#and this made me feel something a lil bit

[always-just-red]

Hii! I've seen some Pregnancy scenario with LaD's men, but I have this HC-- personally for Sylus. That when fem!reader got pregnant, he didn't really understand how the Pregnancy hormones work, until he experienced one and he got confused how he should act or react because it's feels like he's walking on landime, one wrong move/word, she'd throwing tantrum or being sulky at him

I've heard from my Friend who got pregnant before, when she craving something and her Husband showing any form that he can't fulfill what she's craves, she felt her heart broken, and she'd sulk and acted as if he just cheated on her. The problem is, she always craved something that didn't even exist at that moment😂, she's craving certain type of Mango while it's not even that Mango season, so nobody selling it. He literally being desperate to negotiate with her cravings

So... Can I request a scenario smiliar like that? It doesn't have to be mango, or any foods. Just... how Pregnancy hormones or Cravings could make Sylus got frustated lol

Aaaaa anon this is adorable, thank you! We love making Sylus suffer in cute and harmless ways. He's always asking for trouble, so let's give him some! 😌💅

Something Sweet

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: Sylus knows how to get what he wants. Getting what you want might be a little more tricky...

Genre: fluff!

Warnings/Additional tags: female!reader, IMPLIED pregnant!reader (pregnancy not actually mentioned or described- just hormones being hormones ✌), established relationship, canon pet names, a lil bit of roleplay because Sylus refuses to leave his Mystic Adventure era

| Word count: 2.1k | Masterlist |

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Sy, d’you know what I’m craving right now?”

“Always, sweetie.” Sylus doesn’t look up from his book. “Not now, though. I’m tired.”

Morning sunlight streams through the gaps in your living room curtains, casting pale yellow shapes over the floor. A shard of it has been inching over the sofa towards Sylus, the sharp edge now grazing the side of his face. He shifts, ever so slightly, away from its touch. His eyes are open but heavy.

“No,” you scold, leaning forwards to swat at him with your book. “That’s not what I meant, you narcissist.”

He chuckles with his usual low timbre— his gaze still not lifting— and the sound is deeper for how close he is to sleep. He wants to give in to it, you can tell. When he turns a page, the movement is languid, soft. You’re losing him.

“Sy,” you say again, then with more of a whine: “Sylus.”

His eyes flutter closed as he draws in a deep breath. His hand raises, his fingers stretching to pull his reading glasses from his face. They’re set down on the arm of the chair beside him, along with the book, and he turns to you with a smile. “What are you craving, sweetie?”

You rest your book on your stomach. Your legs are stretched out over Sylus’s lap, and his hand finds one of your feet, massaging an ache from it as you begin your speech. “Do you remember that café we used to go to? The one we found when it started raining in the park that day? We didn’t think it was open, but then the owner knocked on the window and said we could—”

“Yeah?” His hand moves to your other foot.

“Well, they make these—”

“Macarons.”

“You remember?”

His smile widens like he remembers vividly. “Kitten, how could I forget? I’m still jealous of that sweet little treat. You’ve never made that face for me, and believe me—” he wiggles one of your toes— “I’ve tried.”

That had been one of the only times you’d truly caught him off-guard, back when your feelings for one another were unnamed and uncharted. The rain had been drumming against the café window, and you’d heaved Sylus’s damp coat from your shoulders— giggled at the raised eyebrow and the sarcastic ‘…thanks’ he’d given in turn. One hot drink later, you were lifting a pastel pink macaron to your lips, taking a delicate bite and failing to stifle a tiny, almost euphoric moan.

You remember realising yourself: blushing profusely and expecting some remark, some ridicule, but none ever came. Sylus’s eyes were wide, dark, fixed upon your still parted mouth.

After a few of the longest seconds of your life, he’d dragged the plate with the rest of the macarons away from you and muttered something about how you had better not do that again.

“They’re still the sweetest things I’ve ever tasted,” you tease now, just as you’d wrestled him for that plate back then, set on eating every last macaron.

He makes a hmph as he idly runs a finger over the part of your foot he knows is ticklish. His expression is distinctly grumpy, but it falters as you laugh and try to writhe away from him.

You’re quickly out of breath. “Sylus?”

“Mmm?”

He glances up at you and you smile sweetly, head tilting. “Please?”

His coat on a rainy day. The entire plate of macarons in the end; he’s never been very good at denying you anything. For the first time since you’d stirred him from his book, however, he appears genuinely regretful. “You’re forgetting something, sweetie,” he murmurs gently. “Why did we stop going to that café, hmm?”

You shrug.

“It closed, kitten,” he sighs. “Months ago.”

“What?”

Not only did you already know that— you actually visited the café on its final day. The owner was telling you stories: he was moving somewhere warmer, closer to family, and he needed all the funds he could get. Sylus had snuck an obscene amount of money into the man’s tip jar whilst you acted as a distraction. You both had fond memories of that place; it was nice to make one more.   

It's all coming back to you and you’re struck by a wave of nostalgia. You want to go back there. You can’t go back there. It doesn’t exist anymore, and you’ll never taste sweetness like that again.

Your mouth has gone dry.

“Sweetie?” Sylus prompts, because he notices you’re far away. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” your voice wobbles, “I just really wanted… I mean, I really needed one of those—”

“… Macarons?” he finishes for you.

You burst into tears, and one day, you’ll tally this as another time you took the man by surprise. His face drops instantly— lost, for a moment— before he slides your legs from his lap, allowing him to lean closer. “No, no, no,” he coos, “don’t cry, kitten, please. I didn’t mean to… well, I didn’t realise…”

He doesn’t know what to say, and he always knows what to say. He set you off with a single word and now he’s stuttering like sentences are all possible landmines. He tries his luck again, putting a foot forward: “Listen to me. I’ll go to the store. Would that be alright? Or perhaps there’s another café that could—”

You explode: sobbing even more viscerally. Your whole body shakes with it.

Sylus has frozen. He watches on helplessly as you cry, blabbering about the macarons you can’t have and the café you can’t return to. Across the room, even Mephisto has hunched down on his perch, though he issues a few, spirited squawks, maybe in solidarity with your breakdown, or maybe in protest of it.

It’s like a catalyst. You cry more: burying your face in your hands because what the hell is wrong with you? It’s not a big deal. It’s not a big deal, so why do you feel sick? And then there’s Sylus— your Sylus, devoted and adoring— and here you are, punishing him for something beyond his control.

You look up from your hands, desperate to apologise, but he’s gone. More shards of sunlight paint his empty seat and catch all that’s left of him: a few crow feathers, glistening like onyx. Mephisto is gone too, and the room is quiet, save for you snivelling and feeling sorry for yourself.

“Sylus?” you call out into the empty morning.

It isn’t his fault, not really. You wouldn’t want to be around you, either.

…

Something brushes over your cheek, and your tired eyes open.

The sun has ebbed back behind the curtains and the ceiling light has taken its place, casting artificial highlights over everything in reach: the coffee table, the closed-up flowers at its centre and a mug of tea that’s gone cold. Sylus is in front of you too, backlit and soft like a daydream, and he—

He left you.

“Sy?” you whisper warily, because the context is coming back to you slowly, piece by piece.

“Hey,” he coaxes, voice as honeyed as whatever’s turned the air sweet.

You blink, rubbing sleep from your eyes and relishing the warmth of his hand on your face. Then you slap his shoulder. “Hey, really? That’s all you’ve got— hey?”

He’s kneeling for you— on the floor, beside the couch— so you can meet his eyes. He settles his chin thoughtfully on the edge of the seat, his nose almost touching yours. “What would you prefer, sweetie?” His lips are close to yours too. “Good evening, my beloved? Greetings, my queen?”

“How about sorry?” you snap, because he isn’t cute and he isn’t charming.

He pouts. “Why sorry?”

“Because you left, Sylus!�� You sit up straighter, and your phone tumbles out of your lap. Its screen is still lit-up from a few hours ago, showcasing a very one-sided conversation and a rant you never actually sent, because it’s still in the text box.

You vaguely recall writing it, so you try to snatch the phone from Sylus’s hand as he plucks it from the floor. He’s more alert than you. More co-ordinated. He keeps it out of your grasp as he reads the unsent message, an eyebrow raising.

It was a lot of things— colourful, creative— not entirely tasteful. “My, my, your highness,” he tuts, “so this is the treatment your valiant knight receives for undertaking your quest?”

“You’re not valiant,” you rebuke, and you manage to wrestle your phone from him. “You’re—”

“A heartless prick,” he finishes casually, quoting your message with a chuckle. He takes your free hand and kisses the back of it, refusing to let you pull away. “And whose fault is that, I wonder?”

“You can have your heart back.”

“Nope. You’re stuck with it, sweetie. With me, too. Now—” he sits back on his knees— “would you please ask me about my quest?”

The analogy is lost on you. You sit fully up, looking down at him. “What quest, oh valiant knight?”

His lips form a smirk; he just loves when you play along. “Close your eyes.”

You do— whether you’re queen or not. You hear him shifting aside, and then there’s a snap of his fingers. The air changes, warping like thick, liquid smoke, and you know he’s using his Evol. “Open,” he commands.

And there on the coffee table, freshly teleported, is a plate of macarons the colour of cherry blossoms. As if anticipating the comparison, Sylus pulls a handful of pink petals from his pocket and blows them up into the air so they can spiral down on the scene. He watches them. Then you. “Ta-da,” he proclaims, his tone dry but full of humour.

You’re prone to hyperbole nowadays, but this is without a doubt the best thing you have ever seen.

“Sylus,” you gasp in disbelief, “how did you—”

“It doesn’t matter,” he says; the story isn’t for today, and he’s very, very tired. A few weeks from now he’ll tell you about how he tracked down the contact information of the owner of the old café. How he spent an hour on the phone bargaining for a certain macaron recipe, and several more hours in the kitchen, trying to get them perfect. “Now, they might not be exactly the same, sweetie. But I did try to—”

You surge forwards, capturing his lips in a kiss. It’s so impulsive— so reckless— that you almost tumble down from the couch, but he catches you, steadies you, and your hand is gripping the soft of his hair as he kisses you back. Slowly, his mouth not leaving yours, he lifts you back into your seat.

“Easy, sweetie.” His voice is low as he pulls away, and though he turns his face from you, you can make out the blush on his cheeks. He settles back into his kneeling position on the floor. “I have one more surprise for you. Do try to control yourself.”

He retrieves a small, complete flower from his pocket, albeit one a little dreary from its journey. Sylus smiles triumphantly as he holds it out to you, and he was right; you do want to throw yourself at him. Instead, you take the flower and lean forwards, tucking it behind his ear before he can protest. He’d tilted closer to help you, and he sits back with an exasperated tsk when you’re done.

“It suits you,” you grin.

He yawns. “Everything does.”

You don’t want to get into trouble, so you shimmy to the very edge of your seat and carefully— showing tremendous restraint— reach out to take his face in your hands. “You’re amazing, Sy. Thank you for doing all of this for me, but…”

“But…?”

“I missed you. I like macarons, yeah,” you smile, “but I’d much rather have you.”

This time, he can’t hide his face and the way it goes pink, like the blossom behind his ear. His cheeks are warm beneath your palms. “You couldn’t have said that before I spent the whole day—”

His voice is strangled as you keel towards him— slow and deliberate— to thread your arms around him and pull him into a hug. He tenses for a moment, then wraps his arms around you too: holding you tightly, keeping you from falling any further. You can feel his hand stroking your back and he hums as you give him a gentle squeeze.

“Such a lovely moment, kitten,” he muses, your head on his shoulder. “I do hope it’s sincere, and not— say— an excuse for someone to get her paws on the macarons behind me.”

There’s another moment of quiet.

“Don’t be silly, Sy,” you retort, but your mouth is full, your cheeks are stuffed, and not a single word of it is intelligible.

[6ronze]

BOSS’S WIFE

໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ ─── 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍!𝐑𝐀𝐍 w fem!reader who’s his boss’, Mikey’s, wife. warning(s) -> angst. nsfw. mdni. ran x reader + mikey x reader. infidelity obvly. a lil bit apathetic reader. dark themes(prostitution mention, drugs, murder). hints of lovesick ran. unrequited love from ran to reader. one-night stand vibes. near death experience. cheater!reader ig. alleged cheater!mikey. there’s some slowburn cs you’re stubborn. miscommunication between mikey and reader. endearments (darling, princess, etc.). car sex. praise. a lot of plot. i dont condone cheating whatsoever. not proofread. wc is 4.5k

author’s comment. mmyyeaahh so i def have a fav haitani now + urghhh not too happy w this BUT i liked exploring the idea

It was hours past midnight, the city cold and humid from recent rain that had stopped minutes ago. You sat beside your husband, Manjiro ‘Mikey’ Sano, on the couch of the isolated jazz club that he owned. He was talking business with some other yakuza men, something about delivery and drugs, perhaps a brief topic of prostitution exchange.

The unsettling environment wasn’t out of the ordinary for you anymore, not since you’ve known Mikey. You’ve stuck to him since middle school—more like he made you stick to him. But you never really made an effort to leave.

He satisfied you enough, your needs, emotionally and physically. Nothing made you feel better than the feeling of being needed, and your husband was the same. He needed an anchor, a reason to be. Coincidentally, you were willing to be both.

“You don’t have to stay here if you’re getting bored, baby. ‘Could always walk around the building or take a smoke outside. I’ll have someone guard you,” you heard your husband speak, snapping you out of your trance. Mikey held an arm around your shoulder, fingers rubbing up and down your arm comfortingly—the complete contrast of the look he had in his eyes. His dark depths gazing at you as if he couldn’t give a fuck if you lived or died the next few seconds. But Mikey never acted like that, of course. He was a great husband considering the lifestyle he led.

“Alright, I’ll do that then,” you nodded obediently, not finding the harm in accepting the given opportunity to leave the monotonous conversation. So you got up after leaving Mikey a quick kiss to his cheek, walking away from the table and walking over to the backdoor exit of the building.

As you did so, you walked past one of Mikey’s men, a familiar tall purple haired man. You recognised him from the corner of your eye, your peripheral vision doing you a favour by informing you who your guard for the night was. It wasn’t a surprise he followed you without having to be ordered, always doing such things involving you voluntarily.

“Shouldn’t stray too far from the building, darling,” you heard him call out to you, most likely, from behind as you stepped out into the window streets, road pretty empty save for the occasional passing cabs.

Your lips strained downward for a split second.

“You’ll be here to lead me back, Ran,” a breathy sigh left your lips, faint smoke leaving your lips from the cold. Your hands tugged on the white faux fur coat you had on, a vain attempt to keeping your tense torso warm. With a confident stride, you kept on walking ahead, paying no regard to the man who tagged behind you like it was his personal wish rather than a dull order from his boss.

“That doesn’t guarantee that I’ll lead you back healthy. You’ll definitely get a cold if you keep walking out here like this,” he retorted without much effort, his tone slight frustrated despite his matter-of-factly manner of answering you. It made your brow twitch, your lips pressed to a thin straight line.

You didn’t add another word to the exchange, letting it hang. Cars proceeded to drive past the road beside you, your legs bringing you further and further away from the jazz club you recently left. It was almost like you were running away. And you were almost determined to do so, though you long knew that was never an option anymore.

Ran noticed every change of your body language even though he only had the view of your back. The subtly tremble of your legs were enough to alarm him, narrowing his lilac eyes and fueling his resolve to keep an eye on you, not for his boss’s sake—for your sake.

Subtly splashes of water from the passing cars filled the atmosphere, faint engines and dim city building lights and with lamp lights setting the perfect atmosphere for you to envision your escape. Everything seemed so perfect, so staged, too good to be true. You were so focused on getting ahead, on heading away miles away from wherever Mikey was—until you were pulled out of it.

A sharp car screech filled the previously silent noise. Suddenly your ears were ringing, all the noise you cancelled out returning to you again. You turned your head, heels backtracking from shock. Ran’s hand held a nearly painful grip on your upper arm, pulling you back with reasinably strength.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed? If that’s what it is then I got a gun with silencer on it for ya to use, for fuck’s sake!” Ran was practically yelling, his voice raised and his expression contorted to one of anger and worry. His brows were furrowed deeply, vein on his forehead and neck practically bulging as he pulled back a bit more before finally releasing you.

“W-what?” was all you could utter, blinking up at him with wide eyes, a bit dumbfounded about the situation.

“You almost got yourself run over by a car, what’s gotten into you? Ya need sleep, or something?” Ran seemed to answer your confusion without hesitation, the realisation that you almost died making you turn around and take in your surroundings.

Shit.

A sports car was practically swerved over to the sidewalk, thankfully not crashing into a post light. The driver drove off after yelling crazy bitch out his window. The insult made Ran grit his teeth, head tilted in further annoyance. You stopped him with a hand on his arm before he could do anything, stealing his attention quite quickly.

“I’m fine. Really. Just tired, like you said,” you muttered with a soft sigh after, lowering your head to gather yourself. All the while you had your lids closed shut, you felt a warm arm circle your shoulders.

“C’mon, let’s get you back,” he murmured, almost trying to comfort you. And in a way it did, he did—his warmth did. You followed him silently, letting him guide you back to the jazz club where Mikey was again.

While you were mostly silent throughout the walk, you eventually spoke up when you realised you were gonna have to face Mikey again. You felt a bit guilty for feeling like this, for wanting to avoid your own husband. But it wasn’t your fault you needed some space, some air to breath away from the heavy atmosphere and tension that was always there with him.

“I don’t wanna go back yet,” you objected, halting your steps abruptly.

Surprisingly, or not, Ran doesn’t scold you. Instead, he stops with you, arm never loosening around you. He merely looks down at you, taking in every detail on your expression at that moment and taking a moment to think about where he could possibly whisk you away to.

“Fine. My car. Then we head back, you hear me?” Ran conceded with a soft huff, centre of his brows still slightly creased from his frowning. He exhaled a quiet okay when you nodded in agreement, hand squeezing your upper arm gently to urge you to keep on walking.

It didn’t take too long for him to find your way to his car parked a few buildings away from the jazz club where Mikey was still in probably. Ran unlocked the car, opening the door of the backseat before gently nudging you in, following suit right after you.

Ran didn’t bother moving to start the engine, knowing the last thing you needed was the AC making you colder than you already were. Speaking of which, Ran couldn’t help but notice your shivering self that quivered against him, the sight of you leaning into him so desperately making him feeling a heavy pang of affection, worry, and a whole bundle of emotions he knew he shouldn’t have, things that he kept buried in the depths of his heart. And yet being in your presence for a few minutes was enough to unravel all of it, every dark detail of it.

“You’re actually chittering, princess,” he muttered, leaning down to press a chaste kiss onto the top of your head, a soft chuckle leaving his lips too in an effort to lighten the mood.

“And you’re actually annoying,” you refuted, voice small yet breathy as you shifted yourself on the leather seats, nuzzling under his arm and into his chest. Your arms were folded over your chest, holding your fur coat close to you. “Hmph, so mean,” you heard him whisper back, sarcasm lacing every syllable.

You more focused on warming yourself up at the moment, but that didn’t mean you didn’t notice how touchy and warm Ran was being. All the questions popped up in your mind about him, until you started questioning yourself, your own actions. You allowed him to do everything he did. You followed him back and forth, allowed him to bring you close to him, hell you even agreed to get in his car when you could’ve suggested some random alleyway to get a breather.

At some point, your shivering stopped. Your arms were wrapped around yourself, eyes staring mindlessly at his lap with your expression awfully neutral—the opposite of your mind that spiralled.

But a few breathers was all it took for you to forget. To dismiss everything. It wasn’t unlike Mikey had done the same anyway, entertaining other people like you were. For all you know, he’s probably done worse considering the amount of clubs he’s went to without you.

Now you’ve somewhat rationalised your actions, you lifted your head from Ran’s chest, tilting your head up to look at him. It seemed like he was staring at you already with how your gazes locked immediately.

“What is it, princess?” He broke the silence with that hoarse yet gentle voice of his, smiling faintly at you as if you were a stray cat he was trying to coax closer. As much as he loved staring into your beautiful eyes, he knew if he allowed to moment to stretch any longer his lips would end up pressed against yours—and just maybe more.

“Just wondering why you give a fuck about me in the first place.”

Ran could feel his smile fade from his face, his violet eyes no longer making an effort to look lighthearted for you. Those downturned eyes of his shifted to a stern gaze, almost determined.

If you thought your mind spiralled, his was a whole damn hurricane now.

“That’s an easy question. Though the answer’s probably something you don’t wanna know,” he answered cryptically, hand on your shoulder squeezing you once.

“You’d wish you never knew,” you heard him add, voice low yet barely above a whisper. You felt your breath hitch in throat, eyes fixated on him still. You felt your mouth dry up and closed your lips, brows furrowing slight as you turned away from him.

“I want to know. I don’t care about some creepy consequence you’re so worried about, Ran. All I’m asking about is why you act so nice w—,” you were stopped between your rant, your attempt to persuade him to be honest with you backfiring.

In a blink of an eye, he had his hand push you back against the seat, lips parted from his persistent tongue. You mumbled something but the kiss muffled your words, previously widened eyes now turning half-lidded from his warmth and shortness of breath.

“R-Ran, get a hold of yourself,” you panted once he broke the kiss, your hands reaching up to his chest and shoulder, failing to push him off of you. He kept you corner between the small space of him and the backrest behind you, face inches away from yours still.

You caught your breath, hands pushing him growing weaker until you decided to let up. Your eyes flickered from your lap up to his face, the resolve in his gaze unwavering.

“What does this mean?” You whispered, quizzically looking at him. The confusion on you towards his actions almost made Ran smile, but all he could manage was a faint laugh.

“Means that I love you.”

The crease between your brows deepened at his confession.

You weren’t exactly pleased per se, but it did make sense. It made a lot of sense. Made his demeanour towards you logical.

You suspected his feelings for you before, though you never entertained the thought. Ran was busy beyond words being Mikey’s executive, and you on the other hand were married. Yet it seems like that didn’t seem to bother Ran much.

“How exactly am I supposed to respond to that, Ran?” You sighed, almost pleading, beautiful orbs of yours falling to your lap once more.

“That’s the thing. You don’t.”

Huh?

Before you could open your mouth, he sealed your lips in another kiss, needier this time. He wanted to shut you up, to take your mind off things—everything. You’d be lying if you said it wasn’t working.

How could you possibly think about anything else when Ran had a hand on your thigh, running up the thin pantyhose you wore under that dark red leather miniskirt. The force of his greedy kisses made you slump up the plush seat behind you, making you lean over to the side until your back was against the window of the car door. Ran had another hand on your waist, skimming under your coat to cup the flesh your side.

“You don’t have to say a word—I don’t want an answer from you. Just want you, baby,” the man grunted into your mouth, tongue swiping against yours and teeth tugging on your lower lip. His breath was as heavy, much like yours.

It was hard for you not to reciprocate his kisses, his touch, not when he had you cornered with little to no space to move or focus on anything but him. And that was exactly what he wanted—your undivided attention, even if it was just for the moment.

Ran was tired of just admiring you from afar, exhausted from having to settle with the women that kept throwing themselves at him in the clubs he went to after work.

What he hated most was having to imagine you and your stunning figure beneath him whenever he was fucking those girls, having to wish he could see you every day after work like his boss could. Ran wanted the real thing so badly, he fucking craved it. But he hid those desires so well that it would leave anyone in Bonten in shock if they knew he had the fattest, more ridiculous crush on you.

Like a student to his teacher. It was humiliating, yet so fucking thrilling. And that was just it with Ran. Nothing had him more addicted to something other than the excitement.

So while Ran had his hands all over you, lips kissing you everywhere, he made sure to savour it. To take his time suckling on your red tongue, nibbling and marking on your swollen bottom lips that he had damp with saliva. Ran had to make sure you enjoyed it too—‘cause fuck if you didn’t want him as much he wanted you—

“Wrap your legs around me, sweetheart,” he whispered through bated breath, shifting himself and grabbing one of your legs to lift on the car seat, wanting to be between your legs.

His demands were almost impossible to deny anymore. He’s made your mind hazy from the lewd, sloppy kisses he’s given you. The cold air only made it worse since it only made you crave warmth more than you should—his warmth.

“Good girl, that’s it,” you heard him praise you, his slender fingers running over the waistband of your leather skirt, unfastening the metal button and pulling down the zip. His violet eyes were sickeningly fixated on your lower-half, as if in anticipation to see your most intimate parts—more like anticipating what kind of panties you were wearing, what kind of lingerie you preferred.

You whined softly, still unsure what he was praising you for exactly. Was it for your cooperation? If so then he’ll have to keep on praising you for the next few minutes ‘cause you’d seriously consider acting up if he stopped. What kind of woman were you if you asked him to stop now? Sure, a woman with a moral compass. However, such a thing was discarded by you the first few seconds you entered his car.

Married or not, you didn’t know if there was any kind of woman out there that would resist Ran when he was like this—so attentive, so careful with touching you but gazing at you with predatory-like eyes. You almost felt naked under him even when you weren’t. It was like he saw all of you, inside and out.

And that was when you were beginning to truly be naked under him. Decisive fingers peeling off your leather miniskirt, then hooking under the waistband of your pantyhose to pull it down to your knees.

“Do you trust me?” The question threw you off for a moment, watching him move to sit on his knees on the carseat horizontally and carrying your legs over his shoulders, nearly folding you against the small corner he drove you in.

Your head was practically forced up against the window, back bent forward and legs held by Ran. Your lips quivered subtly, the discomfort adding to your anxiousness. Yet that question of his seemed to stem from that exactly.

With a meek nod, you mumbled a soft yes to assure him. Not a second later he slid his hand down your lifted thighs, rubbing and gently squeezing the inner flesh, cold fingers dangerously close to the apex of your legs. You followed his every move as best as you could, swallowing the lump of nervousness in your throat.

It was almost tantalising, the way he navigated his way down and up your body with such ease, such adoration. If you looked closely enough, you could have seen the gleams of mesmerisation in his violet eyes. And holy fuck, did that turn you on even more, thighs twitching close together with the wet patch on your panties growing bigger.

You could feel your heart skip a beat at the sight of Ran’s lips curling to a smirk. He clearly noticed your arousal, especially so with the view he had of you from that position.

“Ah-ah.. you don’t get to be shy,” Ran warned, hand gripping your thigh tighter to peel them away from each other when you subconsciously started to cross them to hide yourself.

“I’ve been so long for this, darling. So fuckin’ long,” he breathed, impatience evident in the way his gaze alternated between your heaving chest and your fat folds covered by the thing fabric of your panties. Without wasting a moment more, he moved a hand down to your pussy, slipping the long index between your folds, middle finger joining to find your clit with ease, rubbing the sensitive nub up and down in slow motions. You gasped sharply at the sudden pleasure, legs on his shoulders quaking from the stimulation alone.

“So damn soaked for me, baby. Did ya wait for me too?” He cooed, shifting the focus of his slender fingers to your aching slit, gently digging inside through your panties to give you a taste of what was to come.

The soft moans from you was enough to spur him on, half-heartedly fucking you with his fingers through the clothes. It reached a point where the tip of his fingers were soaked in your nectar, all sticky and lubed up to fuck you for real.

Low groans rumbled in his chest with every move he made on your cunt, dipping down your panties until he could feel your walls flutter around with need.

“Need me to fuck you, don’t you darling? Need me balls deep inside you,” you heard him grunt, fingers probing your wet pussy until he wasn’t. He withdrew his fingers, hand moving to his belt instead, unbuckling it to unbutton and unzip his pants with ease.

Ran found it adorable how engrossed you were in the scene of him tugging his pants and boxers downwards to pull out his cock, already hard and throbbing for you.

Bending down to you, Ran had your legs pushed up not from your chest, threatening to squash your tits for the soft jiggle effect he’d drool over.

“Gonna have to relax a bit more, darlin’. I gotta fuck you in the best angle,” he drawled, fastening your legs to his neck and snug on his shoulders. His cologne was borderline intoxicating, the intense scent inducing your lightheadedness.

“‘M not that flexible,” you grumbled, trying to relax your limbs like he said regardless. When you did, he folded your limbs further, adding a little bit of force to reach his desired position. “There ya go, angel,” he murmured just for your ears, earning himself a soft whimper from you.

Not a second later, Ran aligned his cock right up your entrance, the head leaking beads of precum smearing up your folds, pushing his hips forward until he slid up past your entrance. He had you reach up to cling onto his suit jacket, clenching your fingers around his arms while he dug his dick into your depths to the hilt, breath stuck in his throat as if you were choking his throat instead of his cock.

“Holy fuck—feels so fuckin’ good, you feel so good,” he crooned, staying still for a while to let you adjust to the intrusion before he started moving again, pacing it slow at first and subtly progressing to frenzied tempo, hips rocking uncontrollably.

Your lips hung open, eyes darting from Ran’s face to the mess that was your squelching cunt, the sound of his hips slapping against your ass filling the car along with.

“Ran—! Want you cum, cum for me,” you whine, heart hammering in your chest in sync with the seconds he drove his pulsating cock in and out of your gummy walls, the hold he had on your thighs turning desperate as he chased his orgasm, and yours. “Careful what you—fuck-wish for,” Ran stuttered, his arousal amplified with your constant moans and begging, the cramped space thickening the air and tension around your sweat sheened bodies.

“Cum for me, darling—fuck-ngh, cum with me,” he groaned with heavy pants, jaw clenched at the slick feeling of your juices dripped down his shaft to his tense balls, feeling it tighten along with the knot in his lower belly. A few short, frenzied thrusts was all it took for him to finally come undone along with you, your sopping wet pussy clamping down on his heavy cock triggering his orgasm.

Your features scrunched up in pleasure along with Ran, your legs quaking around his shoulders and your toes curled from the feeling of his semen spilling inside you in thick ropes. Ran stayed inside you even after your orgasm, basking in the afterglow with shared breaths and groans.

“I.. hate you,” was all you could breath out at the moment, eyes fluttering and threatening to close with your head rested on the mirror of the car door. Slowly, Ran withdrew his cock from your well-filled cunt, leaving a string of your mixed juices that soon broke to stain your inner thigh.

“Can’t say the same for you, princess..,” Ran chuckled half-heartedly, pulling away and shrugging your legs off his shoulders to lay carelessly on the carseat as he grabbed a tissue to wipe the mess on lingering on your skin.

Your eyes followed the movement of Ran’s hand, watching him clean you up so carefully unlike the roughness he had when he was fucking you earlier. Didn’t even need to glance at your thighs, you knew there were red welts everywhere on them from how much he was clawing onto your flesh desperately.

Silence filled the car for a moment, unspoken words kept deep within yourself as he helped dress you up again, sitting you up properly on the seat and asking if he went too rough on you anywhere.

It wasn’t like he was doting you either. Not too much anyway. He gave you space as much as he gave you his concern, probably aware he crossed some lines that he shouldn’t have. Despite that, Ran being Ran, he wasn’t ashamed, nor did he feel guilty for any of it.

“You know he’ll kill you, right?” your hoarse voice whispered to break the silence, illuminated only by the dim street lights around you.

“Only if he knows.”

“He’s definitely gonna fucking know.”

“He won’t really kill me,” Ran shrugged, stuffing a hand into his pocket to take out a packet of cigarettes, wanting to light one up to take a smoke as if none of it bothered him. And in a way, it really didn’t.

“Ran,” you warned, furrowing your brows and glaring at him in a sideway glance. Your arms folded on chest, head leaning back against the headrest as you turned away and sighed.

“Doesn’t matter. I got the fuck the love of my life—so if he kills me, I’m gonna die with a fucking smile, you hear me?” Ran spoke, his tone of voice clearly set as if he made up his mind when he turned to you, lit up cigarette held between the fingers of his right hand.

“Besides. You sure as hell enjoyed it, hm? Bet you haven’t had an orgasm like that in a while, have you?” he added, hints of teasing lacing his voice with his free hand reaching out to cup your face.

That playful mood of his was short lived when he felt you lean into his hand, eyes fluttering shut. He felt his heart being tugged on.

“You poor thing,” was all you heard him whisper lowly a moment after his lighthearted remark, hand on your cheek moving to the back of your head to pull you into him.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

A click echoed in the room and the beeping stopped.

“We got this from the bug we planted in executive Ran’s car, sir.”

A pathetic scoff left Mikey’s lips, his lips curling to a faint smirk before it faded to a straight line again.

The white haired man stared at the voice recording the device laid on the table by one of his men, hands curling to fists as he tried to quell the urge to destroy it—to destroy something.

Except he didn’t. Patience. That was what you taught him.

You taught him patience like it was the best thing in the world, calmness, since he always killed people on sight without hesitation. Mikey tried, for your sake. He worked on more negotiations rather than ordering his executives to go on murder sprees, and one of those negotiations happened tonight at the jazz club.

He thought maybe by now, that he’s got the hang of it. But Mikey doesn’t know if ‘patience’ was good anymore. How was it as ‘good’ as you said, when because of patience, he lost you.

Mikey waited, and waited, and waited for his chance to get closer to you. To open up to you more than the surface level relationship you two had. He wanted to be a real husband to you, to be your lover.

Maybe calmness wasn’t something he should practice anymore. Since you succumbed so easily to what Ran forced on you.

Well, at least you knew he’ll kill Ran.

[py-dreamer]

Yea!!! Can you tell I have favorites lol

so since it's the 20th in my time, it is officially my birthday today!

But I wanted to get this out regardless so kinda count it as the previous day's ig

I will be posting something later today probably but it will most likely just be a compilation of all the cakes I've done thus far.

Ok but um on with the cake!

It's like a cheesecake and I basically copied Tengen's cake with like a jelly filling with fruit suspended in it, peaches (obviously), strawberries and blueberries cause I like them and sod it I'll put them on this goddamn cake!

The thing Wukong's sitting on is one of those peach ice creams that's gotten so popular lately with the sprinkle of pink dust thingy on top.

On either side of the cake is the fillet from the journey and the hat from the brotherhood era, one from his reckless past and one from his redemption and I just think that's neat.

The blue puffy stuff is meant to be his nimbus clouds represented as cotton candy.

I have the baiju jar in there as reference to Wukong becoming immortal again due to the all the wine made from the peaches of immortality at the festival.

The staff as a little candle was so fun! And I like pocky so I chucked them on there to fill space and it looks good so sue me

The grey thing behind the staff and balloon is meant to be the Buddha's hand that trapped him under the mountain and a reference to his imprisonment under 5 phases mountain.

Peach popsicle! Of course I had too! A lil something from the present for our (shadow) peachy friend

Mk's stone as well, had to add his son in there too. The baby ever.

(probably just a cookie but it's the thought that counts)

The two sugar cookies are meant to be his logo (aka the lmk logo) and fireworks, again taken from Tengen's cake.

The sun is a candied/tanghulu esque orange thing. Like an orange slice coated in yellow melted sugar shaped like a sun and the phoenix feather cap since I consider it iconic enough to put in here. I didn't want to put it on him, blocking a lot of the decorations so I just hung it to the side and I think I'm happy with that.

A lot more monkeys here! It was very fun popping them in! I know I only gave Mac 1 but I mean Wukong's the monkey king for a reason. Let him be a loving grandpa and invite his subjects on the cake with him. He granted them immortality by ripping their names out the book of dead, let them have a place on the cake too

Also, yes that is the origami pilgims in the bottom left, I couldn't leave them alone could I?

Now the elephant in the room (or at least in my head), yes I did use @maplesleep's matcha pancake design for flower fruit mountain.

Cake on cake. Bit much but hey, I like cake and pastries better than candy normally so win for me.

And I couldn't just make cake about Sun Wukong without mentioning his home/origins of ffm. I do genuinely love the inginuity and adorableness factor of the pancake design and hope they don't mind me slapping it on my...cheesecake? Jelly cake? Jelly-cheesecake?

(also I have to ask @maplesleep, did you watch the 3rd emirichu anime cafe video, specifically the urusei yatsura cafe as inspiration for the 'sun wukong's strawberry sponge cake punishment' parfait thingy, gorgeously drawn btw I used those drawings as inspiration quite a bit for these cakes, or saw the urusei yatsura collab anime cafe

cause I couldn't help but notice the similarities between that and the 'shinobu's maiden strength parfait' cause if you didn't that be a pretty funny coincidence lol)

So what do you think? You think I could make it as another lmk food chef for lego? Can I join the club lmao?

I do realize in retrospect the disrespect I did Mk by making his cake so plain by comparison to his mentor's. But I think that's a testament to my improvement and attention to detail when making these cakes as the days have progressed!

I consider Mk's in particular to be the most lacking and I lowkey feel so bad for my boi for not giving him the main character status he deserves.

I might draw him again, idk. Not anytime soon though, like I said, I'm quite busy now more than before and I need a break, still glad I could serve y'all another slice of cake though!

[wraithdance]

I’ll start off light with the water signs and I’ll even drag myself a lil bit 🤭

Disclaimer: astrology is not one sized fits all. it’s just a general overview of what traits you may have. Without the complete history of what experiences occurred in your life and made you who you came to be or the combination of signs in your chart, there’s no guarantee you’ll fit every tick on your sun sign.

Don’t jump me or yell at my reasoning for the following assessments. It is all anecdotal and purposefully me being a hater (or a lover if you’re sexy hehehe)

Cancers: cry babies who throw stones and hide their hands lmfao.

You lot are usually the nurturer friend of the group and you’re usually looking at the glass half full. When you haven’t done the internal work you’re prone to bringing everyone down with you as you try to claw yourself right side up when shit hits the fan. Got a vicious temper under all that softness but unless you learn to say that shit with your chest directly you will continue to wonder why you’re walking away with hurt feelings.

I give you: lint from my pocket!! Yall owe me for 30 years of therapy for the shit one of your kind pulled!!

Pisces: you wanna be a Scorpio soooooo bad don’t you 🙄

you’re easy going and cool like a gentle stream. Very laid back and go with the flow. You could stand to take things a bit more seriously instead of waiting for the universe to work out the kinks. Stop day dreaming for fucks sake! Especially when someone asks you to be serious and think ahead for once. It’s okay to be a poet or starving artist- whatever you’ve decided today but get a grip!

I give you: chewed up gum and a forehead kiss. The gum is for my ex not so gf that shit still pisses me off.

Scorpios: ah come close my sweet autumn child!

There’s always been something inside of you that feels a little unsettling in comparison to the easy breezy way other people view things. You’re either interested in understanding every nook and cranny of the world or you’re trying to find a way to harness the shit deck of cards you’ve gotten.

You play things very close to the chest. You’re like a mirage, only emotionally visible when you want to be. Usually sardonic and a bit of an edge lord but it’s not a joke when you say you’ll kill for your loved ones. If you’re an October Scorpio yall are usually more inclined to do a lil assault and battery. November and there may or may not be poison at the bottom of an enemies cup. Figuratively of course!

Layered and misunderstood enough that you seek out games to play just to test the waters. I’m not gonna say stop that shit because I’d be a hypocrite lmfao. Do some internal work or you’re going to spiral and make the rest of us look bad. Stop trying to fuck people who don’t get you or your depth it’ll only make you feel worse 🙄

I give you: a coupon for therapy and my number (call me I like that spooky shit 🥴)

[seaofreverie]

Sparkstember Day 19: Lil' Beethoven (Ride 'Em Cowboy)

First of all, let this very important fact be known: the love I have for all three albums in the Lil' Beethoven trilogy cannot be overstated. I think I can safely call them my favourite pieces of art ever made. You know, when you look forward to something and it not only lives up to all your expectations but it's also just SO SO much more? Something about this neoclassical / dada / deconstruction of pop music / whatever-you-should-even-call-it approach is absolutely PERFECTLY suited for my tastes, and I didn't even know I was looking for something EXACTLY like this until I found it.

I think the circumstances of my first hearing of this album are pretty funny and something I got pretty lucky with actually (I often think about this with Sparks in general, as much as I wish I've known about them sooner I also do feel like they appeared in my life when I needed that the most. But anyway.) I was very eagerly looking forward to hearing it and finally seeing for myself what the genius of this album is all about. But I insisted that I can only do it through a physical format because yesss, let's make it even more *special*! The moment I've been waiting for! So yeah let's gooo, I need to wait until my CD arrives in the mail (that was one of the longest weeks of my life). And then I started to wonder, well, maybe I actually won't like it that much. To hype myself up to this extent and then be severly dissapointed - would have sucked!

Well, I was NOT dissapointed. Instead I was perplexed, confused, but also very intrigued and quite, ok not just quite, *completely* amazed already. That was the initial reaction and I think it's a rare but very beautiful moment when this happens - no need to *fully* grasp it right away, but enough to be all like "oh that was SOMETHING. I need more." As I said after that first listen (and I actually have my whole LIVE reaction to hearing LB written down lmao, that's how much of a big deal this was for me), I felt like it actually has to grow on me a bit still, gradually but surely with each next listen, rather than the 1st listen being THE prime listening experience. And that was very true! But it wasn't even gradual, it was very fast, seriously. And something very important that stood out to me right away too were the melodies - something about them, and that continues into HYL and ECOTD too. It's this classic feeling of: this always existed, or at least it feels like I've known it for years already. And as I listen more and become more familiar with them the magic still grows.

It's of course no coincidence to me that an album that relies so much on extreme levels of repetition is so addicting, even hypnotising. And once upon a time I thought that I couldn't like something that's too repetitive and therefore could be considered monotonous or "predictable". But nothing is predictable about LB actually. (Besides... ok, I'll get to that one bit later). But yeah, it's good for the brain. And it's been said before by others but this music definitely has this certain neurodivergent appeal thanks to all this, and, well, I love that aspect of it so much and I definitely relate to it on some level that goes even deeper than just song topics and instrumentation choices. It's in the structure and the fundaments of it all too.

I legally can't finish this without a dedicated paragraph to the 2004 Live In Stockholm performance because HOLY SHIT. Feeling so lucky again that all three of these albums got this treatment and we have recordings of these half-concert-half-performance-art pieces that we can now marvel at. I will say that like, a pretty big part of the sum of the appeal that LB has as an album is stored in this show and its visual and narrative elaboration on its themes. And also it's just so fun to watch! Sometimes I thought about how this might be an even better introduction to LB / this era of Sparks / Sparks in general than the actual album but well, never had a chance to test that and you know. Maybe shouldn't recommend Sparks with one of the most leftfield things there is to be found from them. Either way, very good, very important, felt like experiencing the power of LB for the first time all over again.

So now, please hear my exact reasonings for why I so deeply love (almost) every single one of these songs......

The Rhythm Thief

NO song made such a big impression on me the first time I heard it as this. I might have gotten more used to it after all this time but man, The Rhythm Thief, you will always be the realest one to me. This is what made me look forward to the whole album so much and convinced me that it would be like nothing else I've heard before. And that turned out to be so very beautifully true!

How Do I Get To Carnegie Hall?

I could listen to this one a hundred times in a row over and over and not get sick of it one bit. That's it, idk what else to add, beautiful and ethereal in every way

What Are All These Bands So Angry About?

Mostly I just want to direct everyone's attention to the bridge section, at the 2:26-2:52 time mark, which as far as I can say is the most heavenly piece of music ever made. Feeling like that Winnie The Pooh soul leaving his body gif each time I hear this

I Married Myself

Aromantic anthem, to me. Not that much to say actually but it's just, a very sweet and pretty song even when it might be taken as just this sort of ironic piece, I think it's this situation where a song can be taken more or less literally and it doesn't lose anything, rather the sincerity takes on a new sort of meaning? Because yes, maybe this hyperbolic situation (marrying yourself) COULD be the solution to the heartbreak of failed relationships. Ever thought about that??? Ok, stopping right here and leaving my I Married Myself analysis for another day

Ride 'Em Cowboy

My mind is blank on this one suddenly. But it's so good believe me. I love it a lot. It just has this LB spirit that makes it very addicting to listen to

My Baby's Taking Me Home

This was sort of the first Sparks song I've ever heard, or maybe that I quote-unquote purposefully listened to, and I think that's pretty important considering that it was the moment that ultimately lead to... all this. This song has always been incredibly beautiful and powerful to me, but lately it just makes me emotional to an extent that makes it hard to listen to most of the time. I WOULD sell all my material possessions for even one chance to experience this song live by the way

Your Call Is Very Important To Us. Please Hold

Earns soooo much as a live version, but even without that I think it's genius in the same way as The Rhythm Thief, and maybe the most disquieting piece here overall... If we ignore the next one maybe

Ugly Guys With Beautiful Girls

Sitting there hearing the intro of this song all like "huh, this is so chill and calm... too calm..." and then being hit with, well, everything that's going on in this song afterwards was truly THE MOMENT back in the day (and re: the predictability thing. idk though, it's not like, really an issue). Later on I decided that this sort of narrative nature of the song makes it have less replayability value than the rest (???) but I abandoned that opinion soon enough, thank god. I love it how long it took me to realize that this song and the ending of MBTMH are the only times when drums appear on this entire album (I mean no, I'm not very proud of that fact actually, as the self-proclaimed biggest LB fan in my area. And The Rhythm Thief literally saying "say goodbye to the beat"... come on man). So yes, sometimes less is more! I adore this song now it's such a treat I would gladly terrorize my neighbours with it

Suburban Homeboy

Ok, I'm sorry Suburban Homeboy fans but this is the only song here that I'm not a HUGE fan of. I still think it's brilliant and an incredibly fitting ending for the whole thing - the mood whiplash is amazing as this is the only "vaguely happy sounding" song on here, per my words from months back. And what's better than yelling WE ARE THE SUBURBAN HOMEBOYS! (I'm actually awaiting today's Sparks karaoke rating reveal very impatiently lol the reveal happened before I posted this and I'm very happy about it)

One more actually, a quick word on Wunderbar because it gave us two things that we might have not been able to do without: 1) this whole album actually (the fact that LB exists because of Wunderbar giving the Maels the idea to continue meddling with this style. Up there as one of my fav pieces of Sparks trivia) 2) anddddd the 21×21 performance of it of course

[rask]

bos vs fla – game 7 [4/30/23]

100 last hug on the ice

[vaguely-concerned]

the fact that irving canonically survives through the end of asunder to be at wynne's funeral is so fucking funny to me. nothing but love and respect for MY unstoppable cockroach morally grey machiavellian mage dad!!! he's survived in his position through multiple attempted rites of annulment and blood mage plots popping up left right and center around him. the chantry keeps trying to stamp him out but his dodge game is simply out of this world, divine. civil wars, political machinations and minefields, chantry atrocities, this wily old motherfucker is dodging and weaving his way through it all, not-quite-no-hits-taken-running-it-but-honestly-close-enough-under-the-circumstances style. if solas does succeed in tearing down the veil I would fully believe that one of the like three people still alive at the end of it all would be a very weary 90 year old first enchanter irving going 'oh this shit again huh'. the maker has cursed him for his hubris and his paperwork is never finished (affectionate, it's fine he canonically loves paperwork)

[synthshenanigans]

someone had to do it

[lopsidedtreetrunks]

Finally FINALLY got round to finishing this art for @little-cereal-draws Button House Dog Rescue au! PLS go visit their blog for more info for their au!!

Dogs on the ground are (L-R): Captain - German Shepherd Kitty - Pomeranian Pat - Corgi Fanny - Chihuahua Thomas - Shetland Sheepdog Humphrey - Golden Retriever Robin - Irish Wolfhound Mary - Dalmation Julian - Weimaraner

I also hope you dont mind I added my own headcanons for the other ghosts in the photo frames. Mostly based off pure vibes 😆

In the long frame are the plague dogs; I think they would have been all rescued from a puppy farm together. L-R (for the ghosts that dont have names I've just used the actors' names so you know which is which): Jemima - Husky (puppy) Walter - Rottweiler Katy - Bichon Frise Mick - Boxer Nigel - King Charles Cavalier Spaniel Geoff - Afghan Hound Agnes - Staffordshire Bull Terrier John - Chow Chow Martha - Poodle

Then the ones in the circular frames (L-R): Annie - Jack Russel Terrier William - British Bulldog Maddocks - Whippet (the only one not based on pure vibes alone, but it'd have been remiss of me to not make our other Yorkshire lad a whippet bsjsjdk)

Anyway this took so long bc i took it upon myself to make a million more dogs bjdsfk I hope you enjoy it nonetheless :D

[risingsunresistance]

my bag may not be as ✨aesthetic✨ as some people's but IDC IM HAVING SO MUCH FUN!!!!!!! all my little things on display yayyyyy

wouldnt be complete without my "nether star" on the side :3c

[entomolog-t]

GtWAC Day 1:

Reblog your go to comfort fic

If you have not read The Stranding (and by extension, The Rescue) by the darling @belethlegwen you are deeply missing out! The sheer amount of content is truly a blessing, and considering its still being updated?? ASDFJHSLK

Belle is an incredible story teller, and this shines through in her writing so well I feel like I'm getting flashbanged by talent.

You know that typical writing advice about not introducing too many characters, especially early on as it divides the reader's attention?? BELLE STOMPS ON THAT.

AND

IT

WORKS

I genuinely can't get over how much I am in love with her characters. I must admit- I am the typical reader with one too many bonks to the head that can't seem to focus on/ remember/ care about more than 3-5 characters- that is not the case here.

Every character she introduces has my interest piqued- each one feeling alive and at home in their setting. And its not just likeable in the sense of "oh I'd be friends with them" (and she absolutely has many characters I'd love to be friends with)- its these raw and real characterizations that make you like them as a character.

They have their own mystery to them too- even if its not direct. Her characters make you wonder more about their past and why they act the way they do. They can be frustrating, immature, stubborn, even cruel- but they feel so deeply real.

Both written works from Sizeable Ship Wrecks are among my favorite things I've read- both inside and outside of the G/t sphere to the point I feel as though I could shamelessly recommend this to someone outside of the G/t community and be confident they would enjoy it.

[goobie-goobert]

His name is Penis and he was born without a brain💔💔

FUUUUU I ACCIDENTALLY USED UP ALL MY FREKSGINY TAG SPACE YAPPINGGGGGGG GAAAAAAAAAA

COUGH

Errmmmmm listen to Keep Myself Alive by Get Scared

Do yr daily click

Annnndddddd…

Have a good! ᕙ(`▽´)ᕗ

[inkblot-inc]

I've said Skitch isn't a perfectionist and encourages making mistakes on their own projects with trial and error, but there is one thing to note:

Skitch's passion for their job and what they do has no bounds. If they have a project in the works, they're going to see it through to the end no matter how long it takes.

This, to me, stems from an underlying insecurity for Skitch, not in terms of their ability to do their job, but the validity of their job and how serious people take them, specifically higher profile people like Wanda and Kate (who they are around regularly).

Again, we know skitch is very light-hearted or easygoing individual, but they're very serious and even defensive about their job as a metalworker because they believe that it is no less valuable than anything anybody else does and this is what they want to do. It's also important to note that Wanda is not the first "high-profile" person they've made a connection to, and that connection going sour presumably led to this insecurity.

That's why I think it matters so much to Skitch that Wanda is so interested in their projects, that she gives good input, that she drops by TMD as often as she does, that she even wants to hear about their colleagues that are around Skitch. Wanda's so involved in Skitch's, work life and that she's never side-eyed Skitch's job or question the merit for it.

It also helps that, as a jeweler (a sub-section of metalworking), Wanda understands and respects all that goes into Skitch's job more than the average person.

[sansloii]

my mental state since i've gotten home:

[emry-stars-art]

Tried my hand at making the drink from the card and did you know you can under cook it and have raw egg chunks? Then take that and over cook it to have cooked egg chunks? ;-;

I love the flavors and what parts came out smooth :,)

I'll be trying again until I get this right <3

NOO that's so unfortunate 😂😭 yeah you gotta make sure the milk is HOT and mix it QUICK so the egg gets all blended in

My secret tips and tricks (that wouldn't fit on the card) is I take out the uh. Like the more solid part of the egg white? If you know what I'm talking about? The part that's not gonna blend easily, because I use my little milk frother wand thing to blend it together. And if I leave that part of the egg in it just gets caught in the tines or whatever of the whisk part and it's a PAIN to clean. So doubly convenient. Yeah if you have an electric whisk/handheld milk frother it's also gonna be easier

Good luck, it's such a good drink when it works out!

[du-hjarta-skulblaka]

I have had a VERY busy week (positive but very very socially draining) and I am ABOUT to have a few days of work and then ANOTHER very busy week (work, 2 different appointments and a job interview) and I just wanna take a moment and remind myself that I may take longer to do things than average but im still DOING them and it's. Okay to still feel tired several days after making a phonecall