i hate drawing this much detail
Childe: I've invited you here because I crave the deadliest game....
Aether, nodding: Knife Monopoly.
Childe: ...I was actually going to suggest Russian Roulette, but now I'm curious on what this "Knife Monopoly" is.
“Love with all your heart and don’t care about nothing else”
It’s my feminist and bisexual duty to objectify the men in Genshin Impact.
Harry Potter Outfit Sets for Boys & Girls by JoannieGaming
Cerulean Age:26 5ft 8in He/Him Cerulean is the oldest son of Cinna and Nilla, being a usually very shy and quiet boy he doesn’t socialize much. He ends up flustering very easily and will often try to avoid a confrontation of any kind by quickly shuffling away from any crowds. He is more on the defensive side when is comes to using his magic, and is really unsure of where he wants to go in life.
हसनपुर में महादलित बच्चे को बिजली के खम्भे में घंटों बांधे रखा, वीडियो वायरल
संजय भारती , समस्तीपुर समस्तीपुर जिला के हसनपुर थाना क्षेत्र के परोड़िया पंचायत दाथ गांव वार्ड नंबर 01 का मामला वायरल हो रहा है। वायरल वीडियो में दाथ गांव के मनोज मिश्रा के पुत्र प्रभात मिश्रा सड़क के किनारे किराना दुकान खोल रखा है। महादलित परिवार के बच्चे खरंजा सड़क से मेन रोड होते हुए उत्क्रमित मध्य विद्यालय दाथ सरकारी स्कूल में पठन-पाठन करने जाते हैं । प्रभात मिश्रा को संदेह हुआ कि मेरे दुकान…
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salt your wounds and get up. sourced from the finest of seas, the medi-tear-ranean, framed by eastuaries of the rivers flowing down your cheeks. jokes aside, boys don't cry. salt your wounds and get up.
what a naive child you were, to think that running means they won't chase you. they know where you live. they have your number. your mind plays in their voices. you're not strong enough, i hope you know this, that a moment of clarity doesn't turn blood into crystal, wine into water. but rest; rest in the cold, under the stars, rest until the wolves catch up and corner you. rest.
every wound can unheal. remember this, that your seams are just that, and a thread can be pulled, weaved in ends can be unravelled, remember, remember... you will come apart.
pry these offerings into your cold hands. taking your eyes off a house doesn't mean you've burnt it down, fool. the windows will haunt your back, headlights tearing through your fragile night. theyre watching you, don't you get it? cram these offerings down your unmoving throat. you fucking idiot, time and time again, you fail to understand this; blood is not something one frees themself from. your body will outlive you.
for every coin you toss in this well, there's a gallon of thinner water. for fuck's sake, learn to bear this burden, learn that you will not outgrow pain, learn that it will hurt when she is alive and hurt when she is dead and you can't run, you can't run from a bear. you'll be sorry now and you'll be sorrier tomorrow. play dead. the blood in your veins remains unchanged, spilled or whole; you can't disown a self. it will betray you even beyond the river. the metallic taste of the coin in your mouth will remind you of life. and you'll know, you'll know, there's never been anywhere to flee, this boat isn't taking you anywhere you haven't already been.
children aren't built for running; towards, yes, but not away. im sorry you didn't know that. i'm sorry you never will. rest. rest, now.
Friday nights with my six year old
@getofflikeagun || Childe & Ae -- Continue? > Yes
“P....Please, sir....I want...it....”
Like a gun’s trigger finally being clicked, the hammer hitting the primer, a bullet fires off within his brain. Like a predator, the way his eyes darken as soon as the word ‘sir’ came from her lips is instant.
If the skies of his eyes could grow darker, they did. Enough to match an evening's sky just shortly after dusk had waned. Childe heled her up onto his lap, making sure to keep her knees pressed into the cushion of the chair. The quick shift in his demeanor, though he wasn't trying to hide it, made the room feel as if it grew ten degrees hotter. Shifting one hand to rest against her back, the other found a familiar warmth. Fabric moves at his command, and with too much ease he pushes her underwear down to her knees, then off and onto the floor near the wet carpet as he pushes her closer. Their faces but mere centimeters apart.
Instead of assaulting her lips with more kisses, as he would normally, his lips press against her neck hard. Teeth pinch at the skin, accompanied by sharp inhales of breath. Marking what belongs to /him/, and him alone. His hand that discarded the garment moves back to her womanhood. One finger pushes in, then another with no warning. Out of curiosity, he pumps them with vigor. A taste of what to come - as if she'll remember it. He can feel her juices starting to coat his hand a few pushes in. It causes him to smirk, and after a few minutes - and hard hickeys later - he smirks. Lips move to her ear as he speaks, demanding her full attention. Even as he distracts her by adding a fourth digit. Childe knows she can take it, walls loose and throbbing around him from pent up tension.
It's as if, even with these past few weeks, he knows Aedre like the back of his hand.
"Get on the desk." The few words he demands hold weight. Normally, he'd ease into this mindset. Go from sweet to demanding, and have it seem as if he was always this way from the start. Of course, Aedre finally found the shortcut. The business man helps her stay on him as he stands up, pressing her ass against the polyurethane-sealed dark oak wood. While doing so, when he feels that she's getting close to release, a wet pop of his fingers make an abrupt exit. Hands switch their positions, but instead of giving her pleasure, he hurriedly moves a few items to either side. Making enough room so she can lay comfortably, when - not if - the time comes.
"Don't make a sound. -- You're not walking out of this office tonight. I'm going to cover this entire office with you." Childe would normally try to make her scream. Addicted to the sound of her moans, but he couldn't risk it in the office. Yet, he was fine with it in the moment -- there's always later to hear her sweet song and get his fill. Once she's comfortable, the stalling adding tot he pressure.
He moves his head to look back into her hazy blue hues. His left hand moves to guide the tip of his cock against her entrance, then as he speaks, he sheathes himself deep within her womb.
"There won't be a place that won't have us burned into their surfaces." Childe’s lips go back to her skin, hands moving to her hip and blouse. Buttons are forcefully taken off. The hand on her lip is rough, nails digging into the fabric of her clothes and finding purchase into her skin. There’s no escape from this, now.
(Chapter 8 spoilers, on mobile so can’t make a cut lol)
Bunny: *is being murdered, begging for help*
Dory and Allan:
it’s so interesting that since I started working in a gym and I can now recognise the power of my own body and the capability etc. that my body image issues that have been with me my whole life are just… melting away
C-an I just talk about how I don't think the Ragnvindrs are of aristocratic blood. And how I think people of the Lawrance clan and nobles, in general, might very so casually forget that because... they got the money... they got etiquette... So it's like good enough...
And Diluc puts up a nice face, but 100% is like, "if this person makes 1 wrong move, I will be the first in line to end them," and he's like that with anyone who calls considers themself a noble.
And I think it makes Childe shit his pants laughing cause nothing will make Diluc cringe more. Then someone unironically calls themselves "better" than everyone else. Childe knows this. He also knows Diluc has to put up a good front and watching Diluc calmly interact with these people, while having a murder boner, is super funny to him.
I am THINKING
Wander so unapologetically gets excited and happy about the smallest thing like he got SO excited over Ye Old Timey Candle Stick Makers as if it was the funnest thing ever and calls everything amazing but it never loses its meaning just cuz Wander likes basically everything doesn't make it any less special
Oh MAN he just cares so much it amazing
Myuutsu mentally and emotionally ‘imprints’ on individuals he develops a connection with. which happens often tbh, he is easily attached and is very extroverted. this emotional imprinting develops a one-way link where Myuutsu has a kind of psychic monitoring system; a subconscious ‘health checkup’ of those he’s bonded with. if there is significant emotional and/or physical stress or pain, he will feel it and be Alerted to there being a problem.
Foul Legacy Childe x Reader Gender Neutral (no pronouns mentioned) Angst, Hurt/Comfort Warnings: Allusions to death, drowning, pain, storms, thunder, rain
~ * ~
You remember the day the ocean erupted.
You’d been in your office, at 2 PM exactly, pen in hand and ink spotting your fingers, the culprits a stack of papers in the upper corner. The sun had filtered through your window and casted shining streamers on your desk as you wrote, typical of Liyue’s golden summers. You tapped your pen against your chin- how to phrase this next sentence? Should you focus on one or two types of silk? You hummed contemplatively, then scribbled a few more words. Sturdiness- that was important to mention in a report, especially one about something elegant like silk. The room filled with a comforting silence as you wrote word after word on the paper in the delicate warmth of the sun.
The first drop came and went without attention. But it was soon followed by another. And another. And another, until the sky was shedding all its tears into the streets and ocean of the city. Your pen had fallen from your grasp with a resounding clatter as you stood to peer outside the window, your eyes narrowed. Rain? In Liyue? Now? It was ridiculous.
Then something burst out of the ocean and you fell backwards in shock, pushing yourself away from the window despite being on one of the upper levels of the harbor. You rushed downstairs and pushed your door open, catching glimpses of an enormous serpentine creature rising from the waters as people rushed up and down the streets in a panic. The rain poured down in buckets, drenching everything and everyone, and all around there’s a frenzy of screaming, shouting, yelling, the same phrase reworded a thousand times, The Fatui did this, it’s the Fatui’s fault, the Fatui are to blame, and you could only think of one thing- your associate, your acquaintance, your companion.
Childe. Where was he? Vanished to the Golden House, they told you, but not as Childe, as Tartaglia, the Harbinger. For business, he said.
But soon you were swept up with the waves of screaming, and the thought had been lost.
That was weeks ago, when the Traveler had harnessed the power of the Adepti and defeated the old god Osial, with a final blow from Lady Ningguang’s Jade Chamber to seal him in the sea. The entire nation held its breath as Fatui activity wavered, dropped, then fizzled out completely. Life returned to normal, the seasons rolling by like a sigh of relief as reassuring whispers spread the news that the Fatui were finally, finally stopping their irritating interferences with the harbor.
You finish your final words and set your pen down, a thoughtful frown prominent on your face. You’ve never really been affected by the Fatui. For the most part they simply existed, a rumored plague on the Liyue Qixing with their endless meddling, but to you they were simple guards standing near doors and on the docks. On occasion when you had to wait there you would make conversation, to which most of them would respond to either in earnest or slightly tense surprise. For all their supposed horrid tendencies and practices and nosiness, you had found that many of the Fatui were, quite simply, people; people from a different nation and far away from home. People who had their own interests and likes and dislikes. People who had their own reasons and dreams and realities.
People who had all vanished when the last ripple in the ocean had stilled. And among them, your friend Childe, the Twelfth Harbinger Tartaglia. He was the only Fatui you would really consider a friend, the others being mere acquaintances. He was always teasingly kind to you, offering to get you a meal or asking to spend some offtime together. You, ever-suspicious, had often refused, but he was persistent and determined to chip down your walls one by one. And when they shook and crumbled your friendship had blossomed, despite the odd melancholy in his eyes whenever he looked at you, a question you never knew the answers to.
All this he was. But he was gone now, you suppose, following the tall, elegant woman you had seen exiting the Northland Bank to the mysterious depths of Inazuma. He looked so exhausted, outwardly appearing as tired as you sometimes felt inside, and your brow pinches.
You sigh and set your pen to the side before rising from your chair, cursing yourself for contemplating old memories. You don’t expect Childe to return anytime soon, if ever, so perhaps some thoughts are best left packaged in their pretty boxes scattered around the attic of your mind. The door swings open as you slip on your coat- it’s chilly outside, and you walk to the teashop for a new blend and distraction from the conflicting turmoil in your head.
The rain begins just as you hurry back home, having forgotten your umbrella in a moment of carelessness. Liyue’s winters, while cold and biting, never froze the storms that encroached almost every other day, instead letting icy droplets of slush fall on people’s backs and clothes. The clouds shield the few stars in the sky from view, blocking out the moon and turning the raindrops an inky black. You shove your door open and immediately shut and lock it again with a sigh of relief, shaking out your clothes and rubbing your chilled hands together. Your breathing is the only sound in the house, and your bones soon settle with a deep chill as the pressing quiet seems more and more foreboding. You cock your head to the side and hear an ever-so-faint rustling sound, and you pick up your weapon before making your way down the hall.
When you reach the living room you blink in surprise. Unlike what you expected, nothing is broken, not a dish is out of place, no drawers are flung open and riffled through. Nothing is wrong, nothing is out of order, your limited vision tells you, but a cold breeze sends goosebumps down your arms and you make your way over to the ajar window, very nearly bumping into furniture several times. You fumble with the latch and pull the window shut, dragging the curtain closed as if to cover the rain with elegant patterns and cloth, and for a few moments, you listen to the steady pour outside as it creates a chiming melody on the roof and glass.
Something breathes next to you. You whirl away in shock, clutching your weapon tightly. Something is here with you, watching you across the room, observing your every move as you hurry to light a match for some semblance of sight, the lamps in your house completely useless right now. The match strikes and connects, a yellow flame bursting to life, flickering like a firefly. You hold it up and come face-to-face with a single eye. Enormous and pearly, it gleams softly in the darkness, although whether it is blue or purple you cannot say. Sharp, plated red armor surrounds it, mask-like and curling into twin horns. The creature’s skin is also armored and bony, shades of purple and black with occasional splashes of red or silver, covered by a pair of translucent, sparkling wings like the deepest sea. It towers over you, claws and teeth razor sharp even in the persisting gloom, and you gasp and stumble away in terror. The starry wings and deep, rich colors, and the feeling it emanates, of being crushed and drowned by shining waves…
An Abyssal creature, some sort of monstrous beast from the depths of your world. It must be.
You back away from it, your chest tight with fear and the thought of death, of dying at the hands of this monster, holding your weapon so tightly you fear it might crack in your grip.
You’ve never been a fighter, only practical enough to keep a weapon you could use nearby. Between you and the creature, the creature would win with a simple swipe of its claws, and you would bleed out on the floor until you didn’t exist anymore, just another body lost to the infinite ocean.
But there is no attack, no clashing, no burning, searing pain, only a soft, sad whimper. You open your eyes and see the creature reaching out to you, crawling across the floor like standing causes it agony, as it lets out a broken and desperate wail. You take a step back again, then a step forward, your fear seeping out of you. Holding the match higher, you lean forward and squint, dots of color bleeding into the environment.
Ginger. Wondrously fluffy ginger hair, although it's wet with rainwater, and a single streak of white like snow.
You know who, and you say who before you even think who, uttering out it’s, his, name in a hushed whisper.
Your weapon forgotten, you stand shellshocked in a corner of the room, so still and frozen that Childe himself attempts to rise to his feet, only to fall back to the ground with a pained cry, a sound that snaps your thoughts like shattering ice as you rush to support him. He scratches his claws on the ground, hiccupping, sobbing, whining tearfully at a pain you can’t see. You place a hand on the side of his face and he leans into it, almost slumping to the ground as he brings his hand up to cover your own. He stares at you, pained and suffering, with the same melancholy as before, a melancholy you now understand means I cannot love you, even though I so wish to, it is forbidden by fate and stars, and your heart breaks.
You pick up a distant rumble of thunder, and Childe yelps in fear, wrapping his claws around you and pressing his face into your side, trembling. Your fingers stroke through his hair, running down the sides of his face and horns, and his sobs die to labored breathing as exhaustion finally overtakes him and lets his body relax.
You remember the day the ocean poured down from the sky. It was now, in a dark room with a pinprick flame of light, holding the consequences of the Abyss.
I keep thinking about how many therapists have asked if I've had any history with child abuse and literally refused to take "I don't know" or "I don't remember" as an answer and I'm getting so angry oh my god