach a human, but the experience is absolutely magical. Maybe they're hoping you'll drop some crumbs from the snack you are eating. Perhaps they are curious about you, and perch nearby to watch in amazement as you lift an entire apple! If you've earned their trust, they may even beckon you to help them when there is an emergency or accident.

All in all, tinies are a beautiful little enigma. Their intelligence, willpower and emotions are almost a mirror of our own. But their instincts, communication and relationships are as wild as the animals that surround them.

(I wanted to revisit my idea about tinies that never evolved the capacity for language. Because it's by far my most popular post, and yet somehow, the core vibe never really got across. probably because of the specific fearplay scenario used).

#g/t #g/t writing #g/t concept #giant/tiny #g/t community #tinies #g/t discussion #borrowers #giant tiny

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moodymisty · 4 hours

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Getting it in at the last minute hopefully, but one thing that's on the brain is Chapter Serfs, the mortals who do a collection of jobs on fortress monasteries and are devoted to certain chapters. They're treated a whole range of ways depending on the chapter from "worse than slaves" to "members of the family". I've read somewhere that the Raven Guard treat their Serfs surprisingly well given they're all Spooky Scary, but I wanna know what you think!

Also on the brain is a serf worrying about her Raven Guard battle brother constantly, and being extremely gentle and doting on him because like... Look at him, being a space marine seems like an extremely painful existence.

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's note: This is a cute idea, and I want to write more Raven Guard. I hope you enjoy this little snippet!

Relationships: Unnamed Raven Guard/Gn!Reader (could be read platonic or very slightly romantic if you really squinted)

Warnings: Mentions of wounds like burns, Your astartes being apathetic about the whole thing

You almost have everything you think you'll need, looking over the spread of materials along the small table. If you've forgotten anything you hope he'll be as forgiving as the last times; As he always is.

The Raven's Valour has moored at Deliverance and you know his arrival is imminent; You'll finally be able to see him again. It's been months and while you serve the other Raven Guard with nothing but respect, there's something about your Raven Guard that is special. That has his arrival stirring your stomach.

It's become harder to even sleep without him nearby. You sleep in his private quarters with him- many of the serfs tending to higher rank Raven Guard do. The reasoning seems to be so you're always available to serve them, but too many of them seem to just like their serf's company to make it an excuse that doesn’t get doubted for a moment.

You hear the door open and quickly turn, spotting his wide shoulders and dark hair. Moments later however, you see that on areas not covered by his robes is what looks to be burns of some kind; Mostly chemical. It has that distinctive look, compared to a burn from a flame. He has other jagged cuts as well, but the burns are the most dramatic and eye catching.

"What happened?"

You say surprised, watching him sit down on the small bed and push his robes off his back. You can see his back is almost burned, and even though he has no reaction there isn't any way the cloth of his robes against his skin hadn't hurt.

You can also see the sores and dents where his armor weighed on him; in the weeks of nonstop use.

"We encountered heretics worshiping Nurgle. There were far more than expected, and they’ve learned new tricks."

He says little more than that, which doesn't surprise you. He isn't very talkative, particularly about these sorts of things. You presume his mission didn't go well if what little he gave was any indicator.

"I, I'm going to go get some things to help you, I'll be right back."

You quickly rush to grab any of the things you think will help, though much of it is more so for the humans around Deliverance than the astartes. The general consensus is they simply deal with the pain until it stops- that using healing solutions is a waste unless needed to preserve their life. you don't want him stay like this. He deserves more for protecting humanity; For protecting you.

"Here. This should help all of this heal."

You expected him to resist you, but you're surprised when he doesn't. You crawl onto the small bed and get behind him, holding your materials in your lap. He lets you come closer and apply medicine to all of his wounds, careful around the interface ports lining his back and shoulders. They run all along his back, digging directly into his spinal cord. They’re surrounded by old scars, and you fear it’ll hurt if you aren’t gentle.

You brush some burn cream over the massive one spanning his shoulder blade and he shifts, causing you to pull away for a moment.

"I'm sorry if this hurts, my lord."

He grunts at you, and you don't quite know if he's just responding, or scolding you for the use of title. Either way you eventually continue, but far more cautious.

You continue tending to his wounds, cleaning them and applying medicine to speed up his already incredibly fast healing. You know he doesn’t need it; But you know it will at least help. He's silent almost the entire time, until he turns to look at you over his shoulder.

"I can hear you thinking." You look up from his wounded shoulderblade.

You're thinking that he deserves better than this; To not be in pain, and treated like a weapon to be thrust at the enemy, and then be left in pain he's been trained to ignore. Or at least refuse to show.

"Sorry," Is all you can mutter, however. He looks at you for a moment longer, and you notice his dark eyes flicker around your face before he turns back around.

Once his wounds are as well as you can make them you rake your fingers through his black hair, until it's untangled enough to pull it back. Once you're finished, he looks towards towards the top of his bed. His hand tugs the thin fabric draping over it.

"You slept in it," He says bluntly and out of the blue, catching you red handed. You're still kneeling on the bed behind him, wringing your hands.

"I couldn't sleep one night. I was worried since the Raven's Valour was gone longer than you'd said it would be." He turns, and you notice a very small smile on his face.

"Do not worry about me so much." You look away, and you don't know why your eyes suddenly feel so watery.

"If I don't, then who else will?"

His small smile stays, but you notice something change in his look that you can't quite place.

And before you have a chance to even try he reaches a hand up, and rustles the top of your head. Afterwards, he cups your jaw with the same hand and keeps you facing him.

Don't worry little raven, I'll be fine."

#raven guard x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

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andsewingishalfthebattle · 1 month

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Novice sewing pattern: Cut out shapes. Line up the little triangles on the edges. Stitch edges together. We've also included step-by-step assembly instructions with illustrations.

Novice knitting pattern: yOU MUSt uNDerstANd thE SECret cOdE CO67 (73, 87, 93) BO44 (63, 76, 90) 28 (32, 34) slip first pw repeat 7x K to end *kl (pl) 42 * until 13" (13, 13, 15) join new at 30 pl for 17 rows ssk 27 k2tog mattress lengthwise BO and sacrifice a goat to the knitting gods. WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU WANT "INSTRUCTIONS," I JUST GAVE THEM TO YOU

#knitting #no it's not a real pattern but I can't write one that makes sense because I have no freaking clue what any of that means #How do you make things that aren't basic rectangles #Why has every knitter I've asked for help just said 'patterns are easy; you just have to know how to read them' & then refused to teach me #Where do I even find a goat to sacrifice #How do I join the pattern cult #I am so confused #I've been knitting for almost a decade but I can only make scarves and potholders #I learned one (1) stitch by watching a YouTube video and none of my friends or family knit so I have no IRL resources #And nobody I meet seems to want to take the time to explain the rest to me #I taught myself to sew through trial and error but that doesn't really work with knitting because error is pretty much just... Unraveling?#Anyway sorry for the tag rant I'm just frustrated that I see pretty things I want to make but the instructions are in an alien language #And the gap between 'absolute novice' and 'intermediate' seems to be about 20 years of experience and formal instruction

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itspileofgoodthings · 11 days

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Well, I actually have the most mundane of questions, but it’s been so long since I’ve been in an English class that I feel like I’ve completely forgotten (and I’m curious how you do it): how do you go about reading a book as a class? Do you assign them the chapters to read at home and most of them actually do it? Or do you give them class time to read? Do you have the kids who try to spoil the rest of the book for the class? Basically, how does one teach a book in the year 2024? 😀

And do you have your students annotate inside their books? (I know the English teachers in my school require the students to do that, and I get why, but I inwardly shudder every time I see a student marking up a page.)

Haha I love this question because I too am always asking myself how DOES one each a book in 2024?

It’s sort of a combination. I absolutely assign reading every night (almost) unless it’s Shakespeare or any play in which case we read it all in class. But for a novel there’s a couple chapters a night. I read aloud to them a lot too. Sometjmes I make them read aloud to the whole class, rotating kids who read. Sometimes I assign a chapter to be read in class silently with questions or quotes due at the end of the reading. Sometimes I put them in groups and make them read aloud to each other. There’s no one way that works for sure and of course ultimately I have no control over how much they read and I’m not naive enough to think that most of the reading assigned for homework doesn’t get skipped most of the time buuuuuut.

My bottom line is that I believe it’s my job to get excited about the actual text itself (easier for me in some cases than others but overall pretty easy because it does fill me with excitement) and then commit to taking them on the journey of the story with me. And my goal—that I’m sure I often don’t reach—is to make that experience so much more fun if you have actually read. And the way that I teach is pretty text heavy which is why I always make sure I’ve read the chapters for the day and am not just relying on my memory because the way I do it is just sort of absorbing it all up like a vacuum-cleaner, schwooooop, and then either pulling stuff out of the reading to look at directly or directing them to do the same thing. So the big thing that I have going for me, if any, is buy-in. Is getting kids excited about actually reading the actual text. I also speak often and passionately about the evils of sparknotes etc. not because they help kids get better grades or whatever but because they present you with the husk and shell of a story, stripped of all that makes it interesting, and that by reading that alone they’re reading something so dry and dull and are not achieving what I always want them to achieve —which is, have an Experience with the Literature.

Again, it never works perfectly by any stretch and there are so many ways I want to explore in my quest to get better at it but overall I think, at my very best, I can create this wave of energy and excitement in the story itself which is the most organic and ultimately most helpful way to get them to want to read.

Also no haha. I don’t let them annotate! Though occasionally kids DO of course. But sometimes they bring in their own copies in order to do that. The spoilers absolutely happen and are annoying but I sort of get by it by moving on very quickly and/or talking about how it’s often not the ending but how you get there that makes it interesting. Because that’s just true!

#gosh does this answer make sense #I am so passionate about doing it well and there are huge gaps in my teaching in terms of concrete stuff #but I am doing ….. Something in terms of bringing literature closer to them #and that’s what I want to do!#also love love love the bonus of getting to reread great works over and over until they start sinking into my brain #and I think (well I usually don’t think about it) but I think that the experience for them of watching me read it again #(and sometimes literally I won’t have time to read I need 10 minutes to finish this chapter and tell them to shut up)#(while I sit there and read it)#reminds them that I AM committed to doing the work with them. that I am actually doing it and that I want to!#and idk I think that is both a rarer experience and one that’s kind of underrated in terms of how much warmth it can create #because I have nothing in common with 16 year olds we couldn’t be friends in real life without it being very weird/possibly inappropriate #but in class we have a Thing to be friends about #we have a shared goal! and not just an arbitrary one but a deeply beautiful one #idk. there’s still a lot of boredom a lot of pushback a lot of disinterest #but I’m always amazed at how often kids do want to …. idk sink their teeth into something real #it’s REAL food for their minds. and the hunger for it is there even if they decide they’re too lazy to join the group #my goal is to —merely by the situation itself—make you feel left out of the fun if you refuse to do the work #so you can CHOOSE that but it’s less fun. it’s cold. it’s boring and it’s isolating #because refusing to do the work and insisting on being a little toad SHOULD come with natural social punishments in the form of exclusion #from the best kind of fun. it often does NOT. but yeah. I think I’m also getting better at shutting down toad behavior from adolescent male #this is where teaching co-Ed helps because there are some girls who are like ‘if you stop my learning I will kill you’#not ENOUGH girls but some #ooooof this is a long answer but literally always on my mind #thank you for asking!!! also haha I assumed you were an English teacher yourself!

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fireflowersims · 6 months

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We haven't learned. We haven't learned shit at all.

My country's wealth is directly linked to the exploitation and colonization of other peoples. We call the violent acts commited in Indonesia after ww2 "police actions" as if it wasn't horrific crimes against people who were (justifiably) tired of being occupied and abused by foreign invaders and colonizing dickhats.

Sure, we "lost" the Dutch East Indies. We are not actively colonizing anymore. And yet, we still haven't learned a thing. That "VOC mentality" was never gone, it's still there. It's that mentality of thinking business above everything else, money makes right, who cares how horrifically you abuse people, who cares about the massacre of the Banda islands when you now have all the yummy nutmeg to use and sell. It's not something to be admired, it's something we have to address and resolve, but we're not. We're not doing that, but we have to if we ever want justice of any kind.

We're ruled by dickheads who think that saying "from the river to the sea" is a hatecrime that should be condemned. "Yeah sure, you would've probably said the same thing about the utterance of "Republik Indonesia" less than 100 years ago, no?" is what I say to that. We have not successfully freed ourselves of this damn colonizer mindset!

The only reason the Netherlands ever stopped the "police actions" is because we were threatened with sanctions. Post WW2, it was stop the "police actions" (read: many war crimes) or lose the money from the Marshall Plan needed to rebuild your ruined country. The choice was easy enough.

But noooooo, we can't sanction Israel to get them to, ya know, STOP BOMBING HOSPITALS, SCHOOLS AND CIVILIANS IN GENERAL!!! They're our friends! Fuck no. I know why those asshats ain't sanctioning Israel (at least one of the reasons): they'd lose access to fucking Pegasus; spyware surpreme. Wanna spy on some journalists? Perhaps the opposition? Scary activists? Pegasus is THE spyware for you! Infect ppl's phones and suck up All Teh Data wihout them knowing. Suspected detection of the stuff somehow? Self-destruct, boom. Fantastic stuff if you're into violating ppl's privacy. I don't see this talked about a lot, but Israel is Scary in the cyberwarfare department. And they sell this expertise.

I support Palestine. I hope to see it freed someday. Hopefully soon

To Israel(is): decolonize ur shit. I know, it's hard, it's painful, you'll have to question and unlearn a lot of things. Heck, it may give you an existential and/or moral crisis for a bit. I still get one about nutmeg sometimes. But just like desinfecting a wound, it is ultimately beneficial.

PALESTINIAN PEOPLE DESERVE LIFE AS MUCH AS ANY OTHER PEOPLE

#non sims #fire flower speaks #palestine #gaza #free palestine #israel #free gaza #what do you even say when you see such horrific things unfolding almost by the minute #I have been thinking a lot about this ever since our public broadcast shared a video of a literal colonist #she was french and colonizing on the west bank. she was ready to 'shoot the arabs' bc 'they shouldn't be harboring terrorists'#it kinda opened my eyes more to how horrific colonization is #colonization is evil #I cannot do anything about what my country did but I can object to such practices being practiced elsewhere #this is bigger than just palestine #even colonizers have to decolonize themselves #if anyone has any good recommendations on things to watch or read on Dutch colonization of Indonesia please share #or decolonisation in general #I am still learning. Please pardon my ignorance #(and pls send resources so I may work on resolving that)

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