#arresting? mesmerising?

[maximura]

[purpleberiii]

What do you think will happen if Nightingale's wife reverted back to a child, let's say for about a week? But then the sinners want to steal Nightingale's wife to the point that Nightingale will walk in her office to see her wife surrounded with Zoya, Bai Yi, Langley, Shalom, Rahu, Eleven, Eirene, Chameleon, Chealsea and Hamel

All are planning something but luckily your wife was there to save you

-💜anon

Omg this is an amazing idea 😫

"Little Ms. Captain"

☆Prompt: Eureka made a potion and wanted the arrest captain to try it out. After seeing the effects of the potion, she knew she made a mistake somewhere.

☆Warnings: Wholesome fluff, includes, Nightingale, Bai Yi, Zoya, Langley, Eleven, Rahu, Chelsea, Eirene, Chameleon.

Since you it was your job to take care of the sinners, Eureka called you and several other sinners into her lab, asking each of them to be her test subject. None of them agreed, so you stepped up and agreed, not knowing that she accidentally mixed wrong chemicals inside the potion. You took a sip and didn't feel anything strange so you gave her a thumbs up.

At the end of the day, Nightingale and you were cuddling together in your shared bed and after a few touches and teasing, you made love to your wife, lasting for atleast four hours before falling asleep with a weird gut feeling.

The sun rays blared through the curtains of your shared room, Nightingale woke up, the sheets covering her red and bitten chest. She looked around and her heart stopped in her chest when she saw a child sprawled out on the bed, snoring away naked. "What in the hell?!" Hearing her loud voice, the child woke up, startled upon seeing the panicked expression on Nightingale's face. "Y/n? Is that you?"

"Yes it's me what-ahh!" You see how tiny your hands looked and realised that Nightingale looked bigger than usual. Did she grow? Or did you shrink? You pulled off the covers and saw tiny feet and toes. "Oh my fuck I'm a child! It must be the potion Eureka mixed for me!" Nightingale's was still in shock before she reached over and hugged you close to her body, squealing at her downright adorable you looked.

"H-hey! Hey stop it!" She didn't stop as she kept cuddling and kissing you. You sighed as you knew you weren't getting away anytime soon.

When you and her arrived, Nightingale had you wrapped up in her coat, your tiny frame clinging to her body. When chief asked where you were, she opened her coat and you popped out. "You're so little... and cute!!" Chief pulled you out of Nightingale's coat and squished you as Nightingale watched with a smile on her face.

Even though you were a child, you had no choice but to return to your station and when your arrest team saw you, they all squealed upon seeing a little Captain. Despite that cute facade, you had a strict and commanding tone, and no one could take you seriously that day. "I'm so sorry caption but you're just too cute!"

"Yeah boss, I can't take you seriously at all!"

You sighed at all the comments and let them off that day. Word got around quickly that the arrest captain turned into a child by one of the sinners and the other ones had crazy ideas.

In the afternoon, you were seated in Nightingale's office when the door creaked open and several sinners walked in with a mischievous smile on their faces. Even the leader of the Nineth agency was there. "What are you guys doing here?!" Your face was red due to embarrassment of them catching you.

"We came to pay our beloved Captain a respect," Langley replied with a smirk. The sinners started surrounding your chair, and Zoya kicked the table away to surround you from the front.

"Your cheeks are... chubby..." Hamel breathed out, mesmerised by your cute yet pretty face.

"Oh you sure can be my sugar baby," Chelsea out emphasis on 'baby'.

"For such a mean Captain, you are cute as a child," Shalom chuckled.

You gulped as you were surrounded by hot women. Before Chameleon could lift you, Nightingale's voice blared through the room. "Please step away from her!" She marched through the room and pushed through the Sinners and picked you up, with you immediately clinging to her.

"No touching!" They all 'awwed' at your squeaky voice before Langley told them all to return to their cells.

"Have fun in that form, little Ms. Captain," she smiled before walking away. You and Nightingale looked at each other before you whined and pouted, while she just chuckled.

"Well I guess I won't be letting you go any time soon then."

Let's just say, you paid Eureka a nice visit once you returned to normal.

[yeahthatsonearthdipshit000]

things that I didn't expect in each Lockood & Co. episode

E.1: This Will Be Us:

The intro is fucking sick

THE DOOR ON THE LANDING IS IN THE INTROOOOO

The Locket was changed to a ring?!????

Everything else was insanely accurate

"Lockwood's a dick"

E.2: Let Go Of Me:

Ghost-lock is like...a really big issue??

"Yeah, she can be a bit...quirky,"

Lockwood didn't use his smiley giraffe toy mobile😭

Uh Lucy was literally possessed~

LOCKWOOD'S RED SOCKSSS

"He's a little shit, sir."

The boys freaking out at the end when they find out Lucy had the ring the whole time

E.3: Doubt Thou The Stars:

"You've got a real hard-on for him, haven't you?" "Well, if you want to put it like that."

Combe Carrey Hall is ELEGANT

THE GOGGLES ARE SO GOOFY LOOKING OML

They got "arrested"???

Penelope Fittes just trotting up to them at the Fitte's boy's funeral??

LUCY GETTING HER FOURTH GRADE

LUCY JUST FUCKING PASSING OUT AT THE END???

E.4: Sweet Dreams:

Lucy wasn't at the wraith cemetery at the beginning of the whispering skull😭

"And you just wanna watch him...die."

JOPLIN IS A WOMANNNNNN💅💅💪💅😭

Kensel Green was owned by the Bickerstaffs and their son - Edmund - was caught digging up corpses uhhhhh

Lucy's mental breakdown in kensel green

Bickerstaffs ghost being so fucking huge and like disintegrating lucy's rapier

The skull's voice being like warped and so fucking creepy oml

"and it proves that I am like-" "clinically insane?" "REALLY FUCKIN POWERFUL"

"I know I look like Anthony Lockwood, but I'm not. I'm actually a fully qualified doctor."

The episode went by insanely quick??? Like?

E.5: Death Is Coming:

The Tendy's badge??

Joplin is giving....pedophile

Also is her actor the same one who plays molly in sherlock????

MRS WINKMAN IS A FUCKIN BADASS

Nahhh cuz winkman's freaking voice-

LOCKWOOD WAS IN AN ELECTRIC CHAIR THE WHOLE TIME LMAO

ALSO WHY IS WINKMAN SO VIOLENT ISN'T HE SUPPOSED TO CARESS LOCKY'S HAND AND TELL HIM TO GO AWAY??

Leopold was abused😭😭😭😭😭

E.6: You Never Asked:

The ghosts of bickerstaff's patients like that was so creepy

The Golden Blade's manbun💅

Salt sprinklers instead of water sprinklers??? And they're gorgeous??!???

E.7: Mesmerised

LOCKWOOD HYPERVENTILATING AT THE AUCTION AND HIM AND LUCY HOLDING EACH OTHER AND THE "NOW PLEASE PLEASE GET BACK TO BEING A FLIPPANT DICKGEAD AND GET US OUT OF HERE"😭😭😭

Golden blade snapping Lockwood's rapier and then lucy hoping up behind him and absolutely annihilating his fucking back

Lockwood was wearing blue socks this time

"You me and herons, let's do it" AHSHSVSH I'VE ALWAYS SHIPPED GEORGE AND FLO ITS FINALLY HAPPENINGBKAJDBD

LOCKWOOD HELPING LUCY OF THE GROUND AND THEM LOOKING AT EACH OTHER LIKE THEY'RE GONNA KISS AND THEN LUCY SHOVING LOCKY AND StRuTtInG AWAY

E.8: Not The Eternal:

All of the circles George drew on the thinking cloth

Winkman taking his jacket off like a baddie💅💪

"And I'm Anthony bloody Lockwood"

Kipps having a panic attack and totally crying in the catacombs😭

Kat godwin being so fucking sexy with her rapier

"To save my friends." 🏃‍♂️"And Kipps."🏃‍♂️

Golden Blade shooting Lockwood and yeeting him down into the catacombs

Luce using the skull to look at the bone glass????

Lockwood in his normal clothes at the end and all of them bustling around like a little family😭😭😭😭😭😭

"Lockwood almost died a thousand times, but I think he's decided he's better off alive. Which is really good"

LUCY SHOVING A DONUT IN GEORGE'S MOUTH LMAOOO

AND LOCKY WASN'T WEARING SHOES

IN CONCLUSION I AM READY FOR THE HOLLOW BOY

[duckysprouts]

the way you draw dick is honestly mesmerising your art is incredible <3

do u have any specific headcanons about dick’s teenage rebellion stage? angst or fluffy (:

he had a mullet when he lived in the manor that bruce payed him to keep short. when he moved out he grew it to his waist and dyed it blue.

roy was going thru his thing too and they’d party together and that’s how dick fell hard into the drug scene. to this day roy still resents himself for letting that happen.

if u ask 30 year old dick what happened at the time he couldn’t tell you much. it was all a blur. he knocked out a tooth while diving into a pool from the roof and missed the pool so he got it redone but he doesn’t remember which tooth it was

he lives in terror of the day one of his old party buddies recognizes him, or worse, recognizes him while he’s arresting them

he got a bunch of dumb tattoos that he had to cover up for work and only kori roy babs and wally know about them. one of them is wally’s face on sonic the hedgehog’s body

[cloudss-space]

A day to remember

( killer chat ) wedding day ronin x reader ... angst ...

trigger warning:

gore

The sky was a smear of bruised red and deep violet, the horizon bleeding into the earth as if the heavens themselves had cracked open. The field of spider lilies stretched endlessly before you, their crimson heads swaying in a silent, hypnotic rhythm, like a thousand whispered prayers to gods long forgotten. You had come here by instinct, drawn to the place where life and death seemed to tangle, where beauty thrived on the precipice of decay.

Ronin stood in the centre of the field, his dark figure stark against the sea of crimson. He was waiting, as he always seemed to be, his presence magnetic yet unnerving, like the pull of gravity before a fall. The wind caught in his hair, the strands wild and black as a crow's wing, framing his face in shadows that moved with unnatural grace. His eyes met yours, sharp and glinting with a light that didn't belong to the dying sun.

You moved toward him, your steps hesitant at first, as though crossing a threshold into another world. The air thickened with each stride, heavy with the scent of iron and something sweetly rotten, as though the flowers themselves were bleeding beneath your feet. It was a beautiful kind of wrongness, a paradox you couldn't resist, just like him.

When you were close enough to see the sharp curve of his jaw and the smudge of dirt on his cheek, you stopped. He tilted his head, a predatory motion, the corner of his mouth curving into a smile that promised both tenderness and ruin. In his hands, he cradled something wrapped in linen: the white fabric stained dark, the edges fraying as if it had been torn from something larger, more violent.

He took a step closer, and you could see his boots crushing the spider lilies beneath them, the petals breaking apart like bloodstains against the black leather. He was unstoppable, a force of nature, and he owned this moment.

"I have something for you," he said, his voice low and rough, a sound that enveloped you like smoke. He unfolded the linen slowly, deliberately, revealing what lay within. Your breath hitched, the sight arresting in its horror and grotesque beauty.

A heart.

It was heavy in his hands, its surface slick and glistening, veins still pulsing faintly as if defying the reality of its removal. Blood dripped from its edges, staining the white linen and then the ground below, mingling with the crushed petals. The sight was visceral, primal, a gift torn from life itself, and yet it didn't repulse you. It mesmerised you, much like the man holding it.

"For you," he murmured, his tone soft and reverent, as though he were offering up a piece of himself. Perhaps he was. His hands trembled, just barely, betraying the emotion he rarely let surface. "Because you are the only one who could hold it without breaking it further."

You didn't reach for it immediately. Instead, you stared at him, searching his face for some hint of cruelty, of mockery. But there was none. His expression was raw, unadorned, and unguarded. This was no joke, no twisted game. It was a declaration, a vow.

Your hands lifted instinctively, trembling as they approached the bloodied offering. When your fingers brushed against the slick surface, warm and alive, Ronin's breath caught, his chest rising sharply. His gaze never left yours, as if he were committing every second of this moment to memory.

"You always said I had no heart," he said, his voice breaking slightly, a thread of vulnerability woven into the words. "Maybe you're right. But if there's anything left of me worth giving, it's this."

The weight of the heart in your hands felt heavier than expected, the blood seeping between your fingers, warm and thick. Yet, holding it felt like claiming something ancient, something sacred. The spider lilies seemed to lean toward you, their petals trembling as though in witness.

Ronin stepped closer, his hand lifting to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. His touch was careful despite the blood smearing your skin. His eyes softened, the sharpness dulling into something warm, something achingly human. "I would give you everything," he said. "I would give you everything, even the parts of me that I don't deserve to keep."

The field held its breath, the world narrowing until you and he were alone, the bloody heart between you a bond forged in the fire of something neither of you could name. You felt tears prickling your eyes, not from sadness, but from the sheer weight of his offering, his love, his raw, unfiltered truth.

"Ronin," you breathed, his name a prayer, a promise, a plea. He leaned down, his forehead pressing gently against yours, his breath warm and steady, grounding you.

"Don't say anything," he said, his voice barely audible, trembling with restraint. "Just tell me you'll stay. That you'll take me, broken as I am."

You knew the answer without even thinking about it. It was already etched into your bones, carved into your soul by the way he had always seen you, always chosen you, even in his ruin. "I'll stay," you declared, the words a vow that spilled from your lips like blood from the heart you still held.

His eyes closed, his exhale shuddered, and you felt the tension bleed from him, the hard edges softening entirely. He took the heart from your hands, carefully and reverently, and placed it on the ground between the lilies, as if offering it back to the earth from which all life and death stemmed.

Then he turned back to you, his hands now free, and pulled you into his arms. The scent of blood and crushed flowers wrapped around you, but it was his warmth, his solidity, that anchored you. You pressed your face against his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear a comfort that no words could match.

In that field of spider lilies, under the fractured sky, the two of you stood entwined, your love forged in blood and beauty, in the spaces between life and death. You knew then that nothing, not even the weight of the world, could tear you apart.

The days have passed in a haze of preparation, a feverish yet steady march toward the moment where vows will bind your life to Ronin's in a way deeper than blood. The air itself feels different; charged with anticipation and something heavier, something ancient, as if the world understands the gravity of what you're about to promise.

The house is quiet this morning, but not still. You have been awake for hours, moving between tasks with a focus that borders on obsession. Your hands are smeared with paint, or perhaps it's dried blood from the bouquet of roses you've been trimming, their thorns biting into your fingers like tiny promises of pain. It suits the occasion. Love has always been sharp.

A dress—or suit, or something neither—hangs on the doorframe, catching the soft, pale light that filters through the window. It's simple yet striking, a reflection of you in fabric and thread. Ronin hasn't seen it yet; he'd insisted on tradition, on the sanctity of first looks being reserved for the altar. You laughed at his insistence, but there was something endearing about his stubbornness, the way his hard edges softened in the name of sentiment.

The flowers were the hardest part. Ronin wanted spider lilies, the kind that bloomed in that strange and sacred field where he first laid his heart bare to you. You returned there together, plucking the blood-red petals with reverence, your hands brushing as you worked in tandem. Now, the lilies rest in glass jars on every surface, their fiery hue setting the room ablaze with colour.

On the table before you lies a small pile of invitations you never sent. They are like ghosts of what could have been, their edges curled slightly from neglect. Neither of you has many people to invite. You told Ronin it didn't matter, that the ceremony was for the two of you alone. He nodded, his eyes shadowed but warm, and the invitations remained unfinished.

The rings rest in a carved wooden box, their metallic sheen dull in the dim light. Ronin crafted them himself, his hands working tirelessly at his workbench for weeks. You remember the way he showed them to you, his expression a mixture of pride and uncertainty, the metal still warm from his touch. "I wanted them to be ours," he'd said, his voice low and rough. "Not something anyone else could give you."

You catch sight of your reflection in the window. It's faint and ghostly. There are smudges of ash on your cheek, remnants of the incense you burned earlier. The scent of incense still lingers in the air, thick and heady, mingling with the metallic tang of the lilies and the faint trace of oil from Ronin's workbench.

He's at the shop today, fixing engines as though the world isn't about to shift beneath your feet. You imagine him there, his hands blackened with grease, his jaw set in that familiar way that tells you he's deep in thought. He has been quieter these past few days, his silences stretching longer, but not out of reluctance. His silence is like the stillness before a storm, charged with meaning he hasn't yet found the words to express.

The knife you've been using to trim the flowers rests on the counter, its blade glinting in the light. There's a beauty in its sharpness, its precision, how it transforms chaos into purpose. You think of Ronin's hands, how they are both capable of destruction and creation, how they hold you with a gentleness that belies their strength.

The evening creeps in, painting the walls with shadows. You light another candle, the flame dancing against the encroaching darkness. The preparations are almost finished, but you feel a restless longing for the man who will soon stand beside you at the altar. You wonder if he feels it too, this quiet desperation to fast-forward time, to arrive at the moment when everything will finally, irrevocably change.

You glance at the letters again, your fingers running over the uneven script of his name on the envelope you'll never send. Your heart tightens as you feel the weight of what's to come pressing against your ribs. This isn't fear. It's a recognition of the enormity of what you're about to do.

The field of spider lilies flashes in your mind: vivid and raw. You see his figure there, dark and imposing, holding out his bloody offering with trembling hands. That moment feels like a lifetime ago, yet it's the thread that ties you to this one, the unbreakable line that brought you here.

The house feels smaller now, too quiet. You reach for the bouquet, its petals soft and fragile, a stark contrast to the sharpness of the thorns. You can picture Ronin's face when he sees them at the altar, his eyes softening, his mouth curving into that rare, unguarded smile that you live for.

A knock at the door abruptly interrupts the silence. You open the door to find Ronin there. His hands are streaked with grease, his hair is dishevelled and his eyes are heavy but warm. He looks at you like you're the only thing in the world, his gaze lingering on the flowers in your hands before returning to your face.

"I thought I'd stop by," he says, his voice low and gravelly. "Make sure you're not doing too much."

You smile, stepping aside to let him in. He moves with the quiet confidence of someone who knows he belongs, his presence filling the room like the tide returning to shore. He glances at the spider lilies, the rings, the unfinished letters, and you see the tension in his shoulders ease.

He pulls you into his arms without a word, his embrace firm and grounding. You press your face against his chest, breathing in the scent of oil and smoke and something indefinably him. His heart beats steadily beneath your cheek, a quiet rhythm that anchors you.

"Are you ready for this?" he asks, his voice lowered to a whisper against your hair.

You pull back just enough to meet his gaze, your hands resting lightly on his chest. "With you?" you say, your voice steady despite the chaos in your heart. "Always."

He smiles, rare and unguarded, lighting up the shadows. In that moment, you know that no matter what lies ahead, you will face it together, bound by the sharpness of your love, the thorns and the petals intertwined.

The morning arrives in a surreal stillness, the air heavy and the light soft. The world is holding its breath for what's to come. You wake before dawn, your nerves tingling with anticipation. The small room has a strong scent of spider lilies and wood smoke, which is both grounding and disorienting. You look in the mirror. Your face is pale but steady, your eyes brighter than they should be.

Only a few are coming today—just the people who have wandered too close to the edges of your lives and found themselves drawn in. Friends is too simple a word for them. They are witnesses, chosen not for who they are but for their silence, their willingness to watch without questioning. They know better than to pry.

The ceremony is in the same field of spider lilies where Ronin gave you his heart – or what remained of it. The flowers look different today, darker somehow, their red petals nearly black under the overcast sky. The clouds above churn sluggishly, like a storm too tired to break. You arrive alone, your outfit simple but striking, chosen not for its beauty but for its weight, its presence.

Ronin is already there, standing at the makeshift altar. His figure is sharp against the sea of crimson; he is poised to cut through the air with his blade. Dressed in black, his silhouette almost blends into the shadows, except for the pale scar that runs across his jaw, a reminder of battles fought and survived. His eyes meet yours as you approach, and in them is that same mixture of softness and menace, the tenderness that exists only for you and the ferocity that would raze the earth in your name.

The officiant speaks, its words low and steady, but you barely hear them. Your eyes are on Ronin: his hands, scarred and calloused, twitching at his sides as if eager to reach for you; his breath, slow and controlled, but shallow enough to betray the storm beneath his ribs. His lips curve into a ghost of a smile as he holds your gaze, and the world around you fades into a blur of red and shadow.

When it's time to speak your vows, your voice trembles only slightly. The words you've chosen are simple but deliberate, each one a thread binding you to him. Ronin listens intently, his head tilted slightly, his expression unreadable save for the flicker of something ancient and raw in his eyes.

When it's his turn, his voice is rough, weighted with emotion he rarely shows. "You are the only thing that matters," he says, his words slow and deliberate. "The only thing that's ever mattered. I will give you everything I am, even the parts of me that are broken."

His hand reaches out, fingers brushing against yours, and for a moment, everything feels fragile and perfect, like glass balanced on the edge of a blade. You notice the others, the witnesses, who have remained silent but uneasy.

Then he moves.

It happens in a blink, faster than thought. His hand pierces your chest, his fingers slicing through fabric and flesh with the precision of a blade. The pain is immediate, searing, but it's eclipsed by the shock, the surrealness of watching his hand buried in you up to the wrist.

Your breath catches, your vision blurs, but you don't fall. His grip is firm, holding you upright even as your blood paints the front of your outfit in violent streaks of crimson. The metallic scent of blood fills the air, mingling with the spider lilies, their petals trembling as if in witness to this macabre act of devotion.

Ronin's eyes are fixed on yours. They are wide and burning with something indescribable – love, madness, reverence, all tangled together. His expression is raw, his usual hard exterior shattered, leaving only the vulnerability he shows only to you.

"You gave me yours," he whispers, his voice trembling. "Now it's my turn."

His hand withdraws slowly, and in it, cradled delicately as if it's the most precious thing in the world, is your heart. It's still beating, the rhythm weak but steady, its surface slick with blood that drips onto the ground below. The sight is grotesque, horrifying—and yet, there's a strange beauty in it, a reverence that makes your breath hitch despite the agony.

Ronin kneels, lowering your heart to the ground as though offering it to the lilies themselves. He rises, his bloodied hand reaching to cup your face, his touch impossibly gentle. You're swaying, on the verge of collapse, but he steadies you, his other arm firmly around your waist, holding you upright.

"You'll live," he says firmly, a promise and a command. "I'll make sure of it."

The crowd is silent, their faces pale and eyes wide, but they don't interfere. They know better. This is your ritual, your bond, something sacred and incomprehensible to anyone else.

Ronin presses his forehead to yours, his breath warm against your lips. His thumb traces the contours of your face, brushing away tears you didn't notice. "You're mine," he murmurs, his voice breaking. "And I'm yours. Always."

The pain fades, your body numb from the intensity of the moment. You nod, your hands clutching at his shirt as if to anchor yourself to him, to this reality. Despite the blood, the chaos and the surrealness of it all, you feel a peace settling over you, a sense of rightness.

The spider lilies lean closer, their red petals almost black, drinking in the spilled blood as though it's their lifeblood too. The air is thick with tension, as if the world itself is bearing witness to your union.

Ronin leans down and kisses you, his lips brushing yours. The taste is of copper and salt, of love and sacrifice. It's not gentle, not soft, but it's real, and it's everything.

When he pulls back, his eyes are steady, his expression fierce yet tender. "We'll finish this together," he says, his voice steady despite the storm in his eyes. "No matter what."

As the world spins around you, your blood mingling with the earth, you know he means it.

[acupofqueercoffee]

“Caught in a web, drunk on love”

Shutara Senjumaru x Reader

wc : 3100

cw : not really unrequited love // jealousy // misunderstandings // a sprinkle of drama // fluffy floofs

well what can i say. she’s so mommy and i’m a hoe for mommies so i couldn’t help it. always wanted to write something for her but i was just needing that little push which obviously her bankai gave me 😩

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Spider. A creature you have never been too big of a fan of. Those creepy crawlers with their beady eyes and fuzzy limbs are, and will always be the genesis of your nightmares. Simply the idea of the word will forever have dread burgeoning within you and ice cascading down your spine, or so you have believed. Why, then, are flowers blooming inside your chest as you watch the bane of your existence weaving a web? In other words, you are atrociously, irreversibly, positively, and utterly fucked.  

In the Soul King Palace, you are one of the less important guards under the direct command of one Shutara Senjumaru. Less important of course than the esteemed Royal Guards, but certainly on par with the strongest of shinigamis. Although there is no official title to it, your position beside your lady is an equivalent of a Lieutenant down in Seireitei.

Ever since the beginning, the divine general of the north, with her onyx hair and golden halo, eyes oozing with mesmerism, and lips a delightful red, but the most arresting of all, her spindly automatonic limbs sprouting from her back like six unworldly wings, has reminded you of a spider: one that is elegant and teeming with splendour. The lady’s introduction into your life has seeded in you a habit of conjuring up her face whenever you see or even think of your once-dreaded friends. In fact, when you think of an eight-legged crawler, you are rarely thinking of one and very much thinking of the six artificially limbed stunner. Hence, you are decisively fucked.

In pursuit of comfort, your hand, as if having a mind of its own, glide towards your waist where a knitted red charm dwells, the tassel of which dangles from the white sash of your uniform. Running delicate fingers along the intricate patterns of fine silk, your lips flourish into a smile.

From socks to scarfs and whatnots, your lady, the great weaver as her name suggests, has tailored many a thing for you. Not only has she remedied a great many holes in your battle worn uniforms, she has also graciously showered you with a miscellany of pristine garments. After all, artisanship is your lady’s forte, occurring as naturally as breathing to her, and her six hands are either sewing, knitting, embroidering or doing all three of it at the same time. She does it with such great finesse and dexterity that she may as well be carving a statue of herself out of your heart, for it worships the very ground she walks on. 

When you notice her presence, you smell it before you hear it. Delightfully floral with a touch of dark undertones, heavenly, mysterious and so undoubtedly her. 

“It was my understanding that you have a strong dislike for them, no?”

Comes the mesmerising lilt of her voice, glazed with a trickle of tease, and you smile a little, knowing smile, bringing your gaze from the spider to its human counterpart.

“I’ve steadily started finding them charming I’m afraid.” The little blossom of a smile on your lips once you search her eyes is that of softness. Your lady regards you coolly with a barely noticeable smile, drenched in enigma by her siren-eyed gaze, the caress of which is well-nigh tangible on your face. It does a quick travel to your waist, and upon finding the gift that you carry on your body since acquiring it, a hum spills forth a pair of bewitching, blood-red lips. 

“Walk with me.”

You take the hand that she offers, smooth, spindly and rather ample in size that you are only truly able to grasp two of her lithe digits. 

“With pleasure, my lady.”

“Am I allowed to wonder what exactly is the architect of your change in impression of arachnid? You of yore would flee the site if she so much as catches a glimpse of an itsy-bitsy one, I’m sure.”

You love that she remembers things about you the way you do things about her. She fancies her tea with a drizzle of honey. Not unlike a spider, she does have eight arms, the two of which are of her own flesh and blood, and because she keeps them hidden under her cloak at all times, only a handful of people have witnessed them. You have, during a visit to the hot spring in Kirinden. Nobody has given her a gift personally hand crafted by them, so when you have made for her a braided charm, a very clumsy attempt at that, she has told you that she would cherish it, and cherish it, she does. Despite it being faulty, it has found its forever home tucked safely in the red sash of her outfit, the tassel of it peeking out from under her haori with every elegant step she takes. Playful banter is her favourite pastime and it amuses her greatly that you indulge her. So once again, you do.

“You have every liberty to wonder, my lady. The decision to answer lies in my hand after all. I will say this though, it’s who rather than what.”

“My,” So she drawls in a tone that deliciously tickles your spine, and when she stops, you do too, watching as lips reveal teeth in a kittenish smile. “is that so?”

You have an inkling that to an extent, she knows of your fondness for her, evident in the way she humors you. Judging from her behaviors, she does not appear entirely opposed to it, and you might even go as far as saying that there is a good chance of her considering you should you confess.

Suddenly, a droplet touches your cheek. In the small interval of time that it takes for you to look up, your lady has expertly woven an umbrella out of thin air, all the while her one hand holds onto yours. By the time a drizzle escalates to a downpour, you are well under the protection of your lady’s masterful craft. However, your heart is going haywire, for the space between the two of you has considerably narrowed when your eyes meet. Leaning forward, a cool pad of a thumb presses a delicate kiss onto your cheek, caressing the wetness away from your face which inadvertently leaves a pink tinge in its wake. 

“Let’s call it a day, shall we?”

At your nod of approval, she adjusts her hold on you, slipping her fingers just so that your hands are intertwined together. The tips of her robotic digits easily reach your wrist, and when the cool pad of her thumb gingerly traces the hummingbird flutter of your pulse, the little creature coos inside your ribcage.

Roses are red.

The sky is blue.

And oh how you love Senjumaru. 

─────────────────  · · · · ✿

“Yoohoo Shutara, look who I found dilly-dallying around!” 

The guffaw of Hikifune jolts Senjumaru out of her bath induced reverie. Her head tilts, propped up by her fist, the dark waterfall of her hair swaying slightly as her eyes lazily search her friend.  

Think of the devil and the devil is here. 

A ghost of a smile graces her lips, for she finds you tucked under the arm of the ruler of grain. It has been a while after all since the two of you have spent time together. 

“Can you please unhand me?” More laughter ensues, louder this time, and your request is effectively nipped in the bud. Ruffling your hair, she tugs you closer to the point that you are smothered by her generous bosoms. 

“Lady Hikifune, you- you’re-”

Killing me with your breasts! You wanted to say, but instead, you are left a sputtering mess.

“My my, haven’t you bagged yourself a cutie, Shutara!”

Granted, Senjumaru would find the sweet strawberry shade on your cheeks ridiculously charming, that is, if it had been a product of her doing. Certainly not after you have just been called a cutie by a woman who has her breasts shoved into your face. 

And so, she rises with all the grace of a nymph, droplets on her body twinkling like little diamonds in the soft light. 

“Why Kirio, I thank you on behalf of my girl for escorting her to me,” Meanwhile, she has effortlessly drawn you into her arms, one of which is slithering across your waist. Alas, the little wasp has been caught in a spider’s web. “but if I do recall, you have matters to attend to, have you not? By all means, do not let us hinder you.” 

“Ugh now my mood is spoiled, thank you very much Shutara.” The divine general of the south’s voice drips with sarcasm, and that of the north replies just as sarcastically. “Of course.” 

“On another note, I smell ya later cutie!”

With a wink thrown towards your way, the cheery general is gone. 

“Wild woman.” Murmurs Senjumaru as two fingers pinch the bridge of her nose. 

You on the other hand, through the flimsy fabric of your robe, can feel her body pressing into your back; all the ridges and the valleys, every dip and dent, and lord is she so wonderfully soft. 

Suddenly, along with a ghost of a breath on the shell of your ear, her voice greets you. “Hello there, my girl.” Like a dollop of butter on a pile of warm, fluffy pancakes, you melt, all giddy and toasty inside. “Now that you’re here, could I trouble you to give my hair a wash?” 

“It’s no trouble at all. I’d be delighted to.” You do not dare turn lest your legs fail you, and in a desperate need of a moment of reprieve for your sorry little heart, you chance a glance at her. “Why don’t you go relax in the water, my lady. I’ll be right with you.”

There is a beat of silence before you feel hands on your hips and a delicate touch of lips on your nape.

“Do not keep me waiting for too long.”

The milkiness of her skin practically glows in the warm water while her luscious mane, like the finest of silks, effortlessly slips through your fingers. The urge to bury your nose in her silky smooth strands is strong, but not as strong as the urge to nuzzle your face in the exquisite beauty of a neck that is captivating you from beneath those onyx mane. Lost in a daydream, you do not realise that you have paused amidst your task until your lady turns towards you. Without so much as a warning, she pulls you into the pool. The sorry excuse of a cloth on your body gives way to water, and you mirror your lady in that you are now thoroughly soaked and bare. 

Her gaze roams, and you notice the exact moment that the warm mischievous glint in her eyes goes glacial. She has seen your body, or rather the marks peppered across your neck and chest in varying shades of red. Her face is unreadable, the very picture of aloofness, and although it stings, although it seems as if a chasm has suddenly appeared between the two of you, you try to bridge it, take a step, an olive branch of sorts. It is your darkest nightmare comes true however when she avoids the hand that reaches for her, a look of, dare you say, disgust etched onto her face, and without so much as a word, she takes leave.

What have you done wrong, you do not understand.

All you know is that you feel discarded as though you are but a stale meal.

─────────────────  · · · · ✿

To have been branded by this enchantress of a woman and afterwards carry the very traces of herself on your body, even with a good chance that she will no longer have any recollection of your little moment together, has filled you with bliss as much as having her mouth on your flesh did. 

Although her mien has betrayed nothing and she was the very picture of poise, you knew she was drunk as soon as endearments fell freely from her lips. “My darling sweetheart” so she has called you, and you have been too naive, too lovesick to believe that, albeit being under the influence of liquor, she has peppered you with kisses while thinking of you, while still being aware that it was on your body that she was leaving her traces. Alas, it has never crossed your mind that you would turn out to be a cheap substitute for the one she truly desires.

“Oi oi Lady Senjumaru has brought a girl to her palace.” 

When you have heard such murmurs amongst the guards, as selfish as it is, you were hoping it to be a falsehood.

Your little glimmer of a hope is crushed into smithereens once you are summoned to her chambers only to have your heart join the pile of dust on the ground. Nestled in your lady’s arms like a baby bird, a naked girl mewls and trembles whilst red lips leave messy kisses along her jaw and down the length of her neck.

The spider is making a show of devouring its prey, but instead of fear, you fall victim to pain, oh wretched, unforgiving pain. She is being deliberately cruel because ultimately, you are an audience to this play only due to her invitation.

“My darling little sweetheart.” And you watch, drenched in melancholy, as your lady savours the lips of someone who is not you.

Oh. 

“You.” Comes the voice, indifferent unlike the loving coo that was just uttered to the girl cradled close to her chest. “I want you to tidy up my place while I take my darling home.”

Oh. 

A nod, or rather, a bow is all you can manage so as not to bare your features that is now marred with an endless cascade of tears.

─────────────────  · · · · ✿

Peeved would be a horrible understatement. It does not bode well with Senjumaru that while you were all she could think about, you had been cosying up to another, who, for all she knows, could have been one of her friends. Judging from the little display the other day, it could very well have been Kirio. How laughable she must have appeared, being all overly defensive for naught. 

She admits however that she was unnecessarily cruel with her reaction, and that her little act of revenge was childish at best. Essentially, she has only herself to blame, misinterpreting your innocent admiration for her to be something else, something sacred. And now, with that calloused display of hers, she might have even ruined the bond that the two of you have shared. 

No matter how she reasons with herself, it still perturbs her after all, and once again, something ugly rears its head when she finds more of those lingering hickeys on your body while she crosses paths with you in Kirinden. 

Good and evil play a tug of war, and evil emerges victorious.

“Back from another fun, I presume?”

“Why do you care?”

“My, what gives you the impression that I do? I’m merely curious which one of my comrades’ bed one of my guards is diligently warming every night.”

“Curiosity kills the cat, Lady Senjumaru.”

Rising out of the pool like a predator on a hunt, she corners her prey. Whereas her spindly arms manipulate you so that you are facing away from her and then, trap you against the wall, her two hands find home in the dip of your hips, pulling you until your back fits into the curve of her body.

“And oh does it pounce!” Growls the hunter as lips find your nape, teeth bestowing bruises and tongue soothing stings, all the while you shake like a leaf in her bodily confine.

Her hands wander over to your ribcage, holding you there, thumbing the soft underside of your breasts. It has your back curving into her body.

“Swift work is my biggest selling point, you understand. Do not underestimate the name of Senjumaru.” The sinking of her teeth directly into the throbbing vein on your neck triggers your fingers to dig into the flesh of her thigh. “Shu- ngh- Shutara.”

Senjumaru remembers a dream, an all too tantalising dream. In it, her charming little prey was deliciously caught in her web, and the great weaver has taken her sweet time savouring the delectable creature. What a divine little thing her prey was, squirming in her grasp and panting her name, ambrosia to her ears, while her mouth has mapped as many inches of skin as she could manage, committing everything to memory. It stays with her even when dawn breaks, except that, the dream she had was all but a dream, eluded Senjumaru. 

Amidst her arm twining round your chest, she hears it, a broken little sound that is but a tiny whisper. 

“Why are you doing this to me?”

The lady turns you in her arms. With gentle fingers, she tucks a few wayward strands behind your ears to reveal more of her colourful works, which she gingerly traces with a delicate digit. 

“These were my doing.” It is not a query, merely a statement.

“I understand that you have mistaken me for someone else.” You release a sigh, eyes slipping shut when a thumb presses onto a particularly sore spot. “So please, just let me be.”

“Is that what you want of me? To let you be?”

“What I want doesn’t matter.”

“Why doesn’t it matter?” Your attempt to flee from her gaze is effectively put to an end by a hand cradling your jaw. Mindlessly, a thumb bestows soft caresses to the apple of your cheek. “Answer me.”

“It just doesn’t, alright? Because I’m not- I’m not what you want.” When you look into her eyes, she finds in yours the first dew of tears, and before they could escalate into a cloudburst, she pulls you into her six-armed embrace, your face safely tucked into the nook of her neck. Along with a soft lingering press of a kiss atop your temple, she breathes her words into your skin. “Though I have a penchant for darning, it seems I’m superb at tearing the one thing I want perfectly weaved.”

“I hate you, my lady.” By the way your hands are fisting into her flesh as though your life depends on it, she begs to differ, though she only indulges you, a ghost of a smile hanging loosely on her lips. “Do you now?”

“Very much so. I hate that I love you.”

“Oh, but my dearest, how I love that you love me.”

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

[hldailyupdate]

The Unlikely Lads: How Pete Doherty, Louis Tomlinson and Noel Gallagher teamed up for rising star Andrew Cushin

Not much can unite an Oasis brother, a One Directioner, and an erstwhile Babyshambler – but Andrew Cushin has done just that. Mark Beaumont speaks to the singer and his A-list backers about what they see in this Geordie ‘destined for great things’

Maybe once in a generation, the stars align: barriers crumble and the pop lamb lies down with the indie rock jackal. Kylie Minogue and Nick Cave. Miley Cyrus and The Flaming Lips. And now, Louis Tomlinson and Pete (now Peter) Doherty: united not on record, but to co-release the debut album by 23-year-old Andrew Cushin, a little-known Newcastle troubadour with a gift for mesmerising superstars – from all walks, evidently.

There’s no other explanation for a story that reads like A Star is Bornmeets Pygmalion, with a dash of The Karate Kid – on a hefty fried breakfast – thrown in. One whiff of Cushin’s early live footage and Noel Gallagher was producing his songs. A glimpse of him playing on Soccer AM and Tomlinson swept him away around the world on tour. Brief exposure to his onstage performance and Doherty was clamouring to release his debut album alongside Tomlinson, in what has become a hands-across-the-cultural-ocean collaboration. Forget “right place, right time”, Cushin is the right place and his time is clearly now.

“It’s all happened very much by chance,” this Geordie Maharishi self-deprecates down the phone from an airport midway through his 36 dates supporting Tomlinson on a tour that’s taken him across the UK, Europe and America. In several weeks his album, Waiting For The Rain, will come close to breaking the Top 40, partly down to such support from big-name mentors, partly thanks to an arresting talent set to bewitch a generation. “There’s a lot of acts that gig for three or four years and then they get discovered,” he says. “We were the opposite – you’re going out on this tour, but you’ve already got these big names behind you, you’ve just got to go and learn now. It’s been like an apprenticeship in music.”

Luck, Cushin’s celebrity backers will attest, had very little to do with it. “The songs are great,” Tomlinson tells me. “They’re super honest, super real. The lyrics cut deep, some of them, and I think that’s really brave as a new songwriter.” Doherty agrees. “It was the weight of what he was singing about, that was the first thing that grabbed me,” the Libertines rocker says. “The emotional weight of his songs and also the strength of his voice.”

Hard-earned traits, it transpires. In the wake of his father’s death, a then 18-year-old Cushin began pouring his anguish and survival instinct into rock-leaning singer-songwriting of brutal honesty and stirring redemption. If “Just Like You’d Want Me To” was an open letter to his father about his determination to overcome his grief and forge on to glory, the glowering “4.5%” was a devastating portrait of the effect his dad’s alcoholism had on the family. “By 12, he’s falling down the stairs, by one he’s claiming no one cares,” Cushin sings over plaintive piano and a faded heartbeat, “each drink, it drowns your son and daughter”.

“I wrote that three days after he passed away, out of such horrible emotions of losing a parent and not being able to speak to anybody,” Cushin says of what he calls his “therapy song”. “Sometimes it is hard for me to sing because it does bring me back to that place. But at the same time I’ve played that song so many times now and it’s amazing how many people come forward and can relate to it. Anybody who goes through having a parent who’s alcoholic or a friend who’s alcoholic, they all have similar stories and feelings about things that go on. If somebody knows someone who’s an alcoholic, they’ll know what I went through and vice versa.”

Cushin set about playing his songs around the pubs of Newcastle. Within three weeks he had secured a manager with links to Noel Gallagher who, in turn, put Cushin in touch with promoters and labels after being emailed a video clip of a live show. “When I was growing up my heroes were Noel and Weller and basically everything that my dad used to listen to,” Cushin says. “So to be doing music for about three weeks and to have an email from Noel and him to help us out with promoters and that, it was an insane three or four weeks. I hadn’t even played a gig outside of Newcastle at that point.”

Gallagher produced, sang backing vocals and played guitar on Cushin’s 2020 track “Where’s My Family Gone”, a raw dissection of familial conflict and the third and final single Cushin released on Virgin before his deal collapsed and gigs dried up during the pandemic. Cushin took Gallagher’s parting advice to heart, though. “He told us to graft,” he told NME in 2020. “He just said keep your head down, work hard and write, write, write. That’s what I’ll do.”

Constructing his album during the Covid downtime, Cushin swiftly bounced back, blessed from pop’s Mount Olympus. At his first post-lockdown shows, supporting Doherty solo for three dates, he found the Libertines singer side of stage each night, increasingly enthused by his performances. “I got about two songs in and I looked to my left and he was stood at the side of the stage kinda clapping away,” Cushin recalls. Doherty, having launched his own label Strap-Originals, enquired if he was signed. “I went, ‘No, no, we’ve just been released’, he went ‘Let’s see if we can do something’. Second night it was ‘We definitely need to do something’ and by the third night, he was all for it. Within four or five weeks we had a full album deal on the table.”

As the deal progressed, Doherty took Cushin on UK tours, drinking and jamming together on the road. Although, from the sound of it, touring with the now reputedly drug-free Doherty is no longer the class-A bacchanal of old. “I wouldn’t necessarily say [the tours were] wild,” Cushin claims, “Peter is getting on a little bit now, he’s a little bit older.” Then, last October, a fateful performance on Soccer AM mesmerised another high-profile supporter of the six-stringed arts.

“I just thought Andrew came across really f***ing confident,” says Tomlinson, who messaged Cushin on Twitter after the show to offer him a support slot at Shepherd’s Bush Empire. That show turned into 36 support dates across the world. “A lot of my fans will know that I’ve always been interested in new music and people on the up and however else I can offer a bit of advice or help. And if he’s already got the songwriting prowess that he’s got at this age on his debut album, the kid’s destined for great things. He came out on the American tour and he was mostly acoustic for a lot of it and that’s a real tough gig, just you and a guitar. But his voice is f***ing huge, a really big sounding voice. He really came into his own as a singer but also as a performer.”

As curator of his own The Away From Home indie rock festival in Italy, where he headlined alongside acts such as Blossoms and The Cribs this August, Tomlinson confesses to having been One Direction’s secret guitar rock fanatic. “It’s what I grew up listening to,” he says. “There was this really good indie bar in Doncaster where I grew up. It was 10 quid all you could drink. It lasted about 18 months and then the council banned it, but it was f***ing incredible. So that’s where I got into all that indie guitar music and stuff like that. To be honest, I kinda dumbed that down a little bit when I was in the band, obviously, because it was a very different thing, One Direction. So I think as I’ve gone out on my own it’s been about re-finding my roots and guitar music is something that has had a massive influence on my life.”

To this end, Tomlinson hopes to convert his more pop-inclined fans to the ways of the distortion pedal, bed hair and fourth-day jeans. “What’s fascinating to me is watching my fanbase watching [guitar bands], listening to this music and taking a real passion like I do. That makes me really proud.” And also, from a talent show phenomenon who’d otherwise have wanted to become a teacher or sports coach, a touch of popstar payback.

‘If I’m feeling down or if I’m in a bad way my therapy is the guitar’ 

Tomlinson’s 78 Productions teaming up with Doherty’s Strap-Originals label, then, isn’t quite the clash of cultural opposites it first appears. “Look at some of the great labels,” Doherty argues. “Look at The Sex Pistols with Malcolm McLaren getting together with Richard Branson. Over the years, labels’ main aim was to be a springboard for their artists to get as many people to hear the music they believe in. Whatever that takes – if that means having a major label take you up the alley for five minutes I will do that for my artists any day of the week.”

“Obviously I was a massive Libertines fan growing up,” says Tomlinson of his grungier counterpart. “It’s an honour to me. I really look up to [Doherty] as a songwriter, as a poet, as a creative in general. And I also know that he’s got Andrew’s best interests at heart, which is not something you can always say in these kinds of joint ventures.” The pair haven’t yet met to thrash out the details over a power fry-up, though. “There’s not been a lot of back and forth,” says Tomlinson, “We’re both busy guys. I’d love to sit down and have a chat with him, definitely. That sounds like the kind of business meeting I’d want to turn up to.”

It’s something of a fairytale ending for Cushin, and his Dave Eringa-produced album that is so fraught with struggle. Alongside celebratory Britpopian terrace anthems like “Wor Flags” and orchestral pop uplifts like “Dream for a Moment”, grimy soul rocker “Let Me Give It To You” tackles drug abuse, while the fatalistic “The End” envisions Cushin’s own funeral, complete with child choir singing: “It’s the end of everything and I didn’t mean a thing.” And, on “You’ll Be Free”, he confronts the sometimes-fatal consequences of men being expected to bottle up their pain.

“Suicide is something I hold very, very close to my chest, unfortunately,” Cushin says of the song. “I’ve lost the most important people in my life to suicide. Everybody coming through with their support for different organisations has been amazing but, for me, I can’t go and talk to someone. If I’m feeling down or if I’m in a bad way my therapy is the guitar.”

There’s something deeply heartening, then, about seeing Cushin so enthusiastically grasp the A-list opportunities flung in his path. “We were over the moon when both Louis and Peter both came together,” he says. “It’s such a dream thing for me to be in the middle, releasing a record through these two unbelievable artists. We’ve already done so much so quickly and we’re in a massive whirlwind of people just pushing and pushing.” Cushin may be the celebrity-coveted Bored Ape NFT of singer-songwriters, but his value is set to rocket.

[nayeonie99]

Nayeon x Sana / Cam Girl

Nayeon's POV

"Mmm". I heard from the speakers of my laptop. My hand was moving up and down my cock.

"You like watching me?". The cam girl gasped out while she was sliding two fingers in and out of her pussy.

Her fingers were glistening with her wetness.

"Fuck". I gasped out and started pumping faster. If you believe it or not, it was coincidence that I got onto her page.

I mean I'm a perv I won't deny that, but I'm not that much of a perv to watch some strangers fuck themselves on the internet in front of other strangers.

But this girl, which I've never even seen the face of, was just mesmerising to me.

Her voice especially.

She let out another moan and started to play with her nipples. I had to bite my lip while I was still pumping my hand up and down on my dick.

"I wish you could fuck me right now". She cried out and spanked her pussy.

I mean, everyone else watching right now felt probably exactly like I did in this moment. Totally turned on and desperate for her touch.

She gave you a feeling of being something special and that she is only doing this for you. Maybe that's why she was mesmerising me so much.

"Let's cum together". She rasped out and after a few seconds she reached her climax and so did I.

"Fuck, that was good. I hope you enjoyed it as much a I did. See you next time". She said and waved into the camera.

I was left staring at the screen on my laptop. My cum still sticking onto my stomach. I grabbed some tissues from my nightstand and cleaned everything up.

I was getting ready for bed when I heard my phone ringing. I picked it up and saw my best friend calling me.

"What do you want?". I asked and put her on speaker while I was putting moisturiser on my face.

"Hello to you to". She responded and I could literally hear her eyes rolling.

"Don't roll your eyes at me". I said.

"How did yo- Nevermind, I just called to ask if you wanna hang out".

"Sana, it's almost midnight".

"Please?". She asked with her cute voice.

I let out a sigh.

"Fine, but you come over. I already got ready for bed".

"Okay I'll be at your place in like 15 minutes".

"Alright". I said and hang up.

While I was laying on my bed waiting for her, I heard a knock on my door.

"Finally". I said when I opened the door and saw her smiling at me already.

"Aww did you miss me so much?". She asked sarcastically. I playfully glared at her and she smiled even more.

"So why did you wanted to meet?".

"What? I can't see my best friend ?".

"Yes you can. I just wondered because it's so late already".

"I just wanted to hang out a bit. Watch some movies, eat some snacks you know?". She said and sat down on my king sized bed.

"And I love your bed". She sighed and laid down on her back, lifting her arms up her head which made her shirt slide up a bit. I automatically stared at her exposed skin.

"Y-Yeah okay umm well, you can choose a movie already. I'll make us some snacks".

"Yeah okay". She said and I walked into my kitchen to put some snacks in the bowl.

When I came back into my room she was just staring at the screen of my laptop.

"So have you found something?". I asked and placed the bowl down on my nightstand.

I turned the laptop to the side so I can see, but when I saw what she was looking at I felt my whole face starting to burn with embarrassment.

"Omg this is so embarrassing, holy shit". I rambled and quickly closed the page where I was watching the cam girls live earlier.

"You watch cam girls?". She smirked and stared at me.

"I'm definitely not going to talk with you about that". I mumbled.

"Why not? It's nothing forbidden. It's not like you can get arrested for this". She said and giggled. I just glared at her and she stared at me.

"So...tell me. What do you like about cam girls ?".

"I don't watch cam girls. Only this one". I said and blushed even more.

"Why only this girl? Is there something you like about her? Have you watched other girls as well?".

"Why are you so interested in this?".

"Just tell me". She said impatiently.

"Jeez okay. I just like this one. I tried watching other girls as well, to see if I was just being weird or whatever. But this girl has something that mesmerises me. You know what's funny?". I asked and she just kept staring at me.

"I never saw her face but I feel like she is such a beautiful woman. I feel close to her, I don't know, it probably sounds weird to you...". I said and fiddled with my fingers.

"Why do you like her so much?". She asked and her voice turned a little raspier.

"I like the way she talks to me, the way she makes you feel like it's only the both of you right now and not like thousands of other people watching. Or the way she touches herself, so soft and gentle like she would break any second. But what I like the most about her is her voice". I said.

"Her voice?". She asked and I nodded my head.

"How come?".

"I don't know. I just love how her breath hitches when she hits this specific spot when she touches herself. Or when she tries to say something but it gets caught in her throat because she is too turned on to build full sentences".

"Sounds like you really like her". She said and I saw how she pressed her thighs together.

"Mhm". I hummed and she bit her lip.

"Have you ever thought about how she would look like?". She asked.

"No not really. But I just know that's she's beautiful. She has to be".

"Have you fucked yourself earlier watching her?".

"W-Why should I tell you?". I stuttered out and she smirked.

"So you did?". I blushed once again.

"What if you would meet the girl in person? What would you do?".

"Let's be honest here. I don't even know what she looks like, neither her name or where she's from. So I will definitely not meet her".

"But what if. What if you know her? What would you do?".

"I don't know. I've never thought about it".

"Would you fuck her?". She asked.

"I mean...I jerk off by imagining fucking her, sooo...yeah probably".

"It's actually really hot, knowing you jerk off by watching me". She said and slid her hand up my leg.

"Hahahaha yeah-Wait what?!". I asked shocked and stared at her with wide eyes.

"The cam girl. That's me actually". She said and smirked at me.

"Stop Sana, that's not funny". I said and pushed her hand off my leg. She sighed and stood up from the bed. I just stared at her with pink cheeks. She started taking her shirt off and my eyes widened.

"W-What are you doing? Are you crazy?". I said and stood up. She came closer and slid her hands under my shirt which made me gasp.

"Since you don't believe me by words, maybe you believe me when I show you". She pushed me down on my bed so I'm sitting on it.

"Now be quiet and watch me". She whispered in my ear and it made my whole body shiver. The next thing she took off was her black bra. Her boobs were perfect. I felt my cock starting to get hard, I couldn't take my eyes off her.

"You know...". She began and started unbuttoning her pants.

"The way you talked about me made me so wet". She said and I had to bite my lip.

She kicked her pants somewhere in my room and the only thing she was wearing now was her black thong.

"Do you recognise me now? My body?". She asked and climbed onto my lap. I couldn't find my voice, it's like the words were stuck in my throat.

"What? Cat got your tongue?". She asked with a smirk on her lips. I just nodded my head, which made her grin.

"You know you can touch me, right?". She asked and slid her hands behind my neck.

"You can actually do anything you want with me tonight. Everything you pictured while you were fucking yourself every time you watched me". She said.

"Anything?". I asked.

"Well look at that. She can speak". She said and smirked again.

"Shut up". I said and had to grin.

"Make me". She whispered in my ear and kissed the space under my earlobe. I turned us around and pushed her against my pillows, so her head is rested on them. I wanted to quickly take off my shirt but she stopped me.

"No, I want to watch you this time. Take your clothes off but slowly". She said.

I did what she told me and started lifting up my shirt. Since I didn't thought someone would still visit me this late I wasn't wearing a bra. So when I took my shirt completely off she was met with my bare chest.

I looked at her and the look she gave me made me even harder. I slid my fingers into the waistband of my sweatpants and boxers so I could pull them off in one tug.

My cock hit my stomach and I threw my clothes on the ground. I was completely naked now.

"Come here". She rasped out and her voice was just so sexy. I crawled towards her and hovered right over her face. She pulled me down so our chests were completely pressed together. My cock was sliding over her clothed pussy.

She grabbed my chin between her fingers so I was looking straight into her eyes.

"Kiss me". She breathed out and I leaned down to press our lips together. Her lips were so soft and fitted perfectly with mine. I gasped into the kiss when her hand wrapped around my cock. She sucked my tongue into her mouth and started pumping her hand up and down. I bit her bottom lip with my teeth and let it go.

I kissed down her jawline and neck, then took one nipple in my mouth and she let out a quiet gasp. I took her hand off my cock and pushed both of her wrists above her head.

"Don't move your hands". I said and she bit her lip while nodding her head.

"Good girl". I said and pecked her lips once more. I kneeled in front of her and slid my fingers under the waistband of her thong, to pull it down her long legs. She instantly spread her legs for me, which made me bite my lip as well. I leaned down on my chest and parted her legs even more with my hands.

"Fuck, you're so wet already". I groaned and parted her slick lips with my thumbs.

"Shit". She hummed out and bucked her hips up a little bit.

"Please". She begged.

"Please what?". I asked her teasingly and started kissing the insides of her thighs.

"Just do something". She said.

"I am". I said with a smirk on my lips.

"Eat me out". She said while staring directly into my eyes. With that said I dived right in.

"Oh my god". She gasped and clenched her hands into my hair. I told her to not move her hands, but honestly I didn't care anymore.

I just wanted her.

I sucked her clit in my mouth and slid my hands up her chest to grab both of her boobs.

"Fuck, this feels so good, please don't stop". She moaned out and started fucking herself against my tongue.

I started humming which made her feel even better and after a few seconds she came for the first time.

"Holy shit". She gasped out, her chest lifting up and down heavily. I kissed from her stomach up to her lips, to give her a kiss.

"My turn". She breathed out against my lips and pushed me down so I'm laying down. She grabbed my chin into her hand, kissing me again.

"Mmm, you taste like me". She said and kissed me again. My arms wrapped around her waist to keep her close.

"I can't wait to feel your cock inside of me. I had a feeling that you were big, but to be honest, I've never had a cock this big".

I had to smirk and she smirked back at me.

"I've never had someone who tasted this good". I whispered in her ear and felt her shiver.

"You make me so wet". She groaned out.

"Let me fuck you baby". I said and she bit her lip.

"Can you call me that again?". She asked and pushed me down again.

"Baby?". I asked and she nodded her head with a slight blush on her cheeks. I pulled her down for another kiss.

"Ride me baby". I breathed out against her lips and she nodded.

She slid the tip of my cock through her pussy, coating it with her wetness and then sank completely down on it.

"Mmm fuck, no one ever took me so well". I moaned out and grabbed her hips into my hands. She placed her hands on my stomach and started moving on top of me.

"Omg babe". She moaned out and threw her head back. I slid my hand up her neck to choke her. With my other hand I slid down between her legs to play with her clit.

"Fuck yes". She choked out and I started meeting her thrust.

"God damn". I moaned out because she got tighter with every thrust. I wrapped my arms around her waist and she pressed her head in the crook of my neck, moaning right into my ear.

"Does it feel good baby?". I asked and spanked her ass. She gasped out and nodded her head.

"Use your words. Let me hear you baby".

"Yes it feels more than good". She moaned out and clenched her hand into my hair.

"Are you close?". I asked and spanked her again.

"Y-Yes". She shakily moaned out.

"Cum for me baby. Cum all over my cock". I said and grabbed her ass into my hands, pounding into her so our skin was slapping together.

"Fuck Nayeon". She moaned out and climaxed the second time this night.

"Cum inside of me please". She said and sat up staring at me.

"I want to feel your cum inside of me, filling me up". She moaned out and with that said I couldn't hold back any longer and came inside of her. I pulled out of her and saw my cum leaking out of her pussy.

"How about we take a shower?". I asked her and she looked at me with pink cheeks. I stood up from my bed and turned around to look at her.

"Are you coming?". I asked.

"I already did babe". She said and winked at me. This time I was the one blushing.

"I-I can't stand up right now". She mumbled.

"How come?". I asked and smirked.

"Yah, stop teasing me". She said and let out a cute whine.

"Come here". I said and she crawled to the edge of the bed. I picked her up and carried her into my bathroom. We showered together and washed each other. I gave her some clothes of mine.

"You look really good in my clothes". I said and wrapped my arms around her waist.

"Yeah?". She asked and wrapped her arms around my neck.

"Mhm". I hummed and pecked her lips.

"So do you want to watch a movie now? Or do you want to sleep? We didn't really got to watching a movie after all". She asked and smirked at me.

"A movie sounds good". I said and she pecked my lips again. She grabbed my hand and walked with me to my bed.

And for some weird reason my heart hasn't stopped pounding since my phone rang and her name was showing on my display.

[seekers-who-are-lovers]

The music in “Yatagarasu”

This particular piece is playing when Yukiya gets to witness Wakamiya’s power as the latter shoots his arrows. What follows is a beautiful movement coming from the olive green branches of sprouting wisteria flowers under the moonlight. Yukiya is mesmerised, who cannot believe what he has seen and is finding out another side of his master that is completely unknown to him. Yukiya thought Wakamiya was spending his time in frivolous matters when he was not at the Sunrise Palace. On that day he realised he might have mistaken. Most of all, his memories started to resurface though not fully. (Though, I admit that I find mangaka Natsumi Matsuzaki’s interpretation of Yukiya’s déjà vu more arresting to the senses as she showed us what happened the first time Yukiya and Wakamiya met.)

It is the strength of the orchestra melding together with the crispness of the arrow’s tip hitting a glasslike surface of the tears into the void as if one hits a mirror and hearing it crystal clear. The violin, woodwind instruments, the soft and subtle choir in the background that could symbolise the wisteria, these fantastical natural beauties, blooming with all their might at nighttime in a lightning speed (which my gifs cannot justify the elegance of the scenes).

A pity that the album only contains music pieces from episodes 1 to 13. On the 16th episode where the excerpt above is playing, Mr. Segawa said, when asked about the music for the second arc:

I’d love to say yes, but it’s a bit more complicated than that. I’m writing new cues for each episode to perfectly match the direction of every scene, and I’m still working on it. Unfortunately, I don’t have control over when the OST gets released, so we decided to include music from episodes 1 to 13 in the OST. ( x )

Apart from the aforementioned track above, another example that has fallen off the radar from many viewers is the clever interplaying of two themes at the tail end of Episode 13 when we were about to enter the second arc.

Scene 1: Yukiya, Sumio and Wakamiya at the Palace’s stable (background music: gentle, peaceful guitar notes signalling Yukiya’s return to his province, to normalcy, who is honest with Wakamiya about the reason he does not want to continue to be his aide anymore. Nazukihiko, on the other hand, even stops Sumio from interrupting bc he wants to know Yukiya’s feelings)

Scene 2: Struggling to escape, a young woman desperately crying her heart out face to face with the horror as the monster poised to devour her whole (background effects: a menacing sound coming from the pits of a cave and the dreadful pair of heavy-set feet stomping that belonged to a dangerous creature, it sounds like a waterphone playing or the risset horror sound effect from a violin)

Soundtracks can be either hit or miss. Last year, Yuma Yamaguchi’s “Undead Girl Murder Farce” soundtrack was my album of the year. So far, Eishi Segawa’s compositions, which add colour and nuance to the scenes tremendously, are solid and very engaging. Time will tell if the album will be a personal fave this year.

Preorders are now open via Amazon Japan. That is if you are interested. I can’t wait to listen to it in its entirety!

[livelaughlovesubs]

Thoughts on Glasyalabolas? I couldn't match his freak he weirded me out for a while but he's starting to grow on me now

Who’s gonna match my freak 😶 who’s gonna match my freak 😍

I still think necrophilia is scary but ig we don’t kink shame. Like having fantasies is fine…? No one’s gonna arrest you for your sexual fantasies, even if they are testing the moral boundaries.

I keep calling him Galapagos isle cuz I couldn’t mesmerise his name for a long time, and I mean, he’s kinda funny. Also the way he satisfies his Philia is pretty safe so, I ain’t got anything against that guy. I don’t find him particularly eye catching though, he looks like any other npc to me lmao

[justforbooks]

Hum by Helen Phillips review

This thoughtful novel about a family trying to breathe clean air and not spend too long on their devices is mesmerising and scary

May loses her office job when the “hums” – humanoid robots – render her role obsolete. It’s hard to find work again. She hears of an opportunity to earn several months’ salary by receiving an experimental facial injection, and takes it. The injection will render May’s face unrecognisable to the ubiquitous hums. She’s a guinea pig for a form of adversarial AI, a technology designed to confound the processing of other tech. She returns home in pain, and looking very subtly different. “It’s really OK,” says her husband, Jem. “I just have a slightly new wife.”

Life is not easy for May and Jem and their two young children, Lu and Sy. Jem, formerly a photographer, takes gig work via an app, doing the odd jobs that rich people don’t want to do: removing corpses from pest traps, or clearing rotting food from a fridge. The air in their city is poisonous and the tap water is tainted. Rubbish blows around; birds, plants and animals are traumatised, shrivelled or extinct. May, Jem, Lu and Sy are all addicted to their devices, spending long periods alone in their individual “wooms”: networked isolation chambers, like a smartphone you can crawl inside.

Hum is Helen Phillips’s sixth book and third speculative novel. Her first, The Beautiful Bureaucrat, was praised by Ursula Le Guin, and her second, The Need, was shortlisted for a US National Book award. The novels are conceptual, dealing with big data and paleobotany, but they have a thriller-like intensity. Hum induces a nervous wariness that comes in part from the disturbing events May reads about in the news. “According to a new survey, more humans had experienced intense negative emotions in the past calendar year than at any other time in recorded history.” A woman is arrested for hiding needles inside strawberries on shop shelves. “Five hundred million plastic bottles are discarded in your city each year!” An orca carries the corpse of her calf, pushing it before her or holding its tail in her mouth, for 10 days.

These news headlines, scattered through the novel, contribute to Hum’s world building, enveloping May in an unsettling atmosphere. At the back of the book, references disclose that they are all true stories or events that Phillips has lightly rewritten. Her depiction of a conventional family struggling to pay the bills and breathe clean air, and trying not to pass too much of their lives on their devices, is also painful and familiar.

The real world is present in May’s gruelling life, its exploitative systems and the distressed environment that she longs to escape. When she receives payment for her injection, she immediately overspends on a family holiday to the Botanical Garden, a forested area walled off behind the city. Soon after they arrive in the garden, something disastrous happens. The crisis that unfolds fuses several different contemporary predicaments: online shaming, the stranglehold of tech corporations, and the bewildering proliferation of surveillance, which can both cause and resolve an emergency.

Hum has a convincing quality of understatement: it is gripping, but its plot doesn’t abide by the spikes and crescendos that the dystopian setup led me to anticipate. There is no dramatic or bloody confrontation. The stakes rise and then somewhat recede. It’s a thoughtful and graceful novel, not very long, told in short chapters, with an offhand turn of phrase that immerses us in May’s threatening environment, and just occasionally permits a glimpse of the richer world she craves: clean air and water, the smell of cedar, or the “quartet of cardinals” her mother sees one day, “such a red”.

There is a crucial scene in which a hum uses a screen on its abdomen to show May and her family images of their potential futures, created using their extant data. It’s a turning point and also a moment of provocation, reminding the reader how the many recent films and novels set in disastrous near-futures can collectively be seen as a kind of forecast: frightening but not implausible. Many of these stories propose extreme and terrifying scenarios of apocalypse or cruelty. Hum, instead, is poised between speculation and reportage. It’s mesmerising and scary.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[thumbbeforefingermusicaltaste]

My Dark Disquiet

By Poets of the Fall

LYRICS

Night, the world, it's mine, with nobody else out here It's time, run wild and royally cavalier To burn, ignite, I'd do it for so much less When all is made clear there is nothing else

And here we stand, the sweet arresting duality And I come to, it's resin all over me Will I awake, will I get a ride with you In this race of two

We're an endless stream of choices We're the softest murmur of voices

Without names we're fantasising Dancing like flames, mesmerising My dark disquiet playing such eerie harmonies

Making waves and diving under Lightning to the sound of thunder My dark disquiet singing such haunting melodies

So white, so still, so bright, it's almost too painful now I'm ready to fight, to run from the light

And here now comes the sweet corrupting reality While now I'm free, will I once cease to be Will I awake, will I get a ride with you In this race of two

We are momentary masters We're false kings and bastards

Without names we're fantasising…

We are marionettes by strings animated Yet like lovers of strings liberated

Without names we're fantasising…

Brothers by blood separated Marionettes animated Lovers of strings liberated

[meaeris]

this is the perfect song for sebastian and i won't accept any criticism

Night, the world, it's mine, with nobody else out here

It's time, run wild and royally cavalier

To burn, ignite, I'd do it for so much less

When all is made clear there is nothing else

And here we stand, the sweet arresting duality

And I come to, it's resin all over me

Will I awake, will I get a ride with you

In this race of two

We're an endless stream of choices

We're the softest murmur of voices

Without names we're fantasising

Dancing like flames, mesmerising

My dark disquiet playing such eerie harmonies

Making waves and diving under

Lightning to the sound of thunder

My dark disquiet singing such haunting melodies

So white, so still, so bright, it's almost too painful now

I'm ready to fight, to run from the light

And here now comes the sweet corrupting reality

While now I'm free, will I once cease to be

Will I awake, will I get a ride with you

In this race of two

We are momentary masters

We're false kings and bastards

Without names we're fantasising

We are marionettes by strings animated

Yet like lovers of strings liberated

Without names we're fantasising

Brothers by blood separated

Marionettes animated

Lovers of strings liberated

[themanipulatedimage-serenat]

Photo Manipulators Inspo for concept 'Artificial Oddities'

'Headspace' Full Screen Gallery – Leah Johnston. (n.d.). https://leahjohnston.com/lens_gallery/photography

Leah Johnston is a pioneering artist renowned for her innovative approach to photography manipulation. Her work seamlessly blends digital techniques with traditional photography, transforming everyday scenes into surreal and imaginative realms. Johnston's skillful manipulation of light, color, and texture creates otherworldly visuals that challenge perceptions and invite viewers to explore new dimensions of reality. Each piece is meticulously crafted, reflecting her deep understanding of both photographic art and digital possibilities. Her unique vision and technical prowess result in a striking portfolio that pushes the boundaries of conventional photography, offering a fresh, visually arresting perspective on the world. Going through her work, this image really stuck out to me as the concept I'm leaning towards is ''things that aren't real but fake" to put it into simple terms 'Artificial Oddities' and this image resonates with the theme I'm wanting to pursue.

Another photo manipulator I looked at was Marcus Møller Bitsch

Marcus Møller Bitsch is a distinguished artist known for his captivating photo manipulation work that pushes the boundaries of reality. His innovative approach blends digital artistry with photography to create visually striking and surreal compositions. His expertise lies in transforming ordinary scenes into extraordinary visual experiences, using sophisticated techniques to alter perspectives, enhance textures, and craft otherworldly environments. Each piece is a meticulous fusion of creativity and technology, offering viewers a glimpse into imaginative realms that challenge conventional perceptions. His work stands as a testament to his ability to blend reality with fantasy, producing art that is both thought-provoking and visually mesmerising. Out of all his images this stuck out to me and related with my concept the most as I was thinking of manipulating photos of humans and editing animals onto them and vice versa.

[thewritermuses]

Attack The Block

Attack The Block - Joe Cornish

Unedited Thoughts - This is part of my unedited thoughts series. I'd say this film fits nicely alongside Shaun of the Dead. It's a sci-fi comedy. But like Shaun of the Dead I think that this is only for a particular audience. It's fine but not great. It does some interesting things but as a whole it isn't great. Poor setup of our heroes as villains. We are introduced to our heroes as they rob our heroine. The idea here been that they are an anti-hero - but also they are only bad until something worse turns up and it does. But this doesn't excuse our dislike for them as petty criminals - muggers. The tone for the scene is all wrong - we are scared for Sam (Jodie Whittaker). Aliens invade and the lads are here to protect the block. It's just as ridiculous as it sounds. Normal heirachy is turned on its head - the cops get turned to mince meat. The head drug dealers get what is going on but are still focused on the perceived slight by Moses (John Boyega). This just doesn't ring true. The police and military response is non-existant - which makes zero sense. Fine just don't engage with the world outside the block. But they do - the cops take the kids into custody at the end. Shaun of the Dead gets away with this because: Zombie Apocalypse. There is no excuse for this here. The aliens are super cool. They have awesome glowing blue teeth. This visual is terrifying and mesmerising. One of the kids gets stuck in a bin and it looks like it is going to be a good setup for a rescue mission - but then nope. Just comic hilarity. It sort of sums up the movie for - good setups for missed opportunities. There are some truly hilarious parts in this film. The boisterous kiddy-gansta talk takes the cake for me. The language is atrocious though. Not one to take your nan to see. The biggest let down for me is that the film-makers try to tie this ridiculous story into the real world. The kids are arrested for the deaths - and they are going away for a long time. This is a huge let down for our heroes - they achieved victory only to end up loosing everything. Read the full article

[soulvedablog]

Best winter reads: Cosy books to curl up with on chilly days

Imagine yourself in a comfy corner of your home, wrapped in a soft blanket, with a captivating book. Amazing, right? This winter, immerse yourself in stories that transport you to distant lands and make the cold fade away.

By Team Soulveda

28 December 2023

Winter has arrived with its chilly days and nights, making indoors more enticing than ever. In fact, the best thing right now would be to nestle in a cosy corner of your home, wrapped in a blanket, lost in the pages of an exciting book, right? It’s the perfect retreat from the wintry outdoors, diving into stories that are sure to whisk you away to distant lands. So come along as we recommend five books to read on such nippy, cosy days.

The Snow Child by Eowyn Ivey

Step into the wintry landscape of 1920s Alaska in this captivating retelling of a fairy tale. The story revolves around a childless couple who build a snow child that magically comes to life, blurring the lines between reality and fantasy. With stunning descriptions of the Alaskan wilderness, this book explores love, loss and the mysteries of life.

Winter Garden by Kristin Hannah

In the Winter Garden, Kristin Hannah weaves a gripping story that alternates between World War II and the present day. Two sisters uncover their mother’s story of survival in a war-torn Russia. The narrative deals with family dynamics, history and the resilience of the human spirit against the backdrop of a biting Russian winter.

The Bear and the Nightingale by Katherine Arden

This book will transport you to the chilly wilderness of medieval Russia. It is a magical tale that follows a young girl named Vasilisa, whose gift for seeing mystical creatures becomes crucial in protecting her village from certain dark forces. Rich in folklore and atmosphere, this book is a mesmerising blend of fantasy and historical fiction.

The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern

Prepare yourself to enter a world of wonder with this beautiful tale set in a magical circus that only appears at night. As two young illusionists engage in a mysterious competition, the circus becomes the stage for their extraordinary feats. The Night Circus is a beautifully crafted story that is sure to transport you to a world of mysteries.

A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles

Enter the elegant Metropol Hotel in Moscow, where Count Alexander Rostov is placed under house arrest amid political turmoil. Through his life within the hotel, Rostov’s story unfolds, exploring resilience and human connections. Most importantly, this cosy read is about finding joy in simple moments even during difficult times.

Each of these books is like a warm embrace on a cold winter day, inviting readers to lose themselves in the story, characters and detailed settings. Whether it’s the historical depth of the tales, the magic or the exploration of human experiences, these books make perfect companions for cosy winter reading sessions. So warm that cup of hot chocolate and settle in!

FAQs

What makes a book ideal for winter reading?

Winter reads often feature immersive settings, heartfelt narratives or magical elements, making them ideal for winter reading.

Are there specific genres best suited for winter cosy reads?

Historical fiction, magical realism and enchanting fantasies are some popular choices for winter reading.

How do winter-themed books enhance the reading experience?

Winter-themed books with snowy landscapes or holiday settings create a great ambience and make for a good read, especially during winter itself.

Can you recommend a winter read suitable for all ages?

The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis is a classic suitable for readers of all ages.