#He looks so beautiful here.. right wicked majestic ass man..

[spicy-gf-archive]

MY BOYFRIEND 🥹🥹🥹🥹

[seekingthestars]

sarah watches the untamed: liveblogging adventures, part fourteen episode 25 + 26

(aka: there are so many feelings)

look where is wen ning, when will this wen ning drought be over, my crops are dying, it was a crap day and i need the specific healing energy that only a baby angel has

anyway, episode 25!

where at least we’re getting more of sexy older brother GOOD i love him (and also his hair piece, xichen out here being majestic always). also meng yao’s lil hat makes me laugh sometimes, why is he the only one who has a hat!

the sleeve swish is in lotus pier (which is SO PRETTY i’m just gonna keep saying that bc it IS)

his sudden “that’s great!!!” was so outside of his normal composed character it caught me off guard lol

WUXIAN “Am I that handsome?” i know you being sassy but yes. you are.

okay this is so funny to me, it looks like there are more soldiers for this night hunt than they had when they were lining up for literal war XDD

ohhhh wangji’s new blue outfit is very pretty 

meng yao: “I’m sure you all already know the rules but I will explain them again.” me: oh thank god bc i sure did not also his dimples are just cute

oh wait shit what the heck

the dimples are less cute when he’s like “lol and if you miss you’re gonna kill one of these prisoners we have lined up in front of the targets lolol” o.o WHY ARE PEOPLE OKAY WITH THIS??? WHAT????

kick ass and takes names, wuxian!!!!!!!!

well that was very sexy, thank you wuxian omg (ღ′◡‵)

wow okay jiang cheng looking like a whole majestic snack in this dark-blue-with-purple-accents-and-cape-with-the-pretty-lotus-hair-piece outfit bless

“I once treated you as my lifelong confidant.” “I still am.” CUE MY TEARS AND BREAKING HEART

“What’s the fun if no one gets hurt?” well THAT’S a jerk thing to say

that one uppity member of the jin clan who’s always hanging around zixuan and being a lil prick is annoying

wuxian when he’s being all protective and angry is hot tbh

“Let’s see if anything will follow your sound.” / “If I don’t know what's called capability, then please show me yours. Astonish me, please.” I LOVE SASSY WUXIAN, STICK IT TO HIM BB

the mom being all like “oh don’t be angry yanli” as if she didn’t just see that asshole from her own clan being a complete jerk and saying all those terrible things about wuxian SHE HAS EVERY RIGHT TO BE ANGRYYYYY

oh my god that guy just said there were more than 5,000 participants in the hunt, WHERE. TELL ME WHERE THERE WERE 5,000, there were like 50 people at opening ceremony, tops

“It’s not his fault you can’t hunt the prey.” FRICK YEAH YOU TELL THEM YANLI I LOVE YOU she is being such a badass

aaaaand wx crying makes my heart crack :(

HOW DARE THE MOM BE LIKE “HE HAS WICKED ENERGY, STAY AWAY FROM HIM” THEY’RE SIBLINGS AND THEY LOVE EACH OTHER YOU STAY OUT OF THEIR BUSINESS sorry getting emotional today, don’t hurt my bb

WEN QING???????

WANGJI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! W A N G J I!!!!!!!!!!

episode 26:

the pretty and very good boy (◡‿◡✿)

xichen is so pretty and kind and i love his majestic deer antler headpiece and it just makes me happy when i see him on screen

zixun being all “if they don’t drink then they look down on me!” like shut UP, you’re the one being SUPER obnoxious bc you’re not being respectful of lan clan rule of not drinking!!!! so shut up!!!!! i wanna take wx’s flute and whack you in the head!!

wow he’s just such an ass

6 to 10 hours for a banquet? even as a joke that’s like my worst nightmare pls

WEN NING??????

HE HURT WEN NING I WILL NEVER FORGIVE HIM

oh SHIT wuxian “without the wen clan do you think the jin clan is just supposed to take its place naturally” BOY DID NOT COME TO PLAAAAY, CALL HIM OUT god i love him

poor jiang cheng looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm lol

I LITERALLY HATE ZIXUN OR WHATEVER HIS NAME IS

tbh that entire exchange was just very sexy on wuxian’s part, hello it’s been a long day and my filter is falling apart, he’s a spicy hot man

wen qing ;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

oh my god wen ning i’m going to literally cry

this is so horrible omg how could they do this ;;;;;;;

when i said i wanted wen ning back this is not what i meant, i will never forgive them ;;;;; and ;;;; the shot of him holding the pouch from wx, my heart is literally breaking WEN NING ;AAAAAA;

are they seriously going to kill all of the wen clan prisoners i can’t i can’t i can’t tAKE MORE OF THIS

“nObOdY dArEs To KiLl PeOpLe HeRe!” he whimpers after LITERALLY JUST SLAUGHTERING A BUNCH OF PEOPLE, RAGE   

wen NING ;AAAAAAAAAAAAAA;

i have many emotions

on a lighter note, wangji standing there in the rain with his umbrella is some kinda beautiful aesthetics mmmm yes 

also random but the markings on top of his umbrella made me think of the spoopy black smoke around wuxian

also i love them

and feelings

[the-elf-mahat]

Solstice

It was the longest night of the year, and Mahat was alone. She was climbing in the rocky hills outside Stormwind, springing from rock to rock as swift and sure as if it were bright daylight. Her single eye glowed dim silver, one star fallen from the many scattered across the sky. The Kaldorei were the children of the stars, after all. Her muscles were starting to ache with the long exertion, but it was a sweet burn, preventing the chill of the winter night from settling into her bones.

She had always been fond of tradition, of ritual. Maybe it was because she felt so untethered herself, so—apart, unclaimed by any culture or people. So she made her own little gestures at custom, her own prayers and sacred places. Humming along with the Cathedral bells as they tolled the hour meant that she was a part of the city and it was a part of her, drinking stout meant she was happy or remembering happiness, and that one dusty attic tucked away in Old Town meant that what happened there was secret, was safe. Meaning was such a fragile thing, but Mahat clung to her symbols and systems as if they were iron and she was the one that might shatter. Tonight, however, the ritual she was keeping wasn't her own.

“Y'fuckin' crazy, love.” The elf was curled up in a thick blanket, perched on the bank of a still mountain lake, watching ruefully as the human man next to her shed his gear.

“Aye, and you knew that when you married me, love, so what does that make you?” The man teased, his voice hoarse and gravelly from decades of bellowing orders, with just a hint of a northern burr in his accent.

The elf snorted, rolling over onto her back to gaze up at the stars. “'S diff'rent. Ev'ryun a'ready knows I's crazy, but th' troops 'spect th' Gen'ral leadin' 'em t' be at least 'alfway sane.”

A dark silhouette loomed between her and the sky, his teeth flashing white as he grinned down at her. “Was I supposed to invite the troops along? Damn, knew I forgot something.”

He was tall--for a human, but her being short for an elf meant he even had a few inches on her. To other humans he was a damn giant, near seven feet, broad-shouldered and barrel-chested, burly and swaggering and scarred. Black hair shot with silver at the temples, loose now but usually worn gathered into twin tails. Clear grey eyes that could burn like frostbite, framed by the wrinkles earned from years of pain and laughter. Sometimes Mahat lost her breath looking at him, he was so damn beautiful.

She threw one of his discarded shoes up at him. He easily dodged, with a resonant chuckle of amusement, as Mahat grumbled, “Get it ov'r wi', y'great nekkid oaf, so's we kin go home an' get warm.”

“You didn't have to come along, love,” he reminded her, accepting her complaints with good humor. He was in fact naked, his pale skin stretched over rippling muscle and slashed by paler scars. The tingling heat that rushed through Mahat as she observed his current state did a bit to mitigate the cold.

She wiggled herself and her blanket upright again, a slight violet flush rising in her cheeks. “I's curious. Wanted t' see y'culture, an' all.”

“Don't know about culture, but feel free to observe this majestic ass as I march it down and dunk it in ball-shrivelingly cold water.” He winked at her, and she tossed him a lazy salute.

“Godspeed, Gen'ral. Y'a braver man than I.”

“Mahat, if you're a man, we have a few things to discuss when I get back.” He grinned and started for the lake.

“Thought ye mighta guessed on th' weddin' night!” she called after him, laughing, but a jaunty wave was his only response.

He made his way down the bank, arms swinging in his usual careless stride, and plunged straight into the dark water without so much as a flinch. He waded further out, the water reaching his waist, and then his chest, where he finally stopped. His head bowed, and Mahat could see his lips moving in an ancient prayer. Snatches of the words drifted to her in his rich, bass voice, but they were in the old tongue of Lordaeron, spoken by few save scholars and the nobility, even before the Scourge wiped out the kingdom. Now the language was virtually extinct. Mahat knew a few words, and he was teaching her more, but the only one she caught for certain in his intonations was “lux.” Light.

That made sense. He'd told her the ritual was about cleansing, soaking away the sins and burdens of the past year, preparing for the fresh start of the year to come. Light and water were intertwined, somehow, bathing in the lake became bathing in the Light, letting it absorb your cares and absolve your crimes. The longest night was the time to let the darkness touch you, remind you of your mistakes and cruelties—but not to let it take you. The Light would shine again. You would be better, more ready, able to hope in the morning. You would be—clean.

She watched as his prayers drew to a close, and he gathered water in his cupped hands. Tipping his head back, he let the water trickle over his brow and run in shining streams through his long, dark hair. He repeated the gesture three times. After the third time he raised his empty hands to the heavens, as if he could gather starlight in them as easily as he had water, and held them there for a time, head bowed forward once again. Silence and stillness settled in, broken only by the whisper of wind through grass, and two hearts beating. Eventually, the man lowered his hands, turned around, and started sloshing towards the shore.

“Feelin' better?” Mahat asked as he approached, picked up the linen towel they'd brought along, and began to roughly scrub his hair dry. There was a teasing edge in her tone, but mostly, she sounded curious. She was.

“I've had a refreshing bath and there's a beautiful elf maiden here waiting to tend to my needs. Not my worst day,” he replied, smirking.

“'Refreshin'?' Tha' water's pure snow-melt, y'crazy bastard. 'Ow are ye no' shiverin' t' pieces righ' now?”

He finished drying off, and carelessly dropped the towel aside. “You forget, love...” There was a wicked glint in his eyes as he stalked towards her. “You married a hulking northern barbarian. Swaddled in yeti fur and weaned on whiskey. The cold's part of us, in our blood and bones.” The last phrase was growled beside her ear as he dropped to one knee before her and took her chin in his hand.

A shiver trickled down Mahat's spine that had very little to do with the temperature. She shrugged out of her blanket wrap, running her palms up the planes of his bare chest. “Tell me more,” she murmured. Her mouth parted for an instant to lightly bite the thumb he traced over her lower lip. “Abou' y'blood an' bones...”

“They're yours, amore,” he answered, his voice growing husky with desire. That was a word she knew, the word she knew best of all those he had taught her. Love. “Every bit of them. Every inch of this scarred, sagging body. Every piece of this shattered, twisted mind. Every strand of this broken soul. Everything that I am—is yours.” His free hand slipped under the hem of her shirt, caressing the curve of her hip, traveling gently up her side.

Mahat knew he was feeling the scars there, her own raised welts of flesh, as many as his or more. “Sometimes two broken things… fit t'gether. Like they go' a purpose.” Her voice was low, and her fingers twisted into the wet tangle of hair at the nape of his neck. “Like they was always meant t' be—like mebbe they en't even broken at all.”

He laughed softly, coaxing her shirt up over her shoulders. She obligingly slithered free of the garment, and then they were pressed together under the dark sky, skin to skin. His was clammy and cold while hers was warm and dry, but it didn't seem to matter much to either of them. She nudged him back onto the grass, catching his mouth with hers and following him down.

Some time later she was curled up beside him, one arm draped across his chest, his thick, calloused fingers running through her silver hair. “You're right, you know,” he murmured, and she could feel his rumbling voice as well as she could hear it, when they were that close. “About broken things. Who's to say they can't become something more than their shards?” Mahat's single eye fluttered shut as she listened, the rhythm of their breathing settling to match each other. “Like two travelers lost in a dark wood, finding a path in each other… like two monsters, daring each other to become heroes.”

The lake was just as Mahat remembered it, a black mirror reflecting the jewel-bright brilliance of thousands of stars. The small, rounded bowl of a valley that held it was quiet, devoid of animal life in this season, frost riming the long grass. They had come here, she and John, that first year of their marriage, and then every year after—except the last. He had been too weak to travel, then. She had never gone into the lake with him. She had never felt that need, to be cleansed, like he did. She was ugly and dirty and cruel in dozens of small ways and a few larger, and she knew it. But she seldom asked for forgiveness.

The wind was rustling the grass again, stirring up memories. Mahat stripped down quickly, mumbling a litany of curses; the cold had always bothered her more than it did most others. She picked her way down the bank on trembling legs, arms folded tight across her chest to hold in heat for as long as possible. When she reached the water's edge she plunged in recklessly, like he always had. She didn't have his constitution though, and the shock of the freezing water hitting her all at once nearly made her pass out. Head spinning, she grit her teeth and pushed in deeper.

It was quiet on the water, easy to see how his prayers had made their way to her. Ripples spread out from the disturbance of her movement, dipping and rolling the reflected stars on the surface. Mahat stopped when the water was chest-high, every part of her frigid and numb, and tipped her head back to look at the sky.

She knew the gestures of the ritual and could easily ape them, but she didn't know what they meant. To him, or to anyone. They were empty motion to her, just shadows cast by a man she had loved. A man whose shadows she kept chasing. The symbol of Lordaeron pinned on a cloak, a northern burr slipping into an accent, a certain arrogant smirk or glint of steel-grey eyes—they all haunted her when she saw them in the city, these shadows cast by other people that had once belonged to him.

“Is tha' why I's here, amore?” she asked, her gaze fixed on the cold, mute stars. “T' stop chasin' shadows?” Under the water, her fists clenched. “But shadows is all I go' left...” Suddenly her eye narrowed, her voice going sharp and harsh.

“An' fuck ye anyway, John! Y'promised we'd go out t'gether, side by side, facin' down endless foes, an' ye died in bed like a fuckin' arsehole!” A savage growl tore out of her throat. “Ye was th' one tha' believed in me, th' one wha' saw all o' me an' wasn'-- wasn' afraid. Ye said I was—a good person.” Her voice caught on an edge and she took a breath. “Ye's wrong, so damn wrong. I's wha' I always said I was, wha' ye thought ye was: a monster, a broken fuckin' thing. Without ye I don't -fit-, I bite an' I break an' I hurt an' there's no peace, no un's safe, nothin's sacred.”

Her head bowed forward, shoulders trembling violently. “'Ow cou' ye leave like tha'? Ye's s'posed t' keep 'em safe from me. Y'made me think there was a way fer us t' be t'gether, a way t' no' hurt anyun again, a way t' become somethin'… better. But ye died an' I—I's alone.” She was nearly whispering now, her breath stirring the surface of the water. “Was ye really tha' blind? T' make me live, t' no' take me wi' ye, couldn' ye see wha' ye was leavin' behind? Th' damage I cou' do, th' things I could… break...”

A droplet sent ripples echoing outwards. Mahat straightened her spine, a grim, determined cast taking over her features. “Nay. I en't tha' weak. No' anymore.” Her lips twisted in a humorless grin. “Dunno tha' I kin be a hero without ye, love. But mebbe—I kin become a better monster.”

She slipped below the dark waters of the lake, and they closed around her like a cold embrace.

[violetrhapsody-blog]

Ben....

A majestic, beautiful and honest man who seemed to vaporise from my dreams and come into reality out of nowhere.

Irish.

Long hair.

Gorgeous eyes.

Tall.

Good build.

Wicked smile.

Uncanny ability to read me and know when something is going on from the very first time we met.

I was introduced to Ben only three months ago, yet he seems to know me more than most people on this planet and he has made the biggest impact to my life in all the right ways in such a short space of time.

He has made me realise that there are many things in my life and past with men and how I view relationships that are just completely.....well, fucked for lack of a better term.

I digress, how I met him.

A friend in work, a new friend but someone who is like my sister with the amount of love I have for her, messaged me one night after a rather frank discussion in work about what my ideal man was.

“...I dunno *clicks to switch into aftercall* maybe just a guy who doesn’t lie and cheat and break my heart.......no? Stop scowling at me........ok, ok....let me think *sifts through some work documents while thinking* Long hair, tall, kinky, geeky, something to do with computers and larp, gamer, sensitive, can cook, gives foot rubs, kind, understanding, wants to get to know me, doesnt just want sex, will spend time with me watching trash movies on the sofa.......and irish! He has to be Irish! That right there is my dream man”

She smiled.

I thought nothing more of it.

Few weeks later after many discussions between us about the men we were both seeing, partners, friends with benefits and play partners in the kink world, she messages me one night...

“Ben cooks and does foot rubs you know on command”

"Really? Can I borrow him from you for a night?”

“You would need to ask him...”

“ummm really?”

“Yea, just message him randomly with ‘so I hear you give foot rubs and cook on command’ and see what he says”

*finds him on FB, sends message*

2 days later.....

“I guess you know *blah* then?” from Ben....and that is where it started.

We chatted, we got on, he seemed cute, I seemed drawn to him the same way I had many other men since being unexpectedly single since last October.

But something was different.

We arranged to meet up for a drink in a coffee shop 2 weeks later.

Something happened one week later and we were both free at the same time....it was late at night and we were messaging...somehow we both ended up eluding to him coming to my house for the first time we were meeting which was totally different for me.

He has a wife. He is poly.

His wife knew and was ok with it to a point.

We had already spoken about the possibility of play.

First day here and when he first walked through the door I was shocked at how stunning he was.

Beautiful long hair to his ass, amazing deep eyes I could get lost in, amazing ass...wicked smile and an accent I couldn’t place.

We chatted and settled into each others company.

We talked openly, honestly and bluntly about play sessions, history, hang ups and what we each wanted.

He even let me braid his hair.

He sat down on the dining chair and I braided his hair while chatting.

I asked him where his accent was from because I couldnt place it.

He smiled at me looking up cheekily in the mirror in front of him that I had forgotten about...

“If you cannot guess by the time you are done with my hair, I will tell you”.

I guessed everything from American, welsh, English and everything in-between.

“Are you done with my hair yet?”

“Yea, I cannot guess, where the hell are you from?”

He got up, turned around, walked upto me, put his right hand on the right hand side of my face, leaned in slowly and whispered in my right ear, “I’m from Ireland, love” in a full Irish accent.

My eyes lit up, I was shocked, I was horrified and I was excited all at once. Simultaneously all of my damn dreams were embodied in front of me in one man, a real man, standing in front of me who was interested in me.

He found my reaction both amusing and confusing I think, I know he was definitely amused by it. It still makes him chuckle a few months on.

Chloe had forced me towards him knowing full well the light and love he would bring to my life as he did to hers...the joy of being poly!

I adore him and he is teaching me to be true to myself, finally, at the age of 33, he is teaching me and giving me the space to learn about myself.

He has taken my thinking that has been reinforced since I was 18 and has turned it on its head.

There will be a lot more writings about Ben in this journal.

There have been so many things that I never want to forget about the time I am spending with him.

...I just wish he weren’t married.