#am I going to go back and fix it?

[give-me-one-good-reason]

Inktober day 16- Angel and day 17- Demon

As you may be able to tell from the date, this took longer than expected. Bit annoying that Tumblr compresses it so much but such is life.

I am really happy with the composition of this :)

[bookwyrminspiration]

god I would be UNSTOPPABLE if I was capable of consistently initiating tasks. just you wait. you'll be waiting a while but just you wait

[thisnoah]

"You treat your mouth as if it's Heaven's gate"

[Too Sweet by Hozier]

[livecrow]

Imagine you want to try waxing your pussy, but it turns out to be quite the challenge to actually see what the hell you're doing.

Naturally you ask your boyfriend for help.

Simon won't hear any of it, growls that he's fond of your scruff. "Like 'er jus' the way she is." Her being your snatch.

You pout and try to coax him.

No dice.

You don't give up that easily, obviously. Besides, if you have to, you'll just do it yourself even if it ends up a smidge patchy.

So there you are, full winnie the poohing it on the living room couch, trying to contort yourself this way and that, armed with the waxing strips and a hand mirror. Just trying to get the right angle. The whole spectacle right in front of an unamused Simon.

You spread your knees wide, as wide as you can, to prop up your pussy. Mash your tummy and thighs out of the way, spread your lips out, grunting and whining all the way with exertion while you fumble with the wrapper. You're almost ready to just say "fuck it" and go in completely blind—

You should have been more suspicious when Simon gives in, when he marches over and grunts a short "fine". When manhandles you into an even more uncomfortable and exposed position he finds more suitable.

After the first couple of strips your ready to throw up your white flag and forget about the whole thing. When you tell him as much and try to wriggle out from under him—

Simon just laughs meanly.

"You wanted it, now we're gonna see it through, aren't we?"

Simon'd enjoy your squeals and teary eyes. Every jolt of your body trying to escape the pain your subjecting it to.

"Serves you right for tryin' to deface my sweet'eart."

For how much it hurts, you don't have the awareness to realize he'd actually doing it all somewhat carefully. Each strip layed in the right direction, smoothed down with enough pressure, ripped off in one quick motion. Hell, he even rubs the skin to soothe the sting while he peels the next strip.

...Rubs your pussy. Soothing circles into your heated, plump mons and outer lips that you could almost read as apologetic. He wasn't feeling hardly any sympathy for you, though. No, it was for her.

On the next strip your startled when his thumb actually grazes your clit, while the rest of his palm pulls the skin taught.

You wondered if it was just a slip, but alas. Nothing Simon does is ever an accident.

The traitor peeked out from the hood in interest. Every other strip after that has him stroking your pearl mercilessly, like his own worry stone.

The hot ripping pain melds with pleasure, it isn't long at all before your keening and dripping under his ministrations. It was inevitable.

Simon sounded so put out. Sighing, tisking that you're, "Sloppy fuckin' wet. Strip isn't gonna stick now, is it?" as if you're an idiot, trying to be difficult purpose.

As he chastises you, he crams two thick fingers in your hole, like he's trying to stem a bleeding wound. It punches the air out of your lungs. He tells you you're gonna ruin it, that they'll have to start all over if you keep this up.

He's about as done as he's gonna be, considering your drippy cunt. "Look at 'er. Poor thing's cryin', isn't she?" He coos to your crotch.

Simon turns back to you but his tone isn't sweet, he barks at you to stop squirmin', unless you want him to you fuck you while your still oll raw and stingin'. Since that's clearly what you want now.

He's always givin' you want you want, huh? You're spoiled rotten.

[theoldkyokodied]

[Hi Dennis. How was the lion feeding?...?]

This has been something I've been working on for quite a while now, as some people who look at my insta story might know, but I'm finally done!! those text messages from s14ep5 are so unhinged, they haunt me every goddamn day. To drop "i love you so much" just to follow it with what essentially is a "no homo.. for u... even tho u r so hot and i like you so much!". exploading them with my mind into a million pieces, okay?

[farceurcole]

[lennsart]

Happy new year !

I was @cinis0 and @lunaopus's gifter in the Adjunation server gift exchange ! You two asked for some Wild content, so I delivered :D

(This is supposed to be in a "webtoon" format, so the experience will be better if you don't click on the images, I just couldn't make it one picture it was too heavy—)

[renonv]

Here comes the Sun himself ☀️

glassless versión

[roseyskypeach]

The Tiger and Bird were shipping them before anyone else was. They just wanted Jinu to be happyyyyyyy

[comicaurora]

Is it just me, or has anyone else felt that the recent Aurora commentary/critique has been shifting over to being more pointed?

nothing I've noticed, but I don't go out of my way to seek it out so I'm the wrong person to ask

[surreal-duck]

some business to take care of

[lalalalalalakakakak]

Desperate times require desperate solutions

When the internet at the V-Tower doesn't work and Vox needs to do the UNTHINKABLE (going outside)

[sulfadimethoxine]

Ahhh I know there are details and stuff missing but yea

Looks more like wooden puppets but it’s alright

Yep as good as it will get

[astarfromsomewhere]

[Drops this and skitters away]

[m1d-45]

will you promise that i'll see you again?

summary: your people refuse reason, and their damage refuses to heal. when it seems as if the whole world has left you, your dutiful knight still remains by your side.

word count: 2.3k

-> warnings: implied suicidal ideation (reader + unnamed side character), reader's previous deaths are mentioned in somewhat graphic detail

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @yuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk

< masterlist >

“you’re one of the only things keeping me going, you know.”

dainslef turned to you in surprise, the even neutrality to your tone a sharp contrast to the rapid pace of his heart. he wasn’t a fool, he knew that the hunt had to be taking a heavy toll on you, but this…

this was more than he expected.

he knew he was one of a pitiful few who saw through celestia’s false puppet, who knew you for you and not their mirage. he knew that the entire world was hellbent on erasing you from existence, that you’d been forced through your own death countless times as teyvat pulled you apart and pushed you back together far from the scene of your would-be murder. he saw the golden scars across your skin, the dried remains of blood lining the wounds you hadn’t been able to patch yet. he’d been the one to wash them away, not minding the refuse soaking into his gloves if it meant your hands could be clean.

he recognized the dull exhaustion in your eyes, the same as the ones he saw in the reflections of lakes. tired, worn, barely there, hanging on by one solitary string that was wound so tightly around a desperate hand.

you had always been his reason for continuing. when the traveller broke down and the ruler of the abyss hid from the sun, you were there. when the chasm’s mud clung to his boots and the memories in his head burned as nails forced between his eyes, you were there. his rosary was kept tight to his chest at all times, familiar prayers pulling him up in the morning and forcing him to sleep at night. he was alive for far, far too long, but you made it bearable. you were his duty, his promise.

he never once thought that he’d be yours. then again, he never thought that he’d have to defend you from the ones you once called friends. time never did pass how he expected it to.

“…leading light?”

you looked down, twirling blades of grass around your fingers. he had led you up to a mostly desolate area of sumeru, west of bayda harbor. it close enough to the sea, forest, and desert that you could reasonably make an escape through any of those routes if need be, while also providing a rather pleasant view. the sky was bleeding red and gold as the sun sank below the horizon, a remarkable sight that fell on blind eyes. there was no use trying to enjoy nature’s beauty when he still kept one hand on his sword and both ears pricked for the slightest sign of danger.

you shouldn’t have to worry about your safety. you shouldn’t have to prioritize based on how likely you are to get hurt, or how easily it would be to make an escape. you still flinched when the wind blew a little too quick, used to it heralding armored footsteps and battle cries. in another life, you were welcomed with open arms, able to enjoy yourself without constantly being on high alert. teyvat did what it could to adapt; the air was still, frozen in time, barely a bird chirping for miles. it was meant to be comforting, he thinks, but dead silence was more unnerving than any breeze.

“i mean it.” he could hear every shift in his cloak around your shoulders, the heavy fabric doing little to soothe your stress. it was yours more than it was his now, to the point he felt claustrophobic wearing it. how long had he been traveling with you? the days blurred.

“i don’t doubt you.” he never would. never could. he’s not sure, even if he somehow wanted to, that his body would allow him to treat your words as anything less than fact. “but i don’t understand what you mean.”

you were a god. the creator, the first, the one that shaped the sovereigns scales and laid the foundations of earth. you predated the archons, celestia, the very skies themselves…

and he, somehow, was a driving motivation for you?

his words must have been funny, a sharp laugh tumbling out of your mouth. it was bitter, humorless, and somewhat raspy. he made note to find some water for you later. “what else could i mean?” you turn to him, some of his confusion lost as your eyes found his. even this burnt out, deep bags set beneath them, you still managed to steal the very air in his lungs. “you’re the only reason i’m still here.”

he didn’t know what to say. what was there to be said, when you were you and he was him? when the world had abandoned you, it made sense you’d cling to what remained faithful. it was merely coincidence he happened to find you first, that’s all. coincidence that you trusted enough not to run from, coincidence that you allowed to care for your injuries. there was nothing to say, because you held nothing for him in particular, only leaning on him out of need. he had to believe that. what was he left with if that wasn’t true? an awkward truth hid beneath his well-known lies, too large for him to see the edges, let alone to contain.

“please… do not say such things again.” to ask of his god what he could not ask of himself was surely some form of heresy, as was willingly laying aside his guard when he was the only one who was tasked with protecting you. he pulled his attention from the tide below, from the rustling trees, holding faith that the world would not be needlessly cruel. he stepped forward, kneeling beside you. even up close, you still seemed painfully small. “it is your own resilience that has allowed you to persevere.”

it’s the earth that leads you from danger.

it’s the water that follows you wherever you go.

it’s the leylines that whisk you to safety.

it’s the wind that warns you of what’s to come.

it’s the you from the past that protects the you in the present.

it’s the you in the present that provides for the you in the future.

it’s you, from everywhere and everywhen, continuing to fight.

and yet you sigh. you look away, across the sea, tracing fontaines skyline. “it really isn’t. i was lucky to run into you when i did.”

you had just crossed the wall back into the forest, burning hot and shaking. he was the lucky one, in truth, to be able to pick your figure out from the sand below. perched on a high cliffside, even mitachurls were reduced to small brown flecks.

you had worn a cryo mage’s cloak, which was what initially drew his attention. abyss activity wasn’t uncommon in the area, but a cryo mage in the desert… that was cause for intrigue. he stepped forward and slid down the steep face in front of him, a slight puff of dust marking his landing in the desolate sand of old vanarana.

he didn’t know what to expect. you stumbled around the jagged remains of a tree, heading for the statue of the seven. he followed, only growing more confused. cryo and dendro did not react with each other, and there was no way to “slow” a statue. a scouting mission, maybe? but why a cryo mage, when pyro would have been far more advantageous in the case of an attack?

he leaned around the corner carefully, prepared for the sight of a staff or the chanting of abyssal magic filling the air. the entire world seemed to be holding its breath, frozen in place and waiting for some trigger to continue.

he saw none of that. you were collapsed at the foot of the statue, faint wheezing only making it to his ears by virtue of the standstill around him. you held no staff, commanded no magic, your chest barely moving with air.

he’d never seen a mage seek out the archons when dying. one hand squeezed the handle of his sword as he crept forward, ready to strike should the situation turn against him. the sand barely shifted beneath his feet, his own heart sounding too loud to his ears. you did not move, showing no signs that you had noticed his approach. he still didn’t trust it.

your cloak was tattered and torn, with thick gloves atypical of a mage. they reminded him more of hilichurl wraps, which was strange considering you wore no mask. your face was instead covered by what looked like eremite cloth, just as stained and dirtied as the rest of your clothes. what he could see looked almost human; in another life, he could believe you were a weary traveller, lost amidst the sand.

he was acting foolish. if the abyss had a human tool, he needed to figure out why. he reached down, undoing the sloppy knot of your veil and letting the brocade fall limply to the grass.

…grass. he blinked, eyes flickering between the ground and your face, not sure which was harder to believe. flowers had bloomed around you, protecting your body from the blazing sands, and he’d be a fool not to recognize the face plastered all over every bounty board.

he didn’t understand. if nothing else, he thought the archons would have enough respect for their creator to know when they were being lied to, yet before him was barely living proof of the inverse. sweat beaded along every inch of exposed skin, deep-set heat exhaustion burning you from the inside out. how could you be a threat? how could they be so blind?

he looked again, the shine of elemental sight straining his eyes, catching flickers of the dendro energy pouring from the statue. you were the only one the archons would feed. you were the only one to make the very earth break its own rules, allowing lotuses to bloom from barren soil. something painfully similar to rage threatened what remained of his rationality, and it took all he had to push it aside.

that didn’t matter. if he went off on some banal revenge quest, he’d be no better than them. your safety mattered more. he picked you up and set aside how calm his curse felt, beginning the trek back to his camp. behind him, the flowers already began to wither, losing their persistence without you to foster it.

perhaps that initial meeting was luck. but these was no luck involved in your trust in him. when you woke up and saw him at your side, you chose to trust him. you chose to believe that he was not like the others, that he would protect you, and he was forever grateful for that trust. nobody could fault you for being angry, for being spiteful about what you were put through and choosing to lash out. nobody would have the right to be upset if you chose to vent your wrath against those that had hurt you.

but you didn’t. you chose, again and again, to believe in the world. you chose to let them live their lives, even if it meant getting hurt again in the process. you chose a quiet life traveling with him over the comfortable life on your throne. to willingly choose to travel with a disgraced knight to spare your people guilt… he couldn’t decide if it was noble or reckless. either way, he was selfishly happy that he was the one to stay by your side.

“i won’t try to convince you. but, please.. do not give up on yourself so easily.” i know far too many who have died by the same hand. “the world and its opinion does not define you. only you get to decide where fate leads.”

you lean towards him, and he thinks you might have passed out- but no, your head lands on his shoulder with far too much precision. he stiffens, not used to existence without a constant pain beneath his skin. “how motivational. you tell all your soldiers that?”

his heart is beating too quickly, thoughts unusually hard to grasp. you’re the only one who could have this effect on him. he only wished it wasn’t now, when your belief in yourself was on the edge. “i mean it. none of this is your fault, and neither are celestial actions the people’s fault. i know that you are hurt, but i don’t want you to accept that main needlessly. you shouldn’t have to view your creation with such pain.” slowly, carefully, he raises the hand closer to you, doing his best not to disturb you as he settles it on your arm. he’s can only hope that the contact brings you as much comfort as it does him. “if nothing else, believe me. promise you’ll at least try.”

he doesn’t think you’ll agree. why would you make a promise to one who represents the heaven’s betrayal? why would you let him hold you close at all, when you can surely sense the bindings of those who tried to kill you wrapped tightly around his soul? he doesn’t know. all he can do is hope.

“…alright, dainslef. i promise.”

twilight has long since fallen, and yet he smiles for the first time in centuries.

[cerubean]

alice spencer-kim's second home