#love having another fixation added to my collection

[123countwithme]

My travel partner came yesterday! I brought him so I have a plush that I could take around with me for a few reasons. Those being... it is a small plush I can put in my bag for going to work or anywhere else I'm helping out at, I can practice my photography skills with him, I like to get something for my interests/ fixations, TO NORMALIZE PLUSHIES IN PUBLIC cause if someone else sees a person carrying a plushie around then it will hopefully make people more comfortable to do it too and see that it isn't bad or something to be ashamed about, and to help me with my confidence in being myself and see that no one really truly cares what you do.

[oreo-creampie]

𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮/ 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: they are all soft for you, cock drunk!tired!reader, pussy drunk!trio, establish relationship, praise, praising degradation, oral, sucking on your nipples, kissing, fingering your asshole, triple penetration, toji eats the cum out of you, toji spits water into reader's mouth, squirting on toji's face, hinting at previously squirting on satoru's face, faint pain kink, overstimulation, mind break, light dacryphilia, gagging/choking

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧: anything with the roommate trio au 🤤

You don’t care to move, not when one of them can do it for you. Relaxing with the warm, heavy satisfying afterglow of cumming more times than you can count.

Suguru stuffs the mixture of his, Toji’s and Satoru’s thick, white warm cum into your sensitive, spasming dripping cunt. Clenching his fingers, the soft tongue of Suguru’s thick fingers rubbing your sweet spot easing you down from the intense stimulation.

He kisses your swollen clit. The pleasure bordering on painful. Suguru crooning, “Good girl, you did so well taking all our cum in your beautiful super soaker. I don’t want to stop just yet. Your so beautiful, and your cunt is so wet, and loud just begging for more.” Whining the sore ache of your beat up cunt adding to the sweetness of Suguru slowly fingering his, Toji’s and Satoru’s cum into you.

“Then don’t. But I’ll need something to drink soon.” Toji grabs the half-empty cup of water taking a sip. Then grabbing your hair pulling your head up, opening your mouth for him to press his lips to yours. Letting the cool liquid trickle past.

He pulls away, "You gonna be a good girl n’ take what we give you. Lay there lookin’ beautiful, I don’t care how tired you are. You can take it." Satoru sucks on your sore nipple, gently rubbing it with his tongue.

Another sip, and Toji let’s more trickle into your mouth. Swallowing the mouthful before Toji kisses you roughly. Biting your lip before slipping his tongue into your mouth.

Satoru groans before pulling away to croon, “She’s too tired to even move yet she wants more.” He trails kisses over your breasts, drifting up your collarbone.

Toji pulls away whilst Satoru croons, “Our princess is glowing from the sweat, cum, and from squirting so hard she soaked the bed, and my face. You look like you might fall asleep soon. Yet all your thinking of is getting fucked, good girl.” Toji tilts your head, exposing your neck for Satoru to trail up. Closing your eyes, trembling, your mouth dropping open with a sweet whine.

Suguru groans, “You’re so beautiful, so wet n’ warm my love.” Slipping slips his fingers out. Toji dips his head between, licking up the mess of cum seeping from your sensitive cunt.

Toji pumps his tongue in slowly, cleaning up the mess. Stopping only to insist, “You always squirt so much sweetheart. You can give us one more, can you? Be a good girl and make a mess on my face.” Gliding his tongue past your soft lips, roughly grabbing your hips.

Satoru dips back down to your tits. Sucking on your nipple with a groan. Sinking in his teeth slowly till you whine, feebly squirming. He laces his fingers through yours before pulling away with a soft pop. Kissing the three-band engagement ring that compliments the different rings Suguru, Satoru, and Toji wear.

Satoru whines, “I can’t wait to see you in your wedding dress. Iori and Shoko won't tell me a single detail about it. Please just give me a clue, so I can dream about you in a wedding dress more accurately.” He tugs on your nipples, fixated on playing with them.

Smiling, working up the energy to taunt Satoru with, “Where is the fun in that? You’ll nnn ngg! Toji!” He pumps his tongue faster, stroking your clit with a rough thumb. Whilst swirling your asshole with two fingers, gliding them past. Both your holes clench.

Suguru urges Satoru, “It will be worth the wait, and we will have a collection of pictures up for you too admire our princess to your heart’s content.” Feebling jerking your hips back, Suguru grabs your thigh and pins it to your side. Satoru follows suit. Pinning you in a mating press for Toji to keep eating you out.

Whining, “Sug! Kisses!” Unable to keep your eyes open, puckering your lips. Making faint kisses sounds. Satoru steals the kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth. Tasting yourself on his tongue, whining into his mouth. Craving more.

Suguru indignantly claims, “Thief!” Suguru grabs Satoru’s hair, pulling causing him to groan and pull away. “Those are my kisses. Stop moaning like a whore.” Suguru dips on for a kiss whilst Satoru pulls away, firing back.

“Don’t pull my hair if you don’t want me to sound like a slut. ‘Side our princess gets off on the way I sound, don’t you. Isn’t that why you ask for videos of me jerking off?” Parting your lips for Suguru to slip his pierced tongue past.

Groaning into his mouth, your sensitive soaking wet cunt quivering around Toji's tongue. Your slick dripping down to your asshole which Toji stuffs in with each quick pump of both his thick, rough fingers.

He adds a third, the stretch more comfortable than before after taking his fat, heavy cock moments ago. How could you be this thoroughly fucked out but crave more?

Suguru breaks the kiss, looking at Satoru. “She asks all of us? It's a group chat.” Satoru doesn’t care, dipping his head to kiss you roughly. Whilst your cunt spams around Toji’s tongue, gushing on his face.

Toji groans, not pulling away till the last of your pussy juices squirt into his mouth. Pumping his fingers into your asshole quicker, riding you through your intense high.

Toji glides his fingers out of your ass, pulling away. “That’s it, good girl. Squirting twice for us, letting us fuck you to sleep. I guess that’s when we will stop, when you say the safe word or you can’t stay awake anymore.” He grabs the disinfectant wipes, cleaning off the fingers before grabbing his cock lines himself up.

Suguru asks him, "Which hole are you fucking, let me get the other one." Satoru lets your thigh go, stroking your nipple with his soft thumb. Pinching and pulling, you could feel it in your clit.

"Let me get underneath her." Suguru moves away, letting your thigh go, as Satoru grabs your hip moving your body for Toji to take up the middle of the large bed. Satoru breaks the kiss.

Toji grabs you, helping you settle on top of him. Mustering the energy to grab his heavy, veiny cock, holding him up. "So you have enough energy to be a cock hungry slut? Nothing else?" Melting when Toji sinks you down on his cock. Your asshole pleasurably stretching for Toji's cock.

Satoru grabs your neck, guiding his cock close to your face. Jerking off to your expressions as you get your ass fucked by Toji's thick cock. His firm grasp on your hip keeps you from running away from his thrusts.

"I wanna keep cumming, love having my cunt played with. It feels so good! I'm so sensitive, don't wanna stop! I can take it, please don't stop!" Your jaw drops with a loud moan that Satoru cuts off by shoving his cock into your mouth.

Toji slows his thrusts, you can feel his veins and the texture of his skin better with each lazy thrust. Suguru lines himself up, swiping his cock along your plush lip. Slapping your clit twice, quickly gliding himself past your lips.

Toji and Suguru's thick cocks stretch your sensitive asshole and soaking wet cunt to the point of a thin strip of skin between feels nonexistent. You can't think, you can only feel all their cocks pumping into every one of your holes.

Clenching both cocks as they pick up their pace in tandem. Satoru moans, "Nnn love making you choke on this cock till you cry. Come on princess let me see your pretty tears." He doesn't let up, taking quick deep shallow pumps. Keeping his cock buried deep in your mouth, gagging you till he sees you crying.

"That it, fucking take it like a good slut. Nnng." He pulls his cock out for a moment, then stuffs himself balls deep. "You should see her face, looks like we broke our beautiful mama. There is not a thought going through her head. The pure pleasure on her face our princess is in heaven getting filled up and fucked stupid."

strawberry brat all works

[euaphora]

“YOU KNOW IM A SEXOHOLIC, IM SO ANXIOUS!”| part1

colleague!kento who saw you the following monday with a weary look plastered on your face while you looked down at the paperwork being overdue, you boss loved giving you a hard time after you rejected him— kento knew this so he could only do so much to give you a better job experience.

colleague!kento who came up to your working cubical, he saw you added another small pin to your collection hung up on clipboard along with a new set of pens you bought. He watches you stress about all the paperwork scattered around the table and listens to your pleading sighs.

colleague!kento who calls you from behind —barely resizing he was standing behind you this entire time, “did you need something?” you asked in a sweet tone, he shakes his head at you at gives you a warm smile, “no I just saw how much work you had due and was wondering if you needed any help?”

colleague!kento who brings his chair from his cubicle to yours so he can fill in the boxes you had missed when you were just trying to finish up and leave to go home to your cat, he saw you wanting to pack up and leave the moment he saw you.

colleague!kento who asked, “since it’s the only the two of us left, would you want to put some music?” he asked while making marks on the paper. “i didn’t even realizing everyone else had gone home..god what time is it?” you sighed, leaning back against the head of your chair.

“12:34” he answered, checking his watch, “He needs to lay off you, nobody here gets this much paper work in a day.” Kento pointed out, looking at your relaxed body suddenly tense up at the thought of your boss.

“Exactly he’s only doing this because…anyways, see this is why your my favorite coworker, Nanami.” You giggle— opening your eyes to look in his direction only to already be meeting his gaze looking down at your body. He quickly fixated his gaze back to the paperwork and clear his throat, “Nanami, we’re you just starting at my chest?” You question him, watching his body language.

“O-of course not, then that would be unprofessional of me..” he quickly explained, nervously laughing it off. You hesitate at first but push yourself of your chair and go up to him, your legs in between his. He looks up at you and grabs the hem of his tie, “is it getting hot in here?”

“Don’t try and change the subject, you want me..don’t you?” You lean down to meet his gaze, getting real up and personal with him. He accepts his fate and admits his feelings, “You have no idea.” He stated, pulling you in by your hips only for you to be straddling his legs, you feel the pump of his muscle in between your folds.

“Wanna ride my leg, bunny?” He asked, teasingly tilting his head to the side while brushing off the stands of hair blocking his view to look at you. You suddenly feel like the shy one now, nodding.

You go onto right leg and slowly pick up your pencil skirt while rocking your hips back and forth, maintaining eye contact with him the entire time while he unbuttoned your dress shirt. “They sit so perfectly..” he said, holding them in his cold, slender hands— felling how warm and plump they are. He easily unclipped the back of your bra, only to wrap his mouth around one— younger lapping over the nipple while the other gets pitched and pulled by his fingers.

“Careful, princess. Don’t be trying to push me away now.” He demands, pulling your hair into a make shift monytail, giving you a soft slap in your cheek.

You push your head back at the euphoric feeling, letting out several pornagraphic moans slip out your mouth, heavy pants joining after. He feels you stutter your hips, knowing your almost close. “Cmon baby, just a few more thrusts…you got it.”

Feeling a knot in your stomach, you hold him by the torso— letting out huffs while rolling your eyes to the back of your head when he slaps your ass and rubs the soft flesh after.

“Cumming! I-im fucking cumming..”

Nanami suddenly feels a wet spot form on his leg, making him give you a quick kiss on the lips so you could still have some air to breath after your earth-shattering orgasm.

“Bend over.”

You pick your head up from his broad shoulders and look up at him, “does he want what I think he does?” You thought while getting up from his lap to lay down on your desk, watching him pull his pants down from behind you. “Let me know if it’s too much…alright, princess?” He reassured, giving you a quick heads up like if he was over nine inche-

He pushed the head of his cock inside you— feeling your velvet walls squeeze him “greedy little pussy,huh?” He shuddered, making you get cut off by your own thoughts. “S-shit.” was all you could slip out before he slipped himself fully inside you, giving you time to adjust to the size, knowing you couldn’t handle it.

He starts pumping his cock while completely ignoring your pleads, “S-slow down…your so deep inside me, Nanami!” You let out a loud moan, feeling hot tears slip out of your now watery eyes.

“It’s only half of me, bunny.”

You felt your head spinning with from what he just said, he felt your walls clenching again, feeling himself reach closer to the edge when the knot on his stomach tightened.

“kentopleaseimgonnacum!” You scream out, thankfully nobody was here so you could let out a loud cry. He slides his veiny fingers inside you mouth, hearing you gag in his fingers, “come on my cock, sweet girl mmm go right ahead you deserve it f-for being good all week..my good girl.”

He leaks his seed inside you while you cum on his cock the same time, feeling your pussy tighten all over again— making it hard for him to pull out. “Oh, you sweet thing, can’t get over this pretty greedy pussy.”

The next morning when your boss came to work, he checked the cameras to see you both in your cubicle, his cum leaking out your pussy while he cleaned you up, giving you a kiss on your forehead.

[worldlxvlys]

slow down

boyfriend! chris x reader

warnings: smuttttt, semi-public sex (is it semi?), fingering, hand fixation

if there was one thing chris enjoyed, it was going to a party.

and because we were practically attached at the hip at all times, i was always there with him.

so when chris asked me to go with him to tonight’s party , it was no surprise.

what was surprising, however, was how good chris looked.

don’t get me wrong, he always looks good. but there was something different about tonight.

there was slight stubble decorating his face, and his hair was slightly messy.

he wore a sleeveless top, showing off his arms.

god, i love his arms. and his hands.

we had only been at the party for an hour or so, and all i could think about was his hands.

if he noticed my constant staring at them, he didn’t say anything about it.

the smallest of his actions turned me on even more.

his hand on the small of my back, the feeling of his breath against my ear as he whispered to me, even him playfully flipping his friends off.

i need that finger inside of me.

i did my best to push aside my horny thoughts and enjoy the party.

but, my last straw was when i heard “slow down” begin to play.

immediately, i grabbed chris’s hand and pulled him to a couch in the back of the room.

“hey, look! it’s chase-” before he could finish i pushed him onto the couch, straddling his lap.

tell me what it is you wanna know

finish up the bottle then we’ll go babe

his eyes widened in shock, but he immediately grabbed my waist.

waste a little money on some blow

she said, “won’t you have a little?” i said “no way”

i brought my face close to his, our noses brushing “i know” i said before pressing kisses on his jaw.

he let a groan out at this, his hands trailing under my skirt and grabbing my ass.

i pulled my face away from his jaw before smashing my lips onto his.

i don’t know if you already know how

but girl i got the feeling that you know now

i tilted my head, deepening the kiss as i ran my fingers through his hair.

he groaned into my mouth, digging his fingers into my ass.

you’re buried in the pillow, yeah you’re so loud

but i’m about to show you, baby, slow down

the kiss was desperate and rushed, as i continued to grab his hair and tug on it.

he pulled away for a second, his lips now puffy and bruised as he let out a groan.

“want my fingers, baby?” he asked as his hand found its way into my underwear.

so he did notice my staring.

“fuck yes” i whispered back.

he pressed his lips to my neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses on my skin as he slid a finger through my folds.

push a little further on the edge

crawl a little further on the bed, babe

“shit, chris” i whispered.

he collected my wetness on his finger and pushed it into my entrance, fucking me with his finger from behind.

luckily, my skirt was just long enough to hide chris’s movements from anyone else.

his free hand reached under my top, running it along my stomach and finding its way under my bra.

he took a nipple into his finger and began to flick and roll it, making my head fall back.

she said, “fuck me like i’m famous”

i said, “okay”

he quickly added another finger into my pussy, making me moan out, “shit, chris!”

the sound didn’t travel far as the loud music that echoed in the room drowned out the noise.

he closed the distance between us once again, moving his lips against mine.

slow down, slow down.

i’m about to show you, baby, slow down.

it was almost comical how incredibly fast chris’s fingers moved inside of me, as the lyrics of the song played out.

chris’s hand that was on my nipple made its way under my skirt, rubbing circles on my clit.

i detached my lips from his, dropping my head forward to cry out into his shoulder.

slow down, slow down

i’m about to show you, baby, slow down.

i moved my hips, now rocking them into his hand, desperately chasing my release.

if anyone looked over, it would be obvious what was going on in the corner, but that didn’t stop me from grinding into his hand.

“chris! i’m gonna cum! fuck!” i whined out as he continued to plunge his fingers into my wet walls.

“yeah? come on, baby. wanna feel you dripping down my fingers”

my eyes rolled into the back of my head and my back arched as my orgasm washed over me.

i whimpered and groaned as the aftershocks of the orgasm caused me to twitch and squirm on top of him.

he helped me ride out my high before pulling his fingers out.

i watched as he brought his glistening fingers to his lips, licking my juices off of his hand slowly.

i stared with wide eyes, breathing heavily.

“you know, i think this might be my favorite chase atlantic song” he smirked at me.

masterlist

tag list: @lovingsturniolo @lustfulslxt @gwenlore @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sturnspepsi @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @chrisdevora @cupidsword @nickmillersn1gf @stramboli4life @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @vib3swithanuk @ciarasturn1 @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @rheaakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @abbie13sworld @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @sturns-posts @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf

[batmanlovesnirvana]

Chapter six | cold truth & cigarettes.

masterlist

universe : reeves, the batman 2022

pairing : battinson!bruce wayne x fem!OC

words : +3K

author's note : This chapter is personal and touches on some political themes. It was originally meant to be 10k words, but I decided to post the first half on its own since it feels really important. I hope you'll stick with it until the end and share your thoughts. We dive deeper into Maryam's past and her traumas, and I'd love to know if you enjoyed it! Feel free to reblog and comment—your feedback really motivates me to keep writing. English isn't my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes in advance xx

cw : Maryam having an emotional existential crisis (part 2), political themes, mention of wars, 18+, thriller, medical procedures, angst, mental health issues, depression, ptsd, noire, canon-typical violence, POV alternating, gritty, horror, illness, slow burn, action, fluff, mutual pining, forced proximity, crime families, crime, fighting ect… read at your own risk

SHE HAD SWORN she would stop smoking. Promised herself, really. 

But the urge was too familiar, too persistent and promises made in the quiet of her mind always crumbled in the noise of reality. With a sigh, Maryam fumbled through her pocket, feeling the familiar shape of the cigarette pack. She pulled one out, placing it between her teeth, cursing softly as her fingers scrambled to find a lighter in the depths of her bag. 

She remained rooted to the spot where the Bat—or was it the drifter?—had left her, the faint echo of his departure lingering in the cold air.

The flicker of the flame caught the cigarette, and she took a deep drag, feeling the burn in her chest.

A voice broke through the silence behind her. "Boyfriend?"

She turned slightly, hazel eyes landing on a homeless man curled up on a worn mat, his face barely visible beneath the grime of the streets.

Maryam exhaled slowly, the smoke unfurling from her lips before she coughed. "Uh—what? No," she muttered, pulling the cigarette away, trying to collect herself, to straighten her thoughts along with her posture.

The man chuckled then coughed, a low, gravelly sound. "My bad then."

She took another drag, staring at the ground, fixating on a piece of gum stuck to the pavement. "Why'd you think that?" she asked, trying to sound indifferent, crossing her arms as she tapped ash from the cigarette.

He clacked his yellowing teeth together, his grin crooked. "The way you looked at him, I guess."

Maryam huffed, smoke swirling around her. "Looked at him how?"

"Like he could save you," the man said, his voice softened by the cold night air.

Her jaw tightened, irritation flaring. "Yeah, well... I don't need saving."

"Sure, sure," he replied, pulling a threadbare blanket tighter around himself. "People like you... don't need nobody, huh?"

His words hit her like a cold slap, it lingered in the air, mingling with the smoke. 

Maryam's eyes drifted to him, and after a long minute, she noticed his clothes—old, worn, but unmistakable. 

Veteran. 

The sight made her stomach tighten.

She fucking hated US veterans. Hated everything they symbolized. 

When she was younger, she'd seen the videos—those staged reunions where soldiers came back, surprising their children with hugs and tears. It happened all the time at her school, too. Soldiers, returning from some war she couldn't even place, cheered like heroes. 

But what had they really come back from? Murdering Middle Eastern children? Destroying families? Cities? Entire Countries? They weren't heroes in her eyes—just puppets in some propaganda machine, painted with a patriotic brush.

"You're a soldier," she said absently, the words tasting bitter as she blew out another puff of smoke.

"Yes, miss" hesitant he added." Iraq." His voice was low, almost careful.

Her body went rigid. The cigarette wavered in her hand. "Oh." She looked anywhere but at him. 

Once again, silence enveloped the space, thick and unspoken, as she fought to suppress the anger tightening her chest. It was a silence as cold as ice, unforgiving as a winter wind, suffocating in its weight.

Every breath dragged, bitter with words she couldn’t say and memories that cut deep.

The silence pressed in, forcing her to face wounds still raw and the injustices clawing just beneath her skin.

"How lovely." she says sarcasticly-- scratch that harshly. 

His bloodshot eyes looked anywhere but her, as if he was ashamed. "You don't seem--"

Before he could say another word, her patience snapped. “My uncle was Iraqi,” she bit out, her eyes sharp enough to kill. “Mohamed Rajab,” she added, almost to herself, the name barely a whisper as her gaze drifted, leaving the words heavy in the air.

His name felt almost foreign, the syllables heavy on her tongue, a relic of a past she could barely grasp. It had been years since she last spoke it aloud, and now it emerged as if from the depths of a grave—another ghost haunting her sorrow and grief. Each utterance was like a whisper from a forgotten time, bringing with it a rush of memories tinged with both warmth and despair.

The man shifted slightly on his mat, but said nothing, just watching her through tired eyes.

Maryam's mind drifted back, further into memories she rarely allowed herself to visit.

Aunt Jamila's husband. 

He had been in Iraq when the invasion began, a last-minute decision to return and bury his mother, unaware that fate would trap him in a storm of chaos and war.

Caught in the storm of chaos and war, his gentle soul trapped beneath the weight of bombs that fell from skies blackened by imperial greed.

Her sweet uncle had died there, under the bombs of imperialism, crushed by the same hands that wrapped themselves around countries, tearing them apart for power, for oil, for nothing at all. His life extinguished in an instant, another casualty in a conflict that cared little for the human cost.

His memory felt so distant now, like an echo from another lifetime, fading with each passing day. She could barely picture his face anymore, but she could still recall the way he always carried Turkish candies in his pockets—those delightful little treats with a gooey liquid center that melted in your mouth. They were her favorites. He would pull them out with a smile, passing them to the neighborhood children with a wink, even when times were hard. He had owned a modest market, a small shop that was the heart of their community, and somehow, it was enough.

Life had felt rich and full.

But then, the invasion happened. When the first bombs fell, he had still been in Iraq, still burying his mother, caught in the chaos with no way out.

They had clung to hope, waiting for him to return, believing against all odds that somehow he would make it back to them. But hope dwindled with each passing day, and the stark reality settled in.

He never made it back.

—In fact, none of his family made it out. All decimated. Dust.

She vividly recalled the day they received the news. How Aunt Jamila had screamed, collapsing in the kitchen, her wails piercing the air like shards of glass, as if her very soul had been ripped from her body.

Aunt Meysa had rushed to comfort her, cradling the pregnant woman as best she could, while her own heart shattered in the chaos.

Uncle Fawzi stood frozen by the window, his expression blank, eyes gazing into a world that had suddenly lost all meaning. The silence in the room felt suffocating, heavy with despair.

She had felt so small, so powerless, standing in the doorway, a mere shadow watching her family break apart yet again under the weight of another curse, another war that had ensnared them as if they were trapped in a nightmare with no escape.

It shattered Aunt Jamila. Destroyed her in ways Maryam could never fully comprehend.

Just months away from welcoming her first child, her aunt had been filled with hope despite the growing unrest. But the news of Mohamed's death, along with the obliteration of his entire family, became an unbearable burden. Soon after, she lost the baby, her first and last child, snuffed out before it ever had a chance to take a breath, a ghost that would never exist.

Maryam remembered how Aunt Meysa had told her there wasn't even a body to bury—only fragments, pieces of him scattered beneath the rubble, indistinguishable from the wreckage of their lives. The bombing had torn through their home, their neighborhood, leaving behind only silence and ash, memories mingled with dust.

But the worst part wasn't just the loss; it was the haunting loneliness that followed, a void that swallowed everything whole. The suffocating silence pressed in from all sides. There was no one to talk to, no one who would listen or care. The world had already made up its mind. 

In the post-9/11 haze, everyone was too engrossed in their own lives, too willing to swallow whatever narratives their governments fed them—stories of freedom, democracy, and the relentless fight against the so-called "enemy of democracy."

To them, people like Mohamed or Fawzi weren't fathers or husbands; they were mere abstractions. They weren't human. They were branded as terrorists, Islamists, faceless bodies stripped of identity, marked for death by the sheer accident of their birthplace, by the faith they practiced, by the cultures they cherished and fought to preserve. 

Their stories were reduced to statistics in a news report, their lives devalued, dismissed as collateral damage in a war that felt more like a game of chess than a human tragedy. As if their existence was a mere footnote in a narrative that never considered them worthy of remembrance.

Just dirty little Arabs.

Muslim terrorists.

Violent by nature.

Enemies of the state.

Radical extremists.

Savages in a primitive land.

Maryam exhaled slowly, the smoke burning her throat as the weight of it all pressed down on her chest, threatening to suffocate her under the collective grief, the unshed tears, the rage against a world that refused to see them as anything but monsters.

At this point, it felt like everyone had become desensitized to the images—Middle Eastern children blown to bits, their small bodies crumpled in the debris, their faces smeared across the news like they were nothing more than statistics.

It was as if the world had decided that this was their fate.

As if suffering was something they were meant to endure, something woven into their existence, to be endured without question, without grief.

When she thought about her uncle— she thought about the stories her family never fully told, but hinted at in the silences around the dinner table, in the careful way they avoided certain topics. He had been proud once, she remembered that much. Proud of his land, his people.

Until the war came.

Until everything was shattered.

She glanced back at the homeless man, her thoughts spiraling in the quiet of the early morning. He had probably seen the same horrors, lived through the same lies, though from the other side of the world. 

Maybe, in some twisted way, they both knew what it was like to be used. To be broken. 

But the difference was, people like him got to come home.

She never really did. 

The image of her uncle, buried beneath the rubble, under a sky choked with smoke and the deafening roar of jets, felt far too vivid now. It wasn't just a memory—it was a living thing, clawing at her insides. This was the kind of war that had seeped into her bones, the kind that had stolen so much from her family. 

And for what? So they could craft stories of heroism, tales of sacrifice? So soldiers could return draped in glory while the dead lay nameless in the dust, forgotten?

She glanced toward the American flag fluttering above the bank entrance just down the street, its colors stark against the gray sky. 

It felt like a cruel joke. 

After everything, after fighting so hard to earn a place here, to get their nationalities, to be accepted—and yet here she was, haunted by wars and destruction she couldn't escape.

Her throat tightened, and she took a drag from her cigarette, letting the smoke fill her lungs. She forced herself not to flinch, not to let the bitterness bleed into her face. 

She couldn't afford to.

The man shifted on his mat, his earlier bravado gone. His eyes softened, narrowing as if he'd begun to understand something unspoken between them. "I see," he said quietly, the weight of his words pressing down on the silence between them.

There was something else now in his voice—recognition, maybe even guilt. "War's... hell for everyone, I guess."

Hell? She swallowed, her throat constricting against the rising tide of grief. Hell didn't even begin to describe it. 

War wasn't just hell. War was a thief. 

It stole everything that mattered—lives, homes, futures—and left behind nothing but wreckage.

Iraq hadn't felt like a war. 

Srebrenica hadn't felt like a war. 

It had felt like being trapped in a nightmare, watching everything you love get torn away while the world pretended to care. It wasn't just the soldiers, the so-called heroes, who suffered. It was the forgotten, the nameless, the ones like her. The ones whose stories would never make it home. 

The ghosts.

She couldn't reply right away. Her voice felt fragile, like it would shatter the moment she opened her mouth. Instead, she stared at the flag, its proud flutter a mockery of everything she had lost, everything the world didn't care to remember.

Finally, she muttered, her voice low and rough, "Yeah," flicking the ash from her cigarette to the ground. "Hell for everyone."

But even as she said it, she knew hell didn't cover it. Hell didn't tear you apart in the same way; it didn't erase you from the world, didn't let history move on while you were still standing there, bleeding from the inside like a wound that refused to heal.

An agony that seeped into your bones, a gnawing ache that twisted your insides and left you gasping for breath, like drowning in the memories of those lost, memories that clung to you like shadows, haunting every moment.

Maryam's gaze stayed locked on the crumbling asphalt beneath her sneakers. The cigarette burned slowly between her fingers, but she didn't feel the heat. She didn't want to look at him. Didn't want to see whatever expression he'd try to wear—whether it was pity, guilt, or some hollow understanding. 

None of it mattered.

Her thoughts drifted back to her uncle once again, the one no one spoke about anymore. 

Him and her parents. 

Her brother. 

Her extended family.

The ones her family treated like ghosts, too painful to mention.

As if grieving them was poison. 

His memory hung in the silence of family dinners, in the way they tiptoed around certain topics, like stepping on landmines. Her uncle Mohamed had been proud once. She could still see it, the way his eyes used to light up when he talked about his land, his people.

But the war had come, and with it, destruction. He had fought to hold onto something, anything, but in the end, everything was shattered.

She remembered the stories she overheard late at night, when her family thought her and her siblings were asleep. Stories about how they found him—or what was left of him and his family. 

The land he had bled for, loved so fiercely, had turned to ashes, just like him. 

They just didn't talk about the aftermath.

They didn't talk about the ones who didn't make it home—not really. Because once they were gone, they were gone. 

Erased.

But Maryam hadn't forgotten. Couldn't bury it. Not like they had.

She could still feel the weight of them—the stories that were never told, the grief no one could bear to speak of. The silence in the wake of everything they had lost. 

Her uncle's pride, his dreams, had been buried along with him, forgotten by a world that kept spinning as if none of it had ever mattered.

But she was still here. Still carrying that weight, those memories that wouldn't fade. The anger that wouldn't let her rest.

She took another drag, the smoke filling her lungs, thick and bitter. She exhaled slowly, watching it curl up into the air, dissipating like the lives of the ones lost to wars no one cared to remember. 

Finally, she glanced at him, her voice hollow. "You don't know the half of it."

He didn't respond right away. The silence between them stretched, thick and uncomfortable, like the weight of all the unspoken things that had nowhere to go. She didn't care. She certainly didn't need his words, didn't need his sympathy or whatever hollow platitude he might offer. 

There was nothing he could say that would fix it.

The doctor crushed the half-finished cigarette on a near bin, grinding it into metal of it with deliberate motion. Watching the embers fade, snuffed out like the lives lost to senseless wars.

It felt like a ritual—something small, something pointless—but it was the only control she had left.

He shifted beside her, the mat creaking beneath him as he adjusted his weight.

She could feel his eyes on her, but she refused to meet his gaze, to acknowledge his presence. What could he possibly understand? He wasn't the one standing in the rubble, watching everything he knew burn to the ground. He wasn't the one left behind, forced to sift through the ashes of a shattered life, desperately searching for remnants of hope amidst the devastation.

No, he was the one who had taken part in it all—the one who had marched into the chaos, while she remained trapped in the wreckage, haunted by the ghosts of those she had lost.

"Look..." he began, his voice hesitant now, unsure. "I didn't mean to—"

"Save it," she cut him off, the sharpness of her voice slicing through the air like a blade. "I've heard it all before." She wrapped her arms around herself, more to keep the memories from spilling over than from the chill in the air.

His silence was answer enough. He wasn't going to push, and she was grateful for that—grateful for once that someone didn't try to offer solutions to a problem that couldn't be solved.

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to steady herself. The air tasted like smoke and rain, thick with the scent of something burning far off in the distance.

Maybe it was just her imagination, but it felt too close, too real—like the wars were still with her, clinging to her skin and sinking into her bones, refusing to let go.

"You must have seen a lot over there," Maryam said quietly after a while, the words barely more than a murmur, as if they weren't hers to ask. Each syllable hung in the air like a fragile promise, a flicker of connection in the suffocating silence that surrounded them. 

"More than I care to remember," he replied. His voice was rough, but there was something hollow behind it, as if he were speaking through a fog of memories he couldn't shake. "Lost a lot of good men. Did things... none of us should've had to do."

The confession hung heavy in the night air. Maryam's heart thudded painfully against her ribs, a flood of memories threatening to surface—the wars she fled, the ruins she walked through, the faces of people she once knew. 

"And what, you think that makes it better? That you regret it now?" she asked, her voice harsher than she intended, breaking the delicate thread of understanding that had started to form.

The man sighed, a long, weary sound. "No. Regret don't fix anything, miss. But it's all I got now."

Maryam crossed her arms tightly, as if holding herself together.

The old anger still simmered, but it was tangled now with something else—something more complex, more painful. She wanted to hate him, like she hated the others. But standing there, hearing the exhaustion in his voice, it felt... harder.

After a long pause, she looked up at him for the first time, really looked.

His eyes were tired, bloodshot, bottles of alcohol laced around him but there was no defiance in them, no pride. Just a man, worn down by too many battles—some fought overseas, some right here on these streets.

She took a step back, blinking against the burning sensation creeping behind her eyes. "Doesn't change anything," she whispered, but the words sounded hollow, even to her.

"No, it doesn't," he agreed, pulling his blanket tighter around himself, retreating into the comfort of its worn fabric.

Maryam stood there for a moment longer, feeling the weight of the conversation settle deep in her bones. She wasn't sure what she'd expected—a confrontation, maybe, something explosive. 

But all she felt was tired. 

Tired of the anger, tired of the guilt, tired of the endless cycle of pain.

Finally, she forced herself to speak, her voice low and rough. "War doesn't end when the fighting stops. It stays with you. It eats away at everything you are, everything you thought you knew. And no one... no one cares about what it does to the ones left behind."

Her words hung in the air, thick with the weight of all the unsaid things she couldn't bring herself to explain. She had learned long ago that some wounds never healed. Some scars were too deep.

The man beside her said nothing, and for once, it was the right response. There was nothing more to say.

Finally, she turned, her gaze fixed ahead, and without looking back, she whispered, almost to herself, "They're all gone. And so am I."

She swallowed hard, surprising herself as she asked softly, "What is your name?" Her hands found their way to the pockets of her trench coat, searching for warmth or some semblance of comfort.

"Bryan Geoffray Jr.," he replied, his voice hoarse yet steady.

She nodded, her mind racing as she fished out three crumpled dollars from her pocket, placing them in his cup. 

It wasn't much, but it was all she had on her, a small offering in the face of shared despair.

Tears bloomed in his already bloodshot eyes, and she quickly looked away, uncomfortable under the weight of his gratitude. He whispered a thank you, his voice thick with emotion. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry for what we did."

"Take care of yourself," she said quietly, flicking the ash from her cigarette to the ground. As she turned to leave, she tossed another coin into the small pot in front of him, a small token of connection before breaking away.

She walked away then, leaving the stranger, the cigarette smoke, and the weight of her past behind her. But as she disappeared into the night, the memories stayed. 

They always did.

"Same to you, miss," he called after her, his voice trailing off into the cold air.

previous chapter | next chapter

...

[sirenmoth]

Winter Nights

Kyle 'Gaz' Garricks x GN!Reader

synopsis: as the snow falls, gaz decides a walk outside is great idea

domestic fluff, fluff, gaz being cute, icky cute couple stuff, romantic dates, snow fight, snow fights

Sitting on the sofa, mindlessly reading a book you bought a few weeks back from a small bookshop you found while mindlessly wondering around the airport terminal as you waited to pick Kyle up. You were already a chapter or two in, but so far heavily invested in the story that you found it difficult to put the novel down. Kyle stood in the open end kitchen that linked directly to the living room, watching you as you read, curled up into a ball with a blanket over your legs, eyes scanning over the words feverishly. Staring at you with hearts in his eyes, taking in the scene while the kettle continued to boil.

You both bought this place a year or so ago when you agreed to take a step further into the relationship, it was an open floor plan, kitchen and living room linking directly into each other, the single bedroom at the far end had a balcony which Kyle loved to put his plants on during the summer to give them fresh sunlight, you were in charge of them when he was away, he called them his ‘children’ and his ‘pride and joy’, much to your dismay since it was you who made sure they got enough sunlight and water. One of the things that sold you on the flat was the windows, they gave a wonderful view of the city below and an even more breathtaking view of the night sky above, even if it was difficult to see the stars thanks to the strenuous lights that polluted the sky above, it was nice to image them glistening down from above, mapping them out in your mind.

The click of the kettle finished boiling brought you both back to reality, turning your head up to look at the man reaching for two mugs, softly smiling at each other as you went back to your individual activities, the quiet clicking of the mugs and teaspoons as Kyle readied your respective hot drinks and bringing them over to the living room, placing them down on the table in front on the sofa. You moved the blanket as an invention for him, which Kyle happily accepted, making a large scene on trying to get comfortable, “Kyle, stop it! You're going to make me lose my page!” you laughed while jokingly making fun of his antics, giggling as he huffed every time he wasn't comfortable.

“Give me a minute, love” Kyle jested back, overexaggerating on rearranging the fluffy throw blanket draped over you both while finding a good position for you both to lay in, “We need to preserve heat, and the best way to do that is by cuddling really close” he responds with a smirk “Can’t have my darling getting cold now” Kyle added, wrapping his arms around your waist, and he snuggled into your side, his back against the back cushions of the sofa, “What’cha reading anyway?” You looked down at him briefly, watching his eyes quickly scan the page you’re on, trying to grasp the plot. Mindlessly you answer “Some book I picked up on the way at the airport while I waited to collect you,” before you can get another word out, Kyle shoots up from his spot, eyes fixated out the window with childish glee, confused you turn your gaze in the same direction and being greeted by the white flurry of snow, dancing around in the wind. 

You don’t think you’ve ever seen someone move that fast, observing as Kyle ran straight for the entrance to the flat, grabbing both your hats, coats, gloves and everything else you might need to go outside right now, walking back he gestures for you to sit up properly while he kneels down, fixing on your shoes, tying your laces and then carefully pulling you up and off the sofa to fix on your coat, and pulling you towards the door, hot drinks and a warm night in already completely forgotten. 

"Excited, are we?" You joke

"I've been in the desert's blistering heat for months now, let me have this."

The streets were relatively deserted at this time of the day, a few people going about their business, walking under the pale yellow lights of the street lights. Both of you, hand in hand as you strolled in your self-made winter wonderland, basking in each other’s warmth and company.  The wind whipped around you, harshly kissing your skin, causing you to shiver from the assault. Kyle being the well-trained soldier he is, picked up on this, stopping you both under a streetlamp as he undid his scarf “you really need to keep warm” he muttered, wrapping the piece of fabric around your neck, bringing a section up and over your mouth and nose “there, nice and warm” Kyle smiled, looking at you before his smiled dropped, shaking his head and removing his gloves. “Seriously, how do you survive without me?” he joked, taking one of your hands and carefully slipping it into his glove before repeating the process with the other one. Smiling once again, Kyle took your hand and continued walking, commenting on how pretty the snow looked in the lights. 

Trying to return at least one of the items of clothing, but he always refused, claiming he was trained to withstand the cold and that he'll be fine. Keeping you warm was his priority.

An hour or so into your spontaneous date walk, you stopped pretending to be amazed at the scenery, looking out at the snow covered trees, but in reality it was a cover to prank your ever-so-loving boyfriend. Making sure he was distracted, you crouched down slowly as to not make any sudden movements, scooped up a handful of snow and formed it into a ball before tucking your hand with the weapon behind your back, you made your way back over to Kyle, nuzzling into his side, looking at him with bright doe eyes as a way to get his guard down, then quickly shoving the handful of snow down his coat before taking a few cautious steps back as you watched him react to your little prank.

 “Fuck!” he cursed as the cold slush hit his skin, spreading all over his back, igniting his nerves in a cold chill across this whole body. Kyle shakes his coat trying to get the snow out, glaring daggers at you as you laugh at your own joke. Smiling playfully, he kneels down to gather a handful of fresh, fallen snow in his hands, “Two can play at this game.” He says, throwing the clump of white frost at you.

It hits your arm as you quickly dodge the attack, you smile back and pick up your own snow missile to throw back, Kyle dodges your throw with ease, laughing at your so called 'weak attempt', only to be silenced as you throw another one, hitting him square in the face. For what feels like hours, you both dodge and weave around each other in both successful and failed attempts to hit the other with the cold flakes that are falling from the sky, picking up clumps of white slush and shaping them into crude ball-like shapes until your hands are numb and cold to the touch, cheeks hurting from smiles as laughter, faces red from the elements. The cold eventually started to seep in, settling against your bones, deciding it was best to head back before either of you got sick, or slipped and fell, like Kyle almost did, even if he claimed that never happened.

Once back in the warmth, Kyle shedded off his jacket, shoes and hat before helping you with yours. He moved quickly, disposing of the long forgotten, now cold, cups as you found some comfy clothes in the closet that'll hopefully help you two of you warm up quicker. Handing Kyle his of clothes after you’ve changed, sending him to change as well as you fixed two new cups of freshly hot tea, walking to the couch and placing the cups down carefully and retaking your position under the blanket, book in hand. Kyle joining you after a few and retaking his place against your side, arms wrapped around your waist and head resting in the crook of your neck, listening to you read aloud, his eyes trained on the snowfall outside, a faint smile on his face as he closes his eyes, your voice and the faint sound of wind lulling him to sleep. 

[rosedere]

The Liyue Lotus and the Merchant from Snezhnaya (Pantalone x Fem Reader)

MDNI +18

Cw: kidnapping, Stalking, non con elements, Graphic violence (later chapters), Yandere content *will update as the series goes

Cross posted on AO3

Part 1,Part 2,Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Chapter 6: Blizzard/Found (you are here), Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10~

Synopsis: Unfortunately, The Regerator develops a fixation with you while you are working undercover for Yelan. And there’s no one who can get in his way of his prized Lotus.

This is our divide

Need to go our separate ways, I'm too scared if you stay

We'll hold another grudge, who am I to judge?

If I will wake up one day and miss you too much

Yeah, we play with high stakes, it's a risk I need to take

- 

Pantalone 

A blizzard was due anytime in Snezhnaya.

But that was the least of his concerns; he had already finished pretending to care enough about the slaying to the harbinger known as “La Signora” or Rosalynne-Kruzchka Lohefalter. 

Pantalone was taking his leave from the snowscape anyway now that the day of mourning was over. He just wanted to get back to his Lotus patiently waiting in his abode for his return.

You were always on his mind nowadays. More than before.

Adding to the collection of items he could obtain to win your love as he walked the streets and shops of the cold capital. He could only imagine your eyes lighting up as you read his letter and saw the items he so lovingly picked out for his Lotus

He knew he was incredibly close to finally unlocking your icy heart; he just had to keep being more persistent.

As he touched the custom-made silver and indigo veil in the boutique he could only imagine you under it while you walked side by side with him down the falling snow in the bustling city.

The thought crossed his mind when you had both retired for the night together he wanted badly to broach the topic with you. He had after all finally convinced you to Stay with him for the night.

But you only lay curled on the left side of the bed beside him.

Your face smushed into his chest as you peacefully breathed in rhythm beside him.

Finally relaxed, revealing your true beauty to him.

But every time he tried to wake you from your slumber you only nestled yourself further against him, pressing your naked self harder against him.

After the fifth time of trying to wake you he only signed frustrated at the dilemma.

He knew It'd be unfair to bring you without your say in the matter.

But the loneliness of being without his new bloom beside him was disheartening especially since he finally had what he had desired since he set eyes on you all those weeks ago.

Having to make the difficult decision once the mist began to rise and your head still tucked underneath his trimmed chest he slid you onto the silky pillows surrounding you. Dressing himself to be decent he went on with dressing himself for the long voyage ahead of him.

Once again hoping you'd surprise him by joining him as he cleaned himself in the spacious bathroom he was disappointed when he was ready only to be greeted by you now clinging to the dark satin pillow.

Pantalone only sat beside you watching you stir occasionally in your sleep. 

A few messy strains of hair fell across your face acting as a curtain over your face; he raised his glove only pushing the few hairs away from your face.

His gloved hand now stroking your cheek hoping to rouse you from your sleep.

Soft was what he remembered as he touched your now exposed cheek.

“Sir we must get going; the departure time was set several minutes ago” 

Pantalone only sighed.

Turning his attention back to you still nestled on the pillow he lowered himself, grazing his lips to your forehead before letting his smooth lips connect to your warm flesh.

“I'll see you as soon as I finish business my lotus” 

“Very soon”

- 

“My lord? I thought you weren't—”

The two fatuu's walked forward carrying his luggage onto the tall cruiseliner in front of them leaving Pantalone behind now stopped a few footsteps away from the fatui officer standing in front of the dock; shivering from the whipping wind and snow surrounding everyone present.

“I have finished my business here for now” Pantalone dismissed; his hand reaching for his jacket to pull tighter to his body being afflicted to the harsh below-zero winds.

“Ah but my lord the storm is over the waters a voyage would be difficult to Liyue harbor,” the officer said through chattering teeth.

“Normally I would heed a warning but I have something important to tend to back in Liyue” he clasped his gloved hands together; his eyes in a closed smile as he chuckled to himself, “Thankfully this should be my last trip back there” 

“Oh? To Snezhnaya?”

“Dear archons no” he waved his hand expressively, “I mean to Liyue; I'm officially moving back to the main northland bank” 

He was about to continue walking up towards the boarding plank eager to get out of the way of the now aggressive winds blowing his white coat up and down.

“Ah! Um lord Pantalone!”

Pausing he turned back towards the fatui officer standing against the harbor posts that lined the docks.

“Is it true my lord that you got engaged?”  

Pantalone's heart fluttered at the mention.

“If you are referring to my request to meet with the Tsaritsa and the rooster then you are correct”

“So then you do have someone?” 

Pantalone only nodded; the only sound surrounding them was the billowing winds blowing against his turned back.

“Is it Nyla?” the soldier asked, Pantalone stiffened. 

“She has been mentioning you a lot recently”

“There is nothing between me and her anymore”  

The timbre of his voice felt colder than the snow flying past the two.

“Now if you're done gossiping I have to leave”

Pantalone with an annoyed scoff adjusted the warm coat once more over his torso before flipping the hood underneath his heavy jacket the dark fur surrounding his face.

Walking along the slippery dock into the heavy white flurries surrounding the baffled officer.

“My lord there you are”

Pantalone only passed a glance before entering the open cabin doors and boarding the luxury liner.

walking amongst the low-hanging lights to the back of the ship; his quarters.

It was made to be a replica of his office and home in Snezhnaya just as his Liyue estate had been made; the same purple and blue motif; gems fixed to either side of his smaller queen-sized bed directly in front of him across from the room under the wide window. His smaller Sneznhayan oak wood desk and chair sat against the dark jewel-toned lights all spaced evenly from each wall plane. Shedding his coats on the coat racks beside the entrance he was only left in his plain underclothes consisting of a long dark navy blue turtleneck and wool slacks.

Immediately approaching his desk he reached for his journal leather bound and still lingering with a cold feeling as he opened the cover to the last page he had written in. He had written a few words in the blank space of the journal. Initially telling himself he'd have some inkling of what to write when he arrived in Snezhnaya, but then it just became even more difficult when he was settled in the palace.

But now he was alone.

“Lián, I promise to be the best husband and—”

He only scrunched his face at the sentence written several weeks ago.

Crossing the sentence out he began on the next page.

“I promise to be able to fulfill my vow to you as your husband”

“And to stand by your side during the roughest of times”

Huffing he dropped the pen letting it roll towards the edge of the desk.

Pantalone supposed he could sleep on it, it seemed from the now rocking boat that they were going to be docked for the rest of the night.

Delaying him further to see the warm environment that was Liyue a few more days longer.

-

…

You had sworn the ledge to the secret entrance was in the bathroom.

But after your bath, you tried to slide the stone in the exact sequence you did the previous evening.

All that happened was the rugged edge of the tub to break off into your hands. Assuming you misremembered you pulled the outermost border of rock lining the tub.

All that happened was the rock staying firm in place.

“Lián? What are you doing”

Stopping your action of feeling the rocky surface you only stayed in place; your naked back facing Galina.

“here; let's get you a towel” she sighed going towards the bamboo rack in the upmost corner of the cavernous wall.

“I'm going to have to inform Fedor about the bathtub—” she sighed “If our lord comes home and sees the chip in his tub he'll be so upset” She scurried towards you wrapping you with the towel before she stood you up in front of the mirror leaning against a golden basinet across from the large tub.

She began to pull out a small bag; inside were different combs and accessories including what looked to be expensive hair care products.

“Why the fancy hair today?” You asked glancing back at the bag set on top of a rock near the tub's edge.

Galina only began to dry your hair between her hands with the towels beside her.

“I can't reveal much” She leaned down combing and adding something with a sweet milky honey aroma onto your hair.

“But you definitely can not go to sleep today” Galina brushed through the back of your hair.

“I'm going to take you to the sitting room today so you can keep yourself busy instead of rotting in our lord's bed” 

“The sitting room?” You asked

Galina nodded before she began digging in the bag separating your hair with a steel comb before she slid different clips into your still damp hair.

“It's… been under renovations since our lord wants to expand the estate even more than it already is” She paused grabbing a gold-speckled hairpin with purple amethyst hanging off the tip of the pin.

“But today it should be appropriate for you to roam, feed some koi fish, and have some pastries”.

Continuing to pull your hair up into an intricate bun winding the hair up in what you felt was a twist or braid into your thickened hair. It certainly felt new since you'd only worn your hair down or tied it back with ribbons if you felt it was necessary, or even just cut it during the warm season.

Especially now. 

You were thinking once you returned to your accommodations you could maybe see about shortening your hair. 

“Galina”

A hum of acknowledgment was heard from your left side where she was grabbing more hair ribbons it seemed.

“When will I be able to return home?” 

You didn't hear another sound from her, assuming she was just still busying herself with the task from before.

Only she didn't answer you; only beginning to tie the back of your hair up before sticking the hairpin in the back of your hair, with her sharper nail she cut the few ties holding the pieces of hair causing your hair to fall as it normally did.

Glancing in the mirror you saw what the final product looked like; your hair was now in loose waves while the back of your hair was tied into two intricate buns being skewered by the hairpins securing them to the top of your head.

“Do you like them, Lián?” Galina asked, grabbing the small mirror from beside her.

“Of course, I look so different”

“In a good way of course,” you corrected yourself as you turned to the side slightly.

Seemingly satisfied Galina rose from her spot going out to the wardrobe outside of the room.

You only kept staring at your reflection. 

It looked off.

Your reflection.

Leaning closer you were focusing on your face.

A small red blemish formed on your cheek.

Narrowing your eyes you picked at the small little bump forming. 

Red and enormous on your left cheek.

However when you looked down at your chin.

A small patch of those hideous bumps was there.

You gasped. Only realize when you heard Galina abruptly come back into the room.

“Lián?” 

Now you were joined in the reflected mirror with Galina looking curiously at your reflection.

“You see them too right?” You pointed to your cheek first.

“I don't know where it came from, '' you shakily exclaimed.

“Hmm, it seems like it's a pimple my lady” Galina then grabbed your hand placing it away from your face.

“It can't be? At my age It's probably a mole or something bad” your eyes still staring at the offensive bump on your face.

Galina only laughed before she patted your robed shoulder.

“My lady you know pimples can occur at any age; I remember when I had a breakout when I had my twins” she shrugged “I wouldn't think too much about it; If you are worried though I can begin a skincare routine for you to keep them away permanently” 

You only stayed eyeing yourself in the mirror.

“It's most likely from all that sleeping you're doing” Galina scolded, 

you groaned loudly, still concentrating on your chin with silent perplexment.

“I'll maybe add some makeup if that's okay with you my lady if the pimples are bothering you” once again patting you on the shoulder before she got up from her spot beside you.

“But I'll have to do that after we decide what to dress you in,” She said as she returned to resume digging through the long wardrobe once more.

Her words beyond that practically fell on deaf ears as you glanced back at the tub.

The entrance to roam the large estate that was Pantalone's home was now gone.

Another dead end and more hope lost.

-

The sitting area was just as unique in its own right.

It wasn't really inside the cave as the majority of the house was built into but instead, just an outside walkway practically hanging off the ledge of the Mt Aocang range below.

A misting waterfall flowed underneath where you were sitting; next to the small parquet woven table was the private doorway next to the small koi pond built into the one part of the wide room that wasn't on the ledge. 

Bamboo and ornate wooden gates divided the area you sat at from the entrance where Fedor was standing idly in front.

Galina somewhere off inside bringing the treats from earlier she promised.

Now this is when you'd slink off and find another way to roam freely around without either guard.

But a feeling told you not to.

It was strange as you'd never let a simple bad feeling stop you before.

It just felt completely unsafe to roam.

You decided to instead look down the side of the tall railing beside you.

The gentle current flowed down the edge in a freefall to wherever it was going.

It calmed your mind watching the few small fish and some leaves fall in a vertical drop.

The sound was also relaxing as you heard the water rushing.

Thankfully you were in a short layered summer dress that allowed you to be able to squat and look down to your heart's desire.

The silky lilac and white material stretched while you looked down towards the water.

Looking at a lone mossy rock you saw something shimmery hit said rock.

Dismissing it as just a lone reflection from the sun hitting the water you only kept looking down at the stream.

But every time you would focus on the horizon or another spot of the water the glint would shine.

Like it was a piece of metal…

Looking back behind you only Fedor was visible still standing along the wall looking towards the entrance of the sitting room most likely keeping a lookout for Galina to return.

You sat on top of the railing; thankfully it seemed the water wasn't deeper than your ankles. Shifting your weight you made a small splash into the rushing stream.

Treading the water to the rock you thought the object was settled against the rock would be visible as you stood over it but instead, the small currents distorted the water.

The small teardrop item was caught underneath the rock.

you dunked your hand to grab a hold of the metal item.

The shock of recognition when you realized what you were looking at.

Something that was supposed to be hidden under your accommodation's bedroom floor.

Grabbing the small stone the flowing cryo energy shooting straight up into your palm was the answer you needed.

The Liyue crest on the back of the vision plate was something you didn't realize you missed.

Channeling your cryo powers into your hands you let a small sheet of ice form over the fast-running stream halting it temporarily.

It was yours.

But the mystery of how it got here was pushed to the back of your mind now.

You needed to hide your vision.

The shawl you wore to hide your back was probably burnt in an incinerator somewhere leaving attaching it to the back of your dress out of the question.

Looking back into the water you only saw your befuddled expression looking back at you in the water's reflection.

your face looked more youthful with the help of the rigorous regime Galina did to your face before she applied small amounts of powder to the pimples you had suddenly accumulated.

At least you could say that your hair made up for the blemishes on your skin.

Swaying in the gentle breeze coming from inside the cavern back and forth.

your hair…

You touched your buns on the top of your head.

Of course…

The pins keeping your hair up could conceal your vision if you redid your hair right.

Quickly undoing the work Galina had done to the two puffy buns on your hair you grabbed your vision in one hand before tying the small gem to the back of your hair wrapping your hair around the sticks to create a Rolled bun behind the top of your hair.

After you secure your hair checking to feel if it has been completely concealed by your hair you look back into the reflection.

Now instead of the buns were replaced by a few stray hairs framing your face as the rolled-up bun now sat on top of your head the hairpins sticking out the small amethyst gems swaying back and forth in the wind along with your hair.

feeling a sense of reassurance you decided to observe the stream more closely.

The stream seemed to go further deeper underneath the home, seeming like there was a bigger source of water somewhere.

Glancing back up towards the balcony above you thankfully seemed no one had noticed your abrupt departure.

looking back towards the opening where the water was rushing.

Your vision must be a sign there was more to be explored here.

So what's the worst that could happen?

Stepping closer to the opening you sized up the entrance.

It seemed big enough to slip in for your size.

But the real mystery was if you'd get lost forever inside the mountains of Aocang or you'd end up deeper into the home. 

Sighing you knew your answer; looking down at your dress and hair you only hoped they wouldn't ruin your spontaneous swim.

Taking a deep breath you treaded the water breaking under the surface.

Surprised as you swam further down the modest current at the different rock formations below and around you as you twirled and occasionally spun to maneuver around the few rocks blocking the wide mouth.

Your lungs were burning as you began to feel the water pull you forward. The water's depth rose giving you a sign you were soon to hit either an air pocket or an underwater lake.

You passed a lone stalactite when suddenly the current picked up. 

Unable to paddle against it you were swiftly carried upwards. Closing your eyes you brace for the rough treatment of colliding and scrapping against the rough rocky texture of the walls around you as you ride the current.

Being spat out by the current finally, you opened your eyes and inhaled the air you missed hungrily.

you were underground. 

in a large lit-up cavern.

Lamps that seemed to also line the hallways of Pantalone's home were hung by the walls near the shore.

Those bars from the other secret room were there. Rusted from erosion it seemed they were no longer being used.

Swimming through the crystal blue water towards the rocky shoal you picked yourself up flopping out of the water practically.

It seemed wherever you were it was completely vacant.

Only one barred area next to the most eye-catching feature is a giant red door; most likely from the erosion just like the jail bars beside it.

Other than that it was exactly like a regular cavern in the liyue mountains you'd seen numerous times.

Not even bothering to dry yourself you approached the first broken barred area. 

Nothing but rocks and chains remained.

Walking to the door you reach to pull the dark metal rings to open said door.

your eyes only widen, the illuminated staircase was just like the familiar stairs you'd taken downstairs during your stay.

But to see one of your fellow shadows in front of you was nothing you ever thought you'd find down here.

His blue and white layered shirt was now tattered, and the mask around his lower face was still intact covering him.

The exposed flesh on his body was cut into ribbons of Open wounds, a few wounds were bleeding while the others were only barely healing on his legs and arms.

He mirrored your expression; the look of panic but familiarity his eyes expressed to you.

For a moment you both stared at each other.

“Lua?” You whispered.

“(Name)” he responded in his daze.

Shaking his head he quickly rushed down the rest of the stairs grabbing you by your wet arm.

Wordlessly you let him pull you down the stairs before closing the door; you both began to rush towards what you first assumed was nothing but a pile of large stones, the closer he ran you saw a small dilapidated passage identical to the one you saw under the bathroom.

"Im glad to have ran into you; those fatui bastards are insane" He panted

"I lost the others and one other operative; it's just you and me now" Lua grunted

Your feet soon grew tired as you ran further and further into the now ever-dark passage. Signaling to stop you both gradually came to a halt in the passage as you caught your breath.

“Did you get captured during your Act?” Lua huffed from beside you.

“It's not important; but we gotta get you to Yelan”

You couldn't see Lua's face but from the silence, you could tell he was pensive.

After another minute passed you only grasped his hand as you both continued your steady sprint out of the darkness of the passage.

Occasionally dodging a long few pebbles or so the relief as you saw the passage brightening up by natural light. 

Lua reached the threshold of the mouth of the cave first.

Seeing his face bleed into relief realizing he was saved.

a  sharp sound cut through the air from above you both

And

Lua only turned back to you about to utter something, but the words fell into mush as he spat a clot of blood from under his mask.

The red bloom forming on his neck..

his body only rolled almost taking you with him down the side of the mountain ledge.

A trail of scarlet blood was now staining the umber soil below the exposed rock and soil.

Feeling his once warm hands slip from your grasp as he fell.

You would have screamed as you landed roughly on your backside. Sitting straight up while you absorbed what had just happened.

mouth agaped as you felt yourself collapse in the kicked up dust.

“Liàn?” 

The crunch of rocks was heard coming from your left.

You didn't turn your head only staring shellshocked at the distant cliff ledge in front of you.

“Darling your all wet” 

You felt his frigid hands on your waist feeling him pull you towards him. You didn’t bother to look up knowing the guilty look on your face had all Pantalone needed to know

“I guess I can call off the search for you” his hands began to run through your still-damp strands of hair.

Being guided by your waist towards the rocky stairs leading up.

His other hand began to lace around your trembling ones as you walked beside him up the ledge.

Pantalone's grip was firm around your hand as he walked beside you up the rocky terrain his eyes never leaving your form as you both made it to the top of the cliff.

You didn't realize you'd never seen the true entrance of his estate.

Like a pillar bursting through the calm forest surrounding the small grassy forest that sat tall on top was the heavily guarded entrance inside two tall oriental gated doors.

The sense of awe was immediately replaced with panic when you saw the frustrated Galina yelling at Fedor next to the now wide-open gate.

“I have returned with my lotus unharmed ” Pantalone called out from behind you to Galina and Fedor, their attention now shifting to you both standing together.

“Lián!” Galina huffed as she marched up to you.

“You are in a lot of trouble! I only saw your shoes next to the table and thought the worst had happened” She then grabbed your half-damp smooth lilac dress in her hands.

“And you soiled the dress I picked for your reunion with our lord” Galina only began to try to dry the ends of your dress in a hurry.

“No need to worry Galina; we'll both be setting off once I’ve settled down and slept off the rough ride” he chuckled pulling you closer to him before he kissed the top of your head.

You only nodded as you let him practically snatch you away towards the door.

Trying your best not to look down the cliffside beside you both, you didn't want to confirm your last subordinate's untimely demise.

It was a horrible reminder of what is going to happen to you once Pantalone grows weary of you.

you were the last Subordinate left if what Lua said was true.

Silently you and Pantalone walked beside you leading you through the foyer of the home heavy with the previous thought in your head.

Your vision washed up in the same stream underground that seemed to be an extension of Pantalone's mansion.

And it was where you found Lua, the last confirmed shadow to have gone missing.

You glanced back at Pantalone's amethyst eyes; his smile would be infectious to you but it was clear now what he was thinking.

He was scheming something dark.

After a moment you both reached the familiar hallway to the staircase from the maze that was the bottom floor.

both of you stepping up onto the steps was all that was echoing, your foot being the first one to reach the threshold as you entered the familiar room; the intricate door shutting behind you reminded you that Pantalone was still here in the room.

Alone.

you nervously gulped before you turned to see him; passion in his eyes like the last night you spent together.

“My beautiful bloom are you in the mood to… indulge me?” He crept closer to you as he let his heavy wool fatui coat fall to the ground.

"you dont have to of course-" his hungry hands immediately finding your body; one now caressing the side of your face. You paused for a moment; he only reached for the back strip of fabric holding your damp dress onto your body.

Looking up to his expectant gaze you sighed through pouted lips.

“If you promise not to leave me sleeping by myself again” you reached for the back of your dress untying the ribbon of cloth in the back letting the lilac dress fall to the ground. 

"I want you to show me you mean what you say"

It was all Pantalone needed to hear and see in the moment; his Lotus

Note: oh man our trip to crazytown is coming soon— pantalone was NOT kidding about taking her back.

[lordbloodravenn]

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON, SEASON 2 EPISODE ONE: A SON FOR A SON. (‘Rewrite’)

I am taking it upon myself to ‘rewrite’ or alter the episodes so far. I won't stray so far from the original that it becomes an entire fanfiction, as I don't have the time to devote to such an endeavour. However, certain scenes in this adaptation by Condal have not sat right with me. This is all my personal opinion. I'm open to debate, but I'm not here to start any arguments.

Without further ado, let us begin:

Similarly to the original episode, we will start at the Wall, where Cregan explains the North’s duty. Although I would love to explore Jacaerys’ time in Winterfell, sticking to the show's timeline and pacing makes this infeasible. Therefore, this scene will play out mostly the same, with an added dialogue piece. Jacaerys reminds Cregan that House Stark swore an oath but, understanding his foremost duty is to the North, he proposes a marriage between Cregan’s future children and Jacaerys’ future heir. This ensures that the North's duties and agenda can one day be wholly understood by the Iron Throne. Cregan then pledges his Greybeards and agrees to support the Blacks in whatever way he can once he has seen to the harvest and ensured the Wall is as secure as possible. The scene ends with the arrival of the ravens.

Daemon’s spiralling was entertaining to watch, as was his insistence they go and kill Vhagar. I shan’t be changing this scene. It solidifies the threat Vhagar poses, showing that even Daemon, a rogue and impulsive man, will not face her alone.

The next scene with Corlys at the docks on Driftmark remains largely unchanged. However, I found the knife scene tacky; it was unclear when he had the gift forged for Lucerys. Was it during the war while grieving his son or when he was wounded? The show writers wanted us to mourn for Lucerys, but it was nonsensical considering Corlys’ activities over the past few years.

In King’s Landing, we begin with Aegon searching for Jaehaerys in Helaena’s chambers. Their exchange is similar, with Helaena expressing her fear regarding the rats.

Here is where my first decisive change occurs. Rather than skipping to the Alicent and Criston scene, we move to the library where Aegon is collecting his son. Aegon expresses to little Jaehaerys, who is fixated on his tutor and hesitant to leave with Aegon, that he is his heir. There’s a deep, unspoken worry in Aegon's eyes. He does not want Jaehaerys to feel unwanted, unworthy, and underprepared as he does. He starts by somewhat expressing this, trying to tell the boy it’s his duty, but he struggles with the concept himself. He then tells Jaehaerys that he wants him there, that a father relies on his son and heir, and that it shall be good fun; it’s a more playful encounter than the sombre beginning with Aegon thinking about Viserys initially.

Finally, we are in the Small Council scene, only the Lord Commander and Queen are missing. Each arrives late, and Otto eyes them suspiciously. The two (Criston and Alicent) briefly glare at each other guiltily, hinting at an encounter rather than showing it. We’re building to the idea that something is going on between them. The council scene plays out mostly the same. Aegon is trying desperately to seem kingly while also falling into neglectful habits, playing with Jaehaerys. I position Jaehaerys to start on his father’s knee, playing with Aegon’s council ball. He then wanders to our Lannister, and that scene plays out the same. (I’m giving us more time with Jaehaerys and more interaction between the family. I believe B&C lacked impact due to this.)

Following the meeting, we will see the Alicent and Larys encounter play out. He implies Alicent was indisposed (with Criston earlier), but we still have no confirmation. Rather than bathing, we see Alicent sit down to write another letter to Dragonstone. She sends her servants away, feeling they are watching her on Larys’ behalf. She scrunches up the letter in the end, and her scene ends with her staring at her bed, with something guilty in her eyes.

The next scene plays out the same; Lucerys' clothing and Arrax’s wing are found. This scene was fine.

The petitions scene was enjoyable and does not require change, nor does the exchange with Lord Larys and Aegon. Similarly, Alicent’s exchange with Otto need not be changed; it was politically centred and in touch with the politically rooted conversations that I believe made AGOT so enjoyable. I don’t believe the ‘white worm’s’ discovery aboard the ship or the black queen’s return to Dragonstone would benefit from a rewrite. Nor would the ‘I want Aemond Targaryen’ line or Jacaerys’ emotional scene.

The funeral scene is our next change. Alicent lights her candles, and soon after she lights her candle for Lucerys, we hear footsteps behind her. It is Criston, her sworn protector. He kneels beside her and bids her leave to seek forgiveness from the Gods. She suggests they should both atone, and then the scene ends.

Daemon gets his information in the same manner, promising Mysaria’s release.

Rather than beginning with Daemon rowing into King’s Landing, we are back with Aegon and Helaena. He bids his sister to have Jaehaerys’s nursemaid bring him to the Small Council again. He will not be deterred by the antics from the previous session. Helaena nods. Aegon then tells her that he has ordered additional rat catchers to scour the castle for the supposed rats she fears. He bids his children, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, goodnight (I would love to write Maelor back in, but then I’m stepping into entire rewrite territory.) We see Aegon leave, and then we see Daemon row into King’s Landing and employ Blood and Cheese. They discuss that their target is Aemond.

The next scene shows Ser Criston in his chambers, pacing the floor. He’s staring at his white cloak laid across his bed. He then kneels before it and begins flagellating himself. He begs the Mother’s forgiveness, the Father’s forgiveness, and the Maid’s. We see he feels deeply guilty for something.

We move to Alicent’s chambers with Helaena entering them with the children, as is their custom. She looks at the door only for a brief moment, where Criston is absent. Alicent begins reading to the children. Helaena is quite nervous and questions Ser Criston’s absence from her door. Alicent informs her that Ser Criston shall be along shortly, as the Lord Commander has many duties to attend to.

Blood and Cheese finally get their scene. They walk through the tunnels with the dog. They come across the king and make it to the passageways. They do not make it to Aemond’s room. Voices can be heard through the walls. Unclear and muffled voices, but one says a name: Aemond. That is enough to open this passage. Cheese points and whispers, "This is the one."

Criston is now in Aemond’s chambers. The two are plotting when Otto enters. We ensure Otto says Aemond’s name to throw off the viewers.

Back in Alicent’s chambers with Helaena, they’re still reading. Then the passage opens (They have entered the wrong chamber but cannot take it back). Blood and Cheese play out with Alicent being grabbed, Helaena too. Alicent is bound and gagged first. The show's unusual choice to make Jaehaera and Jaehaerys indistinguishable plays out the same. Helaena offers her necklace, then her life. Alicent’s muffled cries earn her a kick from Blood. Helaena is still pleading; Alicent is still crying. "Choose, or they both die," Blood declares. "A son for a son, and the prince will have his debt paid one way or another." Helaena finally points. She falls to the floor as Cheese releases her. Then comes the slicing. As the head is separated, Helaena crawls to her daughter and grabs her, running from the room. She runs into Criston Cole, who is finally about to assume his post. "They killed him, they killed my boy," she says, broken but with glassy and unsure eyes. She collapses and cries, still cradling her daughter. The episode is done.

This isn’t perfect. I tried to keep it similar to the show, with slower pacing. I aimed to maintain a little mystery and build-up, I guess. Should I do the next three episodes or not?

[bullet-prooflove]

Hi 👋🏻 Here is another prompt for Nestor Oceteva ❤️ #18 “So take these words, some good advice” from the ‘Mini Radio Show Prompt List’. Thank you so much.

Nestor wants to marry you; he has for a long time. The problem is you’ve never expressed any interest in it, he isn’t even sure if it’s on your radar. He rises the issue with Marcus when he’s collecting Santi for comic art class one afternoon. The young boy is packing up his sketchbook and pencils in his bedroom whilst Nestor stands in the kitchen with Marcus, the other man in the midst of making a cup of green tea when he broaches it.

“I want to marry Rosa.” He finds himself telling the other man.

Marcus smiles, his gaze fixated on the mug in front of him as he pours the hot water into it.

“And you want my permission?” Marcus asks as he picks up the cardboard tab of the teabag and begins to manipulate the string.

He raises his eyes to meet Nestor’s and the two of them share a smile. Marcus has been a father figure in your life for as long as you could remember, and he’s always been Nestor’s confidant when it comes to matters of the heart. There was a time a few years ago when they’d both sat in this kitchen wondering if they’d ever see you again. The fact he’s here right now, discussing this is a testament to just how far the two of you have come.

“I don’t know if it’s something that she wants.” Nestor says, outlining his problem to Marcus.

“It’s a tough one mijo,” Marcus sighs, taking a sip from his tea. “The truth is I have no idea. There was a time I would have said never but she’s settled over the past couple of years, put down roots. She may be ready for a little more security.”

He gives Nestor a moment to process his words. The other man has always been a grounding presence in your life, he’s given you a stability you’ve been lacking over the years, and he couldn’t ask for a better son in law if you choose to go down that path.

“I think the best course of action would be to sit down and have a conversation with her.” Marcus tells Nestor, “Get a feel for where she is with the whole idea.”

he knows that Marcus is right, that springing a proposal would be a bad idea. You have a habit of bolting when you get overwhelmed, and Nestor hates the thought of putting you in that position.

Every single one of the decisions you’ve made about moving forward have been together and Nestor intends to keep it that way.

Love Nestor? Get added to his tag list!

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[aquaproductions]

~MASTERPOST~

Hello! I'm your local DJ and I wanted to give a proper Introduction of myself~!

Name: Aqua Age: Adult Pronouns: She/Her Fun Fact: My colon was forfeit. No really I don't have it anymore.

Hello Darlings~ I'm a self taught cartoonist of over 12 years. I am also Graphic Designer, Video Editor, and V-Tuber! Right now I've been enjoying being a fan artist at the moment with a sprinkle of my original work!

Please do not repost my art to another platform

My interest

Pokémon (Super into the TCG)

Horror ARG's

Marble Hornets

Moths

Glitch/SMG4

Tamagotchi

Indie Animations

Professor Layton

Thunderbirds (60s)

Dungeons and Dragons (I am a dice goblin)

Vampire the Masquerade

Dragon Ball (Very New)

MLP (Very New)

Collecting Pins/Charms/Prints/Plushies/Stickers

Hyper-Fixations Characters

N (Murder Drones)

SMG3 (SMG4)

Piccolo (Dragon Ball)

Percy (Critical Roll)

Red Hood (DC)

If you want to follow me on other places do do here!

If you participate in Art Fight follow me! I love attacking Moots!

I also recently got a ToyHouse! Learn more about my OC's over there!

I'm on a semi hiatus on Twitch but I'll be returning soon!

I do happily draw NSFW! However its strictly of mine and my closest friends characters and separated from my main accounts!

(I'll be slowly adding/updating more!)

[radiokathryn-if]

Hola amigo (amiga). It’s me again. I’m in class, slaving away my life and with my newfound brain juices, I decided to spend it on something worthwhile like expanding your own brain juices.

The ROs decided to play Monopoly (because that’s where brain power works more effectively). Who loves it, who hates it, how do they play, and who ultimately wins against one another? Also, have a good day (or night depending on when this is.)

Hello friend! Just for you and your slaving brain power, I shall gift you with a little bonus!──long answer! +I just finished cooking(&eating) supper so it has indeed been a good night lmao, I hope you have one too! ++I may have way too much fun trivia about monopoly just rattling around in my head, so I apologise if I start rambling! +++also! I'm acting as if they're all playing together... which would never happen but is still fun to think about!

Which little mascot token thing do they choose/get/fight for/end up with?──in 1972 there was only: the shoe, the hat, the dog, the iron, the car and the boat... so I've added more such as the thimble, the lantern (retired in 1950) and the rocking horse (retired 1950)

NATE──is picky and also very narcissistic, he has to pick first and he always gets the dog (a yorkshire terrier!) because it's "objectively the best one" no one really objects because they don't want to deal with his whining.

EVA──she always gets the lantern. when she's not at the table to claim it first, it's gets set aside for her. unlike with Nate, everyone else lets her have it because she simply asks nicely. Eva just thinks it's pretty─she calls it her good luck charm! (she has a nice winning streak!)

MICA──does not care for their token at all, and is usually the last to gain it, often getting the one no one went for or wanted... which mostly ends up being the iron... Mica thinks it's rad though so they don't mind!

DETECTIVE HAN──doesn't really play board games and is subsequently a bit slow to the battle royale of the token picking... they end up with the shoe because it's only of the only two left and they'd rather not pick the iron...

JOSÉ──they're not going down without a fight! they are pretty competitive, especially when it comes to board or card games─curtesy of their many siblings─and they will bargain for the token of their choosing... which is the the thimble... but they usually lose out to Ji Han, in which they fight Fauve for the boat!

JI HAN──he wins the thimble from José but he only goes for the thimble if the the plane is gone and considering its the one token lost to the void, well...

FAUVE──she watches José and Ji Han fight it out for the thimble with glee and then when José sets their sights on her and the boat its quickly wiped away... she knows when to take her losses and resigns the boat to them after she can feel a ten minute debate forming, leaving her with the car!

JACKSON──used to picking last when playing board games, though most times Cilly just gives him a token she seems fit... he'd end up with the hat (a top hat!) because even though he doesn't particularly care, he's still quicker than Mica or Detective Han to scoop up one of his favourites!

???──they like most of the tokens and are usually the first to pick, in actuality, they're the one who set aside the lantern for Eva and make the dog easy to see for Nate to claim 'first' after which they swoop in and collect the rocking horse! much like Eva, the token is a bit of a good luck charm for them─the only time they've ever gone bankrupt was when they were playing with the boat instead!

actual game play! who loves it, who hates it, who's winner and who's a sore sore loser baby?

Nate says he likes monopoly but he is quick to change his mind as soon as he loses his money... honestly, if he didn't fixate on the money side of things and strategise like i know he can he'd probably give Eva, ??? and Ji Han a run for their money! (sore sore loser, losing loser baby, sore loser baby)

Like most things outside of her personal life, Eva stays winning. She loves strategy games and she's very good at interpersonal tactics (and she doesn't get greedy or blind sided by fake money.) She's on a winning streak... but there are a couple that give her a run for her money! (somehow she always manages to get one or both dark blue's on her first circle of the board...)

The ever unbothered Mica could honestly care less about monopoly──that is to say that they get surprisingly intense around two thirds in! Something about monopoly specifically ignites the competitive fire under them. They're strangely protective of the train stations and the utilities. They always somehow end up going bankrupt though, and sell out to Eva or Ji Han (or ???) depending on who can give them the most appealing sales pitch... Mica just likes hearing what they'll come up with!

Detective Han is a baby at playing board games... that aren't chess or checkers that is. The first time they play they're too caught up in the rules to realise all the spaces are slowly being taken up. The next time they buy every space they land on and were the first to go bankrupt so quickly in a while! They're a bit of a rules lawyer but have since mellowed out to enjoying the game without getting worked up about losing.

José is competitive and they love a classic board game. Playing with their siblings, they're known to be one of the winners more often than not... playing with the other ROs? That's a whole different ball park─a whole different weight category! Especially with brilliant players like Eva, Ji Han and ??? (when they're in the mood to win)! José can admit when they're out of their depth but that doesn't mean they aren't going to go down without a fight. They're the most... involved player, often propositioning places or money with literally anyone if they can see it coming out advantageous for them. (Not many of their propositions are accepted, though some are for the sheer audacity and the entertainment value they bring!)

As opposed to his older sibling, Ji Han is actully quite well versed in the ways of the game... Given that he's only played it while half drunk in university halls at 3 in the morning while they wait out for a 5am lecture... playing it with the rest of the ROs is only a little different. (that and he plays with a clear mind and thus remembers the rules and can get into the manipulation tactics!) He's won almost as many times as Eva has, and it's usually the two of them as the final two! He's a gracious loser, even if he's a bit of a show off winner (that's mainly spurned on by Eva's taunting and the final overcoming of her as an opponent.)

Fauve has a competitive streak in her, but it's mainly for bragging rights. She actively tries hard to beat at the very least José and then sets her sights on Ji Han. (The sexual tension between them when she does is quite, palpable... if the teasing barbs and lingering looks are anything to go by) She has yet to win over Eva though and is hedging her bets on a team up with The Trio as a means to an end. (She loves the bragging rights... is winning bragging rights over Eva in monopoly of all things super important? Yes. She already reigns supreme in Uno, this is the next step in her bragging rights empire!! She's up for the challenge!)

Jackson is an easygoing run of the mill average player. He's used to going easy at these kinds of games since most of his experience playing them is with his daughter and her friends... That being said, Jackson is an excellent banker! He's very strict about the money, especially after they found out that Nate was sneaking money when he would designate himself as banker! He bankrupts quite early, but his heart nor his pride is hurt by it, he takes losing like a winner!

Secret mastermind, ???. They're actively the best at playing the game however, they don't have the competitive flare or heart to actively secure more than third place. However, when ??? is in a competitive mood, or a mischievous mood (or just wanting to impress a certain MC or Eva) then all the cards are down and all the bets are off!

bonus round! common team ups!

Eva and ??? are unstoppable when they're both playing together and playing to win! Not that a team up trio of Ji Han, Fauve and José won't give them a run for their money. Nate refuses to team up with any of them, not like they're dropping everything to offer. Mica is a lone island of overconfidence and chilled cockyness... (MC over their shoulder like an angel(or devil) during a poker game...) In a shocking turn of events, Detective Han and Jackson team up as Rules Lawyer and Banker after they declare bankruptcy and are kind of terrorfying to defy... which leads to people trying to loophole their way through the game and providing many moments of laughter inducing entertainment!

lmao i started this at like 8pm... it's taken me like 8 hours to finish and if that doesn't tell you what my mental states been like then idk what will

[jaw-writes]

I Despise You Darling

I despise everything about you. Your endless void eyes, freakishly long legs, ever smug smile, deceptively soft touch, strangely floral scent. All of it. You attack each of my senses every time you come near me. To think that we were once best friends, I had more faith in you than anyone, whenever I needed advice or a shoulder to cry on, I went to you first. You meant the world to me; it makes me feel sick whenever I remember how the girl I loved was a lie 

You betrayed me, your best friend, in the name of a grotesque experiment where I’m the lab rat. There’s no doubt that you started the fire that continues to burn my life, but I can’t deny that I’ve enjoyed pouring the gasoline. At first, I did my best to avoid becoming obsessed with you, constantly holding myself back knowing it was wrong, but you made it impossible. Your mind is a carefully curated garden brimming with all sorts of life. As each day went by, I wanted to pick another flower from it, feel another blade of grass, and bask in its intrigue. 

I learned so much about you through observation, that I never could as your friend. Last year when I found out that you’d been stalking me, I had no idea why you’d do such a thing, now I understand. If watching me gave you a quarter of the feelings I get from watching you, then I’d almost forgive your actions. Gazing at your life through an analytical lens elicits feelings in me I didn’t know existed. It’s almost impossible to describe the manic rush of joy and power I get. 

Although, I think we enjoy it in different ways based on how we view each other. To you I’m your favorite seed in your garden, you want to watch me grow into your ideal tree. So, you take what you know about how I function, and combine it with your understanding of the world to make a compost for me. As brutal as the water you drown me in and the harsh sun you scorch me with is, it’s all part of your method to make me grow. I am a creation you live to see reach its full potential.  

To me, you’re the opposite, a malicious computer program that I enjoy watching destroy itself. You have never felt an ounce of empathy and have always needed to control any device you encounter. Once you find a target, you infect them with your virus, mining every piece of their data, and adding them to your collection of stolen lives. You successfully did it to me, but unlike the others, you kept going. Focusing on my activity far after you were done stealing from me, constantly coming back to see how I’d adapt to a new trojan horse you threw.  

Soon, I became the only user you engaged with, no other piece of tech mattered unless it was connected to me, and God, did seeing you like that feed my ego. A smile forces its way to my face at your meticulous plans growing in detail and intensity as you can’t focus on anything else. I, a random individual with nothing but a hint of illness to him, is who you put all your resources into. I’m unable to fear you anymore, while I gaze at you practically living for me. In your efforts to crumble and rebuild my life. You’ve made yourself incapable of having your own.  

Both of us have embraced the worst aspects of ourselves through the sick experiments we’ve been running on each other. You may be the greater evil between us, but I’m no longer afraid to admit that I’ve become a devil myself. I mean, I lured you into an abandoned warehouse, called upon one of my allies to help me fight you, and then shot you ceaselessly, making sure it was in areas that would maim, but not kill you. Now why would I do that? To make you paralyzed, of course. I was incredibly particular about where I aimed.  

You’ll be unable to move your limbs for at least four months, which invigorates me. I’ve been watching you and your caretaker. It’s great seeing both your arms and legs in casts. You had already been losing your strength to your fixation on me, but now you’ll be incapable of running away. If you find yourself fearing me right now, know that whatever happens next is your fault. I’m not the Anti-Christ, so I’ll simply enjoy observing your lack of mobility, with no further harm, but prepare yourself because the moment you can walk, I’ll be waiting.  

Unless I’m lying like you always lied to me, and I’ll strike once one of your limbs heal. Maybe I’ll be tracking you even more and will be able to tell if you’re pretending that you haven’t healed so I don’t hurt you sooner. Maybe I won’t even wait for when your body starts recovering, and you’ll wake up to me standing over your bed with my hands on your neck. I know how much you like analyzing and picking out patterns with me, so I’ll make sure you never know what to expect. I could be bluffing, and this is all to scare you off, so I’ll be done with you, you’ll never know. 

Are you starting to regret choosing me for this? Does the thought that you’ve grown a deadly poison plant out of your control kill you? Or are you loving this as much as I am, and you want to rub yourself all over me to get a blistering rash? I think it’s a mix of both for you, but who am I to say, it’s not like I’ve been watching your every move, right? No matter what you feel, just remember, I despise you, darling. 

[unsupervisedsoup]

worked on this one for a bit, and i'm sure not many people will see this but hey, at least my work's out there

Title; Born from the need to be held

Love is a profound and genuine, one-sided or mutual emotion that the modernised society has destroyed and infatuated over until its complete extinction. Love within fiction, and by extension the unconscious and human desire, that misleads the gaze to wanting to believe its gainable simplicity. It is replaced by the over-fixation from loneliness as an ideal to be reached by everyone, serving only to drive love father away. Only adding to the detachment between connections. And yet from the very birth of a person, warmth and love from their guardian are needed, even for the scientific definition of not being able to individually regulate their own temperature. However, this need to be held is not condensed to this singular rationale. It could have been much later, in the sudden absence of this human contact that slowly ceases to alienation with the extending time of existence. In seeking it out again is to return to the state of being born with the need to be held.

From it are the misinterpretations that the slightest inkling to interest is nothing but romance. This leads to the oversimplification and consequential surface level of understanding. It leaves little room to explore any other definition of it despite the eight categories of love written by the Greeks. All of which are arranged the farthest in favour of Eros. As it appeals to the longing gaze with its sporadic though doting temperament of physical desire, with its almost immediate gratification. Though it does not fail to accentuate its' sweet then bitter' fleeting moments as described in Anne Carson's essay: "To be running breathlessly, but not yet arrived." A suspension to chase well after its end, stumbling and desperate for another high like an unsatiated hunger enough to drive one mad. Accentuated by Sappho's 31, highlighting the irrationality justified by a false sense of rationale. Its captivating yet fleeting beauty causes the huge sway of emotion like a madly oscillating pendulum that is unable to settle. Further proving the existence of poems and words surrounding the romantic aspect of love to barely suffice, never completely satiating the aggravated need for a semblance of this mutuality between another. 

The same can be said with the romanticisation of young love's naïve clarity. Eros, likely from where the most common iteration of a romantic relationship—the language of physical affection—was publicly yet quietly conceived. This idealised state of affection lessens the sincerity, now perceived and narrowed to the claimable title, as if it is some form of collectible item or class not many come by. While the want for the real connection leads to shallow and assumptious relationships from ambiguous interactions. Generalised to the state of infatuation first felt when meeting a stranger, who's unfinished sentences may leave the need to fill it ceaselessly with words before they've ever spoken. This is set by the modernised and prevalent double standard seen in gender and consequently sexuality. A reaction to prove against the out-dated conservative beliefs, only managing to create another level of extremism: promiscuity. Its celebration glamorised in media, synthetically framed in a sought-after manner. Consequently, resulting to the infantilism and generalisation of complexities to aesthetics. A form of "mental" fashion to casually wear around. Articles of clothing that can be switched out for the newest and shiniest belief. Societal refusal to the open expression of vulnerability without having it hidden within the packaging of media, leads to exclusion and further driven to categorisation. Even at the lack of love's wanted warmth, the disappearance of authenticity remains. Due to the societal beliefs that it can be easily harnessed as an object that man has come to understand; to define despite its fluidity. A dance between the constant isolation experienced in the uniqueness of oneself, along with the desperation to find another with this impossible similarity causing the settling with a synthetic personality.

Love's categorisation causes its loss of meaning, ultimately leading to its death. The gaze of people tears it at the seams, pulling it apart for a piece to keep for themselves. No longer adding to the beautiful intricacy of human relationships and instead providing a shortcut to satisfying the quick needs in an effort to prolong the soft hold of a hand. The infatuation for it extends beyond the words uttered by actors and poets alike, stemming from within the society itself. This yearning leads to a cycle of subversion toward any other form of fondness. It is the idea of love that covers the eyes and whispers; it dares to let longing fill the spaces to indulge within dreams. It is easy to entangle in, though difficult to look away from its captivation, offering warmth and understanding despite how quickly love can disappear. It allows settling without recognising the misunderstanding that love comes in obvious forms to ease the loneliness and convoluted nature of people. Despite its destructive nature, it is seen as a better alternative to loneliness. Which is comparable to the slipping of shadows in the presence of light. The fear of isolation lingers uncomfortably by the doorway; the gaze's peripheral never truly acknowledges that corner. 

At times, it is closer to this fairy tale, curated by the ideals and hopes of others; unattainable in the sense that it avoids those who look for it at every turn. Due to the apparent display of love, it undermines complexity and instead relies on idealisation. Piecing together a perfect fabrication of love influenced by the Eros of society to wrap around and act as a substitute for what cannot be so easily gained as fast as it is thought of. This fragility outside of the loosely sewn train of thoughts is divulged at the slightest difference in this preconceived notion of love. Simultaneously held back and prompted to pursue it out of fear, along with the wish to seek it out without hurting and not being hurt. It stands overhead in its ephemeral figure, enchanting enough to have nearly every gaze believe its insincerity. A simple wish to love in the dark in order to be completely vulnerable. Blind and alone without being truly alone. If anything, it is only a brief reprieve, a comfort, a latibule, for the impossibility of sincerity within modernity. It is done out of fear of displaying the acrimonious, disguising the unpleasant idea of it all with infatuation.

[nastrond-skelly]

Just finished reading the silence and the storm (at least up to the last released chapter) by @ghostinthegallery and I'm here to gush over how much I'm in love with this amazing piece of fanfic.

Massive spoilers ahead

You can either buy tdk and tiatd or do as i did and pirate them if you're as poor as i am.

Link to the piece here if you're interested in it, and i do recommend it if you're a necron enjoyer and are dissatisfied with how GW is handling the story threads they left to rot to pursue their craving for adding more books to the Imerium's catalogue.

So, how do i start? Well, before reading this i had no interest in many of the characters that appear in it: i thought of imotekh as just another character with not much outside of his martial prowess, having never read severed i did like what i knew about zandrekh and obryon but i didn't care much for either of them, anrakyr was just a unit in the necron codexes i loved for it's rules in game but not much else, and Szarekh was barely more than an afterthought in my love for the faction. But now i cannot make any of these people stop living in my head rent free.

I was already in love with the two bickering gay nerds, trazyn and orikan were already some of my favorite characters in fiction, their rightful place as kings of my fixation only shared by the likeness of Ged, Ghost Bird, Lake and Ulrich Von Bech. But, dead gods be damned, this piece of fiction made my love for them only grow. The author did not only write them perfectly in character with how they had been written beforhand, but they enhanced their interactions, their relationship and it's evolution after serenade, writing the evolution of their rivalry in such an organic and logical way. The loving hatred they feel for each other having only growing after their escapades with the arcavios mysterios, then even more as Szeras tries to take trazyn's favorite enemy from him. The pain of seeing Orikan trying to save Trazyn from the unavoidable fury of his Phareon, Trazyn trying to convince orikan to be by his side as he preoares to convince the Nobility of his damned race to think for once. The way ghost in the gallery writes how these characters crave each other, masking their desire to see their "rival" in layers of denial that would make Zandrekh look accepting of the horror of biotransference. My heart stopped when the two departed, knowing now what the real reason for trazyn's desire to "lock" orikan in his gallery is. Orikan, stubborn bitch, desperate for trazyn's presence, even offering him the security and protection of the stormlord.

Speaking of the stormlord, i adore the way he was written. He is no mindless warmonger, he owns his titles, the fear he strikes is well deserved . Imotekh has owned more and more respect from me as the story continued, his mind is sharp and his pride is earned. I thought of him as a mere soldier, much like the nobles of his race would, but he transcends his rank, he is the storm, and every title he has collected is his. This story has made me love this man beyond what i could have ever imagined. The way he speaks commands respect, the way he acts commands fear. I loved every chapter he appeared in, the more i read of him the more i agree with phillas (i Don't remember how to write her name 💀), he might actually be a better silent king than szarekh, but at the same time, he doesn't yet understand the fear his opponent feels towards the great devourer, and i hope he does start to understand as he visit the barren planet. His visions are also quite interesting, and they explain much of his character. He was always intelligent, and biotransference only made his mind able to plan with even better calculations.

Obryon and zandrekh. I don't think i have to say much, mostly because I think they aren't describable in few words. Obryon's denial, and then his acceptance of his "hunger" made me almost tear up. I don't really understand romance in the real world, i don't really understand attraction outside of the respect i can have for someone, i understand hotness and beauty, but strictly in an aesthetic sense, I don't actually feel attracted to them much. But god, I love seeing robot romance. I don't know why, but i feel more akin to it than I feel towards any work of fiction describing human love. So i got way more invested in the mad nemesor and his loyal guard than i would have ever thought, Zandrekh's desperation as he throws himself in the frontlines, in an almost suicidal act of desperation, hoping for his "old friend" to come, Obryon's desperate need to return to his lord, and then, their reunion. Beforehand i thought of Zandrekh as just "funny mad guy", but dead gods is he so much more, the way he plans the destruction of the weapon defending the mephrit city... Scarabs, gods, scarabs. I don't think i have to add much, the old bastard won my heart, his mind is such a mystery, yet one that can be understood without needing to resolve it, and i love how he is described, his madness being less of a weakness than anyone would have thought. I need to read severed and I can't wait to see how he resolves the occupation of his planet.

So, shall i talk about Szarekh? Yes i should. Am i talking like an ogdobekh because of reasons to myself mysterious? Yes i am. Should i stop? Probably. Anyway, Szarekh is a weird one of me, because i understand him, but i don't think i would support him was i a lord casting her vote at the mot. For two reasons:

1) he is letting his dog loose, giving Szeras this much freedom to act crosses so many lines, and in his desperation Szarekh is trusting the monster with too much power. As much as his reasons for it are just and his heart is in the right place when it comes to what he wants for the necron race, he is risking hurting them once again. And Imotekh makes a good point about him, he does tend to trust in things he does not understand. The c'tans, the tyranids, Szeras.

2) he needs a fucking break, god, he has balls of ceramite for how he resisted the norn queens for so long, and what he saw would have destroyed the mind of any other necron, but god he needs a fucking break. I want to hug him and give him a warm blanked and some hot chocolate, man, heavens know he needs it.

I just now realize i am giving my opinion on these characters as if i was involved myself with the events, and i think this is a testament to how engaging this fic is.

Talking about loose dogs, Szeras, you fucking bastard, i will kill you if you dare to touch my precious babies again and i hope he gets his head shoved in a pile of ork shit. He is so well written, terrifying in every scene he appears in. I said this before and i will say it again, i fucking love this character archetype. I love to hate him and i want to see him again, possibly being dunked on by literally anyone, and I'm so happy trazyn was able to make his necrodermis shiver in rage at the trial.

Speaking of trials. My beloved, the executioner herself, is the literal manifestation of badassery and nobody can make me put those words back in my mouth. I want a 4 meters tall statue of her in my room and i love how the work makes her feel like both a threat and the best ally anyone can have. Every interaction with her and any other character is pure gold and I really want to see more of her.

Anrakyr, the traveler, my dear backstabbing powerhouse of a man, he's such an interesting character, and a melancholic one at that. He is both honourable and betraying, and i fully agree with the three oraerorians, he is interesting as hell. I honestly don't have much to say about him, i love his character and I can't wait to see him and oltyx interact. I will eagerly wait for his story to continue, until then, I'll be gushing over him saving obryon for the rest of time.

And now, a lightning round because my thumbs are getting sore:

- the tyranids are written so fucking well, they are terrifying and intriguing at the same time, i don't really understand how they're able to communicate with the crons but the way they speak is in it's own way kind of terrrifying.

- necrons have sex the exact way i wish humans did, and i am envious of them. Thank you ghost for writing one of the first scenes of this kind able to make me invested in it instead of just skipping entire paragraphs.

- the whole scene with trazyn and orikan fighting szeras in the craftworld kept me on edge the whole time and i will take inspiration from it for my own projects.

I didn't talk much about the plot because i want to see how it concludes before Saying anything, but good gods i am so invested in this whole mot situation, I can't wait to see what all our beloved bois, girls and Peeps will do.

Also, i kind of want to see borrakka appear, the red marshal would be a fun addition to the roster of characters in this story, but maybe it would be a bit excessive, i dunno, i am eager to see what happens next.

Also, the melted face dude (i suck at remembering names) is a bitch and i want him dead, wait, no, i want him in szeras' lab, yeha, that's the right punishment for that bastard. God, this story made me hate him so much and i love this feeling.

Anyway, I'm loving this thing and i can't wait for the next chapter.

This is canon for me and i will fight anyone who says it is not.

I just hope it doesn't end with the status quo restored, because so many 40k stories don't change the setting much and this story is shaking the foundation of the infinite empire so much i crave to know where it will lead to.

In any case, sorry for the rambling, and i probably forgot about something, but I'm so happy i read this and I'm making an AO3 account just so i can be notified when the next chapter is released.

An amazing read for any 40k fan

I want to draw so many scenes from this fic but I can't pick one

Ok I'll stop writing

C ya

[imagines-ahs]

Chapter Thirty-One: Fog.

Summary: Wilhemina Venable felt it was finally time to leave Kineros Robotics and get a job with people who weren’t such morons like Jeff and Mutt. What she didn’t expect, however, was for her new boss to be so damn insufferable. She didn’t expect to fall in love with her, either.

Tag List: @mayfair-fleur @mistysswampmud @paulsonsratched @msvenablx @notmeellaannyy @rwoolfe @golddustdykes​ @lovingsarah @slut-for-sarah @geinobinarie​ (message me to be added if interested!)

Right? It was… and did Venable feel comfortable around Emma? She did, more than she had felt around many people in a long time. But… was it enough? I wish I could feel like I do with Billie Dean. But Billie was only her friend… that’s why it felt so right. “You’re right…” But then again, when had she ever felt comfortable enough to not even brush her hair nor look at herself in the mirror while being with someone else? And she wasn’t even scared of being judged… being judged was always there. But not when it came to Billie Dean, it seemed. I don’t think I’d ever allow Emma to see me like that.

I should stop. The thought crossed Billie Dean’s mind once again. She decided to listen to it. “Just know I’m here if you ever need to talk about it.”

Wilhemina nodded. Something had shifted deep inside.

Billie Dean offered her a comforting smile and reached for the chocolate syrup; she poured a good amount of it all over her pancakes before taking another bite. A hum left her lips. “This is really good,” she commented.

Venable nodded as she ate, mind struggling to stay present. Why don’t I feel as comfortable with Emma? She couldn’t shake that question off of her mind. “I’m glad you like it.” She focused on Billie Dean again. “What time do you have to be on set today?”

“Only at six.” Billie took another bite. “We should wrap it up today, which means we’ll film until tomorrow morning.”

“Gosh, you should rest.” Wilhemina reached for her glass.

“Yeah,” Billie Dean nodded. “I should go home.” She didn’t want to impose her presence on Venable, after all; surely Wilhemina had better things to do.

Brown eyes fell down to her plate as Venable took a sip of her juice. “You can stay here, if you’d like… I can cook us lunch, and then you can take a nap in my bedroom…” Slowly, she looked back up at Billie. “If you’d like,” she repeated. I don’t like asking for things. It made Venable feel vulnerable, for what if Billie denied? It was a decision she couldn’t be in control of.

Something in the way Wilhemina made that offer caused Billie Dean to squeeze the fork in her hand; she was as calm and collected as always, but there was a hint of something there. Something longed for. And once again, Billie found herself asking how could she deny such a thing? “I don’t want to bother…”

“You won’t.” Perhaps Venable had answered too fast. She shifted on her seat. “You won’t. I’ll be home all day anyways. Truly.”

With a small smile, Billie Dean nodded. “Alright, then. But I’ll help with lunch.” She took another bite. “We can even order something. I’ll pay.”

“Absolutely not,” Wilhemina chuckled. “We’ll share.” She took a forkful.

“You’re already sharing your house.”

“That doesn’t count.” But not many people were invited over to Venable’s house… and even fewer were actually welcomed enough to sleep there. In fact, no one had ever been in her house in the past years. Would I be comfortable with Emma spending that much time here? The answer was one Wilhemina didn’t enjoy. Playfully, Billie Dean rolled her eyes. And funny enough, Venable felt like laughing instead of feeling disrespected. Is this intimacy? She didn’t know, but she could only assume so.

Honey eyes fixated on dark ones, and Wilhemina looked so damn lovely Billie wondered how someone like her could even be real, with her hair up and face so fresh from the morning, mouth full of pancakes. “Sharing it is, then,” she said after a moment, voice as soft as velvet.

“Thank you.”

Billie Dean nodded. Their plates had gotten empty by now, and so Billie got up to grab the dishes. “I’ll wash them.”

“There’s a dishwasher, you just have to fill it.” Reaching for her cane, Wilhemina got up as well.

“Are you sure?” Billie now collected all the used silverware and plates.

“Positive. It’s more economic to only run it when it’s full, anyways.” There were no pancakes left, so Wilhemina grabbed the syrup to take it back to the kitchen. Billie Dean nodded with a hum, and so they got to the kitchen and put everything away. Once they were done, Venable reached for the sink to wash her hands. “Would you like some coffee?”

“I’m okay, thank you.”

Wilhemina nodded. After drying her hands, she guided them to the living room. Purpura jumped on the couch, demanding for pets as Venable sat down. “Hi, darling.” The cat meowed.

Billie Dean smiled as she took a seat next to Wilhemina. After tucking her feet up underneath herself, she reached to pet Purpura as well. “I love her little sweater,” she commented.

“Thank you. She loves it, too.” Venable scratched between the cat’s ears. “She gets cold easily, so she needs one during winter.”

“I can see that.” Billie Dean watched as Purpura sniffed her hand, soon bumping her head against it. Wilhemina now moved to caress the cat’s back. “Purple suits her, too.”

A small chuckle left Wilhemina’s lips. “I agree.”

Billie kept on caressing the cat, small smile adorning her lips. “How did she like Emma?” The question left her lips before she could stop it. And why the fuck did she even ask that? Emma just wouldn’t leave her mind, it seemed, and for all the wrong reasons. The tiny bruises on Wilhemina’s neck didn’t help, either.

The reminder of Emma felt like a foreign body cutting through their bubble. Wilhemina cleared her throat as she gathered her thoughts and redirected them. “She hasn’t met Emma.” The answer was a surprise. Billie Dean looked up at Wilhemina for a second. I’m tired of thinking about Emma. All the mixed up emotions and all the internal questions were exhausting. “Emma hasn’t been to my place yet.”

“Oh, right.” Were these good news? Wilhemina is my friend. We’re friends. Even if Venable weren’t trying things with Emma, would she even be interested in Billie?

Wilhemina nodded. She was thankful Billie Dean didn’t ask anything else. I just want this subject gone for now. She would have to give her thoughts more time for her to understand whatever she was feeling. “I don’t think you’ve told me about your work yesterday.”

Billie hummed. She doesn’t want to talk about Emma. Why was that, Billie Dean wondered. “It was the usual… I had to wear reindeer antlers, which was definitely something.”

“Antlers?” Venable looked up at her. Her mind tried picturing Billie’s glamorous self with the antlers poking out of her luscious blonde hair, and a small chuckle left her lips.

“Antlers,” Billie Dean repeated with a laugh. “Stupid, right?”

“Fairly.”

“I know.” Billie Dean chuckled yet again.

“I bet you look good in them, though.”

“Hm?” Honey eyes looked back at Wilhemina.

“I bet the antlers look good on you.” Venable didn’t think anything could possibly make Billie look bad. “A little bit silly, but still good.”

Billie Dean couldn’t help but laugh. Wilhemina’s honesty was just rare to find, yet she deeply craved it into her life. “I’ll take it.” Purpura moved to lay down beside them. Billie kept on scratching her head.

Wilhemina nodded. “Was Jenny there to help you?”

“She was.” Billie Dean licked her lips as she looked back down at Purpura. Jenny had been there alright, but for the first time Billie had noticed she actually didn’t help much… well, she did do her job, but she didn’t seem to notice when she needed support. Wilhemina is the only one who does. The realization was painful for many reasons.

“That’s good. Will she be there today?”

“Yeah,” Billie nodded.

“Good.”

I’d rather for you to be there. Billie Dean decided she didn’t have to say that out loud. “What about your plans for tonight?”

“I have no plans.” Wilhemina rarely had any; her weekends always consisted on spending time with Purpura and watching movies, reading books or painting. That was Venable’s element. “Why do you ask?”

Billie shook her head in dismiss. She wanted to ask Wilhemina to join her on set; wanted to ask her if she could sleep at her house again, if they could spend the day together tomorrow. But that was selfish, and Venable probably wanted some time alone and some time with Emma, too. “Just a question.”

Wilhemina nodded. She side eyed Billie Dean, noticing how focused she was on Purpura; how her eyes didn’t move, but she didn’t seem to be actually paying attention to anything at all. I wonder what she’s thinking about. “What about your plans for tomorrow?”

“Bed,” Billie chuckled. Her eyes moved up once she blinked, and she met Venable’s. A small smile touched her lips. “I’ll probably sleep and eat and then sleep again and wake up to work on Monday morning.”

“You won’t be taking the day off?”

Billie Dean shook her head. “I have too much to work on. Mainly the Christmas party… it’s next Friday already.”

Venable frowned to herself. Billie worked too much, even to her own standards—which were definitely harsh. “If you’d like, I can take over on Monday so you can take the day off to rest.” In all honesty, having to plan a party would be absolutely dreadful, and Wilhemina wasn’t sure why she had offered such a thing… but Billie Dean had circles around her eyes and a very much needed sleeping schedule to fix.

“Oh, no.” Instantly, Billie shook her head. “The party is always a surprise. It’s my way of thanking my employees.”

“Billie Dean, I don’t mind. Truly.” Venable wasn’t a fan of surprises, after all.

“No way. Especially since it’s your first one, you deserve to just enjoy it.”

Wilhemina held back a sigh. And how annoying could Billie Dean be sometimes? Why was she so damn selfless when everyone around her seemed to take and take until she no longer could stand on her own? How could Billie have everything everyone could ever want and still… be just another kind soul out there; one of the precious ones. And how could Venable not want to be around someone like that? How could I possibly not want to kiss her? Wilhemina looked away and down at Purpura again. “If you insist…”

“I do.” Billie kept her eyes on Wilhemina. She has freckles, Billie Dean noticed. Just another detail she would add to her collection. Venable nodded at her words, and Billie’s honey eyes kept on staring at her while she pet the cat. After a second of silence, Billie Dean spoke again. “I like your eyes.”

That was out of nowhere. Wilhemina chuckled and moved to look at Billie again. “Why are you saying that?”

“Because it’s true,” Billie Dean shrugged. “And because I just realized you have freckles, and that’s absolutely cute.”

Venable’s cheeks turned bright pink. “They’re ordinary brown.” She couldn’t hold Billie’s gaze any longer; not with the way she was staring at her. It was as if she were cold, and Billie Dean was simply so warm it hurt.

“Not at all,” Billie Dean protested. She scooted closer, and Purpura now jumped off of the couch. “They’re deep brown.” Carefully, she reached to turn Wilhemina’s face back at her. This is too much. But she needed it. I’m playing with fire again. A soft fingertip traced the bridge of Venable’s nose, following the freckles there. “There’s nothing ordinary about your eyes,” she said after a moment, barely in a whisper.

Wilhemina gulped heavily. Her body allowed Billie Dean to mold it however she pleased, and that was absolutely terrifying. How could Billie posses such power over her? Why did she do so? I have never felt like that before. “I prefer yours,” her words, too, were as soft as velvet. Billie’s lips curled into a smile, fingertip still tracing the skin there. “They’re as soft as warm honey.”

“I don’t think they match me… perhaps green would fit better.”

Instantly, Venable shook her head. Green wasn’t Billie Dean’s color. Green didn’t make her herself. Green didn’t felt as safe as honey brown. “No,” Wilhemina said softly. Billie’s hand now rested on her shoulder, caressing it. “They are perfect like that… inviting…”

“Inviting?” Don’t do it. But before the thought could fully register in her brain, Billie Dean had already taken a glance down at Wilhemina’s lips. Inviting. She was the one to gulp now.

“Inviting,” Venable repeated, more to herself than to anyone else. Her stomach took a turn. She shifted uncomfortably on her seat. I want to kiss her. She kept her eyes on Billie’s, afraid to look anywhere else and lose all senses of reality. Her lips tingled. And Billie Dean’s eyes never left hers, either… their breathes mixed and matched again, and when Wilhemina realized, her hand had moved to caress one of Billie’s legs, right on top of her knee. Venable could no longer think. I’ve never wanted someone so badly… What was happening? Her mind was too confused and her body refused to move and why was she feeling that way towards someone who was a friend? She should be feeling however she was feeling for Emma, and not for Billie Dean. That was the correct thing, right? And then it hit her, in a gush of thoughts and as thin as a gush of air, that perhaps… things were swapped. And friendship didn’t feel like what she felt for Billie, and romantic interest wasn’t what she had for Emma. Fuck. She gulped again. But as fast as the thoughts came, they went away. Her phone began to ring from her bedroom, and they both pulled away as if they had been caught doing something wrong. Deep brown eyes looked down. “I—I should, um, I should go get it.”

“Yeah. Yeah, yeah.” Billie Dean moved to fix her hair, occupying her hands with something else. She didn’t look at Venable’s eyes. Too close. That couldn’t happen anymore. That shouldn’t even have happened again.

With a weird nod and with her heart nearly flying away from her chest, Wilhemina reached for her cane and got up. She followed to the bedroom and, on autopilot, picked up her phone without even looking at the name on the screen. “Hello.”

“Hi!” Emma’s voice beamed from the other side of the line. Venable took a silent deep breath as she sat down on the edge of her bed. “It’s Emma. How did you sleep, gorgeous?”

“F-fine.” Wilhemina cleared her throat. “Fine.” Gorgeous. The nickname confused her. With her free hand, she squeezed the cane. “What about you?”

“Absolutely well.” Emma sounded very excited. “I’m in the market right now and I was thinking about cooking us lunch tomorrow. Would you like it? There’s this very good looking piece of salmon here, and I was thinking I could cook it for us with a side salad.”

In all honesty, Venable could barely register Emma’s words. Her heart was beating so fast it kept on sounding like it was inside of her head, and her billion thoughts per second weren’t any help, either. “Sure.”

“Yeah? Perfect! I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Ten-thirty?”

“Yes.”

“Alright! See you, gorgeous.”

“See you.” Wilhemina barely gave Emma any time to say anything else as she ended the call. Setting her phone aside, she took a deep breath. I can’t do this. I can’t do any of this. Billie Dean was the closest she had ever felt of belonging… she couldn’t ruin it. She couldn’t risk causing things to get like they were with Emma: good, but not ideal. Billie was… ideal. I don’t want her to leave me. Dating meant sometime Billie Dean would see her without any clothes on… and that meant Billie would leave her when she saw her body; her spine. I won’t handle Billie Dean leaving me. She couldn’t have anything with Billie. If Emma decided she didn’t like her, that wouldn’t hurt half of as if Billie Dean did so. She took another deep breath and got up to use the bathroom.

In the living room, Billie Dean stared down at her hands. Too close. Too close. Too close. She couldn’t keep on doing that to Wilhemina, doing that to herself. That was too painful, and for fuck’s sake, Venable still had fresh bruises on her neck! I need to go home. But Wilhemina had asked her to stay for lunch. I can’t. Billie was still tired, and she had to work tonight again. If she stayed, who knew what else she’d end up doing? Would she have enough self control? Would she even kiss me back? How foul of her, to be at Wilhemina’s house and think of her under that light, think about her touches in a way that were certainly not meant to be thought about. Am I taking advantage of her? The thought scared Billie Dean. A yawn left her lips, and she wondered if her tired brain was trying to play a trick on her. I need to go home. Billie couldn’t risk it; she couldn’t risk ending their friendship, she couldn’t risk the possibility that she was taking advantage of Wilhemina, she couldn’t risk anything, for everything was too precious for her. She got up and followed to Wilhemina’s bedroom, carefully stepping inside when she realized it was empty. From the other side of the door, she heard the sink running. She’s in the bathroom. Swiftly, Billie undressed and put on her own clothes; she made sure to place the purple pajamas neatly folded on top of the bed. I don’t want to leave. But she had to.

When Venable opened the door and stepped inside her bedroom again, fiery eyebrows drew closer together; she frowned. Billie Dean was all dressed and now sat down on the edge of the bed while putting her shoes on. “Are you leaving?” What did I do?!

Without looking up, Billie nodded. Wilhemina’s quiet tone already hurt. “I need to rest for tonight.”

“What—what about lunch?” Venable stepped closer. I did something wrong. “You can sleep here, if you’d like.” Even though she tried, her usual calm and collected words leaked a tiny amount of desperation. Billie Dean noticed it, and her own chest grew heavier.

“I really need to sleep… I don’t want to bother.” Finally, she looked back up. Venable had that worry dimple between her eyebrows again. I’m so sorry.

“You could never,” Wilhemina quickly answered. She sucked on her lower lip, frown still on her features. I did something wrong. I did something wrong. “I—I don’t mind. I might take a nap, too.”

To realize the Wilhemina Venable was trying so hard to get her to stay was an utterly bittersweet sensation. Billie Dean opened a sad smile. “Wilhie, I really need to go home… I’m sorry.”

Wilhie. Was Billie Dean really mad at her? Why did it matter so much? There were so many emotions and so many feelings in her head right now, Venable could feel herself starting to suffocate. Breathe. “O-of course. I didn’t mean to impose.” She squeezed her cane harshly in order to ground herself. If Billie Dean wanted to leave, there was nothing Venable could do.

Oh no. Wilhemina looked hurt. “You’re not. You’ve been nothing but kind to me.” Billie bit her lower lip. Is it right to leave? “Thank you for having me.” She had to.

“You don’t have to thank me, Billie Dean.”

Billie Dean now reached for her purse. Wilhemina shifted on her feet as she watched her. Is she nervous? Had she done anything wrong? “Will you be alright?”

“I’m fine,” Venable nodded. She gulped quietly. “Will you?”

“Yes.” Wilhemina looked so small in her purple pajamas… leaving her was hard. “I just need to rest.”

Venable gave her another nod. “Don’t forget to eat.”

“I won’t.”

Hesitantly, Wilhemina guided them to the front door. Purpura watched them from afar, sitting in the corner of the room. She reached for the keys and slowly opened the door. “Text me when you get home? So I know you’re safe…” Brown eyes met honey ones. Did I do something wrong? Maybe Billie Dean had finally grown tired of her… it was bound to happen, right? She had opened up, had been vulnerable… of course Billie would leave.

She looks hurt. Billie Dean couldn’t stop second guessing her decisions. “I will.” She reached to tuck a lock of her own hair behind her ear. “Wilhie, I’m sorry I can’t stay for lunch… I’m just really exhausted,” she repeated.

Venable nodded. She nodded and looked away. “It’s alright.” She’s lying.

Billie Dean wasn’t sure she believed Wilhemina. But she didn’t want to force her to say anything, and so if she said it was alright, it was alright. I’ll come see her tomorrow. “Okay… hug?”

Hug? Did she want a hug? Yes. Yes, she did… she desperately wanted it. And so, Wilhemina leaned closer and tightly wrapped her arms around Billie, making sure she positioned herself in a way Billie Dean would have to hug her waist, not shoulders and spine. Soft arms wrapped themselves around her own body, and Venable allowed her eyes to close. Did I do something wrong? She didn’t want to ask it; she didn’t want to hear the answer, she didn’t want to be seen as insane had she done nothing. Billie Dean was hugging her, and that was all that mattered right now. Floratta Blue invaded her nostrils. “Billie Dean?” Wilhemina nearly whispered.

“Yes?” Billie caressed Venable’s waist. Why was it so hard? Why was love so hard? Feelings so hard? Why was being human and having emotions so damn difficult? People were difficult. Life was difficult.

“I really like you,” Wilhemina whispered again, just because she could; just because she wasn’t staring at Billie Dean’s eyes, just because if Billie was mad at her, then what could she do? Everything was probably gone to crumbles already, anyways.

She’s upset. Billie Dean never wanted to upset anyone, especially Wilhemina… but she had to go. She had to think about everything carefully, had to think about Venable, had to think about her own feelings. “I really like you, too.” More than I should. “A lot.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” Billie held her just a little bit tighter. She took a deep breath, focusing on the lavender notes that invaded her nostrils. What am I doing? Her fingertips caressed the place they lay on Wilhemina’s waist, feeling the cloth of her pajamas. After a moment, they both pulled away.

“Take care,” Venable said softly as she stepped aside.

“I will.” Billie Dean walked outside and followed to her car. When she turned back around, Venable watched her from the doorframe. She’s an angel. How painful was that? “Bye,” she waved at her softly.

“Bye.” With a sad smile, Wilhemina waved back. She watched as Billie got into her car and, eventually, began to drive away. She took a deep breath. What am I doing?

The ride home was anything but sweet. Billie Dean yawned nonstop, and her lower lip got caught between her teeth time and time again out of sheer overthinking. Why the fuck do I feel like crying? Billie didn’t understand… she sniffled as she stopped at a red light, reaching to wipe a tear away. Didn’t understand was really a lie, though; she knew why she was crying, she knew why she felt so damn bad and so damn defeated and like everything always failed for her. She was in love with Wilhemina… and Wilhemina had her neck full of hickeys from another woman, Wilhemina touched her like a friend would, Wilhemina saw her with no second intentions. And she desperately craved those second intentions. But she couldn’t do anything about it. She couldn’t tell her how she felt, she couldn’t hold her hand and hope for her to hold it back the way she did. She had to think about Wilhemina first, about the journey she supposed Wilhemina had on finding someone, about her feelings and fears and about how much she had grown in the little time they had known one another. How was it fair to ruin it? How was it fair to come between her and Emma? I just can’t. Billie Dean sniffled again as she began to drive. I want to sleep. Billie wanted to stop thinking for a second and to stop feeling for a second and to stop wanting and longing for a woman she could not have. “Fuck!” Billie yelled to herself. Tears roamed freely on her face now, cascading down her cheeks and eventually drying or falling down to her lap. She was so damn tired of this game, of having to deal with her mind and having to deal with everything all the fucking time. I need a cigarette. How long had it been ever since she had last smoked? Billie rushed way more than she should in the streets, getting home in nearly half the time she was supposed to have gotten. Tears still streamed down her face, and when she stepped outside in her garage, Billie Dean yanked her purse and rushed her fingertips to grab a cigarette and push it between her lips. She took a long, slow drag. Her eyes closed, wet eyelashes clumping together. Fuck my life. Billie Dean leaned against the wall, purse hanging from her forearm and cigarette between her fingers. Finally her thoughts gave her a break. The tears began to dry out as she took drag after drag of her cigarette. The smell of tobacco filled her lungs and relaxed her in a way she didn’t exactly appreciate, but couldn’t live without. Once the cigarette was nearly gone, honey eyes opened again. Billie stared at nothing at all from the distance. I can’t keep doing that.

[bubblesandgutz]

Every Record I Own - Day 764: Liz Phair Girly Sound to Guyville

I was 15-years-old when Exile in Guyville came out. At that age, I was in a phase where I was fixated on loud, angry punk music and didn’t have much of an appreciation for contemporary singer-songwriters. Furthermore, my knowledge of indie rock was limited to the late ‘80s SST roster. So while I was aware of Liz Phair and her debut album, it didn’t seem pertinent to my interests. And somehow, I managed to go nearly 27 years without ever hearing a note of it. 

And then in the spring of 2020, a younger friend of mine posted something about it online and I found myself thinking “shit, if the younger generation is latching onto it, then I gotta get caught up.” So I pulled up Exile in Guyville on my phone while I was puttering around in my backyard and sure enough... I fell for its charms almost instantly. I think I’d always assumed it was more of a conventional pop record... a solo artist backed by hired gun studio musicians. The cover looked like a cross between a fashion ad and Madonna’s “Justify My Love” video. I knew it was a very “sexual” record, which only reinforced my assumption that it was targeted towards a mainstream audience.

But what I heard in 2020 was a scrappy young musician singing these unadulterated, unflinching, and resilient songs about being a woman in a male-dominated scene. Yes, it was an unapologetically sexual album. And yes, Phair had an eye for visual art, understood the allure of fashion photography, and shaped the aesthetics of her debut album to tap into that enticement. But this wasn’t Madonna. As one critic noted, Liz Phair had the appeal of a friend’s cool older sister---the one that smoked cigarettes, dated older guys, went to shows with a fake ID, played guitar, and let you rifle through her record collection.

The lore surrounding the album is too much to tackle here, but certainly a part of its appeal---the modeling of the track listing off of Exile on Main Street, the signing to Matador off the strength of her bedroom four-track Girly-Sounds tapes, the connections to the thriving early ‘90s Chicago scene, etc. The thing is, it’s a fantastic record even without that context. Songs like “Help Me Mary” and “Never Said” are just bangin’ ‘90s alt-rock pop anthems, even as they tackle the more localized issue of shit-talking and misogyny in the Chicago music community. Phair was obviously an untrained singer and musician, her vocal style being very matter-of-fact and the mechanics of her guitar playing being fairly simple. But when you hear a song like “Soap Star Joe” or “Explain It to Me,” those qualities elevate the power of the music. Like so many great folk songs, the simplicity of song structure and the relatability of the singer give the music its emotional weight. 

Ultimately, there has been no shortage of great writing on Exile in Guyville, and whatever I type out here will in no way match... say... what Gina Arnold accomplished with her entry in the 33 1/3 book series. But even if it’s a fun album to run through the lens of critical analysis or to examine as a reflection of a specific time and place, to me it will always be a great album that I immediately fell in love with in my backyard on an unseasonably warm spring day during an otherwise bleak time. 

It became my soundtrack to the happier moments of the lockdown era of COVID. I listened to it while I basked in the sun in my backyard. I listened to it while I grilled on my barbecue. I listened to it over and over again on two long road trips out to my grandparent’s cabin in western Colorado. It’s an album that feels like a beam of positivity projected out of the darkness, and it consequently felt like a perfect salve during those uncertain days of Spring 2020. It was an intimate, diaristic window into another person’s life at a time when we were cut off from other humans. It’s brash, fun, catchy, brutally honest, and timeless, and as the Northwest has gotten its first few sun breaks suggesting the upcoming arrival of Spring, it’s an album I’ve found creeping back into rotation in anticipation of warmer days.