#for the MAS server <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[mangofanarts]

Today is my egg daughter's birthday, say happy birthday to Oreos <3

Literally most happiest daughter there is out there, she's the sweetest and silliest!! She likes collecting animals and she likes the color pink too and she likes cooking and exploring!!! Look at her!! A ray of sunshine!!

[taviokapudding]

Just found out that some Japanese Splatoon players, call their turf war matches, league matches

But BUT B U T that’s not all, many of them shorten it to the equivalent of “leagma” for short

For those wondering “well why is that important?” to the EN speaking ear, it sounds exactly like ligma

I’m starting to think the Nintendo servers & in game voice chat for Splatoon 3 are designed the way they are intentionally because imagine the mayhem and chaos that would ensue during Splatfests

[project-sekai-facts]

Tsukasa and Rui are known collectively amongst their classmates as "Oddball 1-2 Finish" (in the JP, KR, and TW servers. The English localisation calls them "Weirdo Wombo Combo"). Due to this, they are frequently asociated with the numbers 1, 2 and any combination or variation of the two (12, 21, etc), both individually and as a duo.

In terms of cover songs, there's Telecaster B-Boy, where they sing the counting part at the beginning. Tsukasa says the number 1, and Rui says the number 2. Tsukasa is Oddball 1, and Rui is Oddball 2.

There's also a lyric in Oki ni Mesu mama sung by Tsukasa, that goes "Waiting for the "1, 2..." signal, holding hands with you is an act of courage for me". Whilst the lyric itself is entirely coincidental, having Tsukasa sing it was very likely intentional. The cover supposedly represents the growth in trust between Tsukasa and Rui, so with that context in mind, one could view the lyric as a reference to Tsukasa reaching out his hand to Rui at the end of the main story, a significant step in the development of their mutual trust.

There's also a few instances of staff releasing content for them on the 21st of a month. Examples include the Fixer 2DMV, which released on September 21st 2023, and their 2022 Summer Memorial illustration releasing on the 21st of August that year. This was also the 12th illustration in that series.

Coincidentally (or maybe not), A Story Where You Are the Star released on the 22nd of November 2023, or 11/22, and featured them both as 4* cards on the accompanying gacha. The event was announced the day prior, on the 21st again.

Rui's 3rd Anniversary Countdown illustration depicted their pillow fight from A Once-In-A-Lifetime Pandemonium!?, an event focused on their relationship, and was released 12 days before the anniversary.

The OST that plays during their Romeo and Juliet rehearsal in KAMIKOU FESTIVAL!, Ma・Ai no Theme ~True Love Song~, was later reused in A Song of Vows for You, Dressed in Pure White and released on the 2nd OST Album alongside the other music from that event. However, instead of being listed with the other tracks from that event on the album, it's listed as track 12.

Them being in class 3-C is a pun based on their status as Oddball 1-2. C is pronounced as "shi" in Japanese, which is the same as how the Japanese word for four is pronounced. Tsukasa and Rui being in class 3-C makes 1 2 3 4. Additionally, 1+2=3, and if you apply A=1, B-2, so on, then this also applies to A (Tsukasa's original class) + B (Rui's original class) =C.

There's also various smaller references, such as the full combo for KING on expert being 1002, Tsukasa growing 1cm and Rui growing 2cm at the 3rd anniversary, as well as Tsukasa telling Rui in the main story that he'll put 12000% into any role Rui gives him. The 12000% quote was also referenced in the 2DMV for their Dappou Rock cover.

[freelancearsonist]

I Was Fixed On Your Hand of Gold

➔ Lucien Flores x afab!Reader - 1k

➔ When Lucien gets bored, his hands start to wander. OR Lucien uses his fingers for good evil underneath the table at dinner with your friends.

➔ Rated MA for exhibitionism kink, fingering (r receiving), pet names (baby), references to smoking/nicotine use, no use of y/n, reader has female anatomy but no pronouns used. [please let me know if i missed any :)]

➔ i don't know anything about this man other than that he looks scummy and i'm in love with him. thank you to the dieter bravo brainrot club discord server for feeding my madness and to @shakespeareanwannabe for proofreading this incoherent horny babble <3 title is from 'would that i' by hozier wow what a surprise another cece fic named after a hozier song

“Don’t. Fucking. Move.”

It’s growled so low in your ear that you could almost believe it’s imagined. But with the way his fingers are dancing against your burning skin, tracing little circles along the length of your thigh, there’s nothing but intention in his voice–regardless of how raspy and deep it is.

Eager fingers push your skirt out of the way, impatient yet calculated. He moves slowly and with deliberation, careful not to show anything above the tablecloth.

“Don’t ignore your friends, baby,” he murmurs low into your ear so only you can hear.

It reminds you of where you are, and why this can’t happen right now. There’s five other people gathered around the table, all smiles and camaraderie and little sips of cheap wine. It’s been a good evening, really. But they’re your friends, not Lucien’s. He won them over within five minutes of meeting them and he’s been bored ever since. And when Lucien gets bored, his hands start to wander.

It’s wrong and you should really stop him. You should push his hand away before his nomadic fingers can climb any further up your thigh than they already have. But he finds the wet spot that’s pooling against your panties, and there’s no denying how much you want it.

It takes every ounce of your restraint not to moan when he finds your clit. It’s like his fingers gravitate to it, like there’s some kind of magnetic pull–even through the barrier of your panties, the cocky bastard doesn’t struggle at all.

He doesn’t even blink. His thick, practiced fingers swirl against the seat of your panties with ease and he doesn’t react even remotely when his fingers immediately come away soaked.

You’ve never been so wet in your life, watching him chuckle at the story your best friend is telling across the table and all the while pretending that his greedy, heavy fingers aren’t pushing your panties aside to swipe through the gathering slick.

Your knee jolts before you can control it and knocks against his thigh, thankfully not causing any noticeable disturbance to the rest of the table’s occupants. But the look he gives you is enough warning–head tipped down, dark eyes impossibly darker, jaw set. He looks dangerous, and it makes your traitorous cunt soak his fingers even further. He’ll only tell you once: if you can’t sit still, you’ll be going home aching and unsatisfied.

You need to come so bad in this moment that you feel like you might cry–so, despite feeling rather like a scolded child under his gaze–you lock every muscle in your body to the best of your ability and let the horrible, delicious onslaught continue.

You swallow thickly when you feel the first real press of his finger. It swirls from your clit down to your entrance, and that’s all the warning you get before he slowly, torturously presses it into your cunt.

He lets it rest, just for a moment, knuckle deep–he knows that even this single finger is a slight stretch. After a moment or two to adjust, he withdraws completely and you have to fight back the whine that builds in your throat. But before you can betray your impatience he’s back, overwhelmingly so, two fingers pressed deep and curled in the exact way that he knows will make you shatter. It’s cruel to do this to you right now, to find that most sensitive spot when you can’t moan or even shudder in reaction to the delicious onslaught of pleasure.

His fingers are relentless–there’s a skilled craft to the way his arm stays completely motionless while his middle and ring fingers flutter and scissor against your g-spot.

Your thighs shake from the sensation the closer he brings you to release. As much as you try to ignore it–to focus on the current story about something that happened in a grocery store parking lot last Thursday–he’s bringing you to the brink so fucking fast that there’s no denying it. There’s no hope for composure, especially once his calloused thumb joins in to swirl tight, rapid circles over your clit.

Above the table, you make eye contact with one of your closest friends and laugh breathlessly at the meaningless story they tell. They never even suspect that below the table, you’re squeezing and fluttering around Lucien’s hand as the most intense orgasm of your life sweeps through you.

It takes a solid few moments for you to be able to breathe normally again. And Lucien, the smug bastard, just leans back in his chair and spreads his leg comfortably, free hand resting behind his head in the most casual manner possible like he didn’t just make you come all over his fingers. And then, when he’s sure no one is looking, he brings his right hand up to his lips and sucks his fingers deep into his mouth–looking directly into your eyes as he does so. He licks every drop of your cum from his digits so carelessly in front of your friends that it nearly makes you come again.

You think he’s had his fill. Your head stops swirling and he laughs along with your friends and you think he’s done. You’re wrong. 

He takes your hand in his and laces your fingers together, guiding you ever-so-slowly to palm him through his loose sweatpants. His cock is straining, hard and insistent, against the thick cotton fabric–it makes you squirm in your own seat a little bit.

He’s impossibly casual about your touch as he wiggles a half-spent pack of Marlboros from his breast pocket.

“Go ahead, baby,” he mutters right into your ear. “Take care of your fuckin’ mess.”

And who are you to decline after he so generously took care of you?

➔ Want to see more from me in the future? Follow @freelancearsonist-updates and turn on post notifications to be notified when I post new fics!

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[kianaisspiraling]

*inhales*

WILD LIFE WILD LIFE WILDLIFEWILDLIFEWIL—

Okay okay so so far I've only watched Grian's pov but I'm gonna be binging soooo many others right after this.

First off- Skizz, Mumbo and Grian is just. Such an unexpected and silly group, I love them. Skizz, loyal to the bone. Grian, loyal but can switch sides if needed; won't betray you first. And Mumbo; the least loyal guy on the server, goes completely bonkers the moment he turns red

They also all just like. Carry themselves so seriously? But will very quickly devolve into being incredibly silly? So so silly. They will NOT last long, they're gonna fall apart faster than the Southlands for sure with the cheating allegations Mumbo is throwing at Grian, but it'll be hilarious :)

Grian: apologizing for knowing the wild cards beforehand

Me: smiles and adds it to the pile of Watcher Grian lore

Moving on from them:

*inhales again*

MISSING DOG FOUND-?!?

AND WE GOT TREEBARK BACK!!!!!! :D

The sheer happiness I felt when I saw Ren back oh my void, we missed you buddy. Martyn immediately pairing up with Ren whenever they are on the same server has my heart. They're theatre kids your honor. Can't wait to see Ren pull out his guitar <3

We also have TEAM CRINGE-FAIL-?! Lizzie, Scar, Jimmy all on the same team-? That's amazing. It would be hilarious if THIS is the season Tim wins. SURELY having such a high concentration of loser (affectionate) energy will circle around to make them clutch. Surely. It's their moment.

Smth smth, Lizzie and Scar were the only two people alone last season. Smth smth, Lizzie died first and Scar last. Smth smth, Scar reaches out an unconditional hand to Lizzie, offering her an ally because he knows what it's like to be without. Smth smth, Lizzie accepts because she knows waiting for allies leads to none. They're friends now :)

I also heard Scar brought the reputation points back?? If that's true then oml we're so close to getting a Third Life parody. So so close, especially with Scar falling off a cliff and dying while singing, claiming that everything that touches the light is his. It is SUCH a good season for us folks that never left the desert. Bonus points if Grian ends up with Scar after the Sub-One Club inevitably crumbles.

We've ALSO got the op, terrifying duo of Gem and Joel. They are going to be SO unhinged. They will be the chaos group this season, mark my words. They will inevitably fuck shit up and I am WAITING for it. Manifesting Gem or Joel win >:)

And over here we've got three of the divorce quartet (Scott, Pearl, and Cleo) allied with the local supportive dad (Impluse). Ladies, gentlemen, and everyone outside or in between, we once again have the girls, the gays, and ImpulseSV. Gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss, girldad <3

The three of them just reminiscing on Double Life while Impulse stays quiet, internally remembering his little life in the suburbs with Bdubs as they stirred the pot and watched drama unfold. He DOES NOT have anything to add to this conversation on messy divorce.

Also apparently Scott canonically believes that HE'S the reason Jimmy broke the canary curse and Scar won in secret life?? Because he stopped them from allying together last season or something?? That's just wonderful to me. I don't think he's entirely wrong either, they would've destroyed each other SO quickly

Now, getting on to BigB and whatever he's got going on. Something DEFINITELY happened to him in that hole last season, because he is getting increasingly cryptic. OF COURSE he would live in the Pale Garden with the Creaking. Where else would he go??

I absolutely love everyone making BigB a Creaking hybrid, but hear me out: BigB has ALSO been made a watcher by the fandom in previous seasons because of things like the Nosy Neighbors in Limited Life and his Whole Thing in Secret Life, right? You know what the Watchers are often compared to? Biblically accurate angels. You know what the Creaking has been compared to? Weeping Angels. BigB is a Weeping Angel.

(Maybe Weeping Angels are a type of Watcher. they're closely related to the Creaking; perhaps they made it?)

(I have not watched Doctor Who, though I'd like to. All I know is that Weeping Angels are VERY Watcher-core to me <3)

Finally we have a classic trio of Etho, Bdubs, and Tango. They're taming horses, they're non-stop bickering, they DO NOT share, it's every man for themselves. Tango is third wheeling Ethubs so much rn. They get on each other's nerves. They're besties, after all they keep putting themselves together no matter how much they bicker. Team BET ily <3

Love that Etho IMMEDIATELY tries to ally with the local Watcher for inside information, but Grian refuses to give it to him. It was worth a shot, buddy. I adore every second of screen time in which Grian and Etho interact. They are SUCH a good duo for me. One Stick Wither and Etho's Dishwasher, you will forever be famous <3

Anyhow, I think that covers everything I have to say for now, having watched one pov and scrolled Tumblr for a while. I cannot WAIT for this season, as there's a lot of stuff from previous seasons coming back, with Renchanting, the divorce quartet, Scar bringing back reputation points, and more. I can't wait to see this unfold :D

[ahllohehn]

art college au thingie wingie masterpost?

cause i can't keep track but they're sooooooooooo pretty :3

The Grumbo Artist AU is almost completely seperate from the College AU RP Blogs if that's what you're asking about. I don't think they're too many to make a big ass masterpost for, but here's some links for both sides:

GRUMBO ARTIST AU >Official Fanfic Series by Kat >First Meeting Comic >Supposed Planned Plot premise >First Experience Comic

COLLEGE AU (based off the artist au but not exactly it) >Grumbo Discord Server shared with the artist au >The One Time I Will be Entertaining these sorts of questions like this RP/GIMMICK BLOGS; > @ask-ma-mumbo > @ask-ce-grian > @ask-law-jimmy > @ask-ap-cub > @ask-astro-pearl > @ask-mb-lizzie > @ask-fa-scar (scar college au focused art here) > @fish-are-great > @coolest-beans > @ask-fd-scott

Reminder to consume content for both AUs excitedly but respectfully. Interact with the gimmick blogs as chaotically as you want but remember they are playing CHARACTERS.

[okatsu-corpos]

Nice boots ✨

Desenhei um meme que a jakei postou no servidor do discord dela, sinto que acabei fazendo o corpo do Cross meio longo, mas é divertido desenhar botas assim! :3

★

I drew a meme that Jakei posted on her discord server, I feel like I ended up making Cross's body a bit long, but it's fun to draw boots like that! :3

[mineralsrocksandfossiltalks]

Monday Musings: In Conclusion

This month has been dedicated to the Cambrian Period. Something most people are not aware of is that Paleozoic and Mesozoic periods are broken down into epochs and stages...just like the Cenozoic.

Just for fun I wanted to use this column of the Cambrian Period to show where all the major deposits and animals we've talked about (and a few we haven't) occurred.

Like our favorite trilobites!

Trilobites appeared in the fossil record at about 521 Ma, right at the end of Stage 2 of the Terreneuvian Epoch. Not long after that, the Chengjiang and Sirius Passet lagerstatten were deposited. This was towards the end of Stage 3 of Series 2. This is when the animal Haikouella lived.

Next is Emu Bay Shale. We haven't talked about that one yet. As you can imagine, Emu Bay is in Australia on Kangaroo Island.

It is one of two sites containing Redlichiidan trilobites.

The Burgess Shale was deposited at the beginning of the Drumian Age during the Mialingian Epoch. This is when Hallucigenia and Marella lived.

This is followed by the Wheeler Shale, Marjum and Weeks Formation sequence in the Guzhangian Age.

The final lagerstatten is the Orsten Fauna of Sweden. The fossils are just a little bit younger than the Utah ones and much smaller. This site preserved larval stages and the first fossil tardigrades.

By the end of the Cambrian there was a major faunal turnover into the Ordovician Period. Many brachiopods and conodonts died but the group that was hit the hardest was the trilobites. Those that lived on the outer edges of the shelfs and slope environments were hardly affected but those that lived in the shallow seas on the shelf were wiped out.

The Cambrian Period was important and I hope you enjoyed learning about it this month. Next month we will switch from geochronology to paleontology with comparative anatomy! There will be a video on the basics posted to youtube on October 19th but if you want to see it sooner then join my new Patreon! The video will be posted two weeks earlier.

There will also be interviews with my fellow paleontologists as well as lesson videos and access to the Minerals Rocks and Fossil Talks discord server. Thanks for all the support and fossilize you later!

[jpitha]

Between the Black and Gray 3

First / Previous / Next

Ma-ren was busy.

Helena had called out so, they were down a server during the lunch rush. Ti'ka helped spread the load, so it wasn't insurmountable, but it was busier than she had been in a while. She had told Fen to stay home today just to give things another day to cool down so Ma-ren felt additional obligation to make some extra money.

A bell sounded, and an unseen hand from the kitchen slid out a plate of pancakes for that new human eating outside. Ma-ren grabbed her plate and the coffee pot and strode out.

"Here are your pancakes, sorry for the wait! Would you like another coffee?" She placed the plate in front of him and made sure he had napkins and syrup.

"I would love another cup, thanks so much." He grinned widely as she poured. "Hey, I'm sorry for staring earlier, you just look familiar."

"Oh it's all right. Maybe I just have that kind of face." Ma-ren flicked her tail and looked back towards the kitchen. "You're new here right? When did you arrive?"

He finished chewing the pancakes and swallowed. "Just came in a couple hours ago on a freighter. I'm going to see if I can find some work and earn enough for passage on to the next station."

"Oh? Where are you headed?" Ma-ren switched to Colonic smoothly. Then, she realized what she was doing, shook her head, and her ears twitched. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't pry. I apologize, you don't have to tell me your business."

He chuckled and waved his hand, dismissively. "I haven't had a chance to speak Colonic in years. It feels good, like dusting an old cabinet. "No, no it's fine. I guess I'm making my way to Lemilar."

"Well, good luck on your journey!"

"Thanks Ma-ren, I'll try." He looked down at his food and then back up. "Actually, Ma-ren, can you recommend a hostel around here? I need a place to stay for a week or two."

Ma-ren laughed. "Friend, there's no place like that for humans or K'laxi here."

The human looked around. "Yeah, I kind of got that impression from the welcome wagon down on the promenade."

"Oh? Did you meet Tam? How much did he shake you down for?"

"He tried for one hundred Stars, but he didn't get any."

Ma-ren blinked. "Wait, you beat up Tam?"

The human shook his head quickly. "No! I just dodged his half-assed punches until he got tired and left."

"Oh I wish I could have been there for that! Someone needs to take Tam down a peg or two. He goes after humans and K'laxi, and not just newbies on the promenade. He comes up here and causes trouble, and when security comes, they harass us." Ma-ren looks back at the kitchen. "Look, I have to get back to work, but anyone who can take on Tam and walk away deserves praise. I've got a couch, you can crash with Fen and I for a day or two while you figure things out."

He blinked. "Are you sure? That's awfully generous. You just met me, I don't even think you know my name."

"Hey, we take care of our own up here. Ancestors know nobody else will. There's no reason for you to sleep out in the common if you don't have to." She winked. "So, what's your name then, friend?"

He suck out his right hand. "I'm Gord. Pleased to meetcha."

Ma-ren leaned back. "What's the hand for?"

Gord looked at her, and then at his hand, and put it down slowly. "Don't worry about it. It's an old greeting."

Ma-ren's ears twitched again. "Well Gord, I'm on for another couple of hours and then I'll take you back to our place. I'll bring you the check for the pancakes, but I can keep the coffee going so the boss doesn't wonder why you're still here."

Gord finished his food and took out a battered pad and read while sipping three or four coffees while Ma-ren finished her shift. When she was finished, she walked out in her street clothes. "Ready Gord?"

Gord snapped the pad shut and picked up his pack. "Sure thing Ma-ren. Lead the way."

She took him to her apartment over on the other side of the floor. As they approached her building, they passed Da'reni sitting out front reading again, his gray muzzle buried in his pad. Ma-ren waved. "Hey Da'reni, I've got a boarder for a couple of days. New arrival."

Da'reni grunted and flicked his eyes up. He did a double take and stared. His ears flattened, and he looked like he was going to say something. Then, he fluffed his fur and grunted and went back to his pad. "Careful, newbie. You've got that kind of face. The one that gets security called up here."

Gord raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Ma-ren's tail flicked. "Don't worry Gord, that's just how Da'reni is. Come on, you can come up and meet Fen and get settled.

Ma-ren bounded up the stairs while Gord walked more carefully. When she got to the apartment door, she touched the locking stud and the door buzzed and opened with a loud click. "Fen hon, I'm back and I bought a friiiiiiiiend!"

There was bustling from the kitchen area. "Oh, who is it? Did you drag Helena back again?"

Ma-ren laughed. "Nah, newbie off a freighter. Get this, he managed to dodge getting beat up by Tam!"

Fen leaned around the corner, face covered in flour and a towel draped across her shoulder. "Okay, you win. Hey newbie, I'm Fen."

He waved. "Gord."

"Sit Gord, you drink tea? Too bad, I'm making some. I'll have cookies out in an hour."

Gord, Fen and Ma-ren sat around their small table, drinking tea while Gord brought Fen up to speed and telling them about dodging Tam.

"Shit Gord, I know how hard Tam can hit-" Fen rubbed her cheek "-first hand, and the fact that you dodged him is nothing short of impressive."

"Oh, it wasn't so much, but thanks all the same. He really telegraphs his moves, and I know that a Gren really only has three or four punches in them." Gord sipped his tea politely.

Gord put his cup down. "So Fen, Ma-ren how long have you been here? Sure seems like they are trying to get all the humans and k'laxi to move along."

Fen and Ma-ren shared a look and then laughed. "Oh Gord, we were born and raised here. Most of the time, the station authorities ignore us. Our parents came in on Spyglass and these days it's not going anywhere so we just... stayed."

Gord blinked. "Wait, Spyglass? The Starjumper? She's here? Where?"

Fen raised an eyebrow. "Docking bays thirty three through forty. We have a big fundraiser every year to pay the docking fees. We probably should just scrap it, but we can't bring ourselves to do it. It saved all of us."

Gord looked at them in horror. "Scrap her? No, you can't do that! Have you even asked her what she thinks of that?"

Ma-ren looked at Gord carefully. "Her? Gord, Spyglass is a ship. A creaky, old, cold, human made ship. It's probably the oldest thing on this station by a long shot. It's not alive."

Gord boggled. He shut his mouth and took a deep breath in, and then out again though his nose. He picked up his tea and Ma-ren noticed his hand was shaking. "Gord? What are you not telling us?"

At that, Gord smiled. "Quite a lot, actually. But that's neither here nor there." He sipped his tea, took another cleansing breath and seemed to collect himself. "Can we go over to Spyglass? Can we go in her?"

Fen shrugged. "I mean, it-she's cold. The reactors failed decades ago, but she's not like, guarded. We used to play there as kids."

"Will you take me there? It's important. I need to see something." For the first time since they met, Ma-ren noticed that Gord was nervous.

"S-sure Gord. We can head over." Fen looked up at the clock over the stove. "Curfew isn't for a few cycles, let's go now."

[oriiduckko]

I don’t really post much of my other OCs since I usually post all my art in my server but I,ma introduce you guy to my baby that I created for 2-3 years now,,,,, he’s my Hiraeth OC and I recently just got a time to make his new ref but I didn’t post him on artfight cause I forgor lol

His name is Jax, he’s a fire bodyguard guy who just has a big crush on Nyx’s boyfriend/husband and still in denial that Wiatt will never date him LMAO JNJCENJSXNJA

anyways have my collection of jax that I made through out the years I made him

[first-edition]

Daughter of Kaer Morhen

Smut-mas day 5

Geralt of rivia x reader

Sum- You spend all your time and days taking care or kaer morhen with your dogs but it’s only when the witchers come home you can finally relax

CW- smut, 18+ language and themes, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), oral! Fem receiving, pet names.

“Come along.” You call to your 7 dogs as they all run up to the large doors of kaer morhen aka your home. The first and only human to reside there.

You’ve lived at kaer morhen ever sconce you could remeber. Vesimer found you as a baby in the woods cold hungry and dying. He took it upon him self to feed, clothe and house you teaching you the skills of a Witcher yet brought in mages to teach you the skills to be a proper lady.

Over time you became friends with the other witchers and even a lover to one, geralt of rivia or as you and the others call him white wolf, wolf for short.

You stop in your place seeing horses tetherd and smoke roaring from the top of the hold. Running to the door you open it seeing your family. A huge smile covers your face. You place down your basket and run to them. All the men embrace you in a large group hug.

“Move aside come now let me see my daughter!” Vesimer voice travels through the room as everyone steps back.

“Father!” You exclaim and run to him hugging him he picks you up spinning.

Placing you down he pulls back too see your face. “Oh how I’ve missed those lavender eyes, fair skin and strong spirit!” He smiles and kisses your fore head.

“You look well.” He says “yes my dogs have helped me much so with winter hunt. You on the other hand look starved.” You reply and whistle one of your dogs grabs the basket walking over to you.

“Venison, bear, salmon, and mushrooms if they server your liking?” You ask “oh!! You treat me too well.” He says you smile and grab your basket.

“Your rooms are mended and fresh fur is placed….” You say but stop and look around the room counting how many are left.

“Where is wolf? And eskel?” You ask. Everyone looks around “not here m’lady” lambert says “hm.”

“I’m sure he’ll arrive” Coen replies. You nod and continue your way to the kitchen.

———

You sit your dogs around you nose head resting on your lap. A horses whine can be heard.

“That’ll be eskel he has the loudest horse.” Lambert says. You scoff. The doors open revealing the famous, large, white haird Witcher. But he’s brought someone with him a girl around the age of 16.

“Where the fuck have you been!?” Lambert exclaims as geralt places his bag down with a thud.

“We thought you were lost or killed..” coen says

Geralt chuckles “not yet..” he says and laughs as they all hug. He greets vesimer as well. Your dogs get up and run to him and greet him but bark at the sight of the girl.

You stand up “Vulcan heel!” You exclaim he whines and runs to your side “sit.” You say he does. Geralt watches you in awe missing the sight of you. Everything about you perfect to him.

“Wolf..” you say as he walks twirls you.

“You’re late..3 hours to be precise-“ he cuts you off pulling you in and kissing you. You smile into the kiss wrapping your arms around his neck.

Ciri covers her mouth not too show her smile. Geralt spoke of you before but she never invisioned the fearless heartless man to be so mezmerized by you.

You two pull away and you look into his amber eyes. “I’ve missed you.” He states, “and I you.” You reply but your sight goes to the girl.

“And who have you brought with you?” You ask. “Cirilla. This is y/n.”

“Are you a Witcher.?!” “Oh no but I am vesimers daughter, I live here tend to it whilst the witchers are gone.” You reply she smiles “pleasure to meet you!” She says “and you cirilla” “ciri.” She corrects you nod “ciri”

———

Soon eskel arrives and the party begins

The night is filled with music and laughter ciri dances with the rest.

You stand and watch by the door way.

“You’re not enjoying yourself?” Geralt asks from behind you as his large arms weapp around your waist.

“Huh? I am believe me…just parties with women of the night aren’t really my scene. I’d much rather spend it with you.” You reply turning around to face him he presses his lips against yours lightly and squeezes your waist.

You pull away and grab his hand leading him away.

Walking into the room he closes the door and smashes his lips against yours. His hands roaming your waist to your back instead of waiting to in tie your corset he rips it apart. Getting you out as soon as possible.

Opening your legs he rests in between sitting up only to take off his shirt and pants leaving you both nude. His large hard cock presses against your pussy making you gasp “Ah wolf please!” You plead out to him.

“I want to take my time with you, I haven’t seen you all year!” He huffs in your ear as he grinds himself against you. His mouth pulls from your neck. He kisses down your body between your breasts. His large calloused hand takes a breast in hand and squeezes causing you to moan out.

Kissing down your body he finds his way to your thigh kissing it as well. You look up at the ceiling and feel his tounge press against your clit causing you gasp and shift. Geralt grabs your thighs keeping you in a place as he eats you out.

His tounge swirling around you dipping into you causing your back to arch. “F-fuck geralt!” You moan out placing your hand on his head. Trying to pull him off “ngh g-geralt please I-ah I’m gonna cum.” You huff he dosnt listen and only moves up and inserts a finger then another.

Pressing against your g spot as sucking on your clit make it unbearable. Finally snapping as you cum. He dosnt rest over stimulating you.

He finally pulls away and immediately moves up to kisses you letting you taste your sweet self. You grind your hips on his dick. He pulls away hissing through his teeth.

“P-please.” You answer his gasp. “Please what!?” He growls pulling your hairs back.

“Ngh.. p-please fuck me.” You reply he kisses your neck surely leaving hickeys And angles himself up to you. “Good girl.” He huffs and pushes himself in making sure to be carful and not to hurt you. 

you moan out as he enters your pussy. 

he begins to move slowly at first to find a rythim and then rough and fast. 

Your nails drag against his back and arms being sure to leave marks. 

“F-fuck Wolf!” you exclaim you breast bouncing to his hips pounding you. 

he pulls back a bit and pulls you closer to him pulling your leg up over his large shoulder. the angle making your back arch and grabbing the sheets. “ah shit.” he curses groaning out. 

The sound of moans and groans, skin hitting skin rumbels through the room although not loud enough to reach the party loud party downstairs. 

you cletch around geralt dick as you cum. he sees this and fucks you even rougher.  “Ah ah g-geralt i-.” “come on baby” he grumbles in your ear. as he bottoms out hitting you cervix making you cum again this time its enough for him to finish as well. his warm cum pooling inside of you. 

Both if you pant coming down from your highs. he pulls out making you whimper. he chuckles and pecks your lips and moves off of you. 

geralt lays next to you an pulls you close to him. “come with me.” you says you giggle “where.” you reply “out. out of kaer morhen.” he replies. 

“you know i cant do that.” you reply. “y/n..” “wolf-” you cut him off. 

he sighs pulling you closer to him and kissing your head. “Just one year..come with me.” he says you dont reply. “y/n..” he says trailing off seeing youve fallen asleep already. he chuckles and nods kissing your head again

[colormepurplex2]

Flowers of Fate | MYG JJK KNJ PJM

▻ Flowers of Fate ↳ UnseeliePrince!Yoongi x Human!f.Reader (ft. x UnseelieGuard!Jungkook x SeeliePrince!Jimin x WoodNymph!Namjoon) ⤜ Fae/Magick ⤜ Strangers to Bonded Mates ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 56,072 ⤜ Summary: You grew up hearing whimsical tales and ballads of magic and the hauntingly beautiful fae from your late grandpa. In an effort to feel closer to him and experience the joy he so often spoke of, you take a spur-of-the-moment trip to Scotland to partake in Beltane— a festival that took center stage in many of his stories. But, in a shower of yellow flower petals, you find yourself getting far closer to your grandpa's stories than you ever thought possible.

⚠️ Adult humor, crass language, talk of adult activities, drinking, mild angst/talk of the loss of a loved one, kidnapping, talk of murdered loved ones, angst, hurt feelings, vaginal sex, cum eating, body exploration, awkward yet endearingly cute sexual moments, jealousy, blood, stab wounds, violence, torture/being held captive, minor character deaths, first-time vaginal sex, not-so-first-time vaginal sex, nipple play, marking/biting, mfmm scene, kissing, guys kissing, blow job, cum swallowing, creampies, things get emotional Each chapter will have specific warnings listed.

Chapter 1: Honey Bells & Rosemary

Chapter 2: Lavender & Thyme

Chapter 3: Cedar & Clove

Epilogue: A Story Written In The Stars

Story is complete.

A/N: I have a lot of plans to revisit this world, often and a lot. There are drabbles, spin offs, and lots of fun things planned.

Part of the BTS Fantasy and Fangs Server A Spring Offering Collaboration.

A special thank you to @downbad4yoongi @moonleeai and @hisunshiine for beta'ing through this chaos so far and supporting me 💜

Can also be found on: Ao3 | Wattpad

◅ Back to Main Master List  ©️ 2023-05 ColorMePurplex2

[freelancearsonist]

all that we see or seem

➔ Dieter Bravo x AFAB!Reader

➔ 5.7k words

➔ You moved to Hollywood in hopes of chasing your dreams; you get a lot more than you bargained for from your new boss, Dieter Bravo.

➔ Rated MA // dark fic, reader is afab (female anatomy, no pronouns used) and generally able-bodied, age gap (unspecified, reader is younger than dieter), vampire!dieter, blood/both consensual and non-consensual blood drinking, knife use, slight self-harm, gore of the mouth variety, pet names, takes place in 1983 bc i’m a sucker for changing settings

➔ this was requested from this prompt list by the very lovely @sp00kymulderr!! happy birthday darling, sorry this took so long but i hope it's worth the wait <3 thank you so much to @missredherring for this AMAZING header graphic ily 🖤

Los Angeles is a far cry from the little town you grew up in. It’s a seemingly endless maze, with more possibilities than you ever could’ve dreamed. It’s a little daunting, really. You step off your plane with your suitcase in hand, and you feel like the world is in the palms of your hands.

The harsh reality comes crashing in without warning.

LA is expensive, especially on your own. As the money you’d saved up to get you started dwindles much quicker than expected, your dreams only get further and further out of reach. Life always finds a way to fuck you over, and the city of angels does it quicker than anywhere else. The glitzy neon nightclubs and the glamor of Hollywood swiftly become an omen of doom rather than a beacon of hope. You’re in over your head, but it’s too late to back out now.

Auditions get put on the backburner. You work yourself to the bone as a server in a dumpy little diner, but it’s still barely enough to cover your basic expenses.

You wake up, you go to work, you come home, you go to sleep. The cycle repeats itself so quickly that your days all merge together into one, long, neverending nightmare.

The light at the end of the tunnel appears shortly before the first anniversary of your move. You’re scanning through the paper during your meal break when you see a help wanted ad. It’s normally the type of thing you would ignore, but a few things about it draw you in. The part that really catches your eye is the large, bold letters that proclaim “work closely with one of the biggest names in hollywood!” It seems too good to be true, and certainly something you’re not qualified for. But it could be a start–a way to get your foot through the door of the industry that brought you out here in the first place. Really, what’s the harm in trying?

You go to the library, type up your resume, and mail it in to the address listed in the ad. Realistically, you know that there must be hundreds of other applicants and you probably won’t get so much as a rejection letter back; but the needling little ‘what if’ in the back of your mind gives you a boost of hope that you’ve lived without for an achingly long time.

You get better than a letter–a broad, handsome man shows up at the diner late one night asking for you three days after you drop your resume into the local mail slot at the post office. Janine, the shaggy-haired waitress you work with almost every shift and have sort of become friends with, nudges you excitedly while you’re handing a ticket back to the kitchen.

“Honey, do you know who that is?” She nods her head over her shoulder towards a table in the corner of her section and you try to look over as nonchalantly as possible.

Of course you know who that is. His face is everywhere in this stupid town–magazine covers, billboards, movie theaters. Even with sunglasses obscuring the dark brown eyes that have made thousands swoon, you recognize Dieter Bravo. He’s bigger than Hasselhoff and Swayze combined.

“He’s asking for you,” Janine whispers. “By name. You know him?”

“Not yet,” you answer truthfully. You know without a doubt that he’s here because of your resume and that your entire world is about to change.

You’ve seen him on the big screen before and now you can definitively say that it doesn’t do him justice. He’s more handsome than any man has a right to be. He’s wearing a black hoodie and black trousers, an ensemble that stands out in the brightness of 1983 but yet perfectly complements the tanned tone of his skin. His shoulders could fill a doorway and his smile might actually melt you into a puddle. You can’t help but notice–with a hint of trepidation–that his canines are the sharpest you’ve ever seen, although that thought is quickly pushed from your mind when he greets you by name.

“Your resume is impressive.”

“No it’s not,” you respond with a little laugh before you can stop yourself, then you have to refrain from banging your head into the wall. What a great start to an interview.

But he laughs, and you can’t help feeling you’ve done something right. You’d do a hell of a lot worse just to hear that gorgeously deep, hearty chuckle again.

“Okay, I’ll rephrase. You said all the right things. You’ve got exactly what I’m looking for as an assistant.”

You’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, because this is much too good to be true.

“You’re not from LA,” he states factually. “What brought you here?”

You consider lying–coming up with some story that’s less pathetic than the truth. He’s appreciated your honesty thus far, though, and you don’t want to break a streak. “I wanted to act, but… it’s hard to get started when you don’t have any connections. So I’ve just been kind of… getting by.”

He nods and gives you a look over–assessing, you think. “We all have to start somewhere. But this isn’t an easy job.”

There’s something unreadable in his voice, but you choose to ignore it because you want nothing more than a chance to impress him. It’s not about ‘making it’ anymore; it’s about proving to Dieter Bravo that you’re worth taking a chance on.

“Neither is this,” you reply with a vague wave at the diner around you. “If I’m not covered in fryer grease at the end of the day, it’s a good job to me.”

He chuckles again and it washes over you like fresh water after years of drought. You want more of him–more of his charm, more of his warmth.

“When can you start?”

You ask for two weeks to leave your diner gig on good terms, and he’s gracious enough to accommodate you. As the days tick past, the anticipation ramps up and time seems to move slower. You’ve never been so excited for a new job. Normally, your gut twists with anticipation and your mind swirls with every little minute detail that could go wrong–but not now. No, now you’re just excited. The possibilities of Hollywood finally seem to be within your reach again, and it all starts with this job.

You learn a lot about Dieter within five minutes of starting on your first day. For one, he’s incredibly personable. He greets you himself and vows to show you the ropes. There’s no third party to teach you everything you need to know, it’s just him. Just the two of you. You appreciate that immensely, because you’ll be serving him directly as his assistant. There’s no better person to learn from when it comes to his desires and routines than the man himself.

Two, he wears many different masks. It’s a little spooky, the way his demeanor changes depending on who he’s dealing with. He can be the sweetest, most charming man you’ve ever spoken to, then turn to a producer and be a complete hardass all in the name of getting things done. He knows exactly what persona he needs to wear for each person he interacts with–it’s all very calculated. You suppose all actors have to be capable of that; the mark of a good thespian is being instantly able to pretend you’re someone you’re not.

Still, it’s a little chilling. If you didn’t see it in some form or another with every person you meet on set, you’d be a little concerned. Dieter just makes it look like adaptation–fitting into his surroundings as a means of staying afloat. He’s been in this industry for a long time, he knows what works; and, subsequently, what doesn’t.

As far as the job goes, it’s a nice change of pace from what you’ve become accustomed to. You spend nights on set with him, fetching his coffee order or running little errands while he’s busy shooting. The hours aren’t unreasonable, and it pays double what the diner did. Now that you’re not struggling to get by financially, you have the free time you need to start pursuing your dreams again.

You have only Dieter to answer to, which is a definite learning curve. Directors, producers, and even other actors chase after your favors, but Dieter tells them unequivocally to fuck off. You’re his–it’s a heady feeling each time he  reasserts it. It makes for easy work when you’re not being pulled in thirty different directions simultaneously. He asks for what he needs when he’s around and he gives you a list of tasks to complete when he’s not. He’s a little eccentric–he tells you he can only work after dark because his eyes are sensitive–but it’s nice, falling into a routine after so long of working unconventional hours at a job where no two days are the same.

Still, as days turn into weeks by his side, you wonder exactly what version of Dieter he’s presenting to you. Which face is the most authentic? You want to believe he’s himself with you, but you’re not quite naive enough to convince yourself of that. The thing that bothers you the most is that you want him to feel comfortable enough to drop the facades around you. You want to get to know the real Dieter Bravo, underneath all the masks. But you also swore to yourself, when you accepted this job, that you would be nothing but professional–and wanting to get to know him so intimately is definitely a step beyond just being his employee.

To his credit, he’s strictly professional–even if you wish he wasn’t at times. There’s a lot of rumors and gossip about him, about his hedonism and the life he supposedly leads at night, but you don’t see that facet of him. With you, he’s friendly, kind, and respectful. He’s the perfect gentleman–and that’s how you know that you’re not getting a full glimpse of the real him. There’s too much contradiction between the rumors and the Dieter that you interact with. 

No matter how straight-laced you try to be, you can’t help wondering what it’ll take to get a look at the real Dieter Bravo.

You think he starts to peek through when Dieter asks if you would be willing to work longer hours and be more of a personal assistant than a production assistant. You know him inside and out, he tells you, and it would be a pain in the ass to teach a whole new person how to deal with his errands. He even offers you a sizable raise when you pretend to be contemplating it, like you weren’t bursting at the seams to say yes before he even finished asking. 

The sad–maybe even pathetic–truth of the matter is that you’re falling for him. Every facet of his charm, from his darkly passionate eyes to his easy humor, have you completely bewitched and ready to ignore the way your hair stands on end each time his gaze meets yours. You’ll take any small fraction of him that you can get.

He eases you into your additional duties, at least; that much can be said in his favor. He starts you out with small tasks, like ordering his groceries and picking up his dry cleaning. Dieter’s so kind and patient as he explains how he likes everything done–he’s particular, but not unreasonable. He even gives you a grand tour of his home so you can see exactly where and how he likes everything done–it’s like finally getting that real glimpse of him that you’ve been hoping for.

His Sherman Oaks mansion looks like something straight out of a Bram Stoker novel on the outside, yet the inside is a testament to the warm side of his personality that you’re more familiar with. It’s decorated in shades of orange and red, with patterns that are a little out of date but still manage to feel intentional. It gives the impression of someone who was more comfortable and sure of himself in the 70’s, or at least someone who hasn’t quite adjusted to the new trends that came with the turn of the decade. The walls are covered with art–most of it signed with his familiar “DB” in the bottom right hand corner. It’s neat, but not so neat that it feels staged. It fits the Dieter Bravo that you know perfectly, and it even starts to feel like home to you when you start spending more time there with him.

There’s never anyone else around when you’re there. For someone who has a reputation for throwing the liveliest parties in all of Hollywood, he doesn’t actually do a lot of partying. Not when you’re around, at least. It’s almost like he’s trying to hide that aspect of himself from you. If he has to host, he sends you home early or lets you know in advance that you’re getting a paid night off. You’re almost disappointed–parties have never really been your thing, sure, but you feel like you need to experience at least one of his.

Plus, people are starting to talk. You hear it on set first; his co-stars whispering about how he’s gone soft, how he’s gotten boring. Even the tabloids are starting to wonder if they’ve seen the last infamous Dieter Bravo party, which were once highly coveted and exclusive events. The few times he’s hosted lately have been small, quiet affairs–definitely not the big, star-studded shebangs that he’s gained a reputation for.

A rumor even starts circulating that he’s finally decided to settle down with a nice girl, which makes your stomach twist with a little green monster that shouldn’t be there. He’s your employer, you reason. That’s all. No matter how friendly he is, no matter how much he flirts with you, no matter how much he compliments your perfect cup of coffee, that’s all he is. Your boss. And yet, despite your constant self-assertion, your brain just can’t seem to accept it. You know you shouldn’t want anything more than that, and yet you just can’t seem to stop yourself from hoping.

“What’s going on with you?”

You’re in the midst of trying to sort through the files in his upstairs home office so you can find out when his insurance needs to be renewed when you hear the voice, loud and clear due to the open floor plan downstairs. Sound travels like crazy up the double-wide staircase with Dieter’s office door right at the top. You couldn’t shut it out even if you wanted to–and you don’t. God help you, you’re a little nosy and a little curious.

“Nothing.” That’s Dieter’s voice, but you don’t recognize the other.

“Bullshit. You’re not yourself.” It’s a deep, rich tone that you’ve never heard before and it immediately has your interest hooked. Dieter doesn’t get many visitors, much less such purposeful ones. Most people like to schmooze him, but evidently not this unidentified man.

“I’m trying to be different,” Dieter explains half-heartedly. “It’s time I cleaned up a bit.”

“No. Cleaning up your act is nothing more than a good way to get yourself caught. Things happen in the party climate, that’s how you fit in. Things don’t just happen to nice rich actors.”

Caught? Caught doing what, exactly? You creep closer to the open door on light feet, curiosity peaked.

Dieter sighs, and you can hear the exhaustion in his voice. “I’m tired.”

“So what are you going to do? Just give up? Waste away after… how long?”

“Maybe I should,” Dieter retorts–there’s grit in his tone now, maybe even bitterness. “Maybe I never should’ve taken the deal in the first place. You don’t see how fucked up this all is?”

“So, what? You’ve gotten everything you could’ve possibly wanted, and now you’re tired of playing the game? Pathetic.” There’s a sneer in the tone of this unidentified speaker and you don’t like it. You want to jump to Dieter’s defense, but something tells you this is a conversation that you shouldn’t be eavesdropping on.

“Whatever, man,” Dieter scoffs dismissively.

There’s noise downstairs now–a slight thud and what sounds like Dieter grunting as if the wind has been knocked out of him. 

“What changed?”

“Fuck off,” Dieter spits.

“What. Changed?”

“You weren’t fucking honest with me.”

“Bullshit,” the stranger growls back. “You knew exactly what you were getting into.”

“No, you said everything I wanted, that was the deal. Remember?” It’s quiet for a long moment, and you wonder if Dieter’s pacing. He does that, when he starts to get stressed. “I’m still alone, though.”

“That’s your own fault,” the stranger replies–voice a little softer now. “I didn’t say I would hand you your dreams on a silver platter. You make your own destiny. Surely it hasn’t been so long that you’ve forgotten that little qualifier.”

“I can’t bring someone else into this shit and you know it,” Dieter replies. The venom is gone from his voice now–he just sounds done. Exhausted and spent.

“You can, but you won’t.” There’s a moment of silence, then a heavy sigh. “Start acting like yourself again before you raise too much suspicion.”

“Fine,” Dieter sighs heavily. 

There’s a few long moments of silence, and then you hear the heavy solid oak front door shut. Presumably the guest has gone, and while you’re eager to sneak down and see if you can catch a glimpse of who it might’ve been, it’s far too risky with Dieter down there. Something tells you that he should never find out about the way you just eavesdropped on that conversation. You don’t know who he was talking to, or what kind of deal they were discussing–you just know that it’s serious, and definitely above your paygrade.

“Did you find that paperwork?”

You didn’t hear Dieter come upstairs–his sudden question from right behind you makes you jump and whirl around to look at him. You fight to keep your calm as you catch your breath; the last thing you want to do is clue him in that you overheard his conversation with his unknown guest.

“Yeah, I’ve got it right here,” you answer after a thick gulp.

“You’re a doll,” he proclaims with a wide smile. How easily he picks up the face he wears with you after a conversation that clearly upset him. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” you hum with a smile. “This entire room is a nightmare. It’s a miracle you ever find anything. You need to get, like… some filing cabinets. At the very least.”

“I’ll, uhh… get right on that,” he says in a way that makes you sure he definitely won’t get right on it.

Despite the nerves still thrumming through your veins, you laugh. “I’ll take care of it.”

“You’re a doll,” he repeats with his trademark grin. “Oh! Hey, uhh… you have tomorrow off. Paid, obviously.”

“Why?” You ask before you can think better of it. 

He seems surprised–you don’t normally ask questions, especially about paid vacation days. “Work stuff I gotta take care of. No big deal.”

“Okay,” you answer with a slight frown. “Sure I can’t help?”

He actually does seem to be contemplating it for a moment–his eyes scan over your body, and it’s like he’s considering you more than the actual offer. “No, honey, I’ll be okay.”

“Okay.” You take a short breath, then head towards the door–this was the last task on your list for the night. “Anything else you need before I head out?”

He thinks for a moment, then shakes his head as he follows you down the stairs. “No. Thanks, sweetheart.”

You feel heat fluttering underneath your skin at the pet name–he uses them often and they never fail to make your heart pick up pace. It’s like he can tell, because his eyes linger on your lips for a moment before trailing down to the pulse point on the left side of your neck. You wonder for a second if he can actually see it beating, but you quickly push that ridiculous thought away.

“You’re sure there’s nothing I can do for you tomorrow?”

His eyes are still trained on your neck like he’s completely zoned out or something. You watch as his tongue slowly glides over his bottom lip, trance-like; it makes your breath hitch in your throat.

“Yeah,” he whispers after a long moment–he’s standing so close now, you didn’t even notice him closing in. “I’ll call you if anything comes up.”

“Okay.” You want nothing more than to grab him and pull him in, to kiss him like your life depends upon it. He sounded so upset and every bone in your body is screaming to comfort him. The way he’s looking at you right now, you don’t think he’d mind at all. 

Instead you take a deep breath, grab your bag from the bench next to the door, and bid him goodnight.

Dieter doesn’t seem to realize that you’re always working, whether you’re on the clock or not. Even on ‘off’ days, you get loads of calls for scheduling requests and other tasks. Your saving grace is your trusty day planner—it holds both of your schedules, all neatly color-coded for maximum efficiency.

The worst thing you could’ve done on a weekend leading up to awards season is leave it in Dieter’s home office—and yet, as you frantically dig through your tote bag and your desk, that seems to be exactly what you’ve done.

You know Dieter’s got whatever event he’s hosting at home, but you can’t keep taking calls and scribbling notes on napkins without your schedule in front of you. The last thing you want to do is overbook him at a time where every single interview counts.

With a heavy sigh, you dial Dieter’s home number. It rings for what seems like eternity, and just as you’re about to hang up an unfamiliar voice answers.

“Hello?”

With a sigh of relief, you ask, “Hi, is Dieter there?”

“He’s busy.” The voice is high and sweet, yet her tone says she couldn’t be more irritated.

“Okay… umm, it’s kind of important.”

The stranger sighs dramatically. “I can take a message.”

“I just… I left something there, and I need to come get it as soon as possible. But I don’t want to interrupt anything.”

This time when she speaks, her tone is considerably more friendly. “Oh! Yeah, come on over. The more the merrier!”

You can’t help your intrigue, although you really don’t want to intrude without Dieter’s say-so. “Are you sure? I could always come tomorrow, I guess.”

“No no, come! It’s a party, everyone’s welcome!” Then the line goes dead without any further discussion.

You consider redialing in the hopes of speaking and clearing your visit with Dieter, but you doubt you’ll actually get through to him–and really, what harm would a quick visit do? You know exactly where you left it, on the desk in his office. It’ll be five minutes tops, a quick in and out. He might never even know that you’d been there.

You shake off the curious sense of foreboding that overtakes your mind as you grab your keys and lock your apartment door behind you.

It’s a twenty minute ride to Dieter’s house–a lot of time to spend thinking. At the forefront of your mind is that peculiar conversation you overheard last night; you’re not entirely sure why, really. Whoever that man was sounded almost as if he was in some kind of position of power over Dieter, and you don’t have even an educated guess at who that could possibly be. Dieter’s his own boss and he doesn’t take bullying–you’ve never heard someone get away with bossing him around like that before. He’s constantly in some weird form of pissing match with the directors and producers of whatever film he’s working on; he’s never seemed to be good at taking orders, even when he’s supposed to. You’ve heard many a rant about how much he values the ‘freedom of expression’. It all serves to make the mysterious visitor more confusing. Who does Dieter have to answer to?

The cab pulls up in front of his gated home before you’re able to find a plausible answer. You instruct the driver to keep the meter running since you’ll only be a minute before you step out into the crisp late-January air.

The grounds are a lot quieter than you expect them to be as the guard on duty opens the gate and closes it behind you. One thing Dieter’s famous for is noise–his parties are always reported as loud and exciting affairs akin to the fraternities in his favorite movie Animal House. There's no noise at all today, though, and it makes you curious. Is it really a party? Or was the stranger who answered the phone maybe his only guest? If the latter is the case, why would she want you to join in?

There’s a pale man in a cheap-looking suit waiting just inside the door, a tray of filled wine glasses in his gloved hands. “Take one,” he instructs, his eyes distant like he’s looking through you rather than at you.

“Oh, no thank you, I just need to–”

“Take one,” he repeats. “Master’s orders.”

Master? Of course Dieter would be into that. 

The wine is a deep red, probably that expensive vintage shit that he’s always raving about. You prefer the grocery store stuff yourself, not just because it’s all you can afford. A drink never hurts, though, and you could certainly use something to take the edge off–because that tingling sense of foreboding has only gotten stronger since your arrival.

You take a glass and swirl its currant-colored liquid around. It seems more viscous than any wine you’ve had before–probably a mark of its age, but that’s just guesswork on your part. You take a small sip, then nearly gag. It’s like drinking a pile of melted pennies. You swallow it down with a grimace anyway since you don’t want to make a scene of spitting it out in front of the server. It leaves a metallic taste in your mouth that you’re eager to wash out–thankfully, the kitchen is on your route to the stairs. You quickly deposit the glass on a table once you’re out of the server’s eyesight, then head down the hall in a desperate search for water.

Once you’re out of the foyer, there are people everywhere. Very subdued people, at that–draped over furniture like throw blankets, some even laying on the floor. You consider checking one’s pulse until he twitches and lets out a muffled groan. Clearly high on something, you’re just not sure what. You nearly trip over one person and they actually hiss at you like some kind of feral cat. Your skin starts to crawl with every step you take. Even more important than your discomfort, though, is finding Dieter. What if he’s like this, too? Do you need to call someone?

You notice a dull ache starting in your gums as you make it to the kitchen–thankfully you’re familiar with his home, and you have a glass of water in your hands within no time. It seems that no matter how much you drink, though, that coppery-bloody taste never leaves your mouth. What the hell was that stuff?

There’s a short-haired blonde woman propped up against the wall underneath the mounted phone; she reaches out a lazy hand in some sort of greeting. She looks vaguely familiar, like someone you might’ve seen on the set of one of Dieter’s films.

“You made it!” She says with a lazy smile. She must be the woman you spoke to earlier, although you’re not sure how she can identify you.

“Yeah. Where’s Dieter?” The longer you’re here, the more worried you become. Something isn’t right, and your skin is prickling with apprehension.

“Upstairs,” she murmurs, then her eyes flutter shut and she slumps a little further down. She’s visibly breathing, at least. 

For a moment, you consider picking up the phone and ringing the police. Would that cause more harm than good? Dieter must be aware of what’s going on here–you know you should talk to him before you do anything.

Your mission to find your planner momentarily forgotten, you make your way through the living room towards the stairs.

You check the office at the top first–there’s a few bodies zonked out on the couch, but none of them are Dieter. With trepidation in your very soul, you make your way down the hall. Each room is more of the same–people in varying states of unrest, no sign of the man you’re looking for. Most of them have red-stained lips and you eye more than one smashed glass along your journey. Your own mouth is starting to get alarmingly sore, but you ignore it in favor of finding Dieter.

Each step you take drives your worries deeper into your skull. What if something’s happened to him? What if he’s knocked out like all of his guests, or hurt, or something worse?

This is the first time you’ve breached the bubble of his bedroom. None of your work has ever involved this room, and while you’re a naturally nosey type of person, there’s something deeply personal and sacred about the space someone sleeps in. 

Ignoring the steady throbbing in your gums, you knock once before pushing open the door.

Dieter’s alone in his room, sprawled out like a starfish in a sea of rumpled sheets at the center of his massive bed. Something akin to a groan of horror escapes your throat as you see the state he’s in. He’s paler than a corpse and drenched in sweat, chest barely rising and falling with breath.

For a moment, you’re frozen in place. Your entire body breaks out in a cold sweat as you notice the knife in his right hand and the deep gash in the crook of his left arm, right where an IV would normally be set. You can smell the blood draining from him, you can even taste it in the air–or maybe that’s just the lingering taste of whatever you drank downstairs.

Your stomach churns violently with the sudden realization of what you’ve done, of what you’ve drank.

“Dieter!” You manage to choke out while your brain tries to remember how to send the signals required for your body to fucking move. 

He lifts his head shakily, brown eyes widening after a long moment of trying to recognize the face he’s looking at. “No no no,” he whispers hoarsely, “you’re not supposed t-to be here. You’re.. y-you’re supposed to be a-at home.”

A sharp, shattering pain in your top gum snaps your brain back into action. In a flash you’re crawling across a seemingly endless desert of mattress and it feels like you’ll never reach him. Everything is moving so slowly–each movement seems to take a hundred times the effort it should.

You spit out a mouthful of blood as the pain heightens, barely registering the two upper canines that go with it.

“What the fuck have you done?” You sob, uselessly pawing at his slashed left arm. It’s a precise cut straight across the artery–your hands are sticky and soaked with red the moment you touch him. Pressure, your brain screams at you. Put pressure on the wound.

“A real artist must suffer,” he mumbles weakly–then, even quieter, “I didn’t want to be alone anymore.”

“You’re dying.” Your voice doesn’t sound like your own anymore. It’s higher, breathier. 

“You drank it, d-didn’t you?” He asks, ignoring your statement. His distant eyes are trained on the sharp fangs that have pushed your canines out. “Fuck. Fuck! You were n-never supposed to…”

“Shut up, shut up,” you plead. Every shaky breath seems to cost him years. “How do I fix this? How do I fix you?”

“Thirsty,” he mumbles. There’s water on the sideboard, your brain reminds you. You don’t even remember bringing the glass with you, much less setting it down. Everything is so fuzzy. Your arm doesn’t move nearly as fast as it should when you reach for the glass, and Dieter’s hand weakly comes up to stop you.

“Not water,” he croaks. “Need… need…”

He can’t seem to form the words required to tell you what he needs. He doesn’t have to, though. You know.

“You’re not dying on me, Bravo.” You take the knife from his slack right hand before he can stop you and grit your sore teeth together as you slash it across your palm.

“N-no, don’t…” But he doesn’t resist as you hold your bleeding palm to his mouth. His empty eyes flash back to life with the first taste, and then he takes your hand in his own and drinks greedily. You watch with nothing short of disbelief as the cut on his arm seals itself right before your eyes.

“You were supposed to stay away from this,” he murmurs as his tongue sweeps across your palm. “Why the fuck are you here, baby?”

You don’t even remember anymore. Everything is hazy, everything hurts. It’s a chore just to keep your eyes open.

“Damn it,” he growls–pushing your hand away from his blood-smeared mouth seems to take all his willpower. “I never wanted this for you.”

“It’s okay,” you murmur as you slump down against his sheets. They’re so soft and light, and you want to cocoon yourself in them for the rest of time. “It’s just a dream.”

“Why’d you have to come save me? Huh?” His voice sounds so far away that you’re not even sure he’s really speaking. 

“I love you.” It’s okay to say that, because he’ll never actually find out. It’s just a dream, after all; you’ll wake up in the morning confused but totally okay.

“You were never supposed to,” his voice echoes from some plain of existence far, far away. “Damn it honey, stay awake just a minute longer.”

You try, but your eyes are so heavy. He sighs heavily, as if he knows it’s useless.

“Promise you’ll still love me when you wake up,” he pleads through the tunnel that separates you.

Nodding saps the last of your strength, so you let your eyes flutter closed. “Okay.”

You feel his lips against yours and his coppery kiss nearly brings you back from the verge of sleep. In the end, though, your throbbing head wins. Sleep takes hold quickly despite your feeble resistance. 

How strange it is to fall asleep in a dream.

➔ beta: @schnarfer and @futuraa-free thank you my lovelies <3

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[relevant-wikipedia-articles]

Someone sent an ask looking for toki pona learning resources, so here's some that I use/used:

1) The ma pona pi toki pona Discord server. There's also a server dedicated to learning, but I found out about it after it would be useful to me, so I never really used it

2) jan Misali's 12 days of toki pona. It has some wrong information, but there's a corrections command in mpptp

3) toki pona in 76 lessons. I honestly wish I used this more. It's great for refreshers, plus I love pdfs

4) toki pona cheat sheet. Pretty self-explanatory

5) jan Misali's toki pona lessons (his updated toki pona lessons)

6) The reccomended learning resources. Honestly, I didn't spend a lot of time here, but I'm sure there's lots of good stuff here that I missed

The ask was all caps, so which is why I'm not answering it directly. To be fair, my request was only one paragraph in a seven paragraph pinned post. I edited my description thingy so hopefully it's harder to not notice

[blakesdoggo]

ma babies :3

Im prob gonna work on their ref sheets first then start the comic but before starting the comic ima work on my discord server!!

[kazsas]

seventeen + tipos de romance

oii👋 aqui é a kaz!

tava pensando esses tempos sobre os tipos de romance que existem e como alguns se encaixavam tão bem com os meninos, e aí saiu esses scenarios.

정한

o Hannie é muito enemies to lovers (não só pelo fato dele ser um pestinha), passa muito a vibe do cara bonito do ensino médio que geral tinha crush e você a mina que dizia que ele não tinha nada pra oferecer além de um rostinho bonito.

에스쿱스

Cheol é o amigo do seu irmão mais velho que você cresceu tendo uma quedinha, mas era medrosa demais pra falar algo (mas ele já sabia esse tempo todo).

조슈아

o filho do pastor que toca violão na banda da igreja, menino de ouro que nunca faria algo de errado, somente dar umas escapadinhas no final do culto pra roubar uns beijinhos nos fundos da igreja.

준

seu admirador secreto do ensino médio que te mandava correio elegante em todas as festas da escola, se declarou na formatura e fugiu sem esperar a sua resposta (foi se lamentar pros amigos).

호시

seu melhor amigo de infância que te beijou bêbado na festa do fim de ano, chorou logo em seguida porque pensou que estragou a amizade e acordou no outro dia perguntando se podia postar no insta que vocês estavam casados.

원우

o carinha engraçado que conheceu no lol e te convidou pro server do discord dele, te chamava toda noite pra uma party para poderem dar rage quit juntos e isso evoluiu pra um relacionamento a distância recheado de lofis e ódio por todos que jogam de yasuo.

우지

crush da academia que você adora fingir não saber fazer um exercício pra ele vir te ajudar (e funciona!!), depois de algumas semanas investindo na mentira finalmente conseguiu o levar pro cantinho do vestiário e ganhar uns beijinhos.

도겸

o filho da vizinha que sempre te chamava pra brincar de pega-pega, comer bolinho de chuva de tarde enquanto assiste algum filme da sessão da tarde; foi o seu primeiro beijo e amor.

민규

relacionamento criado para gerar marketing pro próximo dorama que vocês vão atuar como casal, de repente as cenas de beijo não eram mais tão técnicas assim...

디에잇

te conheceu enquanto procurava um apartamento pra dividir enquanto termina o curso de artes cênicas, não tinha a menor intenção de fazer o relacionamento de vocês ser algo além de amizade + divisão das despesas mas o coração vacilou muito quando você pediu pra ele te ensinar a pintar.

승관

sua sobrinha que é apaixonada no "tio boo" da creche, até você o conhecer um dia e acabar se apaixonando também pela risada alta, piadas inteligentes e o carinho que ele tem com as crianças

버논

o carinha do departamento de música da sua faculdade que sempre fica encarregado do som nos rolês universitários e é o primeiro a querer ir embora, te achou bonitinha e chamou pra ir em um show da banda dele ("não é uma banda, a gente faz uns raps sabe? algo mais underground"), e você foi porquê, afinal, o que podia dar errado?

디노

o menino do seu bairro que era 2 anos mais novo e JURAVA que ia se casar com você quando fosse mais velho, não desistiu do sonho até o dia que te convenceu a dar um selinho no aniversário dele de 20 anos (e 3 meses depois te convencia que não era uma pedo por aceitar namorar com ele).

muito obrigado por ter lido até aqui!! correções, elogios, xingamentos, sugestões, ameaças, etc podem ser postadas nos comentários.