#blownout

[wretchedlittlething]

I need my back popped, blown out, and snuggled in big strong arms. Preferably in that order but honestly I'm not all that picky.

[nerdraging4point0]

Scorpion and the Scales // Chapter Thirteen // A MIW/Bad Omens PolyAU

Tropes and Tags: why choose romance, MF, MFM, MFMM, MM, instalove, too much sex, tattooed musicians, polyverse, friends to lovers.

Content warning: 18+ only minors DNI. PinV, PinA, oral (f!recieveing, m!recieving), threesomes, light BDSM, voyeurism, exhibitionism, partner sharing, jealousy, angst.

This work below is fictionalized ideas and stories involving real people but does not directly reflect their thoughts, feelings, or behaviors. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction.

Taglist (see MP to be added): @ladyveronikawrites @synthetic-wasp-570 @beaker1636 @thesazzb @itsjustemily @vinyardmauro @circle-with-me @tearfallpixie @poisongirl616 @shilohrosechicken @th0ughts-pr4yers @meliferafaerie @letmeadoreyoux @latenightmusiclover @transparentwitchnightmare @cookiesupplier @concreteemo @emofangirl02 @rumoured-whispers @somebodyels3 @jakeygvf21 @dominuslunae @sunsshinesunny @jilliemiw86 @h0rr0rqu3en @yournecessaryevil @bloody-delusion-expert @mortallyuniquepeach @missduffsblog

As I glided into the dimly-lit restaurant, I felt a familiar twinge of self-consciousness about the daring ensemble I had picked for tonight. Being with Noah and Chris had given me a confidence in my skin I thought I had lost long ago, but now as the hostess guides me through tables toward Rick I can feel it all coming back again. The short, figure-hugging black dress clung to my curves, the hemline barely grazing the top of my thighs, while the plunging neckline dipped dangerously low, adorned with a cascade of glittering gold jewelry that drew the eye straight down to my chest. I saw some of the men and women turn their heads to get a good look at me, but I kept my eyes on the back of the hostess head trying to keep my legs from shaking.

Paired with towering stilettos and my hair blownout and pinned back so it fell over one shoulder, I knew it was worth all the time I had taken deciding what to wear. Earlier, I snapped and shared a quick "fit check" photo in the group chat with Chris and Noah, who had responded with a flurry of suggestive messages - clearly, they approved. But as I approached the booth where Rick was sitting, his reaction was all I cared about. 

I watched, amused, as he fumbled to stand from the booth hitting his knees under the table, his cheeks flushing crimson as he stammered to find his words, his gaze repeatedly drawn to the tantalizing expanse of bare skin on display. That. That was the moment I knew I had made the perfect choice.

When I finally sat down and he managed to learn syllables again, Rick started on with his usual conversation topic. The more he talked, the more visibly relaxed he became, as if the mere act of conversing was a soothing balm for his troubled mind. Yet, despite his growing comfort, there was an underlying unease in his body language. He avoided making direct eye contact, instead staring intently at his clasped hands, fidgeting with the rings on his fingers and the hair tie wrapped around his wrist.

Just then, the waitress arrived at the table, moving with an unusual haste to take down our order. Rick immediately launched back into his customary topics of conversation, the words spilling forth with a newfound fluency. But as he droned on, I reached across the table, gently placing a hand atop his own. The simple gesture was enough to silence him.

 "Rick," I said, meeting his gaze with a reassuring steadiness, "as much as I love hearing about your research and new topics of interest, we really need to talk." 

Rick hesitated, his words coming out in a nervous stammer. "Eve, really, I-I don't think it's necessary," he managed, his gaze darting around the room in clear discomfort.

"Rick, look at me." Reluctantly, he dragged his steel-colored eyes up to meet mine, the raw emotion simmering within them impossible to ignore. His breath uneven and shaky

I could see it all playing out in the depths of his gaze - the hunger, the longing, the thinly-veiled desire that threatened to consume us both. Rick's eyes roamed hungrily over my body, drinking in every inch, and I knew at that moment that it wasn't only dinner he craved. The intensity of his stare leaving me breathless, heart pounding in anticipation.

As I traced delicate circles on the back of his hand paired with my legs subtly shifting under the table as my stiletto heel seductively caressed his calf. I had him squirming in his seat.

“Look, I'm gonna be honest with you, Rick. I find you so attractive, and I’d be lying if I said you watching me the other day wasn’t the hottest experience I have ever had.”

“You have two boyfriends that fuck you constantly. I know! I get the photos and videos to prove it.” He said. Snapping his mouth shut as the waitress set our food in front of us.

“Yes, I do. But that doesn’t stop me from being attracted to you.” I let go of his hand leaning back in the booth. “Honestly, it’s a crime that all of you attractive men find each other and form heavy metal bands. Girls like me don’t stand a chance.” I’m teasing him and he knows it, the sly smile tugging at his lips. We ate our food in silence for a while, halfway through and I couldn’t finish another bite, dropping my fork on the table I wiped my lips before taking a deep breath and asking him the only thing I wanted to ask since I walked in. 

“What do you want, Ricky?” The intensity of his piercing gaze left me feeling flustered and uncertain, as if I had been transported back to my awkward teenage years when the mere thought of physical intimacy filled me with nervous anticipation. Yet, there was an undeniable allure to the way his icy blue eyes bore into mine, a silent plea that hinted at a deep, primal desire. I wanted him, there was no doubt about that. 

“I want you.” 

***

Rick's uncompromising perfectionism was a constant presence in his life, coloring every facet of his thoughts and actions. He held himself to an impossibly high standard, endlessly critiquing his own abilities and performance with a ruthless, unflinching eye. And now, as he hastily ushered us through the front door of his home, that same unyielding drive for flawlessness was obvious. His lips crashed against mine with a desperate, consuming hunger, his body pressing me firmly against the wall in a display of raw, primal passion.

He paused, pulling away as we both caught our breath, the sudden break in our passionate embrace leaving me yearning for more. I expected him to pull me close again, to capture my lips with his own once more in a searing, sensual kiss, but instead he simply stood there, his expression almost dumbfounded as he gazed down at me. Refusing to let the moment slip away, I leaned in closer, my eyes fluttering closed as I tenderly placed my lips against the intricate rose tattoo adorning the right side of his neck. The soft caress of my mouth against his skin caused his body to initially tense up, the delicate touch seemingly electrifying his senses. I could feel the rapid pulse beating beneath the delicate ink, a physical manifestation of the desire and longing coursing through him. For a heartbeat, he remained frozen, his breath hitching in his throat, before finally relaxing into my embrace, surrendering to the intimate connection sparking between us.

I wanted more of him. Reaching down, I grasped the soft, worn hem of his hoodie, fingertips brushing against the faded fabric as I looked deep into his eyes, a silent plea to continue. Without hesitation, Ricky reached behind his back, peeling the sweatshirt off his broad shoulders, shirt included as the garment sliding down his arms to pool at his feet. My lips dropped to the tattoos at his collarbone, trailing delicate kisses along the inked lines, exploring the planes of his chest. Slowly, my tongue extended, flicking at the sensitive nub of his nipple, drawing a hiss of pleasure from his parted lips.

My body trembled as Ricky's soft, sensual kisses traced a delicate path along my skin. Starting at the delicate curve where my chin met my throat, his lips slowly, deliberately worked their way downward, each touch igniting a spark within me. The tender caress of his mouth on the exposed, sensitive skin of my collarbone sent tingles racing across my flesh. Circling back up, he nuzzled the shell of my ear, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine. Gently, he took my earlobe between his teeth, tugging ever so slightly, the subtle pressure eliciting a deep, shuddering gasp from my parted lips. Arching my back, my chest pressed firmly against his, our bodies molding together in a sensual embrace. His strong, calloused hands began to roam, gliding down the gentle slopes of my sides before slipping underneath the silky fabric of my dress. His fingertips danced across the bare, silken skin of my thighs, igniting a smoldering fire that threatened to consume me.

Breathless, we broke apart, Ricky's eyes burning with a fierce and primal hunger.  "We'll need to go upstairs," he growled, voice thick with barely-restrained desire, sending a delicious shiver down my spine. I could only nod as I stepped out of my heels, his fingers slowly lacing between my own as he took my hand. Chris and Noah's hands always consumed mine, Rick felt more balanced in my grasp, his thumb rubbing slow circles as we climbed the stairs to his master bedroom.

The short distance to the stairs felt like an eternity, I thought I might burst from the intensity of it all.  We had been friends for a while now and even though I had been to his house before I don’t ever recall having seen his room. He led me down the hall before pushing open the door, at first it was dark and hard to see, with a flip of the switch suddenly the room was bathed in dim lights. The décor was not what I pictured - rather than an overbearing gothic aesthetic, there were only subtle, tasteful accents adorning the walls. The simple bed was a minimalist's dream, draped in dark, moody bedding of black sheets and charcoal gray blankets.

Rick's strong arms wrapped firmly around my waist, pulling me flush against his solid frame as his hips pressed firmly into the small of my back. I could feel the warmth of his breath caressing my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. His teeth grazed my ear as his voice melted into my skin, “I love the dress, but it would be better on my floor.” 

His soft lips left sensual kisses as he trailed down the bend of my neck, his lips ghosting over my shoulder as the strap of my dress slowly slid free, exposing more of my bare skin to him. A thrill of nervous excitement coursed through me as I felt the fabric begin to slip from my body, my hands instinctively reaching up to keep myself covered, to maintain some semblance of modesty. But Rick's calloused palms gently grasped my wrists, stopping me in my tracks. "Don't bother," he murmured, his voice low and dripping with desire. "I want to see you. All of you, just like I imagined." His fingers deftly continued their work, peeling away the last barriers between us as his eyes hungrily roamed over every inch of my newly exposed form.

Ricky's hands roamed with a firm, purposeful touch, his fingers caressing and exploring every curve. Spinning me around I gasped when he bent his head to take one of my tight nipples into his mouth. Pushing his body against me as he blindly led us to the edge of his bed. He released my breast with a loud, wet pop, the saliva left behind causing it to perk up even more in the cool air. My hips instinctively rolled against him, desperate for more of his attention. 

He smiled pushing me back till I was lying flat on his bed. His free hand settled on my hip, pressing me down into the mattress softly pinning me in place. 

"Don't worry, baby girl," he murmured, his voice low and dripping with promise. "We'll get there. I'm not like Chris - I like to take my time."

My body was a quivering, panting mess of heightened sensation as Rick's calloused fingers caressed my skin, sending electric tingles through every nerve ending. His rough stubble grazed my delicate flesh, eliciting a shudder of pleasure that radiated outward from where his lips trailed their way down my torso. Every movement was slow and deliberate as he meticulously removed the last shreds of clothing that covered me, his perfectly arched eyebrows raising in a dark, predatory expression as he let out a low, rumbling chuckle. "Look at that, already wet for me," he growled, his voice dripping with a primal hunger that made my pulse quicken and my core throb with desperate need.

His skilled fingers deftly glided across my most sensitive areas, sending tingles of anticipation rippling through my body. With a feather-light touch, he caressed the delicate skin of my inner thighs, inching ever closer to the throbbing heat at my core.

I clutched the bed sheets in a vice-like grip, my knuckles turning stark white as I fought the overwhelming urge to grab him and guide his fingers exactly where I craved his touch the most.

Just when I thought I couldn't stand the delicious agony a moment longer, he finally traced the outline of my sex with his index finger, applying the barest hint of pressure. The sensation had me crying out his name in a desperate, needy whimper, my hips instinctively rolling to meet his touch. 

The sensation of his fingers sliding down my thighs, over my knees, and down to my ankles sent tingles of anticipation through my body. I could feel the goosebumps rising on my skin as his touch ignited my nerves. His eyes were intently focused, pupils dilated with desire, and his eyebrows raised slightly as he glanced up at me, gauging my reactions. The way his hands then slid back up the other leg, retracing the same path, had me trembling in anticipation. When his palms finally reached the bare skin of my belly, his thumbs grazed over the delicate metal of my navel piercing, sending a shiver through me. He bowed his head, planting soft, featherlight kisses along the curve of my hips, slowly working his way up until no part of my stomach was left untouched.

 "Rick," I panted, my body squirming and writhing under his tantalizing caresses. He let out a low, throaty chuckle, his large hands cupping my breasts as his fingers pinched and rolled my sensitive nipples between them. The combined sensations had me arching my back, desperate for more of his touch, my mind hazy with building desire.

The intricate patterns of his tattoos traced delicate pathways down the contours of my body, igniting sparks of pleasure with each caress. His strong, calloused hands glided over the soft curves of my figure, eliciting a shiver of anticipation as they cupped the supple swell of my ass. Kneading the firm flesh of my thighs, he slowly coaxed my legs apart, exposing me to his hungry gaze.

A wicked gleam danced in his eyes as he leaned in, his warm breath ghosting across my trembling skin. "So much to touch," he purred, the rich timbre of his voice sending delicious shivers down my spine.

“So much to taste.” His talented tongue flicked out, teasing the throbbing clit at my core. The sensation was electric, drawing a desperate cry from my lips as white-hot desire flooded my senses. The wicked smile curling at his lips sent a delicious shiver down my spine as he gazed at me with those intense, smoldering eyes. 

"You like that?" he asked, his voice low and dripping with barely-contained desire. I could only manage a desperate, needy whine in response, my eyes clamped shut as I waited in breathless anticipation for his touch.

 When his fingers finally slid between my slick, swollen folds, parting me open, the sensation was exquisite. His thumb gently rubbing circles over my throbbing clit, a chorus of whimpers and whines falling from my lips as my hips rotated and arched into his skilled caresses.

 "Rick," I pleaded, voice thick with need, "Please." And then, blissfully, he sank his middle finger deep inside my quivering, welcoming heat, the gentle, rhythmic movements of his hand sending shockwaves of ecstasy radiating through my entire being. I was utterly lost to the sensations, my world narrowing down to the exquisite friction and pressure of his touch, the coiling tension building to a fever pitch within my core.

I was teetering on the edge, my every nerve ending alight with building ecstasy. "Would you like to come now, baby girl?" he asked, gazing up at me with those captivating blue eyes that seemed to bore into my soul. "Please," I begged breathlessly, my voice quivering with need. "That's all I want.”

The coil of tension within my core tightened even further as he slowly slid another slender, dexterous finger inside me, curling it to stroke the soft, sensitive walls inside me. My breathing grew ragged and uneven, escaping my lips in a series of desperate, wanton moans as his name tumbled out unbidden, rendering me a half-crazed, thoroughly debauched mess. 

Withdrawing his fingers to the very tip, I felt suddenly stretched and filled as he added a third, the added girth and pressure stimulating every nerve ending and making my head spin. I couldn't hold back any longer, grinding my hips frantically against the steady, relentless rhythm of his hand as the coiled spring of tension and pleasure deep within me finally snapped, my thighs trembling uncontrollably with the sheer force of the climactic release that washed over me in crashing waves. Every muscle went taut and then slack, my body momentarily limp and boneless.

As Rick rose from the bed, his eyes locked onto my trembling form with a predatory intensity. I could feel his gaze roaming over me, drinking in every quiver and shudder that ran through my body. Then, with agonizing slowness, he began to undo the button and zipper of his pants, the metallic sounds echoing in the charged silence. I found myself unable to look away, transfixed as the fabric pooled down his hips, revealing more and more of him. Rick had told me before about the videos and photos, and how often he'd gotten off to them. Now, as I drank in the sight of him, I couldn't help but wonder - what did he truly look like, feel like, taste like?

The curiosity had been building for weeks, a persistent itch that demanded to be scratched. I couldn't stop thinking about it - the way his shaft would feel sliding between my lips, the salty-sweet taste of him coating my tongue. As I knelt before him, my eyes locked hungrily on his rapidly hardening cock, I knew I had to know. What would he feel like in my mouth? What would his unique flavor be? The anticipation was overwhelming, a delicious tension coiling low in my belly. With a trembling hand, I reached out to grasp his throbbing member, marveling at the silky smooth skin and the thrum of his pulse. 

"I've always wanted to know how your mouth feels," Rick murmured, his voice laced with a tremor of barely-restrained desire. "I've seen you suck his cock plenty of times - he always seems to enjoy himself so much." His admission sent a thrill through me; he had been thinking about this too, wondering what it would be like.

 "I've thought about it too," I purred, giving his shaft a gentle squeeze. "I wanna know how you taste." Unable to hold back any longer, I eagerly leaned forward and sealed my lips around the weeping tip, swirling my tongue to savor that first tantalizing hint of flavor. Then, with a soft, needy moan, I took him deeper, enveloping his rigid length in the wet heat of my mouth. 

As his head touched the back of my throat Rick’s face contorted as he let out a guttural groan, his fingers instantly tangling in my hair. I looked up through my lashes barely making eye contact with him before his head was tipping back. Moaning and sighing as I bobbed my head back and forth.

 "Fuck, I see why he likes it so much," Ricky growled, captivated by the way my glossed lips wrapped around him. "Look at your beautiful face taking my cock in your mouth so well," he praised, voice dripping with lust.

Sinking into the steady, rhythmic motions, I savored the delightful weight of him on my tongue, the sensation so wonderfully satisfying. Hearing the deep, guttural moans and lavish praise spilling from Rick's lips only fueled my desire to please. I moaned around him, giggling as I felt his thighs tremble and his grip in my hair tightening with each passing second. But just as I was sure he was about to let go, he suddenly grasped my face, his palms cradling my cheeks to hold my mouth wide open. With agonizing slowness, he withdrew himself, his features relaxing as he spoke. "If you keep going, I won't get the chance to fuck you, and believe me, that's been my priority all night." 

Helping me to my feet, he then stalked towards me, his predatory gaze pinning me in place until the backs of my legs hit the mattress, sending me tumbling back onto the soft surface. As his body hovered over mine, that same look of comprehension crossed his face once more before he abruptly pulled away, crossing the room to retrieve a foil packet from his dresser.  He didn’t need it but I appreciated the forethought. 

Reaching me in just a few swift steps, he grasped my face firmly between his weathered, calloused palms, his touch both gentle and possessive. I could feel the warmth of his skin against my cheeks as his thumbs tenderly caressed my face, wiping away the smeared remnants of my makeup that had no doubt been running down my flushed, tear-stained cheeks. There was a softness in his expression, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips, as if he was trying to soothe and comfort me. But the intensity in his gaze betrayed the barely-contained passion and desire burning within him. And without any further preamble, he surged forward, his lips crashing against mine in a fierce, aggressive kiss. His tongue pushed past my parted lips, invading my mouth in a claiming, dominating gesture that left me breathless and trembling. The kiss was unapologetically demanding, leaving no room for hesitation or restraint, as if he simply couldn't hold himself back any longer. 

As we broke apart, Ricky's grip on my face tightened, his fingers digging into my cheeks as he held my gaze with an iron intensity. His grip was bruising, almost painfully so, yet I craved it, craved the way he claimed me, staked his possession over me with that fierce, dominant gaze. There was an animalistic quality to him, a predatory intensity that made my pulse race and my breath catch. I was utterly, completely at his mercy, and the knowledge both terrified and thrilled me. His eyes bore into my own, dark and primal, revealing a deep, carnal need that stirred something primal within me in turn. I was powerless to look away, transfixed by the raw, unyielding command in his voice as he growled, "Keep your eyes on me. I'm the only one here." His words were a demand, brooking no disagreement, and I found myself nodding mutely, mesmerized by the sheer force of his presence.

Releasing his tight grip, he adjusted his body with mine, settling between my legs as he reached down, lining himself up with my eager, trembling cunt. Slowly, so tantalizingly slow, he began to press himself inside me, the almost overwhelming sensation of my soft, yielding walls stretching to accommodate his thick length had me gasping. My eyes drifted shut involuntarily, a sudden, light slap to her cheek brought them snapping back open in surprise. Hovering over me, Rick braced himself on his hands planted firmly on either side of my head, his piercing gaze intense and utterly unyielding as he held me captive beneath him. The way he filled me, stretched me, dominated me- it was all-consuming, overwhelming my senses until I could focus on nothing else.

 "I said eyes on me," he growled, my arms linked around his shoulders as he began to move, needing the support of his body to keep from being swept away by the sensations he was evoking. He was a talker, and I reveled in the stream of praises and dirty words that spilled from his lips, his voice the final push that sent me hurtling over the edge.

"You take it so good, baby. I can see why they like fucking you so much," he growled, and every part of me shuddered at the possessive, hungry tone.

He reached back, grabbing the leg I had secured around his waist to bring it up over his shoulder. The heated stretch at the back of my thigh made my eyes roll back. He thrust into me harder, a desperate cry falling out of my mouth. My nails raked down his pale skin, leaving crescent-moon indentations in their wake as the familiar rush of the orgasm washed over me in waves, the intensity of the moment leaving my body trembling and breathless in his arms.

“Ricky, your cock feels so good!” I cried out for him, fingers tightening into the sheets. He gave a hard thrust and I gripped the back of his arms scratching down his skin as my head fell to the side and mouth fell open.

“That’s right, baby girl. I want you to remember who makes you feel like this.” Ricky growled, his voice low and gravelly. “Say my name.” He emphasized his point with another hard, deliberate thrust, eliciting a moan of pure ecstasy.

“Oh fuck….Rick.” The pleasure was bordering on too much, my senses overloaded, but I craved more - more of his touch, more of his dominance, more of the way he made my body ignite with unbridled lust.

“Again.” he commanded, punctuating each word with another thrust, and I complied, chanting his name like a primal mantra.

“Fuck, Ricky. Feels so good.” His movements became hard and quick as I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, a metallic copper tang touching my tongue.

“Such a good girl for me aren’t you baby.” Ricky purred, his finger tracing the curve of my flushed cheek.  “You gonna come one more time for me baby?”

I nodded my head frantically “Yes, Rick. I wanna come for you.”

We moved together in a passionate frenzy, skin slapping against skin. I could practically feel the sensations radiating outward, reverberating in every cell of my being. It was a high unlike any other - more intoxicating than the strongest liquor, more euphoric than the most potent drug. I was completely immersed in the moment, every nerve ending alight with the exquisite pleasure.

The intense, overwhelming sensations washed over me in a sudden, all-encompassing wave. It felt as if my very chest was being cracked open, a searing heat radiating outward from the center of my body and spreading like wildfire through my limbs. My vision blurred and darkened, narrowing to pinpricks of white behind my tightly clenched eyelids as the world around me faded away. The sounds of my environment became muffled and distant, my ears ringing as my mouth fell open in a silent, gaping gasp. Every nerve ending felt electrified, my toes curling and back arching uncontrollably as the sheer intensity of the experience threatened to consume me. Rick was not far behind sloppy and shaking, his back sticky with sweat as he cried out stilling inside me. 

Breathless and spent, I laid beneath him, my chest rising and falling in rhythm with his own. I watched, transfixed, as his mouth opened and closed, panting heavily from the exertion. Reaching up, I cradled his face in my hands, our foreheads pressed together in a moment of intimate connection. In that hazy, euphoric aftermath, I knew I was completely and utterly done for. This wasn't just a fleeting tryst - this was the start of something deeper, more consuming. That single taste of him, that brief culmination of our pent-up desires, had left an indelible mark. I craved more, needed more, in a way I'd never experienced before. This wasn't just physical - there was an emotional component, a soul-deep longing that went beyond the carnal. And now that I'd had that first tantalizing sample, I knew I'd never be able to simply let it go, to walk away and forget. The very thought of losing this, of having to go back to a life without him, filled me with a sense of dread and desperation. 

Reluctantly, I watched as Rick withdrew, a plaintive whine escaping my lips at the sudden, hollow feeling of emptiness. As he searched his drawers for a fresh change of clothes, I found myself in a state of uncertainty, unsure of what to do next. Should I stay, maybe have more of him? Or should I go, to spare myself the inevitable heartache that would come from growing too attached? At that moment, I truly didn't know - all I knew was that I was in far too deep, the harm already done. There was no going back now.

[nocentis]

Sown Fresh to Bloom┆ X793

╳ ┆A beautiful dawn. Its fingers splayed over the horizon in brilliant golden streaks, flexing heavenward in decorous praise. Their warmth graced his face; cupped his cheeks with the airiness of a lover's caress and tilted his chin toward infinity. A gentle so overindulgent and undeserved.

Still, he felt the spread of his own fingers in time with the sun's stretch. A vigor reignited from skin to soul. He felt victory and defeat in equal measures. Love and life at last, free to take, and yet he'd never felt less qualified to seize either.

Familiar steps approached. He need not turn to know. She was the only one who might seek him out now, as the rest were well on their way. He watched them embark just before new light, smiling fond, waving kind, yet he could only see past as they walked toward future.

“When will you be leaving?”

Meredy chuffed, somewhere between a sigh and a laugh, like she wasn't expecting his ask. “Is that your way of telling me the guild’s disbanded?”

“No,” he answered honest, “Everyone is leaving. I just assumed...“

"Right. You assumed," she chastised, never shy. “Where will I go?” She mused, stabbing forth, “I have no village to return to. Few other friends, and none more important than you. I’ve got nowhere to be but by your side. Why would I leave now?”

“You've grown. Any legitimate guild would be lucky to have you. You don’t need me anymore.”

“Maybe I never did,” she posited simply.

“Maybe so,” he returned evenly.

Her hand curled around his shoulder, light enough that he could pull away and yet present enough for comfort. “You’re my family. What’s left of it, anyway.”

“Family?” He repeated, testing it on his own tongue. It was honey-tart. Sweet dressing to an open wound.

“Like an Uncle,” she clarified with a half-shrug. She smirked, nearly teasing, “A young one, of course. But you’re all I have left in terms of kin.”

So simple. So light. So free. Her voice was airy and unburdened despite how much she'd lost. In that way, he envied her. She made peace with her transgressions, made proper sense of them, and moved to become someone radiant and inspiring. Whatever was left of her hurt was buried; deeply personal and harshly constrained. Perhaps he wanted that for himself — to become a beacon for those harboring remorse or regret and to lead them to peace.

The horizon blurred into something grey and sallow. His own voice sounded foreign when he droned, “And that means you’ll stay?”

Meredy’s light-hearted demeanor dropped. She sighed, combed a hand through her bangs, and took a seat in the grass beside him. Rather than answer his, admittedly, redundant question, she issued one of her own. “Aren’t you happy for the Seis? They’ve finally been awarded their due freedom. They can do what they truly want now.”

“Of course I’m happy for them. Beyond happy. I’m elated,” he answered in truth. "I only wish it could've happened sooner."

“But there’s something else, too,” she gathered. “There’s always something else with you.”

“You’re right." His gaze dropped to his worrisome hands, diligently rubbing themselves raw. In comparison to the blownout blur, they almost looked too real. "It has nothing to do with the Seis though, I'm afraid."

“So, what is it?" She prodded, insistent. "What plagues you?”

“I’m not sure how to describe it," he admitted. "Guilt, perhaps."

“May I?” It was more of a suggestion than a question. Her finger flared a soft pink as she pointed between his wrist and her own. “Maybe I can give it a name. That ought to help. At least a little.” At his blatant hesitation, she coaxed, “Come on. You said it yourself. I’m grown. There’s nothing you could be feeling that I haven’t felt myself.”

“Alright,” he conceded, though he remained less than thrilled.

She closed her eyes, released a stalled breath, and their wrists came alight with shared rosy charms. Her impatience was a fading whisper, quickly replaced by a mix of curiosity and concentration, and then his own hesitation echoed back to him twofold.

“You don’t have to say anything," she coached, nothing but patience in her instruction, "Just... think.”

Just think. Right, then. He could do that, couldn't he? It was one of the things he did ceaselessly, second only to breathing.

Meredy's concern was latent, flowing into him unbidden. More dominant than that was concentration—no, determination. Her focus on sorting him out indirectly fueled his own internal redirection, gently nudging him back into his own head from whence he came.

It felt entirely too open, though he probably should have expected as much. He made her worry, and vulnerability was the unfortunate consequence. He shouldn't have been so presumptuous, assuming she would leave simply because the Seis were ready to move onto bigger and better. He knew better than that. She wasn't so fickle as to spring such a lofty switch on him without first discussing it at length.

His insecurity was eating at him again. What he deserved was hardly his reality. He knew that to be true, though on occasion, he allowed that thing in his chest to paint the scene a ghastly pallor; a delusion of death owed.

But true justice wouldn't award him death. It would have him live all of their lives in succession. It would have him live their pain, their futility, their trust and betrayal and their earth-shattering moment of clarity, an endless loop of agony for naught, and then—then it would spit him out at their feet and have him beg for their mercy.

His life should be in their hands, and yet, because of the strength he coveted under the influence of the damned, because of the strength he cultivated in his selfish desire to preserve the ones he so loves, he still held a power he wasn't so sure he'd earned. A power that kept him almost untouchable.

His own magic was a cruel irony. A reminder of the standard he could never embody so long as he breathed and evermore. For all the Heavens he'd drawn from, he was himself the false-prophet, undeserving of the stars' forgiveness. Undeserving of peace. Of light. Of love.

And yet it followed him still.

“This isn't guilt. It's shame,” Meredy chimed in.

“That’s… warranted.”

“To an extent." Her hand rose to her chest, idly rubbing circles just beneath her collarbone. Her face twisted in despair, and he could feel his own sorrow amplified and echoed back to him through their link. Meredy's voice wavered when she argued, “This is exorbitant. It should be debilitating.”

"Break the link," he suggested. Tears brimmed her eyes as her nails sunk into her shoulder, yet he could feel her reluctance to let go; to leave him alone with it. "Please, Meredy."

Despite her obvious hesitation, she honored his request, rubbing her wrist where they were only just connected. There was pity in her eyes, so much of it that it was sickening. Her words came out wet, strangled, like she was still choking back the tears he wasn't willing to shed, "Is that really how you feel all the time?"

"No," he attempted to ease her concern, but it was utterly unconvincing. "There are moments of joy, and pride, and hope."

"What about peace? Calm? Silence?"

He opened his mouth only to close it again.

"Why haven't you..." she stopped herself and started over like she already knew the answer to her initial question, "Do you think it's doing you any good, holding onto this?"

"I don't know how to live without it," he confessed. "It's my burden to carry. I cannot forget. I cannot separate myself from what I've done."

Her face pinched, somewhere between anger and upset. For the first time in a long while, she seemed disappointed in him. "You're not carrying it. You're letting it consume you."

"I don't want that."

"What do you want?" She bawked, voice riding the line between irritation and incredulity. "From life, from yourself, from anything?"

"I want to help others," he answered immediately, no rumination required. "I want to find others like me, like us, and lead them to light."

"How can you do that if you can't find it yourself?"

[strawb3rry-milk000]

hello im abbie!

im an illustrator based in bouremouth you can find me on other socials at :

insta - @abbiestillerillustration

website - https://www.abbiestillerillustration.co.uk/

linkdin - abbie stiller

youtube - abbiestillerillustration

also if you think the colour in my posts looks weird or blownout pls check it anywhere else i promise its tumblr not me lol

[garmonbozean]

I find it pretty distasteful that wars aren't just streamed live and instead have to be filtered through symbolic images and footage of blownout cities in the aftermath of bombings or fighting and people talking to the camera. I thought these things were meant to be important

The correct format for news channels covering any war should be masterfully directed footage of close quarters combat and bombings. Maybe some commentary over it similar to a soccer game. The armies should perform in a manner that looks most impressive on camera

[hasel-anne]

Summer Sky Inspired by the expansive blue skies with a few sparse soft blownout streaky clouds. An one of a kind artdoll inspired by the clear summer skies. Handsculpted, molded and then cast into porcelain by me. The coloring in the skin is throughout, I used a special marbling technique with pigment mixed into the clay. The painting on face and body is done with high fired glazes and thus permanent. Neither her skin or the glazes will ever discolor or fade. She is strung with elastic and has 15 points of articulation. The feet are sculpted in a stretched pose and she is not meant to be stand up. However because of the extra hip joint it's easy to pose her in a multitude of sitting positions. She’s available for sale over at: https://ko-fi.com/s/1c79050ff7

[mapsofnonexistentplacesremade]

i love your art so much. despite all the variance and peculiarity in your compositions i'm still able to follow it perfectly. your colors and shapes feel so nostalgic, it kind of reminds me of old indian manuscripts with your compression of space while also having that 2000s blownout visual going on.. it's just like super unique and captivating in a way i'm struggling to put into words. it makes me want to have fun with my own art again. 🧘

THIS IS REALLY SWEET THANK YOU.... smiling so wide

[mausarchive]

So you think women are all angels who should never be punished? You think Casey Anthony is a helpless uwu victim?

i never said any of that, you have an extremely low IQ and low reading comprehension or you are so uncomfortable with what i said that you have to pull this out of your blownout ass to try to paint me in a negative way because you cannot face truth or take responsibility. bad faith, bad argument, 0/10

anyway, casey anthony didnt nag her husband, she murdered her child, that is in no way what anyone was talking about in the initial ask i was sent or in my reply. casey anthony is an evil human being, not a 'nagging wife that used to be so laidback'. get real

[dude-iloveu]

so i think i have written relatively detailed and balanced stories for my characters and then comes one OC with a full blownout autobiografi

[charactercreatorlimbo]

So I'm playing through Final Fantasy XII it's been wayyyy longer than a decade since I last played it. I don't plan on spoiling big things, but may talk about future parts of the game before they happen, but not really spoiling story developments, anything remotely spoilery happens after the read more:

The last time I played this the color was blown out because I didn't have the right converter and and for added fun, blownout speakers.

Yasumi Matsuno deserved better.

Rather than being known for the fashion choices of its cast (tho we'll get there trust me) this final fantasy places more emphasis on the lore and history of the world, which I remember to be pretty neat.

It's the Year 704 in the world of Ivalice a lot has happened in the past, there have been wars between the nations, invasions, stuff you'd expect from kingdom politics. Sending your invading army over to the nearest kingdom is just how you ask your neighbor if they have a cup of sugar they can spare.

Currently Ivalice is is experiencing a golden age brought on by the invention of airships and industrialization advances (brought about by the invention of airships). Today happens to be the royal wedding, see Lady Ashelia of Dalmasca, and Prince Rasler of Nabradia tying the knot.

This wedding is significant in this world because it unites the territory of Nabradia that lies above Rabanastre with that of Dalmasca of which Rabanastre is its capital.

But as is the case with games in this franchise even the most prosperous times can turn turbulent in s a flash, as we'll see in for the desert capital of Rabanastre.

The city of Nabudis in Nabradia which as served as a prime bulwark between this city and the invading Arcadian empire (they ARE called The Empire, the star wars comparisons are completely justified) has fallen, the opposing army will make it to the city by sunrise tomorrow.

Prince Rasler whom hails from Nabradia leads the charge to Nalbina fortress, the last line of defense before Rabanastre.

does every game have to have names and locations that sound so similar, like ya its to show that connections that can be seen in the language alone but I wish there would be more variation present to prevent confusion, I have this bad when trying to remember anything that happened in Elden Ring.

This transition of the airship from its departure from the capital to Nalbina

Playing Final Fantasy 14 means you become immediately attentive when there's a crystal tower supplying a magic barrier in any given piece of media

hey can I play as Rasler now?

shit.

Defending Nalbina completely failed, King Raminas B'nargin Dalmasca of Rabanastre, (also Ashelia's father) is being flown to Nalbina to sign terms of surrender for Dalmasca. Captain Basch of Dalmasca (above) brought Rasler's corpse back home, there was a funeral, everyones sorta feeling it rn

On the night of the signing Basch smells hijnx and is gathering up any able bodies that are still alive from the previous battle, in this case fresh faced Reks who we'll be playing as.

This section has so much detailed geometry for just this tutorial section where all u do is learn how to run and talk to ppl.

There's even some small breadcrumbing done for the player, this red dome stands out in this sea of blue and it's an identifiable architectural feature in the next screen once we pass the level transition.

Me looking for ppl irl with :) above their heads so I can talk to them.

Also having the infantry wearing gym shorts is very funny, also this outfit gets copied and used in Final Fantasy 14, it won't be the last thing that gets repurposed

Seriously there's no reason why this entrance is so elaborate it's not like we're not coming back here.

This shot of the tonberry in front of the moon still striking in 2023 even though it won't even take a minute to scrap.

boom

Somehow it's not destroyed after that, Some of the empire's airships, especially from a distance seem like they should have more capabilities in devastation but this tonberry model uses radio communication with a WW2 era audio compression that for me helps ground the technology in this world.

Dawn is breaking.

Now we're in this gorgeous hallway, but its cut off from the symbolic victory of bringing dawn back from the night. We're completely encased in.

All of the environments have been largely transitory so guessing this room exists to demonstrate the level of clutter players could expect in these spaces. Spoiler- it's a lot for something that originally released on ps2

King Raminas is beyond this door

oh.

oh that might be a problemmm

oh Reks being betrayed and murdered is so you

Ok so this guy above is Vayne. Compared to other final fantasy villain designs he's pretty muted. I like to think that if his design was more memorable and maybe had a unique pattern of speech the game wouldn't need this pickup shot of his face which dispels a bit of the intrigue.

kinda keeps u guessing with these twinks the first has iconic armor that looks important sure, players first thinking that he's the protagonist and then gets one-shotd

then theres muffin Reks we just played as, unbaptized in the fires of war, unprepared for the challenges that lay in front of him, that's pretty close to how these protagonists start out o wait plot got them too, honk now boarding the party Vaan

After it's revealed by Arcadian empire that Dalmasca's king has been assassinated by the captain of its guard. Basch is executed for treason, Princess Ashelia takes her own life, and the empire proceeds to occupy Rabanastre the game doesn't want you to be too down because now its time to bag some rats in a sewer

This is Vaan they've been living in occupied Rabanastre, they had strange textures on their abs that got removed in the remaster

Going from Reks fighting in Nalbina with a short sword to Vaan's here with dagger maybe creates an unconscious connection before the game outright tells you that the gutterpunk is Rek's younger brother.

this was kind of a lot, now's a good place to stop. next update will be checking out Rabanastre proper

[onwriting-hrarby]

hi hera, im rewriting this ask because my internet was slow and i dont know if it was sent thru 😭😭

im so in my feels i’ve been rereading a bit of IDNLUT, and its really so heartbreaking that mikasas dad had the shitty conscious to completely leave his family for another. it aches my heart to read whenever in mikasas pov the pain and insecurities she carried everytime she mentions or is reminded that her dad abandoned their little family for a white woman and their white child.

i feel really bad for mama sakura, the strength in the women under these situations is just insane. her husband didnt just leave her, he abandoned a whole ass child, his own daughter!!

in the fic mikasa is gradually reconciling with her father, and good for her and her peace but i dont know how she does it!! its so hard to wrap my head around characters like john, like hes playing God and just like nothing switching which woman and which child gets to be in the presence of his loving tender father/husband role. like its horrible, personally its unforgivable to me because the children in mikasa role are just left with so much trauma and thats so so unfair because why did their dad choose to hurt them and not the other.

(its so heartbreaking, i really want to hold IDNLUT baby mika)

i was wondering but only if you’re up for it 👉👈 would you be interested in writing a drabble or perhaps explaining a little more in detail:

1. john ackermans pov in the rawest honest form on why he had left his family for another. his desires, his selfishness and his regrets. (im trying to sympathise with him but its so hard 😅)

2. and if, whether he denies it or not, racism or racial preference had a role in his actions. (im asian, so i get it, theres an unfortunate beauty standard engraved in our minds and white women have that privilege)

(also when i think about it, IDNLUT john ackermans and RJ grisha somewhat plays the same role right?)

3. as a white man, does john ackerman acccctuallly understand mikasas insecurities and pain. especially racially, can he see mikasas perspective, does he get that mikasa sees her dad having a racial preference by leaving her asian mom and her for a white woman and her white child. (im just wondering if john actually evaluates the consequences of his actions, and that hes just not feeling bad and thats it lol (maybe i also just want to see the man in pain for the pain he caused his (our) favourite girl 🥺)

4. in this au, would mikasa ever fully lash out at her dad, like a full blownout confrontation or a full conversation where she lays eeeeverything, her hurt her pain her childhood trauma he caused her and her mother, i wonder if she demands answers and if hes able to give her them. (hehe would you ever write this as a drabble? but i would respect it if you dont want to!!)

i loooove this fic, thank you for sharing it with us. and sorry my ask is so long!!

Alright, dear anon, finally I have some time to delve into this. So, what can I say? I saw this ask first on Monday and it completely made my day. Not only to receive such a nice comment, but also from a reread and also from i did not live until today! I always worry my stories are not enough to make people want to reread (which is what I do with things i like a lot) so this anon made my heart flutter.

i'm so glad you pointed out to this flaw in mikasa's character. i got a lot of people who read the fic who didn't like how mikasa treated her dad and how her insecurities affected her life in general, and didn't like mikasa's character very much. i understand this happens because she's not an agreeable character, and we sometimes hate that she's so self-centered, especially towards sakura, because she only wants what's best for her. but people who grief are normally self-centered, so i wanted to delve into that and not make the protagonist be like a heroin. i'm so glad you feel for her and share her pov, really, justifice for mikasa!

you're right that grisha in RJ and john might be alike, but i think the difference in john is that he really fell in love with his new wife, and left the family because of love, and not so much because of prejudice. as you say, prejudice is very much there, although i don't think john is really aware of it—like an unconscious pull—and it's much more of something that mikasa projects. because i always tell everything from mikasa's pov, i play a lot with an unreliable narrator (not that "evident" though).

i don't think parents choose to hurt us purposefully. of course, it would be better for mikasa's health if the parents had stayed together under good circumstances, but when the circumstances are bad, or the love doesn't sweep through, believe me, it's better to divorce (both my boyfriend and me come from divorce parents, and our experience is very different, so i know both outcomes). in the end, growing up makes us realize that parents are their own people—they do not live to serve our wishes. they live to protect us, to make us grow, but we cannot submit them, i believe. when we are parents, we don't transform int just parents. we do not become different from what we were, we don't lose our personality or wishes. some wishes are not compatible with being parents, of course—but love is. and if someone doesn't find love in the parent they have around, we're people, and it's better to be a family if there is love and respect. at least that's what i thought and what i wanted to express!

okay, so onto your questions! i am going to drabble point 1, so let me go straight to the others (i don't know WHEN i'm going to write it, so please, bear with me, i'll upload it!)

2) whether he denies it or not, racism or racial preference had a role in his actions > as i said, i didn't plan john to be aware of it like grisha is. grisha does have inherent racism in it, and some of the decisions are very evident steeping from there. but john is not aware, even, that race might exist. i don't know if that makes sense. grisha would see sakura and see the race, while john doesn't really see it, but he still has a preference for the other because the other is "better". does it make sense? in that sense, john would be equivalent to Eren in RJ when he was a teenager (but without the violence that accompanies Eren). It's as if John had to pick between salad or soup, and he's been always told that salad is better. he doesn't really care about the difference between salad and soup, but he feels slightly pulled towards salad because of the discourse about salad and how good salad is. he also likes soup, but he can't say why he would prefer salad. i think a lot of racism nowadays is like this: people know racism is wrong, and they wouldn't care to be with someone from another race but they are still attracted to white people every time.

3) as a white man, does john ackerman actually understand mikasas insecurities and pain > he doesn't, no! also because a lot of issues from mikasa don't directly come from race, and the ones that do i feel like he might not really understand them because again he doesn't recognize his preference. but he knows that a lot of the issues that mikasa has are because of him leaving, and i remember that at some point they even talk it out! so he does feel guilty towards it.

4. in this au, would mikasa ever fully lash out at her dad, like a full blownout confrontation or a full conversation where she lays everything> oh, i will definitely drive it as a drabble! i will try to mix it with the 1st one. she definitely would. as i said, i think they touch the subject but i don't believe there's a full lash out! i picture mikasa after some years (before she goes to mitras with eren) talking it out with her dad, but calmly. i believe eren allows mikasa to open like a dam, so she knows how to express her feelings. mikasa's growth in IDNLUT i believe is about accepting the feelings and growing communication!

AGAIN i am so so so happy about your ask, and please do NOT hesitate to send me another one with your thoughts on this (if you have any) or if you were reading my work another way! i don't want to influence on your reading as an author, so do not fret if something wasn't as you were thinking: i love that everyone makes my work theirs!

[lesbx]

i didnt know you could reset ur stats in tf2 i dont think i’d ever actually clicked on the stats menu in the backpack screen, i just saw it on loading screens. thank god bc it was really annoying permanently having to look at at the way blownout numbers i racked up back when i would idle for items when i was like 14. most points being just engineer there with almost 5000 points from one time i left my game on overnight on an afk server

[valodia]

How can you tell when someone comes from a middle class background though? I feel like i am bad at seeing the signs but sometimes I do feel out of place at work and i am wonderin if its because I feel like they dont see me as one of them so how can i tell if they are middle class like what are some tell tale signs or characterstics these people have?

Keep in mind this is subjective and probably depends on the country etc. You can also change social class in a lifetime but here im mostly talking about someones background or the social class that they most assimilated into if they switched

In my experience middle class people tend to:

- Afford a comfortable lifestyle that they could potentially easily lose (by comfortable i mean have a house on mortgage, a car or several, leisure items etc)

- Tend to have a decadent or carefree financial life, live above their means, accrue debt, but somehow always land on their feet

- Expect to have a quality of life beyond basic needs (rent, bills, food)

- Typically can rely on family or a support network for financial or personal aid

- Generally familial type of abuse tends to be more subtle and hidden instead of blownout and spectacular but it depends

- Sometimes unaware that really bad things (abuse, trauma) can happen to people they know or around them

- Can afford or thinks its normal to afford going on vacation every year, has been to disneyland at least once etc

- Holidays spent with family are usually something to look forward to

Theres not one single person that squarely fits into this narrative. Its just sometimes i meet ppl and i can tell theyre not from the same bg.

As for my family when i was very young we were working class going on middle class and it just deteriorated exponentially with years.

I think if i have to pick just the most jarring difference to me in this list it would the expectation of a certain lifestyle.

When i started living on my own i had no real support network. I lived in a very tiny place (social housing) that about 70 to 80% of my salary covered. Ive been used to never buying anything expensive/nice and only buy cheap foods etc. I was living spending my money on virtually nothing other than basic needs and i still had money to spare that i mostly saved to have some stability and also cause i wasnt used to having it? Now im stable and this has evolved and i would qualify technically as middle class if my spouse was also employed or if i was single. But i still carry this idea that i can lose all of it and my threshold of expectation is lower than many ppl.

Thats just my personal biased opinion so idk if that helps, every persons situation is obviously different. Its incredibly hard to put it in words also and i dont know if i did a good job

[rav3nmuse]

It’s cuffing season. The way I know this is all my roommates are out here getting their backs blownout or dick sucked in our little apartment.

[screamingforyears]

IN A MINUTE: // A POST_PUNK_ISH EXPRESS… // “CRAWL SPACE” is the lead single from @filthiseternal’s forthcoming LP titled ‘Find Out’ (9/29 @mnrk_heavy) & it finds the Seattle-based quartet lyrically waxing upon predetermined outcomes across 1 ½ mins of melodically blistered, snappily barked & sonically shredded PunkRawk. “EARLY LIGHT” is the lead track on @grdns_east’s freshly released EP titled ‘Part of Something’ & it finds the Vermont-based artist Tom Weir (@old_moon__) looking to pitch his festival tent w/in your Hot_97_Summer_Playlist across 4 mins of Balearically_blissed Electro. @thehazmatsuk are here w/ “SKEWED VIEW,” the A-side/title-track from their forthcoming 7” (7/14 @staticshockrecords) & it finds the London-based outfit (featuring members of Powerplant, Big Cheese & Chain Of Flowers) bringing that c86 jangle across 3 ½ of power_popped Indie. @mirror_of_venus_ are here w/ a new standalone single titled “NEVER SAY FOREVER” & it find the LA-based quartet of Margo Rhodes (guitar/vox), Joy DaMert (keys/vox), Heidi Weber (drums) & Jose Espinoza (bass/vox) bringing damn near 6 mins of dream_poppin, death_rawkin & post_punkin NuWave. “UNLOVE” is a new standalone single from @scaryblack_ & it finds the Louisville-based multi-instrumentalist Albie Mason majestically swooning & beautifully crooning across 6+ mins of achingly tender, Gothically hued & Psychedelic Furs-esque NightmarePop. @timothyeerie are here w/ a new standalone single titled “YOUR OWN TRIP” (greenwitchrecordings) & it finds the Florida-based project living that “The most dangerous band in America 💋” lyfe across 4 ½ mins of moodily grooved & brashly blownout PsychRawk.

//

TRACKS STREAMING BELOW...

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[hanginglabels]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Topshop Black Jamie Petite Distressed Denim Jeans.