#forest mak

[kpop-bbg]

[harri-etvane]

Angsty sentence starters: #17

Vova/Maks

<3

"Tell me what I can do to make you stay?"

Vova's voice is soft in the darkness of the tiny bedroom, one hand idly running through Maksym's short dark hair, thumb tracing a slow circle against the other man's temple. His question is patient, but there is a shard of need that runs through it, savagely glittering in the faint light.

He cannot imagine facing this, all this - without Maksym by his side. The thought is terrifying in its enormity.

Maksym swallows, reaching up and linking his fingers with Volodymyr's free hand.

"Tell my commanding officer I don't need to be rotated out. Tell him I don't need-- I don't want a break.."

Vova shifts a little, sighs and Maksym looks up at him from where he lies, his head in Vova's lap.

"Want and need are two different things, love."

"I need you.. to be with you."

"Yes- but you need a break, too." His own exhaustion is mundane now, everyday - he can push it to one side - but he knows that Maks feels it too, even if he doesn't wear it in the same ways and Vova cannot be the one to drag him to the limits of what he can endure.

"Come away, with me?" Maksym blurts it out, the thought ridiculous really; the idea that Vova could, would even, drop everything - the country, his people - just to go away for a while.

Volodymyr laughs, soft and sad, and regret circles in Maksym's stomach then, hating the sadness that he has called up. Vova's voice is ever quieter as he sits in the dark, confronted again with the enormity of this struggle.

"Maybe some other time."

[ilyzuko]

🚬😶

[littleapplle]

let's make this bed get squeaky!

after an unexpected wanderer attack, you show rafayel how fun it is to be a girl. - 2.9k w. - not proofread.

cw.: fem!rafayel, very implied fem!reader (srry!!) feminization (if you squint), raf isn't a woman but does get turned into one temporarily, porn with a bit of plot, nipple play, worshipping (if you squint), face sitting, so cunnilingus, 69, scissoring? humping... something in between idk... kinda subby raf too... self indulgence. alot of that. i'm the pervert here.

note: this was vv inspired by this art by @.beechu-beechu !! one of my fav artists here on tumblr and twt, pls check their work out!! <3 as soon as i saw fem!raf my brain MELTED. also this was a bit rushed, sorryyy !!><

“Love, you don’t have to freak out! The Hunter Association will find a way to revert it in no time. Relax!” — To be honest, you were too calm about it.

“Relax!? How am i supposed to- Oh, my bodyguard failed to save me from this catastrophe and now i have to pay the price with my beautiful body!” Rafayel cries in response, his voice far too dramatic and feminine.

And what has really happened? Well, a few hours ago. you and your boyfriend went out for an outdoor date in the middle of a small forest in Linkon City so Rafayel could, maybe, find inspiration for his next work.

It just so happened that the area you both decided to visit was a dead zone, your hunter watch was malfunctioning and did not warn you the area had wanderers nearby. Luckily, you were still in your hunter uniform and armed so it should be no biggie. The wanderer, a small creature you’ve never seen in any of your missions, had its back covered in pinkish spores that once Rafayel shouted out for you, exploded on his face, making him cough for air.

Wanderer defeated and your lover safe, you’re left with an… unique form of Rafayel.

“...Rafayel?” You call out for him cautiously, worried for his safety while waving your way through a cloud of pink dust.

To a few choked coughs, your ears perk. You’re alone with Rafayel but it’s not his voice you hear. Or so you thought.

The mist slowly dissipates in the air, and you’re finally able to see more than just the shape of his body choking for air dramatically. With narrowed eyes and a hand covering your mouth and nose – still concerned the mysterious dust is toxic – you call out his name once more before a gasp escapes your throat.

“Rafayel…? Wha- what is wrong with you?!” Comes out a little too harsh but your shock is genuine. Was this caused by the wanderer? Offended, he is quick to frown and bite back. “Wow cutie, i get seriously attacked and the first thing you ask me is that? What a great bodyguard i have! How can i file a complaint?” 

“That’s not what i meant!-” You stutter, “Uhm…” struggling with your words and confusion bubbling in your system, you move your hands to your boobs, trying to move his gaze down to his chest. Oh. Oh. His blouse did feel a bit tighter after all.

“What the fuck?!” 

Yeah�� you’re sure that he spooked every single animal in the little forest with his scream.

Back to the present, you find yourself back in Rafayel’s home, trying to convince your boyfriend that being transformed into a woman by a wanderer isn’t the end of the world and that yes, it is temporary. 

“Raf, you’re gonna be fine. I heard Tara say something about a new type of wanderer lurking around earlier this week. We’re gonna find a way to turn you back, m’kay? You assure with more confidence now that your confusion over the situation has dissipated completely.

To your words he — she — does not answer, too busy sulking while staring at his new face in the pocket mirror you carry in your bag. 

“Besides… you’re quite the pretty girl, raf.” The sweet giggle that escapes your lips makes him frown.

 “Can you quit bullying me? Those cheap journalists are never going to shut up if they see me like this!” Rafayel cries. “I wanted to have a nice day out with you. ow… can’t have a single normal day in this city.”

That makes your ears perk and your body scoots closer to his form on the couch. You rest your head on his shoulder after kissing his puffy cheek. “Aww! ‘S no biggie, baby. We can still have fun indoors. I’ll just have to show you how fun it is to be a girl.”

You spend the day doing things you’d already do with him while enjoying quality time together but with some additional goodies. His purple hair is so long now and even softer! You take your time brushing it, massaging your nails on the scalp before trying multiple hairstyles.

Pigtails, buns, fishtail braids, boxer braids, ponytails… oh, you’ve tried every. single. one. Which he can’t really complain about! Who doesn’t love having their hair played with?

Rafayel is already used to the next activity, so he doesn’t even bat an eye when you ask him where he placed the nail polishes you bought a few months ago. 

“Pick a color baby!” You chirp, holding the tiny bottles in your hands. 

He does just that. Picking a lilac shade and offering his cold hands to you, Rafayel scoots closer to you on the couch. “You’re enjoying this too much.” He points out.

For a moment, you don’t answer, busy with the tiny brush between your fingers and trying not to smudge the milky paint in his short nails. “Hmmm maybe i am.” You giggle, “Can you blame me though?” 

It’s his turn to not answer, he thinks he’d sound too petty if he did. Rafayel loves the pampering, and even though he’d rather drown in the deepest and darkest waters of his long forgotten home than to admit this right now, he’s obsessed with you showering him in affection. Nothing is new, you’re sweet as ever and like a sea sponge, he absorbs all he can happily. 

Rafayel isn’t an insecure man, especially with his body. He knows he was sculpted by the seas with care and passion, born with the body of a god, something worthy of unending worship. So you eyeing him up and down was never a problem, but now? Oh, he feels small, he wants to dig up a hole on the hot sand and stay there for eternity, accompanied by the sand crabs.

Shame is a feeling he’s no longer used to and hates the taste of, he notes.

Noticing his silence, you put the brush down to look at him. 

“You okay, raf?” Genuine, innocent concern. 

“It hurts.” Puffing his cheeks, he frowns and closes his eyes.

“What hurts? Are your wrists sore agai-” — “No! Not that.” Rafayel whines, peeking at you through his long(er) lashes.

“Well, i’m not in the mood to play guess with you, fishie.” Arching a brow at his dramatic discomfort, you chuckle as he whines once more, “Heavens- they’re sore!”

And you have to bite your lip to not burst into laughter. Having the pleasure of seeing Rafayel, usually confident and sharp with his words, blushing like a literal girl was truly a sight you’d never thought you had to see.

“Your boobs?-” — “Don’t say it like that!” You swear that the big and tall windows of his home could’ve shattered in an instant with his horrified scream. 

“Awww, babyyy! Don’t be shy! We’ve all been through that, ‘s just part of girlhood!” You poke his cheek, aiming to tease him just a little more. Leaning in closer, you sit on his plump thighs.

Oh and he looks so done. 

“Stop acting like i’m a woman!-” He basically cries out in embarrassment.

“Oh but you are!” Interrupting him, you continue, “And as your girlfriend, and girl best friend, i’ll help you with your girl problems, raffy-”

“I’ll spit bubbles on you!” Rafayel interrupts back and you finally break down laughing on his lap.

Rafayel swears to himself that he wants to bite your head off so you stop teasing him, he hates how he can feel the tip of his pale ears get warmer each second and something inside him growing hotter. He’d bury your face on hot sand right now and yet he doesn’t move you from his lap.

As your laughter settles and you breathe in to calm down, you place a kiss on his burning cheek. A silent apology. “Seriously though, you’ve turned out to be quite… busty!” You giggle but continue before he can throw a fit again, “Can i massage you baby? Would you let me do that f’you, raf?” Whispering against his cheek, you nuzzle the bridge of your nose on his skin.

He just nods, still frowning in shame and with eyes closed shut. 

Your fingers trace his collarbones in sickly light touches, hands snaking down to the foreign feeling on his chest. 

He shivers and twitches under you once your hands cup his tits through his white blouse, the absence of a bra making your touch feel a little too intimate for his already overwhelmed brain. Your fingers feel him in circular motions, gently applying pressure to where his nipples take place.

Rafayel squirms, throwing his head back and trying to hide his face in his long, purple hair. “You’re so responsive, baby.” You coo, purposefully brushing your thumbs on his nipples, which ignites a yelp from his tight throat. 

The sensitive pebbles grow hard not so long later, making themselves visible under his light shirt. He curses you in his mind, the innocent and sweet way you talk to him could get him going anytime. Rafayel bites his glossy lip hard. 

Fidgeting with the collar of his shirt, you give him your sweetest smile. “Your body hasn’t changed at all baby. You still melt down when you have your chest played with.” You lean in, closing the space between you two and press a kiss on his trembling lips. “The only difference here is that you’re the prettiest,” kiss, “most whiny,” another kiss, “and cutest girl i’ve ever laid my eyes on.” and a last peck to seal your words like a spell.

Your lips leave his but the phantom sensation of your mouth against his stays. Your lips find home on his jawline, placing featherlight kisses on the milky white skin. 

“Can i take this off, raf? I might need a more serious inspection if you’re sore like that, hm?” Pinched by your fingers, the first button of his blouse comes undone, exposing more of his cleavage. “Y-yes.” Is all Rafayel answers, not much more than a shy whisper.

And that is the only sign you need to keep going. Your hands work gently but still eager to finish the job and reveal what’s under the expensive fabric. He helps you with the sleeves, accepting his fate and that even if he tried to shy away and hide, you wouldn’t let him. And how could you? Not now. Not when his perfect, spotless skin is exposed to the cool air of the living room, the sea breeze guided inside by the open windows making his nipples react at the temperature and stand tall.

Your lips, never far from his neck, kiss down his collarbones and the fat of his tits. His reactions are exactly what you’d expect, low whines and nonstop squirming under your touch. With open mouthed kisses to his areola, a cute light brown you note, you’re quick to give his nipple a playful lick, igniting a squeak from him. 

“D-don’t- do that-!” Rafaye’sl protests are ignored by your ears, while your lips suck on the sensitive pebble, your fingers pinch the other one, rolling it gently yet teasingly between your thumb and index finger.

Pop! – Is the sound your mouth makes as you let go. “Fuck..”, you eye him with hunger, and even though his eyes are squeezed shut, he seems to notice by your silence. “Stop staring. You’re ridiculous.” Of course he has to try and bite back.

“Am i now?” You kiss the corner of his lips, interrupting any petty answer he was about to give you. “Shit- need you to sit on my face. Can you do that f’me, baby? Please?” 

Rafayel feels like a virgin again, the foreign, weird and achy feeling between his legs makes his brain foggy. He wants to say no and shy away, spit a thousand bubbles at your face as he promised but he just can’t.

Which doesn’t mean he won’t freak out anyway. 

“N-no! That isn’t even your thing- i’m like, twice your size-” Before he can continue his protests, you’re already lying on your back on the big couch of his living room. “Please? Jus’ wanna let my girlfriend know how good it feels, mhm?” It is your turn to whine, beg.

He stares at you in horror but the pathetic look you give him wins. He kicks his pants and boxers off but his judgemental stare doesn’t falter. You can’t help but moan at the sight of his new, bare body. 

Rafayel was surely the prettiest man you’ve ever laid your eyes on and now, prettiest woman too. He sits on your lap, facing you, testing the waters, hoping it’d be enough to quiet you down. “Closer, ‘fayel.” You urge.

This time he finally gives in with no complaints, shifting on your lap and closer to your shoulders. There, he turns on his back, hovering on top of your face before you grab his plush hips and push him down impatiently.

“A-ah!- don’t just do that-” He mewls.

You taste Rafayel before you can’t even see how wet he is. Spreading his ass with both hands, you pepper his cunt with eager kisses. He trembles at the new feeling, squirming and accidentally grinding against your lips, only igniting more whines to leave his pretty lips.

Your head spins at his sounds, brain mushy with how submissive you could get him to behave, at how fucking hot he sounds and how good he tastes. 

Finally diving in, your lips suck on his folds gently while your hands, once on his ass, help his hips move against you for more constant stimulation. 

“Fu-uck!- Dun stop. Please.” Rafayel squeals before a tiny lightbulb lightens up on his head.

Rafayel leans down, trembling on top of you as he pulls down your shorts just enough so he can have access to your panties. He doesn’t take it off, doesn’t have the patience to, only pulls them to the side and greets your awaiting pussy with a kiss. 

In this whole mess, you didn’t even realize how your arousal started to build up during this whole time. Too busy with Rafayel, looking at Rafayel, teasing Rafayel. You’re sure that he — she — is the siren that will drag you to the bottom of the sea with pretty mewls and then consume you. 

As he should, you think. You’d die happily.

To the kitten licks on your clit, you shiver, parting your legs open to help him. “Getting- mgh- bold now, baby? Thought you’d let me do all the work.” Muffled by the weight on top of you, you tease anyway.

You don’t give him much space to speak, wrapping your lips around his clit and sucking at  a steady pace. You’re not able to see his reaction but his mouth lets go of your cunt, his lashes tremble and close shut in pleasure. “Gonna cum, rafe? Oh- mgh- y’er such a sweet girl, raf.” You praise sweetly. 

Rafayel really tries to keep up with you but with his mushy brain, his head only rests against your thigh while he moans lowly. His clit throbs on your tongue thanks to your gentle words, you laugh mockingly under him. “Fuck- dun’ like when i call you pretty girl  but your body tells me otherwise, love. You don’t get much from lying here, raf.”

Shut up. Is what he really wants to tell you, maybe flick your forehead and say all the petty things he can think of. His thighs shake violently and with another loud and melodic cry, Rafayel cums. 

You keep going for a little longer, kissing his folds and clit and sweet affection before a strangled whine makes you pull away. 

He helps himself out of your face, sitting on the couch with his head resting on a blue pillow with the face of someone who just came back from pound town. Rafayel doesn’t bat an eye when you manhandle him closer to your body.

His lips find yours in an instant, kissing you with need, like he just came out of the ocean for the first time and his lungs aren’t used to the summer breeze on the beach. He sucks on your tongue, swiping his own on your under lip in a sloppy kiss.

You two fight for space on the couch, now feeling a bit cramped. Rafayel’s legs tangle on yours messily and he finds himself on your lap once again, grinding and humping against you like this is exactly where he was meant to be. Smiling on his mouth, you can’t help but tease him. 

“Insatiable much? Pretty girl can’t take her hands off me hm?” You chuckle but are quickly interrupted, moaning loudly when his clit accidentally bumps on yours, which Rafayel takes advantage of.

And you let him, your only guidance being the phantom touch of your hands on his waist. “You can’t really ever keep your mouth shut, can you?” He sighs, “Not near you, ever.” 

You’re quick to cum too, with hitched breath and hips buckling under his in search of more stimulation, any moans are silenced by his lips insistently glued to yours.

Noticing your body melting on the couch cushions, Rafayel lets himself relax on top of you, too. With a last kiss to your neck, he buries his face on your shoulder blade.

“I’ll file a report about what happened later, m’kay? Dun stress.” — “Hmmm.” Is all he’s able to answer while your free hand massages his scalp, slowly drifting him off to sleep.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ reblogs are very much appreciated. thank you for reading! (*´▽`*)

[captainlondonman]

Workie Cruising

Kenny was feeling horny, really horny. One of those hot days when your cock just gets hard and needs some attention. He could always have a good slow wank and watch his cum spray over the washbasin but better still would be to walk down the road to the local forest which was at times a great cruising ground and see who he might have some sex with. Yeah that was definitely a better idea. With his cock nicely stretched down his inside leg forming a decent bulge, it was on full show for whoever he might meet. As he reached the edge of the wood an old white van was parked in the layby. 

‘So at least someone is there looking ‘Kenny thought.

As he came into a small clearing he saw the driver of the van. It was a workie is full yellow HiViz, T shirt, soiled waistcoat, very dirty trousers tucked into mud covered boots. The guy was tall and built like a brick shithouse, tattoos covering both arms, shaved head with a tight beard and  the beginnings of an obvious beer belly pushing out the T shirt which was lifted at the front to show off a dark thick hairy chest. The guy looked very unclean to Kenny, not his type at all. Even when the workie put his large hand down to stroke his crotch showing off a big bulge, Kenny decided to walk on by and see who else might be better for his wank. The workie gave him a V sign and spat. Kenny thought he could get his rocks off with someone else but it would not be with him.

Moving on he came to another small clearing and remembered this was normally a good place where the guys came to shoot their load so he could wait there away from the workie. As he quietly stood there waiting for a pick up, a large tattooed came round his neck almost choking him.

‘What the f.. ‘Kenny tried to shout

‘What the fuck do you think ignoring me and trying to make me look as if I am a bit of shit. ‘The workie tightened his grip. Kenny knew exactly who it was as he felt the HiViz clothing press against his back

Christ the guy stank of body odour, dirt and stale smoke. Kenny wanted to gag but was unable to move or respond by the neck lock he was in. He felt the guy’s beard rub against the side of his face

‘You don’t pass a fucking workie especially when that workie is feeling horny and needing a blow job. Who the fuck do you think you are? A smarmy college kid sporting a decent hard on down his jeans. Well this guy has a bigger one than you mate. Feel it rubbing against that arse of yours?’

As the workie said it, Kenny felt the stiff prick rubbing against him. Shit he was right it was rock hard and big . With his head still in a stranglehold Kenny felt the workie’s other arm move round to his front and slide down to his crotch.

‘I may be almost choking the life out of you but that cock is telling me you love it. Nice and stiff like a fucking rod. Bet you are loving my cock in the HiViz nylon rubbing against you.’

As the workie said this he lessened the grip around Kenny’s throat, causing him to cough loudly and as he took in deep breaths so he still smelt the guy with his mix of stale cigarette smoke and dirt.

‘ou need to open the throat a bit more so you can take my cock all the way down that throat of yours. ‘

Feeling the guy whisper into his ear with the rough beard rubbing against the side of the face made Kenny feel so horny in spite of the fact he had nothing but distaste for the workie. To Kenny he was a pig but shit why was he feeling so excited.

Now get down of your fucking knees and take a good look at that bulge of mine in the Hi Viz.’

As Kenny knelt his face was looking straight at an enormous prick sticking almost straight out of the yellow nylon.

‘Go on give me a fucking rub as I like me cock being rubbed in my hiViz.’

Kenny could only obey but wanted more than ever to unzip and put his hand inside.

‘Well what are you waiting for. Unzip and see my piece of meat.’

As Kenny looked straight at the guy’s crotch and let his hand pull down the zip with difficulty due to the hard bulge his cock was making  he almost reeled back with the smell of stale piss and dried spunk. He wanted to gag and as he brought his head back the workie took hold and rammed his head against the yellow nylon.

‘Don’t you like the way my cock smells. It’s the way we workies are. No underwear so a nice exposed prick whenever we let the piss run down inside our legs and the drops of cum harden nicely. I ain’t washed for a few days so it’s nice and high for you. Take a few deep breaths and enjoy the smell, real workie stink.’

At first Kenny thought he was going to be sick but the more he inhaled the better the smell it was to the point that he was relishing it and his own cock was made more rigid. The fumes of the stale cock spread down through his body, taking over the clean air. He had to get that monster of a cock out of the HiViz and stuck his hand in and let it grip the shaft. He could hardly get his hand around it and he could feel the throbbing veins. With both hands he pulled it out and released it, the cock springing upwards so he could see the underside and the red glistening head exposed from the foreskin. The tip already had a good drop of precum and all Kenny wanted to do was lick that drop and taste the cum and the dirt of the cock.

‘Not bad eh. Us workies have big pricks and always ready for a blow job or a fuck. Always best done in HiVIz. I can see from your face that you love the smell as well as the size of my dick. It’s gonna be even better when down that throat of yours. Quit any idea of gagging, you just breathe deeply and as my cock ain’t been washed for days you have that stink to help. Now get a grip and start.’

Kenny put his hand around the shaft and leant forwards to lick the precum. As he swallowed so he got as much saliva into his mouth so the shaft could have some spit to ease it down. He let his tongue work the throbbing head and allow himself to savour the smell and size..

‘Shit man that tongue of yours has been round a few dicks in its time. I ain’t got all day , got to get back to work so let me feel the back of your throat.’

 As Kenny let more and more of the cock into his mouth so the workie grabbed hold of his head and started pressuring Kenny to take more and more. Instinctively with the soiled cock and the stench , his mouth opened as he wanted to devour the workie’s prick. His mouth opened as never before and the more pressure on his head by the workie the more the shaft vanished further and further down the back of his throat.. 

I wanna feel my pubes against your lips so keep going boy. Remember my cock is not staying put down your throat I want you to move it in and out and slowly at first so I get the full sensation. You will know when I am ready as I will be forcing your head back and forwards. Keep the spit going.’

‘Shit man you have my cock juice building up.’

 With that the workie took and full grip of Kenny’s head and started moving it back and forth at first slowly and then faster and faster. Kenny wanted every inch down his throat and could feel the guy’s cock now throbbing so hard he was close to coming.

‘I want you to swallow every last drop, Know what it’s like to take a workies spunk. That’s it ,fucking take the whole bloody length. Let it spurt all the way down that throat of yours right to the pit of the stomach.’

With one final push the workie shouted ‘Fuckin hell’  and his spunk roared out in waves of thick creamy cum with Kenny desperately trying to swallow as much as he could. It was too much to take and the cum started to run down his chin and onto his shirt. He wanted every last drop but the workie had too much spunk to swallow.

‘Bloody hell mate you suck like a real pro. The workie pushed Kenny back and thrust his still dripping cock back into his Hi Viz.

‘Any left over can run down my leg ‘he said. ‘Now stand up and let’s see you. Clearly it was too much for you to take though you did well. Its’ all the way down your chin and onto your shirt.’

‘Christ how am I gonna get home?’ Kenny said.

‘No probs mate. Take this HiViz waistcoat of mine and put it on. It will cover the cum marks. I’ve got plenty of HI Viz. Go on put it on and then a bit of me goes with you. Well for someone who turned up his nose at a workie you have managed well and now even are wearing a HiViz. Makes me fucking laugh. My name’s Don and you?’

‘Kenny’

‘Well now bugger off Kenny as I have to get back to doing some work. Drains today.’

As Kenny walked home making sure the HiViz was covering all the cum marks on his shirt all he could think of was the smell. Was it the waistcoat, the cum or just being with the bloke. The first thing he did on getting back was to strip off and get in to the shower to totally clean himself, using the strongest shower gel he had. When he got out the shower he realised that the gel had made little difference He could still smell the workie as if he was as bad. Still some BO,  still dirt still piss and cum. It would not wash away. For some unknown reason rather than put on of  his clothes he put the HiViz waistcoat back on. Putting it one he immediately felt that he needed a ciggie and can of beer. But he didn’t smoke and hardly drank beer but now it was a must. He needed to light up and let the ciggie smoke deep into his lungs. Noticing a small bulge in the pocket of the HiViz he put his hand and took out a packet of cigarettes and box of matches. How could they be there when all he wanted to do was smoke. He then opened the fridge and took out a can of beer that had been lying around for ages. Now he had the ciggie and the beer and it was what he wanted. Sitting on his sofa with his legs apart he looked down at his body. There was a change, but how. His legs seemed more hairy not a lot but definitely more and the hair from his pubes was now up past his belly. Again not a lot but he had never had hair there before. But his belly looked bigger. He had always been so careful with his diet but now the skin looked slightly flabby. Little tufts were sprouting out around d his nipples. Part of Kenny was surprised but for now he wanted only to light up and open that can.

He opened the can first and took and large swig and put it down to light up his first ciggie. But the way he lit up and put the ciggie into his mouth it was as if he had been doing it for years. As the smoke moved down into his lungs he felt the smoke take over his body. Another deep draw and he felt his cock stirring. His cock looked a bit bigger and he watched it grow rigid as he took another smoke.

The cigarette was making him not just hard but horny.

I need to good wank he said to himself. Putting his hand around his shaft he leant back in the sofa with his legs wide apart and the other hand held the ciggie.

Fucking hell a wank with a fag not bad. Don’t know why I haven’t done this before. It feels bloody great wearing the HIViz. With every draw on the fag his hand moved up and down his shaft quicker and quicker. With his final draw and the smoke enveloping his whole body he threw his head back and shouted 

‘Fuck me’ as the cum shot out in a long arc all the way up his chest, great globs of white spunk all the way up to the top of his chest.

Stubbing the ciggie out he took both his hands and rubbed the spunk into his chest.

‘No point in cleaning this up might as well it harden into my skin and make me smell a bit more.’

‘Shit I feel so fucking tired. But I need another fag after that and finish the beer first.’

After that he went to be still wearing the HiViz.

When he work up next morning he could sense the stench of dried cum of stale cigarette smoke and a couple of empty cans of beer. There were two butts in the dish,. Christ I must have woken up and had another he though unable to remember. All I know is that I need another fag now. When he went to get dressed he found that his shirt seemed too tight and he was hardly able to fasten up his chinos. Odd they fitted yesterday but his gut seemed even bigger than last night. The only things he could put on were his jogging suit with the elasticated waist. As he lit up again he looked at his hand and he could see it was now nicotined stained and the back of his hand was definitely hairier but he couldn’t care. However he was feeling horny again and could see his cock growing inside his joggers starting to make a large bulge.

‘Shit I can’t go out like this but I need to get up to the cruising wood again. He put on the HiViz waistcoat to help cover up his bulge as reached the entrance to the wood. The same white van was there, but parked along side it was a smart sports car. As he walked into the cruising ground the owner of the sports car was standing looking at Kenny. He was in his mid 20s tall, gym trained and good looking. He let his hand down to rub his crotch . He was exactly the type that Kenny went for but that was yesterday. Today he wanted to be dirty to be with a workie who stank, who smoked and who had a thick cock. Passing by the guy he just stared and walked on to the clearing he had been at yesterday. Standing against the tree was Don in the same HiViz but another waistcoat smoking a fag.

‘Thought you might be back. Don’t suppose I’m gonna get my waistcoat back. You might as well keep it ,looks as if it suits you. Wanna a smoke?’

‘Sure ‘Kenny replied going up to the workie. Don handed over the lit ciggie.

‘You had my cock in yer mouth yesterday now you have me ciggie. Looks as if you like a bit of me.’ 

As he said this he put an arm round Kenny and pulled him in letting ghis hand firmly stroke Kenny’s bum and bring their faces close to.

‘You smell as good as me. Stale smoke and beer. Do I smell dried cum on you?’

And with that he put his other arm up Kenny’s jogging top and let his hand explore the dried cum chest.

‘Fuck that was a good wank you had, plenty of cum there what a waste but it sure gives you a smell. Looks as if you want some of me and feeling that nice round arse of yours makes me in need of a fuck.’

 Kenny could feel the workies rock hard cock pressing against how own

‘ I ain’t got much time but I’m not leaving till you have had some spunk up that arse of you.’

With that the workie held back Kenny waistband and let his hand travel down until his fingers were searching for Kenny’s hole.

‘Just want to check that hole of yours will take my cock.’ As he said this he started inserting finger after finger into the opening until he had 4 fingers fully in. ‘Shit man I could almost fist you but at least you have plenty of room for me inside you. Now turn round.’

 As he pulled down the back of the joggers so the workie unzipped himself and took out his hard cock.

‘I ain’t washed since yesterday so me dick stinks of my cum and your spit. Great ain’t it? Now bend over a bit while I get some spit on me dick.’

Don let out a loud cough as he brought up a great gob of spit and then spat it over the long length of his shaft, rubbing in the thick spit.

‘A great gob there that’ll make it nice and easy to slip this cock of mine all the way up you.’

One of the workies arms grabbed the top of Kenny’s HI Viz and with the other he guided it to the hole and let the head rim in readiness to insert. As Kenny’s hole opened to take the cock he felt his muscles contract and let out a squeal of pain.

‘Relax mate and let those arse muscles of yours take me. Tell you what light up a ciggie from your HiViz. As Kenny lit up and took a deep breath of smoke into his lungs so his muscles relaxed and the workie started to press his cock further and further in.

‘What did I tell you. A ciggie always helps.’

Don brought both large hairy arms around Kenny and pulled himself in right up to the hilt as Kenny puffed more and more.

‘Don’t finish the fucking ciggie yet mate. Wait till I’ve had you.’

Kenny could feel his cock throbbing inside his trackies already showing a stain of precum. It was like having a bloody pole up his arse but what a fucking pole. He’d never had a cock that size before and decided he’d never have anything less again.

‘You are not the only one liking this mate. Look over there. We are being watched by that young toady. Got his cock out watching us. Still it’s you I am fucking and he can just wasted his spunk while lucky you get to have mine all the way up you.’

Having his prick up Kenny and watching the guy jack off made the workie even more horny. For Kenny seeing the bloke get ready to shoot his load and have this amazing piece of meat inside him was making him so geared up he was ready to come.

‘If that guy is anything like me we will all be coming at once. Now go on push in and out and let me feel right up inside you to me pubes. 

‘Go on fuck me harder and harder, ‘Kenny shouted knowing the young guy could hear him

‘Get all that fucking spunk into me. What a fucking huge cock you got. Fuck me rigid.’

Hearing this was too much for the workie who shot his load all the way into Kenny’s arse. At the same time Kenny’s cock exploded into his trackies the cum oozing out through the material. Both looked up in time to see the young guy, having heard the two of them spurt a great arc of cum through the air onto the ground in front of him.

‘Shit that was bloody great ‘the workie said ‘almost like a fucking threesome, but I wouldn’t touch that geezer with a bargepole. You Kenny are much more like me.’

‘And I feel more like you ‘Kenny replied. ‘How the hell do I get home this time. Yesterday my shirt was covered in your cum and today I have my own spunk all the way through my joggers.’

‘Well I fucking saved you yesterday and today I can do the same. Just as well I always carry spare gear. Come to the van and I have something for you.’

Kenny followed the workie back to his van . Don opened the passenger door and took out a pair of HiVz yellow heavy duty nylon trousers. Put those over your tackies for now. They may seem a bit big for now but don’t worry about that. While you are here take this.’ He picked up and plastic bag and handed it to Kenny.

‘At least you now have a bit more of the gear. No point in just having the waistcoat.’

‘How do I get all this back to you.’ Kenny asked

‘No probs mate see it as a gift. Anyway it looks good on you and you now look more like a decent dirty guy.’ 

‘Being dirty aint so bad.’

‘Thought youdd say that. Now off you go and enjoy the kit. I’ll see you soon enough.’

As Kenny walked home he could feel the heavy nylon rubbing against his trackies which was rubbing against his cum soaked body. He was now wearing the waistcoat and the trousers both stained with oil and mud. Anyone having a quick look at him would think he could be a workie. He looked inside the bag and saw a pair of well worn steel capped leather boots and inside them a pair of what looked like dirty yellow thick socks.

Christ what am I mean to do with them he thought and at the bottom of the bag were a pack of six beer cans and two packets of cigarettes. He still had a couple of ciggies in the other packet.

Lighting one up he walked back home inhaling deeply almost swaggering in. his HiViz gear feeling like a workie that had just been fucked and as he walked he could feel Don’s spunk beginning to ooze out into his trackies and from there into the HiViz trousers he was now wearing. When he got home he took the HIViz and trackies off then put just the Hiviz on. He could feel the left over cum sticking to the nylon but it felt good as he sat all evening in the gear with a ciggie in one hand and a beer in the other

In the morning when he woke up and reached out for the packet of fags he realised that he had gone to bed in the HiViz. Going for a pee as he unzipped to get his cock out the smell of piss and cum was strong but good. It was good to stink that like and why the hell wash when you could smell like that. He opened up the bag that the workie had given him and pulled out the socks. The reason they were yellow was because they had not been washed for ages and he could smell the sweaty feet that had worn them. He put them up to his nose and rubbed the socks over his face. The stench of cheese and dirt made his cock swell up in the HIViz.

‘Shit I’ll be having another wank if I keep smelling these. He put his feet into the socks with his big toe sticking through the holes. Then the heavy well used boots tucking the trousers into the tops. Kenny looked at himself in the mirror. At least facially he looked the same though his facial hair seemed stronger and he should have a shave but decided he liked it that way. However his arms looked bigger and more muscle and he chest was even hairier than the day before. His flabby waist line looked as if he had been on the beer for months and was almost hanging over the waistband but the HIViz was now a perfect fit. He wanted to go out but needed something to cover his chest so looking into the laundry basket he found a soiled T shirt that he had last played football in. However it was skin tight on him now and every time he moved it rode up at the front to show of a hairy belly. 

‘I look fucking great’ he thought to himself, giving his crotch an good rub. ‘Time to go and do some cruising.’ 

As he reached the layby Kenny saw two white vans parked next to one another. He recognised the one belonging to Don but not the other. At first he saw no one around looking for a quick wank and as he reached the clearing he saw Don standing talking to another workie both smoking. Not sure what to do he was about to turn back when Don noticed him and waved him to come over.

‘So Boss this is the guy I told you about, Kenny.’

‘Don has been telling me all about you what a stuck up sod you were the day he saw you , not wanting to give him ablow job because he is workie and like us all had a good dirty stench about him. Well it looks as if he has been working a bit of a change on you. I like what I see Don, well done but we have a bit of finishing off to do eh? So Kenny I have something here I am gonna put on you and you will like it especially when you get all the sensations coming your way.

The Boss took a black leather hood out of his HiViz jacket.

‘Now get this on.’

At first Kenny looked a bit nervous but he had always been turned on by videos of guys in leather hoods. You had to guess what they looked like and always looked like masters

He pulled it on over his head and realised there were no eyelets, just a small space for his nose and a slit for his mouth. It was all black and the smell of sweaty leather made his cock start to lengthen. The Boss pulled the zip down making it tight against his head.

The is the first zip we need to deal with . Feels good doesn’t it? Are you beginning to feel a bit different with it on and that smell of leather to inhale?’

‘Feels great. Don’t know what it is but definitely feeling a change. Tell you what Boss I could do with a ciggie.’

‘All in good time mate, Now let’s get the next zip open.’ 

And with that the Boss found the zip at the back of the HiViz trousers and pulled it down to reveal Kenny’s arse.

‘Nice bit of hair been developing over that arse of yours  Us workies love hairy arses don’t we Don. So when you bend down we can all see a good hairy slit. I can feel my cock getting nice and hard for you Kenny. Don says you are one of the best fucks he has had and if you can take a prick his size then you will manage mine.’

The Boss gave Kenny’s arse a good rub and let his fingers work through the hair to the hole. 

‘I can see you are nice and moist man. You knew what would be coming your way today. So Don you can do the third zip.’

‘Tell you what Boss ‘Don said ‘the guys gagging for it ,that cock of his is like a fucking pole, it will need a strong hand to get that cock.’

Don put his hand inside and grabbed the shaft and as it came through the nylon it sprang up.

‘Not just the hair on the arse Boss the guy’s cock has now gotten to a good thick size as well. He’s not washed that dick of his since we first met so it has a great stink of piss and cum. Just as I like cocks.’

‘You have done well with this one Don. Give the guy his ciggie now and light it up for him.’

Don lit up and put the ciggie through the leather slit into Kenny’s mouth. Now that is better.’

‘Christ am I ready to fuck this guy. The hood is turning me on and seeing that fag in his mouth is a turn on. I have a right boner needing to shoot.’

The Boss put his arms around Kenny and pressed his hard dick against Kenny’s arse. Suddenly Kenny knew what to expect and moved his arse out to meet the Boss’s wet head.

‘That’s it boy, hood or no hood your arse is waiting for me.. Now bend down a little so I can open up that hole and let myself in. Once I have my head in then stand up cause Don’s wanting to get that cock of yours down his throat..’

Kenny briefly took the ciggies out of his mouth. 

‘Shit I wish I could see that cock of yours boss but it sure feels an equal to Don’s and after yesterday my hole is ready to take a baseball bat so ram that son of a bitch all the way up to the hilt. Being fucked in full HiViz feeling all that yellow nylon and you ramming me from behind and Don taking my cock at the front is so fucking amazing.Shit man full Hiviz a tight leather hood and me stinking. Fucking great.’

‘Don’t worry you are getting the full length.’

As the Boss pushed his shaft fully in so Don leant forwards on his knees and gave a big gob of spit onto Kennys shaft. 

‘Getting it a bit greasy makes me swallow better for you. Can’t wait to get the stench down into my throat. Grabbing Kenny’s long thick pulsing dick Dom let his tongue rim the head, savouring the precum oozing out from the tip.

The Boss’s cock was now fully inside Kenny’s arse and Kenny needed to react and starting moving back and forwards to get the full sensation. As he moved his arse so it meant his cock went in and out of Don’s mouth the whole way down so Don could feel the pubes brushing against his face.

‘Fucking hell’ Kenny said,  ‘A workie back and front and a good fag in my mouth. It gets no better. No one does it better than a workie.’

 He knew he was near to coming so he pushed harder and harder quicker and quicker all the time inhaling as much smoke as he could. He wanted to have the Boss release his cum as he shot his loas down Don’s throat. By now Don had his own cock out and with one hand was rubbing quicker and quicker up  and down his shaft.

‘Christ you guys I ready.’

‘So are we.’ Both said.

‘Fuck’ Kenny shouted through gritted teeth the fag still in his mouth and the Boss shot wave after wave of cum all the way up Kenny’s arse. Kenny shot his load into Dom’s throat as Dom’s spunk spurted over Kenny’s boots, thick and white

As all three got their breath back so the Boss said.

‘Well Kenny it’s time to take that tight leather hood off you. Unzipping Kenny took the hood off and shook his head. His face felt different. Taking his hands to his face he realised that the sides of his head were fully shaved with a number 1 cut on the top. Also he had a thick 3 days growth of a beard

Shit man what’s happened?’ But now his voice sounded like a deep smokie northern.

 ‘What the fuck do you think. You were only too happy to take some of Don’s clothes, you got off with having the best sex with a workie and so now you are one and look like one. A fucking horny one too. A nice belly hanging over top of your trousers and if you look at your arms you will see they are like all of us, covered in some great tats. You are one of the lads now, a stinking workie. So what do you want now?’

‘A fucking ciggie of course.’ 

‘Reckon we all deserve one and back at the van a good can of beer before we head off to work down the drains.’

‘Coming Kenny?’

‘Sure thing Boss , can’t wait to get down those stinking drains but as long as we three have another session at the end of the day.’

‘That’s a promise Workie Kenny.’

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Hello. May I please ask for a request?

Fem reader introduce pete with the show called happy tree friends.

Colorful animals and lots of violence

Pete DiNunzio x fem!reader

warning : fluff, mention of violence

Summary : Stumbling across the colorful forest creatures on TV one day, the student knew she had to tell her boyfriend about it. Who would have thought that Pete could take such a liking to something so cute? Especially when everything was full of pink, sweet sugar and kindness before each brutal depiction.

info : Sure of course you can request it dear anon :) I hope you enjoy reading and thanks again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a normal school Friday, the bell had rung and all the students were heading to their last classes for the day.

The four nerds hadn't done anything else either, even if their attention was focused on completely different things.

Bill just wanted to go to his club room and rearrange it, Josh wanted to put his new Star Wars figures away, Jerry had got new cards, only Pete didn't quite know what to do.

He had just framed his new horror movie posters yesterday and made a maarthon, but now with the weekend what would he do?

Lost in his thoughts, he felt the nudge at his side and looked at a chair next to him, his friend's upturned smile came to him, behind the math book she had held out a piece of paper, “For us” she had whispered as much as she could and pretended to continue working as the teacher turned around.

Taking the piece of paper, he opened it and looked at the written sentences, the dark-haired man's smile growing bigger with every word.

His weekend was saved and without a club meeting just him and his girlfriend, it was going to be a bloody good meeting. It was only two hours before all the students ran out of the school, trying not to run over each other as they all got on the buses or cars that picked them up.

The boys had also said goodbye to each other and were all hurrying home, Pete and his girlfriend walking hand in hand on the short journey home, “So what's this show?” he asked impatiently, hardly able to wait until they were back home in his room.

But a glance to his side told him that she only had a smirk on her lips and didn't seem to say a word to him, “Wait and see,” she winked and pulled him faster behind her as they both arrived in front of his house after a quarter of an hour and quickly made themselves comfortable.

A little food, a little talk, cuddling on his bed until the time finally came when she reached for his TV, “Well, like I said, I discovered it by accident when I was pulling an all-nighter,” she began, switching the channels on the small but adequate TV, Pete clutching the bowl of snacks tensely as various images raced through his mind.

One more brutal than the other, maybe it was aliens, monsters, monsters aliens with weapons, whatever it was the dark-haired man could hardly wait.

When he heard “Found it” he was almost glued to the TV and his smile vanished as he saw the animated, colorful, cute animals mak.

“What the hell is that?” he immediately voiced and the bowl almost fell out of his hands as he turned to his friend but only pointed at the TV, “Don't be fooled Pete” and he turned back.

The forest dwellers had just gathered around a cake, one of the creatures must have had a birthday or something, when the cake blew up, metal pieces flew around and cut a green squirrel in half, an elf's trunk was cut off and a hedgehog lost his eyes.

All of a sudden Pete was back in the action and watched with interest as one after the other was brutally cut up, dismembered and beaten to death, “That's so awesome!” he shouted as he noticed the two differences.

He had never thought how something so sweet could be so brutal, going back to the bed and sitting down with her he only said “I need more” and was quite excited when she told him that there was much more to it than that.

Leaning on Pete, the young couple enjoyed the series to the end and knew they had saved the weekend for the next few months.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@hyperfixationcenter , @the0nlystar , @just-a-sideblog524 , @thequeenofcupps , @trentreznorslefttestical

[fandom-lover2]

Hope To Stay A While, Just Till The Rain Stops

Chapter Two - Welcome To The Club

Word Count - 2523

-image not mine-

Chapter One - Passing In A Blurr

Chapter Three - This Is Why We Don't Have Knives At The Table

After a 40 minute drive, the driver pulled into the estate and up the courtward. There it was, Wayne Manor, home to the playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne. A four story mansion surrounded by a lush forest.

I pressed up against the window to get a better view of the place. I knew we’d be meeting him but not at his own house? The car came to a stop in front of the doors and my mom got out, me scrambling to catch up.

Too busy looking at the house in amazement; I didn’t notice the butler standing at the door, waiting to greet us. “Good day, Miss Y/m/n.” he greeted with a slight bow, accent strong.

How’d he know my mom’s name?

“Hello.” she greeted politely in return, stepping into the house.

The man’s attention then shifted to me and he froze. He seemed be in his 60s with graying hair and one glance told you he was done with life, but looking into his eyes I saw them twinkle. Like a grandparent telling the child to keep the secret of having ice-cream before dinner. He continued to watch me with a look of surprise before clearing his throat and regaining his composure.

“Please, come in.” he said kindly, gesturing inside the house.

“Oh uhh, thanks.” I stammered, ducking my head and entering.

The entryway was just as glamorous as I imaged, based on what’d I see as the outside. A large doorway led off the right and left of the entry, a staircase disappearing behind the right wall. On the other end of the long entry said glass doors that opened to a balcony that overlooked the well manicured garden.

A man waited for us at the base of the staircase to the right of the entry. He was in his mid 40s with neatly trimmed black hair, clean shaven face and deep ocean blue eyes. He was dressed in black slacks and a white dress shirt. He approached as soon as we’d entered the house and I noticed a few more details about him. His jaw was square and strong, clenched tightly and his gaze stayed on me the entire time he moved.

“Y/m/n.” he greeted, voice deeper than I expected when he finally turned to acknowledge the other female in the room.

“Bruce.” was her curt reply, keeping her arms folded over her chest. His eyes then dropped to me again and I resisted the urge to step back.

His eyes took in every inch of my body before returning to my eyes and proceeded to analyze my soul. I swallowed, but couldn’t look away.

“Y/n.” he suddenly said and I jumped, breaking the contact.

He had hunched slightly and held out his hand and I gingerly took his. I was surprised to find that his hands were rough, calloused even. Why would someone who had life handed to him on a platter have calloused hands?

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Looking up again, it wasn’t met with his calculating eyes but rather this time his gaze was softer, understanding and welcoming. He was smiling slightly as well, a genuine smile.

“You too, Mr. Wayne.” I managed to squeak out.

“Call me Bruce.” he murmured, giving me another undistinguishable once over before standing to his full height and turning back to my mother.

“Shall we?” He gestured to the staircase. My mother nodded and began walking up the stairs.

“Alfred will keep you entertained.” Bruce said, gesturing to the butler and following my mother.

I watched them with my head slightly cocked to the side. This was really weird. We weren’t rich so how did my mother know a billionaire? And why were they so casual around one another? And lastly, why did I have to be here?

“Follow me.” Alfred said, breaking my attention away from the disappearing adults.

Silently following the butler, he led me through the ‘waiting area’ on the left into the lounge area of sorts. It was a large room with 5 leather couches positioned around the largest TV I’d ever seen. Speakers sat on either side of the TV as well as different videogame consoles.

“Make yourself comfortable.” Alfred smiled, standing beside the closest couch.

Moving stiffly, I sat awkwardly on the edge of the couch.

“Would you like anything to drink?” he asked softly.

“No thanks.” I whispered, smiling weakly.

He nodded in understanding. “I need to tend to your mother and Master Bruce. I will be back shortly.”

This time I nodded and breathed a small sigh of relief when he left the room, going back into the entryway.

Why did I have to be so shy when first meeting people? It made things like this so weird.

Looking around the room, I felt my skin crawl at the silence. Something deep down told me it was rare to have a moment of silence in this house so why was it deathly quiet? My anxiety kicked in and I began bouncing my leg, biting my thumb.

Groaning when that didn’t calm my nerves, I stood up and began to pace the room. A double door sat to the right of the room but I was too scared to open it so kept moving. A decorative desk beside the door held a vase of dying daisies and a framed photo of Bruce and 4 boys. I did remember hearing someone mention Bruce Wayne had adopted some kids but had never bothered to find who or why.

Moving on, there wasn’t much to see but a large paned window drew my attention. Looking out cautiously, I saw a young boy seated under a tree, sketchbook rested on his bent knees and pencil making gently strokes on the white paper. A Great Dane lay beside him. I couldn’t really see him face but his posture was definitely relaxed.

Then, almost like thunder, there were pounding steps from above.

Panicking, I turned to sit on the closest couch. Voices followed the steps and from my seat I got a perfect view of the doorway. The noise then stopped and I waited for a few moments with baited breath but released when I was sure they really did stop.

Standing once again, I moved to investigate the sitting room. Magazines of infrastructure and the economy I found no interest in sat on the glass table so I kept moving. Purposely dying flowers were placed around the room to compliment the beige seats. A large framed picture of Wayne Tower at sunset covered one side of the room while a family portrait adorned the other.

It was of young boy of about 5 and his parents. I slowly approached the painting and had to crane my neck to see the whole image. The young boy was smiling happily at the painter, childish dimples and missing front tooth on full display. His hair was slicked back with unholy amounts of gel. The mother had a gentle face, like one of those people you just feel safe around. Around her neck was a pearl necklace. The father smiled professionally, expression open and welcoming. They both seemed like amazing people, but neither looked like Bruce Wayne. Looking down at the engraving, I figured out why. “The Wayne Family. CEO Thomas Wayne, wife Martha Wayne and son, Bruce Wayne. 1978.” So it was his parents.

They’d been killed in a robbery when he was young, if I remembered correctly. Looking back I realized the boy’s facial structure did mimic his father’s.

I was so engrossed in the painting that I didn’t notice the approaching steps till they were beside me. Jumping to the side, I crashed right into a chest. Jerking back with a gasp, I looked up to the scowling man.

He could not have been older than 25. His black shirt clung tightly to his defined chest, hugging his muscles tightly as he stepped back.

Eyes moving upward, I caught myself mesmerized by his turquoise eyes. They held so much hate. He had a single white streak among the sea of black, unkempt hair and stubble.

Not gonna lie, I found him really attractive.

He didn’t make a move, just looking down at me. He was easily a foot taller than me and definitely knew how to use it as an intimidation tactic.

“Sorry.” I mumbled finally, ducking my head and stepping away. Glancing up though, I saw him still looking down at me. The anger had gone from his eyes and instead replaced with neutrality.

“Jason!” someone called from upstairs, thundering steps following.

The scowl returned to his face and the guy turned, throwing the doors open and continuing out the house.

Another guy then appeared, stopping to look at me. “He leave?”

I nodded silently.

As if on cue, a motorcycle roared to life.

“Jason!” the guy called again, running out the house but the bike was already moving.

I waited a few moments before the second man returned, closing the door with a sigh.

“Why do you have to be so stubborn?” he mumbled. Taking a breath to gather himself, he shot me a smile and made him over to me, hand outstretched. “Hi. Richard Grayson-Wayne, but everyone calls me Dick.”

Definitely calling him Richard.

“Hi.” I weakly greeted, taking him hand.

“You look really familiar.” he said.

I frowned. Greyish blue eyes and curly black hair with a beardless chin? “Never seen you before. Sorry.”

He let out an easy laugh and I frowned. “You don’t have to apologize. You’ve probably just got one of those faces.”

But no one has ever said that.

“Probably.”

“So why you here?” he asked, releasing my hand. His face then turned serious. “Don’t tell me Bruce is getting a new one?”

“Huh?” I frowned. New what?

“Oh. Nevermind.” he chuckled.

Ok…

“What was all the noise?”

I jumped for umpteenth time and spun to see the boy from earlier standing in the doorway, hugging his art book close to his chest and dog standing loyally at him side.

“Jason left.” Richard informed the boy.

He had beautiful emerald eyes and a natural Arabian tan. His face however resembled Bruce’s but held the childlike puffed cheeks.

He looked me up and down in disgust and sneered. “Who are you?”

I opened my mouth but another voice replied for me. “Y/n?”

We all turned to see Alfred enter the room. “Ahh, there you are. And you’ve already met Damian, very good. Master Bruce would like to see both of you in his office.”

I glanced at the kid and he at me before clicking his tongue and placing his book down, folding his arms after.

“I’ll just go then…” Richard said awkwardly, sidestepping into the lounge.

Alfred turned with the expectation of us to follow.

Damian began walking first but the dog remained still, eyes trained on me.

Taking a few hesitant steps forward, I held my hand outstretched to the dog. He sniffed it cautiously and then lowered his head for me to stroke him.

“Titus usually doesn’t like new people.” The boy spoke up, eyeing me suspiciously.

All I could offer was a shrug. Saying bye to Titus, I followed Damian to the staircase where Alfred stood waiting.

Another boy was descending the stairs as we reached the base. He was extremely pale with large dark circles under his eyes and a mullet. His eyes themselves were an almost black shade of blue and seemed lifeless.

“Drake.” Damian mumbled when the boy passed us, empty coffee cup in hand.

“Demon Spawn.” The boy continued on, staring at the floor before abruptly stopping. Turning, he looked between me and the boy a few times before turning again and wordlessly making his way down the passage.

What was wrong with the people that lived here?

“This way.” Alfred called.

Making my way up the stairs, we stopped at the second floor. The hallway was brightly lit with full floor to ceiling windows that showed the tacky antique decorations. Turning left, we stopped outside a room with double Dutch doors.

Alfred knocked and then when I assumed he heard clarification, opened the doors for Damian and I.

This room was Bruce’s private office. A large picture of Bruce and his parents, like the one downstairs, hung above the large oak desk that was covered in various stacks of papers and a few photo frames. My mother and Bruce sat at the couches on either side of a wooden coffee-table, both looking expectantly at us.

“Come sit.” Bruce said softly, nodding to Alfred, who closed the doors behind us.

I chose the couch with my mother that faced the wall, frowning briefly at the knight armor that stood in the corner while Damian took a seat beside his father.

Damian eyed my mother with malice but I was honestly too grateful that he’d stop trying to kill me to care. They waited for us both to get comfortable before starting.

“We have something we need to discuss with you.” Bruce started.

“Please tell me you’re not getting married!” I blurted.

I surprised myself. Had I really subconsciously been thinking of that?

Damian’s eyes widened at his turned to his father. “Father?”

Bruce chuckled lightly, something I guessed he didn’t do often ‘cause Damian looked like he’d been hit in the face.

“No, nothing like that.” Bruce reassured. The billionaire then turned to me. “Y/n, as you may know Damian is my youngest-”

 “And only blood!” the midget cut in.

“Yes, and only blood, son. You may have met my other three whom I adopted.”

“Am I getting adopted?” I blurted out once again, pressure from the formal setting making my mind fritz.

Damian’s eyes widened comically as he turned to Bruce once again. Neither adult answered.

“Y/n,” my mother called softy and I turned my attention to her. “Remember how your father and I use to travel a lot before you were born? And sometimes we would meet up with his wealthy friends?”

“Yeah…” I didn’t like where this was going.

“Well, just before I fell pregnant, your father and I came to Gotham and…” My mother struggled to find the words but Bruce remained silent.

“Y/n, I got drunk and made a mistake.” She finally got out, looking down in shame.

Where was she going with this? Looking over at Bruce, I saw he was also looking down in shame.

I couldn’t help it, I burst out laughing. Both adults looked up at me with serious expressions.

“Good one.” I gasped, clutching my stomach.

But no one else was laughing.

“What, you’re serious?”

My mother nodded, looking at me with concern.

“No.” I shook my head.

“Y/n,” she started.

“No!” I shot up.

Everything was making sense and I didn’t like it. Richard saying I’m familiar, every adult being so nice to some nobody’s, Bruce wanting to talk to me and his blood child.

I turned to Bruce, eyes pleading. Let this all be some sick joke. Please let this be a prank or bad dream. Bruce stood wordlessly and took a step toward me. “Y/n, I am your biological father.”

[whirligig-girl]

Welcome to the City South Derail Valley Railway Museum. I'm Luna, an engineer with Derail Valley Railworks & Transportation Co. for my day job, and I'll be giving you a tour and I'll explain some of the history of the Museum and its exhibits.

The Museum was originally built in 1970, where it included various historical artifacts of the history of railroading in the Valley, such as a S110-200 Planet-type, the first steam locomotive to work the valley, and the S462-630 Pacific passenger steam loco, and the F060-310 fireless shunter that once worked at the power plant.

In 1973, the Derail Valley Railway donated the Demonstrators to the Railway Museum. These were locomotives sent by the manufacturer for testing on the railway, and when the first batches were sent, the railway kept the good demonstrators and sent away the rest.

Unfortunately during the late days of the Soviet Union, the museum had to be closed, and after the collapse of the Soviet Union, the Demonstrators were sold off to the various company-owned industrial railroads that sprung up on DVRW trackage.

In 2008 the various industrial railroads were conglomerated into the state-owned Derail Valley Railworks & Transportation Company, and the Demonstrators fell into DVRT ownership, but by then many of them had been worked to the bone and abandoned in nearly scrap condition.

Now in 2025, the Derail Valley Railway Museum has been reopened and almost all of the Demonstrators have been restored. Let's take a look at each locomotive in order of its rediscovery.

DH4-670 No.35 Diesel-Hydraulic Road Switcher

The DH4 was the first to be found, as it was discovered on the first meeting of the Museum board of directors as soon as the museum was re-formed--it was directly outside the passenger station in City South, apparently having been set up as a static display when the museum was closed. After moving the DH4 back onto the rails, it was shunted onto the turntable by a battery electric microshunter. Unfortunately the Museum lived up to its name--the turntable was aligned incorrectly.

The DH4-670 wasn't the first DH4 to be trialed by the railway. The west german company MaK designed a similar class for use on Deutsche Bahn, the V90.

The by-then 10 year old locomotives were trialed in the Valley, but found to be slightly too long for some of the tight curves, so the railway ordered a custom snub-nose variant with shorter hoods and wheelbase, and with a slightly smaller cab. The first of these units to be delivered performed slightly better, so Derail Valley Railway ordered a batch of the locomotives in 1972.

The DH4 Demonstrator was our first restoration project, and served as a testbed and learning experience for many of our volunteers. The DH4 has a day job working for the railway too--we're able to provide entry for free by taking contracts to do deliveries for DVRT using our restored locomotives.

S060-440 No.22 Tank Engine

After the closure of the museum, the S060 demonstrator was sold to the Derail Forest Logging Company, and converted to wood burning, before being abandoned on a siding at the Sawmill.

During World War II, the United States Army Transportation Corps developed several classes of steam locomotives to be exported to assist with the allied war effort, including the S100 class tank engine. After the war, many of these ended up in eastern european countries, such as Yugoslavia and Derail Valley.

Derail Valley classified these as S060-440, while Yugoslavian Railways classified theirs as Class 62. These locomotives became workhorses in shunting yards, and both railways built 'clones' to a very similar design and specification.

The Yugoslavian Class 62s were built from 1952-1961 and can be distinguished by their higher pitched boilers and angled branch pipes connecting to the cylinders.

Popular consensus among the women and men who work on DVRT's steam engines is that the S060-440s are imported Yugoslav Class 62s, but this is a misconception. Derail Valley Railway built their own S100 clones to different specifications.

Note that the side tanks are shorter and more sloped, and the cab windows are much larger, in order to increase visibility and safety.

Though the S060-440 class contains original American S100s, the second batch of Derail native S060s was larger. Thus, the S060 demonstrator has the dubious honor of being younger than some of the other locomotives of its own class which serve in the valley.

The livery the S060 demonstrator was restored into was not that which it was originally built in (it would have been delivered in the same green and black livery as the other S060s), but is instead a passenger livery applied to it by the Derail Valley Railway Museum in 1971 for running excursions to the Harbor and back. Since it became more famous in this livery than the original one, we restored it to this condition as well.

S282-730 No. 83 Mikado Steam Locomotive

The S282 Demonstrator was found on a static display near the disused passenger station in City West in dire condition.

The S282 was originally designated SH282-630, and delivered in the same black livery with red frames that DVRT operates them with to this day. It is a popular misconception that the S282 are USATC S200-class mikados, but these locos are only superficially similar, and at any rate, the S282s were originally built between 1938 and 1945, predating the USATC S200 by 3 years. They were built by the railway's own mechanical department, to an original design, although with some U.S. influences like the cowcatcher-style pilot.

These locomotives served alongside liberated german class 52s (classified as S2X0-740) in the Valley through the 1960s, when many of them were becoming worn out. As diesels (DM3s and DE6s) began to phase out steam in the valley, the railway's chief mechanical officer was unconvinced that dieselization was worth it, given the valley's ample reserves of high-grade coal. (This was before the oil wells were built, so at the time the valley had to import all oil).

In 1978, the CMO brought on steam engineering experts to determine how to uprate the SH282, increasing tonnage and decreasing maintenance costs. The result was the S282-730, which was differentiated from the rest of the fleet by its bright and modern blue livery.

The S282-730 incorporated a larger steam chest, reworked suspension, a superheater, a more advanced exhaust ejector, a larger sand dome, and removed the snifters to reduce steam leaks. (prevention of backdraught was done by leaving the reverser in mid-gear while drifting). A gas producer combustion system firebox was also trialed, which allowed for more complete coal combustion and a much higher steam generation rate in the S282's narrow fireboxes.

The result was a steam locomotive that could rival the DE6 in raw power output, although it had a tendency to wheelslip. The S282s were and still are primarily used on coal trains to the steel mill and power plant, but they often find use on other mixed goods trains when a DE6 is unavailable or uneconomical.

The locomotive was not immediately popular with crews, but the railway management was impressed, and ordered the entire S282 fleet to be converted to the 730 class. The Class 52s were offloaded to other soviet socialist republics and some were scrapped.

No.83 here is the very first of the rebuilt S282s, the experimental one. Though it was eventually repainted in DVRT Black and Red, when it was donated to the museum in 1982 it was restored to its iconic Blue livery.

No.83 double heads a long and heavy freight train alongside a DVRT S282 and DH4 Demonstrator No.35 as a diesel helper. In the future we hope to use the paired blue locomotives on excursion passenger trains, when or if DVRT resumes passenger operations as planned.

Museum locomotives contain several modern amenities to make operations go as smoothly and safely as possible. The throttle and sander is electromechanically controlled by an anti-wheelslip detector like those found in some advanced diesel locomotives, and the engineer side shelf is decked out with electronic amenities such as a roadrunner, clinometer, and switch setter. There's also a digital speedometer on the cab wall and the tender, and LED lights (since the S282s were never built with electric cab lights).

Some of our volunteers think we keep the cab a little too clean, between you and me, but if the rest of the locomotive looks spotless, why not the inside?

DE2-480 No.85 Diesel-Electric Shunter

The DE2 Demonstrator's whereabouts were difficult to track down, until one of our volunteers located it during the routine runs to the Machine Factory & Town to deliver replacement parts for another demonstrator. While servicing the Utility Railbus, the driver noticed it hiding in a pile of scrap next to the Machine Factory's roundhouse. Apparently it had been used as as yard shunter for local industries in the 1990s, before it fell into disrepair and was reallocated as a shop switcher. One day its engine stopped turning over, so it was moved beside the shop and used for spare parts.

The DE2 is one of Derail Valley's original designs, though using imported diesel prime movers, they were built locally in the Machine Factory & Town from 1986 all the way through the fall of the Soviet Union until 1996, to fill the gaps left behind by the aging DM3 and S060 fleet.

By 1996 the economy had tanked enough that exporting locomotives became impossible. Nevertheless, the popularity of the DE2-440 abroad has earned it practically mascot status for Derail Valley, being perhaps the most instantly recognizable locomotive to run on DV metals.

Several DE2s ended up on Czech Railways, which inspired the 708 Series of Diesel Electrics built between 2002 and 2006, which were slightly uprated clones of the Derail-built DE2s. Many of these ended up on Serbian Railways.

This DE2 Demonstrator has the amusing subversion in that it was not a demonstrator sent to the valley, but rather sent by Derail Valley to other countries, hence its incorporation of the iconic orange and blue color scheme found on the DE6. This demonstrator was sent to the United Kingdom, but it was ultimately returned as the UK already had the very successful Class 08 shunters, and then it was given to the Museum, as it was the only locomotive the museum was missing.

DE6-860 No.20 Diesel Electric Road Locomotive

The DE6 Demonstrator was found buried in the bushes in the Goods Factory passenger station, having been used for some of the last passenger trains to run in the valley before it was left on its own and vandalized.

Although it was recovered into museum custody a while ago, it was only recently that the Museum could afford to have it restored, as it is a very expensive and complicated locomotive.

The first DE6 to arrive in the valley was an Electro-Motive Division G16, an export from the U.S.A., built in 1958-1972, similar to those used in other eastern european countries.

The first unit arrived in 1958, and crews found them comfortable and efficient compared to steam engines, although a derailment on the old trackage near City West a few months into its trial led to disappointment--it was just too long. The G16 demonstrator was sent back to EMD, and the Derail Valley Railway ordered a custom-built prototype for a shortened G16 from EMD, using shorter frames but the same diesel prime mover, and the cut-nose short-hood design employed on Australian G16s.

The prototype DE6-860 arrived in 1960, and was even better enjoyed than the G16. Several batches were ordered between 1960 and 1975. Another batch was planned in 1980, but was cancelled due to the success of the S282-730 refit class.

Although in the long run the DE6s ended up being less economical to use than the S282s for most operations due to their much cheaper fuel costs, the DE6 still very much has a place as it can be strung together with other DE6s to form a multiple unit, capable of pulling some of DVRT's longest mixed trains.

The DE6 is the most recent Demonstrator to be restored, the restoration actually having been finished just yesterday. It has yet to be christened with an actual run-in. The Demonstrator, number 20, was the prototype of the DE2-860 class, the very first ever built. It has a few mechanical oddities as a result, but over the years it has been put in-line with the rest of the class. When number 20 was built, it had the high-hood of the original G16, but this was modified by Derail Valley Railway in 1965.

DM3-540 No. 56 Diesel-Mechanical Shunter

Can you spot No.56 in this photograph of the steel mill?

The DM3 Demonstrator has proved to be the most difficult to track down. There was no documentation we could find as to its whereabouts, so the Museum sent out volunteers to all of the stations and industries served by the railway to seek it out, or at least find information about if it had been scrapped or sold.

The research done by our volunteers led to the DM3's resting spot being narrowed down to a few specific possible locations, which were checked individually.

The expedition to the steel mill nearly packed up and left, before someone noticed something red in the bushes.

The DM3 was rerailed and towed away by the Utility Railbus just yesterday, while the finishing touches were being made on the DE6.

We learned from the management that the DM3 demonstrator had been used since 1997 as a yard switcher for the steel mill, occasionally taking trains on the road when no other engine was available. It had actually been in use by the Steel Mill as late as 2014, when it finally died, and since by then DVRT had moved in to handle operations in the steel mill, it was never repaired.

The DM3 was built in East Germany and shares some similarities with the British Railways Class 04 diesels.

This design similarity may be intentional or simply a coincidence, but the actual mechanics of the locomotive are very different, with a prime mover almost twice as large as the Class 04. Sorry Mavis. From uh. Thomas the Tank Engine.

The DM3 was the first successful diesel engine class to work in Derail Valley, having arrived in 1949, with more batches purchased through to 1962. The DM3 has a reputation among railway crews for being able to move a mountain if given enough sand, due to its manual transmission and very low gear ratio. Indeed, despite being smaller, it can often outshunt a DH4, although it is limited to very low speeds and even with a small train they can only go about 60 kph before the engine takes damage.

The DM3 is the most thermally efficient locomotive operated by DVRT, since a diesel engine is one of the most efficient heat engines and a diesel mechanical applies the power of a diesel engine with minimal heat losses. In addition, its relatively simple engine makes it the easiest locomotive to repair and service. We expect the DM3 Demonstrator's restoration to be relatively smooth, and it was in better condition than some of the other demonstrators.

Thank you for visiting the museum, and feel free to look at the Demonstrators and let me or another volunteer know if you have any questions.

[etherealsworldvision]

Let’s Soothe Your Mind

Before I begin the reading I’d like to take a moment to talk about Save The Redwoods. They’re a non-profit organization who is committed to protect and restore redwood forests. If you’re interested do check out their website and if you’d like to further your support here is their donation link.

Divider Credits: @ianrkives & @plum98

New Song Discovery for the Reading: Reservations – Dugong Jr, Julia Lostrom, Keelan Mak

Pile 1 Pile 2 Pile 3

🚨 P.S.A 🚨 : I do not give personal readings! Disclaimer: this is for entertainment only!

Added Description: all my readings are timeless and meant to reach those who resonate to the messages.

[ General Messages: Rain; Autumn; Libra and Leo Seasons, “My love do you ever dream of candy coated raindrops”- Candy Rain by Soul for Real, Longboards (Skateboarding and Surfing); Raya the Last Dragon; Dewdrop; Spicy (foods); Avatar the Last Airbender; Fire Flakes; Honeydew; Drinks; Tantrums; Saturn Hour; Saturn Placements and Aspects; (Smithsonian) Museums; 1010; Kendrick Lamar; Trouble - Taylor Swift; Caught Up; Cheat; Exclusion; (Reaction) Memes; Distrust; Camping; Tents; Connections; Frustration; Online ]

Pile 1

[ Cards: Justice; Moon Reversed; Ace of Wands; Seven of Cups Reversed; Two of Wands ]

Confirmation Messages: Gojo & Geto; Anxiety (Playlist); “Get off of me/Ew get away,” (directed towards emotions feeling stuck to your body or feels like “bugs” crawling on skin); Anxiousness; Nervousness; Shadow and Bones (?); Shadow Hunters; Slowing Down; Chaotic Energy; Out of Control; Bugs; (Breaking) Habits; Messy Thoughts; Strategic; “Playing it Cool”; Patrick Star?; Hares; Hates Feeling Emotions; Pink Flowers (Real or Artificial); Systems Down; Mewing (?)

Something new might have happened or you feel like this is the universe (or whoever you believe in) giving you something. This energy feels like Carl and Cindy’s interaction (from Jimmy Neutron). In this case you’re Carl and Cindy is the universe lol. Maybe you were in a rut or had a cycle of “unfortunate events” in regard to circumstances or people.

If you’re asking for clarification: You have free will — it’s up to you whether you want to continue what you’re doing or not. I’m not sensing anything “bad” or “malicious” intent in regards to what/who you’re inquiring about. There’s this sense of catastrophizing new things. There’s also this feeling of “too good to be true”. I don’t know if you said/thought/felt this: “I need a fucking break” is strongly coming in.

So now that you have this break — it’s almost like you don’t know what to do or how to proceed. It’s as if you’re holding a globe but you don’t get to actually go anywhere. Maybe at one point you did get experience with this, only to be let down? Either way having no control is what’s scaring you and causing this anxiousness (especially if this deals with a person).

What’s coming in for those who are iffy about proceeding: “let them, just let them because you are your own before and after meeting this person”. This can also deal with a situation too — as in this doesn’t define you. There is no need to punish/blame yourself for being afraid/ not taking this offer. It just means you weren’t ready and that’s okay. Go at your own pace.

For those of you who want to proceed with this situation/person then you’ll have to let down your walls bit by bit. Again it’s okay to go at your own pace or ask to slow down. The same applies: “let them”. The door is always open so let them or “let you”. You can always set it down and move to the next one. It’s okay.

Bonus Question to Ask Yourself: “What did I keep doing that keeps hurting? Why do I keep repeating this behavior?” - by WNRS

So that’s all that I’m getting for pile 1. If you made it this far, thank you so much for reading this, I really appreciate it. If this resonates let me know. I am supporting you through and through 🧡!

Pile 2

[ Cards: Three of Swords Reversed; 3 of Pentacles Reversed; 6 of Swords; 5 of Pentacles Reversed; 9 Of Swords; 3 of Wands ]

Confirmation Messages: Courage; Charli XCX (Brat album); The Sun; Music; Concerts; Celebrity; Billie Eilish; Air and Earth Placements; Careless; Responsibility; Overthinker; New Things; Success; Moving On; 55; 66; 333; 9; Truth; Waiting; Patience; Releasing Judgement; Let it flow; Getting or Wanting Numbers? Holding Back; Calculated Risks; Chappell Roan; Doechii; Temptation - Raveena; Gemini; Aries

So I’m feeling like you’re releasing this heartache (for some it could be from your past?) I don’t know why, I pulled a clarification and it’s the 10 of Cups and I heard “No that’s so scary, Boo Feelings and Happiness!” So maybe you’re afraid of things working out because you were always let down in the past.

I feel like this can be about a connection (?) — there’s a lot of air coming in which means social lives. This may have come when things just started to calm down or in the midst of healing? To be honest this pile’s energy tends to overthink a lot. Like I feel like there’s this thing where you’re scared of saying the wrong thing which makes you take a step back only to make the overthinking worse. Maybe you’re asking friends what to do because I split the deck and saw 3 of Cups.

For some reason I feel like you need more reassurance so I’ll just pull out more cards for you. So I got the 2 of cups and the Eight of Wands (reversed), Judgement, and the Emperor. The first thing I’m picking up is that: you two may have opposite personalities or are awake at different times because we have two blue cards and two gold cards.

I’m also getting that the pace is painfully slow despite things going smoothly. It’s like you want to take control but you’re aware it won’t go smoothly if you rush it. For some of you there’s this thing of being afraid to take the “lead” or being pressured by society to take the lead.

(Side note: I don’t know who needs to hear this but there’s no hierarchy in a connection. There’s no, “who wears the pants” or whatever heteronormative stuff that gets constantly pushed into connections. What makes a connection work is when both people see each other as equals and accepting of one another)

You’re going to hate me for this but…it takes time and teamwork for a connection to work out. So yeah, go at your own comfortable pace (not a pace society tells you to go by) and enjoy the present time. For some reason I really have to “hammer it in” to take your time; let this connection take its time. Let things fall into place all on its own and if you feel called to do something (meaning the timing is right) then by all means take that initiative.

When you let things slowly progress you will also get a better understanding and feel of this person, from there you can see if you want to proceed or not.

Bonus Questions to Ask Yourself: “When have I given too much of myself in a relationship (could also be platonic)? What did that look like? What lesson did that leave me with?” - WNRS

That’s really all I’m getting, to be honest this reading is so chaotic and so long even though it barely reached 5 paragraphs. If you made it this far thank you so much, I appreciate it. I’m wishing you luck and please take your time!

Pile 3

[ Cards: Queen of Pentacles; 7 of Swords; Justice; Five of Cups Reversed; 8 of Pentacles; 7 of Cups; 7 of Pentacles ]

Confirmation Messages: Horror Games; Paranormal; Libra; Yellowjackets; Birds of a Feather; Unrequited; Nevada; Winter; Baby Powder; Scents; Insincerity; Friday; Outcasts; Water(falls); Late Spring; (Couples) Therapy; 777; (Down by the Water) PJ Harvey; Library; Goth (Music); Unknown; Earth Placement; Situationship; Clear Mind; Tiredness; “Success is the Best Revenge”; Lana Del Rey; Distractions; Cheating; 1:23

You may have left a connection or felt this person was dishonest. I think what made it worse is outside advice (which is ironic because y’know we’re here lol). Perhaps someone gave you the, “time heals all wounds” or “it’s okay! Just get pretty and focus on your job!” Only to feel dread, I’m not going to lie. I don’t know if you put a limit to your sadness because there’s this sense of, “I should be over this by now.” I feel like some of you did achieve this success/glow up you wanted yet still feel grief.

Honestly, it’s okay to grieve as long as you want to. There is no time limit to feel grief and sadness. Realistically speaking, grief stays with us. Grief can come in the form of memories popping up or when you feel nostalgic — that’s a part of grief and that’s okay. All we can do is look at them and see them for who they are and what they did. (Now, I’m not excusing their actions at all!) For example; it’s one of those things where someone waits for years to get closure only to get nothing and in the end they accept they’ll never get it.

I know this may sound bitter and for some bittersweet, but let the grief flow. You’re not crying over “spilt milk”, for all we know it’s not just spilt milk! Maybe it was milk you got with your hard earned money and now you don’t have milk because you just spent the last portions of your money so you can wipe your ass! So no, it’s not just milk! (lol sorry I just hate when the 5 of cups gets that connotation — there’s always something deeper to it.)

Look, distracting yourself out of emotions via deep diving in your work isn’t always the best thing to do. Sometimes you need silence (no music or sounds!) and sit with yourself. Really sit, lay or something with yourself and be vulnerable. Sit with that feeling for just a minute (not drown in it) because it’s asking to be acknowledged. Acknowledgment is a key to acceptance and with that comes the healing.

I feel like when you do acknowledge your grief, come to terms with the situation/person for who they are it’ll make the healing process bearable. I’m not saying it’ll be easier and you’ll be happy at a flip of a coin. I’m just saying because of this acceptance you may find you’re not doing your work/hobbies/goals for the sake of revenge but because it’s for you. You’re doing these things because you love it or for your own happiness/fulfillment.

Bonus Question to Ask Yourself: “What’s my favorite song at the moment? Why do I love it so much? (Play it for yourself)”. - by WNRS

Alrighty Pile 3 that’s all I got for you, thank you so much for reading until the very end! I appreciate it. I'm giving you some peace and love 🧡.

[harrietwritesstuff]

Title: And, all your blood in the water Chapter wordcount: 2,300 Chapter: 1/2

Notes: Apologies for the transparent lack of anything actually resembling a plot. I tried, but it's mostly just… three bundles of vibes, angst and yearning stacked on top of one another in a trenchcoat pretending to be a plot; but we move.

It hadn't started this way, grim and cold and silent, the rasp of his breath too loud in his own head. It had begun ordinarily, with coffee and a glance over the schedule - or as ordinary as one's day can be, when living somewhere bordered by an egomaniacal neighbour hellbent on the destruction of your country. 

It was meant to be a bog-standard frontline trip; a chance to give medals - to talk, to see what their defenders really needed, to look them in the eye. Maks had watched Vova’s growing enthusiasm, unable to hide his own smile as they neared the checkpoint on the outer edge of the forest, chattering happily. There was more planned for the day, but this had felt like a nice moment to begin - somewhere outside in the fresh air; it always gave Volodymyr something he so missed; those moments of connection that were so absent in the endless meetings, the reports and briefings. 

The morning had ended with a yelled curse as everything descended rapidly into a nightmare, his hand grasping, yanking Volodymyr away from the epicentre of chaos by his hand; all the rage, gunfire, shrapnel - the two of them keeping pace with one another as they fled deeper into the woods. Too stunned to really engage with what had just happened, Volodymyr's snarky commentary had been consistent enough- surely by now they ought to have perfected their aim, they’ve had long enough, no? It was there really to disguise his worry, and had continued apace until a few hours ago. 

First the bitter sarcasm had drained away, and then eventually any attempt at conversation too.

“Maks–” Vova’s voice is almost ripped away by the wind as it howls through the trees. The only noise for the last hour has been the weather; the two of them struggling on in grim silence.

“What-?” The usual grace, his quiet adherence to protocol - always ‘sir' never ‘Volodymyr’, much less ‘Vova’ - is gone. Instead, his voice is hoarse, his temper short. The wind and the rain have sapped his energy, his drive - but they have to keep going. They can’t stop. It repeats in his head like a mantra.

A stationary target is easier to hit than a moving one.

They shouldn’t even be in this position. Stupid fucking russians and their incessant inability to let them just live in peace. He could kill the lot of them with his bare hands right now, down to the last worthless specimen. The inherent rage rears its head again and he has to take a deep breath, to push it back down, else he expend his limited energy on something so unproductive as anger. After a moment’s quiet, a steadying breath, he repeats the question, louder this time - pinning a small shred of politeness to his tone. This isn’t Vova’s fault - it isn’t fair. He didn’t sign up for this. His heart aches.

“What is it?”

“Maks. I don't feel–”

He turns awkwardly into the driving rain and stops short. He hadn't realised how far Vova had lagged behind and his stomach drops. Vova is pale, more than usual, horribly so - the dark circles under his eyes are black, even in the waning light - and there is a strange grey cast to his face. He lists heavily against a tree, the rain streaming down his face as he grips onto his left arm as though to hold himself together. His knees look as though they’re about to buckle.

“Don’t feel well.”

Retracing his steps, trying desperately not to think of progress undone, he moves to Vova’s side.

“You’re alright. I promise. Just a bit further.”

“No. Maks. I’m tired. Can’t we just- stay here- just for a minute. Catch our breath. I’m sure I’ve got a protein bar in my back pocket, we could share-” his voice is almost slurred, something rambling about his speech that sends alarm bells ringing in Maksym’s head.

“You’re alright. Come on, we need to keep going.”

Who is he trying to convince? Vova, or himself?

He takes a breath in, grabs hold of Vova’s arm to encourage him onwards - only to be the recipient of an earful of half-uttered curses and he yanks his hand back.

“What’s the matter?”

He can hear the irritated desperation in his own voice and he tries to swallow it down. 

“Feel– strange–”

Maksym frowns, rubbing a hand over his face to try and clear his vision, blurred by the rain. There's the looming sense now that - he’s missed something– there’s something wrong.. He reaches out a hand, less abrupt this time, moving slowly in the way one might with a wounded animal, his palm flat, out and open.

“Strange, hm?” He smiles faintly at the description, a kernel of affection buffeting up against his annoyance. Of course, he’s not unwell, or tired or sick, just.. strange. “Can I see?”

He doesn’t wait for permission, grasping hold of Vova’s hand, intending to pull him closer; both their palms slick with rain. Vova shivers, his teeth chattering as he tries to pull away, pain blanching his features to an unhealthy grey.

“S fine leave it. Need to go-”

His words are slurred now, unfocused.

Maksym ignores him, letting go of his hand. He positions himself as close as possible to shield Vova from the rain and pushes aside the ripped material of his jacket. His heart thumping in his ears, he hurriedly shoves up his sweatshirt and the henley beneath, ignoring Vova’s feeble attempts to get him to stop. It's a slow, awful reveal; a clumsily applied field dressing pressed haphazardly against his ribs. It's soaked through, the weight of it thick and heavy; a strangely pulsing parasite that shifts with every breath Vova takes. Maks carefully prises the bandages away. As he does so, a familiar smell hits him in the face, a coppery sharpness above the old scent of decaying leaves, wet vegetation. The torn skin beneath the gauze is red and angry, the ragged edges of the wound are swollen.

He swears under his breath. How had he missed this? In all the chaos - this ever unfolding nightmare - he hadn’t noticed this - hadn’t seen the impact from the initial explosion, the only thought in his head had been to get them away from it, from any chance they could be found. He hadn’t noticed the hastily applied first-aid job, done in a brief moment when he had not glanced back. He hadn’t seen the way Volodymyr lagged behind, his step becoming less sure as the hours dragged on. Hadn’t seen either, the slow drip of blood across the forest floor. Shit.

Vova shouldn't be bleeding this much. Hastily, he replaces the dressing with one from his own kit, pressing the edges down firmly, feeling Vova shudder under his hand. Maks watches with a growing sense of alarm as the snow-white linen is dappled with crimson.

“Why didn’t you say-” the words are mostly for himself, shot through with fear, frustration. Even if he had said, what difference would it have made to all this? The light in the sky is starting to fade now, the wind growing louder, the rain colder. He wonders if they will ever leave here, briefly - a darkness fluttering at the edges of his thoughts. Of course they will. They just have to keep going. They’ll have been missed long before, and he trusts his colleagues implicitly - trusts in every plan they have for escape, for evacuation.

“S’ matter?”

Volodymyr blinks at Maks innocently, as though he hadn’t just been hiding a gaping wound in his chest.

“Nothing. You’re alright. You're doing so well-” 

Carefully, he pulls Vova’s sweatshirt back down, filled with the gnawing realisation that the material isn't wet with rain - it's bloody. He glances down at his hands, the dark red slowly washed away by the pounding rain. He wipes his hands shakily on his combat trousers, the stain barely visible - as though it hadn't been there in the first place, something dreamlike about all this; a ghastly nightmare he doesn't know how to wake up from.

A strange little laugh fills the air between them and Maks feels his chest go tight.

“Mm. Not sure about that- ‘vreyone’s tired Maks. I’m tired.”

You are. I promise. You're doing so well.

“Just a little longer. For me?”

Please. I don't think I can carry you through this.

Again, quieter, fainter.

“‘M tired Maks-”

For a while, in the forest, beneath the pounding rain - it's unclear what either of them means; the here and now, or something larger, wider than the two of them.

Vova looks at him and smiles thinly, taking a shaky step forward. Blood drips steadily onto the dirt, great fat drops swallowed up by the earth. For a long moment he seems frozen in the pouring rain; something unbearably unearthly about him; the rain dripping down his pale face, his eyes dark, so dark they are almost black. He gets no further as his eyes roll back into his head and his knees give way. It happens instantaneously - there is no shock or surprise on his gaunt face, just a silent shuttering, an emptiness.

He moves without even thinking and in a millisecond - Maksym is the only thing stopping the President from collapsing in a heap on the wet floor. He staggers beneath the limp weight, one arm around Vova, the other supporting his head, cradling him against his chest. Despite the freezing rain, the back of his neck beneath Maksym's hand is warm. 

This time, Maks swears aloud.

~~

Clutched in his arms, Vova is a dead weight, gone utterly limp, his eyes rolled back in his head, face slack - Maks knows this is bad; knows he should keep talking to him, demand he stays awake, keep pestering him until he glares balefully and grunts something annoyed. But he can't. He doesn't have the energy to spare, or the breath as he drags in another lungful of cold, sharp air.

It's all he can do to hold onto Vova without fucking dropping him. He can just imagine the conversation now-

Donets, why does the President have a gaping wound in his chest and a bleeding gash on his forehead?

I dropped him in the middle of the bastarding forest because I was too tired to think straight, too exhausted to do my job. Sorry about that. Blame the russians for the chest wound though-

He winces at the thought of the conversation and then again as his foot lands awkwardly on the slope, the ground half giving way beneath his boot, his knee twisted. For a moment, he stands there, breathing harshly, forcing himself to stay still, to ignore the sudden throbbing pain of his ankle and knee, his muscles screaming in protest as he tenses up to keep his balance.

He swallows down a stream of curses that linger at the back of his raw throat.

You need to keep going, but don't throw yourself and the President down the bloody hill you utter moron.

Having the both of them collapse onto the damp, leafy floor is not the best course of action, though it would certainly be easier at this point. His arms hurt. For all Volodymyr has lost an alarming amount of weight lately, he is still a grown man, all limbs and edges and muscles - somehow unwieldy despite his compact size. The weight of Vova wedged against Maksym's chest presses hard against his sternum, every breath is a grating gasp for air, his lungs too constricted to expand properly. If he moves Vova from where he's clasped against his chest, he isn't sure if his grip will hold.

His knuckles are white, his biceps cramped.

His legs hurt with a dull, burning pain that comes from over exertion in too-cold temperatures. He wants to lie down.

The cold wind slices through him again and he squints into the pouring rain. . He just..  has to keep going; his sense of direction enough, the hope enough. It has to be.

He takes a shaky breath in and then another step. And another. His calf muscles howl in protest, stretched beyond endurance. His ribs ache savagely, the dull thump of a swelling bruise settling below his skin, far too familiar for comfort. Everything hurts, his back too. In his arms, Vova is slack, the white column of his throat exposed, horrifyingly vulnerable. It would be so easy to stop, to stay here, to collapse to the floor and wait for the rain to stop. To stay here and wait for the russians to find them. It isn't fear that drags at the edge of Maksym's thoughts but a blunt, grey tiredness.

Vova was right. He is tired. They all are.

He bites down on his tongue until he can taste iron and salt.

Move. You need to keep moving.

He takes one step. And then another. His mind empties slowly as he continues on. His thoughts are hazy, filled with the sound of the rain, the weight of Vova against his chest. Even the driving, gnawing pain of his own body flickers, fades into the background. There's nothing else for a long, long time. Just the rain, and the dull, burning weight of all that he carries. Hours have passed, his whole self utterly numb with cold, his fingers frozen. His steps are slow, every one of them a conscious effort through the howling void inside his head. It feels endless - there is nothing else now except the next step, the weight in his arms. All he knows is that he has to keep going, to continue because- he can't stop. There has to be an end - either he reaches the edge of the forest where surely - someone will know they are missing, will have come to find them; because there is always a plan for escape, for evasion, and then- then what?

There's a dull roaring sound in his ears. He looks up.

[eksvaized]

Part Twenty [ Previous 〡 Next ] taglist: @kingsprettyangel, @simonsslvt, @herwristsarehercanvas, @the-faceless-bride, @ghostieslove, @bbypionaa if you want to be added - let me know!

A/N: the updates on all my stories are slow because of uni the exam season is killing me >.< but once i'm done with it, i plan on posting more frequently!

You stare at the white ceiling. The light blanket draped over your body feels like a suffocating weight that’s pressing down on you. Yet, you lack the strength or mental energy to peel it away. As you lie there, it’s hard to believe that you’re back in this house, back in this room - your room.

When you first woke up, you had thought you would spend the rest of the day crying. But now, the reality of your return, the fact that you didn’t escape, that you’re back where you started, seems oddly natural. It’s as if you had always been caught in this relentless cycle and the brief moments of freedom were just cruel illusions. Of course, you didn’t escape Simon’s grasp. How could you? And for what reason did you even dare to dream of running, when your fate had already been sealed?

A chilling realisation settles heavily on you: deep within, you always knew that you weren’t going to make it too far away. The thought of escape was nothing more than a tantalising mirage that kept you going.

You sink deeper into the mattress, and your thoughts drift to Johnny, his memory filling the empty spaces of your room. His belongings, once scattered haphazardly here, are now all gone. The lack of his familiar presence, the void where he once existed, suggests that he’s probably been banished as well. Simon knows he can trust his friend. Yet he likely doesn’t want Johnny around you anymore. His presence is too dangerous for you. It sparks rebellious thoughts, ignites dangerous ideas that should have just remained as silly fantasies in your silly little head.

Simon occasionally comes into the room. Each time he appears, he brings you a meal: breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He always places the neatly arranged tray on the nightstand. However, your appetite fails you every time and you never reach for the food. The meals, untouched, grow cold and then Simon, without saying anything, takes it all away.

You had thought that Simon would grow furious with your refusal to eat. Despite his seemingly calm demeanor, you braced yourself for the moment he would finally snap and unleash his pent-up frustration the moment you dared to meet his gaze. You imagined him yelling, maybe even resorting to physical violence, then dragging you to the basement to be shackled and left alone on the lumpy mattress. However, contrary to your expectations, his interactions with you are limited to occasional curt commands. He orders you to eat, to go shower, to change clothes. Sometimes you comply, sometimes not.

Day after day passes, each blending seamlessly into the next. From the confines of your bed, curled up into a tight ball and clutching your pillow, you watch the sunrises paint the sky with hues of pink and orange. A haze of sleep consumes you, pulling you into its depths and then pushing you back to reality, though every time you wake, you still feel an overwhelming sense of fatigue that never seems to lift.

Time becomes a blur, its passage marked only by the changing light outside your window. You can’t tell if only a few days, a long grueling week, or perhaps a full month has passed since Johnny found you in the forest. But the truth is, you don’t really care. What’s the point? What’s the point of caring, of trying, of devising potential escape plans when you feel the hopelessness seeping into your every pore?

There are moments when you catch yourself questioning your own sanity. What if you really do have a delusional disorder? What if you fabricated all those terrifying scenarios about Simon kidnapping you and forcing you to stay with him? Everything seemed to point in that direction. After all, when you mustered the courage to make an escape attempt, his reaction, when you were brought back home, was far from the explosive rage that you had predicted.

Instead of a storm, there was a surprising calmness, an almost passive acceptance that rocked your preconceived notions. His demeanor was mild, oddly gentle, and this discrepancy led you to question the authenticity of your own perceptions. It was as if a mirror was held up to the distortions of your own mind, casting doubts about the reality you thought you knew.

Simon himself was constantly proving to be nothing more than a caring and soothing presence. His actions were always considerate, his words tender and comforting. This gentle behavior conflicted with the image of the captor you had created in your mind, leading to further self-doubt. You found yourself wrestling with your own thoughts, trying to convince yourself that perhaps, just perhaps, you were indeed fabricating all of these disturbing scenarios.

* * *

Simon has reached his breaking point. The relentless sulking, the constant gloom, the oppressive atmosphere that hangs in your bedroom like a shroud - it’s unbearable. Each day is a mirror image of the one before: he’d make his way into your room, anticipation gnawing at him, only to find you in the exact same position in which he had left you, sprawled out on the bed in an almost lifeless manner, neglecting food and water, your gaze fixated on the wall, staring blankly as though you were lost in a world far beyond anyone’s reach.

So, on one evening, Simon decides to take matters into his own hands. He isn’t going to stand by and watch any longer. He is going to do something, anything, to bring back the light that once twinkled in your eyes.

Simon enters your room, cradling a bottle of what appears to be an extremely expensive bourbon, its golden liquid glinting under the soft evening light. His brows are furrowed in determination, a silent testament to his resolve.

He carefully places the bottle on the nightstand, accompanied by two gleaming glasses. “We are going to drink,” he declares, but you don’t say anything. You raise your chin up and just stare at him. Your gaze empty.

He studies you, his eyes shimmering with a complex cocktail of concern and firm resolution, before he reaches out for your hand. With a gentle yet firm tug, he pulls you out of the bed, making you stand. As you do, your gaze falls upon your own reflection in the mirror that hangs on the wall. You stumble, taken aback by your appearance.

You are still clad in the same clothes you had on when you left the house. The fabric is uncomfortably sticking to your skin, chaffing at the edges. This realization sparks a sudden urge within you to shed it all off. However, you remain frozen because you aren’t alone in the room.

Simon approaches you once more, this time presenting you with a fresh set of underwear, a fluffy white towel, and a pair of shorts along with a shirt.

“Go shower,” he instructs in a tone that brooks no argument. Although a part of you, the part that’s grown comfortable with the cocoon of sadness, wants to shake your head in refusal and retreat back to the bed, you decide that a quick shower wouldn’t do any harm. It might even serve as a much-needed break from the tumult within.

As you make your tentative way out of the room, you catch a fleeting glimpse of Simon’s silhouette against the window, managing to open it despite the lack of a handle. Once the window is cracked, inviting a breath of fresh, untainted air in, he proceeds to methodically peel off all the sheets from your bed, preparing it anew.

You spend a while standing under the scalding hot water. The warmth washes over you, blanketing you in a comforting heat that seems to momentarily suspend the world outside. The luxurious, expensive, fruity smelling gels that Simon has purchased for you are ignored, lined up against the wall of the shower. You simply don’t have the energy to slather your skin with them. However, you make a conscious effort to untangle the knots in your hair, running your fingers through the strands repetitively.

When you come back into the bedroom, Simon is sitting on the bed. Your bed is adorned with crisp, clean sheets, and on the nightstand, next to the bottle and two glasses, there’s a bowl with some steaming hot soup. The aroma wafts through the room.

“You can’t drink on an empty stomach,” he says in a tone that suggests he’s more stating a fact than offering an opinion. If you had the energy, you would no doubt argue with him, insisting that you have no intention of drinking or eating. But instead, you only manage to sit down next to him, the exhaustion preventing any form of protest.

When you make no move to reach for the bowl, Simon takes the initiative. He cradles the dish in his hands and begins to feed you. You allow him to. When a stray droplet of soup trickles down the corner of your mouth, he gently wipes your chin with his thumb, an act that is both comforting and strangely intimate.

There’s a part of you that wants to ask why he’s being so patient, so considerate with you. In fact, myriad questions are swirling in your foggy head, each one demanding an answer. But the haze clouding your mind is so thick, so dense, that formulating even a single coherent sentence feels like scaling a mountain.

Simon insists you finish the entire bowl of soup, meticulously ensuring that not a drop is left before he finally puts it away. As he proceeds to unseal the bottle that has been sitting on the nightstand, you find your eyes inadvertently drawn to his hands, noticing the rough, hardened callouses that adorn his fingers.

“Drink,” another command slips past his lips and he passes you a glass filled to the brim.

You gaze tentatively at the glass. The liquid inside shimmers under the soft glow of the room’s light. You hesitate. You don’t want to drink. However, you know that Simon, with his stubborn persistence, won’t back off or leave you alone until you do. So, with a heavy sigh, you bring the glass to your lips and take the first, small sip, instantly feeling the harsh sting of alcohol as it trickles down your throat, searing every inch it touches.

You hope that after the glass is finished, the alcohol will make you drowsy, lulling you into a deep slumber. After all, it seems that’s all you seem to do these days. Sleep.

However, when your glass finally drains, reaching its anticipated emptiness, instead of the expected heaviness or sense of dread, your eyes unexpectedly widen, and you find yourself becoming more alert. After enduring days of feeling emotionally numb, hollow inside, akin to an empty shell thoughtlessly discarded on a deserted, lonely beach, you feel an unfamiliar warmth spreading gradually throughout your body. This sensation is new, yet not unwelcome.

And then, when Simon, seemingly satisfied with your compliance and perhaps even relieved, nonchalantly turns on the TV, randomly selecting some film to fill the room with some background noise, you find yourself giggling as you watch the screen.

You don’t know why you are laughing or why you keep extending your arm towards Simon, wiggling your glass every time it empties, but you do.

Simon, with a careful vigilance, keeps an eye on you from the periphery of his vision. Matching your pace, he drinks as much as you, if not slightly more, but he is not nearly as drunk as you. Just a bit tipsy. He knows that getting drunk with you is far from the wisest decision he could make. But he quiets his mind, trying to convince himself that you won’t do anything reckless. After all, the bottle was only uncorked after he was fully convinced that you had no intentions of trying to run away again.

After Johnny brought you back, Simon was relieved. Ecstatic, actually. The thought of you, alone in the dark, lost and frightened, was a horrifying prospect that had Simon on the brink of tearing his hair out in sheer anxiety. It felt like a thousand icy needles were piercing his heart. In fact, the notion of you in danger was so excruciating, it made him want to raze the entire forest to the ground until he found you.

He had initially steeled himself, preparing to unleash a storm of admonishment, to let you taste the bitter regret of your impulsive decision to venture outside the safety of the house. After persuading Johnny to leave, under the guise that your condition had worsened, and you needed to recover in a safe environment devoid of any agitation, he stationed himself in your room, sitting by your bedside, watching over you, waiting for your eyes to flutter open so he could mete out the punishment he believed you deserved.

But when you woke up, something was amiss. Simon immediately noticed it. At first, he thought you were simply sad, but there were no tears to confirm his suspicion. No other emotions were evident on your face, either. The vacant stare you wore, the long, empty days you spent lying in bed, refusing to eat, and merely gazing aimlessly out of the window, filled him with an unsettling, gnawing fear. He longed for some kind of reaction from you, any indication that the person he knew was still there, beneath the facade of emptiness. He reasoned that perhaps you needed time to process everything, so he gave you space. Yet, even that didn’t seem to help.

During the times when his emotions would threaten to consume him, when his mind would be bursting at its seams with a relentless onslaught of thoughts, or when he felt the crushing, suffocating emptiness that seemed to envelop him, as though the bullet that had merely grazed him had instead ended his life, he would seek solace in the comforting burn of the most expensive bourbon he could find in the store. He would drink until his mind was blissfully quiet, until he lost consciousness, in the hopes that the morning would bring relief, and the horrors of the previous day would feel like a distant, unpleasant dream from which he had finally awoken.

“Hello? Earth to Simon,” you call out, playfully nudging his shoulder with the tip of your index finger. A lazy smile plays on the corners of your lips. “Are you falling asleep on me—yes, yes, you are!” you exclaim, your laughter bubbling up from deep within your chest. The sound of your giggles fills the room. You sink deeper into the bed and finish the last of your liquor. “You are such a lightweight,” you tease, your voice slightly slurred from the alcohol. Unexpectedly, a hiccup slips past your lips, causing your giggles to escalate into full-blown laughter.

Simon raises his eyebrows. His eyes twinkle with mild amusement and a hint of disbelief. His gaze is fixed on you. It takes him a moment to register your words, but then he shakes his head and smiles. Genuinely, smiles. A feeble grin spreads across his face, accompanied by the gentle crinkling of his eyes at the corners. 

[harri-etvane]

[tillichan]

✮ ⋆ ˚｡ Your Life in My Hero Academia for @babulejka ⋆｡°✩

In the world of heroes and villains, you were just a little girl who believed in magic and fairy tales. You lived calmly and peacefully with your parents in a small house at the edge of the forest. For some reason, they wanted to keep you away from the world of quirks. Not that you were against it. You weren't interested in becoming pro hero or being popular what your peers wanted. This life full of bedtime stories, your plants and animals friends, Gibli movies, ballet and music brought a lot of joy to you, you were satisfied with it. You loved the books and cartoons about mystical creatures. You were absolutely fascinated with them. How wonderful it would be if you could marry one of them. Or meet one of them at least. Unfortunately they existed only in the books, but you refused to give up. Every day you walked in the woods looking for fairies, elves and adventures. As they say, who seeks will always find. One day you sat on the tree stump and sang the lullaby in a low voice to the accompaniment of guitar, when suddenly kitsune, a cunning demon, appeared before you out of nowhere. But you was not afraid, instead you continued to sing. Kitsune was in no hurry to attack you too. Otherwise it sat down next to you listening to your beautiful singing. Upon hearing your songs, other demons came out of the woods. Big and little, red and white, one and nine tailed, all them gathered to listen to your songs. They sat still or danced whenever the song was entertaining. This was the day your quirk awakened. Kitsune. You were kitsune yourself and had the power to summon the kitsune and foxes asking them for help. And even though you were happy to have a quirk related to the mystical creatures, the people around you didn't share your joy. They were afraid of you, forced you to live in isolation and forgot about you with time. But you, you were not pleased with their behavior. They not only belittled you and the mystical creatures, but also heteromorphs, your friends and creatures you loved the most. And for this reason you decided to join the League of Villains to protect heteromorphs and the mystical creatures, fight for the rights of them and to be with the person you love the most. Nowadays, you work as UA school psychologist being a double agent for the League of Villains. The reason why you agreed and joined UA lies in your quirk. Since your kitsune self allows you to control the mind being a psychologist is the best way to get control of the world of pro heroes. Your innate charm and ability to create illusions and pull the chain help you to pretend to be a nice UA worker with a weak quirk that allows to to heal the mental a little. And no one knows that behind this mask hides a sly fox who does her best to fight for what she loves.

Quirk: Kitsune | Villain Name: Foxie | Fake Hero Name: Mentality

Your quirk allows you to turn into Kitsune and use the powers of Kitsune. Supernatural beauty and charisma is something that only kitsune have and that help you to gain trust and charm people around you. Talking to foxes and kitsune and asking them for a help is one more bonus to your quirk. Your Kitsune abilities include:

• Shapeshifting. You can turn into a fox, the human form is your main form though. Somehow you already have all nine tails that makes you a powerful fox who rules the world of kitsune. You're good at hiding your tails but sometimes it may appear, when you sleep, you're exhausted or nervous. Your fox form looks like a cute fox with shaggy golden fur with some white and black spots. • Fox-Fire manipulation. This is your way to attack your enemy. You can create, shape and manipulate fox-fire, expelling it from your mouth, tails or hands. • Mind control and illusion manipulation. You can create illusions, pull the chain and hypnotize people. You practiced and practiced and became so good at it that no one can detect your ability. You can suggest any thought or make the person to obey you implicitly.

The only one weak point you have is your Fox Jewel. It looks like a little birthmark, but it's because you disguised it as a birthmark through your illusions. Actually, it looks like a little jewel. If someone took away this jewel from you, you would loose your quirk.

You don't need special costume or equipment since you're a double agent and act like a school doctor. Your quirk doesn't need something special too, so you are most often seen wearing a white coat.

The villainess Foxie is known only in narrow circles, because you're more famous as a good psychologist, Mentality, who helps people to deal with their problems, nightmares, traumas and insecurities. But your real desire is to help heteromorphs and the mystical creatures to become free and happy. Even though there are a lot of them, some of them are a pro heroes, people still tend to avoid them, considering them as the beasts. You were not agree with them so you joined the Villain League to help Spinner and right a wrong.

Romantic Matchup: Shuichi Iguchi

"Marry me, please!" A little girl, you, stood in front of Shuichi extending your hand with the prettiest smile. He was stunned by you. You were so damn cute, and gorgeous, and he loved the way sun highlighted you making you look like an angel in the flesh. And you asked him to marry you? Shuichi was sure that he was in a dream. There was no way such an ethereal creature like you would love to marry a heteromorph, a beast, like him. Dazedly, Shuichi looked around trying to find a handsome prince behind him you did a propose to. Then realized that there were no princes, no heroes, no another creatures behind him, Shuichi turned his eyes upon you and pointed the finger at himself. His facial expression almost exuded the unspoken question "me?". You nodded assuringly, and Shuichi realized that he was trapped. There was no way out. He fell in love with this brave little girl and this feeling will stay with him until the end of his days. Coming out of the trance, Shuichi shyly nodded. So the love story of a cute girl who always wanted to marry a mystical creature and awkward heteromorph who was absolutely head over heels with her started. Since early childhood the two of you have been inseparable helping each other with your quirks and the people who couldn't accept it. Your promise wasn't empty words for you two. A few month after your propose, little Shuichi gave you a promise ring. "I will marry you when I grow up. This's my promise to you", he said. He was so nervous and afraid that it was just a joke to you. But you just accepted the ring and, since then, you have been wearing it nonstop. Even years later, when you became a beautiful young woman, you continued to wear it proudly. It made Shuichi feel weak in his knees, because he couldn't believe that you love him back. The two of you went through fire and through water. And even though you and Shuichi joined the League of Villains you two still stayed more neutral having your own wishes and ideals. Of course, he did not forget his promise. And he kept his promise. One day Shuichi asked you out keeping in secret the place where you were heading to. He brought you to a playground, the place the two of you met for the first time and the place you proposed him. And as soon as you got distracted by nostalgic memories, Shuichi got down on one knee and said: "I love you very much. You have touched my heart and filled my life with purpose! Will you marry me?"

• Of course you agreed, so the two of you turned into an official married couple. Your villain friends are happy for you two very much and are already planning a wedding. Oh my God, they are so excited about it, they even forgot about their villain plains for a while much to the annoyance of One for All. But can we blame them? They love you to the moon and back, you're their family, you helped them and made their lives better.

Dabi: I'll be her witness at the wedding. No way I'll be a witness of this lizard. Spinner: Don't call me a lizard! And you're not welcome! Toga: You, foolish men, of course I'd be her witness! We are like a sisters! Gentle Criminal: Ladies and gentlemen, I apologize, but we decided that me and my dearest La Brava will be their witnesses! Only a happy loving couple can be their witnesses. Am I right, La Brava? La Brava: Yes, my Gentle! The League of Villains: Wait a minute, who are you and what are you doing here?

• Nothing special. They are just your friends who want to congratulate you. But we are a little distracted from the topic. • You and Shuichi are such a cute couple. You shower him with your love and affection, because you truly love and adore him very much. And Shuichi is your whipped simp, who is absolutely head over heels for you. He still feels that he is in a beautiful dream. Oh, how did he deserve you, he thinks. Fortunately, you are always here, with him, to assure him that you love him just the way he is. • It's a little funny, but Shuichi gets a bit jealous every time you mention that you like another mystical creature. Yes, he knows that it's childish, that he acts immature, but he can't help but wants to be the only one mystical creature in your life. Not that he shows it though. • Shuichi admires everything you do. He just can't understand how you can be so talented and do a lot of cool things. And this Goddess somehow fell in love with him? Did he save the world in a past life or something like this? And of course he joins all your hobbies and duties. Helping you is his life purpose. • Since you're a double agent and Shuichi spends his time with the League of Villains, the two of you meet mostly at night. But you two still find some time to enjoy each other's presence. Be it late night dates, sleeping together or doing chores, you are always together. And it makes your villain friends feel lonely sometimes, but also gives them hope. The hope that even villains can love and be loved back.

Ship Tropes

• child married couple to adult married couple • beauty and the beast • "very affectionate" (you) x "truly enjoys it" (him)

Relationships

Shigaraki Tomura is your brother figure. He thinks of you as of his family and this fact will never change. Tomura loves the way you are so cheerful and caring. You're like a ray of sunlight that brightens the darkness of his life. It took some time but you and Tomura warmed up to each other pretty fast compared to other members of league. You are always calm and understanding, but not afraid of confrontation. Tomura started admiring you. He cares about you more that he'd like to admit. Family. This word always dredges up uncomfortable memories, but when it comes to you... Tomura can't come up with a better word than this. You're his family, he cares about you, he wants you to be happy. Even if it means that he had to stand against One for All to protect you. The two of you often play video games or watch movies together. His short temper can't ruin your relationship and Tomura is thankful for this. You also protect him and calm him and the league members down whenever they argue.

Chisaki Kai respects you a lot, even though there are some circumstances that don't let you respect him back. Despite this the two of you still get along pretty well. The way you're so neat and polite attracts Kai more than you think. Oh, he is in love with you. Sometimes Kai thinks that you put a spell on him, that he feels this way just because of your kitsune charm. But this's not true. At first he was attracted by your mysteriousness. Even though it seemed like your whole life is like an open book to him, you still were an enigma to him. He hates the quirks, the humans, he hates a lot of things but when it comes to you Kai realized that your presence doesn't annoy him at all. Otherwise every time the two of you spend time together, Kai enjoys it. That surprises him. Not that Kai is ready to realize his feelings or start his attempts to win you over, but you still can read between the lines and watch for clues that tell you this man has a crush on you.

Stain is an idol to your beloved Spinner, but your relationship somehow are more like family relationship. Stain respects your goals and ideals. He thinks that you would become a great hero he would admire if you'd like. But he also understands the reason why you joined the villains. With time, Stain started think of you as of his daughter. He watches over you from afar and protects you whenever you need his help. Unfortunately, the two of you have not a lot of time to spend together, but when you were still living in your little house, Stain loved surprising you with spontaneous visits. Your calm and peaceful life full of small miracles comforted Stain and allowed him to escape his own worries.

Tokoyami Fumikage met you for the first time when he visited your psychologist's office. Nothing special, it was a mental status determining after an another villains' attack. But somehow after this he started coming to you often. The reason? Well, Fumikage is still not sure. He just knows that with you he feels so comfortable. The way you adored his non-human form so much, made Fumikage feel happy and embarrassed him a little. Or not a little... You told him that he can visit you whenever he wants and you'll always be pleased to meet him. Fumikage is still nor aware that he has a little puppy crush on the gorgeous school psychologist. Until his classmates was mentioned that it could be possible. Honestly, you are very popular among UA students and they love visiting you and talking to you about daily stuff while you are treating them with tea and homemade sweets. So they aren't surprised that Fumikage has a crush on you, some of students are secretly in love with you too, they understand his feelings.

Shota Aizawa is the only person who may be aware of your true double agent identity. Especially since your kitsune charm sometimes doesn't work on him. Why sometimes? Because it doesn't work only when Shota activates his quirk, but he usually does it during the battles or lessons, so he has not enough time to realize it. Despite this, you and Aizawa have a really good relationship. The two of you often talk about your students and about their mental health. Shota admires your wisdom and love of children. Not to mention that it's so comfortable to be with you. You, their precious school psychologist, who is so welcoming and kind. You always treat students and teachers with tea and sweets, listening to their problems. Aizawa often finds himself in front of your door. He just wanted to have a safe space and ramble about his day with you. The two of you are a good friends.

[onfirebyday]

#6 the capture

I've decided to try out the audiobooks for this cycle of narrators (+ a Tobias book at some point). It'll be really interesting to hear each narrator's take on the characters. I think MacLeod Andrews does a good job matching the tone of the writing in this book, but I didn't love his Marco voice, and his Tobias sounds like such a dweeb. The Yeerk voice was really striking as a

Jake is the king of understatement, and it's really funny actually.

I've written the note "he likes Cassie sooo much" on two different occasions on this book. It's really sweet how established they are from the beginning, even though he still won't actually define their relationship (my best friend, my cousin, Cassie, and Tobias who I kinda knew)

I love that they devise an actual system for morph testing in this book, though I don't think they really do it again (at least on page)

this is definitely a point from one of the animorph podcasts I've listened to, but it is so funny that they have included writers as one of the high priority professions for infestations - of course a pair of writers would think that a writers influence if on the same level as a politician

god I love Ax being the one to see through the Yeerk's ruse - Marco and Cassie are too close, too trusting, but Ax is the outsider who doesn't even understand human behaviour (and is a bit more laser-focused on Yeerks) but can say confidently "no, that is not Prince Jake"

the Yeerk thinking Cassie is too soft, but she comes up with the Ax plan - so perfect, fits with her big character moments for the rest of the series

everyone planning in front of him, completely ignoring him is so great, you can see how competent they have become even though they only became all-in last book

and of course, the reveal that they had planned even more effectively separately to control the information available to the Yeerk *chef's kiss*

I love the moment when we have three Jakes - the real version, trapped, the Yeerk copy, and the morph copy. Real Jake unable to communicate, while everyone talks directly to him and Temrash tries to trick them, and Ax prepares to trick his family

and "the forest is full of your friends" 😭 it's so lovely and comforting after having the reveal that Temrash can morph his body (which Jake really should have realised but whatever)

I love AppleGrant's alien design so much, please please please tell me about the Ssstram and the Mak I know they never come back but I want to know soooo bad

@emeraldmew made the delicious parallel between the first and last chapters having Jake reflect on the creatures that are a part of him now (morphs, Temrash and his hosts), which is just so good, no notes

[fever-project]

Concept art for Animated LoZ movie where past heroes help out the new Link in their animal forms, although I’m very much stretching that definition haha.

Explanations:

Top Left: That’s actually one of the Shadows or Dark Links trying to get Link to do evil. Mocking and tempting him as they loom over the the walls of ruined structures in a creepy forest.

Top Right: LoZ1+2 Link coming in as a helpful fairy, showing Link how to spot blow-upable walls. I think it would be fun if that’s how Link gets around his first dungeon(cause there has GOT to be dungeons).

Bottom Left: AlttP Link showing the new guy how to use his Pegasus Boots!

Bottom Right: A little Minish(MC Link ;)) showing the right way for Link to go when he’s on the run from…something. Just follow the Minish and you’ll be fine 👍

Anyways join out community if you haven’t:)

[cerealmonster15]

SILVER DND SESSION UPDATE!!!!!!!

Silver is back at it again fucking it up stupid style 🫡

Still in Lilia's beach house, when everyone goes to sleep after last session events, Silver uses his unique magic and randomly lands in MAEVE'S DREAM where she is dreaming suspicious foreshadowing stuff in the middle of a forest. She snaps out of the dream really quickly though like as soon as she sees Silver

Silver gets straight to business making up for restraining Maeve in the fight from before, apologizing for the whole thing and explaining himself a little. She's still pissed off about it but she accepts the apology lol

HOWEVER............. While Silver is explaining himself, he makes a little oopsie and mentions that he's been out of sorts because of both Laurel's mom And Also Adrian's Dad (he was the only one who saw that dream and at this point is the only one in the group who knows anything about Adrian's situation at all)

Maeve asks how Laurel's mom and Adrian's dad are at all similar since she just knows Laurel's mom was really bad. Silver makes Another Whoopsie Doopsie and tells her every single thing that happened in Adrian's dream and his mom committing suicide 😭😭😭

Maeve is now very torn because on the one hand she hates liars and appreciates honest people. But on the other hand. That was a lot of private information sprung on her that Adrian did not tell Silver he could tell her 😭 she points it out too that he probably should NOT have said all that and Silver starts having an oh shit moment. The oh shit moment is going to get a lot worse because Maeve CANNOT keep quiet about secrets for long before blowing them up

SO....... Maeve wakes up which causes Silver to also wake up. Maeve finds Laurel on the floor asleep in her room and has a scene dealing with that, meanwhile Silver is Doing His Best To Wake Up Adrian Before Maeve Storms The Room

He does wake up from Silver's shaking, but hates actually getting up in the morning, and succeeds his persuasion roll for Silver to let him keep cuddling him lol 😭

It is very cute and immediately ended when Silver tells him he should get up because He Fucked Up Bad And Maeve Knows Everything,,, Adrian gets up with the most dejected face, asks why, and facepalms with so much disappointment when Silver just says Maeve asked so he explained it all 😭

After Maeve finishes dealing with Laurel sleeping on the floor, she comes loudly aggressively knocking on the door

Adrian: Now Who Do You Think That Is 😒

Silver: Maeve 😔

Adrian: And Why Do You Think She Is Here 😒😒😒

Silver: Because I told her everything 😔😔😔

Adrian:

Maeve yells that if one of them does not open the door for her, she's coming in anyway. Adrian groans and mumbles that he doesn't want to deal with this right now, Silver repeats louder for Maeve to hear that Adrian doesn't want to deal with this right now (much to his exasperation lol 😭) and Maeve comes in anyway

Maeve repeats Everything that Silver said in the dream word for word (very unfortunate because Laurel followed her without her knowing and now ALSO knows everything that Adrian has been trying very hard to keep a secret 😭😭😭) and asks him if that's all true. He is deeply uncomfortable now For Some Reason and says it's true

Maeve gets mad at that lol and asks why he's never told anybody he's been living alone with this asshole. Adrian gets mad at that also and says he never wanted anyone to know anything about what happened. They go back and forth and somehow both manage to get jabs at Silver in for his dumbassery causing all this 😭

Adrian sees Laurel as she's decided to stop snooping on all that and Walk Away, gets very overwhelmed that yet another person knows all his secrets, and storms out of the beach house 😔

Maeve leaves to go talk to Laurel & after calming Laurel down from hearing all that, they both go wake up Lilia for breakfast (forgetting at first what his cooking abilities are like, immediately regretting it, and ignoring his attempts to make them food to get breakfast delivered instead LOL)

Other room of 3 starts waking up and goes down for breakfast too. Lilia realizes that sonboy is missing and asks if he and Adrian are still asleep, sees the panic from Maeve and Laurel and deduces that They Are Not Asleep, and goes up to find Silver in his timeout corner he made for himself 😭

Silver is stubborn about explaining what happened because he is very uncertain about what things he should and shouldn't say now, but Lilia does eventually get enough out to know that Silver has told somebody else all of Adrian's issues and scolds him for it 😔 he says he should talk to Adrian about it soon but give him some time to calm down (Silver panics trying to figure out how soon is too soon and how much time is too much time ;;)

Thankfully for Silver being very easily distracted, bat papa notices Silver's bat tattoo and he gets to fondly explain that he got it while thinking of his father :) Lilia is excited about it and teases him for it, Silver gets Lilia's phone number for future uses, AND ALSO his magic ring that will allow him to control which dream he goes to for this campaign, and they go back down to eat 😌

After everyone eats for a while, they realize that Adrian is gone out of the beach house, and Laurel decides to be the one to go after him AND THAT'S WHERE SESSION ENDS!!!!!!!!!

We were fully planning on getting out of Lilia's beach house very early on in this session before Silver randomly got dropped in Maeve's dream and had his little whoopsie doopsie 😭😭😭 hopefully we will be done with everything at Lilia's beach house by the end of next session at least LOL plus Silver and Adrian need to make up really badly because I will feel sad the longer this goes on ;;

yaaaaay we love a cringefail prince type boy situation!!

OH GOD HES HAVING A CRINGEFAIL SITUATION SILVER NOOOO oh wait what. was it a suicide... i thought the dad straight up killed her in the altercation 🧍

OH GOD OH FUCK OH SHIT SILVER MY BOY ,, hes just a little guy,,,, honest to a fault,,, hes a little puppy dont be mad at him [hits him with the babyfication beam sorry silver you are so 17 and baby to me JKFLSDJKFLSDF] hes in time out.... oughhh wahhhhh god i dont think id ever have it in me to be mad at silver [or kalim. LOL] like shore given the circumstances i get it but like. me when a character didnt mean it: oughh but he didnt mean it... whys everyone so mad 🥺 jklJKLSHFKDLSJKF

but omg waughhh teenager interpersonal drama: the movie.... adrian having the worst time ever dear god free my boy what da hell 😭😭😭 godspeed silver....