#✧⠀⠀━━ ARCHIVED UNDER⠀⠀/⠀⠀PINNED⠀⠀.

[itchyeye]

In the light of how horrible of a flop tmagp is, do you have any good jonelias fic recommendations? Or just good TMA fic recommendations in general?

ok ty for your patience!! the first thing i will rec very selfishly is just all of my tma stuff which is all gathered together under one pseud for ease of access.

jon/elias

a heavenly madness by roundthedecay / @doomsayings

an au where jon falls in love with jonah magnus via a haunted oil painting. the absolute best tma fic of all time.

######## by inthebelltower / @vincentpriceofficial

jon comes to elias at the end of the world and begs. truly one of the most bang-on dead accurate jon and jonah voices i've ever experienced, and delightfully formatted as a statement transcript. perfection.

dark square bishop by blissymbolics

jon and elias play chess

the second before the other shoe drops by krete / @igixri

jon comes to elias' home to repent for his full belly

analogue by screechfox

absolutely beautiful bit of body horror in elias' office

pinned in vain desire by statuscrow

a collection of times at which jon compels elias

a little closer by insuspensa & paradisepuppet

jon's all consuming crush on elias culminates in a lunch-hour blowjob

jon/michael

persuade by neverwinterthistle

elias and michael compete for jon's attention

nobody knows me as well as you do by grieve

a missing scene from my fic curiouser & curiouser in which jon buckles under the weight of elias and michael's affections

jonah/mordechai

crude and proud creatures by whatitis

jonah goes into the lonely to retrieve barnabus' remains

elias/peter

yellow pansies by grossferatu

peter buys elias flowers

gen

open door policy by milkteamoon

jon has a unique and particular phobia that working in the archives seems to aggravate

fractals upon fractals by cedarbranch

helen and michael play chess

[impider]

⇀      ⋯       #MOBILE MAP : CARRD. RADIO. MEMES.

#IMPIDER is  an  independent  ,  selective  and  mutuals  only  roleplay  blog  featuring  original  character eun-seong " ezra " kang  based  on  the  universe  of  the  sony  /  marvel  movies  into  the  spider  verse  (  itsv )  ,  across  the  spider  verse  (  atsv  )  and  the up  incoming  beyond  the  spider  verse  (  btsv  )  .  this  blog  exclusively  features  an original  character  with  original  and  headcanon  based  lore  /  very  little  canon comic  involvement  .  this  blog  is  not  spoiler  free  and  will  discuss  and  feature  information  and  content  from  both  movies  out  currently  .  using beta editor and dark mode . bitten  by  dani  (  25+  ,  est  ,  they  /  them  )  .

#A STUDY ON ⋯ the  repercussions  of  great  power  ;  the  weight  of  great  responsibility  ;  sometimes  being  the  chosen  one  and  other  times  being  the  chosen  one's  goofy  ass  sibling ; " i am my brother's keeper "  ;  the  call  to  adventure  ;  accepting  the  fact  that  you'll  never  truly  be  ready  to  jump  ,  but  taking the plunge and swimming through the clouds  ━━  because  it's  a  leap  of  faith  . 

[august-racoone]

thats it, im taking notes now

[justme-again04]

I’m like if an avatar of the corruption was a non-binary college student majoring in entomology

[nucifraga]

Been doing some research for a mini, mike-themed, conspiracy-esque board, and I've come across some interesting things:

Firstly, a 1981 article on the effects of being struck by lightning.

It's... very, very interesting how many ways a lightning strike can mess up your body. Human beings are very fragile things indeed. Notably, though, the results were that 'no continuing problems [were] observed' in the victim, which checks out. ["The doctors told me there would be no long-term damage from my accident."]

This 2008 article has a few things of relevance; namely that lightning strike victims:

Bear lichtenberg figures as a result of damage to the capillaries which usually go away in 24 hrs, but may be associated with 'deep pigmentation'. But I don't think this is the case with Mike, as I believe his scars are pale/almost-white. ["his face got so pale his branching scar seemed almost to vanish"]

May experience keraunoparalysis; the temporary paralysis of of the limbs, as result of the lightning's electricity taking the path of least resistance (i.e. through the nerves) and playing havoc with the nervous system and subsequently, both motor ability & sensation. ["you’re trapped in a statue of yourself"]

May experience retrograde amnesia; the inability to remember past events/experiences. ["The part that always bothered me was how I didn’t remember it. Not really."]

He was almost certainly hit dead-on/directly by lightning.

There's a few types of lightning strikes from what I can tell; direct, side flash (indirect), ground current & upward-streamers. The fact that Dominic Swain was unharmed (and within hearing distance of Mike, right before the flash) suggests that it wasn't a side-flash or ground current. You need a tall object for an upward streamer, but they were "playing in a field" so it's unlikely to have been that. That leaves only a direct strike. Direct strikes are less likely to have living victims, but this is TMA. And Mike survived. Mostly.

[lluu50]

I don’t really do queues it's now or never

[koushirouizumi]

{Blog P.S.A} For New Followers

Where to Find Me: MY "ABOUT"+F.A.Q {READ FIRST}: Here (About) + Here (F.A.Q)! A.0.3: Hikari {Currently/Mainly creating for Digimon, Adventure-related franchise} Other Sideblogs: izzyizumi (main Digimon blog) hikari-m (official Digimon {news+art} archiving; Asks or follows may come from here, Depending) taichi-x-koushiro (Archiving for Yagami Taichi/Izumi Koushiro) IF YOU ARE A NEW FOLLOWER OR LURKER, I'd really appreciate if you can send me an Ask and introduce yourself (you do not need to expect a response from me), even a short description like name (Pennames are definitely fine!), preferred pronouns (if any) and/or what brought you to my page and what you're staying for (Especially if you were here for re-source{s} posts, I've been curious if they've been helping anyone!) The reason I am asking this is because lately there's been a huge uptick of spam blogs following with particular "patterns" to their Likes, Follows, etc. and in order to prevent from being soft-blocked by accident if you are not actively blogging, it'd be great to know in advance if you're a real person. Aside from A.0.3 the only other 'active' archives of social media that I have are my old Live-journal and Dream-width accounts, and even they're not quite in use these days. However, if you also have active LJs or DWs and actively blog, feel free to let me know too!

It’d be very, very cool if people could also learn to read my FAQ page linked on the sidebar before sending Asks or interacting directly with either of my blogs or myself, because I’m seriously TIRED of people ignoring it and my rules for interaction.

I am a {diagnosed since childhood} Autistic, G.N.C {Gender Non-conforming} + THEY/THEM Jewish blogger. I reblog about those topics here for that reason. {Also my Ko-fi is here.}

* PLEASE DO NOT FOLLOW OR INTERACT WITH ANY OF MY POSTS IF YOU BLATANTLY HATE/DISMISS, OR EXPECT ME TO HATE/DISMISS THE ADVENTURE [+02] + TRI + KIZUNA + 2020 CHOSEN, KOUSHIRO (*ANY KOUSHIRO, INCLUDES FOR EXAMPLE: TRI!KOUSHIRO, OWG!KOUSHIRO, 2020!KOUSHIRO, KIZUNA!KOUSHIRO), TAICHI (*ANY TAICHI, INCLUDING 2020!TAICHI, TRI!TAICHI, KIZUNA!TAICHI), DAISUKE MOTOMIYA (or “DAVIS”), SORA TAKENOUCHI (*INCLUDING 02!SORA, TRI!SORA, 2020!SORA, KIZUNA!SORA), HIKARI YAGAMI (*INCLUDING 02!HIKARI, TRI!HIKARI, KIZUNA!HIKARI, 2020!HIKARI), MIMI TACHIKAWA (*INCLUDING 02!MIMI, TRI!MIMI, KIZUNA!MIMI, 2020!MIMI), MIYAKO INOUE (*INCLUDING KIZUNA!MIYAKO), ALL/ANY OTHER DIGIMON GIRLS SUCH AS IZUMI ORIMOTO {FRONTIER}, JURI KATOU {TAMERS}, JUN MOTOMIYA {02}, OR MEIKO MOCHIZUKI. THANK YOU (I WILL PERMABLOCK IF YOU FORCE-INTERACT OR BLOCK EVADE)

* PLEASE DO NOT FOLLOW OR INTERACT IF YOU CAN’T STAND MY SHIPS TO THE POINT YOU CAN’T EVEN BE RESPECTFUL WHEN INTERACTING WITH SOMEONE WHO SHIPS YOUR NOTP. (I WILL PERMABLOCK YOU IF I NOTICE)

** THESE RULES ALSO APPLY TO MY OTHER BLOG.

*** DO NOT INTERACT IF YOU SUPPORT HARASSMENT / BULLYING / ABUSE (I WILL INSTANTLY PERMA-BLOCK YOU) OR IF YOU SUPPORT / PLATFORM PEOPLE WHO DO.

NOTICE: I am much less active on a personal level on this blog nowadays (in the sense of making personal posts or fan-works/posting fic; I still reblog informative posts). I am slightly more active on my other socials, but most of them are private and friends-locked to older groups of mutuals. If you are curious or wanting to interact about Digimon (especially Adventures or about my favorite characters and ships for this fandom) specifically, please feel free to message me about them, but please understand I may not add or speak with anyone that I do not fully trust or know well. (It will help if most of your stances on social-justice issues align with and don’t blatantly conflict with my own. I tend to not add/follow people anywhere whose posts I cannot filter [i.e. there are many popular Western media fandoms / mega-fandoms I’m not in which I blacklist, types of fanworks I don’t personally care for that I blacklist, etc]. I do not do follow-backs so please do not follow or interact here expecting one). It will also help if you read my FAQ first and agree to it before asking.

PLEASE FAMILIARIZE YOURSELF WITH MY FANDOMS LIST (notably more the major fandoms but) BEFORE YOU INTERACT WITH ANY POST ON THIS BLOG. If I check/quick-vet your blog and find nothing but hate{watching} posts/“Critical” posts for my fandoms (ESPECIALLY THIS ONE), unless I’ve reblogged from you first, I MAY HARDBLOCK YOU.

[usnatarchives]

Tailspin Tapestries: The Colorful Faces of WWII Aircraft 🃏

Nose art, the decorative painting or design on the fuselage of military aircraft, has a storied history that peaked during World War II. This vibrant, often cheeky artwork served as a morale booster for the crew, adding a personal touch to the grimness of war and providing a sentimental tie to the home they were fighting to protect. The practice traces its origins to Italian and German pilots in World War I, but it was during World War II that American airmen embraced this form of expression with unparalleled creativity.

World War II represented the golden age of nose art, with American crews stationed in Europe and the Pacific leading in creativity. Artworks ranged from ferocious animals and cartoon characters to pin-up girls and patriotic symbols, each with a unique name that reflected the aircraft's character, the crew's aspirations, or an inside joke among the squadron. Names like "Memphis Belle," "Enola Gay," and "Sack Time" became as legendary as the aircraft themselves, symbolizing the spirit of the crew and their mission.

Nose art was crucial to boosting morale among crew members, providing a sense of individuality and ownership over their aircraft in an otherwise regimented and dehumanizing environment. This artwork fostered an emotional attachment to their planes, with each piece a vivid manifestation of the crew's bond. It represented a piece of home and personality in foreign skies, a reminder of what they fought for and the camaraderie that sustained them.

The subject matter of nose art varied widely, reflecting diverse personalities within the crews. Cartoons and comic characters like Donald Duck and Bugs Bunny were favorites for their humor and relatability. Artwork also featured fierce sharks, tigers, and eagles, symbolizing the aircraft and crew's power and aggression.

Many nose art pieces were painted by the crew members themselves, though some squads had designated artists. Individuals like Don Allen, who painted nearly 100 pieces of nose art, were celebrated for their contributions. Using whatever materials were at hand, these artists created masterpieces under challenging conditions, showcasing remarkable ingenuity and talent.

The practice of nose art declined after World War II, largely due to stricter military regulations and the evolving nature of warfare. However, its legacy endures, captivating historians, veterans, and enthusiasts. World War II nose art remains a powerful reminder of the human element amidst war's machinery, a colorful testament to the resilience, creativity, and spirit of those who served.

The National Archives holds a treasure trove of photographs featuring this iconic nose art, often discovered in ordinary crew photos where the art itself isn't the primary focus of the image. This creates a fascinating treasure hunt for enthusiasts and researchers alike, offering glimpses into the past where this artwork accompanies stories of bravery, camaraderie, and the personal touches that made these aircraft more than just machines of war.

More resources on the National Archives website and Catalog:

https://nara.getarchive.net/topics/nose+art https://www.archives.gov/research/military/ww2/photos

[wiltedivinity]

ıllıㅤ𝐀 𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐋 𝐗𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐂.

ㅤ⨯ characters : dom!childe;tartaglia, al haitham, kaeya alberich, diluc ragnvindr x sub!fem!reader (separate)

ㅤ⨯ if any of the following trigger you, please click off : FOURTH-WALL BREAKING, bold letters = referring to YOU (the one reading this), implied praise and degradation kink (all), usage of “sweetheart/honey/naughty girl/lovely girl/sweet girl/dirty girl/baby/good girl”, unprotected s3x & creampies (all) vaginal s3x (all), LOTS of dirty talk (all), professor/student (al haitham), hickeys and biting (childe;tartaglia), possesiveness (childe;tartaglia), clit play (childe;tartaglia), drunk!reader (diluc), fingering (diluc), implied breeding kink (kaeya), roommates with (kaeya)

ㅤ⨯ a/n : this was originally reposted from my archived blog. i wanted to make more of the archived posts for the rest of the genshin men so i decided to do this.

ㅤ⨯ archive :: taglist :: inbox / appeal information :: 18+ ONLY

How did it turn into this…? You were pinned on the desk by your professor exploring your body with his lips. You swore that you just wanted to ask him about the project but he looked so stressed and frustrated, you assumed that it was the last straw and he decided to take it out on you.

You couldn’t do anything but stay quiet. You didn’t want to get caught as well and you didn’t want to make him angry. “Or is it because You’re secretly enjoying this? Wanting to know how this scene proceeds with its advances?”

Huh…? That wasn’t part of the story… Why is he going out-of-character? And why can he hear your thoughts? “Do you think I’m stupid enough to not know what’s really going on?” He growls, slamming his fist next to your face, causing you to sweat. “The person behind the screen seems to really enjoy it at first. Wanna know how downright bad She is just for me?”

You looked away from Al Haitham but he forced your gaze on him. You gulped when he leaned in closer to unbutton your shirt and throw them on his chair. “You seem really needy for me to fuck you quick.” he looks towards you while his face was on your chest. “Patience, sweetheart. Every smut fanfiction has to have a bit of foreplay before getting right into the scene.”

What is he talking about? Why is he talking like this? “Are you seriously still thinking about that?” he sighs, “You’re ruining her mood. Why don’t you just get into character and satisfy her neediness?”

With a harsh rip of your panties under your skirt, you were bare for him. He knows you’re already fucking yourself while reading this right now. Al Haitham finds it amusing that you’d rather be going through multiple works of fiction instead of getting a real lover to take care of your needs. Not like he’s complaining, he feels a bit flattered that you were reading something of him.

“Take it nice and slow. Though She probably prefers it rough and fast once I’m fully inside with a few degrading and praising words.” you were completely dumb on why he’s talking in a weird manner. You thought this was supposed to be about you, but he seems too focused on someone else. Someone that’s watching but not actually there.

“Don’t think I’m neglecting your pleasure, though. You’re a counterpart of her. Just not as aware or accurate.” you watch as Al Haitham unbuckles his belt with one hand before fully taking his jeans off. Showing his hardened cock that was leaking with precum, it was curved a bit upwards and there were two bulging veins on the side. “Are you seriously getting in detail on how it looks?” he smirks at you.

“Please- put it in…” you pleaded, but he only brushed the tip on your wet cunt. Getting all the juices before entering inside of you. Your walls clamped around his tip and then the base, causing him to groan into your neck. “I’ll be gentle. Unless she wants me to be harsh with you.”

“G-go slow, Al Haitham.” you whined, gripping onto his shoulders as he sets a pace with his thrusts. He groans when he feels you clench around him, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as he litters your skin with hickeys. Al Haitham’s eyes were focused on You, reading this right now.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” he sighs pleasurably, thrusting in and out of your pussy as he held onto your waist to support you. He didn’t notice how your legs were shaking from the immense pleasure you were feeling in your bottom half, how good he felt when his tip kept poking every good spot you have.

“I wonder what You’re feeling right now. Probably not as good since I’m not really fucking you, huh?” Al Haitham bugs You, laughing at the way Your face contorts after you read that sentence. “Don’t be timid now. You weren’t this shy when you searched for ‘Genshin Smut’ or ‘Al Haitham Smut’ at first and now You’re getting nervous?” he smirks.

Your soughs were cut off with his lips connecting with yours, drinking up your sounds as you gripped onto his back firmly when he rammed into you at a relentless pace. “I wonder if your fingers or grinding would suffice after You read my part of the fanfic. Or will you be left unsatisfied and read the next one to fulfill Your need to release some sexual frustration?”

You hate how he was right. Hate that he can read what You’re thinking and feeling. “Since I want the best for You, I’ll let you come in this part.” you felt thankful, letting out appreciative wails as he rams into you harder and harder that your sight blurs and sees white. That your pussy was clenching on him that you were sure his hands on your waist would have bruises after the session.

You could feel yourself creaming on his cock, your body shook as he pumped your pussy full of his seed. “Like what You’re reading, lovely girl?” he teases, “I know You’re expecting more rounds, but this is all Your dirty mind deserves to have. But you can always find more fanfictions in the recent tag in Tumblr, honey. Make sure it’s about me, though.”

“Dirty, dirty.” Ajax tuts, lifting your chin up as your lip quivers. “Did You seriously think you’d go unnoticed?” he smirks, making you straddle his lap. “Searching for Smut like that? Aren’t You a bit shameless that You read other parts of various men when I’m supposed to be Your favorite?”

He harshly pulls you in by your hips, “What? You’re waiting for my part of the Smut to start?” he chuckles at your frustration. He can see how You’re getting impatient but flustered at the same time, seeing that he knows what You’re up to. “Being the dirty and naughty girl You are, getting desperate for other men even if You’re supposed to be mine.”

“Ajax, it’s not like that- I swear!” you waved your arms in a panic manner, but he only found it cute. Seeing that you in the fanfic is still naive and a bit innocent but You who is reading this is quite the opposite. You’re much dirtier than Your counterpart and You know what You’re doing when searching for more of those so-called “Smut” on Tumblr and Ao3.

“Why don’t I satisfy You to show I’m much more worth reading for?” Ajax whispers seductively, slowly taking your panties off under your skirt as he has you undo his belt and pants. Once the both of you were bare, he pinned you on the bed, putting both your wrists in one hand while the other pulled your leg up over his shoulder.

He wonders what You really looked like outside the screen. All he knows is that You might be in a dark room alone, trying Your best to copy the movements he’s about to do to the supposedly ‘you’.

You gripped his back as Ajax slowly entered his fat cock in, taking in the sight of your mouth agape and eyes widening as he filled you to the brim. He moaned a bit from how tight you clenched around him, snuggling his face into your neck as he bit into the skin, causing you to groan pleasurably and arch your back.

He thinks of how cute You are right now, probably fingering or grinding on Your bed or chair to the thought of him. You’re no different from the other readers. They’re as desperate to be fucked by some fictional character than getting a real lover, but he doesn’t mind it though. It’s nice being Your favorite and Your go-to character to be fucked from when You’re feeling aroused.

But he does know You have other favorites and he gets jealous at the thought of them. Especially seeing that this is fanfiction that has various men in it so others can pick their most favored men among the six makes him envy the others in here.

Just at the thought of that, he grows rougher with you, thrusting into you so hard that the bed starts creaking and you screamed in delight. Feeling how good he is when poking all the sensitive spots inside of you.

“Mine. All fucking mine.” Ajax growls, “Don’t read any other parts except for mine, please.”

You feel him giving your neck and collarbone open-mouthed kisses, they were wet, your body is probably stained with his saliva by now. “Just not Your body. Unless You actually want that.” he smirks, looking to the side to gaze on You.

He seductively licks your neck until it reaches to your lips, forcing your mouth open as he slides his tongue in your throat. You almost gagged at the feeling, his hand on the back of your head, guiding you on the pillow as he grinded his hard-on into you, moaning as you tightened around him.

“Fuck. You must be feeling good but so flustered at the same time knowing that this isn’t your usual smut fanfic, huh?” Ajax smirks, pinning your hips down on the mattress. “Why don’t You enjoy reading this while it lasts?”

He had enough of teasing You any further as he rammed into you, hard and fast. Keeping your waist still and steady for him to properly fuck you. He watches as your face contorted in pleasure and smiles in delight, he probably had You smiling shyly or completely unfazed since You’re probably used to reading so many smut fanfics that You learned a skill to act normal when reading one, especially when you’re in public.

Ajax’s digits teased your cunt by massaging it with the pad of his thumb. He absolutely loved the way your breasts jiggled with each brutal thrust. You feel him hitting all the right spots with his cock, he was so fucking deep you couldn’t help but ululate.

“You’re likely wet right now while reading this. It’s so sad that no one is able to help you when You’re aroused. Or You’re embarrassed to ask? No need though, because if I were to ever lay my two feet on earth, You’ll be the first one I’ll find and do.” he hugged your waist tightly, both your pelvises flushed against one another as he emptied his seed into you. “Fuck, fuck-”

Ajax let out profanities as he kept grinding his hips, riding out both of your highs. He wanted to feel a bit more pleasure from your sensitive pussy that was milking him greedily. It almost left him shaking from how good it felt.

He flopped on you, both of you letting out uneven breaths as you laid on each other. “H-hope You enjoyed my part, sweet girl, just don’t enjoy Kaeya’s. I see the way You admire him, hell, everyone admires him. And I only want Your eyes on me.”

“Diluucc~” you whined as the red-head took the bottle away from you. “C’mon! I promise it was the last one! Pleasee!” you pleaded with him but he only shook his head. “You had too much to drink, besides, you almost broke the place last time you had too much in here.“ Diluc reasons, cleaning the last glass for the night and placing it on the shelf.

“You should call your friends to pick you up. It’s getting late and I don’t know where you live. Even if you did tell me, you’d end up saying nonsense.” he huffs, wearing his jacket that was hanging nearby.

“My phone doesn’t work! It broke on my way here!” you struggled getting up on your two feet to walk towards him and you ended up bumping yourself on the counter and fell into his embrace. You only looked up at him with a stupid grin that had him feeling some type of way.

“Then take a taxi. Don’t go flirting with the driver, though.” he cited but he only got a kiss in return, it was surprising seeing you this bold with him now. Most likely from you being drunk.

He kissed you back, having your back stick to the counter to trap you on it. You moaned as you felt Diluc grind his crotch on yours, his hand gripping your hips and forcing them to sit on top of the counter.

“Strip.” demands the big man and you laughed at his commanding tone. Seeing how desperate he is for you as You are for him. “Not yet~” you sang out, “I don’t think You’ll be saying that when You’re the one searching for dirty literature of me to get off to.”

You let out a groan as he pushed you down further ‘til you’re laying on the countertop, your leg over his shoulder as his digits started teasing between your thighs. You instinctively pressed them against each other but he only parted them, tutting at you with his finger on your lips. “Don’t be shy, both of us know You like this.”

“Don’t worry though, I’ll be gentle with you. Unless…” his smirk widens when knowing how You like it rough, but he didn’t wanna give it to you that easily. You’re going to have to earn it for yourself. You whine as he peels your panties off and bunching your skirt up.

“So wet already.. I wonder if You’re more wet behind that screen of Yours.” His lengthy digits play with your clit before slowly entering themselves inside of your wet pussy and curling them, meeting a sensitive spot that causes you to moan.

You tightened around him as he continued with his advances, thrusting his fingers in a slow pace until he was ramming them into you. He inserts a third finger in and you feel so full, so good.

“I bet I pleasure you better than You do for Yourself.” Diluc unbuttoned your blouse, revealing your pair of breasts that he snuggled into. “I think you’re ready for me. I can see You getting impatient for me to fuck this so-called you.”

You couldn’t think of him as a dirty-talker of all the Genshin Men You’ve read about. “I know You don’t, I just think You like it that way. If You want me to stop, I can.”

“N-no, please continue, Diluc.”

“As I figured,” he smirked as he unbuckled his pants with one hand. “This might hurt, not like You’ll actually feel me entering inside You. You could only wish.”

Yeah You wish You could, but instead, you’re reading NSFW fanworks of fictional men that You wish to be fucked with but never got laid because of it. Deciding to just fuck yourself at the thought of them while reading multiple works from other people from Ao3 and Tumblr. Grinding or fingering would never suffice.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be quick with you. Each part has to be short because the author seems to be lazy right now except when it comes to writing ‘Childe’.” he scoffs, hopefully he’s Your favorite out of all the guys. You read him more than the others, right?

Your sounds were muffled from his lips connecting yours, his cock entering inside of your tight pussy. He groans and tries to grind upwards to get deeper into you. His dick curved upwards to hit all the right places you didn’t know were there. “Archons, you’re so fucking tight.. You must feel good despite me not actually being there, right?”

Diluc was practically fucking you onto the counter, your hips most likely will have stretch marks if he continues to grow rougher with your body. Your moans echoed inside of the empty bar, the piece of furniture you were laying on started creaking the faster Diluc thrusted.

“You must be great at imagining things, especially when it comes to smut scenes, huh? What a dirty girl.” he breathes out, you clenched around him from what he said. Your whole body was shaking the closer you got to the edge. You tried to tell Diluc you were about to come through slurred words but couldn’t from his mouth still kissing yours.

“How lonely must it be to have no one to satisfy Your sexual needs and desires that you go searching for it around the internet?” he mocks, caressing your thighs with his free hand and the other holding your waist tightly to keep you still as he plunges his cock over and over again.

“You close, baby?” he pulls away from the kiss, seeing a string of saliva connect the two of your lips. You only nodded with a heated face, most likely from the alcohol you consumed and the session you guys were in.

“Make sure You come at the same time she comes, or else, I’ll be disappointed and start a second round. But knowing You, You’ll very much like that.” he slips his cock out before plunging it back in, making you wail in pleasure.

With just a few rough thrusts, you started spasming on his cock, instinctively wrapping your arms around his neck as he continued rolling his hips into yours. Diluc groans as he pours his seed inside of you, twitching a bit from how you milk his cock dry.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” he shudders, pulling himself out to see your hole dripping with his seed. “Wish I actually filled You up to the brim though. You’ll look so pretty fucked out of Your mind by some non-existent dickening.”

You whimpered at his words but he brought you comfort by cradling you in his arms and hanging his jacket around your shoulders. “There, there. That was only to bring Her craving for more and read another one of those fanfictions after this.”

“What do we have here? Another one of You reading dirty fanworks of me? It’s not rare seeing you guys barge in, begging to be fucked without actually saying it. Though I must say, You’re my favorite out of all the readers.” your roommate walks in, catching you in the act before you could close the tab of your computer.

You chuckled nervously as he walked closer, caging you in his arms. “Don’t get jumpy now. It’s exciting seeing that I can finally let You know that I know what You’re doing when searching through multiple NSFW works from other people. Especially when they include me in it.”

He loved seeing you get flustered right in front of him. The small but obvious uptight smile you have on your face shows how excited you are with how he’s gonna advance. I mean, You did read this post just to get railed by fictional characters who aren’t even there, so why act so oblivious about it?

“Let’s start with you stripping for me, You must be struggling with all those pent-up frustrations and I’m more than happy to help out.” he begins to take off his jacket slowly, smirking seductively as you watch him discard his clothing.

“Like what you see? Who am I kidding? Of course you do.” he chuckles at your eyes, eating up the view in front of you before snapping out of your daze. “I don’t mind you staring at all. In fact, I actually like the way You admire me.”

Once his clothes were on the ground, he sat down on the office chair you were sitting, making you straddle his lap with your hands on his shoulders. You can already feel him pulling you down to grind on his clothed cock.

“I know how needy you are for me. You just wanna get straight into it, don’t You?” he tilts your chin up, his lips meeting yours as his arms wrap around your waist. Kaeya’s hand meets the back of your head to deepen your lips together, both of your bodies were so flushed that you can feel his hard-on so well.

“Be a good girl and take off your clothes.” You let out a coy sigh before doing what he says. He helps you out as he himself is impatient and desperate. When discarding the last piece of clothing on the floor, he idolizes your body before snuggling his face in your neck, biting on the skin and sucking it sweetly like nectar.

“You’re so beautiful for me.” he caresses your face before bringing them down to massage your cunt that’s already wet from the so-called foreplay. “Gosh, I might wanna fuck you right now.” he groans as his hands get stained from your wetness.

“Then do it.” you heave with a small grin, he chuckles and looks at you with his eyes hooded with lust. 

“You’re really challenging me, huh?”

“What if I am?”

“You’re bold. I love it.” he smirks, unbuckling his pants in one move along with taking his underwear off. His curved cock slapped his abdomen, you whimpered seeing at the sight of it. “Don’t worry, it’ll feel good. Much better than grinding or fingering Yourself while You read those naughty works of fiction.”

You shrugged, feeling embarrassed. But it looked like he wasn’t bothered by such a thing. “Get ready, baby. You’ll wish You were actually getting fucked by me than just imagining it in that mind of Yours. It’s amazing what the human mind can do. The brain itself didn’t know it was used to being fantasized getting railed by a fictional character.”

He lets out a satisfied thrum as he lowers your hips, feeling your wetness coating the tip of his cock before staining his whole length with him filling you to the brim. “God- You gotta admit- It feels tiring going through different NSFW accounts to search through their masterlist for any fanworks of me.”

You pant as he started pumping into you almost instantly. His thrusts were accompanied with loud slaps as he grew deeper into you. The chair would’ve almost fallen down if it wasn’t being supported by your bed. To be honest, why didn’t the both of you just do it on the bed instead? You worry for the author’s choices in this work of fiction.

You let out pleasurable soughs and tighten around his dick as he began going rougher with your body. Your pussy was spasming around him each time his tip hit your g-spot. God, it felt like you were in heaven except You actually weren’t. You’re just sitting around your house reading whatever thirsty fanfictions You can find and he knows that.

You tried catching your breath with each pant you took, Kaeya was practically fucking the air out of your lungs from how hard and rough he is. “You feel so fucking good, I swear I might fuck you ‘til dawn right now- But knowing You, You’ll definitely like the idea of having multiple rounds since You’re so pent-up You can’t suffice with one.”

You whined as he pulled his cock out of your pussy before plunging back in, making you ululate into his ear. Kaeya loved every sound you made, it just had his blood rushing in his dick again from how cute you are.

“Your moans are so angelic. You’re basically whoring out for my cock right now.” he chuckles at your hot and bothered state, you looked absolute fucked out of your mind, just like how he wanted and expected.

“I wonder what you’ll sound like when I’m done with you. But from what I know, You always stay quiet and act unfazed when reading these naughty fanfictions, right? You don’t wanna get caught being a dirty girl by other people when they see You reading these.” Kaeya simpers, he likes calling You out. Showing how much of a whore You are for him and other fictional men that he secretly despises.

You let out babbled words that even he can’t comprehend because he reads along with You to understand what he’s supposed to do.

That aside, he’s more focused on reaching his high with you. Desperate to fill your pussy up to the brim with his seed. Just imagining it got him more motivated. “Hold on tight, princess. Gonna fuck you ‘til you can’t take it anymore. Which is probably never seeing that You never get tired of reading smut fanfictions.”

He grabs your ass tightly and gives it a slap before holding your hand in his and giving it loving kisses. Kaeya’s thrusts were relentless and rough as ever, your body was quivering and sweating. You continuously bounce on his cock until you fall on him with uneven breaths.

You stared at nothing as Kaeya threw his head back, groaning out loud as he twitched and came inside of you. Your sight was blurry from tears and your sudden orgasm. You were calming down a bit and felt tired until Kaeya started thrusting upwards again, making you let out a stuttered moan.

“Like I said, I’m not stopping until you can’t take it. To be honest, You can’t read the rest of this because this is the end. I feel sorry if You still feel pent-up, just wait a little longer and hunt the ‘Kaeya Smut’ tag for new works. I promise it’s worth it, princess.”

© wiltedivinity 2024. reposting, plagiarizing, translating, claiming authorship or any form of unauthorized use is strictly prohibited. legal action may be taken against violators.

[mwaughf]

"snooze"

Nsfw headcanon for dan heng

NSFW CONTENT-MINORS DNI

Dan heng never really had an intimate relationship (or a relationship even) so he expects you to demonstrate

He is a fast learner, you could teach him to do 'it' and he knows what to do the next time

If you don't know what to do either, he will read smutty books

Once he gets used to things, he could be a little rough

Likes being the dominant one

If you are doing the deed in the express (his room/archive room), he would put a gag on your mouth to prevent loud noises

if you're part of the astral express 'family', he would go to your room and do it there

If he ever catches you reading smut, he would definitely tell you to read the smutty parts out loud and he'll do the exact same to you

He is the type to put on music while doing it

after a rough day, if you ask him to take his frustration out on you, you wouldn't be able to walk for days

He has long fingers

He likes seeing you under him

If you are into bondage, tie him up and top him, depending on how his day went, he would let you

If you tie him up after a rough day, he would find a way to untie himself and make you pay for tying him up

Nicely trimmed nails

Leaves a little bit of nail marks

Likes being choked

Again, if he had a bad day, he would love to see you in pain

If you are the one that's frustrated, he will be gentle but then turn rough after awhile

he is the type to pin your wrist with one hand while the other hand does other things

Sometimes he makes you sit in front of him with a leash around your neck

I feel like he is the type to say things like "please? Could you be more specific? " Or "eyes on me, break eye contact and I'll give you a punishment"

[miam0re]

Somebody Might Catch Us | Honkai Star Rail

Warnings: Semi-public risky sex, fingering(blade), blowjob(Welt), teasing(giving and receiving), more stuff i probably missed

Summary: Sex but with the risk of doing it in public. How exciting!

Pairings: Dan Heng, Blade, Welt Yang, Gepard X Fem!Reader (Separate)

Mia's Notes: I'm finally writing for Star Rail as well 😎 okay my favourite is DEFINITELY Welt Yang with his whole DILF vibes like uh hello those wrinkles under his eye?!?!? Please do me already heueuehe. Y'all can drop some more ideas in my inbox if y'all want <3

“Are…Are you sure about this?” He gulped nervously, eyes flitting down to where your skirt was hiked up over your hips, your bare skin shaded aquamarine under the dim lights of the archives room. Wrapping your arms and legs around him, you tugged him close enough to hover over you as leaned back on the table, whispering a seductive ‘yes’ into his ear. Your body was so inviting when he sank his dick into your warm pussy, all worries about anyone walking into the unlocked room have drained from his thoughts. At first, he’s slow, thinking he can satisfy his lust with just a little feel of your amazing body. But with every passing thrust, his pace increased till he started rutting into you like an animal in heat, muffling your moans and cries with his mouth on yours. His hands grab your thighs and push them up, angling his cock to hit you deeper and deeper each time. “I…I’m going to cum…going to cum inside…” His steamy breath fanned over your neck, teeth sinking into the flesh as he released all his essence into you, thrusting it deeper and deeper. Can’t risk spilling a drop over the table now, can you?

“Shhhh, keep quiet now, the others are right on the other side of the wall.” He’s got a mean glimmer in his blood red eyes as he mercilessly fingers your cunt, free hand pinning your wrists above you. You’re helpless under his grip as he taunts you with pinches to your clit, testing your restraint. The way your eyes are screwed shut and how you bite your bottom lip, you’re tempting him to play with you further. His fingers squelch into your cunt with rough movements that make you spasm. He peppers reassuring kissing along your jawline, as if that would comfort the way he adds a third finger to his ministrations, pressing against your fleshy g-spot. “My, my. Look at the way you’re dripping all over my fingers. Are you enjoying this that much? The thought that someone might see how naughty you are being for me?” A whimper escaped your lips at his honeyed voice, laced with lust and hunger to see you writhing even further. His speed increases and so does your desire to scream and come undone over his fingers. Perhaps in the next moment or so…we’ll see what happens first.

“You are quite an impatient one, aren’t you?” He chuckles in a husky voice, caressing your hair as you kneel between his legs. Your hands rest on his inner thighs, eyes glazed over in desire, gawking at his cock. “You do know that the others will return soon. I don’t think they’ll be pleased seeing us doing such…acts in the parlour cabin.” He hisses when your tongue licks the tip of him, before wrapping your lips around the head to get a taste. “Well then we’d better hurry, don’t you think so, Mr.Yang?” You look up at him with a gaze so submissive, he can’t help but smile and grab your chin, parting your lips for his cock to enter your mouth again. He chokes a gasp when you immediately start sucking and bobbing your head to fit his thick cock in your mouth. Your tongue slurps and swallows every drop of his precum, the taste making you crave for the main course as well. “Ah, ah, slow down, Little One. What’s the fun if you’re going to bring me to cum so easily.” He sighs and grabs the hair on your scalp, pulling you and bringing you to a pause. “Go slow, and really savour it.”

“J-just be still and don’t make too much of a sound, okay?” Gepard stutters while fumbling with his armour, trying to release his throbbing cock from its confines. “I didn’t know you were this horny. Should have told me sooner.” You giggled, pressing your chest against the wall in a random alleyway, pulling your skirt up and shaking your bare ass at him. His eyes widened as he pumped his heavy cock a few times, before grabbing your hips and stuffing you full in a single thrust. You gasped and threw your head back against his shoulder. “I’m sorry, sorry. I haven’t had a moment alone with you in a while. Couldn’t wait.” He’d become so blinded with lust that the moment he saw you walking around while he was on patrol, he dragged you into an alleyway to sink his cock into your cunt. “Feels so good…” He kisses your neck to muffle his moans as he snaps his hips into yours, pushing you further into the wall. He grinds deeper into you, holding your thrashing body in a tight grip. “Stay still…need to cum…so bad.” But how can you stay still when his cock makes you feel so good, sending shivers through you? You’ll have to be quiet for a while, he probably won’t stop after just once.

[impider]

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[thejoyofseax]

Why We Can't Have Medieval Food

I noted in a previous post that I'd "expand on my thinking on efforts to reproduce period food and how we’re just never going to know if we have it right or not." Well, now I have 2am sleep?-never-heard-of-it insomnia, so let's go.

At the fundamental level, this is the idea that you can't step in the same river twice. You can put your foot down at the same point in space, and it'll go into water, but that's different water, and the bed of the river has inevitably changed, even a little, from the last time you did so.

Our ingredients have changed. This is not just because we can't get the fat from fat-tailed sheep in Ireland, or silphium at all anywhere, although both of those are true. But the aubergine you buy today is markedly different to the aubergine that was available even 40 years ago. You no longer need to salt aubergine slices and draw out the bitter fluids, which was necessary for pretty much all of the thing's existence before (except in those cultures that liked the bitter taste). The bitterness has been bred out of them. And the old bitter aubergine is gone. Possibly there are a few plants of it preserved in some archive garden, or a seed bank, or something, but I can't get to those.

We don't really have a good idea of the plant called worts in medieval English recipes. I mean, we know (or we're fairly sure) it was brassica oleracea. But that one species has cultivars as distinct as cabbage, broccoli, cauliflower, kale, Brussels sprouts, collard greens, Savoy cabbage, kohlrabi, and gai lan (list swiped from Wikipedia). And even within "cabbage" or "kale", you have literally dozens of varieties. If you plant the seeds from a brassica, unless you've been moderately careful with pollination, you won't get the same plant as the seeds are from. You can crossbreed brassicas just by planting them near each other and letting them flower. And of course there is no way to determine what varietal any medieval village had, a very high likelihood that it was different to the village next door, and an exceedingly high chance that that varietal no longer exists. Further, it only ever existed for a few tens of years - before it went on cross-breeding into something different. So our access to medieval worts (or indeed, cabbage, kale, etc) is just non-existant.

Some other species within the brassica genus are as varied. Brassica rapa includes oilseed rape, field mustard, turnip, Chinese cabbage, and pak choi.

We have an off-chance, as it happens, of getting almost the same kind of apple as some medieval varieties, because apples can only be reproduced for orchard use by grafting, which is essentially cloning. Identification through paintings, DNA analysis, and archaeobotany sometimes let us pin down exactly which apple was there. But the conditions under which we grow those apples are probably not the same as the medieval orchard. Were they thinned? When were they harvested? How were they stored? And apples are pretty much the best case.

Medieval wheat was practically a different plant. It was far pickier about where it would grow, and frequently produced 2-4 grains per stalk. A really good year had 6-8. In modern conditions, any wheat variety with less than 30 grains per stalk would be considered a flop.

Meats are worse. Selective breeding in the last century has absolutely and completely changed every single species of livestock, and if you follow that back another five centuries, some of them would be almost unrecognisable. Even our heritage breeds are mostly only about 200 years old.

Cheese, well. Cheese is dependent on very specific bacteria, and there are plenty of conditions where the resulting cheese is different depending on whether it was stored at the back or front of the cave. Yogurts, quarks, skyrs, etc, are also live cultures, and almost certainly vary massively. (I have a theory about British cheese here, too, which I'll expand on in a future post)

So, even before you go near the different cooking conditions (wood, burnables like camel and cow dung, smoke, the material and condition of cooking pots), we just can't say with any reliability that the food we're making now is anything like medieval people produced from the same recipe. We can't even say that with much reliability over a century.

Under very controlled conditions, you could make an argument for very specific dishes. If you track down a wild mountain sheep in Afghanistan, and use water from a local spring, and salt from some local salt mine, then you can make a case that you can produce something fairly close to the original ma wa milh, the water-and-salt stew that forms the most basic dish in Arabic cookery. But once you start introducing domestic livestock, vegetables, or even water from newer wells, you're now adrift.

It is possible that some dishes taste exactly the same, by coincidence. But we can't determine that. We can't compare the taste of a dish from five years ago, let alone five hundred, because we're only just getting to a state where we can "record" a taste accurately. Otherwise it's memory and chance.

We've got to be at peace with this. We can put in the best efforts we can, and produce things that are, in spirit, like the medieval dishes we're reading about. But that's as good as it gets.

[trappolia]

NEVER LOVE AN ANCHOR ── dan heng x gn!reader x blade, former dan feng x gen!reader x yingxing, 2.4k

you dream of blood.

the golden ichor that seeps through the jagged cracks of an old, divine blade. the deep red that drips from your wounds as a cruel reminder of your mortality, an ever existing shadow that haunts you through all the ships you travel through.

you dream of love.

a golden hairpin that catches your eye while walking through the bustling streets of a marketplace. the red paint that smudges on a lover’s lips when you exchange kisses. strokes of black ink upon parchment, reading words more poetic than one can ever have the courage to say aloud.

it is dizzying, in the way all dreams are. you are sitting under the moon and sharing a drink with someone you consider your friend, family, lover, and the next you are driving your spear through his chest. there are no blades of grass on this ship, no grassy fields for you to hide in, and the tendrils that you feel swaying, rustling, in waves past your ankles, are the chains of the sins you bear as someone they call their beloved.

the crew of the astral express are a welcome distraction, kind and warm as they offer you their companionship in their own personal ways. you help march 7th pin up photos in her room, laughing as you reminisce over your past travels through silly selfies and scenic photos. you sit with himeko during breakfast over a cup of coffee (yours brewed by yourself rather than the gorgeous redhead, thank the aeons) and indulge in the peaceful silence, a sense of normality that the woman is more than happy to give you after all that you’ve been through. mr yang tells you stories of other universes, weaving the already existing threads of all the lives you’ve seen around you into something completely different yet the same— and sometimes you can’t help but wonder if he lived a different life before all this.

but no matter what, you always find your way back to dan heng.

though you have your own assigned room, the simple arrangement of a flat pillows and a blanket on the floor of the archives is as much of a home to you as it is to dan heng. you’ve spent many a night in his room, poring over texts and books with him, more often than not passing out on his lap or in his sleeping area.

( “they come as a pair,” march 7th once told the trailblazer when they asked about the two of you. “himeko said that arrived on this ship together. whatever they went through in the past, they made it through because they had each other. but that’s just what i think.” )

it’s true, in a sense. what would you have done without dan heng, travelling through all those ships that always met the same end? you wonder if you would’ve lasted long enough for himeko to find you and bring you to the astral express.

probably not.

dan heng feels responsible for you. he doesn’t say it, but it’s obvious. you once confessed your insecurities to him on a dark night, back when the two of you were still getting used to having a proper roof above your heads without fear of the ship getting attacked or waking up to security banging through the door.

( “what if they think i’m useless because i’m always clinging onto you?” you had asked him in a small, weak voice.

“…they don’t seem like those sort of people.”

“but what if?”

dan heng had looked at you, his expression tired and soft all at once as he sighed.

“then they’ll have a problem with me too.”

“why?”

“because,” he brushed his fingers over your gaunt cheekbones, worn from all that you’d been through. “i’m just like you. if something took you from my side, then i might as very well be useless to them.” )

there’s a known truth between the two of you, one that you never speak of; but you both know that it’s a fact. if you hadn’t been involved with dan heng — with him — you’d still be at home in the xianzhou alliance. you’d be blissfully oblivious to the convict on the loose, the exile who has returned home. you’d be living your life— a normal life.

but you aren't.

instead, you dream of him.

it should be impossible. bracers are not meant to be shared between a trio, and whatever gift you had been planning to share between the three of you was lost upon the exile. and yet, even without the ancient magic of the vidyadhara, he somehow manages to make his way into your dreams, haunting you like a ghost.

some nights, you dream of those arms that had always held you with such certainty, an impenetrable shield even when bloodied and battered. other nights, you dream of those hands driving a blade through dan heng’s heart, squeezing your throat until you take your last breath through a broken windpipe.

and every night, when you wake up from those dreams in dan heng’s arms, you feel that pain welling in your chest, settling for days as it finds comfort in its new home, made up of your aching lungs and your shattered heart. the days and nights blur together like this— haunted by a man still living and breathing, though not quite human, in the nighttime, and traversing through the worlds like a ghost searching for meaning in the daytime.

you don’t remember how it ended up like this. or do you? it all feels like a dream, all the details and images blurring together to be forgotten by morning. but it isn’t morning, and you can’t wake up from this reality. your head throbs. a concussion? who cares.

you can’t afford to let your guard down on this ship you once called home. you’re here for a reason, and though that reason is your top priority, you can’t afford to be caught either. the cloud knight that found you and dan heng — sushang — doesn’t seem to recognise either of you, and neither does the strange tradesman luocha, but you still can’t take any chances. panic blossoms in your gut, unsettling as you grip your weapon in your weak hands.

ah. that’s right. you’re fighting. reason grounds you with the fuzzy memory of your enemy standing before you— an ambush, because whatever forces are at work here clearly play just as dirty as the antimatter legion and that damned aeon they serve.

a fight you can’t lose, no matter how badly your head is throbbing right now, because you still have to find the others, have to save them from— from—

“ren,” your grip on your weapon loosens as the dust clears, revealing the man standing before you.

the enemy, your brain screams, though it can’t even make you move away. the word that slips through your lips is familiar, and yet not. your head hurts thinking of calling him by his true name, the name you called him before he turned into this.

blade, is what kafka called him.

ren, is what it means in your mother tongue, the language spoken in moonlit nights as the three of you sat under the stars, the silence broken only by a whisper of their names.

the name comes out as a quiet, pathetic croak, staring wide eyed at his figure. he’s frozen just as you are, his broken blade aimed straight at you with an arm that wavers just the slightest.

it’s like a domino effect; your walls crashing down the moment you see his mask slip for the smallest moment.

“yingxing!” your voice breaks as you call out to him again, almost desperately (it does not occur to you that you've let your memory slip, called out for a man long dead). your feet are moving from under you before you even realise it.

blade lunges forward, his sword drawn.

a desperate cry of your name wretches itself out of dan heng’s throat in a way that makes your heart ache, but it’s too late now. his warning comes only seconds after you’ve begun to run straight to danger, death, a threat to your life seemingly unseen to you as you surge forward like a blind lover, but you can see him.

the sharp angles of his face, the familiar bracer on his calloused hand, the searing heat of his vermilion eyes. he’s so close— close enough to kiss, close enough to kill, close enough to be reality rather than an illusion forged by a dream.

his blade is not what meets you. instead, it’s his hand. dan heng’s panicked screams is barely audible over your hammering heartbeat, your pulse quickening as blade’s calloused fingers wrap around your throat. he’s stronger than you — you would know even if he hasn’t been haunting your dreams all those years — and so he can easily snap you in half the second you’re in his clutches.

but then you’re pressed against him, back to his front. blade pulls you as close to him as humanly possible until you’re both flush, sharing the same, saccharine oxygen after years of breathing stale air through stone lungs. despite the sharp end of a sword held over your throat, you allow yourself to close your eyes, reveling in this single moment as if you’ve lived an eternity where the three of you had never once hurt each other. though he had an eternity without a single regard to how you’d hurt each other. in these stolen moments, you let yourself be stupid, oblivious, selfish, just to breathe properly for the first time in what feels like a millennium.

“let them go,” dan heng hisses, breaking you out of your reverie.

“no,” blade’s eyes narrow. there is no mocking in his expression, no sardonic smirk or cruel taunts. his walls are still up, none of that broken emotion that you’d only seen for a split moment when your eyes first met, but he lets himself drop the bravado. between the three of you, there is no such thing.

you whisper a soft cry of his name, making dan heng’s grip tighten on cloudpiercer as he moves to snatch you out of blade’s grip, but your former lover only growls.

“come any closer, and i’ll cut them.”

his voice is scratchy, worn like the calloused hands that are wrapped around your nape, squeezing almost painfully. a distant memory flashes in your mind, of these same calloused palms washing your back after a long day, cleaning the blood and grime.

these same hands could be stained with your blood, if he so wishes.

“you won’t,” dan heng hisses, and you hear something in him break like glass shattering on the floor. “you can’t.”

he sounds so sure of it, that this man will not slice that blade over your throat and take your life just as he had taken dan heng’s in so many eternities.

you’re reminded of the fact that no matter how many times the hourglass has turned over for dan heng, no matter how muddled his memories become, he once loved this man just as you did— once relished in his presence and touch as it lulled him back to sanity, masking the weight of all the sins the three of you had committed over the lifetimes your strings of fate had been entangled.

blade moves as if to cut your throat, to finally take the first life, the first step in the nth round of this cycle of violence, but his sword only manages to press down just the slightest against the skin of your neck before he stops himself. his hand — the one adorned by that damned bracer — shakes as he glares at dan heng with a look that can kill.

“fuck,” blade mutters under his breath. the word is not meant for you, but you hear anyway. blade pulls back from you roughly, and a barely audible whimper tears out of your throat when he suddenly pushes you forward and into dan heng’s arms.

dan heng’s eyes widen, clearly just as surprised as you when blade relinquishes his hold on you. he catches you with unsteady arms, trying to keep cloudpiercer levelled at blade as if the man will suddenly lunge forward and take him from you again.

blade stares at the two of you for a moment, watching as dan heng clutches you to his chest like you’ll disappear if he let go, as you hold a palm to your neck where the thinnest line of red bleeds through. his eyes narrow, and the only other indication of emotion in his face is the slightest downturn of his lips.

“i’ll be back,” blade says, and then there’s that cruel smile on his face again, a taunting glint in his eye as he looks at dan heng. “i’ve stolen your little eternity countless times before. what’s one more to the tally?”

dan heng growls, his grip tightening on cloudpiercer, “you damned—!”

but then blade’s already making his exit, leaping off the platform in a manner that gives you deja vu.

( a memory flashes in your mind, the image of him jumping off your balcony as jing yuan knocked on your bedroom door to make sure you were still asleep while dan feng dove under your bed for cover, a mundane moment of peace and carefreeness almost forgotten from where you had pushed it deep into crevices of your mind. )

i’ve stolen your little eternity countless times before. what’s one more to the tally?

after a breathless moment that seems to drag out for an eternity, dan heng’s arms finally uncurl from your frame, his eyes tracing your figure to make sure you’re unharmed. his eyes drag over the thin cut across your neck in an adagio, his breath hitching as he sees you bleeding the same colour of blade’s eyes.

“he didn’t kill me,” you breathe out. you don’t know why it’s only settling now. the relief is clear in your tone, but it’s obvious from the violent tremor of your hands that it’s only to mask your own uncertainty. "he didn't kill me."

dan heng is quiet. you’re too scared to look at him, at the expression on his face. you just stare at your shaking hands, and watch as he rests his palm over your own to soothe the tremors.

“he always had a soft spot for you,” dan heng whispers, something breaking in the tenor of his voice.

© trappolia 2024

[idesofrevolution]

Never Sleep with Your Phone On

Throughout recorded history, humans have been terrified of the dark. They created stories of sordid creatures of the night that would creep out from beneath your bed and drag you to some subterranean lair to languish in your final moments; or slither out of your mirror if you left it uncovered when your lights were extinguished to steal your soul from your snoring lips. The tales and cryptids across all cultures were all effective in terrifying their communities once the sun set on the horizon. Though that is not necessarily to say that every tale was crafted from pure imagination.

When technology bloomed, humans believed that the horrifying superstitions of yore were long behind them. They had evolved past the primitive fears of what lurks in the shadows, where in reality they had become complacent, arrogant, and lulled. Certainly some of the eldritch creatures had subsided, as all creatures do eventually. Though for every dead legend, a new myth sprouts, and each of those grew and evolved right there along with us. Which, of course, brings us to Asher.

Asher West was, by all accounts, a fairly normal guy. Graduated from high school, going straight into college on a modest academic scholarship. He played frisbee golf with his friends on the weekends, studied hard from 9 to 5, and was seldom seen without a cup of Starbucks in the mornings. He had a sizeable social media following, as was expected for someone with a traditionally handsome visage and adequately charismatic personality. Every day he'd happily post a quick selfie, posting for his thousands of admirers a run of the mill shirtless pic, often without so much as a filter. It'd almost become muscle memory for him: tap the camera icon, snap the pic, post with some benign emojis as the caption, and boom. 900 likes as the day meandered on. Did it provide him with a momentary burst of endorphins? Yes. Was it satisfying? Somewhat, at least he thought so. Years of his staggeringly average life had been all but usurped by this second life online, where he was glamorous, exciting, and adored.

It was so much easier to live in that fantasyland than to truly be present in the real world around him. He, as many of us are, was living his life as someone else- and a life that spectacled easily caught attention. It was easy to come across him in the sea of countless names and faces. It was easy to stumble upon that pretty face. It was easy find, attracting more than just starry eyed fans. Skulking in the void between lines of 1 and 0, buried deep in the infinite cosmic vacuum of the world electric and technological, another pair of eyes would befall him.

It had slinked into his vast sphere rather quickly, and it had begun to watch. Watching each and every 'tasteful' selfie, every vapid thought that he'd post, and every like and pin he'd make, it watched him with empty, expressionless black eyes from within a fragment of his phone's memory. It studied him, curious at first. Things of its nature were always curious, always inclined to watch and analyze and replicate. Even as he slept, his phone siphoning it's charge from it's cable, it would read. The more it saw, the more it had learned about Asher. In fact, it knew more of Asher than perhaps he himself was aware of, if not able to admit.

It had seen those intimate moments he'd taken careful measure to hide from the vast majority of those watching eyes. Second accounts under pseudonyms, gave way to countless of hidden alternate lives he lived: Tumblr blogs dedicated to bad-boy thrist traps and queer erotica, Twitter accounts cataloguing pictures and videos of his closest kept kinks, a well used and well loved Chaturbate account with his face tastefully cropped out of frame... all these lives immortalized in the endless archives of the internet. And after all it's patient watching, all the hours of analyzing, all the months of consuming his information, it had grown an attachment.

Asher had come home late one night. Not unusual for him, as the occasional party wouldn't derail his real life ambitions. After a few libations, and no small amount of cannabis, he'd made his way back home to his small apartment above the corner store. Just as he'd done numerous times before, he stripped himself of his shirt, pulling his camera from his jeans pocket, and snapped a slightly inebriated picture of himself. It'd be enough to boost his ego the next morning, enough to power through the long haul of his draining daily agenda.

SNAP. The flash of the camera went off, and his beloved face was shared for all to see. Though, that night, he mis stepped. Perhaps it was the booze, perhaps it was the toke, perhaps he was simply too tired to notice that he'd left the screen on. By the time he'd hit the bed he was out like a rock, collapsed onto the bed and quietly drifting to sleep. There on the brightly lit screen, in the darkness of the unlit bedroom, it saw its opportunity.

From it's perch on the nightstand, the phone began to spark. Small sparks at first, a quick fizzle and quiet pop. Then more: louder, brighter, faster. It began to rumble against the wooden tabletop, sizzling and sparkling as it danced before the screen went black and dead. Slowly, electric crackling gave way to a bubbling sludge. The glass subtly started wave and bellow, as if it were liquified, not taking long to begin to spill over the edges of it's metal frame. The black sludge fell like oil onto the hardwood floors, collecting in a growing, bubbling pool.

From the primordial ooze burst forth a long, slender arm; it's taloned fingers scraping as it braced itself on the ground. A second arm clawed it's way out, and with an echoing slosh, it had begun to pull itself out of the sludge. It's long, emaciated torso and thick muscled legs had slithered out, landing on two massive, clawed feet. It towered above Asher's bed as he slumbered, bent over so as not to hit it's back onto the eight foot ceiling. It stood there, looking at the person it'd observed and studied for so long. The image presented in the world it'd pried himself out of was nothing of what lay before it. From what it had gathered from his more clandestine dealings, it had noted that he was far from the archetypes he'd collected on Asher's behalf.

He did not have the tattoos like those he'd pinned on Pinterest. He was not wearing the dark, heavy clothes like those he'd saved on Instagram. He wasn't well endowed like the video's he'd favorited on X-Tube. He didn't give off the aura of some rebellious casanova like the stories he'd reblogged on Tumblr. To a creature of symmetry and consistency, this was an error to be corrected; a dichotomy requiring integration.

It crouched down above his drooling maw, gently caressing his head to face it's clenching claw. The talons pressed ever so tenderly past his lips and over his tongue, becoming the very black ooze it had crawled out of once more. It flooded down his throat as it's second arm made it's way into his mouth, as if it were being sucked into Asher. He was drinking it's essence, it's aqueous body slurping down into his core. It's torso compressed as it wriggled down his gullet, ringing out splashing squelches as Asher gargled it down.

As quickly as it had entered, it's long legs slithered into his mouth, leaving only its large feet thrashing about in the air. Asher's stomach was bubbling and undulating under the sheer pressure from this invasion, growing to a large gut spilling over the waistband of his jeans. One loud slurp and a crisp pop, and the feet slipped into him, leaving his writhing body squirming on the bed. It expanded within him, incorporating itself into every fibre of his being. Pressing into his arms, his legs, pushing up his throat until it met the top of his palate. The pressure began to mount, black goo dribbling down the corners of his mouth, until a wet crack sounded in his cavernous head, and it flowed into his skull.

It took mere seconds for it to reach his brain, which it flowed freely into throughout the grooves and nooks. Entirely coated, imbued and inoculated with it, the deed was done. Asher opened his eyes, tiredly sitting up in his bed. He looked over at his phone, tapping it with his finger: 3 AM.

At first it seemed like a nightmare. He could recall moments here and there, though the majority of his 'dream' was a blur. From what he could remember, it was nothing visual he could recollect... but it he could recollect the sensations. Wet, slimy, invasive, and cold- much like he felt drunkenly sleeping in his cold sweat. He brought himself to his feet, dragging his feet on the slippery floorboards to his bathroom.

Flipping the switch, the harsh fluorescent light flickered to life above him, as he turned the nozzle on his shower. Immediately, his jaw nearly dropped to the floor. In the mirror, Asher finally caught a glimpse of himself: strange black bruises and undulating bumps were scattered across his body. That pristine, smooth skin was now covered in sprawling web-like lesions from head to toe. He had mere moments to process the horror reflected in front of him before an immediate pain in the gut had him doubled over the counter.

His stomach started to bubble and groan, and through the foggy haze of his blurred vision he saw his feet begin to ripple and swell. He could feel the slick sweaty soles slide across the tile floor as they expanded and grew. As they reached a substantial size 13, the swelling crept it's way up his calves and into his thighs. Asher wobbled on his feet, as if they were filled with gelatin beneath his slippery skin while his knees began to buckle. He collapsed into a crouch, the fumes of sweaty footmusk bellowing up to his nostrils as his legs cracked and stretched above. He'd never truly experienced scentplay as he'd so dearly fantasized about throughout countless hours of edging to such content, nor had this funk ever emanated from his own soles. In the moment, he felt something within him prod into his brain. As if poking the individual folds of his cerebrum with thousands of tiny needles, causing cascades of thoughts to enter his mind- all of which telling him to embrace. In his mind's eye, he could see himself burying his face into his sweaty sole, between his long toes, lapping up every droplet of sweat that was spewing from his pores. The thought was buried deep in his subconscious, pried out with expert measure, by something now within him.

Grasping for anything to steady himself on, Asher gripped the edge of the sink, pulling himself upright once again and now towering above the countertop. He hung his aching head low, watching with strange newfound fervor as his cock began to feel heavier and heavier. Drool started to drip from the bottom of his lip, landing square onto the lengthening shaft. Like a sandbag, his balls dropped and swelled while he got harder and harder. Another onslaught of pinpricks in his head brought forth another command: stroke.

Steam started build in the bathroom as the hot water continued to fall from the shower, intensifying the scent wafting from now both his feet and his pendulous sac. Each breath of hot, wet musk hit like ecstasy, and with bated breath, he softly grasped ahold of his python and began to pump. Each knead of his engorged member was accompanied by a change. His fingers grew long and sinewy, smooth and slick with precum. His arms remained thin but toned, growing longer and packed with lean muscle. His torso lengthened, topped off with a firm pair of pecs above his sinewy abdomen.

As pressure began to build in his balls, his mind began to feel the needles one last time, imbuing his brain with one last injection of a single trait: pride. He didn't need the approval of anyone else, he was aware of how fucking hot he was. He didn't need to heed the rules that society had straddled him with, he always forged his own path. He had no fears of recompense for his attitude, his ego, his spirit- the world would either stand with him, or he would step on top of them. Either way, what bliss. As the last of his inhibitions and fears had gathered in his groin, he cried out in elation as he erupted. Rope after rope of black sludge shot from his cannon, washing him with a sense of relief he'd never before known. He released his grip on his softening cock, hanging at an obscene eleven inches. He smirked at the sludge coating his mirror and pooling beneath his toes. A sight like that would have shocked and terrified the old Asher, though as he stood before his reflection, devoid of any tension, he relented to the entity within him. It had delivered onto him a new self, a new image, a new viewpoint. As tattoos both vulgar and delicate began to sprawl across his skin, he happily admired his new likeness.

The entity had bestowed a gift to him; throughout the horror, throughout the fear, he was becoming the true Asher that had only ever peeked out from the abyss of his psyche. He leered, bringing his thumb and middle finger together before snapping loudly. From his pores, the black sludge began to spill across his body until he was nearly covered from the neck down in what appeared to be a rubber suit before it began to become a bit more defined. A plain white tee shirt, classically fashioned with a black and white varsity jacket from his college. Skinny, weathered black jeans barely containing his sizeable commando bulge beneath it's thin fabric. On his feet, a pair of white socks and tightly tied high top Chucks, quelling the ripe stink of his soles within the sneaker for some sub to pry off and enjoy.

He grinned, posing and modeling for himself, before he finally turned off the steaming water. After the long, arduous, painful process, the entity had incorporated itself entirely within him- now completely indistinguishable from parasitic to symbiotic. It had rewritten him, completely remade him in the likeness of who he had shown the vast virtual world. There was no cognitive dissonance, there were no lies, there was no deception. All that remained was the Asher he had created in his fantasy, now ready to fuck the real world and all within it.

Thus, as our creature feature comes to an end, I leave you with a modicum of friendly advice. Don't leave your phone on as you slumber, for those that are watching, those that are waiting, those that have been learning are a mere sheet of glass away from finding their way inside. Take my counsel, or ignore it. But do so knowing the outcome, and whether or not you are prepared to weather such a storm.

[mournstera]

Mauve — a responsive, single-column theme

This is a single-column Tumblr theme with a left sidebar and a body font family of your choosing (Google font). Optional dark mode, search bar, and update tab included. Full support of npf posts. You agree to my terms of use by using this theme.

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