#reminder: 'look at him' is not sufficient evidence

[do-you-know-this-adhd-character]

told my parents (both adhd) and my grandpa (not adhd but stepdad to my adhd dad) abt this blog

my mom and grandpa immediately started suggesting characters. unfortunately i have now forgotten them

my dad tried to convince me that mcu tony stark should be considered canon adhd because "look at him"

[loveliluc]

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ make up for lost time ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

— ft. alhaitham, diluc, neuvillette, wriothesley, zhongli

synopsis — even when they arrive home from work much later than usual, there you are, ready and willing to welcome them into your arms; 3.7k words.

— minors do not interact! unprotected sex. oral. fingering. mirror play. kissing. sexual language. afab!reader with no use of specific pronouns. sub!reader.

— alhaitham 𝜗𝜚

acting grand sage alhaitham this, acting grand sage alhaitham that. alhaitham has lost count of how many times he’s heard that title today, a perpetual reminder of his current station and a thorn in his side. he isn’t one to do more than required of him, what with his resolute desire to live an easy life. but one thing he is is dutiful. he will do his job, as scribe or acting grand sage alike, because doing his job well will save him the hassle further down the line. but this isn’t to say alhaitham isn’t annoyed with the situation he’s found himself in, temporary as it may be. he’s beyond aggravated as he leaves the akademiya, the sun already well beyond setting. another long day. his annoyance doesn’t last much longer through the threshold of his home, however. especially not when he sees you curled on the couch with a book. he almost sighs of relief when your pretty eyes turn upwards to meet his.

“you’re home,” you say in greeting. you snap your book shut gently as your body turns to face him, already preparing to welcome him in as you watch him move closer.

“you waited up for me again.” it’s a matter of fact statement, and it falls off alhaitham’s lips in a dull tone, but you know him, and know that he feels somewhat bad that you’ve stayed up so late just for him. but he’s grateful for you all the same. his toned body collapses next to you on the couch, quickly bringing you in close with one arm. you’re eager to receive the embrace and quick to settle yourself upon his lap.

you nuzzle your face into his neck and breathe; you’ve missed him. “i’m glad you’re home.” your arms are around his shoulders and you sigh when his hands find your waist and squeeze. the man below you simply grunts, and you know he’s beyond tired from the day. “i missed you today.”

alhaitham’s hands smooth over the curves of you and finally slip under your shirt to feel your skin. he feels you shudder. “oh yeah?” he’s never been a man in need of affirmative words, but he can’t help but love to hear you say that you missed him, him of all people.

“mhm.” your hands are toying with his hair now, fingers tangling in the silvery locks. you can’t help the involuntary grind of your hips.

the man beneath you grunts again at the action, your clothed cunt warm against his groin. his fingers travel higher up under your shirt just as he feels your lips against his neck. “how much?” he hears you sigh and feels the heat of your breath. his skin is littered with goosebumps, and they don’t go unnoticed by you. and he’s not concerned with hiding the effect you have on him.

“a lot,” you reply against his skin, your hips rolling again. you feel something hardening under you, and it grazes your heat in a way that makes you shudder. you pull your head away to look at his handsome yet tired face. “care for a demonstration?”

he smirks. “by all means.” and you’re so eager to show him, to prove to him the way you yearned for him all day. and he doesn’t speak it aloud just yet, but he doesn’t need words when his hard cock that springs out of his pants is sufficient evidence that he has also longed for you. you’re on your knees now, taking his length in your hand. he’s hot and solid in your grasp, and already so sensitive as he takes the first plunge into your welcoming mouth.

you hollow your cheeks and suck after taking what you can of him. your hand wraps around what’s left, and the combination has the scribe-turned-acting-grand-sage groaning above you. he’s so heavy on your tongue, and he tastes so good just like he always does. you’re already a mess between your thighs, panties dampened with your slick. you clench your thighs as you suck him off. the taste of him and the sounds of his raspy groans are getting to you, accelerated by your desperation.

alhaitham watches you bob up and down his shaft through hazy vision. his eyes are heavy with sleepiness, but also lust as he admires the way you swallow him. fuck, he’s missed you. it’s so evident in the way he reaches his end quickly with one final push of his cock in your mouth, his hot cum spilling down your throat. you take all he has to give and then some until he’s pulling you off him.

you swallow the last of his release while your eyes remain on his. his hand tightens in your hair. “was that good enough proof, hm?” the man above you smirks.

he’s pulling you into his lap again until your face is only mere inches away. he can feel the way your arousal has seeped through your shorts with the way you settle yourself over his bare cock. alhaitham kisses you once, twice, thrice. “i suppose,” he whispers against your skin. “but now i think it’s my turn to show you, yes?”

— diluc 𝜗𝜚

it’s no secret that your husband diluc is a busy man, to say the least. he wears many hats, and has many responsibilities. he’s dutiful in all things, dedicated and diligent. anyone would be hard pressed to find someone more committed to mondstadt than him. he does so much beyond what people are even aware of, and as much as you adore how honorable and noble he is, you can’t deny that you some times grow tired of how busy he is. he always does his best to pamper you when he can, to be the most attentive, caring spouse he can be to you. and he is very much that and more. you couldn’t ask for a better husband, it’s just…you wish you could have more time with him. and as for the last few days, he’s been even more busy than usual.

and diluc knows this, so painfully aware of his absence. which is why he wastes no time in heading towards the direction of your bedroom after getting home tonight. it’s so late that even the winery staff have already retired for the night; it’s quiet, but diluc doesn’t linger near the front door too long in worry some other obstacle may stand in his way of you. his heart is fluttering faster the closer he gets to your door, and it all but bursts in his chest when his eyes find your form. you’re springing off the bed before he can even register your movement, but his natural reflex to always reach out for you allows him to catch you when you barrel into his strong chest.

“you’re home.” you’re relieved, immensely so. your body melts in his warm embrace and you almost purr with content when you feel him relax around you.

diluc’s overwhelmed by your scent and he feels like his knees could give way any moment. as elated as he is that you’re awake to greet him, he’s overly aware of the hour and a worry rises within him. “and you’re still awake. should you not be asleep, my love?”

“can’t sleep without you,” you whine. “wanted to see you when you got home. i missed you so much.” and the pouty eyes that look up at him just about does him in for good.

he feels the way you cling to him, and he breathes a chuckle while he kisses your forehead. you’re too cute. “i cannot deny that i’m happy to be welcomed by you. i have missed you as well, my love.” and he’s pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, and he only intends for it to be a quick gesture but the way you tug and pull at him keeps him rooted in place.

the longer you kiss him the more heated things turn. you’re clambering at the lapels of his coat because you simply cannot get close enough; his hands are in a firm press around your hips and soon enough he’s pushing you backwards towards the large bed. there’s so much you both could say, so much left unsaid from all the time apart, but the best way either of you could express it all is through desperate touches and sighs. and it all escalates until he’s balls deep inside your warm, wet cunt, your legs thrown over his broad shoulders.

diluc isn’t precise in his rhythm, his cock driving wildly into your warmth and it’s all he can do to keep himself together. you’re already so overwhelmed under him, nails in his skin and his name on your lips. his mouth is all over your face, your lips, and then your neck. “missed you, missed this tight little pussy. i — hah — am so sorry, my love. promise i’ll make it all u-up to you.”

and you have no doubt he will. it doesn’t really matter how much time he spends away when he’s always so good at coming back to you at the end of the day. your face is buried in his shoulder as you wail out his name. “diluc! ‘m so close! don’t stop!”

diluc groans when you squeeze him so good. a hand snakes down between your body to press a warm thumb to your puffy clit. “will never stop, my love. never stop making you feel good. so good.” and he doesn’t stop that night; he’s tired, you’re tired, but neither of you could get enough after all the time apart.

— neuvillette 𝜗𝜚

neuvillette suspects there must be something in the water as of late, because the oddities he’s endured in such a short amount of time are abundant. his job as iudex has been particularly peculiar lately, or rather, the trials he has been overseeing have been quite…out of the ordinary. there’s been more legal documents atop his desk as of late, and as the ever diligent chief justice that he is, he allocates all of his time to make sure they’re properly sorted. a hectic work schedule wouldn’t be so unbearable though if the thought of you didn’t dwell on his mind every waking moment…

you’re his motivation to push through every document, to be done with his responsibilities and finally leave his office and seek out your presence that awaits him at home. he groans at the thought of you waiting for him, your pretty little self eager for him and only him. his trousers are becoming all too tight the more he muses upon you; it’s too much, you’re too much and you’re not even near him. he feels wildly inappropriate getting so worked up within his office, at his place of work. it’s so shameful, but he supposes it cannot be helped. all he can do now is finish as quickly as possible so he can alleviate his pent up sexual frustration.

it’s late when he arrives home, and neuvillette is certain you’re well asleep by now. but to his pleasant surprise, you’re very much awake when he steps into your shared bedroom, sitting at the large vanity. he’s stunned for a moment as he watches you; why does it feel like it’s been ages since he’s last seen you? you’re brushing through your hair but stop when you notice him, your gaze meeting his through the mirror.

you make his heart leap in his chest when you give him a smile in the reflection. “welcome home.” it’s so simple but he feels all the stress wash off of him at your attention. his feet are moving on their own accord, and you stay put to welcome him in once he’s close.

“my dear, my love.” neuvillette sighs out in both relief and adoration while he towers behind you. he’s bending forward and burying his face in your nape, and his breath makes goosebumps erupt all over your skin. his gloved hands are squeezing at your shoulders before wrapping around to settle against your waist. you giggle when he peppers kisses along your throat and shoulder.

“if i didn’t know any better, i’d say you missed me,” you tease, leaning into his embrace. your eyes watch the reflection, and you enjoy the sight of his larger frame around you. “is that a fair statement, love?”

neuvillette groans; it’s a sound that slips out more guttural and needy than he intends. “very fair, indeed.” his hands smooth over the silk of your night gown and you exhale. his need from earlier is returning with a vengeance, dick throbbing pathetically in his pants. your smell, your body, it’s all affecting him. “you’ve taken over my mind all day. I simply could not escape you in the slightest. very distracting, i must say.”

you sigh when his large hands rise up your arms to toy with the thin straps of your night gown. he tugs them off your shoulders the moment he nibbles at your neck, and you can’t help the moan that flows forth. “show me, neuvillette. show me all the ways you thought about me while you were away.”

and oh, he does. he soon has your breasts free to his viewing and feeling pleasure, one large palm around one of the plush mounds of flesh, fingers pinching at the pebbled nipple. his other still gloved hand is plunged between your thighs, two fingers knuckle deep in your weepy cunt. he watches you in the mirror and it’s a nasty sight, and when your eyes find his he almost meets his end right then and there. he fucks you on his fingers while his thumb works over your swollen pearl, urging you to your climax with haste.

“neuvillette, m-my love —” you dissolve into pleasure before you can finish your words, your high overwhelming all of your senses. it’s so intense, amplified by the way your eyes remained locked on his through it all;

neuvillette guides you through your high and relishes in the way your cum soaks through his gloves. he’s kissing your temple as you calm down, but he is far from finished with you. “well done, my love. now,” he urges you on your wobbly feet. “lay on the bed for me.”

— wriothesley 𝜗𝜚

the duke doesn’t get to see the topside often. leaving the depths of the fortress is a rarity, but when he does ascend to the world above, it’s always to make his way home to you. but as luck — or lack thereof — would have it, spending time at home with you has become even more rare these days. being the warden is a never ending job, and his responsibilities persist even when he misses you so much it hurts. he’s wrangling new inmates when he’d much rather be tangled up with you, your knees folded over your form, and him balls deep inside —

wriothesley grunts when his dick throbs impatiently in his slacks. he’s fumbling with his keys in a frantic search for the house key because he quite simply cannot get inside fast enough; there’s an overwhelming urgency to be inside you that’s compelling him to practically knock down the front door once it’s unlocked. it’s been much too long since he’s been graced with the sweet wrap of your cunt. he’s almost sprinting through the house towards your shared bedroom; fuck, he hopes you’re still awake. and thank the archons, you’re awake and so beautiful and right in front of him with the prettiest little smile that’s beckoning him closer.

“ah, there you are!” you’re sitting up in bed and wriothesley almost falls to his knees at the sight of you in one of his shirts. “i was beginning to think you weren’t coming home at all.”

“sorry, darlin’,” he’s climbing over the bed, his icy gaze locked on his target: you. “tried my best to make it on time. you haven’t been waiting up for me, have you?” and he knows you have and he’s grateful. his pretty darling staying up just to welcome him home.

you hum and open your thighs so he can slot himself between them. your fingers are quick to tangle in his hair and you almost hear him purr. “not too long, i suppose. but you’ll need to be quicker next time, or else i won’t be so forgiving.”

the duke in your hold smirks widely, and you feel a pulse between your thighs at the sight. “understood.” wriothesley presses a quick peck to your nose and you giggle; the sound is music to his ears, but as he travels down your body, he’s in search for a much different tune. he hikes up your — his — shirt and sighs at the sight of your panties, which he’s swift to hook two fingers underneath. he tugs them to the side and you so obediently widen your legs for him, to show him. “mmh, guess this means i’ve got some making up to do, huh?”

you don’t get to respond. well, not with words at least. you’re gasping when his lips wrap around your clit and suck, your fingers that are still in his hair tugging at the sudden sensation. “wriothesley!”

he smirks against your sex before offering another suctioned kiss to your mound. he follows it up with long swipe of his tongue through your folds and he earns himself the most precious moan from you. “you’ve got the prettiest and sweetest little pussy, darlin’. been missing her so much.”

you burn red at his words. soon enough he’s making a sticky mess between your thighs, and all you can do is lay there and take it while he laps up your essence like a dog. “fuck, wrio! that…that feels so good!” your legs are beginning to shake as he winds you up to your release.

“is that right, darlin?” wriothesley gleams up at you, distracting you with his devilishly handsome face while his fingers sneak their way to your entrance. he might not be punctual in getting back home to you tonight, but he’s eager to get in your good graces once again.

— zhongli 𝜗𝜚

zhongli thinks that maybe he’s getting too old for this after yet another errand for the wangsheng funeral parlor. there’s been an uptick in responsibilities recently, and the ever energetic director has been full of many requests for the consultant. and he powers through them, but all zhongli can focus on is the way he misses you terribly. all he wants is to get home to you at a decent hour, to spend time with you for a moment before you both have to retire for the night to prepare for the day ahead. it’s a domestic lifestyle the ex geo archon finds himself, working a steady job with a wonderful spouse waiting for him at home. he doesn’t want it another way truly. the only time he grows tired is when his work life overwhelms his personal one, leaving him with less time with you.

zhongli ponders back on this morning; you underneath him, your hands in his hair, his name on your pretty lips as he fills you with two long fingers. the way your back arches into him, the way you shudder and weep. it’s so clear in his mind, him so close to taking you on his cock before he realizes just how late he’s running for work. he never got to have you, to relish in your tightness, and he swears he hasn’t been able to get over it all day. the desire to have you grows the closer he gets home; he wonders if you’re still awake, and he also wonders if he’ll have the self control to not wake you up if you aren’t. he gets his answer when he walks into your shared home, his eyes finding you quickly.

you’re seated at the dining room table. you look so beautiful, and there’s a pot of tea with two cups sitting in front of you. you smile as he draws nearer. “welcome home,” you greet him. “i figured i’d wait up for you, and brew you a pot of tea. i know you’ve been working so hard lately.”

the god of old’s heart swells in chest. he smiles warmly. “you’re always so good to me, my dearest,” he praises as he closes the distance with a few more strides. when he’s able, he reaches out to cup your face, thumb smoothing over your cheek affectionately. he leans down to capture your lips in a kiss, and oh, how he’s missed you.

you hum in delight and look up at him with eyes so beautiful they might just bring this ex archon to his knees. you giggle when he dives back in for another kiss, and then another, and then one more. this one lasts, it’s slow and languid. but then you reach and grasp his collar to pull him closer, and suddenly the atmosphere in the room changes.

it makes zhongli pause and chuckle, and he casts an almost apologetic glance at the teapot. “mmh, the tea will get cold…” he follows up his words with another searing kiss and clearly neither of you are too concerned with the tea. he’s handsy with you now and desperate to feel you, to pick back up where you both had left off this morning. he’s so hard, cock straining in his trousers, and when he plants you on the table and slips his fingers passed your underwear, he feels how aroused you are as well. you’re slippery with slick, and he groans. “my dearest, i simply must have you, is that alright?”

you nod eagerly. “y-yes, zhongli. please.” he absolutely cannot deny you when you sound so sweet.

which is why you find yourself a while later with your legs pinned to the table, your back arched in pleasure, and his cock nestled deep within your sodden cunt. the poor teacups rattle with every thrust of his hips, and even the table itself can’t withstand the way he takes you, the wooden furniture skidding across the floor. you’re so tight and warm and perfect around him. it’s maddening, and his large hands are squeezing your waist to keep himself grounded to reality. his tip kisses your womb repeatedly and you wail out his name. this is everything he’s been aching for all day. “so good for me. taking me so well, my dearest,” he groans. “i will never tire of coming home to you and this wonderful little pussy of yours.”

nat’s notes — if you’ve read until this point, thank you! this is my first fic/first time writing for genshin impact. so i figured this is the best time to introduce myself. i’m loveliluc aka nat! i’m new in the genshin impact fandom space, and new to the game overall as i only just started playing back in early september. guess you could say i’ve very much fallen down the genshin rabbit hole lol. i hope you enjoyed this first piece, and i look forward to posting more! would love any support on this, and would love to create new moots going forward. i also ask for patience as i am still getting to know many of the genshin characters so sorry if i write anyone ooc. thank you! <3

[saturngas]

hickeys on display

[🪐] satoru wears proudly the hickeys you left on him last night

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: established relationship; only one suggestive paragraph; crack fic? again me trying to be funny; nanami mentioned!; slight possessive traits;

word count: 1k

..

nanami sometimes pitied you. you were a good human being, a nice woman, a devoted and strong sorcerer. but why did the world reward you with this menace that calls itself satoru?

the moment his eyes landed on the tall sorcerer walking in the bakery shop, nanami swore he wanted to throw himself off the window.

satoru had convinced him to go out to his favorite bakery shop to spend time while his beautiful wife returned from the mission. the blonde man actually didn't have any other plans for the day, so he could bare a couple of hours with the strongest.

but not like this.

Japanese culture revolved in humbleness and respect towards others. satoru was anything but that. he had gained multiple stares since he landed on the bakery, all eyes focused on the angry marks on his attractive neck and collarbones.

"what happened to you? were you attacked on your way here?" nanami asked sarcastically as satoru sat down in front of him.

"what do you mean, nanamin?" he faigned ignorance as he adjusted himself on his sit, his large hands fidgeting with the menu. nanami sent him a dead stare, not believing his cluelessness. "oh this?" he pointed to his exposed skin. "oh it's just that I miss my wife so much. I also want anyone to know im so taken."

Nanami couldn't believe his ears. he wanted to choke the hell out of the sorcerer for being so shameless.

"your ring is sufficient."

satoru eyed the silver band adorning his ring finger, the lovely reminder of your wedding playing on his head. "well, yeah I guess... but people dont usually look at other's people hands first."

the curious and judgmental stares from the strangers in the store were making nanami a bit uncomfortable. maybe he should just have his baguette as a take out.

"nanamin, have you ordered yet? I think ill have the strawberry cheesecake and a vanilla milkshak— what are you doing?"

in front of him was nanami holding up his phone, hands ready to take a picture of satoru as an evidence to you and a reminder to him to never go out with him again.

"im sending your wife a picture of you. I hope she doesn't approve this and takes you home away from people." as soon as satoru heard the mention of his wife, he stood taller in his sit, puffing out his hard chest, his exposed bruised neck more on display as a boyish grin struck his face.

"haha, okie~" a fit of giggles left his lips that made nanami exhale the hardest he had that evening. "please tell her I miss her and that I love her with all my heart."

come get your husband. he has no shame.

your phone buzzed in your pocket as a final puff left the remaining of the curses you just have exorcized. you checked the message sent by a good friend of yours, nanami. you couldn't help but laugh.

since you were called for a quick mission not too far from tokyo, poor satoru was left alone without his pretty wife. he insisted on going with you, however you reminded him of the house chores he had been avoiding the past weeks.

your husband had a habit of sending you recurrent messages whenever you were away. it could be him on a mission overseas sending you pictures of himself in every angle just to crack a smile on your face. or it could be him spamming you on texting him back if you left him on read by accident.

right now, it had been around thirty minutes since satoru had informed you he had finished his duties, sending you visual proof—he would often get away with it—and a dozens of messages declaring he missed you and was miserable without you, so he let you know he would be visiting nanami, probably because there wasn't anyone within his range he could bother.

what you didn't expect was the photo attached to nanami´s previous message.

satoru was sitting in a booth—probably in some bakery shop—with one of the biggest grins you had seen on his angelic face. his baby blue eyes were covered by his rectangular glasses and his white hair was a bit messy.

but what immediately caught your attention wasn't his toothy grin or his perfect jawline—it was the shameless exposure of his bare neck, where purple and red marks decorated the pale skin of his collarbones, neck, and trapezius.

the night before was a night. satoru made you feel so full that your eyes were at one point covered in tears of pleasure, your jaw as tight as ever as you took all of him so well. the carnal heat inside you was boiling and daring to explote, so you released it with snug bites on satoru's skin, anywhere within your range, making him groan and hiss in painful arousal. there were moments where you would almost chew on the rosy skin to suppress the loud moans. satoru took good care of you. but now?

your husband deliberately decided to wear that low collar sweatshirt you loved so much. but not right now! how was he so uncaring about showing the entire world your marital business?

a sighed left your lips as you replied to nanami with an "im coming," before departing your way to the place, already having the directions since satoru left his location on with you all the time.

"please dont ever do this, toru."

"then dont give me these hickeys! and dont leave me alone too much! I need to remind myself you still exist, baby."

"I was done with my mission in like two hours!"

"oh wow, you are getting stronger pookie bear."

taglist: @snwvie @fanficsforkicks

hello guysss, im working on other works because I have like so many ideas but it's kinda hard to write them all the way I want to. im also working on pt 2 of some works some of y'all have suggested. bare with me alr :]

[ohimsummer]

A GOD’S HEIR

— minors dni, cult leader! suguru, non-sorcerer! + f! reader, exhibitionism/voyeurism, creampie, breeding kink, light blood mentions, some manipulation, prob some form of blasphemy (suguru kinda has a god complex), kind of proofread? :D

deafening silence. despite the room being completely full of people, not a single word from them is dare uttered. it’s an act of respect to the downright vulgar display taking place on stage.

loud, obscene moans seep from your lips and echo off the walls to grace his followers’ ears. the brutal sound of smacks, derived from slick and sweaty skin as the feral slams of his pelvis meet your ass. a stream of tears muddles your vision. all you can make out is the vague forms of your leader’s bowed followers before him.

geto was such a nice soul, kind and caring enough to put down a mat so your poor face wouldn’t get chafed on the floor. you couldn’t necessarily say the same about his treatment of the rest of your body—how his fingers burrow into the skin of your hips, manhandling you back and forth to slam onto the massive girth of his cock. his other hand holds a fistful of your hair to smother your face into the thin pad of fabric, tightening ever so often to tug painfully at the strands. a smear of blood is painted across your lips, oozing from where he sank his teeth into you during the kiss.

the way geto bullies his length inside of you is overwhelming, to say the least. he stretches you out until it’s almost unbearable, flushed tip battering that delicious spot that threatens to make you black out. you can feel the messiness between where you two meet. the sheer amounts of slick and cum dripping down your thighs.

“sh— shit.” you hear him curse under his breath, tell-tale throbbing of his dick signaling he’s close to another orgasm, one which you were born to accept gratefully.

despite geto’s roughness, and his never ending generosity, giving you so much that you can barely handle it, you will take it all with open arms. he is a god— that much is evident without his heavy reminders to you and the other plebians occupying his sanctuary. recently, he has made a decision: to so graciously bless you of all people to birth his heir from your ordinary body. the thought makes you giddy. though it will be a hard job, who are you to say no to a god?

geto presses his hips flush against yours, and you are once again flooded with endless streams of his seed. you’re far past thoroughly bred at this point, poor pussy gushing with the results of his hard labor.

he looks up to glance around the room again. no one has moved a muscle since this whole thing started, both out of respect and fear for their lives. geto just catches someone’s eyes dart back to the floor, a bold move that he’ll kill them for later because how dare they even think they’re worthy enough to look at you two, at this euphoria-driven process to create his next-in-line. their disgusting gaze is a plague on the whole scene. it taints it, ruins it like blood in water. it leaves a bad taste on his tongue. one that can only be alleviated by stuffing you full again. and again and again and again, until the worthless souls around him are sufficiently reminded of their place beneath the two of you.

💫: @staryukis @teddybeartoji @anthoosies @bubblez-blop @deepenthevoid @domainexpansionmypants @luvvmae @starlightanyaaa @soraya-daydreams @apatauaia @b-b-b-my-b-f-f @getouolgy @sataraxia @leilalilox @babytoshiii @sugu-love @akumicchi @sugojosgf @k-cris @triviahct @reiluvr @venzlenes @lovesickliyue

[wyvernest]

feast on me

pairing: dom!miguel o'hara x f!reader

warnings: smut, foodplay, grinding, marking, possessive miguel, objectification,

summary: you and miguel try something new, and he gets lost in the raw lust of enjoying every inch of your body

You are sprawled out on his king size bed, waiting. Your heart is drumming in your chest, eyes never leaving his.

"I've been dreaming about this." He rasps, looking down at your form, gaze piercing and imposing. Your attention flows down his perfectly sculpted abdomen, down to the boxers that do very little concealing to his erection.

Leaning down, hovering over you, he makes you feel small, submitted. You let a near animalistic feeling rush through your veins, that he owns you entirely, that your only purpose is to obey him and do his bidding. And the best part about it, it makes your panties soak and mind fuzzy with lust, the way he has you on your knees with just one look. 

Gripping both your wrists with one hand, he releases a strong web string, restraining them to the bed frame. Climbing on the bed, his weight and height alone reminding you of the strength and stamina you're about to try to endure, he traps your thighs in between his, the pressure between your legs increasing. 

His nostrils flare momentarily, pupils dilated. Your breathing is already laboured in anticipation. He bends down, straying from the plan, just to sense how aroused you are. Your scent floods his lucidity, his cock visibly twitching under the flimsy fabric.

"Miguel.. get on with it already. Stop teasing."

"Let me enjoy it, mi vida." His tone is dripping with need and desperation, held back only by his desire to be the one in charge. "You smell so good when you're so ready for me."

You feel burning heat rise to your face. "Ah, Miguel," the rest of the plea dissolves into a moaned sigh.

"Estás bien rica, mami", he licks and bites at the dip of your waist, puffing hot breaths over the soft skin. "Make me hard with just one look."

You begin squirming, wanting to feel more. Wanting him to stick to the idea he had.

With a groan, he reaches for the bedside table, taking the syrup. Your eyes widen, as if you haven't discussed it already. He removes the cap with evident impatience before he starts pouring it over your chest and waist in calculated motions. You flinch as the liquid drips down your naked body, avoiding his lustful gaze. 

When he deems it sufficient, he gets rid of the bottle and stares down at you in awe, a starved man with a five course meal right in front of him. 

His eyelids hang low over his wide blown pupils, showcasing not a single thought beyond wanting to get his mouth on you and dick between your soaked folds. With his arms now bracketing your torso, he gets to work.

You feel like a piece of meat, the prey he's devouring so hungrily, nothing to stop or bother him. You moan his name as his warm breath falls heavily over your flushed skin, indecisive about the place he should start.

And he goes for your neck.

The scent of him, cologne and his distinctive musk invade you like pheromones, drowning out the sweet essence of the syrup. He groans against the crook of your neck, and you give a futile attempt to free your legs from his hold and rub your cunt on his hard cock. He licks the liquid clean from your skin, paying close attention to the sensitive spots he has learned so well. You instinctively tilt your head to the side, your body silently begging him not to stop without your mind even present. One of his hands travels down your side, kneading the soft flesh of your breast, careful not to smudge the cream. 

"Let me.." You whine, pushing into him, feeling the considerable weight of his fat cock laying on your lower belly as he leans down further over you. He can't help but chase the friction, either.

He raises to your face in response, swallowing your empty begging. You taste the aroma of the syrup on your tongue, eager  to prolong the kiss. But before you can deepen the connection, he departs, leaving you even more riled up and utterly frustrated. 

"You're so pretty when you're needy." He teases right into your ear, before resuming the licks and bites down your neck. He has to actively stop himself from sinking his teeth in your skin, the feeling of your smooth and soft skin, the heat of your need, are clouding his judgement.

He reaches your collarbones, his hot tongue lapping up the liquid, always followed by open-mouthed pecks and small bites. You arch your back into his touch, needing his mouth just a couple inches lower. He continues to lick your skin clean, slowly and mindlessly grinding his erection into you.

You feel used, strictly for his pleasure. You're nothing but a fuck toy, unable to voice your own frustrations, forced to take whatever he'll give you. 

You try to move your hips against him, but his thighs tense impossibly tighter around you, and you think you're going to die right then and there.

"Mira qué tetas tan bonitas", He rasps before taking one nipple in his mouth, sucking lightly. You whimper and push your chest closer to his face. 

He extends his tongue to press it flat over the tender flesh of your breast, indulging in the feeling of your skin, heated up underneath his touch. He kisses hard over the expanse of your chest, almost hurriedly. 

Your brain is fried with the wet sounds reverberating in your ears, combined with the unabashed groans of the man on top of you.

Your chest is covered in his spit; marked up in various spots by reddening patches, the traces of his need to make you his. You smell like him, and you really are, utterly and completely, his.

He licks up a long stipe of syrup through the valley between your breasts and looks up to you, before taking both of them in his hands, groping and fondling, playing with the soft flesh as he continues his kisses down your navel, to the line of your waist. 

Your eyes roll back as you let out a deep breath you didn't realise you were holding on to, feeling the girth of his rock hard cock rub in on your lower belly. He's unconsciously rocking his hips back and forth, a barely there movement, slow enough not to drive him towards release but harsh enough to make you squirm harder underneath him.

"Así estás muy guapa" he whispers in between rushed licks and kisses across your chest, when he parts his mouth from your soft skin, before diving right back in as if you'll disappear. Exhales laboured, words breathy and deep, he confesses;

"Me pones tan cachondo.", his nostrils flare as he takes your syrup coated breast in his mouth, one hand gripping your waist, the other drifting down. "I wanna be inside you." 

"Please - I've been - ah", he returns to your neck unexpectedly, after having finally licked you clean. "I've been trying to tell you -"

He ends the protest with a hungry kiss, messy and sloppy. His tongue is in your mouth quickly enough, taking you by surprise while his hand works his boxers down his thighs. By now, his cock is twitching in need, precum running down the shaft. 

He shuffles away from you in order to give you enough space to curl your sore legs around his waist, before you feel a broad hand splayed out on your back.

You can barely register his intentions as he flips you both, placing you on his lap and presenting you with his raging erection, propped on your stomach.

You automatically place your hands on his firm chest, feeling up his pecs. He leans forward, kissing below your ear.

"Ride me."

translations:

Estás bien rica - You're really hot

Mira qué tetas tan bonitas - Look what pretty tits

Así estás muy guapa - You're so beautiful like this

Me pones tan cachondo - You make me so horny

a/n: as always, correct my spanish if you notice any mistakes<3

edit: yes i re-uploaded cause apparently i got shadowbanned and i hope it's fixed now

[eddiediazismyhusband]

okay no bc i actually need to see abuela having a meaningful talk with christopher about how shannon wasn’t a good mother and that he’s old enough to know the truth rather than eddie just over-romanticizing the whole thing

christopher does not need to be shamed for being upset at his mom leaving. the whole “she didn’t leave, she died 🥺” argument is just factually untrue when she fully intended to leave again before she had her accident

he does not need to be coddled and told about how hard it was for her when she was actively being just as ableist as ramon and helena. he is 13 years old; if he can make a decision on where he lives, he can hear the truth of how awful his mother was so that maybe he can actually provide sufficient context to the actions his dad has taken

yes, she was very young when christopher was born, and no eddie was not a perfect husband/father in the beginning; but the point is she didn’t even give him a chance to even begin processing his PTSD when he cane back, immediately vilifying him for everything before doing the same exact thing as what… petty revenge? giving him a taste of his own medicine? you’re an adult woman with a son who needed you and you walked out on him because you didn’t want the stress. okay, that’s fine, that’s your choice

but don’t show up once he’s older demanding to see him because “he’s my son too” and then proceeding to shame eddie, the one who HAS been there for him after you left, for something he already has made clear he regrets, and has also atoned for by stepping up and actually taking responsibility rather than shirking them the moment it got ‘too hard’ when his parents would have been more than willing to let him do

and then to try and manipulate him with the whole “he’s my son” “we can be a family again” bullshit as a way to get back into his pants— only to dip as soon as things start to get serious again?

and on top of that, the “she was just a girl” argument doesn’t even hold up because yeah, she WAS just a girl. she’s not just a girl anymore. she’s a grown adult woman shirking her responsibility because she doesn’t want to be a mother. That’s all well and good; she doesn’t have to be a mother. But once you make that decision, don’t go crawling back acting like you weren’t the one to actively decide to leave. You’re an adult, making adult decisions, and you need to handle the adult consequences of those adult decisions.

sorry no one will ever be able to convince me to like shannon and im sick of the writers trying to force rose tinted glasses on her existence bc of tim’s obsession with bringing devin back out of nowhere every two seconds

anyway sorry for the shannon rant i saw thay post i reblogged and it just reminded me how much anger i hold towards her for everything she did and how i hate it when people are like “oh she changed she wanted to try again 🥺” when she quite literally didn’t, as is evident by the way she immediately tried to run away again the moment she had to be an adult.

also there is no way buck would EVER look at the way she treated chris and eddie and then actively be friends with her. friend-ly maybe, civil at best, but he would never look at the lasting hurt she caused those two and actively chose to persue a friendship with her.

anyway getting off my anti-shannon soap box and i just needed to get that off my chest lamo

[sassenach77yle]

I WOKE DRENCHED in sweat. The thin chemise in which I slept clung to me, transparent with wet; the darkness of my flesh showed in patches through the cloth, even in the dim light from the unshuttered window. I had kicked away sheet and quilt in my disordered sleep, and lay sprawled with the linen shift rucked up above my thighs—but still my skin pulsed with heat, waves of smothering warmth that flowed over me like melted candle wax. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, and stood up, feeling dizzy and disembodied. My hair was soaked and my neck was slick with perspiration; a trickle of sweat ran down between my breasts and disappeared.

Jamie was still asleep; I could see the humped mound of his upturned shoulder, and the spill of his hair, dark across the pillow. He shifted slightly and mumbled something, but then lapsed into the regular deep breaths of sleep. I needed air, but didn’t want to wake him. I pushed away the gauze netting, stepped softly across to the door, and into the small box-room across the hall. It was a small room, but it had a large window, in order to balance the one in our bedroom. This one had no glass as yet; it was covered only by wooden shutters, and I could feel drafts of night air drifting through the slats, swirling across the floor, caressing my bare legs. Urgent for the coolness of it, I stripped off my wet shift and sighed in relief as the draft skimmed upward over hips and breasts and arms.

The heat was still there, though, hot waves pulsing over my skin with each heartbeat. Fumbling in the dark, I unfastened the shutters and pushed them open, gasping for the great draughts of cool night that flooded in upon me. From here, I could see above the trees that screened the house, down the slope of the ridge, almost to the faint black line of the river far away. The wind stirred in the treetops, murmuring, and wafted over me with blessed coolness and the pungent green smell of leaves and summer sap. I closed my eyes and stood still; within a minute or two, the heat was gone, vanished like a quenched coal, leaving me damp but peaceful. I didn’t want to go back to bed yet; my hair was damp, and the sheets where I had lain would still be clammy. I leaned naked on the sill, the down-hairs of my body prickling pleasantly as my skin cooled.[...]

Then I saw Jamie, standing still. He made no noise, but I felt him at once; a warmth, a thickening, in the cool air of the room.

“Are ye well, Sassenach?” he asked softly from the doorway. “Yes, fine.” I spoke in a whisper, not to wake Lizzie and her father, who slept in the back bedroom. “Just needed a breath of air; I didn’t mean to wake you.” He came closer, a tall naked ghost, smelling of sleep.

“I always wake when you do, Sassenach; I sleep ill without ye by my side.” He touched my forehead briefly. “I thought ye were maybe fevered; the bed was damp where ye’d lain. You’re sure you’re all right?” “I was hot; I couldn’t sleep. But yes, I’m all right. And you?” I touched his face; his skin was warm with sleep. He came to stand beside me at the window, looking out into the late summer night. The moon was full, and the birds were restless; from near at hand, I heard the faint chirp of a late-nesting warbler, and farther off, the squeak of a hunting saw-whet owl. “You recall Laurence Sterne?” Jamie asked, evidently reminded of the naturalist by the sounds. “I doubt anyone who’s met him would forget him,” I said dryly. “The bag of dried spiders makes rather an impression. To say nothing of the smell.” Sterne carried with him a distinctive aroma, composed in equal parts of natural body odor, an expensive cologne that he favored—which was sufficiently strong to compete with—though not to conquerconquer—the pungencies of various preservatives such as camphor and alcohol—and a faint reek of decay from the specimens he collected. He chuckled softly. “That’s true. He stinks worse than you do.” “I do not stink!” I said indignantly. “Mmphm.” He took my hand and lifted it to his nose, sniffing delicately. “Onions,” he said, “and garlic. Something hot . . . peppercorns. Aye, and clove. Squirrel-blood and meat-juice.” His tongue flicked out like a snake’s, touching my knuckles. “Starch—potatoes—and something woody. Toadstools.” “Not fair at all,” I said, trying to get my hand back. “You know perfectly well what we had for dinner. And they weren’t toadstools, they were woodears.” “Mm?” He turned my hand over and sniffed at my palm, then my wrist and up my forearm. “Vinegar and dill; ye’ve been making cucumber pickles, aye? Good, I like those. Mm, oh, and soured milk here in the fine hairs on your arm—were ye splashed churning butter, or skimming cream?” “You guess, since you’re so good at it.” “Butter.” “Damn.” I was still trying to pull away, but only because the stubble on his face tickled the sensitive skin of my upper arm. He smelled his way up my arm into the hollow of my shoulder, making me squeak as the strands of his hair drifted across my skin. He lifted my arm a bit, touched the damp silky hair there, and ran his fingers under his nose.

“Eau de femme,” he murmured, and I heard the laughter in his voice. “Ma petite fleur.”

“And I bathed, too,” I said ruefully. “Aye, with the sunflower soap,” he said, a slight tone of surprise in his voice as he sniffed at the hollow of my collarbone. I gave a small, high-pitched yelp, and he reached up to lay a large, warm hand across my mouth. He smelt of gunpowder, hay, and manure, but I couldn’t say so, what with him muffling me. He straightened a little, and leaned close, so the roughness of his whiskers brushed my cheek. His hand fell away, and I felt the softness of his lips against my temple, the butterfly touch of his tongue on my skin. “And salt,” he said, very softly, his breath warm on my face. “There is salt on your face, and your lashes are wet. D’ye weep, Sassenach?” “No,” I said, though I had a sudden, irrational urge to do just that. “No, I sweat. I was . . . hot.” I wasn’t any longer; my skin was cool; cold where the night-draft from the window chilled my backside.

“Ah, but here . . . mm.” He was on his knees now, one arm about my waist to hold me still, his nose buried in the hollow between my breasts. “Oh,” he said, and his voice had changed again. I didn’t normally wear perfume, but I had a special oil, sent from the Indies, made with orange flowers, jasmine, vanilla beans, and cinnamon. I had only a tiny vial, and wore a small dab infrequently—for occasions that I thought might perhaps be special.

“Ye wanted me,” he said ruefully. “And I fell asleep without even touching you. I’m sorry, Sassenach. Ye should have said.”

“You were tired.” His hand had left my mouth; I stroked his hair, smoothing the long dark strands behind his ear. He laughed, and I felt the warmth of his breath on my bare stomach.

“Ye could raise me from the dead for that, Sassenach, and I wouldna mind it.”

He stood up then, facing me, and even in the dim light I could see that no such desperate measures on my part would be required. “It’s hot,” I said. “I’m sweating.” “Ye think I’m not?” His hands closed on my waist and he lifted me suddenly, setting me down on the broad windowsill. I gasped at contact with the cool wood, reflexively grasping the window frame on either side. “What on earth are you doing?” He didn’t bother answering; it was an entirely rhetorical question, in any case.

“Eau de femme,” he murmured, his soft hair brushing across my thighs as he knelt. The floorboards creaked under his weight. “Parfum d’amor, mm?”

The cool breeze lifted my hair, drew it tickling across my back like the lightest of lover’s touches. Jamie’s hands were firm on the curve of my hips; I was in no danger of falling, and yet I felt the dizzy drop behind me, the clear and endless night, with its star-strewn empty sky into which I might fall and go on falling, a tiny speck, blazing hotter and hotter with the friction of my passage, bursting finally into the incandescence of a shooting . . . star. “Ssh,” Jamie murmured, far off. He was standing now, his hands on my waist, and the moaning noise might have been the wind, or me. His fingers brushed my lips. They might have been matches, striking flames against my skin. Heat danced over me, belly and breast, neck and face, burning in front, cool behind, like St. Lawrence on his gridiron. I wrapped my legs around him, one heel settled in the cleft of his buttocks, the solid strength of his hips between my legs my only anchor.

“Let go,” he said in my ear. “I’ll hold you.” I did let go, and leaned back on the air, safe in his hands.

The fiery cross cap 107 ZUGUNRUHE

[alicepao13]

Hudson and Rex S03E16 - The Art of the Steal - PART A

As I said, not very high stakes finale, unless you count Charlie and Rex being in danger for like a minute.

Black letters in quotes: Actual show quotes.

Green letters in quotes: What I come up with my twisted brain.

You know that when a main character goes to the bank, some shit will happen. It's the law.

Charlie and Jesse talking recipes. And then we're going to end up with takeout.

"I gotta go. Rex has fans again." Always and forever.

"Man, I just wanted to make a withdrawal. How does this always happen?"

Jesse, stop talking recipes, Rex and Charlie are in danger!

"Rex, down." "Okay, but you'll tell me when I can rip him to shreds?"

What do I have to do to get this guy properly locked inside a bank under the threat of a gun (or several)? Or in some other ideal locations, basements, etc. I mean, Charlie whump was sufficient last season, I just... want... more.

"My partner and I are cops and you're the most unlucky fucker in the planet."

Don't touch the evidence with your bare hands, Charlie.

More gallows humor.

Sarah: "I'm glad you're okay." Charlie: "Glad enough to not leave... maybe?" If they're going to pretend this episode is actually after the previous one, then I'm going to pretend Sarah's job offer is on Charlie's mind.

Well, they did have everyone worried.

Hi, Mason.

Charlie: "Don't tell me you're starting to like him." Rex: "I'm allowed to have friends you disapprove of."

What do you mean you don't want coffee because you're vegan? What?

"You might have everyone fooled but you're not fooling me, you little dirtbag."

"Do you know if you locked your [car] doors, Detective?" Uh, he better. It's a police car. Disguised as a sports car but whatever.

Joe, come on. We should be allowed to interrogate whomever we want is related to the case.

"Joe, when has Rex ever been wrong?" "Charlie, we cannot hold someone indefinitely based on the testimony of Rex." Indefinitely? He just got here.

"Is it possible that Rex might have been mistaken for once?" Oh, you did not.

Annie: "Sorry, that's not him." Rex: "How fucking dare you?"

Jesse: "Maybe Rex's nose is broken or something." Rex: *low growl that promises pain*

Only Charlie believes in him! Okay, Sarah hasn't expressed an opinion.

They both look so sad.

Jesse to Sarah: *whispering* "Hey. Ask him." Sarah: *whispering* "No, he's busy." Charlie: *whispering* "I can hear you, guys. What? What?" Why do you have to be such dorks?

"The barbecue is still on." Oh, yes, that was important.

Charlie: "Take care of [Jesse]." Rex: "You mean the trouble magnet? Absolutely."

"There's no shame in being the third best investigator in town." Yes, that is exactly what Charlie was worried about.

Sarah brought flowers! And not much else lol

*about to expose Charlie's scheme*

Charlie: "Wow, you guys are pretty bad at this whole work-life balance thing." Work-life balance will forever remind me of Severance now. Damn it.

"Does the caramelizing of the butter come before or after the drive-thru?" lmao

Subtly working in there that Mason's lens has a scratch. No one noticed. It's not significant. It will never come up again.

That's what you guys do in your barbecues? Jeez.

3D-printer sculpting? What's next?

How did I hit the image limit on this episode? To be continued on Part B.

[blackjackkent]

new here so "this is the kind of life i always dreamed about." for whoever fits? :3c excited to read your stuff!!

(Prompts for Found Families)

:D Aw, thanks! Gonna go back on my Hector/Karlach fluff-and-angst train bc it never stops running. XD

-----

With a grunt, Karlach tugs at her shirt, feeling it stick against her abdomen. "Damn. Really painted ourselves up this time, huh?"

It's not really an exaggeration. The battles in the Steel Watcher foundry were brutal ordeals, some of the most intense fights they've had since reaching the city. While Jaheira has healed the worst of their actual wounds, the evidence still remains; both Karlach's clothes and Hector's are soaked in blood.

Hector gives her a sideways look. "You sound almost pleased about it."

She grins crookedly. "Occupational hazard of the front line, Soldier. We're alive and the bad guys aren't; can't ask for more than that." She nudges him in the ribs. "You were really good in there, y'know."

He has looked more than a little troubled ever since his encounter with Gortash's horrifying arrangement of Watcher brains, so she's pleased to see him smile. "Oh, was I?"

"Mm. Always love watching a master at work." She winks. "Gets me thinking about what else those hands can do when they're not punching out cultists..."

"All right, all right, enough of that," Jaheira breaks in briskly, slapping Karlach's arm. She rolls her eyes, but she's grinning, so the chastisement loses some of its edge. "Enough mooning about; go clean yourselves up. Even in the rank depths of this city, such a great deal of blood is likely to draw attention."

-----

There's a secluded spot at the river's edge next to the foundry pier. When she's sure they're sufficiently out of sight, Karlach tugs her shirt off with a satisfied grunt and lets it fall onto the surface of the water. Hector's lands next to it, and they watch as slow lines of red begin to drift off of the fabric like spreading ink, flowing downstream in the nearly imperceptible current.

"I could really do with a proper bath," Hector says wearily, sitting down in the dirt at the edge of the water. "But that will have to wait till we get back to the Elfsong." He picks up a nearby stick and prods at the shirts to agitate them.

Karlach flops down next to him and stretches out with a contented sigh. Her head rests gently against his hip. "Gods, that's proper luxury, though, after all we've been through," she says teasingly. "Just going to go back to our rooms and draw a bath. Spot of tea afterwards perhaps. All posh and proper."

He chuckles. "Very true. As always, you remind me to count my blessings."

She lets her eyes drift half-closed, listening to the bustle of the city beyond the foundry wall. "Y'know, this is the kind of life I always dreamed about," she mumbles abruptly.

She can hear Hector's smile. "Really? Washing blood out of your clothes in the harbor? That was the dream?" He dips one hand into the water, then flicks his fingers gently so droplets spatter her face.

She yelps and sticks her tongue out at him. "Well, I don't mean this specifically. Although I'd never have said no to sitting about with a hot guy with his shirt off." She reaches up to poke him in the stomach, and grins seeing him squirm and blush.

"No, I just mean..." She rattles her lips in an outward breath, thinking. "Being back here, in the city. With someone I love. Friends around. Busy day, important work to do. A home to go back to, of a sort." She cracks a slight grin. "Laundry."

He listens in silence, running his fingers in slow, gentle motions through her hair.

"I used to dream about the river, y'know," she goes on after a while, half to herself. "In Avernus. All curled up in my bunk, trying to hold onto what the real world was like, and who the fuck I even was. I was so fucking scared I'd forget..."

A pause. "This river, I mean," she adds. "The Chionthar. Avernus has the Styx, but it's not the same. Water's hot and smells like blood, even when there's no blood in it, which there is most of the time. I dreamed about going swimming in the Outer City. Skipping stones. Everything simple and easy and clean, and the water cold like ice..."

He considers this for a moment. Then he dips his hand into the water again and lifts it to rest, chilled and dripping, on her chest over the heat of her engine heart. She catches her breath, her eyes squeezing shut; goosebumps flare all over her body and she shivers pleasantly. "Perfect," she murmurs.

She knows the sound of his smile in his voice - knows it well enough, too, that she can hear the sadness mixed with it this time. "As good as the dreams?" he asks gently.

She opens her eyes and looks up at him, then presses her hand against his cheek, her thumb rubbing along the rough edge of his beard. "Never pictured you in any of the dreams, I'll tell you that," she says teasingly. "Tell young Karlach in Avernus - you'll shack up with a monk and go back to the city and save the world, and everything'll be a fucking mess but you'll be free and loved and home." She snorts, a little too sharply to cover the sudden tremble in her voice. "She'd've laughed in your face."

He turns his head to kiss her fingertips. "I wish I knew what was coming," he says softly. "I wish I could fix everything... I wish that more than anything in the world. But I'm so happy we could bring you home."

[scryptids]

frank dillane / he/they  ———  no way is that PEREGRINE ‘PERRY’ KRAVEN.. they’re a 33-year-old HUMAN notoriously known for being FLIGHTY  &  PESSIMISTIC  but there are some people who have seen them being LOVING  &  OPEN-MINDED.  if you ask me, they remind me a lot of an unpacked suitcase full of clothes that need to be replaced, dirt caked under their fingernails from working in the garden for too long, bright smiles paired with blushing cheeks, and an old guitar that goes untouched, but that could just be because they’re considered the NOMAD around town. just keep an eye on them  &  see if their true colors shine through..

full name: peregrine ashe kraven birthdate: april 21st age: 33 height: 6’0”  occupation: carpenter ship status: in an open relationship with river patel bio:

perry kraven has never wanted to sit still, not even for a minute

born in london to a single mother, he was accustomed to moving around a lot at an early age, and he likes to think that it’s ingrained in his bones at this point

by the time perry was seven, he and his mother had lived in three different cities, and four different towns, and they had never once fully settled down in once

she was a chronic dater, always finding a man to cling onto and then uprooting her child when the relationship didn’t work out

it was hard on perry, but she never seemed to pay attention what was and was not good for her son, and so they had a very strained relationship from the start

he became more and more self-sufficient as the years went on, and by the time perry turned seventeen, he was working full time while also going to school, one of which he struggled with more than the other

he loved to work with his hands the most, often building little structures for stray animals or even fixing things up around whatever house he and his mother were living in at the time

but perry didn’t want to stay living with the woman who gave birth to him, and so he packed up and left, not even once stopping to look back

he didn’t bother to finish school, and he purchased himself a one-way ticket to america, knowing that leaving the country he grew up in would be far better for him

when they arrived in america, perry chose not to settle down right away

they’re a very friendly individual, so meeting friends had never been a problem for them, and through those friends they made new connections

they couch surfed for a long time in the lower district of dallas-fort worth, living only out of a suitcase and finding odd carpentry jobs to make money

somewhere along the way, perry met river patel, and they fell deeply in love

neither of them were the type to commit, but perry knew that river was their twin flame, and they’ve been hopelessly devoted to them for years

they keep their relationship open, and perry has a few other partners that he sees regularly, but he will always continuously go back to river

in fact, their love for river is what finally led them to settling down in their own apartment

they knew it would be nice to have a consistent place to rest their head at night, and so they saved up all of their money and got a tiny little apartment in the lower district

since leaving london, perry is a far happier person, and it’s evident by their demeanor

they like to keep things light and happy, and they will do just about anything for anyone if they’re asked to

sometimes people take advantage of their kindness, but perry figures that life is short and you can’t spend time dwelling on the terrible things

these days, perry still makes money by doing odd carpentry jobs, and they’ve also made it their mission to spruce up the lower district a little

they want everyone to have nice things no matter where they live, and he can often be found doing landscaping projects in the local parks and playgrounds

perry just has a very big heart, and it’s his eternal life goal to give back to people

[frostyreturns]

So that post about evolution reminded me I wrote this post which has been sitting in my drafts, it’s a plato-like dialogue that represents just about every argument i’ve ever had about evolution.

Wait so you’re telling me you believe humans evolved from non humans hundreds of millions of years ago...and you believe that crocodiles were around before humans...and didn’t change at all in those hundreds of millions of years. 

evolutionist: yes crocodiles are an anomaly and didn’t change because they didn’t need to evolve to survive. 

Isn’t it more likely that your idea is just wrong and and that’s evidence of your wrongness rather than an outlier. I mean if survival is your explanation for why crocodiles didn’t need evolve that means you think we evolved in order to survive...which means we evolved things like speech and higher order thinking to survive...but if we need them to survive how come apes survived without it. Also if it takes million of years to evolve and we evolve to survive doesn’t that mean we would have to survive for millions of years without a basic biological survival function. If we needed to walk upright to survive how did we survive without it. This is circular reasoning and it looks like you’re trying to handwave away evidence your theory is wrong. Actually now that I think about it, if all of our bodily functions are evolved doesn’t that mean we’d need to survive without basic functions at some point...how did we survive without blood clotting for example...that’s a very complex and organized function of the body how would any species that needs it survive without it, we’d have all bled to death over minor injuries or died from infections. 

Evolutionist: No it’s not it’s one outlier there are outliers in science all the time one exception doesn’t disprove the rule.

Ok what about sharks.

Evolutionist: Okay two exceptions dont disprove the rule. 

What about bats? We have fossils you say are 50 million years old of bats that look identical to modern bats and nothing that indicates what they evolved from but you just assume there is an undiscovered fossil of Pre-bats.

Evolutionist: okay so three examples against all the examples that prove the theory.

 You guys like to claim the fossil record backs up your theories but it really doesn’t, you don’t have anywhere near the kind of evidence you claim to. Even Darwin said the fossil record didn’t match his theories but he just believed that given time and technology we’d discover the missing pieces and the record would fill out and vindicate him...but all this time and all this paleontology tech later and the record is still virtually the same as it was in his time. Which Darwin himself gave as sufficient reason to dismiss his theory, if Darwin were a good and honest scientist and if he were alive today he would not be an evolutionist.

Evolutionist: that’s still only 3 examples

 What about the coelacanth? You guys said it went extinct 65 million years ago, you had fossils that you said proved this then you not only discovered the fish still alive and kicking but it was alive and totally unchanged from it’s fossils and what it was supposed to look like 65 million years ago. You expect me to believe in the same time that left 4 animal species totally unchanged mankind totally evolved from one species to another? one is an outlier...4 is a trend...and that’s not even all of the examples.

Evolutionist: You creationists would just rather believe an invisible man in the sky poofed everything magically into existence.

See this is always the point where it turns to mockery because your actual ideas become indefensible because they’re wrong and you get mad because everyone told you that there’s no possible way to argue against evolution logically or with reference to hard evidence and so when you hear it you don’t know what to do. You’re always the first to bring God into the discussion when your ideas are debated scientifically because that’s all you’ve got, propaganda, ignorance of alternate theories and alternate explanations of evidence and dismissing all dissent as religious nonsense...even when it doesn’t feature in the argument.

Evolutionist: The evidence is on my side you just ignore it.

No we actually have the same evidence my interpretation of it is just different and I’d argue more charitable, more rational and more likely. For example scientists estimate that it takes around 50 thousand transitions for one species to become another species but the transitory fossils we have are maybe one or two. So what’s more likely... that these were one or two unique mutations and don’t indicate a species transition at all or were themselves a separate unique species...or that we are just missing 49,998 transitory fossils which we will totally find one day. I mean in your chart of human evolution most of those stages are assumed and digitally rendered and you just believe you will discover those missing fossils one day...that’s not evidence.

What you do have evidence of is minor changes within a species, but almost nobody denies that species can adapt to their environments or change slightly over time. You guys will cite the pepper moth changing colour to adapt to volcanic ash changing their environment as evidence of evolution but all you’ve proven is that a moth can be a few shades darker if the survival conditions for lighter colored moths changes...not that a species becomes another species. In fact isn’t there a thing in biology we know about and have studied that suggests this is impossible. Biologists have long known about a concept called genetic homeostasis where if something deviates too much from it’s origin genetic structure it will revert back to it’s original form because the ones that deviate too far become sterile and unable to reproduce. Which is one of the reason animals like mules can’t reproduce.

 Evolutionist: Well I’m not a biologist but we will find those fossils and you’ll look like a science denying idiot.

Well speaking of discoveries that make people look like an idiot how come we’ve found dinosaur bones with preserved and intact blood cells. I mean to someone following the evidence does that not indicate that there’s no possible way it’s been dead for as long as you guys are claiming. Or how about that man made objects like speaheads and hunting bolas have been found burried next to or embedded in dinosaur skulls. I mean you base being found in the same geologic strata as evidence of species coexistence but not this time? Or how about that the guy who invented carbon dating retracted the discovery and claimed it didn’t actually work at all and that it stopped being reliable past a few thousand years. 

Evolutionist: You’re just making that up, I’ve never seen that evidence so I’ll assume it’s fake but I wont look it up because it would be devastating to my case and would undermine the lifes work of my entire field and profession. 

[ashleys-echo]

Chapter Seven: On Borrowed Time

A soft drizzle coated the windshield as Meadow parked her car outside the courthouse. The damp air mirrored the pit in her stomach as she stepped into the building. She clutched a folder of receipts and evidence in her hands, hoping they’d be enough.

The courtroom buzzed with low murmurs as people shuffled in and out. Meadow’s chest tightened when her case was called. The judge barely glanced at her as she presented her documentation.

“These are incomplete,” the judge said flatly, flipping through her papers.

“They’re not incomplete,” Meadow protested, her voice trembling. “They show all my payments.”

The judge looked at her over the rim of his glasses. “Then why do the records from your landlord state otherwise?”

Meadow felt the heat rise to her cheeks. “Because they’re lying. They haven’t processed my payments properly. I have receipts—”

“You’ll have to sort that out with legal counsel,” the judge interrupted. “I’m granting you an additional month to gather sufficient proof or vacate the premises. Next case.”

Just like that, it was over. Meadow stumbled out of the courtroom, clutching the folder to her chest. The hallway was filled with people in similar situations, their faces drawn with worry and defeat. She overheard a woman sobbing quietly to her husband about losing their home, and for a moment, Meadow felt like she was drowning in the collective despair.

---

The cold air outside hit her like a slap, but she welcomed it. It was better than the suffocating heat of the courtroom. Back in her car, she let out a shaky breath, her hands gripping the steering wheel as tears blurred her vision. She wasn’t just losing an apartment—she was losing her sense of control.

---

Work didn’t offer much of a reprieve. Denise was as sharp-tongued as ever, and the absence of Lennox left a noticeable void. Meadow found herself glancing toward the coffee station, half expecting him to be there with a sarcastic comment or a crooked smile.

“You’re slower than usual, Sayers,” Denise snapped as Meadow fumbled with a tray of plates. “If you can’t keep up, maybe I should find someone who can.”

Meadow bit the inside of her cheek. She couldn’t afford to lose this job, not now. “I’m doing my best,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Your best isn’t enough,” Denise shot back before stalking off.

Meadow’s coworkers exchanged sympathetic glances but said nothing. However, later in the shift, one of the nurses approached her as she leaned against the counter in the break room, her head in her hands.

“Hey, Meadow,” the nurse said softly. “You hanging in there?”

“Barely,” Meadow admitted, her voice muffled.

The nurse sat down beside her. “I’ve been there. If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m around.”

“Thanks,” Meadow said, managing a small smile.

It wasn’t much, but the gesture warmed her, reminding her that she wasn’t completely alone.

---

At home, the reality of her situation hit her harder with every passing day. She had begun packing in earnest, sorting through her belongings with a mixture of frustration and sorrow. Most of her furniture would have to stay behind—ruined by the roach infestation that management had never bothered to address.

As she packed, she came across a faded photo of her younger self with Judith. They were smiling in the old kitchen of her childhood home, their hands dusted with flour from baking cookies. Meadow sat back on her heels, staring at the photo as memories washed over her. She remembered how Judith used to sing while they baked, twirling Meadow around the room in fits of laughter.

Now, Judith rarely smiled, let alone sang.

---

One evening, Meadow sat down at her tiny dining table and began writing a letter to the judge.

---

To the Honorable Judge,

I am writing to request a reconsideration of my case. I have lived in my apartment for three years, and during that time, I have faced numerous challenges, including unsafe living conditions and financial struggles.

The property management has failed to apply several of my rent payments, despite me providing receipts and proof of money orders. I trusted them to handle my payments appropriately, and now I am being penalized for their negligence.

I am not asking for sympathy—I am asking for fairness. I need more time to find a safe place to live, as the current timeline leaves me with no options. Please consider granting me an extension or reviewing the evidence I have provided.

Thank you for your time.

Sincerely,

Meadow Sayers

---

She set the pen down, staring at the letter. It felt futile, but it was all she could do.

---

By mid-January, the days had begun to blur together. Work, packing, and searching for housing consumed every waking moment. Meadow hadn’t seen Lennox in weeks, and the silence was deafening.

On a particularly bad day, she found herself gripping the counter in the break room, trying to keep from falling apart.

“Hey,” a familiar voice broke through the fog.

She turned, her heart leaping as Lennox stepped into the room. He looked tired but healthier than the last time she’d seen him.

“Lennox,” she said, her voice cracking.

“Miss me?” he teased, though his grin didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“You have no idea,” Meadow admitted before she could stop herself.

His expression softened, and for a moment, the chaos of her life faded. “You doing okay?” he asked, his tone low.

“No,” she said honestly. “But I’m surviving.”

“Surviving’s a start,” he said, his voice steady. “If you need anything, Sayers, you know where to find me.”

She nodded, her chest tightening. “Thanks, Lennox.”

“Anytime,” he replied, his smile finally reaching his eyes.

---

As January 31st loomed closer, Meadow felt the walls closing in. She didn’t know where she would go or how she would rebuild, but she knew one thing: she wasn’t giving up.

[lndslorepuzzler]

Under Deepspace 07: Moonlight Under Sea, pt 1-11

01: Investigation: Using the high-level access, FMC manages to find a news article from two years ago; a man shot and killed in his apartment, with no evidence about anything. After listening to the recording*1 and viewing the video, she gets an offer to take a bounty: the bounty on Qi Yu's head.

.

02: Canvas Enigmas: FMC heads to Qi Yu's place, where she finds him on the floor. Luckily he's not dead, only asleep. All over the floor are sketches, each labeled with 'Lemuria.' When Qi Yu wakes up, he asked FMC to help him up; if she chooses to, Qi Yu yanks her to the floor, and they go out to eat. While at lunch with Qi Yu, FMC lets him know there's a bounty on his head in/from the N109 Zone, which he is already aware of.*2 He also notes that someone has been following them, and the two of them make plans to give the pursuer the slip.

.

03: Secret Tracking: As it turns out, their follower is a reporter, looking for gossip re: Qi Yu's possible involvement in Raymond's death by drowning, as his painting vanished from Raymond's room without anyone else being in or out. There were also rumors that Raymond had cut up the skin of his arms and legs to look like fish scales. After some sufficient threatening, Qi Yu lets the reporter go with the suggestion that he make up for his reckless behavior by finding out who exactly has been spreading the rumors/trying to cover up information in the first place.

.

04: Under the Waves: FMC and Qi Yu have a quiet moment in a sky garden; Qi Yu mentions that he daydreams in his studio all the time, and has difficulty remembering what the real world is actually like. He thanks FMC for "bringing (him) out of his dreams today." When FMC begins to leave, Qi Yu reminds her that they still haven't gone to find a replacement for the coral stones for his paintings. FMC is less than enthused, until Qi Yu offers his help to get her into N109. He says, "when you see the big picture, you need to use some bait... Trade intel for intel, gamble to make gambles with higher stakes. But whether or not you can play the game is up to you." He tells her that if she decides she wants to go through with it, she can meet him at Whitesand Bay the next day. She goes, of course; as it turns out, and according to Thomas, Qi Yu has rented a rowboat "for a date."

.

05: Set Sail: Qi Yu and FMC head for Hat Island*3 while conversing about how Qi Yu is going to try and obtain a protocore to make paint. There's some exasperated banter, and just after making a comment about how he'd rather swim, the trip is interrupted by a very sudden incoming wave. The two of them arrive at Hat Island somewhat worse for wear. Interestingly, FMC says she's the reason they made it to shore in the first place, while Qi Yu announces that "(he'd) rather float in the sea than be on land."

.

06: Spring Excursion: On the island, FMC explains field trips to Qi Yu, and he suggests that FMC resonate with the coral to see if she can pick up any Metaflux fluctuations; he stops her from accidentally breaking it, and assists her in resonating; he says, "Everything in this world has a unique, unmatchable frequency. That's why each life is isolated. But your Evol allows you to change your frequency. You can resonate with others. If you open your heart, you can establish a connection. And share your power."*4 It works, which visibly startles Qi Yu, and some Wanderers show themselves.

.

07: COMBAT

.

08: Weak Fiends: Qi Yu gives FMC the protocore they obtained. FMC is surprised that her resonating with the coral had any effect at all; she and Qi Yu decide to camp for the night. A cat with a metaflux injury makes itself known. Qi Yu is extremely upset about it.

.

09: Withstanding the Storm: FMC drags Qi Yu to find the cat, which scratches him. Almost immediately, a 'Deluge Wyrmlord' arrives. It attacks, and Qi Yu splits the water with his Evol. He says, "Guess you like my blood a lot more, huh? Sorry to break it to you, but my fire can never be extinguished."*5

.

10: COMBAT

.

11: Indomitable Spirit: After defeating the Wanderer, FMC and QI Yu are dragged out into the ocean; seeing Qi Yu in the water, FMC tries to head toward him. After a brief exchange (and a flashback scene where Qi Yu says, "It's settled then. If you don't return, I'll... I'll chase you to the ends of the Earth.") FMC starts to sink, and Qi Yu is going to let her. He only hesitates because he 'hears' FMC ask him not to go. A little red fish appears over his heart. He reaches her, and says, "You forgot everything. Yet, you still insist... All right... This is your choice." His eyes flash completely blue, instead of their usual blue-pink, and we are given a glimpse of his 'real' Lemurian body as he heads towards the surface.

.

.

*1, In hindsight, we will recognize this voice as Qin Che. It's likely that the two people with him are Luke and Kieran. *2, See World Underneath: Long Lost Treasures. *3, The MERMAN is taking his (probably) Long Lost Love out on a goddamn ROWBOAT. Just so we're all on the same page. *4, I believe this is the cleanest explanation of what exactly FMC's Evol is truly capable of, so far. *5, It can be universally agreed that it's a bit strange for the mermaid to have fire Evol, though that doesn't explain why the Wanderer appears after Qi Yu's blood, specifically. There may be some background lore happening there; also, I'm not entirely sure the English translation is 100% accurate.

[mistressofthemanor]

masterofthemanor

Caught up in their conversation, Lucius missed the sound of the careful tapping against the windowpane at first and it took the tawny owl of his lawyer several attempts to finally catch his attention. Once he'd spotted the creature nestling against the glass, he pointed it out to Narcissa while pushing himself up from his chair then walking to the window to open it and retrieve the letter that had securely been attached to it's leg. Unsure what it might entail, he ripped the envelope open and unfolded the parchment to skim along the lines, unable to keep himself from letting out a heavy sigh upon learning that he'd urgently need to provide a few more details in concern with the estate. Excusing himself and informing her that he'd have to respond to the letter, he grabbed the envelope and headed into his study, where he'd spent long minutes contemplating whether to even begin looking for the required documents or simply instruct the lawyer to put the process on halt, for Narcissa's return put everything in a different perspective, so much so that he felt they might be better off discussing their plans and ideas for their future before he'd made any drastic decisions on his own. With that conclusion in his mind, he jotted down a few sentences, claiming that he needed some time to look for the documents and promising that he would get back to him in a few days, figuring that time frame would be more than sufficient and he'd be able to come to an agreement with Narcissa. Just as he was sending his owl off with his reply, he'd heard the hesitant, yet familiar chords of the piano which made him stop in his tracks. Carefully, he'd made his way towards the source of the music and the further he'd advanced, the more confident she'd become and the longer she'd played the more evident it'd become that her beloved piano he'd gifted her was slightly out of tune, nevertheless, it still hadn't taken anything away from her tranquil performance, in fact, it added to the ambience as it reminded him of times long gone. Fearing he might distract her with his presence, he stopped in the doorway and watched her from a distance. She had her back turned to him, so she wasn't able to see him, however, he leaned against the frame and positioned himself in an angle so that he could see her petite hands and soon, he'd found himself to be mesmerised by the combination of the placid melody and the way her skilled fingers danced over the keys, weaving the notes with ease, which brought back memories for him; memories of her sitting in the exact same spot and pouring all her emotions into a piece or simply entertaining their children- one particular occasion floated onto his mind as she progressed and a faint, bittersweet smile broke his otherwise serene façade as he visualised their toddler son perched on the bench beside his mother on a sunny afternoon, nestling at her side and calmly listening to her play to him and to his sister, who's been inside her womb. Often he would hear her play for them, sing to them, read to them or engage them in other creative activities and each of those occasions would make him fall im love with her even more.

As she played, she also could tell how out of tune the piano was but she didn't care. It was just so nice to be able to play again and to feel the notes return to her so easily as if she had just played that song yesterday. As she grew more confident, she had picked up her own pace and leaned forward towards the piano while her fingers moved back and forth. For a moment, she could almost hear the laughter of her children behind her and her eyes closed for a moment, the song already memorized in her heart as her fingers continued to dance over the keys. Draco would be laying on his stomach with papers sprawled out as he colored dragons and knights on each of his papers, fire spreading as he wanted to destroy each town that he drew. Celeste would be sitting in the corner with pillows surrounding her and her dolls laying next to her as she whispered to each one how beautifully her mommy was playing and how they had to be quiet as she played. She would take a tiny brush and brush their hair as Narcissa played to keep them calm in those few moments. It always seemed to work when they were at each others throats, she could play and it would make them relax and focus on what they wanted to do. Without realizing, her cheeks grew wet with the rush of emotions that flooded her at the yearning for her children to be that tiny again, that sweet and affectionate, that innocent once more. That was all gone as the world had gotten to them both and their hearts were not as pure and clean as the were as sweet children. She wished she could have protected them better, done a better job of keeping them safe from harm but this was life. They had to both grow up and find their own way. As the song came to a close, her fingertips lightly brushed on each note as she made them softer and softer before dropping her hands and inhaling sharply. Once she had released her breath, it was then that she realized she had cried and she wiped away any moisture on her face before closing the piano lid and turning to see Lucius standing in the doorway. "Oh, I...I didn't hear you," she breathed, blinking away any unshed tears.

Skeletons

[pastorralffriedrichs]

"My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness."

2 Corinthians 12:9

In this passage Paul was afflicted with what he described as “a thorn in the flesh” — it was something that caused him constant pain. It was such a deep-felt difficulty that he took it fervently to God in prayer, three times pleading to have his suffering taken away. The verse above is God’s answer to Paul. But how was this an answer to prayer?

God didn’t remove Paul’s painful burden. In fact, God told Paul that he wouldn’t remove it at all. But God’s answer to Paul’s prayer was even better: my grace is sufficient for you. Notice God didn’t say, “My grace is sufficient for this difficulty;”

God said “My grace is sufficient for you, Paul.” Paul asked for deliverance from one ordeal, but God guaranteed him grace for every trial, throughout his life.

And, although Paul would still experience much suffering, God reminded him that this simply gave him an even greater opportunity to exalt the name of Christ. My strength, God declared, is even more evident when you are helpless. Therefore, this struggle is an opportunity for you to fulfill your purpose as a Christian, more than you ever could in a pain-free life.

My friends, rest assured that God’s grace is still sufficient. His strength is made perfect in weakness.". It seems that sometimes we have to get to the end of ourselves before we will look fully to God. But when we do, we find that He is more than enough.

If you are there today or close to that point, take hold of God's strength. Put your trust in Him. He will bring you to the place of your breakthrough, and you will find the strength and the direction you need. My friends, rest assured that God’s grace is still sufficient, and that His power is still being manifested through the difficulties you face in your life. What a marvelous answer to prayer this is!

https://ralffriedrichs.info