#(What you create adds more beauty to the world itself)

[yukikorogashi]

   Remember my friends, there are always going to be a bunch of haters and naysayers out there. And even if you also receive love and support from the other side, the former just LOVES having the stronger grip over you. Love knowing that what they say and think of you, ends up affecting you way more than the love and belief that you get from others. Making you think that you have nothing... that you, are nothing.

   I need to start by saying that I know I’m not one of the greatest and most talented artists/designers out there, and know that I have a long, long way to go (And yeah, I welcome that journey, and of course look forward to learning more, and to continue improving!). But more importantly... getting here has NEVER EVER BEEN EASY in the first place. I am indeed progressing and am indeed reaching those dream goals of mine, but not without tripping over more than one obstacle everyday.

   I have had lots of people laughed and looked down on me over the years, all from different age groups, areas of expertise, etc. People from other occupations laughing that I wanted to work in this area, instead of studying for a “real job”. One of my own art teachers even flinging my final year project down to the ground, and nearly even stomping her foot down on it, before storming right out (She was having a bad day, but it still wasn’t right for her to personally take it out on my art at the time). People that just... never took me and my skills seriously, but still think it was perfectly okay to take advantage of me and treat me like shit (Like my first supposedly real job out of college, that I was abused at for nearly a year, and only got paid $1000, that I was told I was even lucky to receive, in the first place).

   And don’t get me started on how after drawing for decades now (Ever since I was born), I’m still hardly noticed on any of my Social accounts for my art to this very day. But, you know what? That sort of thing doesn’t matter that much to me these days... especially when all the clients I have worked with up to this point, are people that I personally reach out to through emails and stuff. Granted, it took a lot of time, but I am happy to say that I have mostly (MOSTLY) grown out of my self-hating phase. Because constantly tearing myself down, especially when it comes to anything I achieve, is just not the way to go, my guys. 💦 

   ... And also, I will say that I am really lucky that I can share anything I create with a few very, very close pals, my dear friends who are always nothing but excited and supportive of me... Besides learning to hate myself less (And love myself more), I have learned that these are the people matter so much more, the people I should be tuning my hearing aid to. 

   So yeah, this goes back to one of my past posts, about being KINDER TO YOURSELF. About actually seeing and accepting that you truly are PROGRESSING, no matter how slow it may seem at times. Be prouder of yourself, GDI! Why are you spitting down on yourself, for actually putting in those attempts??? For actually TRYING? You are actually working so much harder than you realise!

   But yeah... I am still drawing, despite all of that. I am still doing what I do, because...

   I fucking love what I do, so, so much. Despite how hard it is (AND GOD IT IS HARD, DRAWING IS HARD, LOL!), despite how much I have to deal with, up to this very day. Despite how many times I have to survive on a few pennies, during some extra though periods... And this effort and perseverance has gotten me to FINALLY work with clients in time. And I hope to work with more in due time, as I continue down this path...

   Anyway, don’t stop. DON’T YOU. EVER. STOP. When it comes to doing what you love. Get back up, ALWAYS GET BACK UP, whenever those folks try to trip you over. 

   And make sure you start listening to the folks that are actually CHEERING YOU ON, including yourself. Swing all that LOVE in your heart for that thing like a pillow and smack those haters in the face with it, before continuing your way towards your goals!

[spectorgram]

the letter

theodore nott x f! reader summary: you get a letter from a secret admirer who wants to confess. your best friend is none too pleased. notes: jealous! theodore nott >>> word count: 1.4k

You would think for a magical school, Hogwarts would have better heating or some heating spell, but the Slytherin dorms are frigid as usual as winter creeps up. You fasten your robe clasps and draw it tighter around you, simultaneously trying to tug your skirt down in a futile way to heat yourself up more. Your knee-high socks only do so much and you pretty much give up on the endeavor as you climb up the stairs and head for the Great Hall. 

You’re immediately greeted by the cozy warmth of the hall, spotting your friends, all swathed in green and silver robes and knits. Theo spots you first, sliding over and nearly knocking Blaise off the bench. “Blood hell, mate,” Blaise grumbles as you approach, kicking Theo’s leg lightly. 

You slip into the space created for you, right in between Theo and Enzo. You stifle a yawn and ask, “Can someone pass the eggs and bacon?”

As Enzo reaches for both platters, Theo’s eyes zero in on your legs. “How are you not cold?”

You frown. “I am,” you reply, piling your breakfast onto your plate, “but Pansy’s demon cat apparently thought my winter tights were toys and decided to scratch them all up.”

Pansy sighs, “I’ve ordered you new ones, calm down.” 

Theo drapes his robe over your legs and you smile gratefully at him. He smiles back and your heart flips. You don’t think you’ll ever get over how beautiful he is — all dark caramel curls and long lashes that frame those devastatingly blue eyes. He’s been your best friend since you started Hogwarts and you knew you loved him at first sight. The longer you’ve known him, the more you’ve fallen for him. 

It’s a tale as old as the world itself: you’re hopelessly in love with your best friend but you value your friendship far too much to do anything to jeopardize it.

“Mail’s here,” you hear someone say down the table. You look up to the ceiling, which has been enchanted to look like a sky that’s about to break open and drop snowflakes from its clouds. Owls soar in through the openings at the top of the walls, diving down towards their intended recipients. 

“Maybe your new tights are here,” Enzo says. 

Pansy adds, “I hope so. Then you’ll stop complaining about it.”

You snort, reaching up to grab a letter dropped by your family owl. You feed her a piece of scrambled egg as she takes off back towards the owlery. You tuck your parents’ letter into the inner pocket of your robe just as another owl swoops overhead, dropping a pale blue envelope on your lap. 

“Who’s that from?” asks Pansy. 

You shrug, using your butter knife to open it up. As you do, Draco grumbles at Mattheo: “For the love of Salazar, stop hogging the pastry basket.”

You skim over the letter addressed to you. You tilt your head in confusion and Blaise asks, “What’s it say?”

Enzo peeks over your shoulder and his face breaks into a smirk. “‘Meet me at the Astronomy Tower at midnight tonight. Signed, Your Secret Admirer.’” he reads.

“What?” Theo suddenly snatches the letter from your hand. You watch in confusion as his eyes dart back and forth. His shoulders tense and his mouth purses into a thin, hard line. 

“You doing okay there, Nott?” Matthew asks, shooting a simpering smile at his friend. Theo sends a glare back but doesn’t say anything, the letter’s paper crinkling under his grip. 

Pansy asks, “Are you going to go?”

You hesitate, surreptitiously glancing at Theo, startled to find that he’s gazing at you with an intensity you’ve never experienced. You pluck the letter from him and fold it neatly. “I think so,” you say. “I’m interested to see who it is.”

“Be sure to bring your wand,” Draco says. “Just in case.”

“Obviously,” you deadpan. The conversation shifts into whether anyone was prepared for midterms coming up. 

You fiddle with the letter in your lap. Theo’s silent for the whole conversation. 

You chew on your bottom lip as you reread the same sentence in your textbook for what feels like the hundredth time. The letter has stuck in your head the whole day. It crosses your mind that it could be a prank or a set-up — it’s not a secret that Slytherin isn’t the most popular House among your classmates — but you know you can handle yourself. You’re more worried about how Theo was acting at breakfast. He didn’t say a word the rest of the meal, not even when Enzo and Mattheo tried looping him into the conversation. He just sat there, sullen and gloomy, and his mood seemed to worsen more when you handed him his robe back and said you had to get to class.

You sigh heavily, trying to play out every possible scenario that could happen between you and the letter writer. You check the clock in the library: 11:45; you need to head over to the Astronomy Tower. 

You groan, gathering your things, sliding them into your bag, and making your way back to the Slytherin common room to drop off your things in your dorm. “Cacophony,” you supply to the portrait, which swings open to let you in.

The common room is blissfully silent when you enter, a welcome contrast to the mess of thoughts in your head. You’re about to head down the hall to your dorm when you collide against someone. You huff an apology but when you feel their hand on your shoulder, you look up to see Theo. He looks intense, eyes wide and glinting with sharp determination and his mouth still set in that frown from earlier. “Sorry, Theo,” you say. “Didn’t see you there. Where are you going at this hour?”

“I was going to find you,” he replies. 

“Oh,” you say. “Well, here I am. Sorry, I’ve got to drop this stuff off and then—”

“Head to the Astronomy Tower,” he finishes for you, “to meet your ‘secret admirer.’” 

You don’t like the way he sneers at the last part of his sentence or the way he uses air quotations. You’re about to respond when he says, “Don’t go.”

“What?”

“Don’t go,” he repeats.

“Why not?”

He pauses before saying, “What if it’s someone just having a laugh?”

You bristle, hurt, and you feel your temper flare. “Is it so damn hard to believe that someone might actually have a crush on me?”

Theo laughs, razor-sharp and incredulous, as if he can’t believe that you’re saying something so outrageous, “No, it’s not.”

“Then why shouldn’t I go?”

“Because I don’t want you to!”

“For Salazar’s sake, Theo, you can’t tell me what to do!”

“I know that!”

“Then are you trying to tell me not to go?”

“Because I bloody like you!”

Your heart stutters to a stop. You can only hear the sounds of both of your labored breathing and you suddenly can’t meet his eyes, trying your best to wrap your head around the fact that your feelings are reciprocated. “How long?’ you ask softly, holding your breath.

“Since first year.”

You blink. “Really?”

He rakes a hand through his hair and sighs heavily, “Mattheo’s right; you’re so oblivious.” There’s another beat of silence and he asks, a little shyly, “How do you feel?”

You can’t stop the smile that spreads across your face. “I like you too, Theo. I’ve liked you since first year as well.”

He echoes your “Really?” and it makes you giggle, “I guess we’re both oblivious.”

He joins your laughter and you let your forehead rest on his chest as your shoulders shake. When it dies down, Theo shifts you off him and lifts your chin with his forefinger, any semblance of coyness gone. You gaze into his ocean blue eyes. Salazar, you could drown in them. He offers a charming smile and he leans close, just a few centimeters away, and says, “Can I kiss you?”

Your eyelashes flutter and your voice comes out barely louder than a whisper, “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

Your lips meet, fervent and desperate, years of yearning releasing like water through a broken dam. Theo hooks his arms around your waist, pulling you as close as possible. You wind your arms around his neck, fingers toying with the hair at his nape. He walks you backward, slipping his tongue into mouth as he crushes you up against the wall. He deepens the kiss and your knees go weak. 

Theo moves your bag off your shoulder and drops it on the floor. The letter that rested at the top of the pile of possessions falls out, laying forgotten on the ground.

[msmk11]

Best Friend's Mom Part Four

MILF!Wanda Maximoff x college age!fem!reader (Billy and Tommy's best friend)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Word count: 5.5k

CW: Age gap (legal), best friends' mom, MILF!Wanda, fluff, mentions of food, angst, smut, cursing

Summary: You've finally confessed your feelings to Wanda. Will she reciprocate them? If so, what happens next? And what'll happen if she rejects you? Anything could happen.

A/n: Fourth and FINAL part is here! (I lowkey wrote most of this today so I hope it's good lol!) Anywho, I'd just like to thank y'all for loving this story as much as I have. And, if you're sad that it's over, never fear! Because of all your love and support, I've decided to do something special that you can check out here. Happy reading!

“Well, do you?”

The question hangs in the air between you and time has completely stopped. You hold your breath and your heart beats so rapidly in your chest that you’re certain Wanda can hear it. 

Your instincts tell you to run, to avoid what you fear most.

Rejection. 

But for once, you’re brave. You stay put and hold eye contact with Wanda. It’s her that breaks first. 

“My simple answer is yes.”

All of the air rushes back into your lungs and you dispel a long sigh of relief.

“But,” she adds, “I’m hesitant to say anything else because we both know that nothing about this situation is simple.”

You nod, and this time your sigh is a little more dejected. 

“Yeah, I know.”

You pull your knees up to your chest and wrap your arms around your legs, “It sucks. This whole situation is shitty. If only you weren’t my best friends’ mom, and I wasn’t in college, and we didn’t have to hide.”

The silence is thick, weighty with the words left unsaid- the words that neither of you want to vocalize. To vocalize them would be to admit to reality, and the small glimmer of hope still left would be shattered. To put it all into words would also force you to call this thing between you and Wanda what it is- a fling. A word that, right now, disgusts you to your core. A fling- the concept and word itself so casual when nothing about what’s happened between you two has been casual at all. You and Wanda had not casually fucked, casually cuddled, or casually made out. In every interaction with Wanda, there was always something deeper simmering just below the surface. There was an understanding of each other’s lives and struggles, tenderness, only found in a familiarity by association, and a deep love for each other, not even in the romantic sense, though you guess a hint of that existed as well, but in a sense of gratitude. Your shared compassion for the twins, and the undoubted affect you’d each had on them brought you two together in an indescribable way. Though you hadn’t known it yet, you and Wanda’s souls had been intertwined by destiny, forever attached by the two who brought you together in the first place. 

Therefore, to treat this connection between you two as so much less than it deserves makes you not just just angry or sad but bitter. Nothing about it is fair. You deserve more, sure, but it’s Wanda that deserves everything good. After all that she’s been through, she’s maintained a heart of gold, and your heart aches to know the pain she’s being put through yet again.

But you can’t hide forever, and Wanda finally admits what you can’t. Won’t. 

“I think,” Wanda says, hesitating, “that we have to accept that this is as good as it gets.”

It stings, Wanda’s confession, the truth smacking you square in the face. Housed within these walls is a beautiful utopia that you and Wanda have escaped to. It’s been sweet, and raw, and vulnerable, and now it’s all crumbling down. In no world would you and Wanda ever have been able to be together in the way you both wanted. There were the boys to think of, and your future, and the life Wanda had created for herself. Neither of you wanted to risk the happiness of the other for a potential shared happiness. 

“I’m afraid that if we tried to continue what we have going now, everything would fall apart, and I’d come to resent you. And I don’t want that, Detka. For me, or you, or Billy and Tommy,” Wanda adds softly, “So let’s just enjoy this while we have it, and make the most of our time left.”

Tears sting your eyes and so much pressure has built in your throat that you can’t speak. You only nod at Wanda and her gaze, somehow, softens even more. 

“Baby,” she whispers hoarsely. In seconds she’s pulled you into her arms, wrapping you so tightly in her warm embrace that you couldn’t move even if you wanted to. You nuzzle your face into her neck and try to take deep breaths, hoping that her scent will calm the raging storm in your head. She rocks the two of you back and forth slowly, and you can’t tell if it’s more for her or for you. 

“Wanda,” you call out, and your voice cracks pitifully.

“Shhh, don’t” the redhead answers, her voice similarly thick with emotion. 

You bury your hands in her shirt and grip it tightly, trying to hold on to something when everything else around you is slipping away. Despite your best efforts, you can’t stop the sob that racks your body. 

Wanda doesn’t say anything, she just presses a tender kiss to your head. And when you feel a few teardrops fall onto your hair, you don’t mention it. 

“I know it’d be hard, but what do you think about pretending, for just a little longer? I mean, we’ve been doing it this long, so what’s one more day?” she murmurs into your hair. 

You pull away a little, craning your neck up towards Wanda with wide, tear-brimmed eyes, “Yeah, yes. Please. I’d really like that.”

She smiles fondly at you, “Good. Now let’s wipe away these tears.”

She ever so gently untangles an arm from around you and thumbs away the residual wetness on your cheeks, “There we go, all better.”

Her hand traces down your cheek and cups your jaw. She pulls you in and places a tender kiss to your lips. It’s sweet and tastes a little of the salty tears you’d both just shed. Instead of the hot spark that usually shoots through your body when you kiss Wanda, an overall warmth spreads through your body from your head all the way down to your toes. It makes your stomach ache, not with sadness but rather an all consuming happiness. You’re sure that any moment you’ll burst into a kaleidoscope of butterflies. 

*****

The last day and a half of your spring break trip is bittersweet. Though you try to stay present, any time Wanda is around you can’t help but think about how each interaction with her may be your last- your last kiss, your last secret glance, or your last inside joke. To know that the end of something is coming before it ever actually happens is maddening, and you swear that you can hear a clock slowly ticking down to zero as each minute passes. Around the boys especially you don a mask of joviality even though internally you’re floundering. As you go about your day there’s a perpetual ache in your chest and a lump that never seems to leave your throat. 

Maybe it’s because you’re desperate to slow down, or maybe it’s because you’re so caught up in your head that it passes quickly, but before you know it, time has slipped through your fingers and it’s already Friday evening. It’s late, and the boys are off in their room packing their bags. Desperate to hold on to the last little bit of your trip left, you decide to leave the packing for tomorrow morning and instead lay on the couch listlessly scrolling through channels on tv. You can’t help wondering where Wanda has wandered off to, but you know that if you go looking for her, you’ll only end up in a puddle of tears. 

At some point in your scrolling you end up on an old sitcom- The Dick Van Dyke Show. You’ve never really watched it before, but something about it instantly catches your attention. The simplicity and domesticity of it all soothes you and your brain finally begins to quiet down. 

“Did you know that was my favorite show as a kid?” 

You look up at Wanda in her long gray tee shirt and leggings, hair pulled back into a low pony, “Really?”

She joins you, sitting on the arm of the couch, “Mhmm. When things would get bad back home in Sokovia, my mom and dad would always put on old sitcom tapes to distract my brother and I. I liked all the ones they showed me, but The Dick Van Dyke Show was always my favorite. Still is.”

A warm smile graces Wanda’s pretty features as she reminisces to you about her childhood and your heart feels so full that she’s chosen to share parts of herself with you. 

“I’ve actually never seen it,” you say, “but I just came across it now, and I instantly felt…”

“Calmer?”

“Mhmm.”

You both silently watch the show for a few minutes, and though you’re tempted, you don’t once glance at Wanda. It’s a true demonstration of your willpower because Wanda is so, so tempting. You desperately wish to pull her closer, to hold her, touch her, and kiss her. But if you let yourself give in, you’re not sure you’ll be able to stop. Being around Wanda is addicting and you long to taste her over and over again, to get drunk on her, even if you’re bound to waste away after. 

You’re so lost in your own head that you don’t notice Wanda slowly slipping off the arm of the couch onto the seat next to you. It’s only when she basically crawls into your lap that you look away from the tv, startled. She’s on her knees, legs tucked beneath her, and she rests her hands on your thighs. Her face is so incredibly close to yours that with even the slightest movement, your lips would touch.

Her green eyes search yours intently, “Detka, I was thinking…”

She pauses, and you can’t help but quickly peck her lips to encourage her to keep talking. The embarrassed smile that forms on her face also makes you scream internally. 

“I’d really like to take you out on a date, baby. Just one. Before everything… ends.”

You squeal quietly and jump onto her, knocking her backwards onto the couch. You pepper kisses all over her face and she grabs your hips, giggling quietly. 

“I’ll take that as a yes?”

“Oh my god Wanda, duh!”

And then more quietly and seriously you say, “I’d really, really like that.”

A hand moves from your waist to the back of your head and she guides you to her lips, kissing you sweetly. You suck gently on her bottom lip and try to ingrain into your mind the pretty little sighs she releases. When you pull away, you watch as her long eyelashes flutter open and admire the soft look in her green eyes. 

She squeezes your side playfully, “let’s go Detka, we have a date to go on.”

You sit back on your heels to give Wanda room to sit up, “where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise. Now go get your shoes.”

You obey her immediately, plopping down onto the hardwood and slipping on your tennis shoes. When you’re ready to go, she grabs her keys off the kitchen table and quietly ushers you out to her small black sedan. You’ve yet to ride in Wanda’s car, the boys usually driving, and it’s nice. With black leather seats and wood trimming, you feel like you’re living in luxury. The car, somehow, smells like her too, and you feel blissfully pampered and mindless strapped into the passenger seat of her car. 

She starts the car and rolls down the windows. You pull out of the driveway and speed off down the coastal highway, the radio softly playing in the background. The air is warm, but the wind is cool on your skin and you can smell the salt in the air. Your hair whips around wildly in the breeze, and you know that it’ll look a mess the rest of the night, but you can’t find it in you to care. Though you still have no idea where Wanda is taking you, by the direction you’re going you can at least guess that it’ll be somewhere in town.

While you’d be happy to go anywhere with Wanda, you’re extra thrilled when she pulls up to the local ice cream shop. Your sweet tooth aches with excitement and you quickly unbuckle your seatbelt. You go to open your door but Wanda reaches out to stop you, “Wait! I wanna get it for you.”

Heat rises to your cheeks and you’re so awestruck by how sweet and wonderful she is. She hops out of the car and comes around to your side, opening the door for you. When you climb out you give her a peck on the cheek, “what a lady you are, Wanda. I guess chivalry isn’t dead.”

The redhead wraps her arm around your waist and tucks you into her side. It’s the most public you two have ever been and the thrill secretly excites you. 

She presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, “You deserve only the best, Detka. I hope you always know that.”

She’s being too sweet to you, and it’s making you all shy, so you tuck your head further into her side to hide your face. She chuckles lightly and squeezes your waist, guiding you two over to the counter to order. 

Wanda orders two scoops of strawberry ice cream in a cup and you do the same, though with chocolate ice cream. All of the seating at the shop is outdoors, so you two find a table off to the side in a secluded corner. You cuddle up on one bench, legs tangled together and shoulders touching. The treat is sweet on your tongue and you moan softly at the taste.

“Good?” Wanda asks in between bites of her own ice cream.

You nod, “Very. Yours?”

She scoops a bit of the ice cream onto her spoon and lifts it towards you, “try?”

You eagerly accept her invitation and wrap your lips around the spoon. It’s tangier than your chocolate, but still good. You swirl it around your tongue, savoring the flavor as Wanda watches you with curious eyes.

“Mhmm, I like that too. Still prefer mine though,” you say with a small smile. 

“Well good, because you’re not getting any more of mine anyways,” the redhead answers with a wink. 

You roll your eyes teasingly and happily take another bite of your own ice cream.

“Oh, wait? Do you want to try mine?”

Before you can offer Wanda a spoonful of the chocolate, she reaches out and swipes her thumb across your lips. When she pulls away there’s a little chocolate on her skin and she slowly sucks it off, “Mhmm, tastes good, baby.”

This alone causes your brain to turn to mush and so you just stare at her, lips slightly parted and cheeks flushed. 

Wanda doesn’t attempt to hide her smirk at your dumbfounded expression, “love when you get all dazed and pretty like this, Detka.”

Your gaze drops to your ice cream and you mumble about how she’s a tease. 

She lifts your chin so that you look at her again, “You know you love it.”

“Not when we’re in public!”

Wanda hesitates for a moment, the wheels in her brain turning, before she asks, “wanna go make strawberry-chocolate ice cream in the car?”

*****

You're outside the door to the house and you and Wanda are giggling like schoolgirls as she fumbles with the keys. 

“Shhh, Wanda, be careful. We don’t want to get caught!”

“Sorry, I just can’t get my hands to work,” she answers, giggling again. 

You grab her hands and still them, looking at her gently, “here, let me do it.”

You take the keys from her and easily insert it into the lock. It clicks open softly and you motion for Wanda to go inside first, you following close behind her. Wanda stands by the door slipping off her shoes and grabs your shoulder as she nearly falls over. You grab her waist, steadying her, “careful, love.”

She smiles at you sheepishly while she casts her other shoe aside and you take a moment to admire her windblown cheeks and messy hair. You brush a strand behind her ear and her eyes flutter close at your touch.

“What the hell are you two doing?”

You and Wanda freeze, and a rock settles in your stomach. When you turn around, there stands Billy and Tommy in the living room, mixed expressions of confusion, anger, disbelief and betrayal written all over their faces. 

“Guys, it’s-” you begin, your voice shaking.

“Not what it looks like?” Billy scoffs, “because it looks like you can’t keep your hands off my mom.”

“Billy, wait,”

“Tell us what the fuck is going on right now,” Tommy interrupts. 

You barely spare Wanda a glance as you make your way into the living room. She hesitantly follows behind you. 

“Uhm me and Wan- your mom- we’ve been…” 

What are you supposed to call this thing you and Wanda have been doing?

“Seeing each other,” she finishes. 

Billy eyes you two’s disheveled appearances with disgust, “seems more like you’ve been fucking each other!”

“Billy!” Wanda says sharply.

“What, Mom? I’m gonna call it as I see it, since you two don’t seem inclined to tell the truth.”

You can already feel your lip beginning to quiver but you ignore it, “That’s not fair. Please, just listen for a second.”

“Not fair?!” Tommy protests, “What I think is unfair is that my mom and best friend have been lying to my face so that they can sneak around and fuck. I mean, god. That’s disgusting. Mom- she’s our best friend and you,” he points his finger aggressively towards you, “going after our mom? That’s really fucking shitty.”

A tear unwillingly escapes your eye, “But it wasn’t- it’s not like that. I didn’t intend for it to happen. It just did.”

“So you just fell into each other’s beds?” Billy asks, sarcasm thick in his voice. 

“That’s not what she means, Billy,” Wanda answers solemnly. 

“What she means is that it all just happened so suddenly, so organically. We were just drawn to each other, and that’s not in our control.”

“But your actions are. You could’ve resisted. Instead, you were selfish.” 

You’re entirely sympathetic to the twins’ pain and anger. This comment, however, riles you from your sorrowful stupor. 

“Selfish? You’re calling us selfish? You don’t even know what you’re talking about, Billy! Wanda and I have done nothing but think about you both the entire time. You want to know what we did yesterday? We decided to completely end things after this trip because we wanted to protect you two from our dumb decisions. Wanda and I agreed that even though we both have feelings for each other, your lives and feelings are far more important. This is one of the first really good things that’s happened to both of us in a really long time, and we gave it up for you. So you can sit here and call us stupid, or liars, or traitors, but don’t sit here and call us selfish.”

After your outburst, the room goes completely and utterly silent. Your panting hard and your hands are shaking as you watch so many emotions play out on your best friends’ faces. You glance at Wanda and the sight before you breaks your heart. At this moment, she looks so totally and utterly miserable. Silent tears are streaming down her face and her eyes dart anxiously between her two boys. Guilt pools in your stomach and you can’t help but feel that everything is your fault. Had you never been a part of their lives, nothing would be ruined and Wanda, Billy, and Tommy could’ve been a perfect, happy little family.

You sigh heavily and look at the three people you care about most, “Look, I’m sorry. I-”

“Just, stop talking,” Tommy says, interrupting you again, though this time his voice is a little less harsh.

“You, you said that you have feelings for my mom?”

“Yeah, yeah” you answer, vigorously nodding, “I care about her so much.”

Billy looks at Wanda hesitantly, “And you feel the same way?”

Although she’d just confessed her feelings yesterday, a small part of you fears that she’s changed her mind, or maybe even lied. You chew on your lip anxiously, awaiting her response with bated breath. 

Instead of answering Billy and Tommy directly, she turns and looks straight at you, “Yes. I’ve never been more certain about anything in my life.”

You know your eyes are shining thick with tears and you give her a great big wobbly smile. 

Billy sighs, rubbing his face roughly, “And you make each other happy?”

Simultaneously you and Wanda answer yes. 

“Then who are we to get in your way?” Tommy replies, shaking his head.

You gasp quietly and turn towards the twins, hope bubbling up in your chest. They still don’t look totally okay, but the small, tired smiles on each of their faces tells you that they will be in time.

Wanda makes the first move, walking towards them both and cupping each of their faces, “You really mean it moya lubov? Because I stand by what I said, the happiness of you two will always be the most important thing to me.”

Any residual tension in the faces of your two friends fade under their mother’s touch.

“Yeah, mom. We mean it. We just want you to be happy.”

Tommy looks at you then and raises his eyebrows sternly, “And I swear to god, if you hurt her.”

You let out a watery chuckle, “I won’t. I promise.”

“And you,” Billy says, looking to his mom, “if you hurt her?”

Wanda turns and looks at you softly, “I could never.”

Then at the same time Billy and Tommy say, “okay.”

*****

When everything has settled, you and Wanda find yourselves alone yet again. Though there’s still so much new ground to navigate between you, Wanda, and the boys, you can’t ignore the unbridled happiness overwhelming your senses. You and Wanda look at each other with the biggest, goofiest smiles on your faces and you jump into her arms.

Reminded once again how strong she is, Wanda catches you easily and you wrap your legs around her waist. She presses a heated kiss to your lips and you encourage her, arms circling her neck. Somehow while still kissing you, she makes her way down the hall to her room. When she steps inside she kicks the door closed and carries you to the bed. Wanda throws you down on your back gently and then climbs on top of you. She kisses you a few times on the lips, and then the neck, before trailing her hands lower to the hem of your shirt. She makes eye contact with you, seemingly asking if she can take it off, and you nod aggressively. She chuckles lowly and grabs your shirt. You stick your arms out as she pulls it over your head and tosses it somewhere across the room. You shiver, and you’re not sure if it’s from the cold air, Wanda’s gaze, or her burning touch across your stomach- probably all three. 

“So beautiful, baby,” she mumbles, placing kisses at your collarbone and then slowly trailing down to the valley of your breasts.

You moan at her featherlight touches, but you still need more. Wanda seems to read your mind as she slides her hands underneath you and unclips your bra. Your nipples are hard from arousal and the cold air and Wanda moans at the sight. She surges forward and takes your left nipple into her mouth, sucking softly at the bud and letting her tongue roll casually over it. Her hand stimulates your other tit, groping and pinching it lightly. She alternates, so that both get their fair share. When she pulls away she plants a kiss on your panting lips before moving downward to the lower half of your body. She pushes your knees up, so that your feet lay flat on the bed, and your legs spread for her. You look down at her, her eyes full of lust and cleavage on display as she bends towards your pussy, and you moan. She places kisses and bites across your calves and then thighs before tugging off your shorts and then grabbing your underwear, pulling it tantalizingly slow down your legs. 

All of it’s painfully hot, and you're desperate to tell Wanda to move faster- but you know better than to rush her.

Wanda gasps as she throws your panties aside and eyes your pink, glistening folds, “such a pretty pussy, and all for me.”

You hum, “yes, only you Wanda.”

“Good,” she answers, patting your thigh. She moves back up your body and kisses you, though  one hand travels down between your thighs. Lightly, she places pressure on your clit and rubs slow, soft circles. The only way to describe the sensation is white, hot pleasure and you cry out- luckily into her mouth. As her mouth migrates down your body, so do her fingers. They dip into your outer folds and tease your hole with your gathered wetness. As she sucks on your nipple yet again, one finger slides slowly into you and you let out a loud moan, “Oh Wanda, that- that feels so good. Please.”

“You’re doing so good for me Detka”, Wanda praises, “So tight and warm.”

“Th- thank you Wanda. Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you repeat as she thrusts her finger in and out of you slowly. 

Wanda then inserts a second finger, stretching you wider. It’s a little painful, but it feels so good you don’t mind.

As you writhe in pleasure, you watch Wanda. Her long, red hair falls over her shoulder as she bends down to suck a hickey onto your neck. Her face is flushed and her green eyes are lust-blown. As Wanda’s hand continues to pound into you, you reach out and pull Wanda away from your neck. 

“Wanna touch you Wanda,” you say breathlessly. You pull her in and kiss her lips roughly again. One hand stays in her hair and tugs at her red locks while the other wanders down to grope her tits. She moans into your mouth and her fingers falter for a second at your touch. As you continue your ministrations on her clothed breasts, Wanda adds a third finger and you nearly see stars. Desperate for her own release, she begins to hump your thigh as she fingers you. Observing her pleasure nearly sends you over the edge. 

You beg Wanda to stop for just a moment so that you can slip off her shirt. You unclasp her bra and grunt at the sight of her naked tits. Wanda continues to pound into you and your legs tighten around her hand. As she humps your leg, you watch her beautiful tits bounce and the way her head is thrown back in a fit of pleasure. The image of Wanda before you sends you over the edge, finally, and your stomach muscles clench. You cry out loudly and moan Wanda’s name over and over as you finally come. Your body shakes with pleasure and you really do see stars this time. When you come down from your high, you are panting heavily. Wanda is still chasing her own, and you can tell she’s getting close. You grip her hips and stop her, “Don’t want you to cum on my thigh, Wanda.”

Suddenly, you flip her onto her back and straddle her.

“Drawer, Detka, look in my drawer,” Wanda breathes out desperately. You reach over her and open the top drawer on the left. Inside is a pink strap-on.

“You want me to use this, Wanda?” You ask seriously. 

“Please, please fuck me baby,” she answers huskily. 

You stand from the bed, Wanda groaning at the loss of your touch, as you step into the harness and tighten it against your skin so that it bumps your clit a little. When you crawl back onto the bed, you grab the hem of Wanda’s pants and yank them down. Then, you grab her lacy black underwear and pull that down too, revealing her pussy to you. You moan loudly and instantly surge forward, licking a line up her slit. She tastes so sweet, and you want to eat her out so badly, but you decide to save that for later. 

“Please, Detka. Don’t tease me,” Wanda orders. 

You nod and do as she says. You line the tip of the dildo up to her entrance and tease her folds. She moans softly and grabs your waist. Then, slowly, you slide inside her. She’s wet enough that there’s not much resistance, and when your hips meet hers you pause. 

Wanda sighs out, “So big. Feels so good, baby. So full of you.”

“Anything for you Wanda. Your pretty pussy deserves everything,” you whisper in her ear as you thrust your hips for the first time. The squeal she lets out sends you into a frenzy, and quickly you are pounding into Wanda at a rapid pace. She’s only letting out a series of moans, whines and squeals and it’s so incredibly hot. You suck on one of her nipples and play with the other till she is writhing underneath you. When you get her close, you move down a little and throw her legs over your shoulders, allowing you to lift her hips off the bed and drill into her at a deeper angle. You know you’ve found her g-spot by the way she lets out long, loud moans, and you muffle her mouth with your lips so that Billy and Tommy don’t hear. With one final thrust, Wanda’s eyes roll into the back of her head and her back arches into you, tits touching. The moans of your name light a fire in your stomach, and the added stimulation of the strap on your throbbing clit sends you over the edge a second time. You both cum together before slowly coming down from your high. You’re left panting as you collapse on top of her, the dildo still inside.

As you start to recover, Wanda slowly starts stroking your sweaty hair away from your face. You smile against her chest and place a soft kiss there. 

“That was really good, Wanda. Thank you.”

Wanda only lifts your chin and smiles at you before she locks your lips in another kiss- this time more sweet and tender. 

*****

The time you’d been dreading the entire week- saying goodbye- has finally arrived. While it once left you sick with dread, now it doesn’t seem so bad. The fact that you and Wanda aren’t saying goodbye forever certainly helps. Wanda’s in the kitchen sweeping out the sand and you and the twins are packing up their car with your bags. You were nervous this morning that they’d act weird around you now that you’re with Wanda, but they’ve been fairly normal besides the occasional dark jokes here or there. 

When the last of your stuff is loaded into the car, the three of you make your way back into the house. 

“Mom? Want us to take your bags out to your car?” Tommy asks, swiping a banana off the counter. 

She smiles sweetly at him, “yes, please. Thank you.”

You give Wanda a wink and begin to follow after the boys when she calls out, “wait, Detka. I need your help.”

Billy mockingly gags and you roll your eyes at him before trotting obediently back to Wanda. 

“What’d you need help with?” You ask her eagerly.

She peers over your shoulder, making sure the boys aren’t in sight, and then grabs you by the shirt, pulling you in for a kiss. 

You can’t help but smile against her lips, and when you pull away you chuckle.

“Was that it?”

She hums contentedly, “though I think I need one more for good measure.”

“I’m here to serve,” you tell her teasingly, kissing her again. 

“Nope! No! Okay, that’s enough you two,” Tommy declares as he comes back into the kitchen, “Jesus, I’m gonna throw up.”

You both have the decency to look sheepish and say, “sorry!”

He sighs, feigning annoyance, “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Now come on, we gotta get back to school.”

Billy joins you all in the kitchen, “Yep, we gotta go, so no more public indecency, please.”

You snort a little and slap his arm lightly, “shut up.”

He gives you a pointed look and then goes up to hug Wanda, “Bye Mom. I’ll call you next week, okay?”

She hugs him tightly and kisses him tenderly on the forehead before taking Tommy into her arms, “Goodbye, moya lubov.”

Then she says to both of them, “You let me know when you get back safe. I love you!”

“Love you too,” they both say at the same time, heading towards the door.

Tommy looks at you, “you coming?”

You nod, “Yep, be right out in a second.”

When they’re gone you don’t say anything to Wanda, you just pull her into a tight embrace. 

“We’ll see each other soon, okay?” she tells you.

You pull away and admire her pretty features one final time before you have to say goodbye.

“Okay, Wanda. I’ll see you soon.”

She smiles warmly at you and kisses goodbye, but not, you happily note, for forever.

************************************************************************

Tag list: @xenaizogie @alexawynters @eclipse727 @idkwhatever580 @opp-jumpscare @starynn @alessiaswifey @noturlondonboy @chickenlittlsblog @lizzieolsen89 @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @wandasdove @unity-rae @traveler-at-heart @wandasreallover

[xoluvx]

FLUFF BILLIE TIME!!

truly an in-depth exploration to Billie and Reader both laying on the carpet in the lounge room. So like couches surround them to watch tv but instead Billie and Y/n are both lying on the carpet floor looking at eachother. Just looking at eachother. Studying eachother. Billie feels low and Y/n tucks a hair out of Bills’ face, cheering her up and getting her to talk it out a bit. They’re smiling at eachother. Sun peeking in the window of their house. It’s just them, alone, together. Eventually they blend into each others bodies, holding and kissing eachother till eternity. Affirmations galore, to eachother.

ILY!!!! TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF! You’re a wonderful writer and we love that you help spread love!!

omg this is wonderful and need i add more? this was perfection in and of itself. like i was daydreaming reading this. also thank youuu. "we love that you help spread love"?? are you kidding, i'm crying and i'm out of tissues!! ily angel.

"just lay down with me," you plead holding out your hand. her shoulders slumps as she leans her elbows on her thighs looking down at you. her hair cascades down her shoulders, covering part of her face but you can still see her hazy eyes and pouty lips.

"please?" your voice cracks, you can hear the desperation in your own voice. you just want to feel her next to you. to lose yourselves in your own little world even if it's just for two seconds.

billie nods, her lips in a tight line smile. she holds your hand, fingers interlacing as she inhales and exhales. she lays on her side, facing you. you can't help but smile as your eyes trace every feature on her face. the arch of her brows. bright blue eyes. perfectly round lips. her little button nose. the freckles sprinkled across her face.

she bites the inside of her lip, looking away shyly.

"tell me what's on your mind," you scoot closer, still holding her hand. you squeeze it three times and she sighs heavily turning to her back. she's pulling away. you feel her physically and emotionally creating space. she purses her lips and then draws them back into a frown.

"please baby," you scoot closer until she has nowhere to go and she finally turns her face to you. her eyes are glazed. lip tucked under teeth trying to contain her emotions.

"it's okay to cry," you reassure running your finger down the side of her face touching the small tear that was pooling at the corner of her eye.

"it's really nothing," she sniffles and wipes her tear then her contagious laugh fills the space you're sharing and she's coming closer and her hand is on your cheek and your noses are brushing as the soft rays of sunlight peek through the curtains.

your heads lean close, breathes mingling as your giggles subside and you're only left with the warm fuzzy feelings in your hearts and your interlaced fingers. your lips are so close. when you finally lean in a million little stars flash behind your eyelids. it's a soft kiss. a tender kiss. a kiss where your bodies melt and mold into one. hands clinging to each other's faces, legs intertwining, noses clashing, lips moving in sync.

it's beautiful. it's soft. it's necessary.

it calms every part of your body and eases your soul.

[esoteriamaya]

All About The Trines Pt. 1 : Sun's Rising

Alright, so today's focus is about the beautiful trines in astrology.

Whether its in the natal chart, synastry, or even a transit. Trines are very interesting associations that connect the planets together. It is a natural force that takes just a tiny bit of effort, but once you get a taste of it, you gotta pull its string a little. Just so you can get more of it. When you do this, it'll become a stronger sensation. And it will mean much more throughout your lifetime (natal) if you play your cards right.

So whatever planets you have trine in your chart, also look to the houses. Because it shows that the energies of these houses blend together to create something natural, powerful, and authentic.

So, here is a few observations I have on some trines. This'll be part 1 because there is so many, but if you feel I missed yours or your just interested in learning different trines in any chart, feel free to let me know and I can add it in pt.2.

So you ready? Lets ride.

Sun trine Moon

To have this in a natal chart shows theres a compassionate nature that comes out of the individual. They have a creative force that is authentic, yet inspirational. Interesting, but very divine. You attract people like honey, and your words fuel the gates to return to heaven. I mean that seriously. Its a beautiful placement overall. It has this flow that is strong, yet soft. Blissful, yet hard to come by. These people seem to be protected by a hidden force that is deeply felt. Like their connected to the archangels or something. A sun trine moon individual must weave their power in order to get into their bag. In order to truly capture this, they must allow their souls to express itself freely. And whatever feelings come out of the surface is what they should allow to flow through air, and allow others to flow with its being.

Sun trine Jupiter

A person with this special persona is up for a real treat. Lucky experiences can take shape in the houses these two planets are in. They change abruptly, thats jupiters domain. This release they feel comes from the brain, and out into the world. The body holds onto this magic, and awaits for it turns to absorb any more of it that they can get. This is so that when the time is right, they can create realities out of thin air. And have a magical race into the sunset. Lol. its a one of a kind placement.

So lets get serious for a bit, sun trine jupiter placements have a knack for picking up on the finest lines of social stimulation. So much so, they tend to get into fortunate experiences every chance they get. They know to take a chance and to allow things to come in when need be. Optimistic nature is a given, so they dont work to hard to get what they need/want. This might be different if Jupiter is in retrograde, as time and time again it will show a different discretion. Hoping for something different and not getting the results (we will talk about retrograde planets in aspects later). Overall, this placement is a natural force of divine intervention, and a worthy placement to have when you're feeling good & lucky.

Sun trine Mars

There energy is always up for the challenge. Their honestly gifted in areas where their soul can jump into high intensity inducing things. Their energy is powerful, strong and vital. And this type of placement needs more time and structure than any other. It is because this placement needs time to focus its energy onto something, as martians typically need to put themselves on overdrive to use up some of that intensity they have in their bodies. Their expression (sun) ties real well with the bold like persona (mars) of an individual who knows what they want. These people are pretty confident naturally, and need no ones help on getting to what they desire. Although it would be nice, these placements typically know their way around. Because it is a trine, its flow and force is deeply penetrating. I would say this makes them more well liked but it isn't true. Martians tend to be unlikeable due to unconfident people or others not being able to catch the flow they have and tame it. Its inspirational by nature because it uses its force to capture an authentic moment that describes who they are. Their just naturally equipped to due dangerous things, or things people are too scared to do and shy away from, This is what makes them sexy. If you have this placement or anyone with it, please tell them to try new things that dare them to go above and beyond. You dont know what'll make of it, thats the surprise all along. It's truly a one of its kind.

Sun trine Pluto

Ah, the gift that keeps on giving. Here, I believe this placement can be very authorative. It has a special quality to it where people who heal others can weave their ability to make amends with the psyche and what wounds they've been carrying around for some time, and open up to a higher awakening so that their souls can meet a new cycle they've been dreaming of for a while.

These individuals have what it takes to move on from cycles that no longer serve them. Their energy is built on capturing the moment to when it times to breathe their last, they are transforming into the next big thing. Every single time. It's like the butterfly effect but in human form. Its capable of treating others in a way that reflects back into their inner circle. That domain they keep their hidden selves in up until they meet a sun/pluto individual. You make them wonder what its like to live on the other side. On edge. On an emotional rollercoaster, but the one that shares its joy and authenticity at the end of the ride. It makes you wonder, what are they truly hiding? Because they make themselves look so well put together after everything done.

Sun trine Saturn

Structure & Foundation is a karmic blessing for them. They do have a gift inside of them that helps them get through the day. They understand that things really don't come as hard, but as easy as people say. I love this placement simply because there is a sense of maturity already present in the individual, that they don't need to oversell it and potentially lose their childhood. They kind of know what they want and what they have to do to get it respectfully so they can grow into that thing they are looking into. It's like a person who is consciously aware they're like a 'tree', one that grows with time and can't be rushed.. so their patience for things is really top tier (unless they have other placements with mars that say otherwise). They naturally carry a sense of wisdom that is given to them by birth, and they tend to know what their talking about early on. Even if they haven't gone thru it themselves. Great and carrying personas and could be like teachers even at a young age. A wonderful placement to catch in the chart.

Sun trine Neptune

Oh my gawd. These wonderful placement holders have a GIFT from God. Naturally empathetic, intuitive, and can really see into the soul. Their so talented in what they do and what they come up with and they intrigue people (like their sun/uranus buddies) in a propelling way. They are the light that the world needs when things get to ugly, to dark, to serious. They connect to the ethers in a way that others may have forgotten, or have never knew before. The way sun trine neptune can pick up on energies before it shows up in the room, or the way they are able to read other people and understand the differences between them and others makes them likeable and rejected by society at the same time. Like I said, they can be pretty interesting. But there connection to the stars is unmatched.

Sun trine Uranus

Compelling natures. Quick-witted. And has a looooooad of information in those brains that can't go unnoticed. Literal geniuses in those little bodies of theirs. Their intellectual but their force is so much more than that. You can't keep up with them. Their literally 20 years away while everyone is trying to catch up. Make fun of them now, copy them later. It's the usual. They know they shock the world, but do they care? Not exactly. There is an innate understanding on how the world works, and their rebellion is far past the way society moves. They're just different, theres nothing for them to prove. They ease into this as they age as well.

Sun trine North Node

Rahu has its mark here.. Very interesting considering that their mortal enemies. In a trine its no different. These two have a fiery nature when together. So a person with this in a natal chart have a drive that is incapable of stopping any time soon. There destiny wants it, but do they need it? They have to go with the flow, which is incredibly interesting because trines work that way. But with rahu against the sun? Whew. They got some work to do. If it’s talent you wanna see, then with this placement you just might get it. You gotta work hard at it though because rahu isn’t letting up lol.

Sun trine South Node

Beneficial factors play here because ketu is sweetened with the suns magic. Your souls purpose becomes a factor in a way that you aren't creating anything out of thin air, it just comes to you. Your soul's spirit was ready to take on the mission since the day you was born. So you're capable of anything. You just have to wait for the right time, because it's divine intervention that takes the cake here.

I hope you guys enjoyed this small interp on the trines connecting to the sun! Beautiful placements.

Also if anyone was wondering, the sun cannot trine venus and mercury since they can't be no more than two signs away from each other. Hope that helps.

Anyways, if you have any questions feel free to ask in the comments!

[gaysindistress]

Allies or Enemies - two

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

pairings: Dragonborn!bucky x f!reader

Summary: The reality of her cruel world is more evident than ever before when her stepfather sends her to her death under the guise of diplomacy. Y/n, the expendable daughter of a scared king, must find a way to secure her own protection among the Dragonborn and she will do that by whatever means necessary.

Warnings: nothing

Word count: 3k

series masterlist | one

taglist: @blackbirdwitch22 @alyeskathewave @learisa @screechingfangirlaf @unaxv @oh-gods-its-a-dragon

When one thinks of a binding ceremony, several things are sure to come to mind.

Maybe this is a ceremony similar to a human marriage where the couple declares their intent to love and cherish each other for the rest of their days. Maybe this is a ceremony similar to a knighting where a squire completes the final stage and takes the vow to become a knight. The possibilities are endless to be completely truthful but yet what this particular binding ceremony entails is nothing that I could’ve ever imagined.

Pepper takes great pleasure in telling me every detail of the Dragonborn ceremony as she cinches my corset and stabs sharp pins into my hair, bundling it into the tightest updo that she can manage.

“You are not to speak to the knight unless necessary. Conversation is considered improper amongst their kind. You are not to create any sort of relationship with this knight. A relationship outside that of diplomat and guardian is considered improper.”

She spares no detail as she paints my face in the palest fashions possible and dresses me in a blood red velvet gown. My shoulders are exposed thanks to the heavily beaded neckline that sits across my chest and constricts my movement.

I detect the faintest hint of a smirk as she whispers into my ear that this ceremony will forever bind my soul to that of a Dragonborn knight and the process is usually quite painful for humans.

“You will wear their mark and it will cause you great pain if you leave sight of the knight. They will be able to sense your every emotion so it would do you well to learn how to control your emotions.”

When she draws back to look upon her masterpiece of human terror in the vanity mirror, I see the pleased look upon her narrow face and suppress a shiver. She gives me a thin lipped grimace before spraying me with an awful smelling perfume.

Coughing and fanning away the offending the scent, I demand to know what it is and receive no answer but that grimace.

As if to add insult to injury, the dreadful woman forced me to wear satin slippers in the same hue as my dress. The cold from the winter storm that rages on outside seeps into my bones as she marches me through the palace. It’s started to numb my toes, causing me to stumble over myself and fall to the ground. Pepper spins on her heel to snap at me but something stops her. Her angry green eyes quickly turn to fearful ones as she tears them away from me and fixates on something behind me. She takes a step back from me and straightens her back, quickly assuming the dutiful advisor persona.

A clawed gauntlet appears to my right and offers itself to me.

‘They’re not like us’ begins to play in my head over and over again as I stare at the hand of my newest captor. The owner clears their throat and the chanting in my mind ceases. Stealing a fleeting glance up, I realize that this is not the same knight that I was close to in the battle room only hours earlier. There are no distinguishing differences between the two but something screams to me that this is not him, the one who promised me safety.

“You look beautiful, my lady,” the knight’s hoarse voice rumbles through his helmet as he helps me to my feet. This is not the other one who asked about the ceremony but instead one who had stayed silent.

I force myself to swallow my emotions despite the dam that they’ve created in my throat and mumble a quiet ‘thank you for your kind words’.

The knight lets out a thunderous chuckle that vibrates my body as well as his. “They are the truth, my lady. Kind words are lies told to assuage weak minded individuals and we do not make a habit of lying in Devora.”

“You should address her as your highness, she is not a lady. Regardless we will be late, your highness,” Pepper says in a clipped tone. Her face has grown as red as her hair but the knight pays her no mind and keeps his attention solely on me.

“Thank you…for your honesty then.”

With his helmet in place, I can’t see his face but there is an air around him that tells me that he’s smiling at me. My mind begins to wonder once more and I find myself imagining what it might look like. What might this knight look like beneath his helm of duty and beauty?

“You may leave. I will escort her from here,” he tells Pepper who balks at the suggestion.

“It is improper…” she begins but he cuts her off.

“Leave.”

She looks to me as if I could be the voice of reason and finds no such thing. I tell her as gently as I can that she needs not worry and we will follow shortly. Her sharp eyes cut from my face to our still joined hands and she turned up her nose before finally taking her leave.

The seconds it takes for her to disappear down the hall feel like they span over centuries but once she’s gone, a sigh of relief escapes me.

Another rumbling chuckle comes from the knight. “What a foul woman,” he muses while moving my hand to rest on his arm and starts to walk, “Is she always in such a miserable mood or does she reserve such behavior for guests?”

“I think she reserves it for me but otherwise her mood is always rather miserable. Maybe it’s the lack of sun here in York,” I suggest as I try to not marvel at the feeling of the warm armor beneath my fingers.

“Ah yes the sun. It is quite dark and dismal compared to Devora but I don’t suspect that the lack of sun is the root of her issue,” he almost whispers to me before moving the conversation along. “I do not mean to be rude but are you wearing perfume?”

I look at him quizzically as I nod my head.

“Did you choose it?” He asks as his voice grows tight and he stiffens beside me.

“No, Pepper did, why? Is something the matter with it?”

His body language is stiffer than it was moments ago and he seems to shift agitatedly beside me.

“It’s rose scented,” he states.

“And?”

It takes him a moment to answer but eventually he does, “Dragonborn have exceptional senses of smell but roses are the one scent we can’t handle. It will make us very ill.”

Instinctively I tense beside him and stall us. His clawed gauntlet comes to rest on top of my hand in an act of reassurance.

“But so do not worry though, my lady. I know that it was not you who chose it and it will not hurt any of us for the time being. It’s more of something to keep in mind,” he tells me in a low voice before he continues, “What did she tell you of the ceremony?”

I attempt to apologize but he has none of it and asks his question again. I rely as much as I can remember. At the end of my rambling, the knight laughs whole heartedly and even clutches at his chest.

“Do not fear it, my lady. It’s common amongst our people so I assure you it will be painless and quick. Stéphanos has performed it many times. What pepper has told you is incorrect but it is not my place to tell what your relationship with your guardian will be. I will allow him to answer any questions that you may have.”

“My guardian,” I half say to him and to myself when we begin to walk again, “who is to be my guardian?”

“I cannot say. It’s not my place.”

“What can you tell me?”

“My name. It’s Samuel.”

“And who is Stéphanos?”

“He is our leader.”

“And the other knights?”

I’m met with silence.

‘It appears his long winded speech has found its limits’ I find myself thinking as we continue our stroll towards where I assume the ceremony is. Pepper thought it best that I didn’t know where it would take place so that I couldn’t run away beforehand. I desperately wanted to scream at her that there was nowhere for me to go, not when Dragonborn freely roamed our halls and hid in the ancient trees that surrounded the palace.

Much to my surprise we are nearing the gardens and are met by the other knights. Samuel lets go of my hand and guides me to take the hand of another knight. When he greets me, I recognize him as Stéphanos. He does the same as Samuel; places my hand on the croak of his elbow whilst keeping it there with his own.

“Good evening, Stépahnos or shall I call you Sir Stéphanos? I fear I do not know your people’s customs in regards to formality.”

“Stéphanos is just fine, my lady but if you wish to tutored in our ways then Natasha,” he tells me as he presents me to the one knight that I have yet to meet, “will do they. She has agreed to tutor you in any way that you desire. She will also be your guardian should anything happen to the other.”

The female knight bows her head in respect but otherwise stays silent. I go to ask him about the final knight, the one who promised me safety only hours ago, when a shrill voice calls out my name. Satin slippers slap the stone beneath our feet as my mother races towards us.

“Oh my dear child!” She nearly shrieks and comes to a halt as soon as she spots the knights who now surround me. Her sorrowful eyes make a sharp path from my face to where my hand rests on Stéphanos’ elbow. “My dear I had wished to speak with you before but I was…otherwise engaged. May I see you for just a moment?”

“Perhaps after the ceremony, your highness,” Stéphanos interjects before I can.

Her face scrunches in annoyance, “I believe I was speaking to my daughter, not you.”

“And I believe that the ceremony is about to begin. Your conversation can wait until it is finished,” the unnamed knight, my guardian to be, speaks up for the first time. His voice ricochets through the room like thunder through a forest, shaking the leaves of dust and cobwebs of the palace. His presence is even more powerful than his three comrades combined as he steps to the other side of me. His clawed gauntlets find their place on his onyx long sword, a silent display of dominance and bravery towards the queen.

Stéphanos mutters something in Draconic to himself. While I know that the strange words that fall from his tongue are in his native language, I do not understand it. During my father’s reign I learned to recognize the language through passing conversations but I was forbad from learning it. Draconic is an ancient language that is sacred to them; anyone who’s not a Dragonborn and is caught speaking it, is sentenced to death immediately.

My mother gasps at the knight, clearly offended that he would dare to speak to her in such a manner. Normally I would’ve expected her to lecture him and demand that the guards remove him from her sight but something tells me she won’t. Whether it be because there are no York guards present or the knight’s bold actions, she makes a displeased expression and huffs instead.

“Very well. I shall find you before you retire for the night,” she tells me in a cutting note as she skirts around us towards the garden doors.

Once she’s gone and the doors have closed, the knight turns to Stéphanos and says himself to him in Draconic before signaling to Samuel and Natasha. The three nod to their leader and follow after my mother.

“Ready, my lady?” Stéphanos asks me when we’re alone.

‘No I’m not’ I think to myself but I have to be. I have to be ready for this.

So I give him a polite smile and tell him that I am.

A dull knife is often more dangerous than a sharp knife because you do not expect it to hurt you. You are lulled into a false sense of safety by the blunt edges and do not take the proper precautions to keep yourself safe.

The knife that Stephanos is holding gleams in the moonlight as he stands over the knight and I, quietly chanting a Draconic prayer. Our scenery is reflected in the metal blade, painting a rather grim affair; a broody knight being bound by duty to a forsaken princess in a nation that is weak and desperate. Between the reflections of us, I can see that the blade has been sharpened to the thinnest edge possible. A part of me is grateful for this as it slices through my flesh and blood beads from my palm without the faintest hint of pain. I do not feel the usual sting until well after the cut has been made and droplets of my blood have been poured over a small pale white stone ring.

When the sting does race through my nerve endings and communicate with my mind that I’m in pain, the stone has absorbed my blood and allowed itself to become a marbled mess of sanguine white.

When the hiss that follows my pain finally slips past my lips, I’ve been instructed to close my eyes so that my knight can don his ring. Once again too distracted by everything around me, I fail to do as I am told in time and catch a glimpse of lustrous white scales that I was not meant to see.

When I’m told to open my eyes, my hand is clutched to my chest and those scales are nowhere to be seen. In their place is a black clawed gauntlet with a necklace dangling from it. Stephanos mutters more Draconic over the necklace before instructing a servant to take it and place it around my neck. Even without doing it himself, a rush of heat unlike I’ve ever felt before overcomes me when the necklace takes its place against my sternum. One brief glance at it tells me that it’s the twin to the knight’s ring; a pendant of a white and red stone set in a delicate silver frame. Stephanos continues in Draconic and I continue to stare but this time at the knight’s hand where I had seen such familiar white scales.

“Are you alright?” I hear through deaded ears. The dryness in my eyes tells me that I’ve been staring for too long and I attempt to blink it away without success. Stephanos’ head is bent towards me as if he were trying to get on my level but no matter how low he might bend, it still would not matter with how tall the horns on his helmet are.

My brows pinch together in confusion while I try to piece together what’s happening. My mother’s soft cries and Anthony’s false reassurances do not reach my ears nor do the hushed conversations of Samuel and Natasha. The night’s song of gentle wind gusts and songful owls passes me by as do the creaking of ancient trees and vexing toads. All that I hear is the sound of my own blood pounding and my breath hitching as the world rushes past me. All I feel is that burning heat from my sternum racing through every vein and into every cell in my body.

All I feel is him.

What’s more cruel than being forced to endure a confining and uncomfortable form is doing it while listening to the ear splitting shrieks of humans. All around me humans are screaming and panicking as if the princess has suddenly and tragically died. With her motionless body cradled in my arms, I can hear her heartbeat as it pounds in time to my own but neither the queen or her cowardly husband are willing to listen to me. Somewhere behind me Natahsha and Samuel are keeping the weeping royals contained while Stephanos kneels before me.

“Tell me.”

“Her body wasn’t strong enough to handle the binding but she will be fine. Her heartbeat is steady and her breathing is returning to normal. She will need rest,” I state before being interrupted by my own intrepid thinking. Between my focus on the ceremony and maintaining my human form, I hadn’t noticed the utterly repugnant smell of roses. My body wishes to throw the princess and put as much distance between her and I as possible but I cannot. The most infuriating part is that I would’ve been able to only minutes ago for it’s the ring that I now wear that refuses to let me do so. The twin stones will not allow me to put her in harm’s way nor will they let her do the same to me. They will keep us close to each other whether we want that or not in order to maintain both of our safety.

Stephanos whispers my name, snapping my attention back to him. “I suspect we will need to leave for Devora sooner than planned. Can she travel?”

His words are followed by the sound of a hysterical queen demanding our heads for harming her daughter and several ill equipped guards coming to her aid.

“She might not have another choice.”

[theresattrpgforthat]

Any games thematically similar to Fallen London? Blades in the Dark helps me scratch that itch on the tabletop, but there are probably others.

THEME: Fallen London.

Hello friend! So first of all, I’d recommend checking out the free ttrpg Skyfarer, written by Grant Howitt & Chris Taylor, and released by Failbetter Games, as it’s the canonical Sunless Skies TTRPG. So it’s set in the same universe! I’ve talked about it before in one of my Free Games posts.

Now that that’s covered, let’s see what else is out there.

Do Not Fear, by Hella Big Claws.

Do Not Fear is a Forged In the Dark Tabletop Roleplaying game, about accepting the fleetingness of life; and using the strength that gives you in order to combat a growing stagnation.

Fight as a Hunter, a person who has been given a Gift of Bloom; a fungus like infection that allows for incredible strength and regenerative ability; in exchange for subsuming your flesh as you die.

Combat or save the Rusted; living creatures infected by a growing viral stagnation; marbling their bones and rusting their flesh; sculpting them into horrifyingly beautiful creations.

Ascend the Tower; a large, multilayered structure which you call home. Interact with the factions and people within, as you set down roots.

This game is on my to-buy list for sure, as I love FitD games and I’m intrigued by the themes of infection and stagnation that appear in this game. This game is still very much in-progress and so there might be some bugs to work out, but thanks to the Itch.io Summer Sale, this game is currently half-off! Honestly the cover art draws me in as well, and I’m hoping that the designer has more in store where that came from, because I find it very evocative, and I’m interested to see where this game goes.

Beneath a Cursed Moon, by Karrius.

Beneath a Cursed Moon is a Gothic fantasy game that uses a system based on the Apocalypse World engine. Take the role of monster hunters and slay vampires, werewolves, mermen, and more in a game inspired by Castlevania and Bloodborne.

I’m seeing a lot of ties between Fallen London, Blades in the Dark, and Bloodborne, which is why if a game has Bloodborne in it’s list of inspirations, I add it to the list. Beneath a Cursed Moon is a pay-what-you-want PbtA game that focuses primarily on monster-slaying. Because it expects you as a group to create and tailor your own unique setting, I can see creating a space that evokes the same tone as Fallen London as pretty feasible. There are 11 different playbooks to choose from, and a whole section of monsters and monster-creation guidelines that give the GM plenty to work with. You should absolutely check out this game.

Vigilant, by Ill Advised Gaming.

Vigilant is a Gothic Victorian world of monsters and churches and eldritch secrets. Of Blood and Beasts and Hunters. Of Dreams and Nightmares.

Using a combination of rules from Caltrop Core and Powered by the Apocalypse, this should be a pretty easy-to-learn system. You’ll make moves similar to PbtA games, but you’ll roll pools of d4’s, similar to Caltrop Core. Characters also have a shared resource called Momentum, which represent show you can affect the narrative using assets present on your character sheet. Setting-wise, the world of industry is introducing new monsters to a world already fraught with the terrors of the ancient. Your characters are monster-hunters who find themselves empowered by the Covenants: knights, scientists, hunters, and more.

The game is still in early-access, so not all of the character options are available yet, but the setting itself fucking slaps. You should check it out.

Unhallowed Metropolis, by Strix Publishing.

It has been two hundred years since first the outbreak of the Plague, when the dead rose to feed on the flesh of the living. Countless millions perished in the chaos that followed. It was the dawn of a new dark age.

London, the capital of the Neo-Victorian Empire, is a vast, densely crowded city. Beneath the towering walls and crackling Tesla towers, where the fallout of a thousand crematoria darkens the streets, ten-million souls live in squalor. Predators, human and inhuman, stalk the slums and rookeries, preying on the unwary and the helpless. Beneath the haunted streets, resurrection men and body snatchers hock their grisly wares at blood-stained meat markets. Their clients are degenerate ghouls and amateur anatomists who practice the outlawed science of reanimation.

This game inspired by authors such as Mary Shelley and Edgar Allen Poe. It uses a point-buy character creation system, and allows you to play Dhampirs, Mad Doctors, Aristocrats, Criminals and so much more. This is a game about noir tropes, a Victorian post-apocalypse, and zombies. One of my favourite pieces of this game is the character class of the Mourners, who are a group of women hired to stand by the bedsides of the recently deceased, ready to decapitate them at the first sign of re-animation.

If you want to hear an actual-play of this game, the long-standing AP podcast Fandible has a campaign that is one of the longest-running games on their feed. You can hear from their play how much of a dearly-loved game this is.

What Lies Beneath the Darkness, by Cezar Capacle.

What Lies Beneath the Darkness is a gaslamp fantasy game about intrigue and struggle. 

You play as a Horror employed by a faction to expand their dominance over the victorianesque city of Ravenswatch, while you fight to balance the human and supernatural natures that inhabit you.

You will face the dark streets of Ravenswatch performing missions for your faction. You live an internal battle between your human links and your dark instincts, between what you want and what your faction demands.

This is a GM-less game that puts factions front-and-center, with both solo and multiplayer options. The game uses the Push system, which allows you to push-your-luck for better results, with a possibility of going too far, which I really really love. The game is gaslamp-gothic and supernatural, and puts the characters in fraught positions where they must work for more powerful masters, struggling not to fall into their personal darkness. I’m very very intrigued by this game.

Games I’ve Recommended Before

Slayers, by Gila RPGs.

18XX Night, by Deep Light Games.

The Between, by The Gauntlet.

[shock]

"Don't just play—do something!", Jack Abele, 01.21.24.

This is a companion piece to the collage I made about moving into the first place that felt like my home back in '21 (shown below). They have matching frames and are displayed together above our dining table! This second piece is a reflection on how my relationship to "home" has evolved since then, especially after proposing to my now fiancé last month. I'm really proud of it!

Text transcript:

FOR YOUR EYES ONLY

In the cold, thin clouds of interstellar space, written in the precise message of starlight:

What made you so interested in fireflies?

Imagine that they propel the environment into play: they STAND OUT, add color, chaos, curves moving behind and below, inside, outward along feedback loops, perplexing positive panic persuaded to make another form of animal art.

Love is a Many-Splendored Thing, a beautiful structure, flamboyantly scuzzy, sassy, a full bouquet of many wild ideas — a dazzling interplay between lightness and unclarity, trying things out, fancy, whimsical records looped with webs, half-truth surface textures composed of swirls within swirls, a performance of information, scene-setting details with many impressive, more tongue-in-cheek, unforeseeable aspects relatively stable and evolving at the same time.

Distinctly transitional.

The trouble with love is it's hard to describe in simple and consistent words. Beyond the jolting familiarity of self-similar, self-referential tessellating hues, the little comedy-drama fictions... you see openness, possibilities toward change; our very existence together antidote to the dull grind of the paradox that we live every moment in an indifferent universe yet having so much fun with friends, local communities, places, faces, even muddy bog holes.

Music! A Tribe Called Quest, The Beastie Boys, The Breeders, Nick Cave, Nine Inch Nails, Soundgarden, Santana and Crosby, Stills, and Nash, mud-caked at Woodstock, picking up Space Age scrap, cutting collaged paper, playing with magical little lights, heretically evolving in this meaningless, magnificent place fine-tuned just right to allow for life, love, and grunge to exist nevertheless.

Maybe what keeps me here, making art, is how beautiful it is for optimism to become the first expression of hope despite danger amid the disparate depth of our universe created by chaos.

Movement characterizes my "youthful, dynamic" journey, escapes to infinite other places somewhere else, afraid of considering complicated survival long-term, wherein risk is worth the reward. But something about your windy city reminded me what strange, cascading effects the fingers of two hands form together, intersect one another, interfere with fate, interlace like light radiating rays woven, at certain points, into dynamic singularities.

Mutualism is a happy hybrid of symmetry and chaos — a relationship, it's like the entire forest is blinking in sync.

Just as the fun is to make up a great story, the writer in me calls this piece, "Don't just play— do something!"

This time around, living offers a profound pivot from playing a game. Today we confront as animals, we're not far from dogs, domesticated punks at heart, manifold.

I am humbled, exhilarated, afraid yet strangely calm and clear "On Bended Knee"

(The term ground seems inapt.)

...Nor is it possible to describe...

The closest feeling to being the world itself? It is to have loved someone so much that you wanted to spend the rest of your lifetime with them, with each other.

We're writing a book. Adding a stroke of paint and words to illustrate what we became, a bright third dimension that can be seen from space to meet the generations to come, to simulate the uncountable whimsies they could achieve.

The mind already knows before the key touches the lock.

To watch firefly swarms with a mangy mutt.

That must be quite a sight to see.

BECAUSE THEY EXIST

NOWHERE ELSE ON EARTH.

[starshower1215]

Aimless Levihan Rambling

One of the most beautiful things about Levi and Hange's relationship is all that they say without speaking. I mean, every Levihan fan has noticed the telepathy scene all the eye contact. But I just really adore how they have so much love that isn't confined to direct words, there's so much beauty in the subtlety of their love.

I think as an author myself (a very amateur one, but a big reader), I just appreciate it as a piece of art itself. Dialogue itself is so hard to write, but it is so cool once you manage it well. A general law of writing is to "Show, don't tell." It's the difference between laying down facts and setting a mood, creating a visual, and pulling the reader into the world of the character. If Levihan were intentional, then Isayama has done this very well by adhering to two different but related concepts:

A. Dialogue is less about what is being said, and more about what isn't being said.

B. If characters have to kiss or confess for the audience to understand that they're in love, they are not in love.

One of my favorite posts gave an analysis of some conversations, where Hange's statement "Don't stop what I've got going on" is translated to a plea: "Please don't get sappy with me, please don't make this harder than it already is, I've made up my mind, please just let me go." And a previous Levi statement, when Hange speaks of their comrades, goes like "Don't start sounding like him," and the person translates it to "Please don't get sappy with me, please don't make this harder than it already is, the last time someone I loved started speaking this way, I told him to give up and die."

They have a lot of emotion bubbling under the surface, so if they were to speak directly, somebody is undoubtedly going to have a meltdown. They just have such delicate dialogue. I recently read another post about someone saying, "I can't be the only one thinking they're having a completely different conversation" when Levi says "Dedicate your heart." It is, it just is, especially with Levi, whom we've seen had his own words clarified by Hange. He beats around the bush, he's just an awkward guy, but it only adds to the nuances of his statements.

This is only seen more when Hange reveals their true feelings only when Levi is supposedly unconscious, and even then, it's such a fragile way of doing so. But they know each other well enough that they can read between the lines, and the other person knows that they know, so really, this isn't about hiding it from each other. Levi and Hange know they cannot hide from each other, it's more like hiding it from themselves. Because if they say it out loud, admit it to themselves, it shatters the illusion.

[duckprintspress]

August Releases from Duck Prints Press

August has seen us releasing several new works – a short story on our webpage, four more short stories on our Patreon, and an original artwork on Patreon. Have you been considering backing our Patreon as part of the August Patreon drive but weren’t sure what you’d get? Read on for some examples of the awesomeness available to backers – or, if backing on Patreon isn’t your cup of tea, pop over to our website and buy a copy of our latest short story release!

New Patreon backers during the month of August may claim freebie Duck Prints Press merchandise worth up to $5! Read all about this promotion in this blog post: https://duckprintspress.com/2024/08/01/duck-prints-press-needs-you-become-a-patron-get-a-freebie-reblog-enter-a-giveaway/

(read more!)

New Art

Artist: Zel Howland Title: Chrysopoeia

In this beautiful, haunting piece, the multi-talented Zel Howland created an artwork entitled Chrysopoeia to accompany their short story of the same name.

Viewing Access ($5/month and $7/month backers) | Print-Suitable Download Access ($10/month and $25/month backers)

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New General Imprint Titles

Author: Willa Blythe Title: Tincture of Clarity

Modern with Magic, M/M Rivals to Lovers, Magical Tea Shop Setting. An Add Magic to Taste bonus story!

Teaser: Restaurant Week had never been a good week for Steep—not once in the six years since Emery had opened his beloved little tea shop. Every year they scraped by, struggling to get passersby to darken the doors for promises of royal tea and creamed scones and magical teapots. None of that appealed to the young and vibrant community Emery had found here, beyond the people who always came to see him, special Restaurant Week offerings or none.

Available to all Patreon backers!

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Author: Lyonel Loy Title: Rabbit, Run

Fantasy, Family and Found Family, The Children of War Find Peace

Teaser: Soraya is nine years old, and Zhengyi her oldest living brother is fifteen, when the world rises against their father at last.

“Follow the road,” Zhengyi says. He has taken off his demon war-helm to kiss them goodbye; someone else’s blood stains his face and his armor. “It will take you to your mother’s keep; they will shelter you there. Don’t leave the road, and don’t stop for anyone or anything. I’ll make sure no one follows.”

Available to $25/month Patreon backers!

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Author: Genevieve Maxwell Title: Bubbles and Butterflies

Fluffy Modern F/F Meet-Cute

Teaser: Jill was surprised when she heard the door open behind her right after she exited. The woman who had been in front of her in line was leaving as well. Jill had noticed earlier that she was pretty, but it struck her now that not only was this woman adorable, she was incredibly attractive. When she saw Jill looking, she grinned and raised her hand in a wave. Jill smiled tentatively back and turned toward her.

“Looks like we’re headed the same way,” said the woman.

Available to all Patreon backers!

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New Explicit Imprint Titles

Author: YF Ollwell Title: LA Photographs Itself

Historical First-Person Point of View M/M One-Night Stand

Teaser: It was something about the way Pax dropped the robe that made me realize there was no Playgirl test-shoot after all. He looked over his shoulder in a move he must have picked up from some femme fatale as I considered the pale shape of his spine and the bad stunt scar that sat just above the cleft of his ass… and he grinned.

“Okay, Martin,” he said in a voice barely suppressing a giggle, “I’m ready for my pin-ups.”

Available on our website for $1.99!

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Author: Terra P. Waters Title: Dancing for the King

Fantasy M/M Deity/Worshiper Size Difference. Stand-alone story set in the same ‘verse as The Wayward Timekeeper.

Teaser: Five years ago, when Andelion was 16, he had won the lottery at his school and was given the privilege of, as part of the ceremony, carrying the Book through the temple to where Tenemor sat on a dais. As Andelion had gotten his first close-up look at the god-king, he had been awestruck. Tenemor was of giant stature; his crown soared three yards up. The king’s skin was unnaturally pale, gray, and death-like, nothing like Anavita’s deep, soil-toned brown skin. Nothing like the medium-brown skin that Andelion and his family members all had. And his eyes! Andelion had fallen into those gray-brown eyes, irreparably changed.

In that moment, Andelion decided he would join Tenemor’s harem and become one of the few mortals the god-king loved.

Available to $7/month, $10/month, and $25/month Patreon backers!

[iznsfw]

Any plans for Eunbi smut? Or Kkura? Or Hyewon?? Lots of love for iznsfw! ❤️❤️❤️

Mon Chef-D'oeuvre

IZ Days of Christmas: Day 3 - Kang Hyewon

IZ*ONE's Kang Hyewon x Male Reader Smut

4235 words

Categories: biography-style fic, muse!Hyewon, haunted_artist!Reader, cunnilingus, cockwarming, riding

T/W: suicide, cancer/sickness, self-deprecating thoughts

The smut parts are quite short, but I was leaning on a more emotional side of the story, so I apologize if it is not fulfilling.

MASTERPIECE AND MADNESS: A LOOK INTO THE LIFE OF KANG SEUNGWOON, THE MOURNFUL ARTIST

Excerpts from page 99-102

[...] Grief was a major theme in Kang’s paintings. In Secret Story of the Swan (figure 5.5), created in 1916 hung in the Louvre in 1920, he takes a twist on the classic children’s story of The Ugly Duckling. He depicts the mother of the duckling as a rejected, brutalized victim at the hands of her husband. When asked about how he took the harsh criticism from the public for this controversial artwork by the Korea Times, he stated: “There is no right or wrong way to tell a story [...] it is fiction, it does not matter. All of life is a fictional construct. I say the world was simply not prepared for it.”

He presented this artwork in muted colors as he did not have formal materials until his graduation from the Iz School of Creative Art in November 1917. But it is safe to say the painting presented the emotions as much as any vibrant colors could, although it was met by praise and critical acclaim as late as the birth of the twenty-first century.

Another artwork of his in the category of grief is Winter Poem (see Figure 5.6), made shortly after his muse and wife, Kang Hyewon, passed.

Kang first met her at the university from which he took art and graduated at the top of the class. She was described as an “innocent girl with a pure face”. Quoted from Kang from his journals, which were released to the public in 2014: “She had the beauty of an angel. I think she really was an angel. I felt that I did not deserve her.”

-

You graduated at the top of your class, with honors and awards for everything you have ever painted in school. They hung your artworks around and gladly presented them to the wealthy visitors looking to enroll their children in there, as if to say, "This is what your child can make if you enter them in our school." They all saw you as the best painter in class, the one with instinctive and natural talent that comes to you as easily as the wind.

So, why are you so sad?

The joy of these moments have lost their effect on you. Maybe it is because you are growing up. As one grows up, things slowly lose meaning. Birthdays are not as exciting as they used to be, and even if the events were big things such as this: your graduation, not one smile paints itself on your sullen face.

Your mother once told you that all things were temporary. “Gifts, birthdays, parties…” she had listed out for you the examples thoughtfully. “They’re all temporary just like we are. So you have to enjoy them while you can.” But you cannot take her advice, and now, you feel as if you have disappointed her.

The tears drop despite your efforts to remain a stoic face. But what is done is done. All you have to do is to go home with your diploma in hand, and probably encase it with glass. It will be a good thing to add to your resume as well as the credentials you list when people commission you. If, and only if, there is a slim possibility anyone would want you to make them something. You have never been the best artist out there, although you have strived to be.

“Seungwoon-ah!” Turn to the direction you hear the yell from to meet the happy face of Choi Yena. She is one of your fellow honor graduates. Her smile is wide as she asks you, “Are you coming to the grad party tonight?”

Choi Yena is a social butterfly. She can make friends with simply the use of her smile, adding to the fact that she is so naturally cheerful. Nothing can get to her. Sometimes, you wish you were born in her shoes, to have the luxury to be so effortlessly happy.

“I’ll pass,” you tell her. She was kind enough to invite you, the weird outcast, but you will have to turn her offer down. You are not good at big events. You either stutter too much or remain without a plus one. You have learned over the years to save yourself from your own embarrassment. “Congratulations, though!”

“You, too!” Yena beams. The anxious part of your heart tells you that the beam is caused by the fact that you are not going. The rational part tells you, of course, the rational side to the story: Yena is a bubbly girl. She will smile at anything, even if you present her the ugliest thing in the world. But you decide to believe the former, anyway. You always do.

You go away from all of the crowds. They are becoming too much for you. Everyone is jumping and screaming as a famous singer takes the stage and sings a song everyone is obsessed over. You recognize the song but cannot remember its title, but you know it is something along the lines of “I’m gonna make it smile, smile, smile away.” Something like that. You would have liked to ponder over it more, but right now, all you want to do is go home. Probably heat a hot chocolate and read a book before sleeping. It’s getting late, anyway.

You turn the curve to go to the parking spaces. Everything is jammed; every brand of vehicle in existence is cramped in the small, ugly space your university reserves for events like these. All the money in the world from profiting off of the tuition fees and they still cannot invest in bigger hectares. How pathetic.

The richer kids own the Ferraris parked cleanly in the corner, while yours is an old truck your dad used to drive around. You yearn for a better car like those; yours is almost broken down due to the engine, and it isn’t exactly a pretty sight. But you mustn’t let your jealousy overtake you. It is a terrible habit not too many people recognize.

And that is when you see her.

You are rarely starstruck. Models come into your classrooms everyday as references for your art. A lot of them enter in the nude, except for underwear. However, none of them had an effect on you like she did.

She is the girl standing near your car, observing its structure and wheels. She is dressed casually, despite the occasion. A lit cigarette hangs from between her full, pink lips. Her arms form two curves near her hips’. And in that moment, you forget all about what you said negatively about love at first sight. You swear you haven’t felt so stupidly in love.

She takes art classes on the side in the summer. She comes there sometimes, and you see her paint dutifully, pencil tucked behind her ear, to produce a pretty artwork. She rarely laughs nor smiles, but when she does, every person in the room is captured by the neck, including you.

She is the most beautiful girl in the world. And she introduces herself to you as Kang Hyewon.

You knew you were done for when you saw that smirk.

-

Kang Hyewon was born in Busan and resided there until she was thirteen years old. From then on, she moved to Seoul and took art classes while pursuing photography at the same university Seungwoon graduated from. They met after his graduation, and began dating casually after two months. Historians doubt this, saying that Seungwoon was a shy man and would have taken longer to charm her, but the journals are concrete evidence that support the widely accepted timeline. They married on 4 July 1922, on Hyewon's twenty-third birthday.

She inspired Seungwoon’s decision to make his first attempt at photography. His first photos consisted of Hyewon herself. According to Dr. Lee’s book on Han Seungwoon and his muses over the years, he “did not see why Hyewon was the photographer rather than the model herself; she was very easy on the eyes.”

Some of Kang’s photographs of Hyewon are shown below:

Contemplation, 1919

A Snack to Go By, 1920

A Camera for the camera, 1922

Seungwoon was not only skilled in painting, but also mathematics, geometry, and science. So it was not long until he had been talented in the field of photography as well. While Hyewon taught him the rules and aspects of it, he gave her advice on her drawings. She inspired and modelled for his one of his last paintings of her: Taste. The story behind the title of the painting or the artwork itself is unknown.

-

She has been your muse from the moment you first saw her.

Of course, the first thing that can be attributed to her being your muse is her undeniable beauty. It is kind of ridiculous how pretty Kang Hyewon is. Her features are soft, yet full: doe eyes, paired with two full lips, and a perfectly shaped nose that can make her look like a lovingly-carved statue if you used your gray paint on her. She looks good in anything you request her to wear, anything she wears when she enters your studio with a new inquiry about art. Any photograph taken of her comes out prettily. She is just naturally photogenic, naturally beautiful.

She is also naturally kind. You are the moody one in the pair, always grumping about a new day without a cup of coffee to start it. But Hyewon… Hyewon is patient. You try not to be too much for her, with the amount of space your art and materials take and all, yet she always tells you it is okay. It is fine, she says, because she knows you more than anyone and loves you more than anyone. She knows exactly what to make you calm down after a disappointed commissioner, or a day where things are simply too gloomy for you to go on. And you truly do not want to say it out loud in fears of being ridiculed, but you cannot live without her. She is your solace, and if, by any cursed chance, she disappears from this world, you would join her. You would challenge death to return her to you and laugh in its skull face. You would do anything, just to be by her side forever.

You never exaggerate except in paintings. You would honestly do all things those things for Hyewon if needed. You are a blessed man for being able to have her take your last name as her own, live in the same home as her and have her as your muse.

"These are gorgeous," she says. Hyewon looked around your studio, observing the hues and the dues, the bright and the dull. A lot of your drafts have filled the room, and you are a little embarrassed to have your wife look at them.

"You are far more gorgeous than any of them. There is a reason why people like my paintings of you more."

"My husband is so charming," says Hyewon, throwing you a sweet smile. It is only semi-sarcastic, and it looks pretty with her clothes for this shoot. She is wearing your blue polo under a white vest, along with two gray socks that are almost thigh-high. Her visuals affect you a little too much today, but you try to ignore it. Focus on applying the curves of her face on your semi-finished canvas. You have added stripes of brown to show the strands of Hyewon's hair, and alternated between white and light blue to draw her polo.

"How can I not be when you look so..."

Go over Hyewon's whole look and you get even more worked up. Her hair is styled into two buns, while her thighs are generously shown by the skirt that folds around them. Her eyes are wide and curious as she waits for you to continue. But she knows what you are going to say anyway. She is not as innocent as she used to be, being your muse and all.

She spreads her legs a little wider. "Why don't you come and charm me even more?"

Your palette and brush drop to the ground. Suddenly, your arms around Hyewon and you are diligently kissing her. Her lips always taste of sweetness. You can never go without her.

Hyewon cannot go without you either. Her firm kisses and caresses all over the sides of your head and body just show that if you love her, she loves you more. She loves your artwork and your talent and the sleepy face you have as you get up in the morning. She loves your diligence and your kisses and the taut bulge that rubs against her core. She loves you, and after you put her on one of your sturdier desks, you are determined to show that your adoration for her is greater.

Which is why you are glad to tear the vest off of her. She looks hotter in the polo alone, yet you take that one off as well. Her bare, beautiful breasts are presented to you. The brush you pick up once the idea entered your mind dances along their soft mountains. Hyewon lets out a soft whimper. Her sensitivity is at a great height at which she is rendered helpless; she does not know what to do without moaning.

"God, I love you, Hyem," you say breathily.

"Sounds like you're talking to my tits rather than me," laughs Hyewon.

"Fine. I love you." Kiss her again and again. She giggles in between moans. Start from her forehead and end on her breasts. Lick a stripe on their nipples, and squeeze them happily in your hands. "I love you more than anything."

You mean it. You mean it with every pump of blood your heart creates, with every bit of your troubled soul.

Hyewon's thighs shudder as the brush tickles and caresses them. You run kisses along each trail your brush has swiped upon. But soon you are kissing something else, and Hyewon is reduced to moans.

The only clue at what you are doing is her underwear that you have thrown carelessly near the doorway.

"Oh my god, hon," whispers Hyewon, trying to keep a straight face. She raises her head out of view with her eyes closed and a firm bite on her lower lip. "You always eat me so well."

Hyewon loves being eaten out. It is such a divine experience for her. Every session is like the first, when she was particularly delicate and inexperienced. That is why the first suck already brings forth a rush of wetness and her thighs squirm on the sides of your head.

Hyewon remains a beauty, even in her unruly state. Her soft moans are like comforting tunes, motivating even. They coax you to take her harder—lap a teasing tongue up between her folds and wiggle it around, give smacks on her ass above the blue skirt, and suck the pretty nub with more diligence. Hyewon's legs never stop their quivering, and her fingers never stop trying to push you away and keep you licking her. The onslaught of stimulation has her breathless; how does it still feel so new and good?

You spread her legs far apart. Afterwards, stop the thrust of your tongue and go with offering sharp laps on her clitoris. It pulses with need, and so does Hyewon's heart, which beats so fast against her chest that she feels weak. But you are too good at this. She can do nothing but moan and let you fire blunt flicks at her erogenous zone.

"Hmnn... hah! Oh my god, baby!"

She herself is surprised by how early she came. But it is too late; your tongue is already delved deep inside her spasming core, catching the continuous leak of feminine orgasm. And it still feels so good. Sparks keep her on the edge of the desk and her toes curl tightly in response to her rough climax.

Continue the waves of your tongue while you keep her closely to your lips. You are determined to take advantage of the heightened sensitivity of her orgasm and make her feel even more good. You kiss her clit as if it were her own full lips. Give it open-mouthed smooches. By now, Hyewon's moans, which are usually soft and almost silent, have grown and spread inside the studio like a wildfire. Her hips are a force to be reckoned with, bucking against your mouth in search for more and pushing its center into your face. It is no problem for you; you are glad to give more.

You would give anything, in fact, just to see your wife's beautiful and blissful face.

-

Seungwoon took many photographs: of birds, nature, and sometimes his paintings. Many of these were formally released, yet the photos of his wife, although many, were not as abundantly shown to people. He took many pictures of her and kept a large amount for himself. He explained that he felt as if the public did not deserve to see "another side" of Hyewon. Hyewon also said that she would like to keep it that way.

His penultimate photograph of her that we know of is one wherein she reads her books to him. He entitled it A timely read [...]

-

Hyewon's thighs are snug in your lap, yet your cock rather explores in the hole in between them. Its pleasure tells and makes you bounce your own thigh up and down, creating a fulfilling process of her hole squeezing onto your shaft as you enter and exit.

Her fingers lose their assured squeeze on the book. "H-hah, you really aren't going to make this easy for me, are you?" she asks in between moans.

Shake your head; of course not. With her slick entrance ready for the taking, you have all day to plug yourself inside of her.

"Just keep reading, Hyewon-ah," you tell her, sweetly nibbling on her earlobe. She whimpers quietly, but does as you say.

Your thigh rises and falls to let your cock probe further inside her. Her tight, sweet body writhes with each bounce, yet she keeps on reading. She is your good girl, after all. Your muse.

But muses are not as desperate for you as she is. No muse drops to her knees and begs for "just one touch, please," say Hyewon with fearful eyes. "Just this time."

Her breast is fit for pearls /

Hyewon opens her mouth to read once more. However, your hand finds her breast before she can get a word out. From there, she can only make soft, whimpery sounds. Her chirps of pleasure are as pleasant as any songbirds. You love Hyewon's voice. She sings softly round the house, smiling giddily when you catch her, yet she claims that she is as never as good as Jo Yuri, the famous singer at the time. But that doesn't matter to you. You love Hyewon's voice.

Most of all, you love Hyewon.

But I was not a "Diver"— /

It does not matter anyway into her neck. Several counts of delicate cries leave her full lips. But Hyewon loves it. She loves being yours. She loves the way you make her feel, especially with the sword you unsheathe and sheathe again in the depths of her core, as if you are not certain if you should keep it inside or not. She likes it better inside her anyway.

Her brow is fit for pearls /

But I have not a crest.

Hyewon leans back in your shoulder. Kiss her beaded brow lovingly. She has stopped trying to read. It is a setup challenge anyway, designed to make her fail. What, with your cock's rainy adventures in between her wet folds, it was not a fair game from the beginning. But she is your loser, and because you love her, you would give her the prize anyway.

Your lips and Hyewon's collide. Hers are full and soft; there is a reason why you love it when she drops to her knees for you. Both carnal pleasures are hard to choose from, but you'd rather kiss her till you are out of breath than have her mouth somewhere else.

She hums a song of bliss, and you fashion yours with a grunt. Her thighs shake above your lap. Your fingers catch the release she makes. It floods on your hand; Hyewon blushes at your touch lingering on her vagina, and cums even more. It is a flood that you do not mind having assault you.

Because...

Her heart is fit for home /

Not one of your artworks can live up to her undeniable beauty. A studio full of the world's greatest paintings can easily be beaten by her. She is one created with duty and love—a soft yet intimate masterpiece, whose colors you make yourself comfortable in, even as she rests your head on your heart and closes her eyes.

I—a sparrow—build there

Sweet of twigs and twine

My perennial nest.

The little bird sleeps.

-

[...] while his last photograph of her is given the name The last stroll in the yards of life.

-

You do not want to live anymore.

It is as simple as that. Death is something that you would not refuse after the inevitable death she will have to take on. In fact, you welcome it. You urge it to come early despite your youthful age. You challenge it, even. You spit in the face of death and tell him to come get a piece of you.

Before you know it, you are crying again. Your tears blot what was supposed to be a masterpiece, making the colors drip down unpleasantly the canvas into one, big, rainbow mess. But your current state is a bigger mess than your artwork, and so is your life. Your wife will soon leave you, and just thinking about it makes you want to leave first.

If only you did not love her so much. If you didn't, it would not be this hard for the two of you.

"Oh, honey."

Her voice is as sweet as the nickname, but it does not pacify you. Not when you know the arms bound around your quivering form will soon melt away. Not when the scent from her hair and neck directly under your nose will leave along with her, only letting behind few sprays throughout rooms that will drive you crazy for days on end.

And she is so fucking pretty that it hurts.

"Hey," she tells you softly, with a smile that betrays the fear that she feels as well. Her brown sweater is beautiful; it matches the colors of the crops and grass around you. Hyewon truly looks like the love of your life. "It's okay. I'm still here. I haven't gone anywhere yet."

Yet. The word hangs in your mind like a noose. You want to take its rounded syllable ropes and execute yourself with them.

"You look so beautiful, Hyewon," you say, wrapping your arms around her like she does. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too. I love you, too."

You know you sound pathetic, but you go on with it anyway. There is little time left in the hourglass, and each grain of sand counts. "C-can you promise me something?"

"Sure. What is it?"

"P-promise me that you will try to hold on for as long as you can. I—I know it sounds selfish, and it is, but I can't see a life without you, Hyewon. I just can't. I truly think I'll die without you."

Hyewon's eyes are blurred with tears now, just like you. She hates knowing that she can do nothing about you feeling terrible about her dying. She hates knowing that you have felt this way from the moment you knew about her death.

She herself is still not ready for it. She does not know when she will be. Hyewon will always have to look over her shoulder in the afterlife, making sure that you do not follow.

"I promise," she says quietly. She closes her eyes, takes in a deep breath, and exhales through her nose. "I promise with all my heart."

-

Kang Hyewon died on December 23rd, 1924. She succumbed to cancer the night before Seungwoon's first exhibition. It can be deduced that Seungwoon called off his exhibition to mourn his wife and have time for himself. He did not set a date for the day on which the exhibition was supposedly postponed to.

After a week, he shot himself in his studio and died alone. In his suicide note, he asked that he be buried next to his wife and his paintings are formally taken by the university. In 1945, the university showcased his paintings—the famous, the lesser known, finished and unfinished—in one of its biggest exhibitions.

It is safe to say that Kang Seungwoon's artwork maintains its provision of inspiration to people today. People now talk about his paintings, love, and his tragic death as a source of reassurance and motivation. His famous quote still makes its rounds today: "There is no sculpture or painting that has lived up to the chef-d'oeuvre of true love."

[uraichievents]

Monday, June 26th, 2023 - Sunday, July 2nd, 2023

~

General Info

What is UraIchi Week?

It’s a week-long fanworks event to promote the Urahara Kisuke x Kurosaki Ichigo ship. There’s no sign-up, it’s just for fun, and everybody can participate. Completed works and wips are both acceptable, and any type of fanwork (fanfic, fanart, gifsets, etc.) is welcome. NSFW and/or potentially trigger-y content is allowed, although please remember to tag your works properly.

The ship itself can be written romantically or platonically so long as it stars these two characters together in some way. Poly ships are also fine so long as Ichigo and Kisuke are still the focus of the fanwork. And crossovers and fusions are also allowed even if it isn’t one of the given prompts for the event. Basically, anything goes, and the only criteria is that it has to be UraIchi-centric.

Posting:

For those of you with Tumblr, you can tag your stuff with #UraIchi Week 2023 in the first five tags of your post. I’ll be tracking that tag so I’ll see it and reblog it to this blog. (If it’s been a few days since you posted and I still haven’t reblogged it, something probably went wrong, Tumblr’s not always reliable, so just shoot me an ask about it and I’ll reblog it.)

For those of you with AO3, I will create a collection a day or two before the event starts, and you’ll be able to add your work to the collection when you post. (I’ll toss up a notice for everyone once the collection is up.)

And of course we have our Discord server (link is on the sidebar) so if you want to come and talk about what you’re working on or you just want to chat, feel free to join us there!

At this point, the UraIchi Server has definitely gotten a lot bigger than just UraIchi, but we do still have channels dedicated to UraIchi events.

~ Themes

The votes are in and tallied so here are the results that everyone’s been waiting for! It’s your choice whether or not you want to make a fanwork that includes all the themes of that day, or a fanwork for each theme, or a fanwork for just one. You can make something for each day of the week or just one or two days. And if your fanwork doesn’t fit any of the themes, there’s a Creator’s Choice option on the last day so feel free to bring your own ideas to this event. All prompts can be interpreted any way you want as well, it’s entirely up to you, any extra bits I’ve added is just to help get those inspiration bunnies hopping.

An extra note about the sentence prompts: feel free to change the tenses and pronouns as it suits you. If you’re inspired by a sentence prompt, then of course you should include it in your fic (as opposed to the quote prompts which are just inspiration in a general-theme-of-your-work sort of way), but if you need to change the tense from present to past, or if you’re doing a genderbend fic and need to change the pronoun, that’s perfectly fine.

And now here are the prompts:

June 26th, 2023 - Day 1: the passage of time is a game-changer, for better or for worse

Time Travel AU / Dimension Travel AU

"At this point, I've died so many times, once more isn't going to make a difference."

Post-Canon AU

"This isn't your responsibility." / "It isn't yours either."

June 27th, 2023 - Day 2: o if only the dead could speak— you would hear the stories they could tell, of the terrible things we did for love

Loyalty Kink

"Him or the world? That's easy."

Oaths / Vows

"Everything I've ever let go of has claw marks on it." - David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest

June 28th, 2023 - Day 3: is there really so great a difference, between man and martyr and monster?

vs. Gotei 13 AU

"You could at least keep your pet killer on a leash."

Mafia AU

"Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you look when considering violence?" - Terry Pratchett, Going Postal

June 29th, 2023 - Day 4: i was never human to begin with (you made sure of that)

Feral

Eldritch/Horror/Supernatural Elements AU

Binding Contracts

"Is it better to out-monster the monster or to be quietly devoured?" - Friedrich Nietzsche

June 30th, 2023 - Day 5: our love was forged across battlefields (we fought for every bit of it, every single day)

Soulmates AU

"I want you to stay. Am I still not being clear enough?"

Arranged Marriage AU

"We accept the love we think we deserve." - Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower

July 1st, 2023 - Day 6: redemption or destruction— which one will you be to me?

Touch-Starved Character(s)

"I've forgotten how to be kind."

Mask

"I desire the things that will destroy me in the end." - Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

July 2nd, 2023 - Day 7:

Creator’s Choice!

[theaveragepsychoticbitch]

HELL YES. Poseidon with a lover who has brown eyes --and he's absolutely crazy for her 🤭

Love brown eyes. I don't know how long I'll be able to make this, but being able to write again is nice♡

Highkey forgot my setup, but GN!Reader x Poseidon || SFW || Warnings for: Nothing. Just brown eye appreciation <3 [Under the cut for my own convenience lmaoo]

Yall I forgot to add tags I'm so😭

As soon as Poseidon awakes, he starts his morning routine.

First, he showers. He uses your good shampoo and conditioner, despite your demands for him to "get out of your stuff."

Doubling down, he uses your lotions and creams as well. He tells himself "it's because a true God bends to no one's will." That "as the god of gods, he can and shall use anything under his own palace's roof."

You sigh whenever he says these. You both know he simply enjoys smelling like you.

Next, he goes to breakfast. He eats his fill, refraining from killing any servants out of concern the screams will wake you.

Then supervises as your breakfast is cooked, picking out each ingredient himself, down to the eggs used in your omelet.

Here, his anticipation truly starts to build. An hour before sunrise, he starts to work. Settling in his office, he sets a timer and tries to spend at least half of the time actually working. Yet, as the minutes dwindle, and the sun's rays begin to peak over the horizon, the stoic Sea God's heart races in true.

This was it, this is what he's been waiting for.

He left the alarm ringing, racing shamelessly to your shared bedroom where the first ray of sunlight broke through the crack in the curtains, and his heart stutters in its beats as you slowly blink open your eyes.

Love. Love and adoration fills him as the sun brings your eyes to life, swirling browns flecked with heavenly gold. A rare shiver runs down his spine as you fix him in place with that gaze of yours, time itself coming to a stop as the world melts down to nothing but the deepest depths of your irises.

He sucks in a hard breath, having forgotten to breath. He rights himself, hoping his featureless mask maintained itself even as he approached the mortal who captured his heart.

He sits down, the edge of the bed dipping under his weight. He holds his hand out, the one he promised to always protect you with, and you lean into it. Batting your lashes lovingly, the shadows created darken the golden browns to a dark chocolate color, deep and mesmerizing.

Mesmerized... yes, that's what he was. Mesmerized by how gorgeous you are, and amazed by how a single set of eyes can enchant him in so many different ways. A moment's glance convinces him you stole his soul; and not so deep down, he thinks, 'I wouldn't mind if they stole it... long as it feels like this.'

In a snap, the sunlight is gone, and your eyes return to they're normal shade of brown. And even in this state, he finds them beautiful. Warm, like coming home; comforting, like an embrace.

You blink, slowly, staring at him with equal adoration. "Up early again I see?" His heart stutters in its beats, the "sleep", having yet to leave your voice, made it soft and quiet, and so, so beautiful.

He hums, guiding you from the bed with gentle hands. "Then you must be stacked work-wise... I'll help after I eat. You can go ahead and return-"

"No."

The two of you pause as you enter the bathroom, locking eyes once more. "...I'll stay here." With you.

The crash of a strong wave can be heard in the background, and slowly, you smile. Words leave your lips, drowned out by the sound of the ocean that suddenly came to life in the background.

But any being alive heard the king of the seas voice in the waves as he kissed his lover and whispered a gentle, "Love you too."

------

A/N: MY PHONES ON 7 PERCENT AHHHH

Yes I know I haven't written in like six years yes I know this isn't as quality as it could've been YES I KNOW I should actually write since this is literally a writing blog but I'm trying okay leave me alone😔

Anyways love yall, be nice and maybe you'll see another boobie post:D love yalllll

[reverieparacosm]

Art's Silent Language (Lukai Hwei x GN!Reader)

Warnings: none, just a lot of fluff :>

Chapter 1: The Color of Love

(part 2 here)

Summary: In the art studio, Hwei and you discover similarities in your works, leading to a mutual fascination. As you observe each other from afar, an unspoken connection begins to emerge. Hwei's assistance with your artwork adds tension, as you both yearn to unravel the enigmatic depths of each other's artistic abilities.

In the hushed sanctuary of the art studio at the Temple of Koyehn, a tiny Ionian island nestled in the embrace of the cerulean sea, Hwei stands before his canvas, brush in hand. Soft sunlight streams through the stained glass windows, casting an ethereal glow upon him and illuminating the worn wooden floors beneath his feet.

The delicate hues dances upon his face like whispers of forgotten dreams. His eyes, ever-shifting in color, mirror the emotions that churn within his soul. In this sacred space, where art transcends mere expression and becomes a language of its own, Hwei feels an inexplicable sense of belonging.

His fingertips, stained with vibrant colors, hover hesitantly over the canvas, as if hesitant to disturb the ethereal beauty that his mind's eye has conjured. A symphony of emotions swirls within him - curiosity intertwines with anticipation, while a gentle flame of excitement flickers in the depths of his being.

Hwei's gaze wanders to you, while you are engrossed in your own artistic endeavor. Curiosity sparkles in his eyes as he observes your concentrated expression. Recognizing your commitment to your craft, he admires the dedication and passion evident in your focused brushstrokes.

As Hwei watches, he catches glimpses of the artwork taking shape under your skillful hand. His interest piqued; he finds himself drawn to the subject matter that unfolds before him. With each stroke, you bring to life a scene that echoes the beauty of nature, much like Hwei's own creations.

The air in the studio seems to hold its breath as Hwei and you secretly observe each other in a silent dialogue of curiosity and wonder.

Hwei's heart quickens with an inexplicable sense of familiarity, as if the universe had conspired to bring you together in this space.

Noticing your intricate details, Hwei's fascination is evident as he gazes at your drawn bridge. He appreciates the craftsmanship, recognizing the sturdy blend with nature. His admiration widens at the skillful portrayal of the water's surface, reflecting vibrant water lilies and creating tranquility. The way you capture the delicate ripples, and the play of light creates a sense of peace, inviting the viewer to immerse themselves in the scene.

Hwei marvels at the lush foliage and attention to detail, bringing the natural world to life. The captivating water lilies, with their delicate beauty and vibrant colors, draw Hwei's attention, appearing almost lifelike on the canvas.

As an invisible force that defies explanation draws him closer, Hwei's heart stutters in his chest. Clearing his throat, he breaks the stillness of the studio with a voice barely more than a whisper.

"You...your art," Hwei begins, his voice trembling with awe.

He takes a hesitant step closer, his eyes locked on your masterpiece. The air between you seems to shimmer with an invisible energy, as if the very essence of creativity has woven itself into the fabric of your hearts.

You glance up from your work, your gaze meeting Hwei's with an intensity that mirrors his own.

What Hwei doesn't know is that you admire him. You have been observing him from afar for some time now and you see him as one of the best artists of your time. The way he expresses his art is breathtaking. But you have the feeling that he is holding back.

He seems to be hiding something.

He paints so beautifully. The inside of his mind must be a terrible place.

You study his work within the walls of your secret art sanctuary. Within the intricate brushstrokes and vivid colors, you discovered a hidden depth in Hwei's art. Yet, a sense of caution lingers within you. The last thing you want is to come across as weird or creepy, especially to someone whose talent and passion you admire so deeply.

As the allure of Hwei's art becomes increasingly irresistible, the secret admiration within you reaches a tipping point. The desire to confront the artist, to express the profound impact his work has had on your own soul, grows too strong to ignore. The time for secrecy and hidden admiration has come to an end.

But the fact that you are studying his art should remain your own little secret - for now.

He finds himself caught in the depths of your gaze, his breath hitching in his chest. You feel a gentle fluttering in the depths of your soul as you meet Hwei's searching eyes, a magnetic pull drawing you closer to him.

His eyes are a light pink with a mix of blue.

"Can I help you?" you ask.

"I... I've been watching you, admiring your work," Hwei confesses, his voice filled with admiration. "Your art is like nothing I've ever seen before. It's powerful, evocative, and it speaks to something deep within me."

A soft smile tugs at the corners of your lips, a glimmer of appreciation sparkling in your eyes.

"I've seen your art too," you reply, your voice gentle yet filled with sincerity. "There's a rawness, a vulnerability to your work that resonates with me. But I sense that there's something you're holding back, something you're afraid to fully express."

Hwei's eyes widen in surprise, his breath hitching in his chest. He had never expected you to perceive the hidden layers of his art, the unspoken emotions he had concealed within his creations.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you realize that you may have spoken too boldly, revealing more than you intended. The desire to confront Hwei directly about your findings in his art was not your initial intention.

"You can see that?" he says, his voice filled with a mix of astonishment and relief.

You nod, your gaze filled with understanding. "Art has a way of revealing truths, even the ones we try to keep hidden. And I believe that true artistic growth comes from embracing those truths, no matter how difficult they may be."

Hwei's pulse quickens as your words sink in. The invisible barrier that had held him back, the fear of exposing his innermost self to the world, begins to crumble.

"I've been afraid," he admits. "Afraid of being seen, of being judged, of exposing the rawest parts of myself. But seeing your art, feeling the connection it evokes, I can't help but want to break free from those chains."

"Art is a journey, Hwei," you say softly, your voice carrying a soothing warmth. "The crashing waves care not for who hears their roar, and towering peaks feel no shame in blocking the sun's gaze. So too should you refrain from diminishing your brilliance or talents to appease the discomfort of others. As the deep blue sea and high stone sentinels remain true to their nature without apology, so should you remain devoted to your authentic self without need for pardon."

With his gaze lingering on the canvas before him, Hwei's eyes shift hues like the ever-changing tides. With vulnerability in his voice, he begins recounting the pivotal moment that shapes his journey.

"I find solace in the art form known as paint magic," Hwei begins, his voice carrying a weight of both reverence and caution. "It is a medium that allows me to influence the emotions of those who behold my creations - a power that demands strict control and discipline."

He pauses, his expression clouded with a mingling of regret and longing. "The world doesn’t make sense, so why should I paint artworks that do? I find myself teetering on the edge of a precipice."

The human mind is truly the scariest thing of all.

The weight of Hwei's confession lingers in the air, carried by lingering words. Continuing, remorse tinges his voice. "During a demonstration for the temple masters, I have painted Koyehn's sea. I lost control."

Hwei's gaze falls upon his artwork. He studies the painting intently, his critical eye taking in every brushstroke and detail. The frown on his face deepens, revealing a hint of dissatisfaction with his own creation.

As he contemplates his work, Hwei's attention is diverted by the sight of birds gracefully soaring through the vast expanse of the sky. A wistful expression crosses his face, tinged with a touch of envy for the freedom these winged creatures possess.

Hwei absentmindedly reaches up to play with his hair.

The memory haunts him still, the tempestuous sea of emotions threatening to drown his resolve. "My awakening infuriates the temple masters," Hwei confesses, his voice trembling with fear. "They recognize the potential danger of such unleashed power. While they cannot bear to banish their heir, they emphasize the weight of my responsibilities, the need to temper my abilities."

A shadow of sadness crosses Hwei's face as he recalls the aftermath of that moment. "Haunted yet fascinated by the depths of my own power, I continue to explore in secret, under the cover of night. The fear of my full potential being exposed consumes me.”

Enthralled by the captivating sight of the iris flower beside him, Hwei's gaze becomes fixated upon its exquisite beauty. As his fingers brush against the delicate petals, a palpable sense of melancholy washes over him, causing his heart to sink. The vibrant colors that once adorned the flower begin to slowly fade, as if drained of their vitality by his very touch.

With a tinge of sorrow, he observes as the once-vibrant colors of the iris gradually lose their brilliance, their fading hues catching his attention. The petals, once bursting with life, now appear to wilt and wither, as if in response to his mere touch. Hwei's fingertips, lingering momentarily against the delicate bloom, withdraw instinctively as he realizes the unintended effect his presence has had on the flower's vitality.

Hwei, taken aback by the unintended consequence of his presence, quickly withdraws his hand, as if fearing further damage to the delicate bloom. A mixture of wonder and regret flickers in Hwei's eyes as he turns his gaze away from the fading iris. His gaze meets you again.

"I wish, they would only take as I am. For me, I paint because it makes me feel like someone's listening - or I am finally listening to myself," Hwei admits, his voice etched with longing.

There is a profound sadness in Hwei's eyes, a reflection of the burden he carries. He longs for the day when he can fully embrace his power without the fear of its consequences, when he can share his artistry with the world without reservation. But until then, he remains a hesitant guardian of his own potential, forever grappling with the delicate dance between restraint and liberation.

You listen intently, captivated by Hwei's tale and the depth of his struggle. As the weight of his words settles upon you, you feel a surge of empathy for his predicament.

You think to yourself; Hwei, you cannot make everyone think and feel as deeply as you do. This is your tragedy, because you understand them, but they do not understand you.

But you would never say that out loud.

There is nothing more intimate in life than being understood.

"Why do you share this with me?" you ask, your voice filled with genuine curiosity. "Why do you entrust me with the knowledge of your fears and the secrets of your power? Is there something you seek or hope to find in our conversation?"

Hwei takes a moment to consider your question, his eyes searching your face for a connection. A faint smile tugs at the corners of his lips, gratitude mingled with a hint of relief.

Nervously, he touches his neck, "I think I fall a little bit in love with anyone who shows me their soul," Hwei whispers, his voice soft yet filled with a hint of longing. His gaze bores into the depths of your eyes, searching for that rawness, that unguarded essence that he so deeply appreciates.

Aware of the challenges you encounter due to your rebellious nature, constantly sketching objects that displease the temple masters, he understands the troubles you face. The thought of your provocative drawings excites him, as he admires your audacity and willingness to challenge the norms. Hwei finds comfort in the fact that you are unafraid to express yourself, even if it means facing consequences.

He pauses, allowing the weight of his words to sink in before continuing. "I have carried the weight of my fears and the burden of my power alone for far too long. But in sharing my story with you, I find solace in the possibility that I am not alone in this world."

Unable to resist the temptation, you finally ask, your voice betraying a hint of nervousness, "Hwei, would you... would you mind helping me with my artwork? Your skills are extraordinary."

Hwei moves closer, his footsteps echoing softly in the studio.

As you watch Hwei walking gracefully towards you, you couldn't help but be captivated by his exquisite beauty. What caught your attention the most is his stunning teal hair, a vibrant hue that seems to shimmer under the light.

Hwei's hair cascades down in soft waves, framing his face perfectly and drawing attention to his striking features. It was a color unlike any you had seen before, reminiscent of a tranquil ocean on a sunny day.

You notice Hwei's choice of attire - a comfortable loose tunic that drapes effortlessly over his slender frame. The fabric seems to embrace him, allowing for freedom of movement while still maintaining an air of elegance.

In that moment, you couldn't help but admire Hwei's ability to effortlessly blend beauty and comfort.

As he approaches, you could feel his warm breath on the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. His proximity is both exhilarating and unnerving, stirring a mix of anticipation and unease within you.

Without a word, Hwei gently reaches out, his fingers barely grazing your arm before moving to rest on your hand. The touch is light, yet it sends a surge of electricity coursing through your veins. His touch guides your trembling hand towards the canvas, his movements fluid and confident.

"Let your instincts guide you," he murmurs, his voice as soothing as a whisper. "Feel the brush in your hand, let the colors come alive. I don’t believe that I am of much help, but I can try my best."

Hwei continues to guide your hand, a delicate dance unfolds. His touch is both commanding and delicate, as if he holds the secret to unlocking the depths of your creativity. With each stroke, your apprehension melts away, replaced by a newfound confidence that surges through your fingertips.

During your silent collaboration, Hwei's voice breaks the silence once more.

"I can feel your breath quicken," he says, his voice laced with intrigue. "You're becoming nervous."

His observation struck a chord deep within you, and you realize he has seen through the façade of composure you desperately tried to maintain. Your heart pounds in your chest, each beat echoing the intensity of the moment. The realization that Hwei's presence has stirred such a profound effect on you only serves to heighten your anxiety.

As Hwei senses the nervousness radiating from you, he puts his hands on your shoulder.

With a gentle movement, Hwei turns you to face him, his eyes locking with yours in a soft yet reassuring gaze. He reaches out and takes both of your hands in his, his touch warm and comforting.

The connection between you deepens as he leans in closer, his breath mingling with yours in a shared rhythm.

"Take a deep breath," Hwei whispers softly, his breath brushing against your ear. His fingertips trace intricate patterns across your palm, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

As the session draws to a close, your artwork now transforms, Hwei releases his hold on your hand. You turn to face him, your voice a mere whisper, "Thank you, Hwei. Your guidance... it's been an incredible experience."

A knowing smile tugs at Hwei's lips as he regards you, his eyes filled with appreciation and something deeper, something you couldn't quite understand.

"You have a talent within you, waiting to be unleashed," he replies, his voice rich with admiration. "Embrace it, and let it carry you to places you never imagined."

Just as you are lost in the flow of creation, a sudden interruption shatters the tranquility. A temple member, dressed in customary robes, rushes into the studio, his face etched with urgency.

"Hwei," the temple member calls out, his voice breathless. "You are needed immediately. An important matter requires your presence."

Hwei's expression shifts, surprise and concern washing over his face. He glances at you, his eyes filled with regret, as if he wishes he could stay longer.

"I apologize," Hwei says, his voice tinged with disappointment. "It seems duty calls. There are matters within the temple that require my attention."

You nod, understanding the weight of his responsibilities. Though a pang of sadness tugs at your heart, you know that Hwei's commitment to his role is unwavering.

"I understand," you reply, your voice filled with understanding. "Your duty comes first."

Hwei's gaze softens as he takes a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently brush against your cheek. His touch lingers for a moment, as if imprinting the memory of his presence upon your skin.

"I will return as soon as I can," he whispers, his voice filled with a promise. "Until then, continue to let your art speak the language of your heart.”

With a final, lingering look, Hwei turns and follows the temple member out of the studio, leaving you with emotions swirling within you.

And, for a moment, you see the color of love.

In his eyes.

[tgrailwar]

Tumblr Holy Grail War, Another End: Night 1 (ALL SERVANTS)

Team Foreigner got Van Gogh's composure to 0! Something is happening!

-

Laughter.

Echoing laugher. Triumphant laughter. The laughter of a Servant who had lost everything. The laughter of a Servant who had gained everything.

Van Gogh. A patchwork Servant from beyond the void. Laughed.

VAN GOGH: "Ah... my deception ends here. Look upon 'Van Gogh'... the false Servant named Van Gogh... isn't it horrible? Isn't it beautiful? Ahaha... AHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

A pulse emanating from the Servant shattered the bounds of the digital landscape that had been called 'reality'. This was the power of the Foreigner-class. The true power of the Foreigner-class, when deprived of the chains of 'logic' that bound it.

Six other Servants were hit by the pulse, the world around them collapsing, throwing them into hell. Havoc overwhelming. Chaos overflowing. A wave of utter madness, grabbing the minds of the enemy Servants and rending them asunder.

First, the Assassin.

Assassin: "...Where the hell am I... what the hell is that?!"

The Assassin drew his sword, uncharacteristic fear filling his mind and body. A shadow formed, vaguely in the shape of a Servant, unsettlingly enough. It lunged forward, as he stepped back, trying to defend himself as more shadows appeared.

Shadows from his peripheral, shadows that he couldn't see but hear, shadows that he couldn't hear but see.

Shadows that weren't real.

Shadows that were far too real.

Then, the Rider.

Rider: "Back off! Get away from me!"

He yelled, trying to add as much authority as he could as the false illusions patched together by real madness inched closer.

Archer: "...You're not real! You're an illusion, like Caster's Noble Phantasm!"

He yelled, as he tried to lie to himself, fingers rending at the stark white of his clothing, causing it to dye red. His own fingertips rent asunder as the skin on them began to wear down and redden as he scratched and screamed at nothing.

Saber: "Come at me! I'll cut you to pieces!"

She yelled, her sword swiping forward. It drew blood, before she screamed, clutching at her own shoulder as it bled profusely as it was struck in an identical spot.

Lancer: "Heh. You think you're cute, huh? We'll see how cute you think you are when this spear goes right through you!"

...An alliance, formerly airtight, splintered in seconds by the maddened wave of the unleashed Foreigner. Their identities began to crumble, as they engaged in bloody warfare.

Only two Servants stood in the wave unaffected. Perhaps both of them had already reached the crux of their madness to begin with, or perhaps they had already witnessed hell, and so this void was nothing but a reprieve.

Tortured Youth: "...So this is what you can do, Foreigner? I hope you're not plannin' on killin' me like the others?"

Patchwork Servant: "Ehehehe! Play with me, Avenger! Spin with me! Dance with me! Sing with me! Paint with me! Create with me! Don't mind the pain! Thrash and scream! Let's kill each other, and use our blood to repaint the world!"

Tortured Youth: "...Thought so. And here I wasted that mana boosting you up. Well, that's just my luck. Whatever, this little game sounds like fun either way. Let's play, Foreigner!"

EVENT: [ VOID SPACE ARMAGEDDON ]

Reality itself began to unravel, already thin threads snapping apart under the pressure of the Foreigner-class Servant!

Team Foreigner got Van Gogh's composure to 0! Team Foreigner used 'Wave of Madness'! With Van Gogh's composure at 0, she temporarily gains access to all of her skills until the battle ends!

Alliances are temporarily severed within Void Space! It's utter chaos! This is a battle for survival!

If Van Gogh wins first place, she'll inflict 2 wounds on every Servant!

If Van Gogh doesn't get first, then any Servant that scores under Van Gogh will sustain 1 wound!

Any non-Foreigner-class Servant that ends up in last place will sustain 3 wounds and be destroyed instantly!

Any non-Foreigner-class Servant that ends up above Van Gogh will be safe!

If Van Gogh gets last place, she'll sustain 3 wounds, but will lash out and inflict 1 wound on every Servant! if she gets anything other than 1st, she'll simply sustain 1 wound!

Skills such as 'Battle Continuation' or 'Independent Action' are nullified! Servants who perish in Void Space are gone!

Van Gogh's 'Wave of Madness' gives every other Servant a -10% demerit! …Angra Mainyu's been spared from the demerit?!

Angra Mainyu gave Van Gogh a +5% boost!

Musashi and Arjuna have been cursed by 'Soul of the Water Channels'! They have a -3% demerit for this round! This will stack with the current application of 'Soul of the Water Channels', meaning Musashi and Arjuna have -6%, and the others have -3%!

Final Score Augmentations:

Van Gogh: +41% Angra Mainyu: -40% Miyamoto Musashi: -29% Mandricardo: -36% Okada Izou: -36% Cu Chulainn: -21% Arjuna: -39%

Active Servant Skills and Current Statuses:

Van Gogh (Foreigner):

Het Gele Huis (A+) - When winning first place in a Free-for-All, inflict 2 wounds on the bottom Servant, rather than just one. If engaged in a one-on-one, inflict 2 wounds instead of one upon victory. Additionally, reduce Servant bonuses by 10%, and if the gap between scores is greater than 35% when winning, recover from a 'wound'.

Soul of the Water Channels (EX) - When fighting in a free-for-all, gain a +10% boost, and inflict a persistent 3% demerit on enemy Servants for this round and the next. When fighting one-on-one, gain a +5% boost, and inflict a -2% demerit to them for this round and the next.

Void Space Fine Arts (B+) - If receiving a demerit from enemies larger than 10%, convert it into a +10% boost. Gain a +5% boost, and add another +3% if going against a Servant who has been cursed by the demerit from 'Soul of the Water Channels'. Gain the ability to sustain one more wound than normal.

Existence Outside the Domain (A) - Gain an immunity from demerits, and also reduce enemy Servant boosts by 5%.

Insanity (C) - Gain a +5% boost.

Item Construction (B-) - Lower the victory gap for the 'recovery effect' of "Het Gule Huis" from 35% to 25%.

Divinity (B+) - Lower enemy boosts by -5%, and increase own buffs by 3%.

Curse of Sunflower (A) - When on her final wound, gain a +7% boost.

Van Gogh has [2/7] wounds!

Angra Mainyu (Avenger)

Zarich: Right Fang Grinder (C) - Reduce enemy Servant boosts by -3%.

Tawrich: Left Fang Grinder (C) - Gain a +3% attack boost.

Annihilation Wish (A) - When fully healed, gain a -20% demerit to his final score. With one wound, the demerit is reduced to -10%. With two wounds, the demerit is changed to a +20% boost.

Grail Curse, All The World's Evils (EX) - When part of a battle that results in a Servant dying, absorb a part of their essence. Take a random one of their combat skills for Avenger's own use and recover one Command Spell. Those are the only effects. ...Probably.

Angra Mainyu is uninjured!

Miyamoto Musashi (Saber)

Heavenly Demonic Thundering Eye (EX) - When fighting in a free-for-all, gain +10% to your final score, and reduce their scores by -5%. If fighting a Servant one-on-one, if the gap between scores is above 20%, inflict 2 wounds.

Battle Continuation (EX) - If she loses a confrontation while on her final wound, if there's only a 10% difference between the scores of her and her opponent (non-allied Servant), she can slip out unscathed.

Musashi is on her last wound! 'Battle Continuation EX' is nullified within Void Space!

Mandricardo (Rider)

Brigliadoro's Neigh (A) - Increases the Rider-class trait to +5% rather than +3% in free-for-all brawls.

Armor of the Nine Worthies (A) - When attacked, reduces the amount of the Servant's final combat poll result by 10%.

Mandricardo has [1/3] wounds!

Okada Izou (Assassin)

Man-Slayer (A) - When fighting a Servant that possesses a wound, gain a +3% boost. When fighting a Servant that possesses 2 wounds, gain +5% instead.

Izou has [1/3] wounds!

Cu Chulainn (Lancer)

Rune Magecraft (B) - When fighting in a free-for-all, gain a +5% to combat score results. Additionally, any skills that reduce scores against Lancer will have their effectiveness reduced by 1%.

Battle Continuation (A) - Is able to take 4 'wounds' instead of the normal 3. On his last ‘wound’, gain a permanent +5% boost to final combat poll results.

Protection from Arrows (B) - When going against an Archer, Caster or Assassin-class Servant, gain a +5% to final combat poll results, and reduce their results by 5% as well.

Cu Chulainn has [2/4] wounds!

Arjuna (Archer)

Hero of the Endowed (A) - If fighting an enemy Servant, and the difference between scores is within 3%, take the win.

Mana Burst (Flame) (A) - Gain a +8% boost to combat poll results when attacked during 'playing defensively', rather than +3%. When not ‘playing defensively’, gains a 5% boost to final combat poll results instead.

Independent Action (A) - After receiving his third 'wound', he has one more round to attempt to attack before fading away. (Cannot be healed during this period via Command Spell).

Arjuna is on his final wound! Independent Action is nullified by Void Space!

[mushroom-for-art]

@eeveelutiontwos Xiangliu: The Azuretwo stared quietly at Vismay for a good long moment, dark pink tail swishing behind her. When she finally spoke, it was to say:

"You are very beautiful."

Another moment of silence.

"...Are you like me? I have a purpose I was created for. Do you have one?" While the sentence could come off badly in text, Xiangliu's voice held only genuine curiosity.

The old mew startled slightly at her compliment ears up before lowering in a bashful manner mouth falling into a smile, "You are too kind dearest one," one of his top paws idly brushed through the fur of his chest, "although the sun and ages have weathered my form I accept your compliment with gratitude and warmth," he moved in his float to bow to her in show of gratitude and general display of his manners paws moving in a flourish before righting himself to observe her in great intrigue.

"Forgive me if this is rude but you are a mewtwo correct?" Moving around her carefully, "my and something else yes I sense it, Eevee dna I'm sure," a paw to his mouth in thoughts before remembering himself, "ah I apologise but I believe I have not had the honor of this form of evolution in my own world, dragon typing yes?"

"You are if I may say far more beautiful than I, I am honored to be in your company. Having the opportunity to become even only briefly aware of the vast variables of evolution across the multiverses meeting pokemon that I may never meet back home, it's a privilege to always be learning so thank you." His voice carried so much wonder and warmth for having met her.

Though it was somewhat obvious they were avoiding her question using the opportunity of meeting her and a new eeveelution to keep the conversation away.

The guilt however of not answering her question when it was likely she was trying to reach out and bond with an individual she believed to be like herself caught him first before she had to ask again or believed she may have crossed a boundary. He gave a sad smile to her as he exhaled from his nose slowly.

"I'm afraid I was created without a true purpose, just like how through random variable your world has a dragon evolution of Eevee, random variables led to my existence, it was purely chance I'm here now." One of their ears moves to the side then righted itself as he thought, "I was given tasks of course and purpose but," ears flattened again in sadness their voice faltered cracking until it quietened having miscalculated how ready for the discussion he was. He offered a sad shy smile of apology.

Clearing their throat coughing into a paw they regained their voice and spoke again, "I do what I can in the meantime, I help keep the dna of lost pokemon stored," he patted his chest above his heart, "so they're never truly gone even if extinct, reintroducing older dna into species for biodiversity, typical mew work even if I'm not technically," he moved his head in sort of a wobble not finishing the sentence since it was pretty evident he wasn't a traditional mew by any means.

"While, I know that was likely not the answer you expected may I ask about your purpose? I would love to hear to be enlightened about you and the world you reside in, I'm aware of mewtwo often having, complicated origins, perhaps yours are kinder than what I know?"

Ft Vismay sketch reaction to compliment I was too lazy to finish because giving me a hard time and too cowardly to add in main post but please behold the silly getting surprised