#Silk Kites

[cardinalphlox]

Speed darte for @bogcreacher, the sillies

My OC Fatetaker, she's a talker and lacks the ability to feel awkward /hj Bonus:

Fatetaker more like Mapmaker hahaha she really likes maps

[snorkled-orca]

Marble and @bogcreacher's Red Kite's date night!

aka

Local dragon forgets to study art of romance, asks worst question and leaves date dumbfounded

Marble should learn how to converse first sadly, but they could be good friends... maybe 😬

Version without text

[nejishadow]

Pierce tries to convince Silk that Extreme Gear is really cool, but he is not convinced.

She let him borrow some gloves and goggles but he just might sneak out when she isn't looking

Base by GaboRabo

Mostly did this to force myself to draw something because there was a 26 day gap between the Haze art and this. I drew nothing in the inbetween.

(Since Silk was designed before Clutch came out to give us a standard for opossums, I updated his ears and muzzle a smidge here to fit in line with that better. If anyone questions why his ears aren't perfectly in line, he's not 100% opossum, begone with ye)

[aerialarchive]

Kite split attempts

silks

September 2024

[ice-creamforbreakfast]

🪩Download🪩(Patreon - Free from 29th January 2024)

January is a bit rubbish (my birthday aside) as we're just following the glitter explosion that is Christmas and Hogmonay, so I thought it would be fun to do a 70s Glam inspired set to brighten things up a little. It was a very popular runner-up on a recent poll and I did promise, so here it is!!

Descriptions below:

Fire & Rain Gown - A low-cut, glittered-out gown that's perfect for those glitzy parties or if you're Cher going to Tescos.

Fire & Rain Dress - A kite-hem version of the Fire & Rain gown. Perfect for those glitzy parties or if you're Cher going to Tescos...in warmer weather.

Jaclyn Jumpsuit - A halter-jumpsuit with a rope belt and two-tone options. A conversation starter at any party...unless someone else is wearing it in a nicer colour.

Jackie Romper - A sister romper to the Jaclyn jumpsuit. See above description, but in warmer weather.

Manero Shirt - Show them your moves in this silk shirt! This shirt is sewn up the front, because sims found it simply irresistable and several buttons were ripped and went flying on our prototypes.

Night Fever Flares - Bust a move in these flares! Sure, they're so tight you might bust something else, but you never know until you try!

Show the ladies, gents and nonbinary hotties that you've got money to spend with this big, gold chain!

What does the 70s glamazon and 90s sitcom mom have in common? A fabulous bobbed blowout just like this. Show off your staple style from discos through to diapers!

Dazzle your friends and temporarily stun your enemies in this incredibly polished earring and necklace set inlaid with your favourite precious stones.

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

Dude I see so much of average drugged whumpee just being spacey and out of it, but I raise you, a drugged whumpee that’s happy. A whumpee dosed with a euphoria drug that has them wonderfully higher than a kite, laughing, looking at streaming shimmering hallucinations around them, blissfully relaxed and unaware that whumper is behind it

bonus points if whumper flees from wherever they’ve been hiding, leaving a happily drugged whumpee behind as a “present” for caretaker

(content warning: nudity, the vague references to non-con touching)

YES. YES. YES.

I ADORE happy little drugged out whumpees! And Caretaker finding them like that? Especially when it’s such a far cry from whumpee’s typical personality? I could explode.

It’s all about the dichotomy between their behavior and their situation. Anything would be more fitting. Helpless terror as they shiver in the corner, hiding from horrors only they can see. Numb listlessness because their body is overburdened by exhaustion. Those all make sense, they fit.

But joy? Near manic euphoria, a smile stretching across their pale and dirty face? They’re not screaming or crying, but laughing, a drunken giggle that bounces against cold walls.

I think there’s an extra layer of helplessness there that is absolutely amazing. They’ve been stripped of their freedom, their dignity, and even their ability to properly respond to their situation. They’re not even given the right to anger or sadness. They’re trapped in an unthinking joy, and they can’t even begin to understand why it’s a bad thing.

And left as a prize? Absolutely. I love the idea of Caretaker finding them like that, at their most vulnerable. Presented like a trophy. Wrapped in thin silk and rope too weak to bind them under normal conditions, bruises peppering otherwise bare skin.

It’s humiliating, it’s painful, but Whumpee has no awareness of that. They simply feel good, relaxed and peaceful in a way they haven’t been for months. They’re barely aware of the exposed state they’re in, too out of it to even feel shame. They can’t remember the mocking words Whumper spoke as they pushed the needle into Whumpee’s skin, can’t remember the sicking mix of fury and terror they felt in those first few minutes, laying there with nothing to do but wait for the drug to kick in. All that’s left in their head is pink, sparkling joy.

Finally, Caretaker arrives. Whumpee doesn’t register the look of horror on Caretaker’s face. They barely respond as they’re searched for injuries, barely respond to Caretaker’s presence at all. When they do respond, it’s with slow, slurred speech, the words incoherent and muddled with uncontrollable laughter.

It sends a chill up Caretaker’s spine. It’s a state they’d neve expect to find Whumpee in, a state Whumpee would never allow themselves to be found in. It's frightening, seeing Whumpee act so unlike themselves.

Knowing that Whumper was around them in this state makes Caretaker sick. Knowing that Whumper had them at their most vulnerable, was free to mock them, touch them, do anything, and Caretaker wasn’t there to stop it, makes them feel sick.

It makes them sick to think this is all part of some game to Whumper. It makes them sick to think that they’re playing along, that saving Whumpee is somehow part of Whumper’s plan. But there’s nothing else Caretaker can do.

Caretaker removes their coat and drapes it over Whumpee’s body. Carefully, they pick Whumpee up, not trusting them to walk in their state. Whumpee’s body is warm despite being left on the cold floor, skin flush as the drug works through their system. Whumpee’s shivering, though they don’t seem to notice that either.

Whumpee presses themselves into Caretaker’s chest, humming contently. Caretaker holds them close with trembling fingers, and swears to never let them go again.

[korasonata]

JUST finished Cleo’s first stream for Pirates SMP, and the amount of times I just fully burst out laughing like—

—

Sausage: *kisses Scott on sight*

Owen: *throwing himself in front of Sausage * Hi. 😏

Scott: I like a forward man 😉

—

Sausage: Where do you get these? This silk?

Scott: Thank you, thank you…

Sausage: Can I touch it?

Scott: Yeah of course. You can touch whatever you want 😏

—

Oli: I’ll give you 5 gold to tell me what’s beneath that patch.

Cleo: Look my eye got stolen by a monkey, ok?!

Oli: Oh! Was it a my cock?

Sausage: WHAT?!

Oli: A ma’ cock!

Sausage: THAT’S NOT HOW YOU PRONOUNCE IT!

—

*Owenge_Juice becomes a Heron*

Scott/Cleo/El: (chanting) ONE OF US! ONE OF US! ONE OF US!

Owen: …are you allowed to change your mind afterwards?

Scott: NO! :D

—

El: So you’re like a lone wolf?

Owen: Uh…kind of. More like a lone sea dog.

El: Come on, give us a bark.

Scott: Yeah!

Owen: Uh…I only bark in certain situations…

Scott: Oh. What situations?

Owen: …uh, oKAY! WHICH WAY—

—

El: This is my bed over here. There is one right next to it, you can take that.

Owen: Perfect! Thanks!

El: I do make really loud noises in my sleep.

Scott + Owen: Oh???

El: Yeah.

Cleo: Yeah, but not the noises you would expect either.

—

Cleo (about Olive): They said they’d got invitations from Herons and Nightingales I think?

Scott: Yeah it was Heron, Nightingales, and Kestrals, they didn’t get Kites.

Cleo: Who DOES get Kites unless you’re a psychopath.

Scott: Owen got all 4.

Owen: Yeah…umm…

Cleo: Oh…

—

*Cleo gets everyone drunk*

Cleo: Ah, you’re all lightweights!

El: *flirting with Water* Oh, you look so lovely in this light right now!

Water: Oh El!

El: Lovely!

Scott: I feel I can take more damage. I’m gonna go jump off the cliff guys!!

—

Cleo: Maybe one day you can buy a real hat!

El: Well I will, but you know, I just think— I don’t see anybody else having made one when they’ve not got one. Gonna get a wet head.

Cleo: *absolutely lost it*

—

Cleo: Gotta get the alcohol. Otherwise I’m gonna kill someone. It’s fine.

—

Oil (Distant): ARE WE SURE THIS IS THE WAY?!

Cleo: Scott’s sure it’s the way!

Oli (distant distress): I— DON’T LIKE IT!

Aimsey: Honestly I’m hoping for the best! I hope he does!

Oli: Ya Damn Herons!

Cleo: You don’t have to follow us, ok?!

Oli: Well unfortunately my Kestrals already ran off

Aimsey: This is what I mean! I— I’m hoping you get this! I’ve dunked this too many times!

Cleo: It’s very Kestral of you to just wait until the end and have other people to do it for you!

Aimsey: I’m a Kite! I’m a Kite! Thank you!

Cleo: Well, yeah you know what? It’s very typical for Kites to do it too.

Aimsey: Oh well is it now? Is it then?!

Cleo: Oh yeah yeah! It is it is!

Aimsey: Do you wanna duel?! You wanna duel when we get back, Cleo?! You wanna duel?!

Cleo: Do I want to punch you in the face a bunch? I do. But I’m drunk. I don’t know what you want from me.

—

Oli: There we go, I’ve got a side angle. I’m overtaking you, Heron! SLOOOOWWW

Cleo: *cuts him off*

Oli: No stop crashing! You’re crashing my port side!

Cleo: Well you know—

Oli: GET OFF ME PORT SIDE!

Cleo: NO ONE WANTS TO BE ON YOUR PORT SIDE, OK?!

Oli: Everyone wants to be on my port side!

—

Cleo: This is very far away. Like I haven’t heard Scott this whole time. I feel like Scott’s monologuing.

Aimsey: I can hear you though, Cleo!

Cleo: I hear YOU. And I—

Aimsey: You love that, right? You love hearing me. 😏

—

Cleo: *singing* What shall we do with a drunken sailor! What shall we do with a drunken sailor! What shall we— *talking* apparently put her in a boat and let her follow Scott, that’s what you need to do with a drunken sailor.

—

Oli: AIMSEY! AIMSEY! AIMSEY! STOP SINGING!

Aimsey: *distant singing*

Cleo: Oh I can’t hear Aimsey, that’s good.

Oli: CAUSE I HATE HERONS!

Cleo (a Heron): AIMSEY’S NOT A HERON!

SILENCE

Oli: …then what are they?

Cleo: They’re a Kite.

Oli: OH STUPID KITES! Herons, you’re alright. KITES. Imbeciles.

—

Owen (talking to chat): No, there’s no canon lives, chat. Except in specific cases. *whispering* check with Twitter.

Cleo: YOU’RE BREAKING MY EMERSION OWEN!

Owen: Sorry!

—

Olive: Hey! Where does a pirate go to school? HARRRvard!

Cleo: …You’re out of the faction.

Olive: Oh no! Not on my second day! H—how does a pirate protect themself? ARRRmour.

Cleo: …I’m gonna run a vote…

Olive: No it’s fine, I’ll go join the Kite’s or something, it’s fine.

Cleo: Oh dear.

Olive: What do you call it when two pirates are in a draw? A staleMATEY.

Cleo: OUT! OUT OF THE FACTION!

—

*Cleo walks up to a female NPC*

Cleo: Hello sweet lady 😏

—

Other things I also enjoyed

•Scar managing to get a Jellie and literally everyone swarming around to pet her

•Scott, Aimsey, Cleo, and Oli sailing together and all of them singing a completely different pirate song simultaneously.

•The entire dynamic between Cleo and Aimsey

•Cleo being HELLA sus of Cruppy the entire time right up until Scott hands it a beer and it drinks and suddenly Cleo’s just like actually you know what? You’re alright. We cool.

•Cleo being given babysitting duty and then literally within 5 minutes pawning off the child with a rival faction

•Cleo using being drunk as an excuse for everything. Lag? Everyone is drunk because she keeps giving out alcohol. Server crash? Don’t mind her she’s just vomiting in the corner of a pub somewhere. No tools? She needs the iron to make kegs for MORE alcohol. Oh you wanna fight? I would but I’m drunk. Shit babysitter? I’m a drunk what do you want from me? She signs off for the day and her excuse for her absence is literally just “imma go get blackout drunk for a solid 14 hours”. The fact that the excuse works lore wise for almost every situation.

•THE ANIMATICS

•The LORE. JUST ALL THE LORE

Solid start. 10/10

[thunderstruck9]

Ai Weiwei (Chinese, 1957), Men Shen Kite, 2014. Silk and bamboo, 50 ½ x 47 ½ in.

[the-griffons-saddlebag]

💎 𝗡𝗲𝘄 𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗺! Windswept Kite
Wondrous item, uncommon ___ This blue silk kite is 5 feet across and is attached to a 60-foot string. It weighs 1 pound and can be folded into a 6-inch square. While holding the kite, you can use a bonus action to toss it aloft and speak its command word. When you do, you also choose how much string to let out, between 10 and 60 feet. The kite then expands to its full size (if it was folded) and creates a cylinder of moderate wind of 10 miles per hour, which allows it to continue flying. The cylinder’s height and diameter is the same as the amount of let-out string, up to 60 feet. The kite and top of the cylinder remain centered above your location. You can use another bonus action to speak the flying kite’s command word to end the effect and cause it to fall softly back into your hand. You can change the wind’s direction at the start of each of your turns for the duration. You can use the kite to create this wind for up to 1 hour, all at once or in several shorter intervals, each one using a minimum of 1 minute from the duration. The effect ends early if you are no longer holding the string, at which point it flies up to 1d10 times 10 feet in a random direction before landing on the ground. Dealing 5 slashing damage to the string (AC 15) severs it, causing the kite to fly away as if you let go of the string. The severed string can later be reattached by holding its ends together for 1 minute. ___ ✨ Patrons get huge perks! Access this and hundreds of other item cards, art files, and compendium entries when you support The Griffon's Saddlebag on Patreon for less than $10 a month!

[heretyc]

7/11 [Coyle x Gooseberry x Barbi x Reader POLYAM] [MODERN AU] [SHORT]

An AU where Sinyala occurs, it's just more modern. TW for weed usage. You're implied to be high as a kite lol.

"Why in the shit are we at a fuckin'..."

Coyle's eyes narrowed behind his sunglasses, his lips pursed, "...7/11, at 2 in the fuckin' morning?"

"Baby wanted it," Barbi grunted from the driver's seat, the corvette's engine humming and eventually dying out. "She's high again."

Coyle rolled his eyes, which Gooseberry seemed to notice; she shot him a glare, her hand continuing its stroking of your head, "She was having flashbacks of the institution, you can't blame her."

"There are better ways to deal with flashbacks." Coyle raised a brow, turning to look at the two of you. "Like beer. Or a good nap."

"Horse piss can't compare to the delicious high of marijuana, copper." Barbi snickered, taking the keys out of the ignition; the sound of his keys was loud to your sensitive ears, making you hiss.

"Sorry, sorry...just wanted some munchies. There's none at the house."

"It's alright, dear," Gooseberry cooed, laying a kiss onto your head. Futterman chortled on her free hand, "Nothing hits more than munchies at 2s in the fucking morning."

"If you fuckin' say so," Coyle grumbled, getting out of the car, Barbi following.

None of you were dressed properly; Barbi was in his silk robe, pajamas and tank top, Coyle was in his t-shirt and sweats, and Gooseberry was wearing her favourite nightgown coated in teeth.

Futterman had his sleep cap. As he should.

You stumbled out of the car, Gooseberry sliding behind you in order to keep you upright. "What is it you want from in here, dear? I've never been," She hummed, looking at the convenience store with curiosity.

"Just some munchies, y'know." You wiped your face, your vision blurry. "Chips, candy, a Slurpee-"

"A Slurpee?" Franco snickered as he looked back at you, his hands in the pockets of his robe, "Only you would want a slurpee at this time, babydoll."

"I had a feelin's you were the person for us," Futterman honked, "What kind of Slurpee?"

"Blue raspberry and cherry mixed together," You stated, a brow raised, "Purple flavour."

"Fucking's hell, you're making me salivate!"

"Hush now, Dr. Daddy," Gooseberry's hand was gentle as she began to guide you to the entrance, the two men walking inside and Coyle holding the door open for the two [errm...three] of you. "Now, we should be in and out of here in no time."

That was a lie.

You stood in front of the Slurpee machine, staring at the swirling, icy sludge as it mixed atop the machines; arrays of blues and reds and greens and yellows...oh my! Your poor, high mind couldn't believe what you were seeing.

Barbi was gentle as he put a hand onto your shoulder. "What is it? Thought you wanted to get your..." He trailed off, looking up at the machinery, then into your eyes. "...Oh." He smirked. "Alright, I'll get ya your...purple flavour."

He grabbed the biggest cup they had, beginning to mix half cherry and half blue raspberry; once finished, he put a lid on it, then inserted the straw.

Out of pure curiosity, he took a sip, humming in delight. "That shit's pretty good...Red 40 tends to hit the fuckin' spot, no?" Barbi snorted. He placed it into your hands, gently moving you near the checkout. "Here, I'll get myself one. Just hang tight."

"I think we're about done," Coyle announced, his large arms full of snacks that could fill an army, or 3 Prime Assets and 1 Reagent.

"Are ya fuckin's crazy?" Futterman snarled, "All of that candy will rot your fucking teeths!"

"Hush," Gooseberry shushed the enraged goose, gently patting his head, "It's only for tonight, Dr. Futterman! And we'll brush really well before bed."

"Yeah, Dr. Futterman," Coyle teased, "We'll brush until our gums fuckin' bleed redder than the Commie flag. Promise."

"...Whatever, just save the pork crisps for mes!"

"Typical," Barbi snickered, putting a lid onto his own Slurpee; inside was a tropical punch-esque concoction, consisting of mango, coconut and a hint of Coca Cola, however he seemed to be carrying 2 others. "Goose, I got ya a cherry one, and Copper...I know how much you like your lime and Cola." Barbi made a slight face of disgust at the combination, but otherwise remained respectful.

"You know me so well! Now I just need yer pot of gold," Coyle teased. "Come on, let's check out."

The cashier had looked just as high as you; with long, dreaded hair in a ponytail and his eyes red, he merely smirked at the selection. "Damnnn...you guys got the munchiesss?"

"Just her," Coyle pointed to you, your eyes still stuck on the Slurpee machine. "We're offering moral and dietary support."

"Siiiick," he was slow to scan everything, but eventually the total came up to...

"53.29, brah," the cashier wheezed in amusement, "That's a crimeeee, man. Can't help the munchiesssss...here."

The total slowly came down to a mere twenty dollars, to which Coyle gleefully slammed into the cashier's delicate palm. "Thank you, my good man."

"You're welcomeee," the cashier slurred, putting the Slurpees into a tray and your items into plastic bags. "Enjoy."

And that's how you 4 had the most fun night of your life.

Except for Futterman, because he can't sleep knowing you had enough sugar to power a rhinoceros.

[the-californicationist]

The Rush

MDNI/18+

You drag your tight-laced bodyguard, John Price, out to the club. He gets a bit of a contact high from your molly, and lets you ride his thigh to the rhythm.

TW: drug use, thigh riding, come on clothing

+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+

Troye Sivan’s “Rush” was playing in the background, the heavy bass thumping through the hollow of your chest, and you were just beginning to feel the effects of the little blue pill you took in the car. The lights of the club were chaotic, brilliantly so, and you let the music guide you. But, you were lonely.

Your bodyguard was sulking off to the side, dressed like a cop even in casual wear, gripping his gun like it was going to fly away. You loved to bother this man. It didn’t hurt that he was fine as hell, built like a bull, and some type of ex-special forces bloke. It was those eyes, though. Something about the way he looked at you, like you were the only person in the world.

You sauntered over to him, teasing him for the nth time tonight.

“Hey, John,” you rubbed yourself on him like a cat, “You having fun yet, big boy?”

He smiled with a little huff, scanning the room,

“No, ma’am. Workin’. Fun is for when I get off the clock.”

“I can get you off…” you had finally done enough to earn a long, hard stare, “Maybe not the clock, but…”

You smiled slyly and ran your hands up his shirt, feeling the hair and sweat sticking to his skin. His belly jumped under your hand, giving him away. He didn’t stop you, though, so you kept playing with him, letting his body keep you warm as you sweated out your drugs.

You were high as a kite, and all of his texture was making you hyper focused, stimulating yourself with the crease of his muscles, the scent of his cologne.

“Don’t you think it’s time we called it a night, ma’am?”

He tried to look at the crowd again, but your writhing form and your exploring hands were a little too distracting. You turned away from him, planting your plump arse against his crotch, grinding against him, hoping to feel his cock.

You reached up and looped your hands around his shoulders, digging into the meat of him, finding his bones,

“No, sir, I don’t. I think you should dance with me.”

You must’ve been higher than you thought. As the room pulsed around you, beating at you like a heart, you could have sworn you heard him moan. You whined your hips, trying to make him hard. Then, you went from feeling soft, loose fabric to something else entirely.

Surely…

You rolled around his hip again, just to be certain.

Surely, that monster was his gun and not his dick?

It was your turn to moan, and you did it with abandon. No one could hear you anyway, and the whole club was focused on their own experiences, not on you and your fucking obvious narc.

“Is that you, baby? My God, you are a big boy, aren’t you?”

He didn’t say anything, but he did place a hand on your hip, holding you noncommittally. It was too soft to be a push, but it was firm enough for you to feel his warm hand through the silk of your mini dress.

You grabbed it and brought it up the front of your body, bringing his palm to your breast, letting him feel the tight hardness of your nipple and the unbelievable softness of your flesh.

You heard it again. John had moaned into your ear, you were sure of it. As if to confirm your suspicions, he gave you the most delicate squeeze, and then released you.

You turned back around to find a very different man looking down at you. His eyes were blown, and he was breathing heavily through his nose.

“Don’t you wanna dance with me?” You begged.

Grabbing his fingers in your small hand, you brought them not to your breast but lower this time, under the short hem of your dress. You were still grinding against each other to the relentless beat, and it wasn’t until you tucked his hand all the way down between your legs that you watched his rhythm falter.

His fingers collided with your wet folds, slipping into them easily, and he reached deeper on his own accord, exploring your hole and all of the warm, soaking things it was promising him.

You cried out, planting a kiss to his collarbone, letting him finger fuck you as you grinded into each other, stirring up an intense flood of emotions and feelings, making your high feel like it would carry you to the ends of the earth together.

It was intoxicating to watch him untie himself from the ropes of his duties, and you could feel him humping into you on purpose, now, thrusting over the curve of your belly with his enormous length as he fingered you in the crowded club. The blue and green lights that lasered across his eyes made him look like a demon, snarling and hungry for you and everything you kept secret.

“How about you dance right here?” Price purred.

He took his hand from you and tasted you. Price licked you from his fingers, just like he was flipping the page of a book. Then, he raised up his knee and shoved it, hard, between your legs, giving you something wide and solid to grind on. Instinctively, your hands wrapped around his thigh, or tried to anyway, holding yourself steady.

Your fingertips brushed against the sensitive head of his cock, long enough to have reached your grip, and you gasped. Straddling him was a whole new experience, and your drug-soaked mind was reeling from it. It overwhelmed you, and as you used one hand to palm his cock on the outside of his jeans, you used your other to help rock your hips back and forth across the denim, reveling in the texture.

His head fell back when you touched him with your hand, and you smiled, praising him,

“You feel so damn huge.”

John’s eyes focused back on you in a flash, and you moved together, surging when the beat rose, and collapsing together when it fell, the two of you caught in its current.

He wrapped his huge hands around your waist and held you down on him firmly, keeping your pace for you.

His smile turned sinister as he commanded you,

“Let go. Let me.”

You did as he bade, wrapping the hand that had been steadying you around his hulking shoulder instead. His grip was painfully tight around your body, and his fingertips dug cruelly into your arse cheeks, pressing your wet pussy down into his muscle and bone.

He forced you back and forth along his thigh, picking up speed to match the drum and bass. You felt him stoke and blow at the fire within your core, and you looked up to him with a face you knew was full of your hungry lust.

“Is that what you needed, hm?”

“I need this thick cock, John.”

“Come for me, and I’ll give it to you, darlin’,” he promised darkly, leaning down to growl his words right into your ear.

You sent back a long moan into his, letting him drive your hips and rub your clit against him. You felt the wetness of the denim beneath you, and you knew you were soaking a spot into his pants.

“I’m getting you all wet,” you whined into his neck, licking along his throat just as he was kissing yours, sucking on your sensitive skin.

“Doesn’t matter,” he grunted, ruthless in his pace, “I’ve got you.”

The lights and sounds and colors and smell of him all invaded your mind. It was too much, and it was not enough. Everything was swirling together and you were floating through it, letting it carry you along like a stray leaf down a stream, buoyant and vulnerable.

But, John was there. He anchored you to him, letting your high run you wild while he kept you safe, locked in his hands. The molly was making you emotional, and when you started to come, you weren’t sure if it was from his physical efforts or from his delicate care.

You held onto his cock like a lifeline, stroking him steadily for comfort. It felt so good to press into his swollen head with your palm. He was so warm, like a glowing torch beneath your fingers. You wanted to see it.

You lost the pacing, but he kept it for you, grunting with every push and pull of your body, sounding as if he was coming with you as you tumbled over your peak, whimpering and mewling for him, pliant as a petal in his hands.

“John, please… oh, fuck!”

“I know, baby, I know. I know. I know…” He chanted to you. His voice invaded your mind and the club fell away. It was just you and John in the blackness of your mind.

Under your hand, you felt his cock jump at you, leaping toward you out of the thick cloth that trapped it to his body. Then, you felt a wetness soaking through at his tip, and you rubbed it faster, encouraging him, hoping he would come with you. The wet spot grew, spanning out in a small puddle, staining the fabric darkly.

His teeth were on you then, holding you at your throat, not biting, but not letting go. His cries were a symphony of sound, and they made your entire nervous system light up. You felt incredible as you listened to him coming, ruining his jeans as you ruined them as well, making him look like he’d spilled a drink all over himself in very conspicuous spots.

As he came down, he was laughing, softly, chuckling from sheer disbelief. You’d wrung him out like a cloth, and the ragged sigh that came from his throat told you so.

He helped you off of his knee, careful not to hurt you. He fixed the edge of your dress so that it fell where it meant to, and then he looked down to survey the damage.

You didn’t like the sobering look on his face, and you’d do anything to keep him in your thrall. So, you grabbed his hand and led him out back to where your limo was parked. Pushing through the mass of writhing bodies just made you want to be closer to him.

You asked the driver to take you home, straddling John’s lap on the seat, eager for round two. You heard the privacy screen roll up and you smiled. You found your purse and pulled out your last two pills, sticking both of them in your mouth. Then, you leaned down to kiss him, feeding him one.

He swallowed it, to your surprise.

“I thought you’d protest about being on the clock, baby…” you started to unbutton his shirt, playing with his nipples when you found them, rubbing your fingers through his thick hair.

He kissed you again, a little more chastely this time, and peeked down at his watch,

“It’s 0300, ma’am. I’m a free man.”

“Turn the music up, then,” you said, kissing his neck as he used the remote to turn up the volume, letting your shared high carry you all the way home.

+=+=+=+=+=+=+

Okay, listen. Just hear me out for a second, okay. Okay, look… lol 😂 I have been listening to Troye Sivan’s “Rush” all freaking season and every time I listen to it, all I can imagine is gruff, huffy, serious John Price on the dance floor with you as you slowly convince him to let loose and dance-fuck you. I will not be explaining myself further!!! It is burned into my mind. 😂 I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please. Sorry!!!

[paganimagevault]

The draco standard of Niederbieber 3rd C. CE. The only fully preserved draco standard. Found in the Limes fortress of Niederbieber.

"The Draco comprises of three elements: the head: the tail or body and the noise-making device. The head was perhaps the least difficult since the craftsman had the example of the Niederbieber Draco on which to base their re-creation. The head consists of two copper parts, upper and lower, which are riveted together to create an open mouth and in addition the eye-holes are unfilled (to promote air passage?). The tail was more problematic as no tail has survived or been discovered in excavations. The tail for the experimental Draco was based on the one shown on Trajan’s column and was made of silk because of its weight and density. From the illustration on the column, it appeared that the tail was attached to the head by means of a drawstring, which meant it could be removed from the head easily – presumably for the purpose of cleaning. It was estimated that the tail was approximately 9 foot long.

When it came to the noisemaker, the archaeologists were firmly in the dark. There are no clear references in the written or pictorial evidence as to what made the sound. In examining the excavated examples, it did not appear that the Draco head had any fittings apart from those which attached it to its pole. This suggested that the noisemaker s were not fitted to the head and so the logical conclusion that follow from this work that they were fitted to the pole. After experimenting of a number of different types of whistles the team settled on Chinese kite whistles, which themselves date from ancient times. It is known that examples of these whistles traveled into Western Europe in ancient times and so these seemed a plausible method to choose. During the experiments, these were initially fitted on the pole inside the head, but due to the reduced airflow they made no sound whatsoever. An alternative was sought and they were re-positioned on the pole just below the head. This proved a great success as even if the horse was walking, a good sound could be heard if the wind was in the right direction. At a gallop into the wind it was found that the sound can be heard above horse’s hooves at a distance of at least 200 m."

-taken from petesfavouritethings

[mapofsouthdakota]

Caleb’s myth -

The Vermillion bird

AU: You are at the Vermillion birds court. Captive?

(Shortish+. Romance, fluff, touchy and immersive. I hope)

Chasing Temptation

The sun spills golden light over the endless field, catching on the crimson silk of Caleb’s robes as he dashes ahead, laughter ringing through the air. His eyes shimmer with mischief as he holds the kite aloft, just out of reach.

"Caleb!" you call, chasing after him. "You giant bird-brained dummy! Give it back!"

He pivots smoothly, evading your grasp.

Caleb laughs. “Who knows more about flying, little sun? You, or me?” He lifts the kite higher, golden eyes glinting. “Just making sure it soars - properly”

“Oh yeah? Well, it would've flown just fi-"

One moment, you’re running, breathless with laughter, caught in his game. The next, the world tilts.

A sharp gasp, a blur of motion, and then—impact. Strong arms catch you as you tumble together, his warmth steady beneath you. His robe unfurls mid-fall, crimson and gold billowing like a banner caught in the wind, before settling around you both in silken folds.

Caleb grins, eyes glinting with mischief as the kite hovers effortlessly above you both, defying gravity with his unseen touch. Its tail flutters in the wind, dipping low, tracing phantom patterns just above where you lay tangled together.

“Well, well,” he teases , breathless but utterly amused. “Didn’t think you’d be falling for me so literally.”

His fingers tighten just slightly at your waist, his voice dipping—playful, yet edged with something else. “Should I catch you again, just to be sure?”

His gaze roams your face before drifting lower, his touch following. Fingers brush along your ribs—soft, deliberate—as he shifts, guiding you effortlessly to his side.

The world tilts with the motion, the warmth of his body drawing you in until you’re resting against him, the silk of his robe sprawling beneath you like gilded wings.

One arm tightens around you, holding you close, while the other reaches up, fingertips threading through your hair as he plucks a stray tuft of grass—his touch lingering, careful, as if savoring the moment.

He twirls the grass between his fingers, lips curling into a smirk. “Trying to grow a meadow up here, little sun? Bold choice.”

You huff, puffing your cheeks as you swat at his hand. “Oh, please! If anyone’s sprouting a whole garden, it’s you.”

Grinning, you reach for his hair, fingers aiming for the dark strands. “Hold still, let me check—maybe you’ve got a whole tree growing in there.”

Before your fingers can reach, his hand catches yours—firm, lingering. His golden eyes burn, smoldering embers searching yours, not with mischief, but with something deeper, something aching. A silent pull, a quiet prayer, as if he is waiting—hoping—for you to reach for him just once more. And you do—your fingers brushing into his ash-brown hair, tangling softly.

Your breath falters. The laughter that once lit his face softens, folding into something bittersweet—something familiar, something unknown. A joy laced with sorrow, as if caught between memory and desire.

Then, as if the very light bends to him, his golden eyes dissolve into a violet so deep, so endless, galaxies stir within them—brushed with the faintest whisper of pink. Ethereal. Otherworldly. A sight slipping between dream and reality, too fleeting to grasp, too mesmerizing to look away from.

Your breath stumbles, the words barely forming as you stare into the shifting hues. "Hey, Caleb… your eyes—"

Caleb hushes you softly, his eyes falling shut as if shielding something unspoken. Gently, he takes your hand, guiding it to his lips.

His breath trembles against your skin, warm and unsteady, his lips brushing over your fingers in a touch so delicate it nearly aches. His smile lingers—yearning, bittersweet—as if caught between restraint and desire, a promise and something far more consuming.

Caleb presses one final, lingering kiss to your ring finger—wetter, deeper, almost reverent. A breath shudders through him, the edges of his lips grazing your skin as if reluctant to part.

Then, his eyes flick open—no longer galaxies, but burning embers once more.

He rises smoothly, still holding your hands, his grip firm yet lingering. With a playful tug, he pulls you to your feet, his smirk unwavering.

“Come on,” he teases, his eyes alight with mischief and something warmer—joy, excitement, the thrill of another excuse to spoil you.

“Can’t have my little sun all messy, can I? Let’s get you cleaned up.” His fingers squeeze yours—just for a moment. “I’ll take you to my secret spot. Exclusive access,” he adds with a wink. “A bath fit for someone special.”

You follow without a word, the kite trailing behind like a silent witness.

Because you've seen those eyes before.

Writer’s note: I’m finally satisfied with the setting. We needed to know the purple eyes. Now they can start getting more touchy feely. Brb touch grass before writing steamier stuff

[macaroni-stars]

VALENTINE'S DAY HEADCANONS PART 2

Lando × Leia

Now those two are the ones to go ALL IN for the dates. Okay, okay, mostly Lando. But you just know he is aware of how lucky he got with Leia and he is not taking his chances with letting her go.

Forget the custom robes made one day after her arrival at Cloud City, there will be a new ballgown made from the finest Sleedaran silk waiting for her along with a love letter, written by hand, that starts with "To the white lily, of the valley that lies across my heart", and continues in the similar high-end fashion until Leia huffs with a big smile, and skims through it to get to the point. Unfortunately, the Festival of Love is one day where Lando knows she is required to give him more than a rare free minute of notice, so the letter is only a piece of an elaborate scavinger hunt that leads her through all the memorable places in Cloud City. Not for too long, though. Because Lando can't stand a thought of not showering her with his full and undivided attention.

He meets her at the balcony and takes her hand in his, pressing a kiss to her knuckles, holding her gaze with his, long, passionate, so unlike the playful flirtiness of first ever one, filled instead with blazing yearning that seeps through Leia's skin and makes a shiver run down her spine and the tips of her ears heat up.

It's everything anyone could wish for. A visit to the opera, a walk down the shopping lane, bying anything Leia's eye even lands on, a private dinner prapared by the best chefs of Bespin, held ceremoniously in the very dining room that nearly put a stop to their blooming love once.

And Lando is charming, and Lando is gallant, and Lando's shirt and cape matches her gown. And he brings her a bouquet he made himself, and he moves her chair out for her, and he carries all the books she had bought, and his words are smooth and lovely, but Leia cares little for all of it.

Leia cares about him letting an older couple take their seats at the opera. About him excusing himself on the shopping street to help a kid climb up the tree to get his kite, and safely get down. About the agnowlegements he whispers to every cook and waiter when he thinks she isn't looking. About him offering her more comfortable shoes, giving her his cape, asking how Luke is doing.

Leia loves him for the care he takes in others, not a show he's putting on for her. And what she's most looking forward to is simply being alone with him in their room.

part one (skysolo)

[gravity-what]

Chinese Character on Shen Gong Wu Scroll?

One thing I’ve been curious about is the bottom left symbol on the Shen Gong Wu scroll. This one:

And what it could mean for the Shen Gong Wu itself and, well, I found images of as many of the Wu entries as I could and I present you with translations:

熊 = Bear = mikado arms, fist of tebigong,

龍 = Dragon = ring of the nine dragons, Fountain of Hui, Lunar Locket, shroud of Shadows, Sapphire Dragon, Longi Kite, Shard of Lightning, Sands of Time, Ying-Yo-Yo (NOTE: Yang Yo-Yo’s page is blank), WuShan Geyser, Moby Morpher, Kuzusu Atom, Rio Reverso, Ruby of Ramses,

蛇 = Snake = Mind reader conch, Sphere of Yun, serpents tail, Lotus Twister,

猴 = Monkey = Mantis flip coin

蠍 = Scorpion = emperor scorpion, Manchurian Musca

豹 = Leopard = Eye of Dashi, Sword of the Storm, Crouching Cougar, Shadow Slicer

鹿 = Deer = Helmet of Jong

蝶 = Butterfly = Changing Chopsticks, Wings of Tinabi, Shadow of Fear, woozy shooter, Denshi Bunny, Zing Zom-Bone

象 = Elephant = Two-Ton Tunic

鷹 = Eagle = Tangle Web Comb, Falcons Eye, Crystal Glasses, Reversing Mirror

鯨 = Whale = orb of Tornami

螳螂 = mantis = Glove of Jisaku, Fancy Feet,

? 虫 = insect = Black Beetle (I get the feeling this is supposed to be beetles as well like ants in the pants but whoever drew the scroll didn’t know what they were doing…)

甲蟲 = beetles = ants in the pants

蜘蛛 = Spider = Moonstone locust

牛 = Cow = Cannon Blaster

——

Personally (and I wish I had translated this earlier for the sake of fanfics) but bet is on these either being 1) the type of spirit that is trapped in the Wu (ex: a monkey spirit is what was trapped to create the mantis flip coin) or 2) potentially the symbol is more just to highlight a specific characteristic of the Wu. (Ex: the eagle character has two Wu that relate to vision and sight. However how the tangle web comb fits into that… idk)

Either way! Just some interesting notes for people to use as they wish! Also below the cuts are the unknowns since I couldn’t find a scroll image for them

Third-Arm Sash •

Jetbootsu •

Monkey Staff •

Golden Tiger Claws •

Star Hanabi •

Tongue of Saiping • = ????

Sun Chi Lantern • = ????

Heart of Jong •

Silver Manta Ray •

Wushu Helmet •

Thorn of Thunderbolt •

Tunnel Armadillo •

Ju-Ju Flytrap •

Silk Spitter •

Sweet Baby Among Us •

Lasso Boa-Boa •

Monsoon Sandals •

Mosaic Scale • = ???

Monarch Wings • = ???

Gills of Hamachi •

Eagle Scope •

Shen-Ga-Roo •

Golden Finger •

Hodoku Mouse •

[poduromorpha]

My little freaks 💚🐛

[Alt: A timelapse depicting a growing colony of black caterpillars, each smaller than a centimeter, sitting on the branches of a plum tree in a white void. The caterpillars lay down silk to form a kite-like tent, from which they venture out to various sprigs of leaves and swiftly consume them.]

Music: Plantasia, Mort Garson