#PLEASE LEAVE A REQUEST PLEASE

[pr0fes10nal-l0ser]

I don't know what to draw, I don't have a lot of ideas

So I'm taking some drawing/sketch requests.

Just leave something in askbox ("feed me your ideas")

❌NSFW (nope nope nope nope nope NOOOPEE nope nope nope)

Some of things I can draw

OC's - murder drones - phighting - Dandy's world - Cookie run - Hylics - Mouthwashing - etc

Anything else just ask

[midnightbluebells03]

Request: The reader and ellie are friends, but the reader doesn't know if she likes girls or not, so ellie offers to let her experiment on her. Friends to lovers and mutual pining. 💓 a happy ending, preferably. Up to you whether or not to include smut!

FALLING INTO ME

CW - hair pulling, mentions of past experiences with men, oral (R receiving), thigh grinding

WC - about 2k - no outbreak AU

Leave me Ellie or Abby requests x

This was wrong right? Infront of you your childhood best friend Ellie sits crossed legged on her bed. The faded plaid sheets that have replaced dinosaurs from her youth clutched in your unforgiving grasp.

"We don't have to do anything" she says barely above a whisper. Like she's afraid to even suggest it. The air is tight, hot, like someone lit a fire and let the smoke invade the room. But there's Ellie. Her hand sitting on your thigh as her thumb swipes across bare skin, the floral sleep shorts you had opteded for letting her trace over it with no barrier. Her back pressed to the headboard like it's the only thing keeping her sitting upright. "I shouldn't have said anything I'm sorry". Her hand retreats with a slight tremble.

Just ten minutes ago you were sharing a bottle of some cheap wine Ellie had got from the corner store. Giggling and reminiscing on your intertwined lives, awkward teen phases that melted into adulthood when you let it slip.

You think you might like girls.

Of course you weren't sure, you'd never done anything with a girl, but all your experiences with boys just felt empty. Felt like a chore more than fun. And who better to tell than Ellie? She had been out for years, having had her fair share of girlfriends despite her slightly awkward attitude at times. When the word 'experiment' left your lips you saw a glint in her eyes.

It made her pause, wipe her mouth with the back of her hand and place the bottle onto the nightstand. Making space for it amongst the clutter. The way she looked at you made you tilt your head in confusion, until she opened her mouth.

"You could experiment with me"

"Ellie" you finally speak up, grasping her wrist gently to halt her movement. Fingers grazing over her tattoo and making her gaze snap from the floor to your eyes. God she did really have the prettiest eyes. You'd always thought so, oftentimes comparing the hues to the fresh grass during summer or the moss growing deep in your parents garden. "I want to"

"Yeah?" She looks like she doesn't believe you, eyebrows slightly knitted together. You swallow hard before nodding, Ellie beckons you over with her hand. "Cm'here" when you inch closer you can't help but watch how Ellie flicks her tounge over her slightly chapped lips. Feeling her slowly move to hold onto your waist as you start to straddle her lap while your hands rest on her shoulders. "If you want to stop just tell me okay?"

"Promise" you feel your heart speed up as Ellie leans in. Far enough where you could kiss her but she let's you make the choice. So you do. Pressing your lips to hers and letting your eyes flutter shut.

And it makes it feel like a firework has went off in your chest.

The two of you mesh together like puzzle pieces, soft and slow while your mind races with a million thoughts. You can feel how Ellie is holding back, her hands not moving from their position on your waist. But after a few minutes when you rock your hips forward slightly you could almost swear she groans into your mouth. So you do it again, making her pull back from the kiss.

"Can I touch you?" She was always like this, always asking a million question. Things like if you wanted the last slice of pizza or what movie to put on. She always let you take the lead, like she was afraid of making the wrong choice. You nod but she just chuckles softly. "Words darling" it makes you want to clentch your thighs together, the way her her accent slips into that semi texan drawl that she picked up from Joel.

Your hands come over the top of hers, guding her up and under your tank top "Please Els"

Her fingers are calloused from the years of guitar, running up your skin slowly. Too slowly. But you don't want to complain, not with the way she's looking at you. Eyes following her hands as she pushes the fabric further up your body. You decide to speed it up a little. Taking the fabric in your own hands and pulling it over your head, throwing it somewhere in the room.

Normally this is when you'd start to feel weird. Your body would almost stiffen and your brain would be flooded with thoughts of leaving. A deep guilt or twisted knot in your throat.

But not now.

Not with Ellie.

Instead your stomach tightens at how her eyes take you in. Slowly scanning over you like you're the most breath taking thing she's even seen. Her hands pause just before reaching your breasts, her pupils so blown her green eyes as almost black as she looks up at you.

"Take it off?" She whispers. Her finger coming up to ghost over the band of your bra. You nod, reaching around with shaky hands to undo the clasp. Letting the bra fall onto Ellie's lap in the sliver of space between you two. She picks it up and moves it to the side, carefully. Like it was priceless even though it was the cheapest one you owned. Some target bralette that was on sale. It was nothing like how your previous partners treated your belongings. With them it was always thrown across the room like trash, nothing more than an obstacle to their pleasure. "You're so- you're just so- fuck" Ellie mumbles before chewing on her bottom lip. Her cheeks flushed the sweetest shade of pink as her hands slowly creep up your sides, inching towards your breasts.

"Ellie" you whine softly, the ache between your legs become worse with every passing second. Like you were dying for her to just touch you. It makes her lock eyes with you, as her thumb runs over your nipple. Making them stiffen and forcing a soft gasp from your lips.

"Just tell me what you want baby" her lips trail down your neck slowly as she mumbles into your skin. "I'll give you everything just tell me"

Your voice cracks slightly as you finally manage to say "Touch me"

You can feel as a slight smirk creeps onto her lips. Her fingers continuing to toy with your nipples. Just enough to make you needy but not enough to scratch the itch in your core. "I am". The faux innocence in her voice makes you roll your eyes.

"Ellie" you huff, feeling your face heat up at what you're about to say. "Fuck me please? Wanna know what it's like" with that Ellie leans into your neck fully while her hands keep on your chest, starting to place kisses down your skin as your head tips back. You can feel her smile as she moves further down, nipping slightly at your pulse point. Your hand moves to her hair, gripping softly while your hips uncontrollably start to rock against her. Desperate for any friction. Ellie pulls back but before you can complain she taps your hip.

"Straddle my thigh" you tilt you head confused but she gives you a smile before brushing a lose strand of hair out your face. "Trust me". So you do what she's asks, shifting until your legs are either side of her thigh. Ellie brings her hands to your hips, starting to steadily rock you against her. You gasp then moan softly. Almost teary eyed at finally getting some real touch from her. Even if it's clad by several layers of fabric. "See? How's that feel?"

"Good" you say with a shaky voice as Ellie sets your pace. Guiding you with a tight grip. "Feels good Ellie fuck"

"Mm" she coos softly, kissing over your collarbones before nipping at the sensitive spot where your neck and shoulder meet. "Just gotta get you ready yeah? Get you all wet for when I fuck you so good you'll forget about all the guys that couldn't make you cum". Her lips move down to your hardened nipples, wrapping around one of them as you throw you head back in pleasure.

Now this Ellie?

This was a whole new person. Like her awkward shell broke away and left someone who you were going to be thinking about forever. Suddenly all the girls she managed to get with make sense, because she's hardly touched you and you're soaking through your panties.

"Fuck" your hands tighten on her shoulders as her tounge rolls over your nipple. You still your hips, almost afraid that she'll make you cum just from this and that makes her pause. Detaching from you with a confused look.

Her eyebrows knit together and her hand comes up to cup your hot cheek. "You okay?"

Maybe it's the wine, maybe it's the years of subtle crushing. Or maybe it's the way your almost certain there's a wet patch on Ellie's pyjama bottoms but you can't help stumbling out. "Fuck me Ellie"

Her hand snakes back down to your hip and she flips you over, making you squeal as your back hits the sheets. A slight giggle leaving your lips before Ellie crashes hers with yours. Her hand moving down your stomach to the band of your shorts. She pulls back but you don't give her a a chance to ask, already pulling off your shorts and panties. Kicking them onto the floor as Ellie moves down to between your legs.

"What you doing?" You ask with a slight tilt to your head, propping yourself onto your elbows to look down at her.

"What's it looks like?" She asks with a slight chuckle, starting to pepper kisses up your inner thighs but pausing before reaching your dripping pussy. "What? No one eat you out before?". Her smile fades when you shake your head, eyes darting between you and the sight before her. "That's just criminal dude"

Before you can comment on the fact she's just called you dude her tounge licks a fat strip through your folds. Making you gasp and grip the sheets. Skilled tounge circling your clit while her eyes stay focused on you. With a certain flick your hand flies to grab onto her auburn locks, tugging from the root as Ellie moans into you.eyes fluttering shut as your hips start to rutt against her face, changing a high you've never even come close to with others.

"Ellie" you whine as your back arches, soft pants filling the room as her hands creep up your hips and pull you closer. Making you moan so loudly you're almost certain anyone walking by outside would've heard. "Fuck, fuck, Els- gonna-!". Ellie doesn't falter, doesn't give you a second to breath as your orgasm rushes through you. Hips desperately trying to escape Ellie's grasp as she works you through it, no sign of caring about the way your thighs clamp around her head unforgivingly.

By the time she pulls away to lick your slick from her lips your brain is fuzzy. Staring up at the same ceiling you helped pull glow in the dark stickers off as Ellie taps your shin.

"You...you okay?" Her voice sounds so small. You finally manage to hold yourself up to look at her. Lips swollen from your teeth sinking into them and face hot to the touch.

"That...Els that-" your words get caught in your throat so instead you reach for the collar of her shirt. Pulling her up until your lips crash together, the taste of yourself filling your mouth as Ellie places a hand on the back of your neck.

When you two part she gives you a cocky smile. Gliding her fingers across your cheek before moving the loose babyhairs out of your face. "I'm gonna take that as a five star review then?"

You giggle before fake thinking. "Hmm I don't know Els think I need to try it again, yknow get all the data".

She nods with pursed lips, a serious expression taking over her face. "For science".

"For science".

[cordiallyfuturedwight]

jin; i'll be there live clip ✰

[stanpinesdykewife]

How do you feel about breeding kink ? Kinda a request for Stan/reader haha

HELLO thanks for sending this in! so i've never been a big breeder (breeding kink enjoyer) but you and several others are really into it so i finally gave it a shot!!! enjoy! and check out my friend's breeding kink fic at the bottom if you're into this :) under the cut:

knock knock stan/reader (fem!reader) (unless you're me and can ignore the gender implications of "mommy") pre/during/post-canon/unspecified smut, 1954 words (bonus: fic rec at the bottom)

It starts out like the normal, mostly-vanilla sex you usually have with Stan.

You two go out, get tipsy, come home, and make it through approximately half an episode of your joint show before slipping into a sloppy makeout. It's not exactly routine, but it's expected, and it's a hit for a reason. Sex with Stan is good, full stop. Which is why you’re always surprised when something new comes along that makes it even better.

“Hngh—Fuck,” you choke out, your voice catching behind your teeth as Stan sinks into you. You're on your back, staring with bleary eyes at the sight of Stan's flushed face above you. He's sitting on his heels with your ankles on his shoulders, his hands holding firmly at your plush hips as he grinds into you. “Fuck. God, please.”

“Told you you'd have to beg for it this time, didn't I?” Stan chuckles, stroking over your soft skin with his thumbs. He sounds gentle, but he's grinding into you hard, enough that each forward roll of his hips has your whole body rocking with it. He'd been fucking you so hard earlier, so good, but he does this thing sometimes—he stops altogether to get you talking. He loves when you talk to him. “Go on, then, sweetheart. You want it, right?”

“Y-Yeah,” you say, stuttering at another press of his dick into you. You gasp when he pulls back, drawing out only halfway before grinding in again. Your voice is wobbly when you say, “Yes, yeah. I want it, please fuck me, oh, fuck—I wanna come. Wanna make you come in me.”

You know, even through the haze in your mind and the growing blush on Stan's face, that that's a normal thing for you to say. It never gets old, and it's never untrue. Asking Stan to come in you always feels really fucking good. You're having a really good night.

“I know, baby. You want me to fill you up,” Stan says, full-on smiling down at you. His eyes are warm and a little unfocused as he draws out again, then pushes in, keeping that same romantic rhythm he's had since slowing down. His voice is low, almost drowsy, when he adds, “You want it to stay there, too? Want it to take?”

“Wh—Huh?” you ask, your mind a little preoccupied to register all the words coming out of his mouth. You're a little too busy staring at him, at his dark eyes, his crooked grin, then lower, to the hair on his chest leading down to his belly. Stan huffs out a good-natured laugh at your obvious spacing out.

“You always ask me to come inside.” When your gaze finally wanders back up to his, he's already staring at you. Stan chuckles again and adjusts his grip on your body, unintentionally hiking your hips up a little. He clarifies, “It's almost like you want me to knock you up.”

Your jaw drops open at that. A new wave of heat curls in your abdomen, making your fingers twitch, and your legs suddenly tense. Stan was half-joking, you know he was, but it's too late to pitch him a laugh and play into it. His brows raise, and you can practically see the gears turn in his head when you blink at him in mild shock.

Then the light bulb clicks on, and Stan's expression brightens in the way it always does when he learns something new about your body. Despite yourself, you smile, too, a flustered giggle bouncing from your throat when you realize he's about to pounce.

“W-Wait, I didn't—” You have no clue what excuse you were going to give to clear your name of a kink you didn't even know you had, but Stan interrupts you so you don't have to find out. You squeal when he suddenly grabs you by the thighs and adjusts your body, manhandling you into a new position. “Stan—!”

“You like that, huh,” he snickers, not unkind, as he shuffles himself up onto his knees without pulling out. One of your legs almost falls off his shoulders, but Stan quickly corrects it before snatching a pillow from your left and shoving it under your hips. He leans forward slightly, asking you again, “You want me to knock you up?”

Before you can answer, Stan gives you the first proper thrust he's given you in a while. Your back arches as you moan, your hips automatically rocking up into his as he starts a steady pace. Your hands grip the sheets, and you try to stave off the mild embarrassment in your chest. You try to welcome the excitement instead, growing warm in your stomach, making you tremble.

“That's right, honey. Feels good, don't it? Gonna put a baby in you.” The humor in Stan's voice fades slowly, overtaken by his little grunts as he fucks into you. You moan at one particular angle, Stan's dick pressing perfectly up against that spot in your pussy that makes your legs shake, and Stan chases it. He leans forward, over you, making your voice pitch higher and higher. He groans, “Fuck, so wet. You're all nice and warm for me, sugar. Perfect for my spunk.”

“Ugh, don't—ah—call it that,” you huff out, voice cracking in the middle as Stan picks up speed.

“Whaddya want me to call it?” he laughs. “My come? My kids?”

“Fuck,” you moan, like the breath's been punched out of you. Stan's hips stutter, and something in the air shifts. He groans, leans forward more, and soon your body is bent deeply at the waist with your legs hooked over his shoulders, your knees close to your chest. You don't know what this position is called. A breeding press? A mating press? The specifics are lost on you as you open your eyes, blinking up at Stan's handsome, flushed face.

He’s breathing deeply above you, his hot breath mingling with yours as he plants his hands on either side of you. Stan’s been teasing you all this time, but all of a sudden it doesn't feel so lighthearted anymore. Stan pauses when you meet his eyes. Shifts his weight on his knees.

“C-Can…” You swallow around the words. You're fucking salivating. You look at Stan shyly, through your lashes, and find the courage to ask, “Can you please put your kids in me?”

“Holy Moses,” Stan says, and then he's kissing you, all sloppy and heated and so fucking turned-on. You moan into his mouth when he starts pumping into you again, fucking his hips down into yours, and this angle is so fucking good you can't believe you've never tried it with him before, holy fuck. Stan is so deep inside you, pistoning his hips so hard he's fucking you right into the mattress with each thrust.

“Ah, ah, fuck, yes—” you gasp, breaking the kiss. Stan groans against your open mouth before pulling away, his eyes screwed shut as he presses his forehead to yours.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he grunts, shifting so his forearms are caging your head, holding up his weight. “Gonna fucking fill you up, gonna make you have my fucking kids—Fuck, I'm already close.”

“Yes, yes, please,” you whine, voice strained as you reach up to grab hold of something, anything, to keep you grounded. You feel like you're floating, so warm and dizzy at the thought of Stan filling you to the brim, and your hands somehow find their way up into Stan's hair. He groans again when you tug, and gives you a particularly rough thrust that makes you gasp. “Ah, shit—! Yes, I want it, want you to come in me, fill me up—”

“Yeah, just take my fucking load, baby, just take it,” he breathes, somehow much more intelligible than you are even as his hips start fucking into you unevenly, losing their rhythm. But Stan's thrusts get harder, his dick reaching deeper into your ready cunt, so deep you swear you can feel his precome leaking into your cervix, or maybe the thought of it is just so good that you're making shit up. But you snap back to reality at Stan mutters, his voice gruff, “Gonna come so deep in you, sweetheart—Hah, fuck, that's—Gonna make you a fuckin' mommy.”

You're coming, an intense orgasm rolling through you and forcing one loud, drawn-out moan from deep in your throat as Stan fucks into you with a few more frantic thrusts. You're gasping, cursing when you can spare the breath, and then you're whining high in your throat as Stan presses as deep as he can fucking go. His voice catches for a moment. Then he groans, long and loud, right into your face as he comes deep in you. It's so hot, literally, you can feel the heat blooming in your fucking cunt, can feel the way his thick dick twitches with its release.

“Fuck—Fuck,” Stan swears, shifting again so he can slide one hand to your hip. He hikes it up and shuffles closer on his knees, sighing once his lungs have the capacity. You're still catching your breath, still dizzy with warmth and post-orgasmic bliss as you think of that pocket of come being plugged inside you by Stan's softening dick. Stan breathes deeply in, then out. He’s still riding the tail end of his orgasm when he murmurs, “You okay?”

“Mm. Yeah,” you manage, carefully unwinding your fingers from his hair. When Stan can lift his head to look at you, his face is red with exertion. There's some drool slipping out the corner of his mouth, and you try a smile. “You?”

“Yeah,” he says, but he sounds distracted. He studies your features, reading your expression, and whatever you managed of a half-smile drops.

“What?” you ask. But then Stan nudges his hips back, just an inch, and slowly presses into you again. Your breath hitches in your throat, your hands flying to his shoulders to grip him there. “What are you—Ah, ah, fuck.”

You feel exactly what he does. Stan's come is slick in you, it always is, but the new connotations add so much to the warm, wet pool within your body. Stan grinds into you, getting your thighs and his abdomen slick with your come, then pulls out again. When he pushes back in, you both moan at how fucking easy it is. There's no resistance. His come is sticking the way, making it easier for him to fuck you.

Stan is still breathing deep, but another smile plays on his lips. He’s close enough that he only has to tilt his head slightly to kiss you, but it's chaste nonetheless. His grin is bright and affectionate. But it isn't quite innocent.

“You wanna try for another?” he chuckles, his hand smoothing over your skin to dip between your bodies, to press gently, reverently against your stomach. You jolt at the touch, but eventually your hips start rocking into him. Stan doesn't move. You're intoxicated by the thought of him keeping you like this, pinned beneath him, full of his come and plugged by his dick as he brings you to the edge with his fingers.

“Ah, shit—Fuck. Yeah,” you say, the corners of your mouth rising up to match Stan's grin. You play along easier this time. “Yeah. Please. As many times as it takes, right?”

“Gotta knock you up somehow,” Stan says, keeping eye contact with you, his voice oozing with affection. You chuckle at him. What a softie. Then his fingers press a little harder on your stomach, then dip lower, lower, to really touch you, and your mouth drops into a moan instead. “Gonna be such a good mommy.”

You're having a great night.

(inspo from Family Planning by burberryali, which dropped super recently and helped a lot while i learned to write this!!! if you like breeding and fluff and stan in general... which i know you do... this fic is for you! show it some love!!)

[castiels-slinky]

M*A*S*H Headcanons :3

Klinger gets invited to girls' nights.

Hawkeye is the #1 guy to go to if some general is being weird. He can and will pretend to be your bf! (He ends up just flirting with the creep.)

Both Hawkeye and Klinger are Jewish.

Father Mulcahy is unaware of just how built he is. He goes, "Oh, this isn't heavy at all! :)" while carrying a giant stack of files that's most definitely heavy.

Radar hardly responds to his actual name.

Hawkeye is hypersexual, but doesn't talk about it to most people; he just lets them think he's a pervert to avoid opening up about it.

Klinger has made an outfit for each of his friends!

Father Mulcahy wanted to box professionally before he decided that he wanted to be a priest.

They make s'mores together. :)

They also have done little cabaret nights. Hawkeye gets SO INTO IT (he's a theatre kid).

[gur0beetl3]

Leaving my abusive household.

Hello, I try to not get too serious or talk about my private life too often, but today I've finally started up a gofundme to. Well. Get out of the abusive situation I live in. It's something I've thought long and hard about, and while I hate having to resort to this, all other options have failed me, and I'm desperate to leave so I can start actually living. Please, any and all help sharing this around will mean the world to me, as this situation has gotten dire, and I honestly cannot live in this house with my mother for another year.

Thank you for taking the time to read this post, I appreciate it, and I hope you have a wonderful day.

[daily-dose-of-bucket]

Day 38: greenblngs >-<

[bonzoobel]

i am not immune to mb+tellus post fugitive telemetry shenanigans and NEITHER ARE YOU!!!

[papa-evershed]

Liam Connor, Coronation Street THE RESCUE 🚑🏥 requested by: anonymous

[driftingballoons]

Maybe that’s a little too far back

[skitskatdacat63]

"Arrogant, ruthless, and by all reports (including his own) utterly charming."

(I don't know why I drew this but please take Revolutionary War British officer George, I think it suits him, okay!!!)

+ George Russell the type of guy to t-pose in front of rebels

+ the usual

Okay first of all, process, as always:

I drew this in one day hahaha....Actually really fun! I haven't finished anything in almost a month, and haven't painted for even longer, so I'm kinda dying at the fact that 18th century George Russell got me motivated 😭 Sometimes when painting, I realize I have free will and can actually just start painting over the lineart, and that's the best moment of every drawing process 🙏

Also I'm very proud of his face!!! I've said before, but art progression is such a weird thing. You'll keep repeating to your self "I'm no good at [insert art thing.]" And then randomly realized you can in fact do it. That's me with drawing real people's faces 😭 I'm just so shocked I got his face pretty good in one try!!!

Okay about the pose and quote. God its so fun to misappropriate quotes for my own evil deeds. Both of these are from this one officer from the Revolution: Banastre Tarleton. Idk, I randomly saw his painting in a history video, and it's stuck in my mind ever since. And then yesterday, bcs I spent a lot of time looking at George, I'm like "hey you know what he kinda reminds me of-" and thus we have this.

I just found that quote about him from some historian to be funny, so I put it as a caption, as I would with Napoleon. This won't be an AU by any means but. I think if George was in the Revolution, he'd be the most stereotypical, evil British villain in American media type guy ever. And Tarleton is kinda that guy tbh, to the point where him and others like Arnold Benedict are the poster boys of evil Revolution guys. He even has a mocking nickname! "Bloody Tarleton/Ban", very "Osama bin Russell," no? 😭

Some notable moments from Tarleton's campaign that I think fit George: Apparently killed a bunch of American soldiers after they surrendered, making sure everyone was dead(😭😭), threatened to burn an American general's house down to make him surrender and then took him hostage, went toe to toe with George Washington himself and Washington even taunted him and Tarleton got a shot in, has a helmet named after him(very slayful.)

[taintedcigs]

GETAWAY CAR READERS. ALL FIVE OF YOU. YOU HAVE PERSEVERED. AND I AM COMING BACK. I AM STRONG. I WILL DELIVER WITH THIS CHAPTER. and then WE'RE ALMOST DONE W THIS SERIES >>>:(((

BUT I HAVE TO SAY.

WE STILL HAVE SOME PAIN TO ENDURE. A LOT OF ANGST.

MISCOMMUNICATION.

PLEASE DONT KILL ME.

[silentreigns]

If Williams do replace Logan they better give him a proper send off. Nothing like what AlphaTauri did with Nyck de Vries

[rochellehassan]

The Spell for Unraveling (book 3 of The Buried and the Bound trilogy) has a cover! behold!

i think this is my favorite one yet! i love the stained glass background so much <3 the artist is helen mask, who's done an amazing job on all three covers for this trilogy.

[backjustforberena]

EVE BEST as DR. ELEANOR O'HARA in Nurse Jackie: Season 3

[serpentface]

HOSPITALITY AND GIFT ECONOMY IN THE HIGHLANDS: A POST.

Rites of hospitality are of key importance and taken very seriously in this cultural context, especially given the frequency at which individuals will be traveling (as herders, or along intra-Highlands trade routes). These rites exist as the concept of 'Shiab's peace', a divinely mandated contract of hospitality under the watch of Shiab, goddess of the hearth and of travelers. This is invoked with a standardized verbal exchange with a member of the household- the prospective guest will greet with “I would ask Shiab’s peace of you”, the host, if accepting, will respond with “You will have Shiab’s peace here.” While not explicitly an oath, it is understood as such and ascribed the same profound significance (both social and spiritual consequences for violation).

A potential host can refuse (though usually doesn't, hosting is an honor and can be a power play), but the mere request for Shiab's peace imbues temporary spiritual protection on the asker- one’s most loathed enemy must at least be allowed to leave unharmed, even if denied guest rite. (This isn’t a get out of jail free card, a request for Shiab’s peace is a request for hospitality, not mercy, the goddess will not be protecting you if you attempt to use it in the midst of combat or etc).

Once mutually invoked, the expectations of Shiab’s peace are as follows:

The host should provide for the guest’s basic needs generously within their means, and allow them to stay for a night and provide them a place to sleep.

The guest and host much each provide their names and titles, though the guest is under no obligation to explain the reasons for their presence and cannot be asked.

The guest must accept all food offered (and gifts, though this is not specific to Shiab's peace and rather part of a wider practice in the gift-economy).

The guest must ask for nothing, and take nothing that is not offered.

The guest is under full protection of the host, and vice versa. Theft, assault, or murder committed under Shiab's peace is a grave broken oath and one should expect very severe consequences (both supernatural and mundane, should others find out).

The guest (unless offered continued hospitality) must see themselves out after sunrise the following morning. They cannot be made to leave early.

If a guest is offered continued hospitality, they should offer to participate in any needed chores (the host can accept or decline at their discretion).

The protection of Shiab's peace continues until the following sunrise after the guest leaves (ie a host cannot pursue their leaving guest to steal from them)

Shiab's peace is universal and transcends conflicts, and once invoked cannot be violated under any circumstances. Members of a rival clan or of a tribe yours is at war with, a foreigner you're suspicious of, etc, are all fully under protection (and under their full expectations as a guest).

A guest that violates their expectations can be made to leave, as they have broken the oath and are no longer protected. (in practice, many hosts will let MINOR violations slide unless the guest is like, really annoying or godawful)

The host, in practice, will usually be the wife of the household (if present), as the wife is considered the owner of a family’s home, land, and property, and has final say on how resources are used and given. The host is expected to provide the guest food and drink and a place to stay for one night, and supply any other obvious basic needs (ie: if the guest’s clothing is worn or wet, they should be given fresh clothes). These gifts should be generous within one’s means, and in practice will usually be a square meal, mead/wine/murre, multiple rounds of tea, and a breakfast the following morning. A host that does not provide expected basic needs within their means is in violation of Shiab’s peace and has broken their oath, and should expect consequences.

A guest is not literally oathbound to practice ideal social etiquette, but it's a cultural expectation (ie, the guest should finish all their food and save some bread for last to scoop up anything left in the bowl, not a hard requirement but good manners). They are fully expected to accept any and all gifts offered. A guest should neither take nor ask for anything not freely given (all basic needs should have been met by the host to begin with). It IS acceptable for a guest to imply further needs in conversation, so long as they do not directly request them: ie mentioning in conversation that their leg is hurt and they can only hope their travels do not make it worse, as it would take days of rest for it to heal (“I need to stay multiple nights, can we work that out?”), or mentioning that their pack khait has gone lame and cannot carry their supplies, they fear they will have to leave both animal and supplies behind (“Will you lend me a pack ox/khait?”). These roundabout requests are still at least expected to be Truthful in nature (and all of this is happening under the watch of a deity, there may be consequences for lying).

Hosts may give extra gifts at their discretion- these can either be charitable, or indebting. A charitable gift will be given with further verbal declaration of Shiab’s peace, which establishes it as an act of goodwill and that the guest is not in the host’s debt. An indebting gift will be given with no declaration of Shiab's peace. The guest is obligated to accept either.

Indebting gifts are a part of the wider political and economic structure of the Highlands, a separate (though linked) practice to guest hospitality. The vast majority of the economy relies on trade of goods, with an additional dimension of this gift economy. Being able to give gifts is a display of wealth and power, establishing one’s family or clan above another in a social hierarchy. The most powerful are able to give the most extravagant gifts, and will have many other clans/families considered perpetually in their debt if the gift cannot be met with one of equal or greater value. This debt is immaterial- it is not actually Expected to be paid (it’s better for the gift-giver if it ISN'T), rather it establishes/reinforces one's place in a power structure and regulates the conduct of the gift receiver (it can be evoked to call in favors or settle disputes). A debt held by a single person translates to their immediate family, while a debt held by a clan matriarch/patriarch translates to their entire clan.

Cattle raiding is both a practical means of resource acquisition and a part of this wider political schema, and often figures into the gift structure. Stealing cattle and then giving them back as a gift is a power play, it declares ‘our men are better than yours (they’ve stolen the cattle successfully) and we are wealthier than you (we don’t even need them)’, while also settling the score and dissuading retaliation. Stealing cattle and then giving MORE (or different, higher quality) cattle as a gift is a massive power play, declaring much the same things to a greater extent, dissuading retaliation, AND putting the theft victim/gift recipient into the debt of the thieves.

Power structures within tribes are passively enforced by this gift giving structure- the ruling clan of each (which in practice usually controls the best agricultural land and largest herds, and is most involved in trade) will provide gifts to all clans subservient to them (and particularly generous gifts to potential rivals), keeping them indebted and lower in the social structure. Ruling clans who lose the ability to afford to give gifts, or find themselves indebted, will often be usurped (not strictly as a result of their debt, rather that losing ability to stay on top of the gift system generally occurs in conjunction with a diminished material power/wealth).

These combined practices result in very complex, often aggravating political power structures, but reduce the frequency of open conflict between clans within a tribe (which are frequently at odds), providing other avenues for power/material acquisition and for the settling of scores. Most open conflicts occur between clans within separate tribes or entire tribes (less likely to have secure power structures enforced by gift/trade), though practices of raiding and combat-sport provide some levels of tension release via less-violent score settling.

Other dimensions of the gift economy are not directly indebting (in not establishing a power structure), and considered paid via mutual partnership. Alliances between clans of different tribes are usually established in continued gift-giving (declared explicitly as gifts of allegiance), with the implied payment being mutual material support (supplying warriors, sharing grazing land, open trade, etc), which is usually reinforced with binding oaths. Marriages also involve gifts. A bride price is fairly standard (which is a straightforward payment for property and assets the wife's mother will be passing into her son-in-law's care), and a husband who cannot supply one is considered in his mother in law's debt (and may not gain full integration into the family until this is paid). But as supplement to the bride price, members of each family will freely give gifts with no expectation of the value of their gifts being matched (declared as such by being specifically described as a gift of marriage), as a means of further allying both families and a show of goodwill.