VOID
Like a priest behind confession walls I judge myself~ kneeling on a metal grater
Bloody, like a body that has died and its myself~ tangled in my own intestines
I, gotta escape that VOID, there is no other choice yeah, holding a loadin' gun, the VOID ate me
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you're in the habit of denying yourself things.
if someone asked you directly, you would say that you love a little treat. you like iced coffee and getting the cookie. you drink juice out of a fancy cup sometimes, and often do use your candles until they gutter out helplessly.
but you hesitate about buying the 20 dollar hand mixer because, like. you could just use your arms. you weren't raised rich. you don't get to just spend the 20 dollars (remember when that could cover lunch?), at least - you don't spend that without agonizing over it first, trying to figure out the cost-benefits like you are defending yourself in front of a jury. yes, this rice cooker could seriously help you. but you do know how to make stovetop rice and it really isn't that hard. how many pies or brownies would you actually make, in order to make that hand mixer worthwhile?
what's wild is that if the money was for a friend, it would already be spent. you'd fork over 40 without blinking an eye, just to make them happy. the difference is that it's for you, so you need to justify it.
and it sneaks in. you ration yourself without meaning to - you don't finish the pint of ice cream, even though you want to. the next time you go to the store, you say ah, i really shouldn't, and then you walk away. you save little bits of your precious things - just in case. sometimes you even go so far as putting that one thing in your shopping cart. and then just leaving it there, because maybe-one-day, but not right now, there's other stuff going on.
you do self-care, of course. but you don't do it more than like, 3 days in a row. after that it just feels a little bit over-the-edge. like. you can't live in decadence, the economy is so bad right now, kid.
so you don't buy the rice cooker. you can-and-will spend the time over the stove. you can withstand the little sorrows. denial and discipline are practically synonyms. and you're not spoiled.
it's just - it's not always a rice cooker. sometimes it is a person or a job or a hug. sometimes it is asking for help. sometimes it is the summer and your college degree. sometimes it is looking down at scabbed knees and feeling a strange kind of falling, like you can't even recognize the girl you used to be. sometimes it is your handprint looking unsteady.
sometimes it is tuesday, and you didn't get fired, and you want to celebrate. but what is it you like, even? you search around your little heart and come up empty. you're so used to denying that all your desires draw a blank.
oh fuck. see, this is the perfect opportunity. if you had a mixer, you'd make a cake.
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Hot Steam | Xavier/Reader
About: What started as a nice soak in the hot springs with Xavier turned into something more...
Pairing: Xavier/Reader
Notes: I don't have the memory Kind Words for Xavier itself so idk what goes on in that scene but the art itself made me go . I need him I need to write him and mc in the hot springs.
AO3: Read here!
Warnings: Age 18+ only please. Enjoy :)
“This was not what I had in mind when you told me to come sit closer.”
You said, doing your best to look him in the eye and not let your eyes wander down further. But he did not extend the same courtesy to you.
“Then what did you have in mind?” Xavier asked as he toyed with the towel that was stubbornly wrapped around your body. He had complained about you sitting too far away from him while in the hot spring beforehand and caught you off guard when you scooted closer, grabbing and lifting you by the waist and then plopping you down onto his lap. While you didn’t mind the closeness of it all, something about being skin to skin and almost naked made you feel… exposed.
It didn’t help that his hand was still on your waist, resting at the small of your back. How easy would it for him to slide his hand down further and slip it under the flimsy towel–
A sudden kiss to your bare shoulder pulled you out of your thoughts. He was staring up at you, his eyes dark and intense. He didn’t care your breasts were pressed against him, the towel shielding your form from him barely holding on.
Or maybe he did care, since you could suddenly feel something poking at your thigh.
“What’s on your mind?” He asked, his expression unchanging despite knowing you could feel his growing problem under you.
“What do you think?” You retorted as calmly as possible. You thought it was impossible to feel yourself grow even hotter, being in a hot spring and all. But you did, his touch planting seeds of desire under your skin. Especially when he hooked his fingers onto the hem of your towel.
You nodded when he looked toward you for permission. And with one smooth motion, the fabric that protected you from the world, from his dark, predatory gaze, fell around you and sunk into the hot spring.
The soft sigh he let out then broke the peaceful silence of the hot spring, his hot breath fanning your exposed breast. Lifting his hand out of the water, he dragged a finger against the round of your right breast, as though committing the sight before him to memory.
“You’re so beautiful.” Xavier breathed out, before pulling you down to a kiss. It felt tender at first, gentle like he was to you. But as seconds ticked by, the kiss grew more intense, headier, with him palming your breast and thumbing over your pert nipple as his other hand drew you closer to him.
And then, you felt it. You gasped as he pulled you flush against his hardness. The soft cotton fabric brushed past your clit and his clothed tip pushed insistently against your entrance. Taking advantage of your surprise, he slipped his tongue past your lips and deepened the kiss, slowly grinding himself up and down your heat.
“I don’t— I don’t think we should do this here.” You said, breathless after parting from his lips. His hands were incredibly distracting, wandering about and teasing you. But that was nothing compared to his hardened cock resting between your folds, throbbing every now and then to remind you of your shared predicament.
“You’re right. Shall we head back inside?”
Before you could climb off his lap however, he slipped an arm under you and lifted you, hauling you up to his shoulder with one arm.
Like a prize won by a successful hunter.
“Wait– I can walk–”
“No.” Xavier said, carrying up and into the room you booked, suddenly glad that you opted for a private hot spring instead. He gently laid you down on the bed before climbing on top of you, his piercing gaze never leaving you once.
“What kind of hunter would I be if I let my prize go?”
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Liliana telling Imogen, "You know how much I miss just taking care of those horses? You know how much I dream of just walking the fields and making breakfast at sunrise? All that was taken from me" really brings to mind something that Laudna said to Imogen in episode 49:
"If you wish to have a quiet life in a cozy cottage in a field, raise horses and just be, no gods or fates or destiny can keep you from that."
That's the crux of why Liliana's argument fails to be convincing. Laudna is right--at any moment in this journey, Imogen could have decided she didn't need to do this and found a cottage to settle down in. At any point in 14-16 years of wandering Exandria before finding the Verity, Liliana could have gone home and had all the things she feels were "taken" from her. But she didn't, and that was her decision, not the fault of the gods, or Predathos, or any other force she thinks kept her away. She decided she needed answers more than that cozy life she loved so much. Foisting the responsibility of that decision does not erase that it was hers
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