#they're beautiful and sacred

[andy-clutterbuck]

requested by Anonymous

[satoriberry]

categorizing the babygirls

yes im a yukimiya whore, but can you blame me? he's pretty, he's charming, he has glasses, he's mentally dissolving by the second, nothing more attractive about a man. also i dont take criticism on sae's rank!!

[vixlenxe]

Did this again, with as many of my muses as I could fit on here, but added an extra catagory because some of these bitches have this in common.

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

So this is a weird ask but I figured an Actual Welsh Person would be the person to go to, and you've been pretty gung-ho about the language thing. So I hope I'm not bothering you with this.

Is there a cultural consensus on foreigners learning Welsh? I'm American and I don't have a single shred of Welsh ancestry. My family is historically German, and we've been here since the English Colony days, so it honestly seems really weird even to try to claim some tie to German heritage.

Anyway, my point is, I have absolutely zero legitimate claim to the Welsh language. I don't plan to travel to Wales in the foreseeable future. I have no reason to learn Welsh except that it sounds pretty and I enjoy a challenge.

Putting aside the issue of "lmao it's gonna be stupid difficult to learn an endangered language if you don't have anyone to speak it with" (I have a loose plan for dealing with that, and the experience of learning two languages to "can read most novels without needing the dictionary" level without anyone to speak them with in person already) entirely, do you reckon it's okay for me to study Welsh? I know Americans are really, really bad about just kinda assuming the whole world belongs to us, and I'm trying not to do that here. Especially because Welsh IS endangered.

I imagine your average Welsh person probably doesn't care what some random American does. But like, for people who care about the language...Would it be considered disrespectful or overstepping for me to study it? I don't expect you to speak for the entire country, of course, but I respect your opinion and I feel like you'd have a grasp on what the general feeling towards a foreigner like me might be.

Thanks for your time.

I honestly, truly, do not understand how the discussion around cultural appropriation has been twisted in the cultural zeitgeist to such an extent that people now feel anxiety about learning other languages.

This is not a personal attack on you, Anon - the gods only know that you clearly care and want to do the right thing, and that's beautiful and wonderful and also I will come back to extolling your personal virtues at the end of this post, so stay tuned. But I do want to take a moment here to talk about the broader issue at play, which I have seen echoed multiple times elsewhere, because fuck me what are we doing to ourselves.

Learn. Languages.

That is what languages are for! To be used for communication. If you don't learn languages, you are forcing everyone else to use yours. How have we somehow, as a culture, twisted that into being the less selfish option? How have we done that? I posted my favourite Welsh idiom recently, and someone reblogged it and wrote in the tags that they loved the idiom and would start using it, but they would do so in English because their "Welsh pronunciation would make their Welsh grandmother spin in her grave."

What kind of mental gymnastics is that?

How the fuck do you twist it so badly that you think taking a Welsh idiom for your own and exclusively using it in English is less offensive than saying it in Welsh but maybe a bit wrong? I've literally had people proclaim to me that they're learning Welsh on Duolingo but they never speak it because they're too self-conscious, and they tell me this not to highlight a massive flaw in themselves that they need to work on, but as though I'm supposed to pat them on the head and thank them for... still making me speak English to them.

There was that post where a Deaf blogger received an anonymous ask saying learning sign language is cultural appropriation, as though Deaf people haven't been calling for Sign to be taught in schools. As though a Deaf person being entirely isolated in everyday hearing society unless they have an interpreter with them is less offensive than a hearing person being able to use BSL.

Like, these are not sacred or religious languages. The purpose of Welsh or BSL or what have you is not to perform the Eleusinian mysteries. It's a living everyday language, same as English -

Except it's not the same as English. As Anon here so rightly points out, Welsh is endangered. That means we are desperate for people to learn it. That's how it will survive. That's how we reversed it from 'dying language' to 'living language', in fact - we managed to get lots of people to learn it. You know what is a threat, though? People not learning it because, like poor Anon here, they've been somehow convinced by Western society that you're only allowed to learn languages if you personally have a historic or cultural connection to them that you can prove via six forms of ID and a letter of recommendation from a druid. Or people never using it because they're too embarrassed to try and risk losing face by getting it wrong, or maybe sounding a bit silly, and thus forcing us to use English anyway. Those are threats.

Anon. Listen to me, feel the sincerity of my words: we adore you. We adore you. You cannot imagine how appreciated it is when someone learns Welsh. You cannot imagine how touched we are that you wanted to, that you tried, that you respected us enough and considered us valid enough that you made the effort. Our closest neighbours are the very people who are still trying to stamp out Welsh to this very day. Do you know the number 1 reaction I get, by a country mile, when I tell English people that I speak Welsh? It's some variant on a scoff, and the sentiment "Why? What's the point? Bit useless, isn't it?"

By a country mile. That's the reaction I expect, and brace for, and is overwhelmingly what I get.

So when someone who isn't Welsh actually chooses to learn Welsh?

Imagine what that feels like! To go from not-even-hidden disgust, from outright mockery and often active suppression campaigns, to a foreigner earnestly telling me that they love and respect my language so much they're trying to learn it. Imagine how that feels.

Please learn Welsh. Please learn it. We will love you for it. We will build you a statue. We will bake little Welshcakes with your face on in icing sugar. We will write you poems in complex rhyme. We'll name an Eisteddfod prize after you. We'll name at least, like, three sheep after you. Thank you, thank you so much for even wanting to learn. You're a delight and a marvel and a wonder. Your hair looks great today, as it does all days. You're a strong, independent human being of immense wisdom and compassion. If this were a Welsh myth you'd be a wise salmon the heroes came to for advice. What a fantastic human.

The welcome awaits if you choose to learn

[ghostlyferrettarot]

🖇Astro Observations #1🖇

❗️All the observations in this post are based on personal experience and research, it's completely fine if it doesn't resonate with everyone❗️

✨️Paid Services ✨️ (Natal charts and tarot readings)Open.

🖇If you like my work you can support me through Ko-fi. Thank you!🖇

🖇Masterlist🖇

•Sun in 6th house tends to have obsessive tendencies with their daily routine, their scheduale is sacred for them, it gives them a sense of security.

•Aries moons have a "love/hate" relationship with their mothers, they can easily be in eachothers throat.

•Taurus-Aries duos are really underrated , I have seen these two being partners in a crime, a really beautiful friendship.

•Scorpio and Leo risings are very misjudged, people project a lot in them.

•I realized that Mercury in Sagittarius/Libra or Mercury in the 9th house LOVES gossip, even the silly ones.

•Venus in Virgo people take their time to like someone, but when they do they will romanticize the person a lot.

•Earth placements have beautiful hands and nails, really princess vibes.

•Mars 3rd house has quick and clever comebacks in discussions, words are their weapon.

•Gemini Mars or Mars in the 3rd house tend to use other people's secrets during fights/arguments.

•Leos Midheaven wants to try 1000 different career paths, they're like Barbie. This individuals tend to be good in many things.

[toorurs]

to love is to learn

synopsis: aventurine is still unexposed to the many concepts of this world. but that doesn't mean he won't try to get to know them if it's for you.

pairing: aventurine x reader | wordcount: 1.0k | content & warnings: hurt/comfort, insecure aventurine, established relationship, my ass wrote this in an hour and its super late rn i just wanna upload this and my lazy ass did NOT proofread this + im on mobile so hell, kinda HELLA rushed ; ficlet

a/n: just the other day me and azul were talking about what body parts of aven would be sensitive and we got to his collarbone and azul said that he thinks that it'd be super evident so i pointed out that it might be cause he was used to starvation and barely ate even when he got to the ipc/had the chance to do so. SO I JUST HAD TO WRITE SMTH.

tags: @azullumi

aventurine shudders under your touch. your nimble fingers trace across his collarbone, featherlight movements, touch so delicate, it makes him tremble.

the pads of your digits lightly dance across his clavicle, one finger turns into two. your index swiftly slides over the pale skin that separates the bone that lies underneath. while your thumb starts inching closer the neckline of his satin pajama, diving beneath. at that he can't help but flinch.

“oh god.” he laughs out. “someone's being touchy today.” his voice is filled with joy. hearing, seeing, knowing that aventurine has fun around you, makes you crave for more. his laugh is an intoxicating drug. something that you'll always long for, absorbing it until every part of your body is stained with the tantalising essence and puts you to your demise.

you don't stop your actions, instead continuing to glide your fingers along his delicate body. “sorry, for i couldn't help it!” a giggle escapes your mouth.

“i just thought about how pretty it is.” you let out a small hum.

“my collarbone? pretty, how come?” he's confused, what is the beauty you see within his body?

his body is fragile. it's a hollow shell he carries around. ugly and not worthy of your attention even less your admiration, abused and marked in burns. when the digits that he carries around like a sacred body part of his, roughly engraved on his neck, come in contact with any kind of substance, liquid or his own fingers. he's reminded of the mishap his body was or rather is in. how it was abused and dragged through the mud.

putting his calloused fingers around the tattoo, stings. the touch lingers like a nostalgic scent which still remains on an old piece of clothing, one that has never been washed so the smell never fades away. it burns up at the slightest touch. hurting just as much as when it was freshly inflicted onto his young body.

kakavasha doesn't even know what he looks like. the only person he sees in the mirror is aventurine. sure he walked past puddles of dirty rain back in his childhood, reflecting his younger self, but the images are vague and blurry. he doesn't know what kakavasha looks like and he probably never will.

and neither do you. the only thing you have in front of you right now is aventurine. a shattered soul that doesn't know where it belongs. his being consists of a thousand fragments, they're scattered thoughts that are similar to broken mirror shards.

they reflect the tales of his heart and reveal its greatest desire. mirroring those untold stories like the surface of the water. thoughts and wishes that are full of pureness, almost childlike.

the broken pieces that make up the man who's named aventurine long for a haven which he can call a safe space - a home. but on the other hand he thinks that he's not permitted to find such a place, that he's not allowed to stay, undeserving of it.

“no particular reason. i just like the way it stands out, it's easy to find and trace.” the words that roll off your tongue sting. they probably hurt as much as a paper cut you've received as a little kid, but it's not like kakavasha knows or is able to relate - he didn't get to grow up like the other children. but he can't blame you, you're oblivious to his past.

his body has gone through physical and emotional abuse. beat ups, labor or starvation. the reason why his collarbone is so evident, the face you adore is so slim, and his rips slightly poke through his body, is all because kakavashas hunger has never been satisfied and the dryness in his throat has never been quenched.

even after he put on the mask of the man who calls himself aventurine - a wealthy man, who’s a member of the ten stone hearts that makes more money than he spends, he's still reluctant when it comes to eating. of course he could buy all the delicacies that kakavasha never got to try - never even knew, but he hesitates.

the concept of chewing and swallowing the bits is still something aventurine can't befriend himself with. it's unfamiliar - he's not used to it, the feeling of a full stomach, what it's like to be satisfied after a meal. it's something foreign to him, a feeling he's not sure he'll ever get accustomed to.

he doesn't think he deserves to eat. to know what it feels like to be full, the rumbling that comes from his stomach is the one he grew up with is what brought him here. he fears that if he gets too comfortable with something or someone he'll forget who he is.

a lost soul that mourns after the past, but saved itself from the dark abyss, freeing itself. not allowing himself to get too close, always keeping everyone that comes near him at an arm's length. worrying he might grow too attached.

so why is he still here? here with you, chattering happily and conversing freely, he doesn't deserve it - he doesn't deserve you.

but is it wrong to be selfish for once? he knows the answer already: it is. but he can't help it, not when you coax him into this position, one which he can't leave, no matter how hard he tries.

“i love you.” you trace the letters along his neck, over the tattoo that is engraved on his skin.

you don't need a verbal answer to know that he feels the same way. perhaps, he himself hasn't realized it yet but he's conveyed his love for you many times already. just like now as he continues to lie in bed with you.

the both of you are oblivious, but that doesn't mean that either of you will stop in your tracks, turn back and leave. (even though he sometimes wishes to do so)

both satisfaction and love are two unfamiliar concepts for aventurine. but he'll try to get to know them. for the sake of you.

© TOORURS 2024. stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms is not permitted.

[hannieehaee]

18+ / mdi

content: minghao x virgin!reader, established relationship, afab reader, smut soft sex, fingering, penetrative sex, they're in love <//3

wc: 1943

a/n: he looked so soft and pretty with his hair like this aaahhh T^T i didnt proofread this btw but are we surprised

masterlist

he couldn't take his eyes off of you.

you were so soft and pretty. the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, really. in his eyes, you had no flaw. and you were all his. he still couldnt get over that fact.

he felt ashamed to admit it, but he'd been waiting for this since the moment he first laid eyes on you. he always thought you were the most beautiful girl in every room you walked into. your supple skin, the shape of your eyes, the brightness in your smile, the curves along your body; he was addicted to every part of you. and now he finally had you all to himself.

it had only been a few weeks since he finally made you his. he was a gentleman, so he courted you for a while, making his intentions clear but never pressuring you into a relationship. he let you know about his feelings for you early on, but wanted to be just be your friend for a bit before officially making you his. you'd lived in the limbo between friends but not quite lovers for a while. he enjoyed the buildup of your feelings. it had only made you want him more; and in turn it made his feelings for you grow even more than he thought possible. and now he found himself overwhelmed with how much he wanted you.

you'd taken it slow. having wanted each other for all those weeks but never really tying the metaphorical knot, you came into your relationship already thirsty for each other. but, once again, minghao was a gentleman. he wanted to give you space and not give into his desires immediately. he knew you were inexperienced, which was something he ashamedly relished on. however, it was even the more reason to allow you to grow used to him as your boyfriend before moving onto that much more intimate aspect of your relationship. he waited and waited (patiently), and now he was here. with an almost completely nude you under him, just waiting for him to take action.

you'd agreed on doing it today. not explicitly, but you'd nudged at each other, suggesting it wordlessly. today would be the day minghao rid you of your innocence. you both knew you were both growing impatient, which is why it wasnt surprising to either of you when tonight became this.

"hao ..." you breathed out, eyes becoming heavy as minghao softly kissed at your neck from his position above you.

he was taking it slow. he wanted to savour every moment of finally making you his in every sense of the word. he'd been slow at kissing you, preparing you for what was to come. he'd been slow at undressing you, still leaving your underwear on for him to take off later. he'd been slow at caressing your body, leaving goosebumps in his wake. and even now, he took it slow as he ground his hips against yours and softly kissed at your neck.

"patience, my love. want to take my time with you," he leaned up from your neck to look into your eyes, but unable to keep his eyes on yours for long as your lips called for him, making him have to connect his lips to yours yet again.

you kissed once more. more desperate this time than before he'd carried you off to his room. minghao didn't want to lose composure, but your adorable mewls at the feeling of his tongue licking at yours and his hips sensually canting against yours was slowly breaking his resolve. he began to kiss you deeper, harder, as his hips began digging even further into yours. he knew that if he tried to dig between your bodies, he'd find a puddle in between them. the thought made him light headed.

he couldn't hold himself back anymore, reaching towards that sacred space in the middle of your legs and softly dragging his fingers up and down. he took pleasure on the gasp you let out against his lips at such a light touch, wanting nothing more than to draw even more needy sounds out of you.

"want my fingers, angel?", he questioned against your lips.

you nodded hazily at him, no words leaving you as you simply whined and fidgeted against him, clearly in want for more.

he finally slipped his fingers past the soaked panties you had worn for him, - you'd worn such a pretty set for him; pink and lacy. pure and innocent, just like you.

he slowly snuck his fingers past the resistance of your folds and began to drag them in and out at a torturously slow pace. he adored your pretty gasps in surprise at the intrusion, unable to take his eyes off of you once again. your expression of pure bliss had him on a high, feeling himself grow even harder at just the beautiful sight in front of him. there was nothing more perfect than this moment, the moment in which he'd finally bring the love of his life to completion.

he increased the movement of his fingers inside you, making sure to curl them just right in order to draw even higher-pitched mewls out of you. his thumb had also joined the equation, rubbing itself on that pretty pearl that demanded stimulation. upon beginning to play with your clit, you'd begun to grind your hips against his hand, making minghao lose his mind. his pretty girl was seeking his touch. knowing he was giving you such pleasure was making him feel lightheaded, an animalistic desire growing in him to finally get you under him and impale you as you cried his name. but no. he was a gentleman. he wanted your first time to be soft and loving. he could corrupt you some other day, but today was all about showing you his feelings for you.

"h-haao ... fuck! please ..." your cries brought him back to earth. he felt the sudden tightness of your walls against his fingers, knowing you were about to reach completion. he began to speed up, now following a rapid rhythm that had you writhing on the bed.

"cum for me. cum, beautiful. wanna see my beautiful girl cry for me," he knew the effect his words would have for you. he'd always adored how much you wanted him. he'd known his feelings had been mutual since day one, seeing the way your pretty eyes would look at him with such adoration. his effect on you was something that drove him crazy day after day, and he was afraid that he'd soon grow addicted to the way you'd react if he ever used it against you while in the throes of passion.

it didn't take you long after that to cum on his fingers, even allowing him to play with your sensitive clit for a bit afterwards before whining at him that you felt too sensitive still. he'd have to train you to take him time and time again, he made a mental note to himself. but that would come later. now he needed you.

he adjusted you on the bed, letting your pretty head lean against some pillows as he hovered over you. leaning down a bit, he pecked your lips before smiling softly at you.

"are you ready, beautiful?", he began toying with your bra a bit, hinting at wanting it off of you.

"yes, hao. i trust you."

that was all he needed to lean down once more, kissing you with all the passion that had build up inside of him. he kissed and kissed you, allowing his hands to travel up and down your body, feeling every delicious curve and crevice adorning your body. once he made contact with your bra, he unglued his lips from yours for a moment in order to remove it, immediately letting his eyes lower to your bare chest.

"you're the most beautiful thing i've ever seen, angel. do you even realize how perfect you are?", he whispered the words against you, almost as if they were a secret. in the meantime he allowed his fingertips to softly run through your supple mounds, drawing circles around your nipples as you whimpered at him to touch them. he chuckled at this, enjoying how easy it was to rile you up.

"here, baby? want my hands here?", he pinched at your nipples, dragging his thumbs over them as you whined at the feeling.

he lowered his head down to eye level with your tits, looking up at you as he let his tongue kitten lick at your nipple, barely giving it any stimulation. he did this for a while, alternating between breasts as you whimpered at him. he then unglued himself from you, softly blowing at your nipples, the cold feeling making you gasp and cry.

"you're so unreal, angel. love how pretty you cry for me. will you cry more? when i finally make you mine?", he'd began to make his way back to you, cock now laying on your stomach as he whispered in your ear.

"yes. please, hao ... want it so bad."

"i'll give it to you, beautiful. i'll give you anything," it didn't take long after this for him to finally begin to push himself inside you, groaning against you at the feeling of your walls closing in on him. your cries for him weren't helping, only making him lightheaded at the feeling of you.

you'd began to scratch his back once he started moving against you, keeping a slow and sensual pace that was rhythmic enough to have your eyes rolling back. looking at you, he had no idea how he resisted you for this long. he regretted not having taken you to bed since the moment he'd met you. but that thought only lasted a few seconds, until he heard you breathlessly gasp his name again after a particularly harsh thrust.

"do you know how hard it was to resist you? to hold you and not be able to have you? you tempted me day after day, making me lose my mind. you're pure torture. but now you're mine. aren't you, angel?", he rambled as he sped up, already seeing his end coming.

"h-hao! please! nee-need you to make me cum. fuck ..." he could see tears begin to form in your eyes. it drew an animalistic side out of him. a pit in his stomach forming at the thought of you sobbing and crying over his cock. this was enough to make him push your legs into your chest and speed up, wanting nothing more than to demand another orgasm out of you.

you came almost at the same time. you a few moments before him, with your rightness forcing an intense orgasm out of you as he groaned your name in your ear.

he was gentle and caring as he cleaned you up, even helping you up so you could use the restroom before promptly walking you back to bed, dreading even a minute of separation from you. he laid you down, cocooning you in his soft sheets before rounding the bed and laying down next to you. the way you immediately nuzzled into his arms had his heart pumping out of his chest. he was feeling endearment overload. everything you did had an effect on him.

"hao?"

"yes, my love?", he looked down at you, running his hands softly up and down your bare back, pressing you even closer to his chest.

"i love you," it wasnt the first time you'd said it, but it had felt different now. like you were giving your body and soul to him.

"i love you more."

[pingnova]

I met a quiet old man while browsing the plant books and accessories at the trading post this spring who asked what I was looking for. Most white people came to look at the jewelry and the expensive woolen blankets, so I guess it was a little unusual how closely I was examining all of the books on plants.

I held up a deck of native plant playing cards and said I was a forager, looking for more guides on local plants. He nodded thoughtfully and said there was a lot of medicine in wild plants. I smiled awkwardly, not sure why he was talking to me. But I reciprocated: "What are you looking for?"

He said he wasn't sure. He pointed to a few books on flowers, not necessarily edible vegetables. "They're beautiful," he said unsurely.

I nodded to encourage him. "Plants aren't just for eating, they're for appreciating too. We need beauty and nutrition."

Now he smiled, mostly hidden by his mustache, and told me he had a community garden plot he had tended for the past thirty years. Wow, what dedication.

Abruptly he says he has one year to live. He's at the trading post to find parting gifts for his son and grandchildren. He says this all very calmly, he's clearly been preparing for some time. And I stare at him because he seems so well and I've just met him. The idea of him dead is disturbing and shameful.

"Oh," is all I can say.

"I think this year I'll fill it with flowers."

He says it so warmly. I remember he was talking about his beloved community garden patch. I'm filled with heaviness and disbelief that he is soon dying and here wasting time talking to some random about growing flowers. But I manage to stammer something.

"It can't all be vegetables. Soft and beautiful things are important too. Especially in hard times."

Now he fully turns to smile at me. Again in my shock I think he's too content. Shouldn't he be raging? Crying, screaming, anything? But his mustache is white, he mentioned an adult son and grandkids, he seems well enough now and reasonably confident in his plan for a full season of flower gardening. Rapid-fire I conclude he's already done all of this and doesn't need it from me. Right now he's just discussing how important and sacred plants are with a likeminded young stranger.

He finally says, "Flowers are a soft landing after a long battle."

I choke out some kind of agreement so I don't accidentally cry. I wish him some kind of luck and awkwardly crabwalk away. I'm not really the king of social interaction even when its not emotionally loaded.

I bought my cards and books on vegetables and looked at the lone few on flowers he had been perusing. I'm in my twenties and don't plan on dying anytime soon, but how much time do I spend being as fast, efficient, and artless as possible in order to "survive" when that survival is never even in question. I have anxiety, I have ptsd, I'm an activist. All necessary and inescapable works of life. But this man had a season to live, death certain, and wanted to spend it growing flowers.

I went back to the register with a small book on flowers. When I'm hunting a forest to learn the native vegetables, I no longer ignore the blooms. If the battle is long, I want to grow flowers too.

[evilminji]

Actually? WOULD Earth be the ones to petition Oa?

They are interstellar Space Interpol. You don't usually call them on different parts of your OWN settlements or systems. You call them in when someone is breaking THE Laws. Not necessarily YOUR laws, though obviously by breaking THE laws they clearly ARE. But THE Big Laws(tm).

Like Geneva Convention for Space type laws.

You have discovered Planet or King X is committing WAR CRIMES. Call Oa. Tax fraud? That's an inter-personal planet side issue they can't help you with. Pointing Nukes at your nursery settlement and threatening to blow up the infants there unless you give them sex-slaves?

Knock-knock! Taste HARD Light Constructs!

But if so? Then how would the situation get so out of hand on Earth? With the G.I.W.? Simple. Tell me, Mr. President, what do you know of the current day to day life of villagers in rural Siberia?

That they exist? Could you even NAME their village, if I referenced specific individuals? Likely not. And no one would realistically expect you too.

There are countless planets out there! With Leaders busy with local industrial conferences and infrastructure bills. Farming regulations. Talks with that planet a few stars over. Very busy. What do THEY know of Earth? Why would they NEED too?

But! As we know, Ectoplasm is EVERYWHERE. Not just earth. And? Thin spots are not just an Earth-centric phenomenon. Other planets most CERTAINLY would have them too. And depending on the species? The culture? To quote the wise sage Bill Wurtz "you can make a religion out of this!"

After all, chosen few, returned from death... glowing and more powerful then before? Immortal? It's a pretty reasonable conclusion to come too. They are clearly Gods Touched. Some sacred task they must complete.

It would likely even shape the ghosts of the region themselves. After all, they TOO, would believe they were chosen for some Important Religious Task. Be it study or collecting rocks. To what end? Unknown. Who are they to question The Gods?

But! Oh happy day! The old tyrant is no more! A chosen Hero! They go to greet him! Honor him, as you do. Traditional gifts and ballads. Maybe some sacred rocks. A fancy hat. But? Oh? The Champion is wounded! Gasp! Still? But the fight with Pariah happened-

And then they are given Grave Warning(tm). Don't go to Earth. Heretics attacking people. KILLING souls! Trying to KILL the king of all the Infinite! He is somber because his living parents were hurt. Preventing the END OF ALL THINGS!!!??

WHAT!?

These "People In White" tried to EXPLODE the very FABRIC of all realities!? Several of them faint. Truely, these Fentons MUST be chosen by the Gods! Heros. Legends. Such bravery in the face of such HORRORS. Please, let them be brought to their Living counterparts! The hospitals are quite good!

And you know what? Fuck it. Danny will take that. Because his Mom n Dad got hurt. BAD.

They learned he was Phantom at probably the SINGLE worst time imaginable and still chose HIM. Chose THEM. The GIW were coming for him. Gonna hurt Jazz. And his parents told them, with fire and blood, it'd be a cold day in hell before they let them so much as TRY it.

They BLEW UP their own life's work. Went literally scorched earth. And now? They're not doing so good.

Because the Zone isn't made for the living. No food, no water, and no real human-safe medical supplies. They've run out. Danny will take what he can get. He'd even go to Vlad but... his Portal's gone too. And the Buzzards said he looked... spirally. Very... "suicide runs until everything BURNS".

So, yeah. No one's doing so great.

Alien planet it is.

They are greeted with fanfare and respect. The best medical teams on the PLANET. The King and his family is there, to welcome him. It's... it's beautiful. Hardly some perfect utopia, but the air is lite. Art everywhere. The stars vivid and so easy to see, at night.

The King kinda reminds him of Mr. Lancer to be honest. Balding and a bit round around the middle, stern but endlessly fair about it, wants people to do their best and succeed in life. Maybe that's why Danny finds himself opening up. Because... because here is a real, honest to God, KING king.

Somebody who was actually TRAINED to do all this King stuff.

Unlike Danny.

And Danny? He's scared. People expect him to Lead now. To know what he's doing. To somehow just... suddenly KNOW how to do all these things he's never even heard about. He only barely just died. Has BARELY been keeping everybody safe.

BARELY stopped Pariah.

He doesn't know what to do. But he pours his guts out. All the things that have bottled up. And King Not-Lancer listens. Somber and thoughtful. There is little, if anything he can TRUELY do to help. But... there ARE things he can do. Lessons on statescraft, while he's here, for one.

As for the other? Well, as King, he does have the local Lantern's Call Sign. Not to be used lightly, mind you. But what Danny describes? And from what the Sacred Ones have reported? THAT must be reported to Oa. He can show Danny how to do that.

(He does)

[The Lanterns of Earth get a VERY exciting call from Oa. Are every different shade of pissed. But? Whoops! Looks like they ACCIDENTALLY put the Watchtower into a complete Quarantine! Well, dang. Guess we're all stuck here for two weeks!

Reset it? *sound of smashing computer terminal* Yeah, don't think that's gonna work! :)

WHO WANTS TO PLAY 20 QUESTIONS?? We'll start! :) Who here has heard of an organization called, and I quote, The Ghost Investigation Ward? :) ]

@hdgnj @ailithnight @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter

[andy-clutterbuck]

Years - The Ones Who Live - 1x01

[woso-dreamzzz]

Cookies

Laura Coombs x Reader

Summary: You bake a bit too much

It was a difficult line to walk.

Laura knew this.

She was an athlete. She needed to be on the top of her game. She fuelled her body with as much healthy food as she could source.

Which, sadly, meant that she almost always upset you.

"It's good," You teased as you took another batch of cookies out of the oven, waving them teasingly under her nose.

"I know they're good," She said stubbornly," It's your whole job. But I just can't eat them. The whole team is dieting. I can't be the one to break." That last bit was a little lie on her part but it was better than letting you down.

You scoffed. "One cookie won't kill you."

"Yeah but it's never just one, beautiful."

She was right, of course. You never did just give her one. You gave over the first cookie and then another and then another and then another until she had nearly eaten the whole batch and didn't go to the gym like she had planned.

You grinned at her, shrugging. "It's not my fault you like my cookies so much."

Laura rolled her eyes. "But it is your fault that you make them at home. Why can't you just make them at work?" She groaned and rested her head atop the marble countertop.

"Don't sulk." You swatted at her with your tea towel. "Eat some or stop whining. This is my kitchen. I bake what I want."

That statement had been the basis of your relationship for a long time.

The kitchen was your kitchen and Laura knew to stay well away when you were baking. Cooking dinner, she could interrupt you. She could hold you from behind and kiss your neck at any point she wanted when dinner was being made. But the kitchen was sacred when you baked to the point that you didn't even like sad people in it when you were mixing dough (claiming that their negative energy would affect how good your creations tasted).

Slowly, Laura reached out to snag a cookie from the cooling rack, biting into it morosely under your watchful eye.

"Good?"

"They're always good. Amazing, even," Laura replied, unable to keep a smile off her face.

"You should have another one."

She took it but narrowed her eyes. "I know what you're doing. This is the last one."

"Mhm," You nodded. You pressed a kiss to her lips. "Whatever you say."

You sauntered off to the fridge.

Laura ran her tongue over her lips.

You tasted like sugar.

●～●～●～●～

"Don't tell me you don't snack on her goodies whenever you can," Alex complained," Does she smell like cinnamon? She looks like she'd smell like cinnamon."

"Please don't talk about what my wife smells like," Laura said," It's a little weird."

Alex threw her arms up. "I'm just saying! She works in a bakery all day! It's the holiday season. Surely, she's working with cinnamon all the time?"

"Again, discussing what my wife smells like is weird," Laura said again," And if you must know, my whole house smells like cinnamon. She's baking like crazy. I don't understand it. All I want to do when I come home is curl up on the sofa and watch tv and she spends all day in a bakery and comes home to bake more. I just don't get it."

"Wow," Alex said sarcastically," Such first-world problems for you. A fit wife coming home to bake for you every day? Oh, no! How will you survive?"

"Shut up." Laura rolled her eyes. "My entire kitchen is covered in baked goods. Everywhere I look. Cookies. Cakes. I'm pretty sure last night she was making another pie. I'm trying to stay healthy."

Alex patted her condescendingly on the shoulder. "Then you shouldn't have married a baker."

Laura rolled her eyes again, spying movement to the left. It was kind of suspicious and Alex was grinning like a wolf. She turned and felt the need to smack that stupid, smug smirk off her friend's face.

"Mrs Coombs!" Jill cheered.

You greeted her warmly. You looked beautiful, wrapped up tight in Laura's coat with a hat tucked firmly on your head and a scarf curled around your neck.

You held two bags full of little brown boxes.

"Stop calling me Mrs Coombs," You scolded lightly though still with a smile on your face," It makes me feel old. I'm not old."

"You're more put together than most of us," Alex said as she crossed the room to hug you," Did you bring us treats?"

"Who do you think I am?" You scoffed, moving past her to join Laura, stealing a soft kiss.

You still tasted like sugar.

"My personal baker," Alex said with a grin.

"I'm no one's personal baker," You insisted though you pointedly kept your eyes on your wife," But you're lucky that the other Mrs Coombs likes to have counter space to sit on while I cook."

You placed your two bags onto one of the tables and began unboxing your treats.

"One at a time!" Laura barked when the girls surged forward. "Make an orderly queue please and thank my wife! She didn't have to trek all the way here in the cold."

"Thank you, baby," You said as the group finally calmed down, each girl taking a turn and pressing a kiss to your cheek in thanks.

"No problem, beautiful." Laura rose from her seat, a hand reaching out to curl around your waist.

You rested you head against her shoulder, smiling.

"What's got you so happy?"

"Nothing." But you were still grinning.

"No. Seriously, what is it?"

"It's just..." You giggled. "I thought you told me that the whole team was dieting and that's why you couldn't eat my cookies."

Laura's cheeks went a little bit red. "So...Maybe I twisted the truth a bit."

"You're cute when you're embarrassed," You said," But you know what this means?"

"And what does this mean, beautiful?"

You grinned and kissed your wife's cheek. "That you don't have an excuse to not be my taste-tester anymore."

[fandomxpreferences]

Heart Of Gold, Hands Of A Healer

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x female!reader

TW:none, just tooth rotting fluff

Summary: Bradley never knew how much he needed love and affection until you gave it to him.

Word Count:2.8k

A/N: Okay lets hope it doesn't cut off this time bc I'm at my wits end

Bradley Bradshaw doesn't consider himself a soft, lovable man. He keeps barbed wire around his heart, isn't very affectionate, and drops his life at the drop of a hat when the Navy comes knocking. 

He's large and broad, his body is littered with scars, and his hands are calloused from years of working on his car and flying F18s. When he does have a girlfriend, they never stick around for long. They soon realize he's not a project that can be fixed and lose interest. 

They always want to settle down and get married, and they can't handle his closed-off emotions and unwillingness to have anything permanent. So they cut and run, and Bradley lets them. He figures they want him to chase them, fall to his knees in the rain, and beg them to stay. He never does. 

He concluded he's got too much baggage, not that anyone ever stuck around long enough to help him unpack it. Women don't like his battered, imperfect body. Sure, he's got abs that rival a greek god, but it's flawed with imperfections that they never cared to get the story behind. 

Until he met you. 

You blew into his life like a warm summer breeze, and he realized he hadn't been breathing his entire life. You disarmed him in an instant without him even noticing. The cage around his heart fell apart, and he let you in without a second thought. 

You make him feel safe and adored, and the weight of his past melts away when you're with him. The second his eyes land on you, the tension dissolves from his body. His shoulders drop a bit, his joints stop aching, and his jaw unclenches. 

His dentist has been on him for years about incessant teeth grinding at night, and it turns out the solution is sleeping next to you. He never knew how much he craved affection, but the second your soft hands grazed his flesh, he was hit with the realization that he needs your touch more than air. 

He's like a giant next to you, his frame looming over your body when he hugs you. He's frequently found holding your hand up to his, marveling at how your fingers only extend an inch or two beyond his palm. Those hands he loves so much, capable of bringing them to his knees despite the fact he makes fun of you and says they're no bigger than a child's.

You find beauty in all of his scars and scrapes, taking time to get the story behind even the most insignificant mark that even he forgot exists. You make him feel important, always listening intently as if he's telling you the most exciting thing you've ever heard. 

You always take your time worshiping him, your fingertips tracing the plains and valleys of his tender skin with feather-like pressure as if they're roadmaps to someplace sacred only you know about. 

He's never been particularly insecure; that's not the word he would use to describe it. He just doesn't like the marred places on his body, tissue built up from where it was torn open. A silvery reminder of everything he's been through. 

He confessed he thinks his scars are ugly one evening, and you looked at him with such revere that he felt love for himself blossom deep in his bones. 

He's never seen himself as anything other than damaged goods, yet you see him in such a beautiful light he can't help but let it shine through him. 

You and Bradley have only been official for a couple of weeks, yet it feels like he's known you for a lifetime. 

You're sitting at the hard deck, and he notices you staring at the side of his face. 

"See something you like?" He jests, but your face remains serious. 

You reach out gingerly, almost afraid he'll jump back, and trace the scar on his jaw. Your fingertips leave a trail of fire, and he freezes.

"No one has ever done that before."

You look at him curiously, your forehead scrunched and your head tilted. 

"Why not?"

He shrugs shyly and averts his gaze. 

"I think they're ugly, and I guess other people do too."

You shake your head and lean forward to press a chaste kiss to the place your hand just was. 

"They're part of you, Bradley. Evidence of a life lived. There's nothing ugly about that."

You lay together on the bed that night as he took you on a journey through his life, tenderly loving each of his scars, both mental and physical. 

Your lips press barely there kisses on each mark that graces his face and neck, and Bradley allows his eyes to flutter closed. He revels in the feeling, electricity crackling just under the surface every time your mouth touches him.

"Beautiful." You whisper, and Bradley finds himself agreeing. Not because he thinks the tattered skin is special but because he now associates it with you. 

"How'd you get this one?" You ask, lips tracing a two-inch long line on his palm. 

"Cut myself with a butter knife in second grade." He responds, voice soft like rain in the fall. 

"And this one?" You're now focusing on a raised welt on his pectoral, the old mark barely visible. If you didn't know to look for it, you'd miss it. He pushes away the idea that you pay such close attention to him that you were able to pick up on it anyway; the thought makes him want to cry. 

"Paintball to my bare chest at close range. My buddy and I did it on a dare in high school."

You hum contentedly and continue on your path. 

"What about this?" 

Your finger taps his knee, and he smiles softly. 

"Varsity baseball. I was known for sliding into home, and one day I caught a piece of gravel."

You smile fondly at the visual and glance up at him. 

"Will you show me pictures sometime?"

He swallows thickly and then nods. 

He isn't usually one for reminiscing. That was around the same time Carol got sick, and he's never let anyone into that part of his life. He knows you're different; if he told you no, you wouldn't push the subject. 

He wants to share those memories with you, and he wants you to know his parents the way he did. It doesn't hurt so bad when you're the one he's talking to about them.

You let him share at his own pace, never expectant and always allowing him to stop whenever he gets uncomfortable. He feels lighter, and he supposes it's because you've seen the darkest parts of him. 

Instead of running, you took his pain gently in your hands as if to say, 'Let me help you carry this. You don't have to be crushed under the weight of your grief anymore.'

Your heart is pure, and Bradley has never felt love like yours. It's all-encompassing, wrapping him in golden light and promising never to let him be shrouded in darkness again. 

You're lying on his chest, watching as he flips through old photos and albums. Your hand rubs the scar on his palm absentmindedly as he explains each and every one to you. So many women have refused to even acknowledge the marks that glimmer when the light hits them just right, yet you find comfort in them. 

"This one was taken a couple of weeks before my dad passed." He explains, and you smile fondly at the image of little Bradley sitting atop Goose's shoulders as he and Carol laugh. You can feel the joy radiating from them and reach out to stroke the laminate paper carefully. 

"You look like them. You have your dad's eyes and mom's smile. I can see where you get your goofy and bubbly personality from. They live through you." 

You don't realize how much weight those words carry at the moment, and Bradley swallows the lump in his throat. He doesn't think he's a bubbly person, but every time you laugh at one of his corny jokes or smile at him like he hung the moon, he starts to believe it more and more. 

"How did they meet?"

You're not paying him much mind, and that's what gets him. You're not trying to be sweet and thoughtful; it's just who you are. There's no ulterior motive or desire to figure out why he's so fucked up just to fix him. 

You just want to know about him and how he came to be. It's completely innocent, an act of pure love, and he can't imagine how he got by all these years without you. 

"They were both from Virginia originally. They met at mom’s job, and she always said that she didn't notice dad at first, even though he was completely smitten. Apparently, she turned him down a few times, but he kept showing up and making her laugh. I don't entirely believe that, though." 

You move to look up at him through your lashes and kiss his jaw. 

"Why don't you believe it?" 

The question is simple, yet it causes his heart to swell. You genuinely care and want to know more. He'll never get over the fact that you listen when he tells you stories and ask more questions because you're interested in the answers. 

"Mom always looked at him like he was her whole world. I can't imagine a time that she didn't see him in that light, even in the beginning. She never even glanced at another man after he died, so I like to believe they were meant to be from the start." 

You hum and look back down as he turns to a new page. 

"Kind of like us." 

He chuckles, and you grin as his chest rumbles under your cheek. 

"Like us?"

You roll your eyes playfully and take in the picture of Carol kissing Bradley on the cheek as he grimaces. He can't be any older than five or six. 

"I've been head over heels since the second I met you, Bradley Bradshaw." 

His breath hitches, and he hesitates for a second. 

"It wasn't love at first sight? You had to meet me first?" He teases, trying to lighten the mood a bit. 

"Well, of course I noticed how handsome you are. But that's not what got me. It was your energy. You lit up the room without even knowing it. You're this ball of light, yet you don't see it. Usually, men who look like you and have a job like yours are insufferable assholes."

He snorts at this and nods. 

"Hangman." He murmurs, and you slap his arm lightly. 

"Be nice. Anyway, you're genuine and kind. It's always the most radiant people that are hardest on themselves. As soon as you said your name, you had me hook, line, and sinker. I wanted to know every last thing about you, and I'll never get tired of learning who you are."

You barely finish your sentence before he captures you in a searing kiss. You melt into him instantly, and he wonders how he managed to fall in love with an angel.

"Tell me more about them. The good parts that you think of when you want to smile." You mutter, and he looks down at you.

"On Sundays, we always had breakfast together. Dad would make french toast from scratch, and I would help mom squeeze oranges for fresh juice. We always laughed and made a mess, then cleaned it up together. I miss it."

He has a wistful smile, and you kiss the corner of his lips. 

"That sounds nice." 

He nearly sobbed when he woke up to the smell of syrup the following weekend and found you making french toast with bacon in the kitchen. It's something else you share now, the two of you dancing around each other as you sing 80s songs and giggle.

The Dagger squad walked in on it one day, and they were adopted into the tradition too. They love how Bradley is around you and quickly noticed that you always seem to be touching him somehow. 

Whether you're rubbing soothing circles on his skin, resting your legs over his, or playing with his hair, you're always showing some form of physical affection. 

One night while cuddled on the couch, Bradley almost melted into a puddle. 

You're only half watching the movie on the TV, your hands running through Bradley's curls while his head is in your lap. That's another thing, Bradley loves being held. 

Without thinking, you scratch your nails against his scalp and feel him instantly nuzzle further into your thighs. 

"Do that again, please." 

You do as he asks, and he lets out a soft groan. 

"That feels nice. I don't know the last time someone has done that." 

He's practically drooling as he says it, and you continue without another word. 

He falls asleep not long after, and you smile down at the man who carries the world on his shoulders. 

You always seem to know when Bradley needs a hug or to be the little spoon. He doesn't know how you do it, but you'll never catch him complaining. 

Like tonight, you just seem to know what he needs even if he doesn't. His feet are heavy as they carry him to the front door of your shared home, and he heaves a sigh before swinging the door open. 

It's like you know what kind of day he had, and without a moment's hesitation, you're standing in front of him, ready to take the weight off.

Your arms wrap around him, and he leans into you instantly. You shift slightly to support him and rub your hand up his back.

"Let's take a bath."

He doesn't respond other than a nod against your neck, and you lead him to the bathroom.

He watches as you run a bath with bubbles and salts before stripping down. He sits still as you take his boots off his screaming feet and carefully remove his uniform.

As soon as he's naked, you climb into the bath together, settling into the large garden tub.

You wash his hair as he leans back against you, and he shutters at the sensation. You rub shampoo into the chestnut strands, your nails scratching his scalp the way he loves every so often. He lets you work as the stress seems to be rinsed away with the suds. 

The two of you stay there in silence until the water is cold. You don't pry for details, and he's grateful. He doesn't like bringing work home; you're perfectly okay with that. You know if he needs to talk, he will. 

He clambers out of the bath, and you dry him off as exhaustion sets in, threatening to consume him before he can even lay down. 

"Stay there." You whisper, and he listens as the door opens and closes. 

You're back before he can really process you've even left and hand him clean clothes. They're warm from the dryer, and he tries to figure out when you had time to toss them in there. He wonders if you did it before he even got home, a sixth sense you've developed telling you that he would need it. 

The two of you get dressed in silence and pad into your bedroom. You pull back the comforter and climb in, opening your arms as an invitation for him. He crawls across the bed and collapses onto your chest, your arms pulling up the blanket to cover the two of you before securely wrapping around him. 

He inhales deeply, the aroma of your perfume and laundry detergent muddling his senses. The sheets have just been washed, and you've sprayed his favorite lavender vanilla freshener on the pillows. 

You trace his body the way you always do, and he settles in further, almost laying entirely on top of you. You don't mind one single bit; just happy that you're able to be some sort of solace for him as he drifts off. 

He never saw himself having this type of relationship; he didn't even want it. But as he lies here with images of you flashing through his subconscious, an overwhelming feeling of safety envelops him, and he knows he was wrong. 

Your love makes him want to fall to his knees and repent for the errors in his previous ways, almost sorry that he'd been robbing himself of this for so long. Then again, he figures he probably didn't miss much anyway. Your love is once in a lifetime; he wouldn't have found it with anyone else, even if he wanted to.

Bradley Bradshaw never saw himself as a kind or loving man until you appeared and showed him what love is. Now, he surrenders himself completely. He doesn't know if heaven is real, but he figures this is about as close as he can get. 

[aphroditesbaby1616]

Peonies - c.b. oneshot

♡ Chapter Inspo: Peonies are most commonly associated with romance, prosperity, and bashfulness. Some even believe they're a good luck charm of sorts, bringing good fortune to whoever receives them. Peonies also have some roots in Greek mythology. As one myth states, Apollo used to turn beautiful nymphs into peonies if Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty, knew he was flirting with them.

♡ Summary: Carmy has his nights past favor gratefully returned.

♡ W/C: 1,267

♡ Posted Date: 04/21/2024

♡ A/N: OMG hello all! We are churning out these one shots while TB&HH is sorted out, THANK YOU oh dear lovely anon for your request that can be found here ♡ requests are still open, comments are encouraged, as are reblogs ! I hope you enjoy :) This is a follow up to Patchouli but of course both can be read as stand alone!! ♡ Warnings for BTC: Pre-discussed consensual somnophilia, m oral receiving, swearing, alluding to f receiving, fem reader referred to as girl - not fully edited **no use of y/n**

➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡

➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡

You woke up with a sleepy smile on your face, the first thought on your mind being it’s the weekend. Ah, the weekend. The cherished Saturday and Sunday you got to spend with your beloved Bear. 

Since the restaurant did so well for itself - he was able to take the weekends off, so long as he made sure everything was done Friday which he always did, he’d never jeopardize the sacred time you two had together. It was his reprieve from the hectic kitchen, he didn’t know what ‘refreshed’ meant until he started spending weekends and evenings with his special girl. 

You felt his muscular chest pressed flush to your back, his strong nose nuzzled in the crook of your neck. There were soft hot puffs of air hitting your shoulder as he breathed, and you felt his lips touching the top of your shoulder blade with a sweet pressure, almost like a prolonged kiss. 

While his left arm was curled under your ribs, and his left hand had found its way underneath your (his) white shirt, and was cupping your breast, holding it lightly as he slept. His right arm was curled over your waist, and your hands were laced together sweetly. 

Not wanting to wake him too soon, you carefully arched your ass back to feel his morning wood standing tall and at attention. You smile to yourself, wondering if he’d fallen asleep last night remembering what you’d promised this morning, or if he was just having one of his wet dreams. 

You gently unfurled your fingers from his one at a time before carefully putting his muscular arm over his own side  and he grunted in his sleep, laying flat on his back and splaying his hand over his stomach. He’d been trained even while sleeping to subconsciously respond to you. 

Ever so carefully you detangle your legs from his sleeping ones, carefully sitting up and crawling beneath the covers of your shared California king. You settled on your knees between his legs, lightly rubbing his thighs. 

It was a failed attempt to not nuzzle your nose in the crook of his clothed thigh and his cock, taking a deep breath and nearly getting drunk off his heady musky scent, mixed with the delicious scent of dove soap from his shower last night and the laundry detergent you had picked out from the store. 

With light open mouth kisses, you kissed over his tented length, taking your right hand and rubbing over his thick yummy sex. You had to swallow extra saliva, he was quite nearly making you drool already. His cock jumped in your palm, causing you to smile proudly. 

Carm let out a soft whimper, much more relaxed and carefree then he’d be when he was awake. That is why you loved when you’d brought up your fantasy of Carmy using you while you slept, and he was all for it immediately. When you asked him if you could wake him up as well - he thought about it for a moment but after a short few questions about what he was comfortable with - he decided he was for it 100%

While he was sleeping, his noises were so pretty. They were soft and less reserved, it was easy to tell when he’d woken because instead of light airy whimpers and sweet gasps - it was hot grunts and sexy moans. You gently pushed his boxers out of the way, taking the seeping pink member to your lips, and planting sweet kisses over the head. 

He gasped softly in his sleep, his abs tightening for a moment and his hips shivering at the contact. You bit back a giggle at his sweet innocent reactions he’d otherwise be too anxious or embarrassed to show, but one of love and wonder for why he was so nervous to let you see this of him while he was awake. 

“So pretty” you whispered to yourself, pushing down his foreskin and watching in awe as a little dribble of pre bubbles from the tip and leaks down over the sensitive head. You licked your lips, looking up at him to see he was still fast asleep- but you could see his heartbeat in his neck. 

He was absolutely having a dream 

You stuck out your tongue most of the way, holding your tongue over the tip of his already weeping cock. He didn’t need it- but you knew how much he loved having his head sloppy and nasty. A thick hot drop of saliva dripped from your drooling tongue onto his sensitive tip, dripping down his shaft and over your fingers.

It was irresistible to blow on the wet trail it left and he whimpered cutely, his balls twitching since his cock was trapped in your hand. Leaning down slightly, you took the tip between your lips, kissing it lovingly before gently suckling on it, flicking your tongue over his leaking slit, moaning quietly at the taste of his salty sticky precum.   

Carm’s hips bucked up, a hot whine tearing from his throat and his stomach clenching. His cock felt hot and heavy on your tongue, the tip was an aggravated pink begging to be played with. You began stroking the bottom of his shaft after spitting into your hand, and sticking out your tongue as you take him into your  mouth, finding a steady rhythm with bobbing your head and jerking him with your hand. 

He moaned out, his back arching slightly “please-please please” he whimpered in his sleep, reaching down and feeling your head and then he was up. 

“Oh fuck” he said hotly, his voice husky and deep from sleep. He lifted his head and looked down at you with sleepy hooded eyes, a small smirk coming to his lips.  

“Jesus, babe. Thought I was dreamin’- what I do to deserve such a good girl mm?” He gently pets your hair, his thigh twitching when you gently massage his balls. 

“Oh- wow” he hummed, letting his eyes flutter shut and head fall back to the pillow comfortably. “Wow. I’m gonna cum like -baby I’m-ah- where did you learn that- what the fffff-“ he shot long hot ropes of seed down your throat, fisting the sheets and his hips shaking lightly. You smiled proudly, realizing that the porn video you’d seen on twitter had been true. You had seen someone massage the fleshy spot just beneath the balls and the guy came nearly on the spot, and a lot. 

His stomach and abs contracted in overstimulation as you worked him through it and he hissed as you flick your tongue over his head, milking the last few dribbles of cum out of his twitching softening cock. You kiss the tip gently, before trailing gentle kisses all down the base and to his thigh, over his hips and stomach. Gently releasing his cock over his stomach as he came down and you trailed kisses over his abs. 

“I think I fuckin blacked out for a second babe. Jesus fuck how did you learn that and why are you holdin’ out on me?” He asked and you giggled, tonguing over his nipple and he bit his lip, moaning softly. 

“Saw a video.” You replied, sucking gently on the small sensitive bud while you massage the other between your forefinger and thumb. He groaned softly, patting your bum 

“Done. Done. If I cum again I think you’ll literally break my balls get off me you succubus it’s your turn. On your back” he teased.  Goes without saying but you two didn't eat real food until the afternoon rolled around.

[thestalkerbunny]

I'm not caught up on kitsune lore, actually.

You have come to the right place, my friend.

All I think about is weird fox based lore.

We'll cover the 3 big ones of Japan, Korea and China.

THE FOX BREAK DOWN.

WHY THE FOX?

The fox in many cultures-in this case countries residing in the Eastern areas of the world-have been symbols of mystery, trickery, transformation and deception. This may account to the fact a fox is naturally a very fast and intelligent animal, that is rather nocturnal and has a way to always evade danger that it finds itself in. They're problem solvers. They also scream like women in distress. Or when they're happy-they scream like cars trying to rev up.

THE KITSUNE: Japanese messanger of the gods and local nuisence

The most popular of foxes in media, art and story, the Kitsune story comes from Japan. It has been the subject of movies, games, animes, mangas and even folk tales for generation. To put it simply, a Kitsune is a fox that possesses paranormal abilities. People already believed that foxes were supernatural in general-but with time and age, they'd grow smarter and wiser. A kitsune grows a new tail for every 100 years it lives-with those that have 9 tails being very powerful and with 10 tails earned, will ascend into GODHOOD.

-sound familiar to someone you might know?-

Kitsune and humans have always lived together and gotten along mostly. Fox Urine actually repels rats-so stones soaked in the urine of foxes would be placed near fields; which most likely led to people finding foxes sacred and becoming a symbol of the Japanese Deity, Inari Okami-the God of agriculture-and eventually being regarded as their messengers.

Kitsunes had the ability to shape shift-often doing so into beautiful women (and sometimes men depending on the story) and getting themselves married, but usually getting run off by their spouses' dogs (which they are afraid of) They also have a tendency to reveal themselves when they get drunk or are careless as the tails are the one part of themselves they can't hide properly (which is tricky if you got 9 of 'em.) Beautiful women with certain face structures and high cheek bones are often called 'fox faced'

Kitsune can be good or evil-some of the more wicked ones going out of their way to possesse humans and have to be exorcised to free them.

THE KUMHIO: Korea's nightmare manic pixie dream girl

The Kumhio is my personal favorite-hailing from Korean, the Kumhio (or Gumhio depending on spelling variation) is a fox similar to the Kitsune in many aspects. It's a very long lived 9 tail fox, it has supernatural powers of illusion, shapeshifting and magic. But the Kumhio is different in it's behavior. The Kumhio's favorite meal-unlike the tofu loving Kitsunes-is human livers. And they go about acquiring it in a very interesting way. They will become women (or men) and manage to get hitched up to whoever is most convenient and begin to systematically prey on everyone in the household. First the animals, then the servants, the family, and often times leaving the spouse for last. They are also known to dig up fresh graves to get the livers. They also sport something similar to the kitsune that was not mentioned-a Bead they keep inside their bodies that they can cough up. This is called a Fox Bead. Putting this bead in your mouth can give you IMMENSE knowledge of the sky land and seas. Often times this is only shared by the Kuhio via a sort of 'deep kiss' where it puts the ball in your mouth and then takes it back with it's long unnatural tongue. But most cases have been people trying to steal it/accidently swallowing it. Although humans are a Kumhio's prey-if a Kumhio abstains from killing and consuming a human for 1000 days, it too will become mortal and then can enjoy all mortal perks (getting married, sharing a life span with someone, not being a literal monster) They are sometimes in mythology (depending on who you ask and which variation of the story you read) regarded as a lesser creature, but still very very dangerous. I wouldn't wanna fuck around and find out with one of these puppies.

FAVORITE PIECE OF MEDIA INVOLVING A KUMHIO:

Laon, it's a great horror read, kinda short, but still great. I love it unironically.

THE HULI-JING: Your friendly neighborhood fox ghost

The Huli-Jing is another Fox Spirit, this time from China. Much like Japan, it has the same properties as the Kitsune; Supernaturally weird, crazy long lived, can become god, people tend to like them. Until they do fucked up stuff. One case had a huli-jing posesses an important woman in power and she and her husband while posessed basically started torturing and murdering people and starting a massive revolt against their dynasty. Unlike Kumhios who suck life essence from the mouth (and eat your liver) The Huli-Jing will go the Succubus route and.....steal semen. That's right, the foxes are turning into hot hot women and are stealing your life force via your jizz boys, keep it in your pants. But despite that, many villages in history love the Fox Spirit-a saying going as far as villages shouldn't be established without a fox spirit milling about. They're seemingly friendly provided you pay them the right respects. Many people would have in home shrined dedicated to them to make offerings right there.

TLDR: Foxes are fuckin' spooky, turnin into women, stealin' your semen, your liver and making your goddamn rice grow. fuckin' foxes doin' FOX SHIT.

[sidewalk-cracks]

okay everybody, listen up, because I need to talk about Edward Elric. I've started watching fmab and I am losing my mind over this boy. There's so many incredible things about this kid; he's such an incredible protagonist.

the realism of Ed is so painfully wonderful- this is a fifteen year old child. Remember what you were like when you were fifteen? Yeah? Fifteen is so young. This is a child who's had to grow up WAY too fast and has been through so many unspeakable things, but he's still a kid and he actually ACTS like it. He gets irritable over small things and acts "childish" when he's excited and has that touch of arrogance a teen gets when they know they're important.

Ed gets scared. He's not like a lot of your "unshakable" shounen protagonists, who, when faced with something shocking in a fight, eyes only widen and mouth only frowns and they only worry a little and maybe ask for an explanation. No, Ed is a kid and he gets scared. Sometimes he handles fights well, but sometimes he freezes. When Scar found him and Al, when he hurt Al and tore out Ed's arm and pursued relentlessly in the rain, standing over Ed as Ed writhed on the ground, Ed screamed for his brother and froze in his fear and thought he was about to die then.

He's so fifteen in everything- in his anger and his arrogance, in his fear, in his trauma, in his reverence of life. Ed is at the age when your eyes truly start to open to reality and society, though given his past he probably started earlier. But he holds life so preciously, so closely, cradles it in his arms and declares over and over again that it is one thing he will not trample, will not hurt. That fifteen-year-old conviction and the leftover naivety from childhood, paired with the newer discovery of just how sacred, how beautiful and important life is.

He's fifteen in his love. You ever been around teenagers, especially today's teenagers, and you know they do everything fiercely, most things boldly, and Ed screams it in his love. In his protection of Al, his absolute dedication and protection to the one person he has left, can hold close. He's a teenager in their banter but such an eldest sibling in every way- in his drive to protect Al from anything, everything he can, in his leadership, in his fear of losing his sibling.

Ed is such a real person, such a real kid. He's incredibly mortal, unlike a lot of op shounen protagonists. He hits his head and it bleeds. He gets impaled and struggles to stand at all. Every time he's injured we see him recovering in the hospital after. He has nightmares from his fear of failure, about Al and his mother and Nina. He's smart but not indestructible. He's incredibly earnest about his convictions, earnest about the beauty of life, just like a teen.

Edward Elric is probably the most realistic anime teen I've ever seen, and I love him SO much

[deepmochi]

Lilith in the 4th house 💎

Lilith in Cancer can also read it, or Lilith-moon aspects.

⚠️ Read: Mention of cheating, family dynamic and mothers!

What to learn: Emotions make you stronger, you are worthy of real love, and your family shouldn't define you.

What to avoid: Having victim mentality, blame others for your wrongdoings, and over nurturing tendencies with others.

Some celebrities: Alexa Demie, John Travolta, Donald Trump, Ozzy Osbourne, Shia Labeouf, Justin Bieber, Cameron Díaz, Brook Shields, Kristen Dunst, Margot Robbie, William Shakespeare (apparently) Cary Grant, Orlando Bloom, Jennifer Garner, and Jessica Alba.

🕯Issues with femininity and the idea of being a woman. In men, issues with being nurtured by a woman.

🕯Undeveloped Lilith attracts overprotective (toxic) people and manipulators.

🕯 They could cheat with people who are married just for the sake of feeling better (if bad aspected).

🕯 Other women admire or like them, but men like them more (male gaze).

🕯The mother could compete with them for certain reasons. These creates issues with female peers.

🕯 Can easily became a mother even thought they don't want it. Pregnancy scares could be a thing. Use protection please.

🕯They're very private about their roots and family. They will avoid posting pictures on their social networks.

🕯 Motherhood troubles them; they can come to a term if they do it willingly.

🕯 Mothers are sacred to them, but mother was also their worst nightmare. Mother was harsh and cold at times.

🕯 Emotions are not easy to read for them; sometimes, they might ignore them, creating chaos.

🕯 They prefer long-term relationships even if it is toxic. They might follow the family pattern. The must work on it.

🕯 Father was an absent figure; mother has both roles combined. They can imitate this too if bad aspected, especially men.

🕯Emotional manipulator: they can use people's feelings to their pleasure.

🕯 They use their body and feminine energy to lurk others in. "Why you feel like that?.... tell me"

🕯Undeveloped Lilith is the friend who cheats with you bf/crush and makes her innocent face..."I didn't knew you were together" (pd: she knew).

🕯 People can see them as innocent or someone who need protection.

🕯Disconnection with the body and their feminine energy, especially when something traumatic happens at home.

🕯Women has difficult relationships with mothers or mother figure during childhood. Mother was very demanding.

🕯Here, Lilith doesn't want to be consider only a "woman"; they want more than that.

🕯However, this Lilith can be highly sexualised due to their feminine energy. Men can use them as ego boost for the immature masculine energy.

🕯 Men with this placements can have big issues with their emotions. They may ignore their pain and feminine energy, producing cheating or violence outburst.

🕯Both (women and men) can be moody when they're "hurt", and use these emotions as weapons.

🕯The mother could have hurt them or used for her benefit. She may sold them metaphorically to society, or they didn't shield them when they need to.

🕯Prone to follow traumas from their childhood. If they denied their mother issues, they may repeat their pattern.

🕯 As a mother, they are afraid to be like their mother. It's highly possible that this native sees motherhood as complex. However, they are call to cut the ties with the past.

🕯 The best partner is someone who nuturues them, but this person is destructive for their home if wounded. So, they may run away from "commitment" or commit too quickly to toxic people.

🕯 Society pressures them to be a woman. To follow a certain path, they have to deal with the Madonna-whore complex.

🕯 When they are younger, they tend to be sexualized. When older, people "miss" their old self aka beauty. Here, the native must value herself in very stage. She isn't missing anything. She is worthy in every stage.

🕯 They were sexualised very young, unfortunately. Even use as profitable object, look at Justin Bieber, Brook Shield and Shia Labeouf. They were introduced very young to Hollywood.

🕯Deep down, many of them want the home and family they couldn't have. However, they must understand that marriage is more that a social contract. It's a healing process for them. Love goes a deep as they let it.

🕯 Some may have weird family dynamics, which lead to traumas.

🕯 They will very private with their families, partners and lovers. Overprotective tendencies.

🕯Like to follow traditional roles such as, marriage, couple titles (ex: bf or gf), or/ and traditional families. Also, they make like to damage them.

🕯 They can be seen as a perfect parent or as a lacking one. Society is the one that decides (is not always true).

🕯Prefer to live far away from their family. It's safer for them.

🕯 It's very protective of their love ones, especially younger children and sisters/brothers.

🕯Their home is a very private area. They save it from really close people.

🕯They prefer to have small wedding or doing something rather private. If Lilith is immature, they will be a show.

🕯 Bad aspected Lilith would like to take your bf or husband from the sake of feeling loved. They're wining him over you because "they're better than you".

🕯Home could have an abusive dynamic.

🕯Young girls and boys are prone to date older men/ women due to mommy / daddy issues. With time, they realize that nobody can heal them, only themselves will do it.

Take care, loves!

Note: just take what resonates.💚