#wheat color boots

[millerblg]

The promise of the Red Collection—a line of work boots in Australia crafted to meet the diverse needs of Aussie workers.

[shotmrmiller]

@magicislikelove said pathetic!simon with single mom reader.

pathetic!simon sees you the first time when you move in, dragging a heavy box through to your door, and he is enthralled.

he also doesn't move to help you because the grunts that escape your lips from the effort set his loins ablaze.

your flushed skin glistening with sweat— a rosy hue across your face, perspiration dripping from your temple down to your chin, where it collects like dew drops. (he wonders if you taste like brine, or sweet like golden wheat)

the swell of your soft hips peeking from under your damp shirt that rides up whenever you bend down to get a good grip on the edges of the cardboard box. (he wishes those dainty fingers would caress his scarred back, leaving trails of red in their wake)

every noise that spills from your bow-shaped lips the color of petals sends a lick of pleasure up his spine, white-hot and agonizing. (what he wouldn't do for you to spit into his mouth, or maybe just on him altogether and make him clean it up)

he watches you raise your arms to pull your sweaty hair away from your face with delicate hands— slender, fragile wrists twisting it into a makeshift sloppy bun. (would you tug on his hair like that? would you pull until you felt the cropped strands pop from his scalp?)

and then you look up and notice him standing in the hallway, right by his front door. your eyes lock onto his, and he feels the oxygen in his lungs being siphoned away.

"uh, hi."

his breath lodges in his throat, or maybe it's spit because he's spinning on the balls of his feet, his back to you as he barks out dry coughs until he can breathe again.

"are... are you alright?" the slight worry in your voice has his cock twitching.

he'd be better if he could use that shirt you're currently wearing as a mask— the wet spots right over his crooked nose.

"yes. sorry. i'm a little ill," he hoarsely utters before turning back around to face you. "it's just a mild cough, so i can help ya with tha', if ya like." his head tips toward the box he's been watching you fight with for the past half-hour.

"i'd, i mean, yeah...okay." he doesn't care that you sounded almost coerced, simon moves with the speed he uses in the field, and is by your side in seconds, hoisting up the box wordlessly.

he stares at you, waiting for you to turn around and invite him into your home.

"uhm, right this way," you push open the door quietly, and point at the kitchen floor. "there please."

simon does as you say, (like a good boy, he thinks, won't you let him be your good boy?) when he hears a child's cries come from behind a closed door.

"ah, duty calls. i really do appreciate you helping me," you give him a small grin. "i'll see you around, yeah?"

simon slowly nods at you before turning to leave, opening your front door when he notices that you've begun to walk toward your wailing offspring. (he didn't see a ring on your finger)

he discreetly swipes the scented plug-in (just a touch too hot in his roughened palm) by the door and heads toward his own flat.

simon doesn't even fully undress, just hastily undoes the button of his jeans and lets them drop mid-thigh before he slams his back on the living room wall and begins to unscrew the plug-in.

the slick, hot, aromatic oil pulls a sibilant hiss from his thin, chapped lips as it touches the sensitive skin of his meaty cock and lathers himself in it with a couple of experimental strokes.

he squeezes the base of it, encircling it with his large hand, so tight it hurts.

that's what you'd feel like around him.

simon grips himself and starts to fuck his fist— choppy, desperate thrusts that has his toes curling in his muddy, creased boots.

his hand is calloused, just on the edge of too rough, but it doesn't stop him from imagining it's you that's on his cock, bouncing on it with fervor.

his nostrils sting with the overwhelming smell of the oil even through the thick fabric of his mask— a heady mix of lavender and vanilla— and it makes his head spin.

the web space between his thumb and pointer drags along his frenulum, and white spots dance behind his eyelids. sweat beads his brow as he gets closer to his end, the ecstasy coursing through his veins threatening to consume him whole.

simon replays the sounds you made earlier in his head, and for once, it drowns out the usual low ringing in his ears, intensifying his arousal.

he's pumping himself roughly now, fast and jerky as he rears his peak.

would you let him come inside of you? paint your silken walls with his unworthy spend?

when he thinks of you trying to hook your ankles at the base of his spine to keep him deep inside of you as he tries to weakly pull out is what breaks him.

his cock spasms as thick spurts of warm cum dribble all over his scarred knuckles and pants.

simon's hand is slippery as he continues to pump his softening length, and squeezes right under his flared head, the remnants of his pleasure beading at the tip.

his gait is awkward, and stiff as he waddles toward the kitchen with his trousers still by his wide, hairy thighs— plugging in the wall scent on his way there.

unbeknownst to him, he was giving you that kubrick stare and it made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

you also thanked the stars that he wasn't a serial killer.

[ophanstears]

Undertale YELLOW ReImagined!

I wanted to put my own spin on how the cast of UTY would look in my style! :) I'm new to pixel art, and I had a blast trying it out! [Just to clarify, this is NOT an attempt to "fix" UTY's designs; I have immense respect for all the artists and developers working on UTY, and their work is incredible! I LOVE the cast, their animations, art and designs! This is all just for fun!] A ton more thoughts and comparison under the Read More! if you feel like reading a lot.

Flowey the Flower: I gave Flowey flushed, freckled cheeks and a tooth gap to make him look cuter and more approachable! Just a ruse, though - fluster him enough, and he might revert to that typical pale face and frown.

Clover: Clover is the iconic player character of the game so I changed as little as possible. I simply adjusted some colors and added details, including the adorable blush they have in a lot of promo art!

Dalv: I aimed to showcase Dalv's lightning powers through his design, so I gave him glowing horns and some subtle markings, including a pinkish nose. <3 While he’s originally based on Vlad, I added some minotaur elements because they really suit him. I Like in the original story, the minotaur trapped in a maze, unsure of what else is out there.

Martlet: I'll be honest, I saw some art of chubby Martlet and was inspired. To bring her passion for woodworking across, I gave her some tight but comfy overalls! She has some cool goggles that she always forgets to wear when flying - typical Martlet! Since a martlet is said to be a bird that never rests or settles, I gave her some cool glowly ghost legs! They're translucent!

Starlo: I revamped Starlo's cape by changing the patterns and adding tassels! I also removed the piece of wheat sticking to his hat because, honestly, I tend to forget to draw it. ^^* The inner fabric of his cape has a fun star pattern, tying into his previous obsession with space! And of course, big boots!

Ceroba: I made Ceroba a bit furry-like and taller, sort of to mirror Toriel! I wanted to give her a more traditional kimono with beautiful patterns, and I added eyebags to make her look a bit tired. She also has large paws now; I considered giving her sandals but ultimately decided against it.

Axis: To be honest I wanted to push his design even further but!!! Then it wouldn't be Axis anymore! :( I kept most of his original features but added some pink highlights. His antennae now have pointy tips, resembling bunny ears! I couldn’t resist the idea of a fox monster creating a bunny robot to apprehend humans - it’s just too cute! He's also taller now for intimidation factor and in case a larger human comes along.

And that's all! Thank you so much if you made it this far! More is to come soon! :) here is a wip!

I also have an AU in the works! And lots and lots of art!!!

[stalkerofthegods]

Lord Hermes Deep dive

Lord Hermes is amazing, he is the darling of the gods and of our hearts, he is strong in gymnastics and in spirit, he is the last thing we see, and the lord of our words, and as a worshiper and as a researcher I believe he is amazing and wonderful, I absolutely adore him, so I should probably stop writing, or it'll become a love letter, but I've worshiped this god for around 2 years, maybe more, but I know well he is amazing and deserves respect.

Herbs • Krokos (Crocus) koumara Tree, olives/olive oil, crocus, hydrangea, chrysanthemum, Palm tree, Almond tree, The Silver Birch tree, Crocuses, Saffron, Wheat, Rosemary, Pine Tree, Mint, Cinnamon, Cassia, Golden Benzoin, moly, strawberry

Animals• sheep, dogs, boars, lions, Tortoise, Ram, The dove killing species of Hawk, Hares, constellation Lepus, pig, beef, mutton, pork, Cattle/oxen, roster, birds of omen, snakes, and guard dogs, fish, horses

Colors• Red, purple, silver, gold, copper, and black, Orange, Grey, Green, Red, white and brown (associated with traveling)

Crystal• Amethyst, Quartz, Orange topaz, Agate, Marble, smoky quartz, copper, silver, and gold, Eisenkiesel Quartz, Silver, Yellow Topaz, Amber, Citrine, Emerald, and Peridot, red marble, Hematite, jade, malachite, fluorite, pyrite, lapis lazuli, alexandrite

Symbol• Caduceus, Kerykeion (Herald’s staff and magic wand, lulls mortals to sleep and can wake mortals at will), Winged Cap (also called petasos, and a brimmed cap, this cap was called “Cap of Aidoneus, the unseen” because it rendered its wearer invisible), Golden Sickle, Winged Boots- called “pteroeis pedila”, A Sack (the kibisis) Talaria (winged sandals), and Petasos (winged helmet), golden or adamantine blade, shepherd pipes, Purse, Pouch, Hermai.

Mortal or immortal • immortal 

Zodiac• Gemini and Virgo, and cancer 

Equivalent (this means alike, not the same) - Mercury (Roman), Hyperion (Greek), , Horus (Egyptian), Ra (Egyptian), Amun (Egyptian), Freyr (Norse), Bragi (Norse), Odin (Norse), Baldr (Norse), Heimdallr (Norse), Lugh (Celtic), Áine (Celtic), Mercurius (Roman god), Thoth (Egyptian god), Anubis (Egyptian god), Woden-Odin (Germanic god)

Attendees • Oreiades (oreads), Pan & the panes, Satyroi, oneiroi, he is often seen with Hestia.

Ephiphets• Agetor -Guide of Souls, Agonius or Enagonius -pertaining (Hermes’ role as presider over solemn festivals such as Agonius) Agoraea and Agoraeus- to Gods who were considered being the protectors of the assemblies of the people in the agora (also has a reference to the agora as the marketplace), Argeiphontes- “radiant one’, Euskopos Argeiphontes, literally “the sharp-eyed Slayer of Argos”, Chthonius or Chthonios, “of the earth or underworld, Hermes Trismegistus- “Thrice Great Hermes”, Kriophoros- the “ram-bearer” is a figure that commemorates the solemn sacrifice of a ram, Leucus- “white”- an epithet of Hermes in Boetia, a Greek city containing Thebes, “Of the Golden Blade”- he carried a sickle made of adamant, Cyllenius, or Kullhnios- from His birth or temple site on mount Cyllene in Arcadia, Diaktoros Argeiphontes – “the courier” Argeiphontes, Kratus Argeiphontes- “strong” Argeiphontes, Hermes Promakhos- “the Champion” Logios- writer, knower of intelligent design, Tetragonos- four square, Aglaos -Splendid, Agoraios - Of the Market Place, Aipytos -Of Aipytos, Akakesios -Of Akakesion, Angelos -Messenger, Agreiphontes -Argus-Slaying, Bouphonos -Slayer of Oxen, Dioktoros -Messenger, Dolios -Crafty One, Enagonios- Of the Games, Enodios - of the Road, Epimelios - Keeper of the flocks, Eriounios - Luck-Bringer, Euangelos - Bringer of Glad Tidings, Euskopos - Watchful, Gumnasiarkhos - Leader of the Gymnasium, Hermeneutes - Interpreter, Kerdoos - the Gainful, Kerukes -Herald, Kharmophron—Heart-Delighting, Khthonios - of the Earth, Khrysorrhapis -Of the Golden Wand, Klepsiphron - Deceiver, Kourotrophos - Protector of Youth, Kranaios- unknown, Krateros - Mighty, Kriophoros - Ram-Bearer, Kullenios - Of Mount Kyllene, Logios -of Speech, Maiados Huios - Son of Maia, Mekhaniotes - Trickster, Nomios - Protector of Flocks, Oiopolos - Shepherd, Pantokrator- Ruler of the World, Pheletes -Thief, Poikilometes - Full of Various Wiles, Poneomenos - Busy One, Promakhos- Champion, Propulaios - Before the Gates, Psukhopompos - Conveyer of Souls, Takhus - Swift, Tetragonos - Square, Trikephalos - Of the Three Ways/Heads, Trismegestos - Thrice-Greatest, Tukhon- Bringer of Luck, Aglaos- Radiant, Bright, Beautiful, Pleasin, enevolent. Angelos Athanatôn - messenger of the gods, Angelos Makarôn- messenger of the Blessed, Akhos Phêlêteôn- leader of robbers and thieves, Chrysorrhapis- of the Golden wand, Dais herairos - comrade of the forest, Diaktoros- guide & messenger, Dolios- Craft of Wiles, Dôtor Eaôn - giver of good things, Dôtor eaôn- Giver of good things, Enagônions- giver of good things, Enagônios-of the game, Epimêlios-Keeper of the flocks, Erikydês- famous, glorious & splendid, Eriounês - Luck bringing & ready helper, Euskopos-Keen-sighted, Hermêneutês- interpreter/translator, Kharidôtês- giver of joy/graces, Kharmonphrôn- Glad-Hearted, Krateros- Strong & mighty, Kriophoros- ram bearer, Kydimos-glorious, mastêrios- of searchers, mêkhaniôtês-trickster, Oiopolos- sheep tending& shepherd, Phêlêtês- their, robber, rustler, poikilomêtês- full of various wiles, Polytropos - Much traveled& much wandering, pompaios- the guide (he’s a psychopomp) 

Element • air 

Number•Four, eight, Squares

Past courtships• Merope, Aphrodite, Dryope, Peitho, and Hecate,

Personality• People say he is chaotic, some say he’s wise and can be calm, he does give serious advice and is a serious guy, but he also has a sense of humor and won’t always steal from you. (he won’t if you ask him not to..I think.) He is also sassy and side eyes (from other people) I find him difficult to track down, He's very kind and upbeat sometimes, depends on how u contact him and what mood he's in, he gives great advice and someone good to depend on.

Patron of• of cunning thieves and liars, Patron of herdsmen, Patron of orators, Patron of inventors, Cattle-herders, Shepherds, Goatherds, Horse & mule breeders, Grazing pastures, Cave shelters, Guard-dogs, Animal predators, Bucolic poetry, music, Animal fables (ex- the tales of Aesop), Laws of hospitality, he is the Protector of guests, Cattle-rustlers, Bandits, Crafty thoughts, Mail carriers and sorters, Retail workers, Canvassers , Editors, journalists, and writers, Newspaper routes, Bank tellers, Carnies , Casino workers, Gas station attendants, Mechanics, presentations, public speaking, playlists (I've heard this years ago)

Diety of• Divine Trickster, boundaries and thresholds, Creator of civilization as Trickster, Messenger of the Gods, transgressor of boundaries and taboos, Inventor of fire, Inventor of sacrifice, of mysteries, Bringer of sleep, dreams, and visions, free will, Psychopompos or Guide of the Dead, Escort of the Gods, thieves, graves, and heralds, Luck, Unexpected Fortune, Giver of Good, of sacrificial priests, successful communication with enemies, translation and language, gymnasia and athletic youth, logos world order, trade and commodities, astronomy, knowledge, speech, Inventor of boxing, running and foot races, of exchange, alchemy, science, internet, Magic, Presider at solemn sacrifices, Divine Movement, Ruler of the Orphic House of Cancer, Ruler of the Planet Mercury, Western astrological signs of Gemini and Virgo, Scribe of the Gods, Protector of all messengers especially in war, Protector of wise women and elderly women, Fertility and Procreation, God of Masturbation, Soul Transformation and Guide through Consciousness changes, Heraldry and animal husbandry, speed, Codes, and Secrets, Caretaker of graves, Protector of travelers, Mechanics, Wine-pourer of the Gods, Inventor of weights and balances, Controller of Birds of Omen, hospitality, diplomacy, physical and moral boundaries, Orators, presentation, public speaking

Home• Mount Olympus 

Fact• He invented the alphabet and dice and the lyre, he also has a stone called the “hermai” on the side of the road or a stone with a penis (he was a fertility god) to show a border or a crossing, sometimes to explain direction and distance, or in important landmarks is up ahead, the herms were worshiped, with offerings and anointed with olive oil and adorned with flowers and wreaths, telling us about the sacredness and importance of the hermai. (The ones near tombs are also connected to funeral rites). Some say he created fire, because in his myth of his birth he started a fire to sacrifice cows to the gods.

Roots• Greek mythology, Mount Cyllene

Blessings • protection on the road, money randomly found, easy speaking, good parking, and less traffic. Herds multiply (fertility); Herds protected (from predators), Success in trade, Goods protected from thieves, having Persuasive speech, Poetic inspiration, Safe traveling, Protection of guests, Homes protected from thieves & criminals, having Wiliness and stealth, 

Curses: Herds die off by disease and infertility, Herds lost to predators, Unsuccessful trade, loss in money, loss in memory, loss In conversation, unwelcome ghosts in the house.

Food recipe • Panspermia, a mixture of beans, peas, seeds, olive oil, milk, and honey, should only be offered to Hermes in his Underworld aspect. This offering is considered food for the dead and should not be tasted by the living (considered bad luck if Aten by living) 

Offerings • Keys, Dice, Playing cards, Coins, Rocks/pebbles,Lucky charms (Cereal), Rabbit's foot, Horse shoe, Magic 8 ball, Coffee, Energy drinks, Herms, Road trip snacks (perhaps Hostess donuts), Airplanes/trains/cars imagery, Foreign/new foods, Trail mix, Peanut m&ms, rumane the marble popping soda drink, Turtles, Lyres/string instruments, Sandals/shoes/running shoes, Journals, Camping gear, Survival gear, like multitools, fire starters, first aid kits etc, Pens/pencils, Small (stolen) trinkets, Language dictionaries, Work out gear, Panpipes, Postcards, Letters, Mail, Stamps, Envelopes, Zodiac signs, Sheep/goats, Car parts, Backpacks/drawstring bags/bags, Crocos, Sticks, Saffron, Sticks, Books, Cups, Scales, Dream journals, Graveyard dirt, Cookie fortunes, Bikes/skateboards/skate, Old licenses/IDs, Sport trophies/jerseys/jackets/gear, Wings, Letters/numbers, Video games, Magic kits, Oranges/Lemons, Beer, White wine, Red wine for (His chthonic aspect), Milk, Mutton, Pork, Beef, Chamomile tea, Honey, Olive oil, Strawberries, Foreign foods, Eggs, Virgo or Gemini moon water,Golden objects, Silver objects, Musical instruments, Wands, Money/coins, Foreign money/coins, Dice, Pebbles, Feathers, Turtle shaped objects or art, Strawberry art or toys, Crocus flowers, Written stories or letters, Travel food, Souvenirs from your trips wheat, honey, twigs of olive, honey-comb and honey from local bees, cassia, cinnamon, saffron, include eggs, onions, garlic, pomegranate seeds, and fish or pork, barley grains, mead, beer (Especially German), lead, papyrus, pebbles, herms (or boundary stones), chocolate, whipped cream, coffee drinks, brightly-colored easter eggs, blueberries, granola, almonds, walnuts, pecans, Absinthe, beer, gin, vodka, red-bull, dry white wine, blessed moon water (especially in Virgo, Cancer, or Gemini), metal, jars, gin, pomegranates, onions, fish, garlic, Statues, Turtle Imagery, Hawk Imagery, Ram Imagery, Rooster Imagery, Marbles, Postcards, Chocolate, Lemons, Almonds, Mutton, Foreign Food, Brightly Colored Eggs, Onions, Sunflower Seeds, Fig Newton Cookies, Granola, Candies, Strawberry Milk, spring water, cookies or cakes, Wine, Golden cakes, Golden raisins, Apples, Music or poetry, Dancing, Drawings, pineapple, anything with computers, (especially boxing games, online games, and hackers), orange peels, gas station coffee!!, apples, bananas, grapes,Anything containing mercury, Crocuses, Panpipes, Saffron, Strawberries, Chocolate, Wheat, Honey, Lemons, Almonds, Cassia, Cinnamon, Pork or mutton, Spring water, Comforting a dying loved one, letters

Devotional• Board games, Dominos, pick up sticks, playing jacks, bouncy balls, peanut m&ms, write letters, go on walks, go run, do marathons in his honor, road trips, learn about alchemy, astrology, astral travel, prophet dreams, anything astrology related, learn basic car mechanics, give whatever to panhandlers, go talk to panhandlers (keep them company) , pranks, public speaking, tip well, stargazing, geocaching, learn a new language, Learn ASL, work out, Deive safely and predictably, use your blinkers fucking properly , bike/skate, clean your car, make a travel alter (for Hermes), get a passport, Travel , practice keyboarding, have a penpal, Train your voice, magic tricks, check your mail/email , low risk gambling (ex• lotto tickets) , make sigils, race, Play tag, be nice to wait staff, play sports, make maps of trails near you, make maps in general, play string instruments , Make herms, Carpool, Uphold confidentiality, Coin tricks, Be a reliable worker, Thrifting/yard saying, Dumpster diving, Making trades and barter, Help look for missing people/pets, Travel to new places, Learn a new sport, Practice speaking in public or online, Practice writing, Learn astrology, Learn astronomy, Learn about agriculture and animal husbandry, Learn magic tricks, Collect coins, Have a feast in His name, Dice games (ex- DnD), Card games, Donate to homeless shelters in His name, Give money to the hhomeless, Keep a dream journal, Write Him stories and poems or jokes, Honor the dead, Invoke Him on your travels or when looking for a job, always thank Him when you arrive safely or have some luck in your life, studying, learning, playing harmless pranks, attending magic shows, going on adventures, trying out new things, donating to fundraisers, working out, Taking a scenic route on your way home,Picking up loose change, Going to thrift stores, Being patient with delivery drivers, Going for walks, Making a mood board, Making a playlist, Making a dedicated journal, Giving to those in need, Going to/Watching sporting events, Practicing safe driving, Donations to hospitals and health institutions Donations to local artists, learn on how to save on gas, learn how to surf, draw sigils on shoes, leave coins when you leave places (extra points for pennys), give people in need a bus fare, clean off snow on other peoples car, clean your car, stopping for others (nicely, don’t run them over!), let him pick music, get a passport in his honor, decorate your passport, learn how animals communicate, call a love one, establish and force, dedicate a electronic to him, collect stamps and post cards, keep ur secrets, communicate with people when your upset,Keep a journal, Learn a new language/Revisit, Learn ASL, Learn about the evolution of language and how it is always changing, Be mindful of the language you use in daily life, Change your self-talk to positive, Voice training (Particularly for trans worshippers), Thinking before you speak, Learn about older forms of communication (ex- Morse Code), Learn braille,Go to the library and practice reading books in a foreign language ,Practice writing (great to do, Learn about the elements of writing, like allegory and metaphors, Play pranks (remember that good pranks cause confusion, not harm), Buy scratch offs/play the lottery, Understand how gambling addictions affect people, Dice and card games, Learn about good luck charms/Make your own, Learn about superstitions, Games like billiards or darts, Arcade/video games/carnival games, Make small/friendly bets, Poker nights in his honor, Do aGame of horseshoe, Learn parlor games, Smoke a bowl with Him, Learn a good joke, Write/perform stand up comedy,  Checking your mail, Checking email/voicemail, Buying stamps, Flipping a coin, Dice divination, Charm casting, present a presentation in his honor, public speaking in his honor

Siblings• Aeacus, Angelos, Aphrodite, Apollo, Ares, Artemis, Athena, Dionysus, Eileithyia, Enyo, Eris, Ersa, Hebe, Helen of Troy, Hephaestus, Heracles, Minos, Pandia, Persephone, Perseus, Rhadamanthus, the Graces, the Horae, the Litae, the Muses, and the Moirai.

Appearance in astral or gen• Winged cap and boots, Traveller’s cloak, Youthful usually beardless figure or with a beard, with a Caduceus, sometimes seen with a mustache

Parentage• Zeus and the nymph Maia or Uranus and Hemera

Sacred days, festivals- Wednesday, the 4th day of the month, Hermaea, Agonius, in Cydonia social order was inverted for the festival and masters waited on their slaves, and slaves got to taste freedom. 

Season• March, April, May, June (based on zodiacs) 

Status• Messenger of the gods, and an underworld worker, he is called the darling of the gods

Music • anything from flutes or the lyre.

Sacred places• Mt Kyllene in Arkadia (his birthplace), Arcadia, mount Cyllene, Tricrena mountains, his Temples, his Cavern-shrines, Altars in market-places, gymnasiums, athletic arenas, house entrances. 

Planet• mercury

Tarot• eight wands, magician, judgment, and maybe seven swords 

Scents/Inscene • Frankensince, Myrrh incense, Lavender incense, strawberry, camphor, and malabathrumcock, storax, mastic, mace, moly, nettles, asafoetida, ginger, and marjolane, dragon’s blood incense, list cloves, tobacco, nag champa, poppy, and vanilla, ink on parchment, Musk, White Sandalwood, Nettles

His kids -Hermaphroditus, Tyche, Abderus, Autolycus, Eudorus, Angelia, and Myrtilus, Arabos, Abderos, Aithalides, Bounos, Daphinis, Ekhion, Eleusis (according to others, she was a minor goddess of Eleusinian Mysteries), Euandros, Kaikos, kephalos, keryx, kydon, libys, Mytilos, Norax, Orion, Paris, Paris, phaunos, polybos,saon

What I associate with him• rock music, bricks, dinosaurs, and wine (I promised to share my first cup of wine with him once I turn 21)

Some summarized myths •

Birth- Hermes was born from his mother Maia, the goddess of the fields, and his Father Zeus, he hid in a cave with his mother in Mt. Cyllene in Arcadia, the same day he was born (or when he was a toddler), he ran away while his mother was out, he stole cattle and turned their feet backwards, to 'trick' Apollo, he went back to the cave and made a fire and sacrificed 2 cows to catch the gods attention and ate 1 and hid the rest, outside after he ate he saw a  tortoise feeding and cleaned it out and made strings together from a cow he ate, and made a lyre and a plectrum, and Apollo found him, furious he took him to his father and he denied everything and zeus found it hilarious, and he had to head back to the place where he hid the cattle, on the way he played the lyre, Apollo was enamored by it and asked for it and in return he would be his best friend and forgive him, and while helping Apollo tend to the cattle he made pan pipes, which Apollo made him a deal for his iconic golden snake staff and the skill of phropecy by using pebbles.

Killing Argos- Zeus had a lover Io, Who he was laying with in a field, Hera saw and strolled over, he struck in panic turned her into a cow, and Hera came over and demanded it as a gift, and zeus obliged, zeus in a panic asked Hermes to slay it, Hermes went to the cane where the all-seeing giant was, he lured him to sleep with a song, and when he was asleep, he slashed all his eyes and killed him, and took the cow, and in grief Hera turned the giant into a peacock to save the memory and to honor the giant. that's the myth where he gained the title 'Argos slayer'

Prayers•

Safe travels

Swift-footed Hermes, friend of the traveler, friend of those who find themselves far from their homes, by will or by chance, I pray to you. Hermes, who moves between the realms with authority and ease, who leads men and women on their last, longest journey, who stands at the crossroad, who watches the byways, in you I place my trust, for by your might I know that when I stumble I will rise again, that when I choose my way I will choose aright. Hermes, as I make my way through the world, whether I wander or whether I walk my path with care, be with me.

In general

Hermes of the ready wit and the lightning smile, wing-footed one who carries the words of the gods, compassionate one who guides the newly-dead to the hall of Hades and fair Persephone, quick-thinking one who takes interest in the world and works of mankind, whose hand we see in a run of luck and a clever scheme, I call to you. Hermes, bearer of the herald’s staff, your gifts are great. You guard our homes with constancy and care, you grant to us a portion of your own craft and wile, you join with us when we revel and are merry, you stand with us when we are far from home, alone. You are ever with us, O Hermes; O god who holds in hand the good of men, I honor you.

hestia & hermes for good money

I call to Hermes, god of the marketplace, god of the the deal, from whose hands fall shining coins. I call to Hestia, goddess of the home, goddess of good management, who knows the ways of thrift. Grant me a keen eye to spot a bargain, I pray; grant that I know false economy from true. Grant me the craft to repair what is broken, grant me the sufficiency to save for what may come. Grant me the wisdom to live with care, O gods, the discipline and skill to live within my means; grant me the wit to know my needs and my desires, grant me the judgment to know the difference.

This info is some UPG and some traditional, I do not find UPG disrespectful at all and some of it is my own experience, and I am not debating about it. My info is still valid, and I'm sure my sources is, just wanted to clarify this! Much love! I did get some info from other Tumblr users, I made this way back, I still update it, I dont own any of this information.

sources - https://twelfthremedy.tumblr.com/post/621849449656942592/hermes-offerings/amp

Wikipedia. “Agetor.” Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia. Wikipedia, 10 Nov. 2010. Web. 12 May 2011. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Agetor.

Burkert, Walter. “The Gods.” Greek Religion. Basil Blackwell and Harvard UP, 1985. 156-59. Print.

The original book was published in Germany as Griechische Religion der archaischen und klassischen Epoche. by Verlag W. Kohlhammer, Stuttgart, copyright year 1977

1b) Atsma, Aaron J. “ESTATE, ATTRIBUTES & ATTENDANTS OF HERMES : Greek Mythology.” THEOI GREEK MYTHOLOGY, Exploring Mythology & the Greek Gods in Classical Literature & Art. 2000. Web. 13 Apr. 2011. http://www.theoi.com/Olympios/HermesTreasures.html, Wikipedia. “Agonius.” Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia. Wikipedia, 10 Nov. 2010. Web. 12 May 2011. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Agonius, Wikipedia. “Agoraea.” Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia. Wikipedia, 26 June 2010. Web. 12 May 2011. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Agoraeus, Wikipedia. “Chthonius.” Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia. Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia, 20 June 2011. Web. 26 June 2011. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chthonius,Wikipedia. “Hermes Trismegistus.” Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia. Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia, 9 June 2011. Web. 26 June 2011. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hermes_Trismegistus., “Kriophoros.” Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia. Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia, 11 June 2011. Web. 26 June 2011. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kriophoros, Wikipedia. “Leucus.” Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia. Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia, 13 Feb. 2011. Web. 26 June 2011. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leucus, Atsma, Aaron J. “ESTATE, ATTRIBUTES & ATTENDANTS OF HERMES : Greek Mythology.” THEOI GREEK MYTHOLOGY, Exploring Mythology & the Greek Gods in Classical Literature & Art. 2000. Web. 13 Apr. 2011. http://www.theoi.com/Olympios/HermesTreasures.html, “CYLLENIUS, Greek Mythology Index.” MYTH INDEX, Greek Mythology. Myth Index, 2007. Web. 13 Apr. 2011. http://www.mythindex.com/greek-mythology/C/Cyllenius.html, Sannion. “Wildivine.org – Offeringsto Hermes.” Wildivine.org – Dionysos, Hermes, Nymphs and Pacific Northwest Polytheism. Wildvine.org. Web. 26 June 2011. http://www.wildivine.org/hermes_offerings.htm.1, Sannion. “Wildivine.org – Offerings to Hermes.” Wildivine.org – Dionysos, Hermes, Nymphs and Pacific Northwest Polytheism. Wildvine.org. Web. 12 May, http://www.wildivine.org/hermes_offerings.htm, Sannion. “Wildivine.org – Hermes’epithets.” Wildivine.org – Dionysos, Hermes, Nymphs and Pacific Northwest Polytheism. Wildvine.org. Web. 12 May 2011. http://www.wildivine.org/hermes_epithets.htm.

https://greekpagan.com/category/prayers-2/hermes/

https://journal.uny.ac.id/index.php/diksi/article/download/49223/18693#:~:text=The%20red%20or%20green%20color,one%20of%20the%20Olympic%20gods.

 travelingthief.tumblr.comhttps://www.tumblr.com/themodernwitchsguide

I use resources, I do not own the info, and most deep dives have UPG (that I use in my work.) And I only take some information from sources. I am 14, this is my hobby, I am learning but I spent many hours and days on this, and I am always open to criticism. I have been doing worship for 5 years. Please know you can use the info, I do not sue, but I will take action if this work is used without permission and not put as a resource if used in any work. without permisson and not put as a resource if used in any work, for the public.

[gabessquishytum]

A very self-indulgent ask here. Hob, having needed to start a new life, decides to take it easy from the fast pace of the city and buys a section of land to start a little farm! Most things come back easy to him - so many years living off the land, one way or another, doesn't go away quickly.

He's patching up the old farmhouse, painting board, hammering nails, breaking a sweat through it all. He starts tilling soil and planting seeds in the smaller back garden - mostly herbs to start with. He plans to ask one of the neighbors for help with the old farm equipment that was left over by the old owner. Even in here, things have changed so much! There's so many new machines and tools! Hob honestly thought it would feel like sliding into an old well worn pair of boots (and in many ways, it still is) but it's still new and fantastical.

He gets some chickens, which makes him realize how much he missed having chickens (and fresh eggs!). He enjoys the toil, the strain of muscle that a life like this provides. He enjoys the sweat on his brow and the easy rest his finds after a long day.

Then Dream comes to him, freshly retired and still wobbly on his newly human legs. So Hob coaxes him inside his home and gives him the care he needs. And slowly, Dream takes to this new human life of his.

So Hob teaches him how life used to be (and how it still is for many). Dream finds he especially likes feeding the chickens and watching them run around, pecking away. His eyes go wide the first time he sees a week old chick moving around. He names her Jessamy. She's his favorite.

Hob tells Dream to "go wild" in the house, and Hob enjoys watching how the fantastical mural progresses on the kitchen walls. Swirling colors and scenes only possible in dreams are revealed on the old walls. Hob smiles as he hands Dream a glass of freshly made lemonade and can't help but think how perfect he looks here in the light of the setting sun with stripes of blue and purple on his cheek.

Hob figures out how the old tractor works and how to attach the tiller and the direct drill with the help of their neighbors (a friendly group - the couple down the road brought them fresh milk). They get the first field tilled and sewn with winter wheat just in time for the cold. Hob takes a picture of Dream up in the tractor, looking wildly out of place in black skinny jeans and his silk top. Dream flips him off and Hob just laughs. Dream finds he quite enjoys that sound.

Winter comes and the daily chores slow (not stop, but slow) and Dream finds himself indulging in arts even more. Hob picks up some soft yarn and hooks when they're in town and the pair of them work on learning to crochet. Dream hates his first piece - a classic granny square - but by the time the holidays approach, he's made both him and Hob well-made scarves. Hob wears his every time he goes outside. It makes Dream smile.

Spring comes and with it, so does a bustling time of planting and planning. They work in tandem, prepping fields, buying seeds and fertilizer, caring for the chickens. They start renovating the old barn for either cows or sheep - they haven't decided yet.

Dream finds he quite enjoys the look of Hob in the midst of work. The sweat on his brow, the arch of his back and the tensing of muscles under his sweat soaked shirt all make for a very appealing image. If he takes out his sketchbook and works on capturing the moment, Hob doesn't comment on the sudden loss of extra helping hands.

It comes to a head on a perfectly average Tuesday when Hob's in the kitchen, kneading dough for bread for the week. It's early still. The sun has just started to peak over the horizon, their roosters just starting to crow - Jessamy from the sounds of it (and yes, so much for thinking she was a hen). Hob hears the padding of footsteps on the cool hardwood floors when a head rests against his back. He chuckles, telling Dream good morning and says he's up early.

Dream just grumbles in reply, a pair of hands rest hesitantly on Hob's sides. Hob continues, letting Dream soak up his natural warmth as he slowly wakes. The loafs will need to be formed still once the first proof is done, so for now, he places a towel over the top of the large bowl and pushes it up to the wall.

Hob turns in Dream's gentle hold and lets his body rest against the edge of the counter. Dream huddles closer, sighing as Hob wraps his arm around him. Dream looks up, this close, their noses are just hairs away from touching. Neither say anything, but both just know as they close the distance, it was how it was supposed to be. Here, in this house they each rebuilt with their own hands, on the land they tended to and cared for, they find love within each other.

This is sooooo lovely. I am very very into the idea of Hob going back to the land and starting a little farm. And how good it would be for Dream to create a whole new realm in the waking world. A sanctuary where he can live in harmony with all the living things around him. The food is home grown and home cooked, the bed is a little lumpy but perfect after a day of hard graft. Life revolves around the act of tending and of creating. It's not too far away from what Dream is used to, but it's all so totally different as well. It's new, but it feels safe.

Hob didn't realise it, but he also really needed this. The modern world is loud and bright, and if he's honest he's been craving the quiet and the stars and the solitude for a while. Solitude with Dream is even better. Sitting on the front step cuddling their chickens, talking about how the crops used to be in the old days before the fields were enclosed. Dream draws patterns in the dust with his finger. Life is quiet. Life is good. When the stars start to come out, they'll put the chickens to bed and then clatter up to their own room, to cuddle up under the patchwork quilt that Dream worked tirelessly to make as a gift for Hob. Tomorrow is a new day to shape together. The fact that Dream is looking forward to it? That means more than he can ever say in words.

[avikard]

EQUESTRIA GIRLS HAVE ALWAYS STRUCK ME AS TERRIBLY UNDESIGNED FROM A DESIGN STANDPOINT and i want to show you how I tried to fix it for my own amusement

(they are arranged by height from high to low)

Fluttershy, my sweet girl, has always seemed to me to have been left out by the authors in the question of what kind of clothes she might like to wear to include in the design. what the hell are tall boots? what the hell are open tops? no no no no no, that's not good. i think such a modest, but strong schoolgirl would go for a discreet set of clothes - light skinny jeans, ballet flats, a plain white shirt (after all, we are in an educational institution here!) and the crown of the outfit - a knitted cardigan with butterflies, referring both to her cutiemark and to the soft warm-loving vibe. she has a fairly light shade of both hair and fur, so she's a light colored girl with blonde long curls and turquoise eyes.

Applejack sometimes undeservedly makes her too inexpressive in terms of muscles, which suits her very well, but sometimes they move too far away from the “femininity” in her face and body (according to my personal preference), which is why she ceases to be read as exactly that character, which we see in games. so i tried to convey the harmony of her beautiful strong body and “femininity”. the only character that the original design boots look good on is the cool country thing (as do wide-leg jeans, a cute two-tone shirt and a RED KERCHIEF WITH RED BOWTS). her earrings reference a cutiemark! i removed the hat because, although it is an Apple feature, it looks out of place as part of a school outfit. let's assume she wears it when not in class. she is a strong girl with simple features, but with gorgeous blonde curls… tanned, freckled, with beautiful green eyes. exactly the way i read her original pony version.

Rarity is simply a beauty, an irresistible lady. she was probably the least in need of correction in my eyes (not counting the damn boots, my God, they were so out of place). her jewelry is a pretty obvious cutie mark reference, and her skirt is a different style to highlight her hips. a plain blouse turned into a luxurious jumper (?) with a chic neckline. dark nylon tights, elegant shoes - everything to look the most chic and stylish in school. I think this look suits her terribly. she is a very fair (most likely she takes great care of her skin in this regard) girl with brown hair and charming blue eyes. all this in her is diluted by a cute gap between her front teeth, which she is proud of.

Rainbow Dash for me will always be a schoolgirl with not the most expressive muscles, but with unreal strength! that's why she doesn't have as muscular a body as Applejack, but everything else about her says, no, SCREAMES that she's a first-class runner and certainly not a weakling! she has a light tracksuit, cool sneakers, a cool jacket, cool eyebrow piercings, cool ear piercings, a cool scar on her leg, cool colored hair (slightly grown out), generally everything is cool. she has wheat hair and light brown eyes. if Rarity is the most beautiful and fashionable girl in school, then she is the coolest and she knows it.

Twilight is a diligent, nerdy student who i associate with magicians (those with cool frilly shirts and huge hats), which i wanted to reflect in her image. so she's in a rather old-fashioned, but interesting way - a knee-length plaid school skirt, a shirt with puffy sleeves and a big bow, asian school shoes. yes, yes, yes, she is asian with the typical skin tone and straight black hair. i love how Twilight’s character fits perfectly with the image of an asian student, accustomed to studying for something more in the future, well-read and erudite.

Pinky is simply a wonderful girl with a bright image to match her character. instead of the typical skirts and blouses, i tried on a denim sundress and sneakers with large knee socks, as well as a huge pile of jewelry: friendship baubles, earrings, pendants, more baubles, hairpins, badges - a chaotic image, like Pinky herself. her natural hair color is red, so she's a blue-eyed curly redhead, which just suits her!!!!

the designs of the princesses in Equestria Girls struck me as so tasteless in their entirety even more than the designs of the mane six. they had to be remade very radically, so they are more of a bonus! further there will be more headcanons along with comments directly about the designs.

Celestia is a cool, elegant, wise principal (that’s what the students think of her, Luna doesn’t think so) and her image emphasizes this. the headmistress doesn’t belong with colored hair, so i interpreted her mane as a beautiful neck scarf to go with her crimson suit. a golden brooch in the shape of a sun, a golden watch, a golden hairpin in the shape of a laurel - this is all about her status and services to the school. she has wheat hair and purple eyes - an extremely rare phenomenon, but it does occur in real life. she works to organize student learning experiences, field trips to museums, and more hands-on learning opportunities. although she really does a lot for the school, many do not notice how much rests on the shoulders of the vice-principal, standing somewhere behind Celestia at all events…

Luna is the vice-principal of the school, whose merits are often belittled. she always bears all the bureaucratic part of the work, she is engaged in a bunch of duties that require a long time of reading and double-checking documents, drawing up reports and working with other papers. most often she sits in her office and is often the last one to leave school. she is not Celestia’s sister, but they have known each other for so long that it’s like they really are sisters (there are legends around the school about whether they are related or not). she has a silver brooch in the shape of a month and a laurel hairpin similar to Celestia's. she has thick, dark, curly hair and a streak of gray hair from her temple, caused by stress at work, and blue eyes. no matter what, she sincerely loves her students and tries to organize their time at school besides studying (clubs, events and movie nights are all her initiatives).

THANK YOU FOR READING, i hope you enjoyed diving into my vision of it all!!

BONUS FOR THOSE WHO READ, my designs of Applejack and Pinkie to the cover of the "Gypsy Bard" from Friendship is Witchcraft on youtube!!

[greetingfromthedead]

1. Beached

Series: Mermaid!AU Depth of Despair

Series Plot: Vash is a former sailor who, despite the call of the ocean, is stranded on land. You are a mermaid, a member of a race in hiding who has become nothing more than folklore and fantasy. You were the one who saved Vash from certain death years ago and ever since that, you are being called closer and closer to the shore. Getting wrapped up with each other is asking for trouble and for your secrets to be dragged into the sunlight.

Pairing: Vash x GN!Reader

Series Rating: PG-13

Series Tags: no use of "y/n", dark fantasy, magic, legends, folklore, mermaids, merfolk, magic, necromancy, shape-shifting, myths, fluff, forbidden romance, hurt / comfort, mermaid reader, Vash dresses like a pirate

Word count: 2k

Author's Note: I've had thoughts of mermaids since May, but now I got some creepy ideas that simply demanded to be written down. It seems that it ends up being a mini-series and I hope yall enjoy it as much as I do.

You're at the beginning | Next Chapter →

Vash walks along the beaten path leading to the edge of the cliff. The long grass sways with the strong sea breeze, brushing against his leathery pants and getting caught in the buckles of his knee high boots. He reaches the edge and gazes out at the vast expanse of ocean below. He has sailed these waters for many years, earning his living as a sailor. The salt in the air stirs up memories of a capsizing ship, and the tiny droplets of water hitting his face from the rough, crashing waves could be mistaken for blood that sprayed from his wounds. He shudders at the thought. He has left that life behind, but the sea always calls him back. By all accounts, he should have died that day with the rest of his crew, but by some miracle, he washed up at the shore and lived on to tell the cautionary tale of how he narrowly escaped the wrath of the ocean and now has to live with the guilt that comes with it. His body is still covered in jagged scars from the ordeal, and the loss of his left arm has made it hard to find a way back to his old life again.

His eyes trail along the shore he grew up on; he sees the sharp rocks reaching out of the water towards the sky, the shallow beaches where children go to collect seashells, and the lighthouse that always guided his way back home. The foamy waves roll into the bay, their white tops like rabbits skipping their way towards the land. It is a brilliant day with a bright blue sky and tall, pillowy clouds. He enjoys the gentle caress of sunlight on his rough skin as an unusual movement by a rock, not too far from the beach, catches his eye. He focuses in on the strange sight, trying to make out what it is, but there is nothing of note. He waits for a little bit longer, but eventually decides to continue his walk along the cliff. A shade of yellowy green keeps flickering in his mind—the color of kelp. He can't shake off the feeling that something was there in the water, lurking just beneath the surface.

He almost saw you. It's a terrifying feeling to be nearly discovered. Your usually cold body feels cooler still, like your blood has turned into ice water. You press your back against the rock and hope the rough waves are enough to hide you from view. You had stared at the handsome man for too long, getting lost in the familiar shape of his silhouette and in the golden glow of his hair that's the same shade as the ripe wheat fields you've admired from afar.

You aren't allowed to be here. Your kind is warned about the danger of coming too close to the shore. Nowhere is safe for someone like you except the dark depths of the ocean. So many lectures of caution have been drilled into your head about humans and their viciousness. It's not like you aren't afraid of them, but curiosity keeps you wandering closer and closer. The world looks so different above the surface: the blue sky, the pale sand, the red poppies, and even the white sea foam only show up on the other side of the waves. It's like a whole other world up there. But in all honesty, it's an excuse to go to the shore where you dragged a dying seaman to some years ago. You've hoped he survived, but until now, you never knew if he really did.

Your racing heart skips a few beats with the relief of seeing that man alive and well, standing at the edge of the cliff, surrounded by rippling grass that looks a lot like the surface of the water. You thought this would give you rest, but now all you want is to steal another glance. You turn around and stick your head out of the water. You feel your gills closing at the brush of air against your skin. Your hair and the algae in it stick heavily to your body, as you creep around the large rock to get a better view. You hold on to the rough surface; your nails no longer the sharp talons they are in the water, and the webs between your fingers disappear too. You keep looking in the direction you last saw the sailor, but he is nowhere to be found.

You should have listened. You should have been satisfied with seeing him alive and returned to the depths. Greed is a sin that always leads to consequences. You kept coming back, and you kept seeing him on the beach and on that cliff. You followed him along the shoreline to the port; you weaved between the supports of the pier as you listened to his footsteps. You kept getting closer, and you found that you had only eyes for him. That's why you didn't see the fishnet strung across the bay until it was too late, and you got caught in it. The more you struggle, the tighter it wraps around your body. The sharp rock you picked up from the seabed is no match for the ropes, either. You keep trying to peel it off yourself, unhooking it from the scales on your skin, but it only gets stuck on something new each time. You don't want to rip your fins as you fight against the relentless grip of the death trap, so you don't even notice as the current carries you towards the shallows of the beach.

Fear grips you tighter than the net ever could as you realize you've gotten entirely stuck. You can feel panic rising in your chest as you struggle to break free, your carefulness gone with the wind. You find it hard to move with half your body out of the water, your arms strung to your body with the cords that have wrapped themselves in driftwood and debris, anchoring you in place as sunrise starts to creep over the cliff. The salty air stings your lungs as you struggle to break free, and you feel so tired. You whimper and growl in anguish as the realization sets in that you will most likely die here alone and trapped, but you refuse to give up. You don't hear the running steps on the wet sand on the beach; you only freeze up once the boots hit water, sending droplets flying everywhere and making no attempt to be quiet as they wade through knee high saltwater toward you.

"Hey! Are you alright?" A worried voice calls out, and you look over your shoulder to see the beautiful blonde man approach you in a hurry. He appears to be out of breath, concern etched across his face. You pull an arm free, no longer careful of the long fin reaching beyond your elbow. You manage to grab an old, soaked branch and wave it in front of you while hissing a warning at the man.

"Careful! You're bleeding!" He continues, his hands up in the air.

His eyes move away from the branch, traveling along your body and widening as he takes in the sight before him. He stands there with a strange look, somewhere between disbelief and awe. He just stares, making no attempt to come closer or move away, so you keep your makeshift weapon pointed at him while trying to wiggle free. After what feels like an eternity, he finally seems to come back to reality and shifts his gaze back to your face.

"Let me help you," he says with a calming voice. "I am not here to hurt you."

His tone sounds genuine, but you know better than to trust the words of a human. You try to push away from him, back towards the open sea, but you are so thoroughly stuck that you can barely move at all. The panic only sinks in deeper as you see him pulling a knife from his belt. You thrash against your restraints, sending water flying in all directions as you desperately try to escape.

"Please stop! You'll hurt yourself further!" He says pleadingly, "I'll back away. See?"

You see him walking backwards, putting a bit more distance between the two of you, but your eyes are still drawn to the gleaming blade in his hand. You don't understand why he hesitates. Humans are supposed to be ruthless and cruel. From all the stories you have heard, he should have jumped you the moment he saw you, pinned you down, and slashed your throat without a second thought. You are at a hopeless disadvantage, yet he doesn't grasp at the golden opportunity before him.

"You are a siren, aren't you?" He asks with a hint of wonder in his voice. Siren, mermaid, nymph, merperson—all names humans have given your kind since before you turned into mere lore and legend. You can see the amazement in his eyes, but you aren't sure if it is from greed or innocent fascination. "I've heard that knowing a person's name gives you power over them. My name is Vash. Will you trust me to help you now?"

What is this nonsense? You wonder to yourself. There really are outlandish stories about you still floating around even after centuries of being in hiding. But if he really believes in this ridiculous superstition, then maybe you can trust him. He doesn't have to know that it's not his name that you need.

He carefully approaches you again, and you try your best to keep your fear under wraps. He keeps his hands visible at all times, giving you a sense of security. You watch him intensely, your body twitching at every move he makes slightly faster than the one before. He is finally close enough to bow over you; his eyes remain on your face, and you can see the blue hues in them, reminiscent of the sky on a clear day. You breathe heavily, fear tying a knot in your stomach. You can't help but try to wiggle away again as his hand takes hold of the fishing net, pulling it away from you so he can cut through it with his knife. He is mindful of the sharp blade, making precise cuts to free you from the tangled mess without hurting you.

You relax a bit as you feel the net loosen around you, the ropes no longer digging into your flesh. Vash looks so determined and focused as he works away. Your anxiety hasn't left you completely, but you no longer fight against him either. You haven't seen him this close since you pulled him from the wreckage of his ship. He looked more dead than alive on that day, his body covered in wounds and bleeding into the salty water you dragged him through. You never expected to be this close again. Close enough to see the mark at the corner of his eye and the flush of pink on his cheeks.

"There you are." He says with a sad smile, "But you're still bleeding."

You look at your own body again. There are tears in your fins and wounds where the scales have been torn off. You sit up, the fin on your arm disappearing, leaving just a small cut on your human looking skin. The scales on your body retreat too, where the air brushes over them, leaving behind mostly smooth skin. Your injuries don't look so bad anymore, but they are still there.

"Woah!" You hear the man's amazed exclamation as he watches you, his hand empty, the knife back in its sheath on his hip. You can't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you. You open your mouth to thank him, but you stop yourself before you can speak.

"Can you not talk out of water?" Vash wonders aloud, and you just nod, deciding to let him believe that lie. You are exhausted, and you try to keep your cards close to your chest to avoid the dangers that come with being this close to a human being.

Your attention is dragged away from Vash by a drunken song echoing from the bay, and fear fills you again.

"It must be the fishermen who put up that net; they're back to check on them." Vash voices the thoughts swirling in your head.

You're at the beginning | Next Chapter →

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[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - The Void - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Jinx, what did you do now?

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

tw: jumpscares, horror

Snippet:

"Faster," Silco says to Sevika

His profile is turned to the window. In the green-tinged reflection, his skin holds a jaundiced pallor. The bruises are blooming full-flower across his cheekbone. The cut, on his temple, is the exact color and shape of a rusted fishhook. The blood has clotted into a dark smear, same as the mess gluing Vi's hair to her brow.

Same as Vi, he’d refused Sevika's offer to tend to the injuries.

"We're going top speed, sir," Sevika says evenly. "Unless you want us to tip the whole thing on its side."

"Do what you must. Just get us there."

"Yes, sir."

The crawler slaloms a corner. The interior sways on its axles. But whatever else, Sevika is an efficient driver.  She takes the next bend like a knife slicing through butter. Zaun's tunnels, an intricate network of intersections, branch-offs, and switchbacks, seem as straightforward to her as a flat plain.

As the crawler speeds toward Entresol, the cityscape unrolls: the craggy outcroppings of cliffs and a ramshackle gridwork of industrial complexes.  There are narrow swathes of Zaun still luminous with neon. Others show dark patches, where the power has fritzed out. Smoke rises in a dozen spots, curling like ghost-fingers toward the sky. 

A diffuse blue haze floats like a halo above the rooftops. Here and there, Vi sees what Sevika was referring to: clusters of translucent blue specks dappling the gloom. Some as tiny as bubbles in a champagne glass, others the size of balloons. They float in midair, bobbing on an invisible current. Their edges shimmer like the afterglow of a flame.

Ghosts, Vi thinks again.

A childish terror squeezes the ventricles of her heart. Her eyes cannot peel away. They follow them, those little blue shapes, as they pirouette and pinwheel. She has the strangest sense that they can feel her scrutiny. That they are... teasing her.

Daring her to unroll the window, and reach out for them.

As she watches, a small clutch of them shape themselves into a playful O, rolling side to side like a pair of eyes. Then, in a flurry of winking sparks, they coalesce into two straight rows at intersecting angles: X marks the spot. The shapes become a disorienting repetition—XOXOXO—until Vi's head churns with vertigo.

She's seen that symbol before.

Scribbled in the margins of Jinx's journal. Notched on the maps scattered around the Aerie. Embroidered at the edges of Silco's handkerchief.

Slitting her eyes, Vi catches a sense of silhouettes at the granular margins of the light-show. The faintest impression of human dimensions: familiar, and yet alien, like a memory that isn't her own. Old friends from lives unlived. Lovers she's never met. Strangers whose faces are her own.

Vander.

Stunned, Vi blinks.

He is a hulking shape in the middle of the road, his outline diffused by the glow of headlamps. It is a Vander whom Vi has never known: brown as a bear from a lifetime of sun and soil, and broad as a mountain slope from decades of farm-fed decadence. His hair, the same dark mane, is clustered light-over-dark into the signature wolf-cut. Dressed in well-patched brown trousers and a threadbare cotton tunic, heavy-soled boots shod at his feet, he could be a farmer fresh off the Ionian wheat-fields.

But his face, the warm complexity of lines etched into a grin, is the same from Vi's memory.

The twin circles of the crawler's headlamps coalesce into a spotlight. Vander moves forward. There is no mistaking his gait. The same purposeful stride, shoulders rolling and fists cocked. The same head-tilted swagger of a man accustomed to toeing the scratch, and owning what's on either side. Vi sees his lips stir: words of welcome spoken like an incantation.

Violet.

Blut.

I’m here where you are.

Vi reaches, in a blind fugue, for the door handle.

In the rearview mirror, Silco's eyes snap to hers.

"Don't," he orders.

Vi freezes.

The phantom of Vander is suddenly eclipsed by the glare of the headlamps. His delineations flicker and fade, and in their place is a swirling angry blue, so bright it burns everything it touches: skin, eyes, teeth. Reflexively, Vi throws up an arm, the brightness solidifying into a pair of fists whooshing toward her at phenomenal speed—

Nothing.

The infernal phosphorescence is gone.

Only the crawler. The headlamps. The bare stretch of the empty street.

A hot wetness films Vi's eyes.

"Fuck," she breathes.

Sevika glances sidelong, from Vi to Silco. Twin coals of confusion—and low-key concern—are burning in her dark eyes.

"What?" she asks. "'Don't', what? What'd she do?"

 Vi drags in a spooked breath. "Didn't—didn't you see him?"

"See who?"

"Vander." She makes a frantic stab toward the windshield. "He was right there. He was standing there, just a second ago!"

Sevika's eyes flick back to the road, then reorient on Vi.

"I didn't see jack shit," she says flatly.

"Neither did I," the guard on Vi's left says.

"Me neither," grunts the one on her right.

Quietly, Silco says, "There's nothing to see."

Vi whirls on him. "Bullshit! You saw it, too! He was—"

"He wasn't." Silco half-turns to face her. His good eye is a chip of frozen sea-glass. "It's only a figment. An echo."

"An echo of what?"

"The Void."

The single word sucks the oxygen from the crawler: a deep peristaltic flex, like the darkness itself has gulped.

[tintinwrites]

almost in your arms | Din Djarin x Reader

A/N: I’ve been in such a Din mood!!

Rating: T, it only gets implied spicy

Warning: Reader is gender neutral, no pronouns or specific body parts mentioned! Canon-typical action. Suggestive material. Helmetless!Mando. A bit of angst ok

Word Count: 1,599, apparently!!

Summary: Din enjoys a summer day with you.

GIF Credit: ^^^^

The grass was yellow from its time in the glaring sun with a lack of water, but it was still soft and pliable enough that the light breeze that ran across it could easily bend it out of its way. Trees dotted around the wide, open field were a stark green in contrast, but they, too, had to oblige and let the wind rustle their leaves.

A tiny chorus of birds chirped from a branch nearby, met by a louder, more songlike chirp; a mother, quieting her inexperienced young with mouthfuls of food. Aside from birdsong and rustled plantlife, there wasn’t a sound to be heard.

Din had no reason to be alert, but he was. The nearly wheat like-grass — its resemblance in color and seed could not forgive its, at best, ankle height — was all that could be pictured as far as the eye could see, with a tree here or a resilient smattering of wildflowers there. No one could possibly sneak up on him here. No creature could hide, nor could a human step lightly enough to go unheard.

Yet still, he listened closely and let his gaze roam every inch of the expansive field.

Suddenly he heard the sound of grass being crunched beneath someone’s boot, but he couldn’t fully turn around before there was a grip around his neck and a weight slamming against his back that had him falling forward.

He grunted as he hit the ground, but he was quick enough to fling off his assailant before they could pin him fully, turning onto his back. He grabbed onto an ankle and started to drag the body towards him, but the other foot came to kick him in the crook of his arm and his reflexes demanded that his fingers release their grip.

He made another swipe, but strong legs wrapped around his upper arm and yanked, sending him face first into grass and dirt again. He felt weight crawling over his shoulders and onto his back, hands under his ribs trying to flip him over. He struggled a bit onto his hands and knees and heard a yelp as the weight went tumbling off him.

This time, despite finding himself a bit worn out, he pinned a wrist to the ground to keep his attacker from gathering their bearings and getting up. He used said wrist to flip the person onto their front, twisting an arm behind a back and straddling their hips.

The wriggling in an attempt at freedom nearly made him laugh, but he pressed his lips tightly together.

After a moment the body under him went still and he heard panting of exhaustion.

“You give up?”

No response, too prideful and dignified, but the free hand came up to blindly pat the side of his thigh.

He grinned to himself and released your arm, swinging his leg up to move off of you. He just sat in the grass, supported by his hands behind him, watching as you sat up with a pout and rubbed your arm.

“It’s definitely broken.” You stretched it out and winced.

“It’s just stiff, I barely bent it.” He would never twist your arm far enough to injure you; he’d stop before he even felt any resistance, not wanting to push its mobility. “I go easy on you. A real attacker wouldn’t care if they broke your arm.”

“I’m starting to think you don’t care either.” You didn’t mean it, he knew you were just sad that you still couldn’t best him. He’d been training you here and there for a while and you were obviously a skilled fighter, but he had years of experience.

He relented with a sigh. “Would it help if I told you that you nearly got me a couple times?”

“Yes!” You immediately smiled at him, then your face softened and you moved closer to him, brushing some dirt off his nose.

He leaned into your touch like he always did, like it was the first time he’d felt it as if he hadn’t married you all those months ago where he first felt the gentleness of your fingertips. He couldn’t help it; being touched could never get old when one lived without it for as long as he did.

But you touched him every day because you loved it too. With you, he was safe. He could feel hands on his skin, the sun warming his cheeks, the breeze messing with his hair.

And lips, there on his temple, soft and loving, with your voice murmuring against it teasingly, “I was too rough with you, old man.”

“Only because I let you,” he teased back in that nearly serious tone he’d long perfected.

You sighed dramatically and started to pull away with a fake pout, but he quickly grabbed you back and kissed you fully on the lips. It didn’t take long for you to melt into his chest, it never did.

You shared a few kisses there with nothing between you but clothes. No helmet, no armor, just scraps of cloth because it was just the two of you and no one would come to bother you.

Each kiss became gentler than the last until you both needed to really breathe, and you just sat there halfway in his lap with your arms around his neck, smiling at each other.

“You look cute after I fight you.” A blush would still spread across his cheeks when you complimented his appearance, he was so unused to it.

“I never look cute.” He scowled to save face like you didn’t know him so well now.

“No, really! When you’re all sweaty and your hair’s a mess and you remind me how big and strong you are…” Your gaze had a darkness to it that he’d become familiar with. “It really gets me going.”

“Here?” That blush could be seen from his neck to his ears, and probably lower beneath his clothes.

You shrugged, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “We could go back to the house, but doesn’t it seem so far away?”

He was on you in an instant, pinning you beneath a tree, and he delighted in the laugh that escaped you as you hit the ground. He matched your grin with his own before he met your eyes, slowly leaning in for a kiss.

But something green distracted him and he looked up to see Grogu peeking from behind the tree, letting out a happy coo when he saw his father. “Come on, kid…”

You furrowed your brow before craning your neck to see the little guy and you laughed, sitting up as Din begrudgingly slid off you. “Oh, you little devil! You were napping!” You moved onto your knees and pulled the baby into your lap once he toddled over to you.

The house was hidden perfectly behind one of the trees, so you weren’t too far should he have needed you.

He was too curious about what the two of you were doing to stay put when he woke up from his nap, evidently.

While Din was a little disappointed that you were interrupted, he watched fondly as the little guy that became his son cooed at you, trying to hold a conversation with his unintelligible babbles while you listened intently as if you understood every word.

“Mando?” He lifted his gaze to find you were now staring at him.

“You know you can call me Din now.” He smiled a bit at your strangeness, but it faltered when you just kept staring.

“Mando, wake up.” Your voice sounded close, like you were speaking into his ear. But you were still sitting across from him.

“What?” The hairs on his arms and the back of his neck prickled as everything started to blur around the edges, turning black. He called your name, scrambling to his feet, trying to grab onto you and Grogu as you faded. “Wait!”

“Mando!”

He woke up with a start and found you stumbling with a gasp into the control panel of the ship, staring at him with wide eyes. You were muted through the visor of his helmet, there was no sun or hands on his face…just the pressure of his helmet.

No birds. Just the hum of the ship, where he’d fallen asleep in the cockpit like usual.

“That must have been some nightmare…you almost took me out with your helmet.” You moved back to him now that you weren’t in danger of a concussion, smiling.

“Yeah…nightmare…” he said distantly, realizing that he’d been dreaming and he was still in all his armor and you were just his companion.

“I was just coming to ask how long it’ll be until we get there.”

It took him a moment to fully come back to himself. “Where?”

“To get the quarry…?”

“...right.” He leaned forward to look at the coordinates for a moment. “We’re less than an hour out. We’ll…we’ll find something to eat too.”

“Oh, good. You know, Grogu found some bolt that fell off something and tried to eat it? Part of me thinks he took it off something himself.” You were leaving the cockpit as you told him this with amusement, and he turned to just watch as you disappeared.

The dream felt so real, like he really did allow himself to get closer to you, to let his feelings grow, to marry someone like you, to settle down somewhere quiet and peaceful…but he knew the truth. He knew his fate.

A life like that would only ever be a dream for him.

[cacysayshi]

my piece for @trafficzine!! working on this was amazing, and please check out the zine itself on their blog!

(full work under read more)

"What about... when you reach half an hour, you can kill me?"

-

Scott walked towards the end of the bridge in the distance, trying not to bend too many stalks of wheat. It wouldn't be very nice to ruin another person's primary food source, even if he was about to kill you. (The wheat brushed up against some exposed skin, ticklish and soft like Jimmy used to be.)

Jimmy walked just behind him, moving through the wheat effortlessly in a way that only came with experience. He made it look so easy, fluidly twisting around the stalks in a way that Scott was not thinking way too much about, thank you very much. It's like a dance, he thought. "It's like that scene in..." he said instead.

"Oh, Mario!" Joel said.

Scott blinked. Jimmy snorted. Despite that absolutely awful joke, Scott was a little grateful. The stupidity easily distracted him from his thoughts (which he was still claiming were not excessively of Jimmy. Even with his own adamant denial, Scott was not convincing himself). "No! Of Mice and Men! Like that one! He's taking me out to the barn!"

Jimmy grinned, and Scott struggled to not let his eyes stray again from the wheat (it was the same color as Jimmy's hair). Some part of him wanted to go back to a time when he didn't have to stop himself from staring until Jimmy's face turned pink and he had to turn away, flustered. Some part of him wanted to go back to a time when Jimmy wouldn't just not ask for Scott's death, he'd refuse it when offered unless Scott begged him.

Then Jimmy spoke. "I'm taking him out to the barn. Yeah. Look at the flowers."

Scott trailed his hands over the top of the wheat, a movement too delicate for what was about to come. The wheat wasn't nearly as soft as the poppy he'd tucked behind Jimmy's ear oh so long ago, nor the grass they'd laid on and talked until the sun went down and they simply stargazed, content in each other's company.

"No, wait, look at the rabbits. That was it."

Scott felt like flowers would be more appropriate, Jimmy finally acknowledging what had happened between them. He didn't know whether to be relieved that Jimmy was so clearly moved on (a salve on the wound that was Third Life) or hurt that he thought it was nothing (a knife twisted straight back in). "Wow," Scott said, pushing down his thoughts and playing along. "Look at the rabbits."

The two of them walked on in a thick silence that Scott was desperate to break. He stayed quiet, though; Jimmy had put up a wall that didn't make "comfortably existing in each other's company" an easy feat to accomplish. That caused Scott more pain than he'd ever admit.

They slowed as they reached the platform where Scott knew would be killed. He went straight to the edge, then slipped off his boots to put them in his inventory. No use breaking them when he fell and wasting a perfectly good pair of boots. He looked over the edge, at the dizzying drop and the ground far below, then turned to face Jimmy.

Hesitation creased Jimmy's brow, something Scott never would have noticed if he hadn't spent weeks taking in every aspect of Jimmy he could (Scott could probably truthfully claim he knew more about Jimmy than the man himself, but he also wasn't looking to describe everywhere Jimmy had freckles). Jimmy swallowed, grip on his crossbow loose, and asked "Are you sure about this?", voice unsure with something unidentifiable softening the edges. Scott wanted to throw up, insides twisting themselves to cause him the most discomfort they possibly could.

Scott ignored it, and nodded. "Yup. Even though you didn't say 'love you', I'll still accept it." He tried to lessen the bite to his sour tone, but then again, he was known for being petty.

He stood at the edge of the dirt, watching as Jimmy raised his crossbow, grip no longer shaky, and pointed it directly below Scott's ribs.

He didn't know what to feel anymore.

Should he smile, be happy that his death would allow Jimmy to survive for just a little longer?

(It was only a half-hour, after all.)

Should he glare and frown, bitter that his time was being wasted on the canary in the coal mine?

(It wasn't wasted, never wasted, not when it came to Jimmy.)

Should he be nostalgic for the times they had together that Jimmy refused to acknowledge now?

(Did Jimmy forget? Was he afraid of what had happened between them?)

Scott didn't quite know what he felt for the man in front of him. It was sideways to the love he'd given before, upside-down to any sort of hatred that the red in his eyes dictated he must feel, to the left of anything that could be mistaken for friendship.

He had no choice, really, but to let the emotions he couldn't identify swirl around in his gut. It was kind of like a smoothie, individual feelings taken and forced into one, every individual sentiment indistinguishable from the others.

Then Jimmy said "Appreciate that," and his arrow pierced straight through to Scott's back. Pain flooded his senses, and he pitched over the edge of the bridge.

It was a long fall. Two arrows cut through the air as he fell, whistling as they both missed him. If his head wasn't filled with the rushing of wind and his body wasn't focused on the horrendous sensation of having an arrow through his insides he would've had enough strength to think a bit more as his body rapidly approached the ground.

As it was, Scott was too close to death to have the ability to untangle the emotions that had knotted themselves together so tight he couldn't tell what was what.

The complicated mess of feelings bled out with his consciousness, and by the time Scott hit the ground he didn't have anything left to feel.

[dance-like-an-idiot]

imagine, if only for a moment. joel and jimmy. they meet up and they click. like glue, like lego bricks with their spotty colors, and like old friends that have seen each other before again and again. their timers tick and they ignore the flames that consume them as the realize they died together.

then they live together.

imagine once again grian joins these ragtag self proclaimed "bad boys" and fits just as well. though not as well as jimmy and joel first did, their bond stronger than ever, jimmy feels a pull towards grian in some unexplainable way that he has many times tried to put into words.

he somehow felt it would be easier explained if they Listened.

now imagine a day has passed and grian fits in so much better than they thought, the stitching they needed like a patch on leather jackets and aviators to boot. they laugh and they build what they all agree on is the most ugly thing created but it helps joels plague. one which they vow to help him with. they build the bread bridge on bad boys manor.

and somehow, they're proud of the blood sweat and wheat.

imagine these three bound to each others side through every murder and kill they get. they find themselves with no allies and a metallic taste in their mouth as they grit their teeth and get by. they may not have allies but they have each other.

death holds a string of desires over their heads as they reach and reach.

imagine the first death comes in their bridge. their mourning period starts as they give in and realize that they can't save their bridge and in some twisted turn of events they all feel genuinely sad over it. they spent an ungodly amount of time on it, and while it may not be much more than an eyesore by the end of it it was theres.

but the memories last longer than what was lost.

keep on and imagine their plan of recovery, it comes from the sky with a carrot cake, a loaf of bread, and a submarine sandwich. the sky is safer and they crave safer. although not pretty its theirs and they capitalize. the grip of death urges them forward and they stretch the base as far as their eyes can manage until they run out of blocks

it reminds them of what they had lost.

and imagine the three keep together. they love each other and they care for each other. the time ticks down and again. it feels like they can never possibly get out of their pit of red. hot and angering but the time keeps ticking. their minds keep ticking.

they see the fear on each other, like moldy bread.

and imagine jimmy falls one too close to out and they huddle around him like guards, they can't lose each other so they go hunting. hunts lead to death. and death leads to reminders. reminders of what was lost, what they could have had, and reminders of how far they had come.

jimmy had died on skynet 2. their relapse in memory. the one memory they couldn't get back

imagine now, joel gets scared. too frightened to think of anything other than jimmy and grian. he can barely feel any remains of morals as he bounds around looking for any easy kill to save grian. he fears for his death. and he fears for grian. he knows its his time. he doesn't want it to be. but he already took from grian. and he doesn't want another thing to be taken from him.

he dies on the remains of bread bridge with grian just out of his sight. forever in his mind.

the world goes still as the thunder strikes and takes salvation away. the water trickles and falls and he sees joels blood seep into the water. grian sees his own tears join with the heart of jimmy still in the blocks around him. he sees his friends and the only people he would give the world to die. too soon. far too soon. he sobs and he cries and he cant think. he can only mourn because thats what they did together. and thats what he'll do alone.

[spiralling-thoughts]

District 9 fashion

I headcanon that district 9 has adopted aspects of Arabian culture and so they wear jalabiat and cover their heads ( I am an Arab and the idea of my culture surviving and flourishing even at the face of apacolipse and cruelty mean so much to me) , it's also a requirement to wear a headdress to protect the wearer from the Sun so straw hats and caps are important and to wear long sleeves from light materials , people in 9 also love to dress in colors and shades of yellow and blue and green and orange are the most common , those who join the grainery processing factories are given all yellow or denim jumpsuit or uniform and of course overalls and farming boots are also very common, due to the district poverty they have simpler fabrics but the wealther section often wear vestes and button ups there also is floral and wheat and other grains patterns that are added to their clothes and they tend to like polka dot patterns , the clothes there are often light and comfortable as best as they can

Thanks @boabel for inspiring me to do this

[hecatemoon87]

This story will eventually have smut. Minors DNI.

Chapter 6

Johnny idly smoked a cigarette on his front porch as he looked out on his lawn. He owned a ranch style home on the outskirts of Chicago. It was his own little island of peace, and at the moment, he was decompressing from a long haul job he had just returned from.

It was the onset of autumn, so the green of his yard was turning into the color of wheat. He was tired, but his mind drifted towards how his biker gang was doing.

As if on que, Benny and some other members of his biker club pulled up to the house.

Benny jumped off his bike and made his way towards the porch. The others walked over to a few lawn chairs nearby. They had a six-pack and cracked some beers open. One guy tossed a beer to Benny, who in turned offered it to Johhny.

Johnny took the beer and pulled the tab off. He took a long drink and sighed.

"That was a pretty long haul this time," Benny said.

"Yeah, but I pulled in a couple grand, so not too bad," Johnny said.

"Not bad at all," Benny said.

"How's your girl," Johhny asked, flicking his cigarette.

"She's fine. She's visiting her mom for a few days," Benny said, taking another drink of beer. "What about yours? You still trying to date that Italian girl? She seems a bit stiff if you ask me."

"Well, ain't nobody asking you, are they?" Johnny said, bristling.

Benny held up a hand and shook his head, "Sorry, Johnny. You know, I don't mean any disrespect."

"I know, I'm just tired," Johnny said, finishing off his beer. As he crushed it under his boot, he watched as Amelia's little sedan pulled up in front of his house.

"Hey, is that her?" Benny said, squinting into the setting sun.

"Yeah," Johnny said, surprised. He had left her a message, telling her he had returned home. He hadn’t expected to see her tonight.

She got out of her car and stepped up onto the porch. "Hey, John. I'm sorry, I didn't think you'd have any visitors," she said, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. She was wearing a long, gray pea coat.

Johnny came over, pulled her into a hug, and kissed her cheek. "I'm glad you came. The boys were just leaving," Johnny said, giving Benny a nod to get the hell out of there.

"I thought you said you were tired?" Benny said, chuckling as he stepped off the porch and waved his hand to the others, signaling them to go.

Johnny ignored Benny and guided Amelia inside. "Do you want a drink?" He asked.

She shook her head as she walked inside. Once the door was closed, she removed her coat, revealing a tasteful green dress, but it was certainly meant to be alluring as well.

Johnny almost groaned aloud. She looked so good, and he wanted badly to walk over and kiss her. Instead, he took her coat and placed it on a hanger in a closet.

"How did the job go? I bet you're really tired," she said.

"It was long but worth it in the end. I'm good, glad you came," he said, a little confused on why she was there.

She nodded and turned to sit on his couch. He followed suit and sat next to her. As he sat down, a muscle in his neck strained causing him to hiss. He brought his hand up to rub it.

"Do you need a massage?" She asked, turning a little toward him.

"Nah, I'm fine," he said, but she surprised him again by moving behind him, making him move forward for her to access his neck. Her dainty hands applied pressure slowly, rubbing his aching muscles in a relieving way.

He grunted and closed his eyes, enjoying both her presence and touch. He then felt her lips connect with his neck, her soft kisses giving him a start. He began to feel the blood rush to his manhood.

"Amelia," he started to say, but her hands reached around, gently gripping his pecks, her little kitten kisses turning into nips upon his neck. Then she whispered, "Is this...is it okay?"

Her voice was small but eager. He managed to say, "Yeah, Princess, more than okay. Do you want to stay here or go to the bedroom?"

She hesitated for a moment but said, "Bedroom."

He stood up and turned to take her by the hand. Her cheeks were slightly pink, and she kept her eyes down, but she took his hand.

They made their way to his bedroom, and he watched as she sat on the end of the bed. He sat next to her, placing his hand on her waist and kissed her.

She brought up her hand to his face, kissing him back, their tongues entangled, Amelia emitting soft moans. She then pulled him back onto the bed, but Johnny laid beside her instead of settling in between her legs.

Her hand drifted from his cheek to his chest, their kissing slow but passionate. Johnny kept his hand on her waist, not wanting to startle her in any way. But, god, he wanted to slip himself inside her little flower.

Amelia gave him one more kiss, then stood up. Johnny watched her silently as she removed her dress, letting it pool around her feet after it fell. She wore lavender colored bra and panties. He already knew she had a voluptuous figure, but now he was able to see her bare curves and a pang of desire filled Johnny's loins.

He noticed her hands covered a spot on her left side. She once again cast her eyes down, almost in shame.

"Hey, what's the matter, Princess?" Johnny said, getting up from the bed and hooking a finger under her chin. He looked into her eyes, which were wet with tears.

"Um, well, it's...it's because of this..." She said, moving her hands away from her side. Johnny could see a light red, though pronounced scar. It was about five inches in length and about 1/8 inch wide.

"That?" Johnny said, pulling her in and gently tracing the scar with his fingertips as he looked her deep in her eyes. "That's nothing, you're gorgeous, baby girl." And he kissed her, but she moved her head away. She stayed in his arms, though.

"It's not that...well, a little. Look, what I'd like to explain is that I've been standoffish because of how it happened. A man, my mother wanted me to date, he demanded sex on our third date, but I said no. He...he got mad and broke a bottle and, um, struck me here," she said.

Johnny's face darkened with anger. He was really fed up with her bitch of a mother. And now he planned to find this man and make him pay.

"Princess, I would never hurt you. Do you understand? If you want to stop right here, let's just talk, hmmm?" He said.

"No, I want you. I'm sure of that. I'm just... okay, I'm nervous because I'm a virgin. That incident happened when I was twenty-five. It scared me away from men, so I focused on my career," she said, blushing again.

Johnny kept his expression calm and understanding, but inside, he almost combusted. He hated to admit it, but her being a sweet young woman, plus being a virgin, made him almost orgasm right there. He swallowed hard and told himself to get a grip.

"Yeah? So, uh...you want me to be your first?" He said, his heart now pounding in his chest, his cock stiffening, but he was trying to keep his erection down so not to intimidate her.

"Yes," she said, sounding confident in her choice. But then said, "just...be gentle? Please?"

"Don't you worry about that. Like I said, I'd never hurt you," he said, kissing her lightly on the lips. She nodded and made her way to the bed, making herself comfortable in the middle. Johnny admired her from the end of the bed.

He proceeded to remove his shirt, revealing his impressive physique. He could tell she liked what she saw, nibbling on her bottom lip, eyes heavy with lust.

He slowly unbuckled his belt, removing his pants but leaving his underwear on. His bulge was visible now. He could no longer stave off his erection.

Carefully, he joined her in bed, resting at her side. They kissed, and Johnny traced his hand over her curves.

"Wanna lay on your back? I'm gonna get you nice and wet, alright?" Johnny said, in between kisses.

"Huh?" She said naively, but moved to rest on her back.

Johnny frowned a little but chuckled and said, "You know how sex works, right?"

She playfully slapped his shoulder. "Yes, I'm aware of how it works...I just might not know all the, um, particulars."

"Particulars?" Johnny said, laughing a little. He was enjoying her naivety. It was cute. He looked forward to watching her come undone for him.

"You know what I mean," she said.

"Hmm, I do," he said, snaking his fingers over her panty-covered mound, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from her. She gripped the bed sheet tight, looking at him with a furrowed brow. "That was...that was, um, nice," she said.

"Yeah, that was. Let's try this," he said, gently pushing her panties down and tracing the outline of her slit. Amelia moaned, closing her eyes and opening her legs a little wider. Johnny took that to mean she wanted more, his index finger moving between her folds, applying pressure to her clit, then moving in a circular motion over her nub.

"Johnny," she whispered moaned.

"I thought it was John?" He said, grinning. She blinked and giggled a little. "I think I like Johhny better now," she said. He smiled, then glided a thick finger into her opening.

She whimpered, looking into his eyes like a precious little mess. He softly opened her cunny up, thrusting in and out with care. Then gliding his finger up with the use of her honey, spreading it over her sensitive clit.

Amelia arched her back, breathing in shallow breaths. She was close and she didn't even know it. Johnny kissed her neck and slid his finger up her pussy again, then gave her clit full attention.

She was gushing over his fingers. Johnny moved her bra strap off her shoulder with his teeth. Then, she pushed down her again using his teeth, revealing a bare nipple and giving it a wet, tongue suckle.

This broke her, and she moaned, "Oh, Johnny, yes...."

She wasn't a loud moaner. It was all soft and sensual and deep, having Johnny carve her more.

She rotated her hips a little, allowing Johnny's fingers to provide her friction. When she came down, she turned her head and looked at Johnny. "Am I wet enough?"

Johnny felt his cock throb, on the border of uncomfortable. He needed her, but his mind forced his body back under control.

"You are," he said, kissing her nose. "Can I?" He said, moving to get between her legs. She answered by pulling him over on top of her.

He pulled his underwear off, releasing his erection. Amelia looked down at him, a look of anxiety on her face. "Will it hurt?"

"I'm not going to lie, it will a little. But you'll adjust around me," he said, stroking her outer thighs comfortingly.

"Okay, I'm ready," she said, and he aligned himself with her moist hole. Johnny closed his eyes, his eyes practically rolling back as the sensation of her pussy swallowing him.

Amelia inhaled sharply as his girth divided her walls. "Relax, take a breath, Princess, I promise it will feel better in a few minutes. I'll go nice and slow," he said, opening his eyes and assuring her.

Her hands rested on his firm shoulders, and she nodded. "Okay, I trust you," she said, her eyes shining up at him, as if he were her whole world now.

Johnny proceeded in filling her up, then as he promised, he rocked his hips nice and slow, carefully stretching her core around him. She took a deep breath and felt the tension release from her body.

He made love to his virgin Princess tenderly until he came. He made sure to extract himself as he spilled his seed and laid back on the mattress, staring at the ceiling.

"Are you good?" Johnny said, looking over at her. She turned to rest on her side and nodded, "I'm good, John."

"Back to John, hmm? Johnny is only for when you feel naughty?" He said, smiling.

She blushed but nodded. They made love again, this time, she was more interactive because, at one point, she gripped his ass and asked him to go harder. That turned Johnny on badly, and it took every ounce of willpower not to drill her into the mattress.

They fell asleep together, Johhny first as he was already exhausted. As he snored softly, Amelia rested her head on his chest in bliss.

[aquidragon]

Halloween fic idea: You are in a haunted house with a few friends and you come across a painting on the wall. And although you leave, you couldn't get this painting out of your head, so you go back to go admire it one last time. However, much to your surprise, the man in the painting comes to life. and his name is PLAGAS LEONNNNN

DUD DUD DUH DDDDDUUUUUHHHHHH

i may have put too much effort into this than i thought, but fuck it, we ball!

---

Rating: T

CW(s): none (that I'm aware of)

Word Count: 2083

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Everyone knew not to approach the haunted mansion on top of the hill, which casted it’s shadow down upon the small, sleepy town in the middle of nowhere. You weren’t sure why you allowed yourself to be dragged along by your friends to explore the abandoned house, especially the night before Halloween. 

You panted heavily as you reached the crest of the wheat colored hill, dried grass and leaves crunched underneath your laced boots with every step. The mansion itself must’ve been beautiful once, in it’s hayday, but now the white paint was mostly faded and chipped off. All the windows were shattered, or boarded up with wooden planks. Overgrown plants took over the main balcony, a garden of uncontrolled weeds twisting and weaving around eachother. 

Most of your friends, to your dismay, had already entered the mansion; leaving you to your own disposal. You looked up at the impressive, crumbling structure, a cold ball of dread sunk down to your stomach. You felt sick. The doors loosely hung on their rusted hinges, you were surprised that the entrance was never sealed up. 

With a deep sigh, you stepped into the mansion. You marveled at the giant, vintage chadiellor that hung from the ceiling; it’s crystals catching the setting sunlight, twinkling patterns over the tall walls. You stepped forward, in the center of the large main room, despite the chill that rattled down your spine; the decaying space felt peaceful. 

You inhaled sharply, the scent of mildew, dust and what smelled like a distinct copper filled your nose. You instantly coughed, your lungs protesting the intrusion of dust alongside the favored oxygen. You tried to peel your ears, to see if you could hear your friends’ excited chatter, but you were met with silence. 

“Guys?” You called out, grabbing the flashlight from your bag, shining it down the dark hallway to your right. 

Silence, again. 

You furrowed your eyebrows, looking up the massive staircase that was ahead of you. Many of the wooden stairs were missing planks, with jagged rusty nails sticking up, just waiting to give someone tetanus. You walked to the base of the steps, shining the flashlight up, frowning. “Are you guys up there?”

Crickets. 

“Great,” you mumbled, heart pounding in your ears. You figured your best bet would to search the first floor of the mansion first, and was the safest. The evening breeze whispered through the gaping doorway of the entrance, as you decided to go down the hallway to your right. It was pitch black, without your flashlight, you would’ve been practically blinded. 

Portraits of what seemed to be high-ranking individuals lined both walls, you shone your light on them, a brass plaque with their name and the year was placed below each painting. You paused to read each name, getting a glimpse of the manor’s history. To your surprise, it seemed that the dates were recent, instead of ancient; like you had figured. 

You continued to walk down the black corridor, before almost colliding into a closed door. You knocked on the oak surface, hesitantly. “Are you guys in there?” You asked, more loudly than you intended. Suddenly, a freezing gust of wind blew down the hallway, as you swore the eyes of each portrait pinned on you. 

You swallowed deeply, a trickle of sweat lingered on your forehead. You turn around, ready to head back to search the other hallway, before the yellow light of your flashlight catches a dark figure. At the end of the hallway, staring back with you with empty eyes, motionless. Your knees almost buckled with dread, not recoginzing the silhouette to match any of your friends’. You felt more eyes digging onto you, watching for your next move. 

You swung your body back around, as soon as you heard footsteps coming behind you. You glanced back, the mysterious figure was gone, but the steps kept getting closer. Without a second thought, you yanked the door open, flinging yourself inside the room. Against your better judgement, you grabbed nearby desk-chair, and barricaded it underneath the brass doorhandle. 

“No way.” You gasped to yourself, feeling adrenaline pumping through your veins like morphine. Was this place really haunted? 

You looked back at the small room you had locked yourself into, noting the small fireplace; and the large portrait that hung above it. The fireplace crackled to life, making you jump, and effectively making your blood run cold. Orange light flooded the room, illuminating the painting hanging at the hearth. 

A man of ash-blond hair, with fringed bangs sat before you. His eyes were painted a brilliant shade of bloody crimson, with high, handsome cheekbones. A faintest hint of a smirk graced his pale blush lips, as his gaze pierced through his portrait. You timidly approached the painting, the bronze plaque underneath was faded, his identity wiped clean from existence. 

Strangely, you felt disappointed, not knowing the mysterious man’s identity. You looked back at the painting, a bit of his chest was exposed through the loose fitting white blouse. You tentatively traced your finger over the textured oil paint, but your fingerprint caught no dust. Was someone maintaining the portrait? 

Before you could investigate farther, your friends shouted your name from the other side of the door. You scrambled to the door, moving the chair out of the way, and peeking out the door. Your three friends stared back at you, with mirrored concerned expressions. You gave them an embarrassed grin, before starting to follow them out the door. 

You turned back one last time, to take one last glimpse at the portrait, burning scarlet eyes briefly met yours, before the fire whooshed out and the door slammed shut. Your eyes widened and you scurried after your group, with your heart racing. 

So why did you return to the next evening? You weren’t exactly sure, but you were drawn to the portrait you saw in the small room. The full, October moon hung high in the night sky, as wispy clouds drifted across the horizon. You stood at the broken entrance doorway again, staring into the dark void. 

With a deep, unsure breath, you crossed into the threshold. Transported into another world, carried on by your morbid sense of curiosity. You made a beeline to the room again, flashlight tight in your hand, as you carried yourself through the corridor. Countless painted eyes followed you as you approached the door, and your hand pushed on the cold brass doorhandle. 

It was locked. 

You felt an odd feeling of disappointment settle in your stomach. You had come all this way just for the door to be locked? It wasn’t locked yesterday. 

Hesitantly, your knuckles rapped against the oak surface, and almost instantly; the door creaked open. The fire ignited to life, and the portrait was empty. Your eyes widened, as you walked over to investigate the empty frame. “-but it was there yesterday?” You mumbled to yourself, questioning your memory. 

The door slamming shut behind you yanked you from your thoughts, as you jumped and scrambled to grab the pocket knife you had brought with you; pointing it at at the door. A man, the same man as the one you had saw in the portrait stood at the door, blocking your only exit route. His red eyes met you with an intense, cold ferocity you had never seen before. 

“Don’t come any closer!” You shouted, pointing the silver blade threateningly at the mystery-man. 

He scoffed, crossing his arms over his partially bare torso, dangerous spikes bristled from his spine as he glowered at you. “You think that pathetic thing can kill me? Please.” He rolled his eyes, carelessly approaching you. 

You cowered slightly, scooting against the wall, the heat of the fireplace radiating the left side of your face. You hid your face in your arms, maybe you were dreaming? You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping that you were in some sick nightmare that your conscious decided to conjure up on Halloween night. However, the stinging feeling of your hair being yanked up was real. 

Portrait man peered at your face, using his grip on your head to shift you around to different angles. Studying your appearance closely, before his eyes seemed to light up with a form of recognition. “You’re the woman from yesterday.” He commented, letting go of your hair. “Why the fuck did you come back?”

You tenderly rubbed your scalp, the slight sting started to ebb away. “The more important question is, how the fuck are you alive?” You hissed back, against your better judgement. 

“You shouldn’t be here!” The blond growled, eyes glancing over at the shut door behind him. “It’s dangerous for humans.” 

“I just wanted to investigate your portrait a bit closer.” You explained hotly, crossing your arms. “I didn’t know this place was haunted by walking paintings, what are you, anyway?” 

Mystery man wrinkled his nose, as if he was amused. “I think the proper question is; ‘who are you?’” He snidely commented. 

You opened your mouth to argue, but he hushed you instantly. “To answer your kind question, I’m Leon Scott Kennedy.” He hummed down at you, “and you are?” 

Your name felt strange on your lips, as you told him. Leon repeated your name, tasting it on his tongue, as it were a fine candy. “To answer your rude question, I’m a cursed man, to put it simply.” 

“Is that why you’re trapped in a painting?” You asked, feeling a bit dumb. 

“Partially,” Leon grunted in annoyance, “-also my appearance.” He flexed the spines on his back and shoulders. Small black veins bulged through his pale skin, and what seemed to be tiny worms wiggled around his chest. 

You gagged at the sight, feeling intense unease. 

“Maybe you can help free me,” the blond stated cooly. His crimson eyes bore into you, with an unreadable expression. “I just require one, simple, request.” 

“A simple request?” You breathed, hesitantly. “How can I free you?” 

Leon smirked, squatting down to your level, his tight navy tousers hugged his thighs delightfully. The amber light of the fireplace illuminated his porcelain skin, including the exposed skin of his pectorial muscles. “You know how to break curses, don’t you?” He whispered into your ear, tickling the back of your neck. 

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you stammered. 

“Oh, I think you do, sweetheart.” He grinned wolfishly. “You read it in your storybooks, saw it in Disney movies, I think you know.” 

Oh. 

“You mean, a-a kiss?” You bit the inside of your lip, blood rushing to your face.

“That’s exactly what I mean, doll.” Leon sat back on his haunches to look at you. “You’re beautiful, innocent, an ideal person to break my curse.” 

You felt an odd sense of anxiety budding in your chest, as you flinched away from him. “How do I know I can trust you? Will it even work?” You asked, brain spinning. 

The handsome man shrugged, the loose white blouse drifting around his broad shoulders. “If it doesn’t, I’m quite used to this lack-of-life.” He glanced at you, a charming smile spreading across his lips. “Of course, I’m giving you a choice. There’s not much I can do to get you to trust me-” he gestured to his spikes, “-but I promise I won’t hurt you.” 

Your jaw set as you weighed your options, feeling overwhelmed by the burning eyes that stared into yours intensely, as well as his plump pink lips. You swallowed deeply, washing a piece of the anxiety that lodged in your throat away. “F-Fine, it can’t hurt to try, right?” 

Maybe this was a bad idea. 

Leon smiled at you, genuinely, and his shoulders seem to melt with relief. “Thank you.” He leaned into your lips, delicately meeting your mouth his his. Your eyes fluttered shut, as one of his hands ghosted on your cheek. The coldness of his skin started to turn into warmth, as more color began to rush into his flesh. He inhaled sharply as he felt life flow back through his veins, as the plagas around his chest wiggled in delight. 

You had done it, the stange, mysterious wanderer who happened to find his portrait gave him life again. Your lips tasted like bubblegum, as he fully melted into the kiss. After a moment, Leon had finally pulled away, the redness in his eyes faded into a gentler blue. “Did I do it?” You gasped breathlessly, eyes wide. 

“Yeah,” he croaked, “I think you did.”  ---

dedicated to the re4 remake romantic skin!!

[alifos]

alyosha karamazov is:

weak sweet smell of incense; a black robe fluttering in the cold wind, soft hands with thin fingers, and hot wax running down the small candle; cold and starry night Christmas; yellowed pages of the prayer book; the whispers of prayers in the twilight; a flickering light of the lamp, reflected in the window glass; pines surrounding the skit; bright unclouded eyes that penetrate to the separation of the compounds; a loaf of black bread, split in half; crystal and cold spring water, which makes the teeth and want to laugh; the sweetness and softness of the Easter cake, melting in the mouth; slim young birches in the heart of the storm detachment in her eyes and posture; worn wooden rosary in his pocket, a long rumble alarm bells; lingering angelic choir singing; soft eyes Virgin Mary and awe invisible angel wings; cut a heart burning with love no matter what; worn boots and zastenny, altered the length and breadth of the cassock; bowed as a sign of silent reverence head; hair color swingate wheat; foggy night vision that in the Russian sky anymore there is no God; the pale pink dawn sky over a pine forest; porcelain saucer with cherry jam; careful fraternal embrace; a damp towel, which changes every twenty minutes; untainted soul, troubled by anxiety and soothing love, boundless and infinite like the sky, like the sea, like a field of rye; timely filed arm; knees, humming from prostrations; the water turned into wine, is poured into a clay Cup; fear to see and inhuman desire to finally see Him.

a young man tormented by the passions of his family. a fighter of his Lord, a warrior of Christ, from now on and forever.