#I would sell my soul in an instant

[ittybittyluci]

Anyone else feel the compulsive urge to drop to their knees whenever they look at (or even just think about atp, tbh) this gorgeous, amazing, beautiful man? Because I do. Every day. It’s becoming a problem. I’m normal

[xvxblahhhxvx]

I need Atsushi and Chuuya to meet before bsd ends, because I just know they'd be besties.

Like, forgetting about all the deep thematic schtuff about them both being selfless and self-sacrificial, Chuuya would absolutely love the kid a) because he's strong and b) because he does not take Dazai's crud.

Like, Atsushi is by far the sassiest when it comes to Dazai, and with every comment calling him out, Chuuya would love Atsushi a little more. And also because he's Atsushi and anyone who doesn't love Atsushi deserves to be burnt at the stake just on principle.

I also think Atsushi would like Chuuya because he's very much not like Akutagawa. And, he'd be able to sniff the suffering in him in a second (as he does), and would befriend him in an instant. They would be the most chaotic duo ever and I will sell my soul for this to happen.

[lisired]

the devil’s cup

pairing: demon!haechan x (f) reader

genre/warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), demons/underworld, mentions of death and self-destruction, unprotected sex/breeding (don’t be silly, wrap your willy!), edging, very slight degradation

summary: In a world where humans and demons are separated by earth and the unknown, you’re curious about the creatures that most mortal beings are too frightened to investigate. More specifically if they can please you sexually. As they say, curiosity killed the cat.

wc: 6.8k (this is the shortest fic I’ve done in a minute)

a/n: quick (and short) write! as always, feedback is appreciated!

There was a bit of division between the upper and underworld. 

That said, that never prevented the interaction of humans and infernal spirits. It only limited them, though even with said inhibitions in place, forbidding could only go so far within mortal control. 

Not everyone was god-fearing. Least of all demons. 

Though you weren’t exactly fearless, you were curious to a fault. Human knowledge of the underworld was limited. You lived in a world where plenty of supernatural beings - werewolves, faes, vampires and the like - coexisted in an integrated society, but demons lived in an unexplored world of their own.

Which, obviously, was the underworld. 

The church insisted it was for your own sake. You had practically never mentioned your intrigue to anyone, though that was chiefly because you were terrified to. The pastors were passionate in their sermons, deeming anyone who played with the devil a sinner beyond redemption and a betrayer of faith. You knew you’d be thrown scornful glances in an instant. 

You weren’t the only curious one. There were plenty groups of people who conjectured about the underworld and its occupants. Which was not an option for you for many reasons. First of all, they teetered on extremism. Second, you would undoubtedly be banished from society for so much as breathing near them. 

Your only option was your friend. Who happened to be supernatural himself. 

Ten laughed. “Let me get this straight. You want to fuck around with the devil?” 

You frowned. Though you definitely preferred the ridicule over the comtempt. He, however, wasn’t exactly in the place to mock you. “Come on, Ten. Didn’t you call on a succubus?” 

“Correction - you want to fuck the devil.” 

“Ten,” you whined. 

Ten shook his head. This was hilarious, because you were completely serious. It was also somewhat worrying. Most humans that had toyed with the devil for too long never survived. “Babe, I’m a vampire. Have been for sixty-two years. I’m technically in my eighties. You, sweetheart, are a human. Incubi can kill mortals like you.”

No wonder he tended to act like a cranky grandpa. You folded your arms stubbornly. 

The truth was that you were searching for a way to spice up your sex life and strangely enough, a demon sounded like exactly what you needed. You were desperate at this point. The men earth had provided for you were useless. You could count on both hands how many times you had given them a try and were ultimately unsatisfied. You were out of options. 

“One time won’t hurt, right?” you asked, batting your lashes. “Please, Ten. I just want to try. I can only die if I do it continuously.” 

Ten blew out a sigh. “Woman, you’re insane.” 

You whined, “Pretty please? I’ll literally buy you those Starbucks drinks you like everyday for a month. I need this.”

Ten mulled the offer over. On one hand, this was not only dangerous, but deadly. There was a chance that he could risk losing you in the process. But on the other, you were a responsible adult woman. It wasn’t like you would be selling your soul. You’d simply be testing the waters. “Fine. I’ll help you, but you better only do this shit once. I’ve had to bury a friend before. I don’t wanna go through that hell again.”

You lept up excitedly and cheered, “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I love you so much.”

“Whatever,” Ten said, rolling his eyes. “I’ll be back later with the stuff. And I’m taking it back after tonight.” 

Frankly, you couldn’t care less. You knew your best friend was only trying to protect you, and you genuinely didn’t intend on disobeying. You were curious, not stupid. Nor did you have a death wish. 

Ten reappeared later that night with the materials necessary to summon a demon. Technically, you could have done it without them, but that would’ve been a much more ineffective, chance-based approach. It also most likely would have taken way longer. According to Ten, the board had a ninety-percent success rate. 

He had told you, “Unless you’re like, extremely unfuckable, it’ll work for sure.”

You snorted. 

That was how you met Haechan. 

Black smoke rose from the ground, wavering murkily with a ghastly noise until it dwindled fainter and fainter. You took a step or two back, holding your breath with curious fear as you waited for the mist to clear. 

Once it did, the handsomest man you had ever seen materialized before you.

You audibly gasped. Frankly, you weren’t sure what you were expecting, but it wasn’t this. His dark hair was slicked back, forehead exposed to the breeze that temporarily coursed through your home, and he was tan-skinned. Like the heat of hell had graced his body. 

His pretty lips curled into the utmost smuggest grin. “Aren’t I lucky? I could feel that you would be gorgeous.” 

“You could feel it?” you repeated dumbly. In your defense, you were stunned. 

The average idea of a demon was a grotesque blood-hungry monster and needless to say, this nameless boy didn’t fit the bill. Part of you was half certain that Ten was pranking you, firm in his decision that it was foolish for a human to engage with a demon. He seemed like a regular, everyday being. Except maybe not. Most men weren’t this beautiful. And his presence was inexplicably strong.

Haechan scoffed, “Yeah? How else do you think I got here? I could feel your energy. It was calling me.” 

The room reeled. The air felt different, thicker. Your body lighter. There was an air of danger to this boy with a trace of something else that you were equally drawn to. 

Energy. Was it possible that you could feel his energy too? 

Given you were in a state of mental narcosis, more or less the effect of his aura, Haechan gleaned you wouldn’t respond and instead approached you. It felt like you were jolted awake when his warm skin pressed to yours, his lips and breath ticking your neck. 

“Haechan,” the demon whispered, but it felt like the thrumming of the wind. “That’s the name I want you to say tonight.”

Heat wafted over you. You nodded, because you couldn’t say another word. As if an invisible hand was clasped around your throat. 

Haechan coiled an arm around your waist, forcing your back flush against his chest. “Tell me what you want,” he purred. Your thighs were bare and he snagged the opportunity to grope them, free hand leisurely rising higher. For now, they landed squarely at your ass. “So I can help you.”

You swallowed hard. Part of you was afraid, but the other was enticed by the danger. It always had been. Your voice lacked complete confidence. “I… wanted something new. The men here aren’t adequate. I needed something else.” 

“Oh?” Haechan cocked a brow and snickered. “Don’t worry about that tonight, baby. I’ll make you forget about everyone except me.” 

For a while, you had been at war with yourself, dithering between your options. But Haechan had tempted you. Whatever fight you had abandoned you as he brought you to your bed. 

Every alarm in your body was ringing, sirening to you that danger was near at hand, but the soft lulling of his voice abated your panic. The horns were blown, but you were too far gone to hear them. 

Haechan lay you at your backside and you swayed like a leaf, throat parched dry when you glimpsed into his eyes. They were red with lust, dark as blood. “Don’t look so scared,” he reproached, but it was of little substance given the smidgen of a smirk you’d seen on his lips. 

You were still tongue tied and at a loss for breath, never mind words. 

Haechan’s touch wasn’t gentle in the slightest as he came to tear your clothes away, shredding them layer by layer. His fingers skimmed against your body and your skin scorched where he touched you. 

Admittedly, it was somewhat true that you were frightened, but this was exactly what you needed to fill the empty chasm of excitement in your sex life. Between thrill and fear, the feeling that coursed through your veins was indistinguishable. 

You had cycled through mortals and been left unimpressed each time. There was bad, and then there was decent. You wanted neither. You wanted someone to go above and beyond. They tended to do only enough to barely get you there. If even. You’d seen it all; you wanted mind-blowing.

You shivered at the cool sensation of the air against naked skin, but it was immediately negated by Haechan’s body heat. Still, it wasn’t enough. You whimpered, “Touch me.” 

“Eager, aren’t we?” Haechan snickered. “Say please.”

You didn’t hesitate. “Please. I need you to touch me.” 

Satisfied, Haechan snatched your panties with a final tear and skirted a hand between your thighs. They were already open and parted, welcoming him keenly. 

It was only when you felt his slender fingers scissoring between your thighs did you notice how wet you were. The thought alone had been arousing. The sight of him even more. It was the weaving of those individual factors that had you gathering in his palms like water. 

Haechan shook his head with mirth. “Something tells me that you don’t get wet like this too often. Do you, baby?”

The answer to that was so embarrassingly obvious that you wanted to shrink until nothing remained of you. Your cheeks stung. “No. Not really.” The more you thought about it, you couldn’t remember the last time you had been so aroused. 

If ever. 

“Aren’t you a little sinner,” Haechan said and chuckled to himself. Needless to say, he was amused. A pretty girl like you that could most likely have any guy she wanted calling on a demon because the men on earth can’t satisfy her? He was delighted. And almost humiliated on their behalf.

Like the cruel demon he was, he added, “It’s a little pathetic, don’t you think? Getting wet for me when you could easily find a human to fuck.” 

You whined, but ironically pulsed around his fingers. Those words were as true as they were humiliating. His fingers coaxed into you with a loud, wet squelch. 

Haechan eyed you with the intensity of a ravening werewolf. The likes of you were familiar - pretty girls that were too curious for their own good and went looking into entities where they had no business for pleasure. Never would you be the first or last, though regardless he had a job that he was more than glad to fulfill. 

Pleasure played out on your face. That said, you wanted more. You had always considered that maybe you were the problem. Maybe you were the one at fault because you were too greedy, too insatiable. Enough was a word of little subtance to you. 

But you noticed a sort of stark divergence here. With your previous conquests, you were unsatisfied because they took pleasuring you as if it were drudgery. This was more or less a job for Haechan, yet in spite of that, he seemed enlivened. 

Boys came a dime a dozen. Pleasure like this? It was a luxury far beyond your worth. 

“Fuck me,” you whispered. You were even willing to beg, if that was what it took. 

“Mm, no. Not yet,” Haechan said, having a good chuckle at the look of incredulity on your face at your expense. 

Never had you ever been turned down. It was always you that turned people away. Men that were bound to be disappointments in the sack lined up for you. They never hesitated to take advantage of your desperation. 

Haechan curled his fingers, sending every wall of the room reeling. Your pupils dilated when he leaned in, firmly holding your jaw to make you meet his stare. “Human boys don't build you up, do they? They just take what they want and leave. I'm going to take my time with you, baby.”

You doubted anyone had ever uttered anything like that to you before. 

His grip slackened. Not many words needed to be exchanged, the two of you content with the sounds of your soft moans and wet cunt filling the air. 

The glimmer of mischief on Haechan’s face turned pensive. “Can’t decide how I want to fuck you. What about you, pretty thing - how do you want to be fucked?”

You felt your cheeks warm in response to his question, though you had a contemplative answer. Any additional eye contact would have landed you in an early grave, but you wanted him to take control. Too many times had you had to take the lead because you chased your own pleasure. You were in dire need of relaxation. 

And if you were being honest, you'd let him have you any which way. 

“From behind,” you replied, clinging to the pretense of indifference. 

The mischief returned at the speed of light and Haechan taunted, “Scared to look me in the eyes?” 

You blurted, “Can you read my mind?”

“Yes.”

Every functioning gear within you halted and your body slammed on the brakes. Made worse by the serious look on his face. 

Then, Haechan erupted with laughter. “Sike.” You were relieved, though not amused. “I’m just fucking with you. I’m not psychic.” 

As if to apologize for the massive scare he’d only just now given you, Haechan swept in and pressed a brief yet unnaturally hypnotic kiss to your lips.

You felt like you could die at any given moment, but strangely enough, you liked it. 

It was game over when he interposed another finger between your walls, tall and slender. You were plagued by so many emotions all at once that you hardly realized how close you'd gotten in no time at all. Time expedited, but the minutes ticked slower.

You grabbed Haechan’s wrist, fighting for control of his movements, though not that he needed much guidance. It was an act of bad habit, you supposed, but Haechan smirked and let you do as you pleased. For now. 

“Haechan,” you whimpered, reminded of the name you were instructed to say. 

The man in question eyed you with a lustful awe. It was the first time you’d said his name and brother, was it a delightful noise. He hummed, “Close?”

You bobbed your head. No words needed to be said. The way your entire body responded to his touch as if it was owned by him was enough of an indication. 

In a mere instant, you felt empty and desolate, warmth fading into crisp ice without warning. You whimpered, turning to look at the culprit, but met with only a smug smile. 

No way in hell had this demon just edged you. 

Haechan beat you to a word and explained, “I want you to cum on my dick. Is that alright, princess?”

“Please, hurry,” was your desperate response. You had no protest. You simply needed to feel him as soon as possible. 

Haechan had a nice laugh at the sight of you trying to find his hands anew and fuck yourself against them, but retrieved them, bringing his fingers that were coated in your slick to his mouth and sucking them clean. Ironically, you tasted like heaven. 

You moaned when Haechan kissed you, his saliva palliative to the ache of the wait and wanting. It took your mind off of the throbbing between your sensitive thighs while he shredded what remained of his clothes. You were so wrapped in his dark magic, a pawn in his devilish game, but you didn’t care. He could destroy you until you were no longer flesh and bones and you'd say, “Thank you.” 

Haechan was ready with burning lust and he growled, “Hands and knees.” 

You didn’t hesitate to scramble into position, as if he'd punish you for wasting a second of time. Every voice in your mind was subdued and you only listened to the thudding sound of your racing pulse. It screamed even louder the closer Haechan’s body came into yours. 

A gasp tore out of you the moment you noticed his cock stretching you open, ceasing the long wait. It was accompanied by another hushed growl, Haechan’s hands finding purchase at your hips. He filled you nice and slow, the pace so agonizing that you were tempted to believe he was testing you for the sake of toying with you. 

“Don’t tease. Please,” you begged. “I want you to fuck me - hard.” 

Haechan cocked a brow, but made no protest. “Whatever my pretty girl wants.” 

You fought for breath when every inch was encased between your warm and wet walls, pulsing around his thick cock. Haechan penetrated you with a hiss at how you swathed around him so tightly. 

Your body came alive at the touch of the undead, responding to his body with voracity. Haechan had no intention of restraining himself, ramming his hips into yours vigorously. He set a brutal pace, enough to sate you and your unnatural urges. For now. Your flesh scorched with fever, broiling under his fingertips yet craving more of him, more of the singe. You were indescribably elated. 

Haechan seized you to a bruising extent and braced his teeth into your shoulder, effectively smothering a noise. You let out a cry of pain and pleasure, warped together to create some inexplicable sensation.

“So goddamn tight,” Haechan hissed, giving your ass a smack or three. Every thwack sent you clamping even tighter. “You like it rough?”

Between a thread of moans, you whimpered, “Yes.” But the way he drove his cock into you - hurried and ruthless - bundled your head into the mattress, your cries smothered by the pillows.

Haechan latched onto your hair, letting out a hollow, breathy laugh when you moaned. You were so eager to take him, never shying away from his actions.  

It was paranormal, like nothing you had ever felt before. You'd yet to discern the invisible shroud of mist that billowed in the air, the spine-chilling gale that swept over you and chaperoned his presence, but you loved it. It kept you on your toes and made you hold your breath. Something to this extent felt forbidden, like you were getting a taste of pleasure beyond human capacity. It was an ethereal and otherworldly type of pleasure.

You felt so light that you could topple over from one breath. 

Haechan’s eyes lingered on the way your whole body tremored at the impact of his thrusts, your ass meeting his cock with a slap and your breasts bouncing underneath you. Your body was gradually beginning to be coated in bruises and scratches, remnants of him that would linger even after he was long gone. 

You loved that he was rough, loved that he fucked you like there was no tomorrow without overdoing it. He only had one night to give you the best dick of your life and was successful so near in. 

Many had tried, but many had failed to fuck you like this. You knew you would be sad to see him go. 

“Oh my god,” you cried, your voice given an outfall for speech courtesy of the way Haechan lifted your head by your hair. You were melting into abyss. 

Haechan tugged at it a little rougher and demanded, “Tell me you love this.” 

“I love it. I love it so much,” you babbled. Your thoughts were revoked. Your body was on fire. You knew one thing and it was the feeling that lit you off and riled you up. 

The demon boy smiled. He wasn’t psychic, but he knew how you felt without saying. It was in how your body responsed to his, submitting to his every move. Your body betrayed you, presenting all of your emotions on a silver platter. 

Haechan discerned you were near your climax and leaned closer, teeth grazing over your shoulder when he growled, “You’re close.”

It wasn’t a question; you were close. That much was obvious. You could only bob your head, blabbering more hardly coherent sentences that he found amusing. 

You fisted the pillows and sheets for dear life, clinging to whatever you possibly could to anchor yourself. You felt like you had been put together solely to be destroyed afresh. As if his intention was to shatter you piece by piece. 

In that case, he was doing a damn good job. 

If possible, Haechan’s pace became even more merciless. “Let go,” he coaxed surprisingly gently, strumming you to climax with his fingers at your clit. Your body one-hundred percent intended to obey him, unable to defy its urges. 

You screamed with orgasm, burying your face into the pillows to smother your cries of pleasure. Tears welled in your eyes, rivulets trickling down your cheeks. Your body felt whole and empty all at once, overcome by an overwhelming sense of relief. Even after you came, you were still pulsing around his cock, eager to get him there. 

“Cum,” you begged, still waiting for him. “Please?” 

The desperacy in your voice practically finished Haechan then and there, and he grunted, “Fuck.” There was no way he could tell a pretty thing like you, “No.” 

Haechan found a bruising grip on your ass to anchor himself and his cock twitched with release inside you, his mouth parting with a series of moans and growls. You whimpered when he filled you, painting your walls with warm cum. Only then did your spent body slacken, collapsing exhaustedly against the sheets. 

Haechan flipped you on your back and kissed the corner of your lips. There was something abnormally soporific about the way he tasted, because your eyelids began to weigh more than your body altogether. 

“That’s it, baby. Go to sleep,” Haechan whispered, lulling you to sleep with his gentle voice. 

There was nothing to fight. Your body lost all strength when you climaxed, and you succumbed to sleep in a matter of mere seconds.

“Atta girl,” was the last thing you heard before pitch black darkness bled into your vision. 

When you roused from your sheets in the morning, Haechan was - as expected - no longer there, but traces of last night remained. Your bed was a mess, but you were in shambles, hair tangled on your bed and your body stained with tears, scratches and bruises.

Humorously, though somewhat questionably, only none of his semen was there. You wondered if demons could get humans pregnant. 

You were elated, but somewhat disappointed. From the beginning, you were aware that you couldn’t see him again, but after last night, you were desperate. There was no way in hell he could show you a good time to simply never see you again. It was unfair. 

The sound of your front door being pounded mercilessly startled you and you jumped out of bed, scrambling to cover your bare body and then rushed to the door.

When you opened the front door, Ten awaited you on the other side.

“You look like hell,” commented Ten offhandedly. You were always in wonder at how vampires could roam in the daylight, but allegedly, it was courtesy of potions and spell work. 

“I had a long night,” you deadpanned. 

Ten chortled and stepped inside. “I’m sure.”

You shut the door behind the pair of you and led him to your bedroom where your sheets were a disheveled mess on your bed. Last night had left the board on the floor to be forgotten. 

Disinterestedly, you plopped on your bed. There was a question billowing like fog in your brain and you feigned your most indifferent tone when you asked, “Will he want to come back?”

Ten thought nothing of your question and shrugged, leaning over to pick up the materials you'd abandoned. “Depends. Demons know these… arrangements get messy. Some care, some like messy. It's not rare. Just in case, I’ll have a witch friend of mine fix a spell to ward evil spirits off.”

“Oh,” you replied, playing innocent. But that wasn’t what you wanted. You dwelled over last night and the thought of Haechan coming back for seconds. You weren’t special, that you knew. Demons of his kind has a nonselect variety to choose from, but you knew only he could pleasure you like that again. 

Like he was catching on, Ten added, “It’s not a good idea to give him a chance to get attached. Some demons are bitter and possessive. The moment they want you to be theirs, they’ll hurt you and anyone else who gets in their way in response to a perceived betrayal.”

His warning spooked you, but not by much. You assured Ten that you understood and would leave that night behind you. After all, with all the measures taken, it was out of your hands. 

One night became several. 

In your defense, you weren’t the one that summoned him. It was because of your energy. He always claimed he could feel you. You frequently laid brooding in your home, yearning for him to return. 

And then, he appeared. You knew when Haechan was there and when he wasn't. It was his presence. You could feel it in your chest. You couldn’t explain it, but whenever he was in range, a gust of cool air would sweep over your shoulders and a thick gale would strike your lungs, rendering you breathless. 

Haechan materialized in that same shroud of mist, snickering to himself when your startled figure trembled. 

You gawked when you saw him in full glory. “How the hell…” 

“Your friend isn’t the only one who knows a sorcerer,” Haechan grinned smugly. “I felt your yearning - did you miss me?” 

Oh, did you. You had spent the past couple of weeks trying to get yourself off the way that he had, but to no avail. There was only one remedy for you and you were forbidden to have him. 

“A little,” you admitted. Though you had a feeling he could see right through you, it was a lot easier to say compared to admitting you thought of how his hands felt on your body every time you touched yourself. 

“I think you missed me a lot,” Haechan teased, stepping closer. Meanwhile, you were riveted in place, unable to move. You gasped when his hands browsed up your dress, targeting your damp panties. “Are you saying this isn’t for me?” 

You tensed and whined, “Haechan.”

Haechan gave you a smile, the same devilish one he always wore. He slipped your panties to the side and brushed his slender fingers against your dampening cunt. “Tell me you missed me.” 

“I missed you. I missed you a lot,” you confessed without hesitation. “I… I’ve been thinking about you all day.” 

He cocked a brow and crammed a pair of fingers inside you. “Yeah? You been thinking about me fucking that tight little pussy?”

Your knees were bucking. You needed him more than you’d ever needed anything before in your life. “Please,” you cried. “Please, please…” 

The demon silenced you with a kiss that made you feel so light, you almost tipped over. He caught you in his arms and carried you to your bedroom. 

When you were finished, Haechan fell heaving at your side and groaned, “You’re always so goddamn tight.”

You giggled. “You love me.” 

Like you had said some forbidden word, Haechan switched on a dime and gave you a fair warning. “That’s the snag, baby girl. I can’t love you.”

That you knew, but it stung to hear aloud. You were by no means in love with the demon you'd only fucked on two occasions, but hell, he seemed like the best option. There was a bit of venom in your tone when you responded, “But you fuck me.”

“Yes. Because that’s what I do. I have sex with you needy little humans and drain you to death of your energy. Then the next one comes along and the cycle repeats. I can’t love you because you’re going to die some day, babe. Even sooner the longer you mess around with me.” 

You blinked. He was a hell of a lot more forthright than you expected. Haechan was going to fuck you within an inch of your life. Literally. 

That was how the cycle began. Haechan informed you of a simpler way to summon him and he began to visit you more often, stealing your nights away. You never mentioned him to anyone. If Haechan didn’t kill you in time, Ten would undoubtedly burn you alive. 

You loved spending nights with Haechan, and over time, those moments together bled into days and mornings. More often than not, you would talk the day away, discussing everything under the sun and moon. 

Six years ago. Those events culminated in this later two-part dilemma you’d brought upon yourself. 

Weeks turned into months. You were growing weaker. The venom was slowly killing you, contaminating your blood far beyond human reclaim. 

Additionally, everything the two of you had said about loving each other had gone terribly south. The more you got to know Haechan, the deeper you fell. And watching you fall drastically ill under his influence tore an unfamiliar feeling from his cold heart - fear. Losing you cooled his already icy blood. 

Haechan heaved a breath, trying to remain calm. The two of you knew that this would happened, but goddamn, he would have never predicted that he of all people would fall in love. It was almost laughable. “I can immortalize you, but there’s a catch.”

You eyed him expectantly. “Like what?” 

“You’ll watch the people you love die,” Haechan said morosely. “Your entire life will fade with your mortality.”

You frowned. That was a given, but you loathed the thought of that day. No matter how far in the future it may have been. There were always immortal beings to befriend at your disposal, but the current mortal ones - your family - would pass on without you. 

But even more, you loathed the thought of them having to bury you. You would take the pain in sacrifice if it meant they never had to feel the empty ache of lost. 

“Okay.” 

Haechan shot you a look. “Okay, as in what?” 

With shaky hands, you blew out a breath and told him, “I’ll do it.” 

Haechan interlaced your fingers between his and pulled you close. The last thing he wanted was to lose you, but he also wanted you to do this completely out of your own free will. “Are you sure? This isn’t some reversible shit. No take backs.” 

“I would rather bury my family than have them bury me,” you whispered fiercely. It was all you had the strength to do. “I made this mess, now I have to fix it. I can’t let them be miserable over a stupid mistake I made. I won’t.” 

Instead of recoiling from your slight outburst, Haechan held you even firmer. It was a sensitive spot for the both of you. There were available alternatives, none long-term. This was by far your safest option. 

Death was not an option. 

“If this is what you want,” Haechan said, like he was giving you one final chance to reconsider your choices. But you were firm in your decision. This was the price that you had to pay. “Everything will be okay. Baby, I swear.” 

God, you wanted to believe him with everything you had, but you were terrified. For as long as you'd known him, Haechan had always been more calm and self-controlled than you ever were, but even now you could see cracks in his demeanor. He wanted to be strong for the both of you, knowing you would shatter the moment he did, but this had him rending at threat of rupture. 

Haechan lowered himself to your height to be eye-level with you and asked, “Can you get dressed?” 

You bobbed your head. You weren’t completely deprived of your vigor. Not yet, although you had been passing through the days on preservation potions and the like. They could sustain you temporarily, but not for very long. 

The demon boy you loved brought you to a secluded area in the woods, timing your errand perfectly. Before dusk was preferable. Evil creatures lurked in the wilderness, preying on vulnerable humans like you. Not all were fond of humans and vice versa.

And you were already ailing. 

There was a tiny cabin across a river, lying at its bank. According to Haechan, it was home of a wizard. 

“Your friend’s a wizard?” you had asked. 

Haechan nodded. “Basically. But Mark prefers being called a warlock. Apparently, wizard is an offensive term that’s only used in fairytales. I still call him Wiz, though.”

You gave him a tiny nod. Many if not most magical beings lived in areas isolated from humanity. There was long, unaccounted for history between the two races and you couldn’t blame them for any resentment. 

But it also presented the fair chance that he wouldn’t want to help you. 

Haechan opened the door to the cabin and you treaded behind him like he was safeguarding you. There was a man behind a cauldron that billowed with green smoke. 

You took a glance around. The cabin was dim, sunlight filtering through the blinds of a single window upstairs. Candles and lanterns burned, scattered elsewhere. The warlock spared you not a glance, engrossed in his brewing, though you noticed a crystal ball on the table, reflecting a perfect view that overlooked the bridge. 

It most likely had warned him someone was approaching. 

Haechan put on his cheesiest smile and greeted, “Sup, Wiz. Been working out lately?” 

Mark slammed on the brakes and bristled. “Hell no. Whatever you want - the answer is no.”

Your demon boyfriend frowned, walking beside his friend to give a slight nudge to his side. “C’mon, bestie. I didn’t even ask for anything.”

Mark didn’t waste a second. “I know. And every time you compliment me, it’s only because you want something.” Then, the warlock shifted his gaze and seemed to finally notice you. “Who’s the chick - new piece?” 

Haechan rubbed his neck. “Yeah, about that…”

“Haechan, hell the fuck no,” Mark interjected as soon as he put the pieces together. “You know you have to talk to Johnny about that.” 

“See, that’s the thing. Johnny will kill me. And I’m technically already dead,” Haechan joked, trying to ease the mood. 

You swallowed like you could gorge all of your burdens with one gulp. Part of you was ready to accept that death was inevitable and tinkering with your fate was deadly. As a spirit from the underworld, maybe you could meet the boy you loved again, but you’d fade into a distant memory to everyone else you loved. 

Mark removed his spectacles and massaged his temple before he sighed. “Do you love her?” 

“Yes.” It was instant. He didn’t even need to consider it. That made you smile. 

“Like, for real?” Mark pressed. Like he was in disbelief. “I can’t waste time and casting energy on a pretty girl you just want to keep around for a little longer.”

Patience slowly dimming, Haechan snapped, “When have I ever cared if they lived or died, Mark?” 

You came to clutch his arm, and Haechan softened, switching on a dime. Much to Mark’s surprise. Even he couldn’t deny that you seemed to have an effect on Haechan - a grip that no else had. 

Haechan took a deep breath. “Look, my bad. But she’s special. I don’t know how it happened, it just did. And it would be easier to do a cord-cutting spell and toss her away, but I don’t want that. I want her.” 

A strained moment of silence passed before Mark finally groaned, “Fine.”

“So?”

“So, I’ll do the spell,” Mark said stubbornly. 

It felt like a weight was lifted from your chest and you could breathe easier when those words left his mouth. You watched Haechan’s face twist with relief, and he whirled you into his arms, hauling you with a supernatural strength that made you squeal and giggle. “Fuck. I forgot you’re not yourself,” he said and placed you back on the ground. 

You shook your head and smiled. Then, Haechan turned back to Mark with open arms and smirked. “Come here.”

Mark grimaced. “Absolutely not. I’m warning you. Come any closer and I’ll get Phantom.”

“Phantom?” you repeated, blinking. 

Mark whistled, and suddenly you heard a low caw fill the air. Then, you saw a creature fly from the single window at the speed of light and finally come to a rest at Mark’s shoulder. 

It was a raven. 

“My familiar,” Mark explained proudly. “Every warlock - and witchtress - has one.” 

Ignoring the way the raven - Phantom - was staring down your soul, you gave a quick nod and asked, “So, we’re really okay?”

“Yes. I’ll work on a spell for you as soon as possible,” Mark replied.

Haechan smiled and swept you into a kiss, then Phantom immediately began to caw as if she was trying to wake the dead. 

Haechan snickered and put his arms between you both. She was very prone to attacking. “Ladies, ladies. No need to fight. There’s enough Haechan to go around.” 

You snorted and rolled your eyes. But you were happy. You still had Haechan, and you always would. Nothing would come between you. Death or Phantom. 

Five years ago. 

Now, you were alive and well. And not only you, but someone else. 

After hours on your feet, you had never been more relieved to sit down. Ten eventually came to accompany you, having a good laugh at the weariness prominent on your face at your expense. 

“Tired?” he asked. 

“Try exhausted. I’m ready to drop,” you drawled. 

Ten laughed, then shook his head and smiled faintly. “Tell me how it’s been exactly four years and I still can’t believe I’m a godfather?” 

“Please,” you chortled. “They’re growing up so fast. I can’t keep up.” 

You had discovered the answer to a previous thought. Demons could get humans pregnant. As it turned out, you also had to confess to Ten that you’d been sleeping with Haechan for longer than he'd thought. After all, the evidence had been growing in your belly for nine months. 

Not one child, but two. 

Ten gave you a tiny nudge. “Haechan really did a number on you.” 

Through the corner of your eye, you could see him approaching and joked, “Speak of the devil.”

Haechan plopped down beside you, head in your lap, and said, “I’ve never had to work for anything in my life before those two.” 

You and Ten giggled. “Get off me, you big baby,” you said lightheartedly. “Who has them?” 

“Your mother,” Haechan replied, not budging like a boulder. 

Or so he thought. You were both caught off guard when your two four-year-old twins eagerly came running after you, refusing to give their mommy and daddy a break. 

Ten came to the rescue and leapt up, exclaiming, “Who wants cake?” 

As expected, your two tiny twins turned around as soon as they came, shouting, “Me!” Gratefully, you mouthed, “thank you” to Ten, who led the little army away to dessert. 

Haechan climbed into the seat beside you, and said, “We made this.”

“We did,” you replied, beaming. “And I love every part of it. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

“Me neither,” Haechan said, pressing a kiss to your lips. Now that the coast was clear, a mischievous smile crept onto his lips. “So, I was thinking that once we put the kids to bed, we could have our own little party upstairs.”

God, that sounded like heaven to you right now. “Say no more.”

Haechan snickered and lifted you into his lap. You rested your head against his lap comfortably. “I love you,” he whispered. 

“I love you, too,” you said, a smile tugging your lips.

Those three words summed up everything. There was so much you wanted to say. You wanted to tell him that you always wanted a family with him, that you wouldn’t have it any other way. That you knew in your heart that this was the way it was meant to be. But you settled for, I love you. And you settled because he already knew. 

“As much as we fuck, we should have expected twins.” 

Those words snapped you out of your train of thoughts and you stood to your feet. “Save it. We have a birthday party to celebrate.”

Haechan followed you, wrapping his arm around your waist. “Yes, ma’am. Mind if we go hit the dance floor in celebration?”

“Not at all,” you told him. 

And it was easily the most magical moment of your life being twirled around in Haechan’s arms, the rest of your little family soon coming to join you both.

[samsm2mstories]

Morning country wood

One thing I love is travelling to all those smaller countryside / outback communities. Often, you would find there's young hot guys who are straight and religious.

I saw this guy at the local store and found out he was called Norman. He was telling me about his dreams going into a bigger city, finding hot girls and having amazing kids.

Norman was exactly who I was after. We carried on chatting and we decided to meet up tonight for a BBQ and some beers. We clicked but he didn't know that I sensed his body was ripe and ready to be taken. I had a client who had a thing for hot country guys. Norman would be perfected and a big paycheck for me!

That evening Norman met me and I offered him a drink, he took it and not realising he has just consumed a serum. He slowly drifted away as I caught his soul in a small bottle. You can tell it was pure, so I just drank it for myself to give me a taste of his life. I felt my own soul turned into Norman's and I flew straight into his body.

In that instant I felt everything Norman wanted, experienced, dreamed off. That was all mine now. I'm now going to explore the city as him, I was going to sell this body but it's mine now.

This body couldn't handle the strong alcohol and I passed out until the morning. I woke up feeling fresh and young. I couldn't resist checking myself out and being in many bodies before, I had to start an OF up as I knew all those guys would want a taste of my country life. I spent a few days in my country home town doing content before leaving for the city. It's going to be fun as I still have my own life, but now as Norman.

I hope you like my morning wood skills, btw ;)

[see-arcane]

As I looked, the eyes saw the sinking sun, and the look of hate in them turned to triumph. But, on the instant, came the sweep and flash of Jonathan's great knife. I shrieked as I saw it shear through the throat; whilst at the same moment Mr. Morris's bowie knife plunged into the heart. It was like a miracle; but before our very eyes, and almost in the drawing of a breath, the whole body crumble into dust and passed from our sight. I shall be glad as long as I live that even in that moment of final dissolution, there was in the face a look of peace, such as I never could have imagined might have rested there.

I don't know what's getting to me about this scene this time around, but I can't help imagining a cinematic beat in which Dracula, head cleaved from his shoulders, steel through his heart, looks to Jonathan. Fire-eyed, white-haired, triumphant against his personal nemesis and would-be keeper at last.

For just a moment, Dracula is whoever he was before he was an inhuman monster. A great man? A warlord? A hero or a horror in human flesh depending on the history. But a man again, whatever else. He looks at Jonathan.

Maybe he sees him.

Maybe he sees someone else. Some long ago youth who lived and died and was remade in profane immortality for the sake of supernatural strength, taught by ancient Powers beneath a distant mountain. A youth who would sell his soul to accomplish his goal.

As the sun sets red, Dracula sees that long-ago youth victorious but not yet damned--the man conquering the monster--and, for the first time in centuries, thinks he sees his reflection. The hunter, the warrior, the victor. How strange not to see him in armor. When did you change your sword? Ah, well.

You did it just the same. You did it...

(What was his name before all this? Memory is cracking, turning to powder in his mind. His name is...his name was...)

((No, no, old man. He is not you. You know. You know he is--he's--))

Voiceless, his lips move. Red a final time as his throat's foam bleeds up and out of the stained mouth.

Thank you, my friend.

There is time enough to smile before he crumbles away to sleep.

[leiloc]

💣Astrology observations #7💣

DISCLAIMER : All the observations written below are from my research and DO NOT copy my work

I am apologizing for my absence so y'all are getting an observation now ♥❗❗

💥I noticed that a lot of people with taurus moon have most normal parents like I would sell my soul for that kind 👀

💥12th house can really tell about past life dominant sign. Ex. Taurus 12th house can mean that you were possessive of your belongings (either Taurus, 2nd house, Venus or 2nd house ruler dominant in past life)

💥Meeting people with sun in your 12th house reflects the person you were back in the past life. That's why you can find them either similar or you feel the energy A LOT

This can also mean that you might have had past life connections with them

💥Eris (136199) asteroid is where you feel lack of a specific aspect in your life depending on which house it lays and asteroid Sedna (90377) is betrayal from men (all depends from house to house)

💥Eris in 11th house means lack of social life, in 10th house little to no reputation, 7th house lack of partnerships (either love, coworkers, etc.)

💥Sedna in 7th house can mean betrayal from men who are your lover, coworker or smth like that, in 8th house they can betray your trust and your hidden self, in 2nd house it can mean loss of property because of them

I reccomend reading the stories about the name of those asteroids, it can make a lot of sense.

💥South node conjunct uranus can mean that the person can predict the things going on and they can be all random. It depends on house placement and aspects to those how is it performed

💥South node conjunct Neptune/SN in 12th house... That must be pain dreaming a lot about your past life or living in it still. Same for Uranus - SN, you SEE things happening

💥I don't know if i have written this before but asteroid Eros (433) conjunct personal placements in synastry can result in instant attraction

💥6th house indicates daily routine, medical problems and pets bur for now I will focus on medical problems. Having a sign in that house can indicate a problem with specific body part.

The list of body parts associated with zodiac signs will be posted soon and a lot of astrology - medicine associations will be posted

For now that's it and I hope you enjoyed this post and stay safe y'all ♥

[corruptedcaps]

Bitchy Besties: part 3

As Kate watched Tanya speed off around the corner and out of sight, she strutted confidently towards the school like she had seen Tanya do a hundred times. It wasn’t until she caught her reflection in the bathroom mirror that she realized what she was doing and finally dropped her bitchy facade. She had spent so much of the day as Kayleigh it was hard to shake her off entirely.

Retrieving the bag from her hiding spot she took one last look at Kayleigh in the mirror before stripping herself of all the elements that made her. The earrings, the necklace, the makeup, the clothes and finally the hair. The only thing she couldn’t take off were the new nails she had gotten but she made a mental note to at least file them down later.

All things that had previously felt odd and uncomfortable on her now gave her a pang of longing. She couldn't deny how much fun she had had with Tanya that day, having a friend who she was completely in sync with. But then she reminded herself that it wasn't Kate that Tanya was enamoured with, who she had found a kindred spirit in. No that was Kayleigh.

She should be happy to be back to being her normal self. And yet, getting home she threw herself onto her bed and began to feel conflicted and she couldn't understand why. She thought she hated girls like Tanya and before today the thoughts of being her friend was the last thing she wanted but something inside her was now pushing against that feeling, making her question herself.

Sitting up on the bed she looked at herself in her vanity mirror. She was at a crossroads. She could walk into school tomorrow as she had done for years being the same old Kate that others knew and ignored or she could strut in as Kayleigh, have a best friend and be popular and sought after. Looking down at her nails she had gotten with Tanya, the allure of the latter was obvious but she knew that she would be turning her back on the good part of herself and selling her soul to be a bitch. Could she do it?

The next morning Tanya sat into her seat in the back of her first class with her clique sitting around her. She should have felt like the queen she always felt like but for once she was feeling a little sad. She knew it had to do with Kayleigh. She had never clicked so easily and quickly with someone before and now surrounded by her betas she longed for the connection she had made with Kayleigh. Someone who upped her game. Another Alpha.

She looked around the class, considering for a moment the idea that any one of them could potentially be her bitchy bestie but her face quickly turned sour. The one silver lining was that the loser Kate who she loathed was apparently out sick as her seat was empty, although her creepy ex Cory was still here so maybe it wasn't all positive.

Tanya was daydreaming about transferring to Alpha Prep when their teacher called for attention.

"Now before we get started I have two quick announcements. First is that we have a new student starting today, so please give a warm welcome to Kayleigh." The teacher said starting an applause that was continued loudly by a now perked up Tanya.

Kayleigh strode into the class a vision in a tight black pants and even tighter black top outfit that she had bought yesterday with Tanya. Her steely gaze was only broken when she spotted Tanya and excitedly headed over to her.

"Rachel move over to that spare seat this instant! Kayleigh sits next to me from now on." Tanya said snapping at one of her insubordinates as Kayleigh arrived. Tanya stood up and embraced Kayleigh who returned the hug tightly.

"Oh babe I'm so glad you chose here, we are going to have the best senior year of all time." Tanya beamed as Kayleigh took her seat next to her.

"I just couldn't imagine having any fun anywhere else without a queen like you by my side." Kayleigh said.

"And now for the second announcement, I am sad to say that Kate, our highest GPA achiever, and her family have moved and so won't be joining us for her final year." The teacher said sadly before heading to his desk.

"This day just keeps getting better." Tanya said whispering to Kayleigh.

"Why? Who's Kate?" Kayleigh whispered back.

"Oh she was this loser nobody. As far as I'm concerned, this school got a massive upgrade with her gone and you in her place." Tanya said.

"I couldn't agree more." Kayleigh replied with a knowing smile.

As class was let out nearly an hour later, Tanya and Kayleigh were inseparable, walking together out of the classroom arm in arm while the rest of clique struggled to keep up. Kayleigh quickly asserted her dominance over the other girls and they fell in line loyally to their new co-Queen.

By noon the school was abuzz with gossip about the new girl Kayleigh. News quickly spread about her sexual history, her bitchy attitude and her beauty. The bullied lower class of the school had to know fear two mega babes.

“Tanya babes look at what this loser thinks passes for fashion these days, isn’t it tragic.” Kayleigh sneered at one unfortunate girl.

“Couldn’t agree more Kayleigh, her clothes, if you can come them that, are hurting my eyes.” Tanya replied coldly, shielding her eyes.

“You hear that dork, you’re physically hurting my Bestie, get lost before I physically hurt you.” Kayleigh said bearing down on the girl. Kayleigh felt her pussy tingle as she watched the girl flee. As soon as she was gone Kayleigh and Tanya giggled cruelly.

Before the end of the day the two of them could finish each other's sentences. Collectively they were soon known as 'Kayla', a two headed creature who was as formidable as they were beautiful.

However as connected to the hip as they were, Kayleigh excused herself near the end of the day for a moment and snuck into an empty classroom where inside she found Cory waiting.

"Alright loser you better have good news for me or I'll squeeze you puny dick into a cage. Although something tells me you'd only get off on that." Kayleigh snarled at Cory who had a strange mix of fear and arousal etched on his face.

"Y-yes of course. I hacked into the school system and added all of your, I mean, all of Kate's grades to yours. I also added you as a new transfer student and transferred Kate out of the school but you already know that." He said nervously awaiting her response.

"Good. Glad to see you're not entirely useless." She said distainfully as she turned to leave.

"A-aren't y-you going to t-thank me?" He said barely above a whisper but it was enough to stop her in her tracks.

"Excuse me?" She said wheeling around.

"W-well if it wasn't f-for me, you would h-have never p-put on the hair and b-become Kayleigh." He said, each word making him regret the last. In a flash she had her hand on his throat and was squeezing.

"Let's get on thing straight you pathetic worm, there is no magic hair, no transfer of power from Tanya to me or any bullshit like that. I just realised that I didn't want to be some loser nobody anymore, I didn't want to be an outcast freak like you. Kayleigh didn't take over Kate's body, Kate had stolen my body for 18 years. I just took it back, understand?" She said with genuine venom in her voice. Cory looked into her cold blue eyes and couldn't see Kate inside. He nodded feebly.

Dropping him to the floor, she walked slowly to the door still incensed, however she still needed him for one thing.

"Don't forget to hack into my father's workplace and give him that fat raise and promotion, I have a status to uphold." She said not even dignifying Cory with a look anymore but knew he was nodding intently. She couldn't waste anymore time, not when she had a school to run with her Bitchy Bestie.

THE END

[xfancyuu]

~ hold your breath, love dive. [aemond targaryen]

this is my first fanfic!!! this fic is also a repost, originally posted on 16th october 2022 on a different blog however i want all my work to be on this blog. reader is afab with she/her pronouns and has no appearance indicators. this fic has also been reformatted and edited, reposted on 7th april 2023.

premise: reader meets vhagar (my queen) [2,945 words]

The betrothal between houses Targaryen and Bolton was a choice not many had seen coming. You especially, you had gone from a girl who was content with the fact your father would marry you off to some Lord, and you'd live a life, you weren't sure if it had been a happy one, but it would have certainly been a life. You knew Aemond Targaryen was unpredictable, unstable even. He chose to claim a dragon as a pre-teen, stable wasn't something you'd use to describe him. He was chaos personified, like waves in the sea, uncontrollable, and you weren't sure what your father thought he was getting out of the arrangement. (You knew what he was getting out of the arrangement: power and selling off his only daughter was clearly the only way he'd receive such notoriety.)

The arrangement wasn't as horrific as you originally thought it would be, Aemond had seemed pleasant company though you were always in public, always chaperoned, so the man could not spend time truly alone with you, while your father wanted to marry you did not have your own opinions or goals in life, he did not trust the man you were to marry fully. Nor did you. You knew the tales of the women his brother ruined the reputations of, while his dutiful wife had to put up with his antics. You never knew how a man behaved behind closed doors, your brothers were a prime example of this for you. A prince was just a man after all and men were much different to the ladies you had spent time around. Kings Landing was entirely different in general, the styles, the hair, the people even, it was far too busy and put you on edge far too much.

They were dragons, both in sigil and temperament, you had thought. Each member of the family was equally fiery and hard to read, comparing them to the creatures which set them apart so vastly was a correct comparison in your opinion. Being around them made you feel powerful, that nobody could cross you, but you knew much better that politics can change in an instant — Rhaenyra and Rhaenys were proof of that. It scared you, being in the dragons pit.

Your time is spent with Helaena, she is a few years older than you though you think she is wise beyond her years, often telling you about the things she dreams about and often times speaks in riddles though you find her company more entertaining than most people. She understands you on a level which others do not, and you think in another timeline you would not be marrying her brother and she would not be married to her own husband, you would still be friends or perhaps more.

She doesn't want you today though, she claims she's ill with a sickness which is contagious — you'd get sick to spend time with her, you consider her your only true friend in this place, though Helaena being the kind sweet soul she is would never allow you to give yourself a sickness on her behalf. Suddenly you're alone, the day grows boring, the library is unappealing, you can only walk around a garden — no matter the size of it, so many times without growing bored. Needlepoint is tedious, and you think you could not cope if your life was to be like this once you were married. The garden however is where you find him, alone. It's the first time you've spent time together alone, and your palms feel sticky, and your heart is beating out of your chest. You don't know how you'll survive within a marriage when you cannot speak to the man without wanting to run away due to shyness.

"You avoid me far too much," he's the first to speak, you doubt words could process from your brain to your mouth to do so, "Do I scare you that much?"

You do not want to answer at first — perhaps he's talking about his presence or rather the scars he could not help, but you're strong, you're from the North and Northern girls aren't typically timid nor shy, "Why would I do that my Prince?" you can see how it would consider it mocking, but the playful tone in your voice indicates your intent. "Am I too fast for you to catch?"

You doubt you've thrown him off guard, though maybe that's why he had chosen you, "Do you think you are fast enough to outrun a dragon?" he asks.

"I do not know, you see I've never met a dragon nor seen one to know how fast they can be... though I have no doubt I can outrun one" you're being cocky, or perhaps you're flirting, you do not know which one would be better though you seem to amuse the price in question.

"Would you like to see one?" you don't know if it's a euphemism or if he's being serious, perhaps he does have a sense of humour after all.

"Hmm... I'm not too sure they would take kindly to those who aren't of Valyrian blood, what if one tries to eat me... I've heard the tales of the dragon who resides on Dragonstone who eats its own kind and humans alike." you're teasing him, who wouldn't want to see a dragon? You'd encounter them eventually, you surmised, it was hard to live in a family with such beasts without doing so.

"You know of the Cannibal?" his interest had piqued at that, your time with his sister had clearly come with advantages, learning more about the Targaryen family, the dragons owned (and not) by his family had interested him, next you'd surprise him by speaking Valyrian.

"Only what her grace, your sister, had told me about it, that apparently the dragon is older than Balerion the black dread — though it seems unrealistic and hearsay, your father rode him once did he not? Balerion I mean, —" your sentence was cut short by the prince, who was seemingly not paying attention to you, it was awkward for a few seconds before he excused himself.

Aemond had seemingly looked off to the side, as if being summoned though you didn't pay it much mind, the two of you were having an enjoyable conversation (well in your personal opinion, the prince may have just been conversing due to the fact his family didn't want the arrangement to sour due to his or your behaviours). Though, he had pulled away at seemingly the last second, muttering an apology and leaving you in the garden alone.

As fast as he'd disturbed your peace, he disappears almost as abruptly, almost making you wonder if you'd spoken out of turn and offended him somehow. And you could not help but notice how much lonelier you had become without his presence.

Some days had passed and the interaction with Aemond had lived within your head, when you weren't needed or doing something you'd thought back to the conversation, he was a seemingly lovely match and paid attention to you. Not that you could say the same for your parents, they hadn't known where you were or what you were doing most of the time, they only lectured you into behaving around the royal family, ladies do not laugh loudly, ladies do not spend more time daydreaming than needlepoint and ladies certainly do not frolic around the gardens unchaperoned. Helaena hadn't miraculously recovered, which meant your family continued to lecture you. Perhaps they were more irritated about the fact you weren't strengthening the bond of both families to ensure the marriage, as your mother had kindly put it. You were aware your family wanted more power, but the possibility of you getting sick while they were heightening their station could not have occurred to them.

Your days continued to be as boring as ever without Helaena's company you were beyond restless, your parents had told you to behave far too many times, so much you could recite their speeches. Though it didn't stop you from wandering alone — again. You wouldn't be shocked if it got back to them — again. However, just as the last time you were alone, Aemond Targaryen once again approaches you. Cockily as ever, though being a Prince of the Seven Kingdoms and having the largest dragon could perhaps have that effect on one's self-confidence.

"Lady Bolton, you are the exact person I was looking for," he once again spoke, he often left you speechless, from his undeniable beauty to the confidence he exuded — you had found out he wasn't always this way, gaining Vhagar had changed him, and you surmised it was most likely for the better. "If you can recall we spoke about dragons and I have reconsidered the terms of our arrangement."

This made your blood go cold, you were certain you had not offended the Prince, though with the way he'd looked at you during meal times you could see how speaking about the dragons which were an extension of his family could offend him. "Have you spoken to my father about this?" He wouldn't be happy, you knew him well enough to know that.

"You misunderstand me, my Lady," you were sure your heart would have stopped if it was not for the words he spoke, "I cannot marry you without being certain."

It was not a good conversation to be had, and you were almost panicking, and you were certain you saw a taunting glint within his eye, "I can assure you, our union would be fruitful, and you would be happy." You've been taught what it takes to be a wife from your mother, but she had never explained what it truly entailed, your words feel rehearsed and panicked and came out of your mouth far too fast.

"I cannot be happy without being certain that you could handle this life," you're not sure what he's talking about, you've handled court well, made friends, were well liked by most people, and before your mind drifted somewhere else to think of every single misdeed you'd done, he spoke again, "The dragons are loyal, they want to protect their riders, Vhagar especially so," there was something in his tone which told you, you were missing the context of this statement, "I would like you to meet her, hopefully she won't harm you."

You weren't sure what to think, on one hand seeing the marvellous and beautiful beast that she was, was a once in a lifetime opportunity, on the other hand you could be hurt, or worse. It was seemingly a deal breaker to Aemond, if you chose to say no he could easily break off the engagement without remorse, he's a man, they never face the repercussions of their own actions.

"When do you wish to plan this meeting?" you asked, you didn't fear much, and if a dragon harms you, burns you or eats you, you supposed there were worse, less dignified ways to have your life ended.

"I was heading there now and while you are unoccupied I had asked your father's permission," he can't say no to a prince, out of fear of offending, you knew that much.

"With the way some at court speak of you Aemond, I'm surprised you asked for permission," the playful tone in your voice was evident that you truly did not believe court gossip. "How could I ever say no to meeting the eldest dragon known to man? If she eats me it would be a happy day for me."

He finds you amusing, you can tell, he's poker-faced, but you can always tell by the subtle way his body moved closer to yours, "I hope she chooses not to, it would be a sad day. I'm afraid I would not know what to say to your father about the occasion, his only daughter, eaten by a dragon, how would he recover?"

"You don't know my father like I do, he'd spin some tale that I was courageous and chose to fight a dragon and paid for it with my life." You're divulging far too much about your personal family life now, you're giving him too much insight and unnecessary information which could be used against you in a moment's notice. "However, I am not going to let a dragon eat me today, my outfit simply will not allow it."

The journey to the largest dragon currently roaming freely was not as daunting as you'd originally thought, the nervousness you were feeling in your stomach hadn't subsided. Though, you could almost feel the anticipation radiating off of Aemond. Perhaps he wanted a show, perhaps he wanted to see how you'd react to such a magnificent creature, or perhaps he wanted to see Vhagar burn you alive.

She was there, laying and looking lethargic, or maybe she was simply not wanting to live life any more, she was beyond the size you had imagined, though something about her looked gentle. She hadn't harmed Aemond when she was a child and this made you feel safer, along with her rider being there, maybe he'd calm her with his presence. "Are you bonded to her?"

"In what way?" Aemond asks, keeping you behind him while he spoke in Valyrian — words you couldn't understand but if you were to have children in the future you should take note to learn.

"Can you feel what she feels, can she always feel your presence? Does she know when you're in trouble?" The questions come from your mouth before you can stop them, "You're speaking to her right now, are you not? Are you telling her to be on her best behaviour?"

"Did you not know we're always on our best behaviour." His response had made you laugh, you couldn't help it, if it had came from any other person you would have believed it. "Do I amuse you?"

"Yes very much so," Vhagar is stirring now, being so big she looks heavy to even move her head properly, you'd fear her moving her body without injuring anybody within the surrounding area. "It's a good sign she hasn't eaten me yet, isn't it."

"Don't be fooled by her, she's cunning, but she favours the brave." he spoke.

"Would she consider me brave if I were to touch her?" You ask, already moving forward however Aemond hadn't chose to stop you, perhaps he thought you too foolish for your own good.

"Isn't that what we're here for? You're to meet her and she chooses if we marry." Now you knew the motive. There was so much more than what met the eye with Aemond and you'd do well to remember that.

Taking slow and steady steps towards Vhagar was the easy part, she had emitted heat, much like the dogs your father chose to keep around in the Dreadfort. It was hard to stay away from her, she was utterly captivating, and it did not stop you from placing a hand on her. You don't doubt that you looked like an ant to her, tiny and easy to destroy with one singular movement. However, she stayed in place, letting out what sounded like a sigh. It was a good sign for you to continue touching her, it's not at all what you had expected her to feel like, she had felt warm and inviting despite her intimidating appearance. She was like her rider in more ways than he'd ever let the world know.

"You weren't serious about her eating you, were you?" Aemond asks, while you're completely mesmerised by how big and docile she was, your hand still holding the dragon's warm scales while Aemond's presence was felt closely behind you.

"Seeing her up close, I fear I misjudged her," and you goes unsaid. "She seems lonely and I wish she had more company, do you keep her company often? When you're not at court?"

"I suppose I too would be lonely if I lost Balerion and Meraxes." He confesses, "But she is well taken care of, I can assure you."

"There are tales of you claiming her, that you were a child and the only one brave enough to go near her," the stories are fabricated most of the time, "That you lost the eye for the dragon, was it worth it?" you hadn't approached the topic of his long gone eye, though you fear you may have offended him when he does not speak straight away.

"A dragon is a great price for something so small as losing an eye" he spoke though you can tell there's melancholy within his tone, you were so close now, incredibly so, never had you been so close to a man. "It does not frighten you does it?"

"You lost an eye for a dragon, why would that frighten me, my prince?" it's a question he can't answer because he's the one who's finally speechless. "Are you fulfilled in the answer you so desperately sought from this encounter?"

"I think I have all the answers I need," he had pulled you away from Vhagar ever so gently, it was the softest you had ever felt the man, "I shall tell your father we shall be married as soon or as late as you wish to do so."

"When we are married will you let me fly with you?" the answer was unspoken, he'd take you to the ends of beyond the wall if you so much as wished it. Perhaps the marriage was the perfect match despite being arranged, he'd found somebody as equally obsessed with dragons as he'd once been.

as stated before, this is a repost and not entirely a rewrite, just an edited version of mistakes i realised i made months ago. i hope y'all still enjoyed this. crossposted on ao3 under the name hedonism.

[opioidenjoyer]

SUBSTANCES IVE TAKEN

(RANKED) 🏴‍☠️❗️

Marijuana: 10/10 (No withdrawals, no comedown, high leads to sleep, gateway drug, multiple ways to consume)

Cocaine: 5/10 (Cant eat, cant sleep, super human ability for 10mins, never enough)

Oxy/hydrocodone: 9.5/10 (i would sell my soul to nod forever, agonizing withdraws, tolerance fast, pain receptors shut off)

MDMA/Ecstasy/Molly: 8/10 (easily best party drug, solo rolling is mid, serotonin levels ruined for days)

LSD/Acid: 6.5/10 (amazing visuals, brain full reset, 8-12 hour high is way too long, dopamine drainer, research chemicals NBomes are trash, burnt out easily, could unlock underlying mental health problems)

Psilocybin/Shrooms: 8/10 (best psychedelic, upsets stomach because of fungus, bad trips more likely at higher dosages, micro-dosing saved lives, naturally produced, can be done with every day life)

Benzodiazepines: 7.5/10 (too many chemical derivatives, potential life ruiner, fatal withdraws, anxiety nonexistent, thief abilities heightened, memory loss)

Robitussin, Coricidin, Dextromethorphan: 6.5/10 (instant dissociative, if mixed with Guaifenesin its a bad time, steal these from supermarkets)

Nitrous Oxide: 6.5/10 ("fill up my balloon again stop playing")

Air/Gas/Whippet Duster Inhalant: 2.5/10 (added chemicals make usage ALMOST impossible to inhale, taste like battery acid for 10 second high, brain cell damage, stay away)

Benadryl/Diphenhydramine: 4/10 (most irritable drug, feels like spiders crawling on your skin while high, shadow people, noise distortion, easy to get over the counter)

Methamphetamine: 4.5/10 (functional tweaking until you realize you are waiting for the pawn shop to open, can find this high in other drugs with less side effects, in 35% of most molly, overall bad reputation)

Fentanyl: 2/10 (highest level of nodding, waves of body heat, worst drug of all time, ruined the opioid game, kills almost all of its users, countless accidental overdoses, 10cents per pill, RIP real percs)

DMT/N,N-Dimethyltryptamine: 5.5/10 (breaking through spiritual barriers, out of body experiences, too powerful to be recreationally, trip sitter recommended)

Promethazine: 4/10 (does nothing when taken by itself, good when taken with other opioids, makes stomach feel better)

Lean/Codeine: 7/10 (2011-2021 best era to sip drank in, fun to pour up, easy to get at the time, euphoric body high, trend sippers, price inflation, weak opiate, too much sugar)

Tramadol: 6.5/10 (beginner nodderville, itching, weaker lame cousin to Oxycodone, still in the opioid family)

Adderall/Dextroamphetamine/amphetamine: 5/10 (Not fun when you actually have ADHD, recreational use does not make sense, highest level of functioning addict)

Morphine: 9/10 (instant trip to nodderville, good member of the opioid family, doctors are stingy with this)

Salvia: 3.5/10 (almost unexplainable high, dissociative, can find better effects in a psychedelic while smoking marijuana, very short high 1-5mins)

Heroin: still have not tried yet :(

[royonninjago]

Now that attention from my recent "Evil Jay" post has died down a bit...

Damn, I was NOT expecting that to blow up like it did. Broke my previous note record by almost triple. Truly amazing! However, the popularity of this post also kind of unintentionally proved something to me, and now I'm curious to take it a step further. However, just keep in mind that since we have no idea where the future of Dragons Rising is headed, all of this could change in an instant. With that said, here it is:

People seem really desperate at this point to get Jay back to the Ninja with his memories and soul intact. And since this show is primarily designed to sell Lego products, I doubt they wouldn't bring the status quo back to some level of normalcy for Ninjago. However, as I've seen with many posts aside from my own, people are having a lot of fun with this "Evil Jay" and want there to be some sort of consequence for all this happening.

Therefore, I propose this idea. What if whatever process ends up happening to bring back Jay also has a side effect? Because this one body of the Master of Lightning basically has two different people with two drastically differing life experiences, this side effect basically splits Jay into two people, regular ol' pre-merge Jay that everyone knows and loves and his now his post-merge doppelganger self! Neither have any memory of their time as the other, and we can have Jay both back with the Ninja and out there roaming around doing whatever non-canonical adventure comes up at the same time! Like having your cake and eating it too!

Again, no one knows how this Evil Jay plot is going to end up so maybe a year from now this post will seem absolutely ridiculous, but its fun to dream, and theorize, and write angsty fan-fiction about emotionally damaged wolf boys with electric powers!

If anyone wants to take this idea and use it for their own purposes, go ahead! All I ask is that you let me know about it, cause I like reading that kinda stuff. But, here are some ideas I've had for this character if you wanna know my take on it! My very own sudo "OC" if you will:

This new doppelganger's name is "Ranga", and its one I've used in my fan fiction. I explained my reasoning in another post, but it comes from an anime character who is a wolf that can control storms, and I think it's fitting for a former Master of Lightning and Wolf Clan member. He might also keep the last name "Walker", idk

His new body is that of a Formling who can change into a dark blue wolf with neon blue highlights. His human form is nearly identical to Jay's except for any newly obtained scars, dark bags under his eyes, and very obvious wolf ears and a tail

Once in his new body, be becomes the Elemental Master of Electricity. It's very similar to Lightning, like with Heat and Fire, but with some major caveats. Electricity is weaker than Lightning and he can't generate any on his own, but he can pull from anything with power running through it and it's much easier to control the output. This better control over output makes it better for stunning people and controlling various electrical systems than Lightning.

Overall has a pretty negative opinion of the Ninja and most other people (because of the whole "no one wants me" thing in my last post), with the exception of Jay who tries pretty hard to win him over, since this is the first person he's met who could be considered a biological relative of his.

Over time, his opinion of the Ninja would probably soften a bit (with the exception of Nya for the drama and maybe an unrequited crush thing going on), but he still has enough of a chip on his shoulder to never want to become an official Ninja.

And that's it! If you have any questions or have any opinions about "Evil Jay", I would absolutely love to hear them!

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Hii, I was the anon from the makeup request, the one with the bachelors

I love it! thanks for your answer, but now that I read my ask I realized I wrote it all wrong 🤡

What I wanted to ask is what you think would be their reaction if the farmer asked to put make up on them. Like, it may be something basic or some of that "turning my bf into a kpop idol" type of makeup

I hope you don't mind me asking again 😅

Ooooh, you mean that.

Of course, I don't mind writing about this scenario at all! Let's consider it a continuation of that headcanon. Thanks for the question 💕🫰

Stardew Valley:

Alex:

"Hon, why don't you ask someone else? Haley, for example?"

Alex isn't particularly happy about the very idea of make-up, thinking it's a 'girly things'.

"Honey, you sat with a face mask for two hours yesterday." "That's different!"

Still agreeing to Farmer's request.

Alex didn't like the make-up. No, Farmer did it all right, it's just the sheer feel of make-up... The athlete wants to wash it all off.

"Sorry, love, not for me."

Shane:

"Sure, why not."

Shane had already tried make-up on himself when he was in Emily's clothes therapy, so this wasn't new to him.

True, he'll grumble if the make-up takes longer than an hour.

But the results! Shane looks like a cool metal star!

The Farmer is happy with his work. Shane is happy as well.

Elliott:

Elliott sure spends a lot of time and money caring for his gorgeous hair.

Face cosmetics, on the other hand....

Sure, scrubs and face masks are in his kit too, but he's not really a fan of foundation and eyeliner.

"My soul, I just try to look naturally beautiful!" ("Nothing against the make-up itself, though.")

If Farmer wants the most minimal make-up, however, the writer will go along with it.

Sam:

"Sure, baby! Make me a rock star!"

Easier said than done, because Sam keeps fidgeting as Farmer tries to apply his rock band make-up.

"That tickles!" "Sam, don't move!"

Very pleased with his cool make-up.

Sam will take a hundred selfies of himself and Farmer and brag about how talented his partner is and how cool he is.

Will wear make-up all the time (until Jodi makes him wash it off).

Sebastian:

As I said earlier, Sebastian uses eyeliner (I'll fight with everyone for that headcanon).

So he'll always be happy to have Farmer help him.

Sebby hasn't really tried the other facial cosmetics, but he won't refuse Farmer when they ask.

Stands as steadfast as a statue.

Super ultra emo make-up done! Everyone's happy.

Harvey:

"Oh, no, darling. I shouldn't."

In fact, Harvey had once considered it to disguise skin imperfections on his face.

However, the finicky doctor would take a long time to go through the cosmetics.

"How, in the Yoba's name, do they even sell these things? They're bad for the skin. And this foundation has been the cause of allergies in many of my patients!"

To be honest, Harvey would be more against make-up than for it. His skin health is more important to him.

Stardew Valley Expanded:

Magnus Rasmodius:

Heh. Good luck to them, with his thick beard....

"Should I shave it off-" "No."

Magnus finds it unnecessary, so he politely declines the idea.

"Then how do you know the instant make-up spell?" "A talented wizard is talented at everything."

Farmer can try to do his make-up in his sleep, but if he wakes up, Farmer will levitate the rest of the night.

Victor:

On the one hand, Victor does not consider make-up as something important for him.

On the other hand, the Farmer looks at him with puppy eyes...

"Well, okay..." A rather strange feeling for him. But the result amazed him.

Victor looks quite fresh now, and yet the make-up is unnoticeable. It's like it's not even there!

"Okay, I take it back, honey. It was a good idea."

Lance:

Oh, Lance does care about his appearance, that's undeniable. But he devotes more time to his hair and scrubs than to his facial cosmetics.

The adventurer will politely decline heavy makeup. Especially - in this heat on Ginger Island.

However, if it's something as inconspicuous and light as possible, he'll let the Farmer work on his face.

"Why do you need a makeup spell then?" "A talented wizard is talented at everything, my love."

We've heard that somewhere before...

[world-of-aus]

Never Been The Type To

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky x Mobster!Reader

Warnings: Cliff Hanger????

Author's Note: An accompanied piece to Tell Me I've Been Lied Too! I'm not sure where I will be taking these pieces but if y'all are interested I'll try and see where I can take this. Hope you all enjoy this follow up! Happy Readings Buns.

The shipment was torn into, bullet casings strewn amongst the wooden framing that adorned the floor of his warehouse. The longer he looks at the damaged goods the harder his jaw clenches, teeth grinding, as he looks over what will set him back months to replace. “Security’s been taken care of,” Steve calls from behind him flanking his side as he joins his boss, eyes assessing the scene. 

“Cameras catch anything?” 

Steve’s silence is enough to have Bucky sending his foot into the already damaged crates, the wood splintering further under his foot as the fire burns within him, rage all consuming. “What the fuck am I paying for then!” the brunette all but growls as he rounds on his best friend getting in his space. “No one,” he points to the doors behind Steve, “No one should have been able to get to these crates without a bullet between their eyes, do you know how far back this sets us? Do you know how much money I've lost to this? Give me something Rogers, something other than Security's been taken care of!” 

Steves hard gaze is undeterred, “whoever did this knew what they were doing, they’re not some chump hired off the streets, it could have been a rat.” 

Bucky’s jaw clenches as he glares his concierge down, “you telling me that you let a rat fly under your radar unnoticed,” he growls poking Steve in the chest, “don’t think Wilson would let something like that happen if he had your rank.” Steves features mirror his, “not what I'm saying,” the blonde grits teeth bared, “but this person knew what they were doing Barnes, they took out the cameras, took out our men and our cargo in a matter of minutes, whoever this is has it out for you.” 

The brunette turns away from his friend, cold eyes going back to the problem at hand, “I took care of every last person who would even think of pulling some shit like this when I went after those who wronged my father.” Steve doesn’t have to say your name, for Bucky to know what he’s thinking, “she doesn’t have the drive to pull something like this,” Bucky lies turning away from his friend. “We can’t scratch her from the list,” Steve murmurs, “you lied to her, betrayed her trust, you murdered her father in front of her!” 

Bucky’s on Steve in an instant his hands curled around the lapels of his collar, “I did what I had to do,” he growls, “she wasn’t made for this life Steve, couldn’t even see the corrupt shit her old man was doing behind her back, I had to do it! Her father was ready to sell her soul for the next big thing!” 

“So you to lie to her, couldn’t be the bigger man and tell her what was going on? Had to be just like daddy?” Steve knows he deserves the fist to the face, but he also knows his boss needs to hear it, Steve had never agreed to what Bucky felt he needed to do you that night. Couldn’t stand at his best friends, stand at his bosses' side, the night he murdered your father. Steve knew your father deserved it with what he had planned for you, but he couldn’t agree with how Bucky went about it. “Feel better big man,” Steve spits, blood splattering the concrete, Bucky pushes him away, “Go home Rogers, you’re done here.” 

“You think letting yourself into her home is going to make matters any better for you,” Steve calls after Bucky. “I’m getting answers Rogers, answers you all have failed to give me, go home to Peggy, you’re done.” 

Your back was to the wooden oak doors of your office, cooled glass in hand as you look out the French windows of your home. It was dark out, your security having gone home for the night after inspection of your property, your father wouldn’t have agreed to the new change implemented, but they had families; loved ones who waited up for them, waited for their safe arrival home. 

You swirl the cube of ice in your cup, bringing it to your lips as you swallow down the last of the amber liquid. You pretend not to hear the soft creak of your office door, the cautious steps into your office. You wait, “you have a death wish?” You chuckle placing the empty glass down onto your desk before you’re turning to face the man you once thought was the one. 

You wondered if the ache in your chest would ever wane. 

“If it’s my time, it’s my time,” you answer voice void of any emotion, “to what do I owe the pleasure?” 

In the dim of the office you catch the tick of his jaw, he’s annoyed, good. “Your dad’s gone and you just let your guard down? Anyone could just walk in and” he points his fingers at you in the representation of a gun going off right between your eyes. The laugh you let out is cold, “you’re the reason he’s gone James. Is that why you’re here asking stupid questions? You come to end my life the way you ended my fathers? Shame, was expecting you sooner than this, you’re slacking.” 

The tick is more prominent, you’re getting under his skin, “I think you and I both know why I'm here.” You raise a brow, “no actually I don’t, care to let me in or are you going to leave me in the dark like you always did.” “Cut the shit y/l/n the cargo,” he grits, “you’re the only one who could have pulled an operation like that, you knew -” 

You cut him off with a loud laugh, “you’re here because someone fucked with your shit and you think it was me?” “My men are dead because of you,” he growls. Your lips are set in a thin line as you stare the brunette down, “No your men are dead because of you. Not everyone has a vendetta to get those who wrong them Barnes, and my condolences to your men’s family but whoever fucked with your shit it wasn’t me. The day my father died was the day I vowed to myself never to be seen with the likes of you again.”  

“If it wasn’t you then who was it? I made sure to take care of every last person who wronged my father, you’re the only one who could have -” 

“Get out,” you grit, “I said get the hell out of my home Barnes!” you yell when he doesn’t move. “I want nothing to do with you, I don’t want to know anything about you, I hate you, I hate what you’ve done to me, who you’ve made me. I have lost so much because of you, I won’t let you take anymore.” 

His lips part but you hold a finger up, head casted down as you will the knot in your throat away, “Get out. Please.” 

The tick returns, but he doesn’t go against your word as he turns on his heel. It takes a lot of you not to crumble, your features stoned as you heave in shaky breaths. You turn to the desk picking up your burner unlocking the device as you pull up your messages. Opening the only message that sits there you draft up a reply, a file going attached with your warning. 

‘This is all I know. Don’t let your guard down, he’s coming for all of you.’ 

With notification that your message had been received you're sending the device crashing into the floor, your heel cracking straight through the screen glass. 

[sciatu]

CERAMICA DI SANTO STEFANO DI CAMASTRA

Anche oggi non ti ho detto che ti amo, Preso dagli affanni del giorno, dal leccare la vita per capirne ipocrisie e falsità, ho dimenticato di dirti che ti amo. O meglio, nel silenzio del giorno e nel nulla dei suoi attimi, non ho trovato tra le sue ombre e le parole vuote del mondo, il momento giusto per parlare al tuo cuore, per dirti di quanto ci lega, per confessare quello che ferma il tempo per creare un istante, un minuto delle nostre vere vite. Non volevo sconsacrare le parole che dovevo dirti, non volevo svendere il tesoro che mi doni, liquidare tutto nella banalità del quotidiano, per amarti per contratto, o glorificarti per noia. Non volevo svendere per poco, quello che sarebbe diventato il senso del giorno, nascondere tra consigli per gli acquisti e stragi degli innocenti, l’unico respiro dell’anima mia. Era troppo importante, anche se era naturale, era troppo semplice anche se è un giuramento quotidiano fatto alla tua vita perché sia la mia vita. È troppo banale sprecare quello che vuol dire amarti, è infantile ripeterlo, è assurdo pretenderlo anche se è necessario confermarlo ogni giorno, scriverlo nell’aria che ci divide, sognarlo nelle nostre notti, scambiarcelo nelle nostre carni, così che i nostri corpi siano il forziere, la vigna ed il mare di quello che proviamo, dell’ebrezza che ci scambiamo, delle emozioni su cui navighiamo. Un altro giorno muore senza averti detto che ti amo, Un altro giorno scivolato via senza sapore, diventato un anonimo giorno di pieno inverno, dove non vi sono colori, il sole è malato, il vento impazzisce e il mare diventa nemico. Eppure lo so, lo so bene, che solo quando ti dico che ti amo, il tempo ha un altro sapore, i miei affanni si sciolgono e tu mi rivesti con i sorrisi della primavera. Perché l’amore è un assegno in bianco che qualcuno ti dà e che tu devi spendere il giorno stesso perché domani non avrà più lo stesso valore e nessuno ti potrà garantire che domani ce ne sarà uno eguale. Un assegno gratuito che devi spendere in quel momento scrivendo il valore che tu dai a chi te lo ha dato. Ma se scrivi troppo o troppo poco, sei tu dopo, che dovrai pagare il doppio della cifra che hai scritto. Per questo, non dirti oggi che ti amo, è tenersi in mano quell’assegno incapace di spenderlo, incapace di sognare, incapace di volare, incapace di trasformare il grigiore dei palazzi in un intimo paradiso

Even today I didn't tell you that I love you, Caught up in the worries of the day, in licking life to understand its hypocrisies and falsehoods, I forgot to tell you that I love you. Or rather, in the silence of the day and in the nothingness of its moments, I didn't find among its shadows and the empty words of the world, the right moment to speak to your heart, to tell you how much binds us, to confess what stops time to create an instant, a minute of our true lives. I didn't want to desecrate the words I had to say to you, I didn't want to sell off the treasure you give me, liquidate everything in the banality of everyday life, to love you by contract, or glorify you out of boredom. I didn't want to sell off for a little, what would have become the meaning of the day, hide among shopping tips and massacres of innocents, the only breath of my soul. It was too important, even if it was natural, it was too simple even if it is a daily oath made to your life for it to be my life. It is too banal to waste what it means to love you, it is childish to repeat it, it is absurd to demand it even if it is necessary to confirm it every day, to write it in the air that divides us, to dream it in our nights, to exchange it in our flesh, so that our bodies are the treasure chest, the vineyard and the sea of ​​what we feel, of the intoxication we exchange, of the emotions we sail on. Another day dies without having told you that I love you, Another day slipped away without flavor, become an anonymous day in the middle of winter, where there are no colors, the sun is sick, the wind goes crazy and the sea becomes an enemy. And yet I know, I know well, that only when I tell you that I love you, time has another flavor, my worries melt away and you dress me with the smiles of spring. Because love is a blank check that someone gives you and that you have to spend that same day because tomorrow it will no longer have the same value and no one can guarantee you that tomorrow there will be an equal one. A free check that you have to spend at that moment by writing the value that you give to the one who gave it to you. But if you write too much or too little, it is you later, who will have to pay double the amount you wrote. For this, not telling you today that I love you, is holding that check in your hand incapable of spending it, incapable of dreaming, incapable of flying, incapable of transforming the grayness of the buildings into an intimate paradise

[gloriousburden]

So much fucking AI generated content on Pinterest. It’s every single image when you search something up at this point. It’d be a lot less insufferable (albeit, still insufferable) if it were mandatory for people who “create” and post that shit to put a disclaimer/somehow sort it under AI generated so it could be hidden/filtered through by those who have no interest in it.

If AI generated content HAS to be a thing, it should be organized in a separate division from everyone else. They “create” and enjoy their AI shit amongst their own crowd, and we don’t have to see it. We need restrictions and regulations on it ASAP.

It shouldn’t be mainstream and heavily accepted especially in such an early stage where it is ever evolving, and all these apps/websites should stop pandering. Especially on apps/websites like Pinterest where human creativity and authenticity is supposed to thrive. We’re all supposed to connect due to our shared love of everything from recipes, to anime girl fanart, and AI takes that away.

AI should not replace human passion. It should not replace human creativity and human skills. Learning skills is not an inconvenience, and it is ALWAYS rewarding. Learning how to draw and getting to see your practice and hard work come into fruition is rewarding.

Writing stories/fanfiction and finally getting to start off the plot line you were most excited for after finishing writing the plot line you were becoming really bored with, is rewarding. You learn, and you grow from these experiences, Even “boring��� work/practice is rewarding whether you realize it at the moment or not.

Lyrics from one of my favorite Björk songs:

“Lust for comfort

suffocates the soul

Relentless restlessness

Liberates me (Sets me free)

I feel at home

Whenever the unknown surrounds me”

You have to do things that are “boring.” You have to do things that are uncomfortable and foreign. That’s how you learn. Not every part of acquiring new skills or learning something new is going to be easy or make sense immediately.

If some experiences were not boring, then the other experiences would not be enjoyable. If you are constantly comfortable, comfortability loses its appeal. We’ve gotten too reliant on comfortability and instant gratification. (Insert Tom Hiddleston talking about delayed gratification on Sesame Street)

What would be the point if there were no challenges? It would all be quite unfulfilling, and you’d stay the same. You wouldn’t learn to look at things differently and challenge yourself.

And I saw someone selling earrings with AI generated images on them without disclosing the fact that the images were made with AI. It’s kind of a scummy thing to do when people are likely buying your shit because they value authenticity and would like to support a likeminded person with creative passions rather than supporting corporations who mass produce shit with no passion except a passion for greed.

How do corporations nowadays have more passion than someone selling something on a site like Etsy where self made items, diy, and creativity are the main focus? Why stoop that low?

Remember, you’re supposed to be the alternative to PURE greed.

Let’s bring back being passionate about creative hobbies and let’s bring back mastering skills out of love for said skill. Out of love for creativity and expressing yourself through what you created. Let’s bring back authenticity and wanting to share your own authenticity with others.

How does this not scare people? That others are no longer passionate about anything? That human beings have become so fucking lazy, that even some of the most fulfilling things you can do in life are too much work?

So lazy, that they’d be more satisfied with typing prompts into a website so a machine can generate literal internet slop made from preexisting art/images on the internet rather than them creating something themselves and getting to make all the creative choices and have every last detail be theirs to decide.

And I didn’t even get into how fucked up it is that AI has little to no regulation/restriction. It’s fucked up that images can be made depicting public figures of any kind. Anything, and anyone. Singers, Actors, Comedians, Politicians, literally everyone.

It’s fucked up that voices can be made to say anything. To sing anything. To declare anything.

But go on, keep feeding the machine because you were too lazy to pick up a fucking pencil to draw one of your OCs. See where your laziness and lack of passion gets us all.

Mind you, people used to be happy to draw their own OCs. Putting them in new outfits and such and maybe even giving them new haircuts. We have lost every plot, because people are too busy acting out those plot lines out with AI chat bots instead of with other human beings. They’re too busy feeding prompts to a machine before they could even think for themselves about how they would want the plot to go.

TL;DR: FUCK AI!!

[regexkind]

The next painting I shall attempt to sell is one that I had, previously, been confident was marketable even to the most benighted of rustics. It, and its subject, seemed built for a saloon. But once again I have overestimated the barkeeps of the American West, for none of these tragic illiterates can recognize true art, even when it is thrust into their faces. In fact, they generally responded by thrusting me into the street or telling me that I had "had quite enough", as though it were possible for a grown man to become inebriated on that horse’s urine that they insist on calling ale.

I can only hope that you, prospective buyer, have more taste and discernment than the primitives on whom I have been wasting my talents. In describing this objet, I would be well-advised to start with the title and, in full honesty, admit that it is not fully accurate. Does it depict the cleaning of a gun? Yes, it does. Does it depict a Texan? That as well. But can it properly be said to be a study? That is much more questionable, because I was never able to make the subject sit to be painted. Actually, I was never able to do so much as talk to him¹. Therefore, I worked from memory, which can hardly be called a study, yet I remain convinced that every detail is accurate.

I was standing on the verge of a dusty trample which was called ‘Main Street’ in a collection of canvas and tar-paper which was called a ‘town’, when, through a crush of mostly unwashed bodies, I saw him. I was suddenly struck by the profound certainty that he was alien to this land. This was, of course, a foolish thought. This was one of these little tumbleweed towns that appears and disappears in a matter of weeks. No-one was from here, and no-one would stay here, and in a few years, no-one would even remember it². Yet I was certain that this man was not from here. He stood out from the crowd, as a single tree does when illuminated by a bolt of lightning. He was tall, and lean, with a face weathered more by frigid wind than by scalding sun. He had a mustache, not too dissimilar from my own, save that it was black rather than auburn and was, I think, unwaxed. His eyes were his most striking feature, a singular, piercing Arctic blue.

“Sir!” I called. “Sir! In the names of all the Muses, halt! Never in all my days have I seen a more fitting model! Please, I will pay you-”³ For a moment I thought I had his attention, but I cast my gaze downwards to survey the contents of my coin purse⁴ and when I raised my eyes again, he was gone as completely as if he never was.

Had I been taken alive into the very bowels of Tartarus, my sense of grief and misfortune could scarcely have been greater than that which besieged me in that dread instant. But fortunately, I am a stalwart soul, and after swaying on the spot, soon recovered my faculties and availed myself of the only tool at my disposal: my sketchbook⁵. Heedless of the dirty sidewalk, I sat and immortalized the man’s visage in graphite.

Later, still alight with that divine inspiration, I retreated to my study and composed the painting which I titled Cleaning His Gun: A Study of a Texan. Although I am proud of the ornate details which suffuse even the backgrounds of most of my works, I here bowed to convention and, as is appropriate for a portrait, rendered the background in a moody swirl of dark oils. The viewer’s focus is solely drawn to the Texan, and how could it not be? How can one not be compelled by fire in the darkness, or drawn to the lone well in the barren wastes, longing for the taste of sweet water?

The Texan’s posture could be described as half-recumbent–if that turn of phrase could be employed to describe a chair supported only on two of its four limbs. The term recumbent, however, describes a form of slothful or indolent inaction. Stationary, certainly–but indolent, no. The posture is supported by the impressive strength of his own musculature. Even through the plain white cotton of his shirt–for all Texans dress thus–the viewer has a sense of the rigidity of the lean muscles beneath. His feet, clad in cowboy boots, with little silver spurs jangling like wicked stars on his heels, rest, angled, on some unseen support. His knees are drawn up, and with the corded strength of his thighs, he supports his rifle. The barrel stands erect, and angled away from its master. One hand caresses the stern metal shaft. The other clutches a rag, sodden with viscous gun oil, rendered with such glistening detail that the acrid tang seems to sting one’s nostrils. A little pile of these besmirched implements lies discarded upon the little round table beside him. His face is drawn in singular, and perhaps blissful, focus on his task, as though the mundane act of cleaning has become an almost sacred ritual, as though he understands that life–his life–is dependent on the reverent polishing, on the steady, sweeping strokes of his calloused hands.

My pen quivers–I find myself spent. I can say no more, I have laid it all before you. I cannot afford the expense of a photograph in the pages of this provincial periodical–Heaven knows that if I could, I would not be selling this inspired piece–but I hope I have rendered the Texan as accurately as mere words can. The hawkish editor is glaring at me from beneath his visor. My time is finished. I disperse these humble words to the wings of the wind, in hopes that you, dear reader, or one of your close kin or brethren will see the majesty and glory of this stark man. Please send all inquiries to Little Mama Clare’s Boarding House, 3rd Dredger’s Row, West Salinas, California, within the next fortnight, as I shall soon find myself without lodgings or address.

¹ Something occurs to me now, which likely should have occurred to me before. If I never spoke to the man, how can I be certain that he is a Texan? Logically, I should have abundant doubts. But I am completely certain that he is a Texan– as certain as I am that fire is hot and that thirst is compelling.

² I certainly won’t. I have already forgotten the name of it, a fact which likely has no small connection to the alleged Madeira I consumed near the end of my stay. In fact, by the time I recovered from its effects, I found myself completely alone, lying on a stretch of wooden sidewalk, surrounded by my meagre possessions, swallowed up in a scene of desolation.

³ I know it would normally be the custom for him to pay me for a portrait, but I am compelled to go whither the spirit leads me.

⁴ Miserable! Miserable! Five pounds sterling and a live moth! And the latter had the indecency to abandon me forthwith!

⁵ As an artiste, I am seldom parted from my sketchbook. This unfortunate circumstance generally transpires when the sight of my êtudes awakens a jealous rage in some uncomprehending yokel, provoking him to trample my book and, often, defile my person with lowly spittle, and that frequently reeking of tobacco.

[blueflipflops]

More from my previous post about introducing Feanorions to Scrabble...

Edit: now with part 3! Part 4!

Maedhros INVENTED the quenyan version of "Y'all'dve'if'i'dve" and gave everyone within hearing range an instant aneurysm deep into their soul. Its a wide range aggro spell and everyone just has to deal with it.

He keeps managing get enough letters for it every game and also keep trying to sell it as a legit word. Everyone is LOSING THEIR MINDS.

Maedhros: Well, technically,—

Feanor: SERIES OF CONTRACTIONS IS NOT A WORD—

Nobody knows how serious Maedhros actually is about the claim but he's already dug this far. He's not gonna back down. He's not a Feanorion for nothing. Boy has a pick axe and a shovel and he's not afraid to use them.

Feanor is one step away from disowning his firstborn but is slowly convinced which almost starts a legitimate coup among the family.

Nerdanel notices Feanor being swayed by their sweet tongued eldest and is considering inventing divorce.

Curufin is torn between supporting his father's side but honestly has never felt more patricidal rage till that day. He ultimately decides to pin the blame on Maedhros and acted accordingly, as is deserved.

Celegorm had to be banned from having Huan with him in the game because he keeps sending him to eat other peoples letter tiles when theyre not looking and Maglor is THIS close to shoving a harp down his throat. The ass keeps targeting him for some reason. (He's not gonna risk doing it to Father or Maedhros. He might not be the smartest but he's not an idiot either)

Maglor: I put down bloodred.

Moryo: Thats two words

Maglor: Thats one word

Moryo: No it fucking isnt—

...

Celegorm: Blood red. *scoffs* Its fucking orange

Huan: *barks in agreement*

The ambarussa had been caught trading letter tile with each other when no one is looking and suddenly another rule is added to the list. The Rules has become a long list of general do's, don'ts and very specific situations that you would rather not question as to how it became a rule.

[Had to edit it so others can see it]