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robinuntamed · 4 months

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Forward

Wei Ying kisses him and it’s—ah—he can’t think past the frenzied burn of it: fingers in his hair and desperate sucking at his neck and ah, ah, it’s, it’s—all-consuming, and Lan Wangji’s mind was always, ah, the thread that keeps it all together—

Helpless, entirely and rabidly so, helpless, crashing against Wei Ying’s chest and grabbing whatever his shaky hands can find, it’s—it’s all he’s—not even allowed himself to dream, and he, he can’t, can’t possibly, can’t. Breathing… can’t. He’ll never stop, never, not if he has any—he has no choice, nothing to do but keep pushing forward, forward, forward-forward-forward. The tense line of Wei Ying’s abs is overwhelming. The scent at the place where his shoulder meets neck. It’s like he’s drunk, is he drunk, did he drink anything? He can’t imagine ever putting his mouth on anything that isn’t Wei Ying’s skin. The taste is… spicy?

He never… ah, the wall, at his back. Forward or backwards? The whole room is spinning. His head is, is, alight, everything too bright and blistering to the touch. He can’t stop touching. The soft skin beneath Wei Ying’s under-robes, the breathtaking squishiness of the lobe of his ear. Is Lan Wangji just squeezing it? Everything feels three sizes too large and a hundred times too loud. He wants it all, so badly he burns. Burns. Everything burns. If Wei Ying stops touching him something terrible would happen, something catastrophic.

He doesn’t, stop. Good. Lan Wangji doesn’t think he knows how to anymore. A distant part of his brain is saying something incomprehensible about ‘self-control’, and the entire concept is ridiculous. Boring. Anything that isn’t Wei Ying gets shoved out of the way, and in the immediate vicinity is all this Wei Ying, from his fingertips to his hands to his arms to his shoulders, to his neck to his cheeks to his nose to his forehead, to his hair to the nape of his neck to the small of his back, to the un-im-not possible curve of his arse, to his thighs and his knees and his shins and his feet. His feet. Under the socks are Wei Ying’s naked feet. Lan Wangji feels shaky with the knowledge.

He wants down. He wants to be released from the vice grip on his waist (never, never let him go), wants to slide gracefully (ha) to his knees and take those socks off and marvel at every single toe. He wants to kiss his way from the devastating angle of his ankle, up the sheer muscle of his leg, hide his face in the crook of his knee. He wants the whole tour, the entire thing, wants, wants, wants, so much that he forgets to breathe. Forgets to ask. Forgets to remember, because Wei Ying is on him and the wall behind so he doesn’t fall even when he staggers. It’s… too much. Lan Wangji is vaguely aware he’s begging.

It's only half-words. “Plea,” and “hnff,” and “ah-ah-ah,” and. He’d be ashamed, but there’s no room for much besides the aching, scorching thrill of it. The desperation is rising and rising and rising like water, like a flood, rising-rising and he cannot, won’t stop it. It’d be terrifying if he wasn’t exactly this vulnerable every time Wei Ying so much as looks at him. It would be terrifying if he had even an ounce left to care.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, solid and blazing-hot at the edge of his consciousness, “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” like those words alone hold power, are magic. They must be, because the fever in his blood just goes ricocheting all the way up, he’s burning alive and he doesn’t care because Wei Ying is still saying, “Lan Zhan,” and he wants him, he wants him too, and that on its own is already too far. Lan Wangji can’t… can’t.

He tries to speak but all that comes out are aborted little mewls. He’s… drowning in all of this, somehow divested of most of his clothes, and the wall is cold on his shoulder blades and Wei Ying is impossible, hip to hip, grinding in some mindless rhythm that has Lan Wangji’s heart trying to rip out of his chest, clean through. No, it’s not his heart, it’s—ah! Wei Ying’s arms around him, crushing. Mouth right back to what has to be his favourite spot, somewhere under Lan Wangji’s ear, he’d love to say exactly where but he’s melting, his whole mind is melting, and—Wei Ying helps loop Lan Wangji’s leg around his waist. Oh, he’s in the air. On the wall. Oh, he’s… lost, entirely, and the little shivers he can’t stop are only making it more, more, touch, more friction, and he wishes and wishes he could grasp even a tiny bit of what’s happening and he can’t.

“Wei Ying,” he says, miraculously, out loud. Then again, “Wei Ying—bed—”

Wei Ying laughs, and it’s the sweetest and most outrageous sound. How is everything spinning? How is any of it possible. That Wei Ying. Pulling one arm, “Yes, yes,” as if Lan Wangji said the most important thing, as if Wei Ying is also—is also—

They move, they don’t, it’s frightening, and then he hits something soft (a mat? Please be a mat) and then he hits something softer (Wei Ying, Wei Ying, Wei—) and then he hits something hard and his mind snaps.

Open—he’s so entirely open. Wei Ying can ask for anything and he would give it. Wei Ying wouldn’t even need to ask. Lan Wangji is aching to give him: to give, to give, to give, himself and everything he possesses, that he can reach. Attempting to get his limbs back under control, to give—

But Wei Ying doesn’t want him in control right now. His eyes are alight with something fiercer than joy, something unbreakable and unfathomable and just bursting-piping-hot. How can anyone stand it, is beyond him; it doesn’t matter. Wei Ying is looking at him like he’s ravenous. His hand trails gentle lines down Lan Wangji’s bare torso (bare? He’s so bare), and his eyes, his eyes.

“Mine,” he says, and it comes out choked, like a plea. A prayer. Lan Wangji musters all of his strength (currently close to none):

“Yours,” he nods. “All yours.”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying gasps, and then he’s on him again, and everything else shuts down.

It’s fast and scalding and desperate—

It’s slow and lingering and sweet—

It’s thudding in his chest like a warhorse through a battlefield, rampaging higher-higher-higher-higher—

Wei Ying kisses him and Lan Wangji thinks: yes. This, exactly this.

#wangxian #wangxian fic #mdzs #the untamed #Robin Untamed #1111 words #i hear it was my boy's bday yesterday #so here's a little gift for our precious hanguang-jun #lan zhan #wei wuxian #really soft hazy smut #REALLY soft. really hazy #i hesitate to even rate this 'm'#hello new fandom!

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connectingwithsoul · 1 year

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When your soul is longing for someone, it never goes away.

@connectingwithsoul

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thepoetryofascension · 25 days

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there are lives that you’ve touched; people who burn brighter simply because of the way that you’ve graced them—and it’s not always obvious; more often than not, the imprint is quiet. you are carried nonetheless.

#important #gentle suggestions #important reminders #note to self #poem #love #positive thinking #quote #wholesome #words #1111 #444 #555 #divine feminine #me #self #positive thoughts #positivity

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histhoughtslately · 3 months

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Your breakthrough is right in front of you. Just look a little closer.

- b.n.

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ryutarotakedown · 3 months

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Haori was tall, was the first thing Gina noted — maybe even taller than Naruhodou — and she was dressed in a pale yellow kimono. Her angles were soft and yet there was something distinctly angular to her, and her hands looked uncalloused, like she’d never worked a day in her life, and she was smiling at Susato like a sunflower turning to face the sky. Gina promptly decided to hate her.

Or: Gina Lestrade meets someone new.

Written for Gina Weekend (@ginalestradezine) and Femslash February 2024, day three: cake

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polar-equinoxx · 1 year

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@pollyna you made this idea and it took my brain and made me write this *sobbing noises*

(Apologies for the tag :0)

1111 words✨

Please enjoy <3

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺🌟

It’s okay not to be okay

third person

“Ice, please, it’s not your fault,”

“Yes it is Slider, stop denying it,”

“I’m not denying it,”

“You heard what she said, all the evidence points to it being me,”

“Yes, I heard what she said but-”

“Shut up, just, just shut up Sli,” He exhales.

Slider doesn’t shut up. “Mav doesn’t think it’s your fault,”

Then he doesn’t say anything, glaring at the carpet to the left of his RIO’s shins.

“Ice,”

“I’m going, I’m going,” he puts his hands up and makes a beeline for the half open sliding door. “I’ll see you tomorrow,”

“Alright Ice, I’ll see you then,”Slider sighs, shaking his head but letting his pilot leave all the same. He needs the space, and he respects that.

There’s a long stretch of empty path that runs down from the estate to the beach, then it does along it for miles in each direction. Ice takes that path. He just wanted to be alone, he wanted the grief to go, he wanted the guilt to leave him.

It was late, and there were hardly any lights around to illuminate the path, but Ice has walked it enough times to know where he’s going. Ten minutes from the O Club in the other direction was an indent into the sea wall that overlooked the beach more. He stands there, resting his elbows on the stony wall, leaning his head down into his hands, holding his throbbing head. The discussion with Slider hadn’t helped with that one bit.

What he wanted to do was disappear for a night or forever.

What he wanted to happen was to have taken that shot. Or get out the way faster.

He didn’t care. He just wanted Goose back, same as Maverick.

Ice lifts his head up and pulls himself up onto the wall, letting his legs hang over the side of it, holding his head with his right as he picks up a shell someone left.

The spray from the waves was hitting his ankles. He usually would have smiled at it, but he doesn’t care this time. He stares at the black water, lit only by the yellow streetlamp a few metres back from where the path branched off toward the road.

Charlie’s words echo back at him. “It’s Kazansky’s fault Mav,”

His fault.

Not Maverick’s, he’d never believe that, let alone say it.

His.

He blinks, long and hard, sniffing. Dammit.

“Hey,”

Ice very nearly falls off the wall at the softly spoken greeting.

“Can I?”

He nods, clearing his throat and swiping at his eyes.

Maverick sits down next to him.

Iceman stares straight at the sea below them, raising his leg slightly to let it fall and hit the wall.

“It’s not your fault,”

He doesn’t say anything.

“It’s not your fault, Ice,” Maverick says again.

“What isn’t?” Ice asks, knowing full-well what Maverick was talking about.

“Goose,”

Ice bites the inside of his cheeks. “…Don’t say that,”

“But it’s not,” He says, looking at him even though Ice was staring at anything other than him.

“Yes it is,”

“No it’s not,”

“Charlie said it was,”

“I know,” Maverick says after a second, his voice low.

“I thought you and her were together,” he sniffs.

“We were,”

Ice flicks his eyes to him for the smallest second.

“After that… debriefing, that night she,” he swallows. “She told me grief is for kids and women and that I should get over him and win it by myself,”

Maverick’s expression shows nothing, like he’s deliberately practised dulling it. Ice just puts his hand on Maverick’s for a second, then he takes it away and pretends like he didn’t.

“I know how many times she’s said that to you,” he says. “I wanted to say something,”

He did..? Why?

“But... I was too scared to say anything,” Maverick exhales and keeps looking at Ice. “Hey,”

Ice doesn’t look at him and he doesn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know if there was anything he could say.

“Wingman,”

The nickname catches Ice off-guard and he looks back to him. They’d only been wingmen since the Layton mission, and that was three weeks ago. “Don’t make me feel like it isn’t my fault,”

“It was an accident,” Maverick’s voice takes on the barest hint of desperation.

“Accidents are done by someone, Mav,” he frowns and tries to stop the burning behind his eyes.

“Not this one,” They could hardly see the other one’s eyes in the dark, but they kept the eye-contact all the same. “It was not your fault, it was not anyone’s fault,”

Ice drops his eyes from Maverick’s, glaring at his hands.

“Please just believe me on that,”

Maverick reaches for one of Ice’s hands, but he yanks it away and pulls his left leg up, making a shield from the dark-haired pilot. “Leave me,”

Maverick looks at Ice, and doesn’t leave. He was completely shut off, walls of the coldest permafrost shielding him from anything that could get him.

“Leave me alone,” Ice’s voice betrays him and cracks in two on the last word.

“No,” he says quietly. Maverick wasn’t very good at following orders, and this was no exception as he shuffles closer to him and wraps his arms around him as tightly as he can.

“Mav- I’m fine-” Ice gets out, still turning his head away from him, despite being in sudden close contact with him.

“C’mere,” Maverick whispers to him, trying to get him to lean into him.

Ice exhales heavily, his breath shaking as he draws air back in.

“Come on,” Maverick pushes Ice’s head into his shoulder, desperately trying to get the blond to let himself break. He knows it was hard for him, Ice was Ice, he didn’t show his emotions readily, and if he did he was always alone and able to keep it in check, not like this.

Feeling Maverick’s hand on the back of his head, it was like a switch that turned off, like all his defences came down at once. His hands were in fists to stop them from shaking, it didn’t work.

“Mav... I’m sorry-” Ice’s voice was hoarse as he sobbed into his shoulder.

“Shhh, don’t. Don’t apologize,” Maverick murmurs, he’d never blamed Ice, and he wouldn’t ever now, not after seeing the extent of how deep Charlie’s words dug inside him and rooted themselves there. “It’s okay not to be okay,”

They end up sitting on the wall together, Ice leaning on Maverick, until it got entirely too cold, and then they went back to Ice’s place and watched a stupid show and ate oreos until they fell asleep together.

#THAT IDEA DESTROYED ME SO I HAD TO WRITE IT #am deFINYELY GOING TO BE DOING ART FOR THIS #like as soon as i post #i’m so extra i made the word count deliberately 1111 LMAO #gonna be on ao3 also v. soon #ms tg #ms fanfics #icemav #tom iceman kazansky #pete maverick mitchell #ron slider kerner #top gun #top gun 1986

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galaxiesvibes · 1 year

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On my mind 🌺 ☽ ☼☾☽ ☼☾☽ ☼☾☽ ☼☾☽ ☼☾☽ ☼☾☽ ☼☾☽ #galaxiesvibes #1111 #love #quotes #words #wordporn #quote #nature #spiritual #spirituality #awakening #quotesoftheday #inspired #inspire #astronaut #soul #goodvibes #life #vibes #vibe #goodvibes #enlightenment #healing #heal #space #flowers #intuition #meditation #stars #art https://www.instagram.com/p/CMtQB9FnLx7/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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miki3aqors · 1 year

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Oh yeah! I wrote Stargazing a few weeks ago but never shared the art I kinda sorta made before it but now it's for the fic~

Sometimes ya feelin lonely so ya wanna cuddle... That was the original inspo for this art... then I legit dreamed about this fic and had to make it reality! I should attempt more promo art for my fics... I like makin little sketches like this

Despite being trans myself, I'm still diving into the T4T side of things. It's been fun! albeit I get scared that I am doing something wrong and I panik

Hope ya enjoy!

#miki art #miki writes #I guess it's both?#sorry for rambling I am half aware of what I am doing right now #also fun fact: I saw I hit 1111 words and as i was editing I made it a MISSION to keep it that long #albedo #aether #aebedo #genshin #aether x albedo #albether #genshin headcanons #my fic

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wordswithloveee · 8 months

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Waiting for better person....

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roarysblog · 9 months

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#positive affirmations #aesthetic #cute #black #angel #angelic #1111 #manifestation blog #manifestation #manifesting #words #heart

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coldercreation · 2 years

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aaaaaaa I've already gotten so many good Lizzy ideas and I have been writing tonight, trying to use as many of those as I can, but guys...

I made someone be nasty to Liam and now I hate meeee :'(((

And obviously I now get to write all the fluffs to make it better but HOW COULD I DO THATTT!! Wahh my little Lime I'm so sorry </3

#this was supposed to be a mini...#it's exactly 1111 words just now #which means it's a lucky sign lol #but also means it's not the miniest mini #but are we surprised?#absolutely not lmao #xx

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robinuntamed · 3 months

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Irrefutable

“You mean, would I have done it for you?” Lan Zhan asked with this hurt look in his eyes, and Wei Wuxian wished to have swallowed his tongue whole.

“No! No, no, nothing like that. That’s just stupid. All this hypothetical business is rubbish anyway, I know that—”

Even worse, this soft thing his face should not physically be able to do without shifting a single cun. “Wei Ying. I would give you my core.”

Ah, well. Hmm. No, there was no chance to process that. The worst part about life two was maybe how un-flustereably sweet Lan Zhan turned out to be: Wei Wuxian suspected he may have always been sweet, under the solid layer of embarrassment. Now there wasn’t even that.

“Shameless,” he managed, croakily.

Lan Zhan just looked at him. He didn’t move his lips, but he was smiling. “My life is Wei Ying’s,” he declared simply. “My body. My—” stopped only when Wei Wuxian’s hand was on his vexingly-gorgeous mouth.

“All right! All right. It was a stupid question and I’m a stupid man, we get it. Please, Lan Zhan, I can’t bear any more.”

“You will bear it,” the fiend said, after pressing an unfair tiny kiss to his palm.

“Mercy,” Wei Wuxian whined. His chest was too tight for all of this. For all this Lan Zhan, soft and lovely in the evening light, every line of him in blinding, overwhelming harmony. The room was beautiful, the best Jinlintai had to offer, and still seemed a crude backdrop; Lan Zhan was grace itself.

“Mm,” came his concession, or perhaps his refusal, since he pressed another kiss to the hand he would not release, then another.

“Lan Zhan. Lan—Zhan! Lan Zhan, stop, stop it, unless you’d like a puddle of melted Wei Wuxian and it’s going to ruin your nice robes and probably get sticky in your hair and Lan Zhan are you even listening?”

He wasn’t, clearly, although he did this thing with his shoulders that signified laughter, and Wei Wuxian did melt, just, his whole chest gone writhing and slippery and helpless, he was so entirely helpless against this. The only enemy the fearsome Yiling Laozu couldn’t match. And in fact, the battle was getting much fiercer, and unimaginably dirty:

“Lan Zhan, that tickles! Stop, stop, you magnificent arsehole, ah, ha, that, stop, stop, I beg you!”

Stopped only to give him this puzzled look. Something in his tone must have registered. “Did I upset Wei Ying?”

“No,” helpless, rubbing his useless eyes. How to explain this ever-raging storm in his blood of I want to make the whole world yours, and that would still not be enough? “No, Lan Zhan, you're just… perfect.”

He tilted his head the tiniest of angles, suddenly transforming into something so serious it scratched inside Wei Wuxian’s throat. “Not perfect,” Lan Zhan said, as if to make a point. He was mad.

“Huh?” nose scrunching when—he didn’t frown, but—“Lan Zhan. Come here.” Taking his face in two hands, his beautiful, impossible face, which still didn’t move and now was inconsolably, irreparably sad? What the actual hell? Wei Wuxian did that sometimes, said the wrong thing and caused this mini-avalanche, this earthquake which threatened everything good. But he wasn’t even talking about himself this time. What did he say to make Lan Zhan sad?

How dare he make the world’s most perfect man—ah.

Idiot, idiot, idiot. Wei Wuxian could strangle himself if his hands weren’t holding something much more precious. Pressing tighter: “Silly creature. Lan Zhan, let me promise you, the standards for perfection are vastly different between yours and the rest of the known world, but neither matter. You don’t need to be perfect.”

“I know.”

Yeah, he would, wouldn't he. “You may know it here,” Wei Wuxian said, as gently as he could, and kissed right above the bridge of his nose. “I think you might forget it elsewhere. Lan Zhan, you’re everything I could ever want. No, you’re far more than that.”

Slow, cautious blinking: fuck, Wei Wuxian really put his foot in his mouth this time. Lan Zhan looked afraid. Had he not—stupid, stupid Wei Wuxian, has he not been clear enough? Did he not do his best to reassure this miracle of a man that… he should be spending every second of every minute of every hour of every day solely on—

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan said. His voice was so deep and so familiar that it settled him, even when it shouldn’t have.

“Lan Zhan,” heartbroken, “you know that I…”

He placed his hands over Wei Wuxian’s. “I know.”

“No, listen. This is important. You know that I—”

“Wei Ying,” softly, “I know.”

“Will you let me speak, you gorgeous arse. Listen. You’re the only reason I—”

“Wei Ying.”

Shaking him: “Stop interrupting and listen. You’re all that matters to me. I would work every day for the rest of my life to be worthy of you and I know I would never be; I would spend every moment on providing you every shred of happiness; I would go to the ends of the earth with a smile.”

Lan Zhan looked at him for the longest moment, then said, “Mm.”

“Mm? That’s all you have to say for yourself? Silly thing, did you listen? Do you get it now? Do you understand how breathtaking and crucial and—”

“I understand,” the bastard cut him off, the edge of his nose brushing Wei Wuxian’s. “My answer remains the same.”

“Your answer?”

The tiniest quirk of his lips, managing to look exasperated and disastrously fond: “Mm.”

“What answer? What are you even on about? Did I ask you a question? Honestly, sometimes you old men do drone on and on when something so simple can be said instead, and…” Wei Wuxian realised he was panicking, had no idea why.

“You asked,” Lan Zhan said.

“Huh?”

He made this face, half fiendish and half bashful, all devastating, and pulled away the tiniest bit until his one blurry eye became definite two. He was the dearest thing in the whole world, so much was true: he was beautiful, and perfect only in the ways that mattered, in the shape of his face under Wei Wuxian’s palms and the burst of never-ending affection that would ruin Wei Wuxian’s life. Running a helpless finger over full, red lips, rejoicing in the trembliness of it, of this joy. Lan Zhan truly was a miracle, and he was looking right at him so, so seriously.

“I would give Wei Ying my core.”

Wei Wuxian could only shut him up with a kiss.

#wangxian #wangxian fic #wei wuxian #lan wangji #being syrupy and unbearably sweet #just being happy. and together. did we want more than that #1111 words #Robin untamed

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connectingwithsoul · 4 months

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When the time comes, you let them go with love.

@connectingwithsoul

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thepoetryofascension · 5 months

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inspiration in december. wonder in december. reverie in december. prosperity in december. kindred spirits in december. serendipity in december. fated connections in december. sparkle in december. soul stirring moments in december. positive change in december. renewal in december. deep love in december.

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theeofficialhabibi · 1 year

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444- a reminder that your angels and the universe are with you, supporting you, and guiding you on your path. A reminder that your natural state is one where you are a harmonizer;

harmonizing discordant frequencies to transmute them into something new and beautiful. Also a reminder to not get caught up in the discordant energies.

111-signifies confidence within yourself and motivates your own strength and decision-making when opportunities are sent your way. A reminder that you are a constant creator, constantly creating the reality you see around you. Your Thoughts matter and contribute to what you create.

#black girls of tumblr #blackgirlbloggers #spilled words #angel number 1111 #spilled thoughts #words typed #angel numbers #affirmations #affirmation of the day #ideas vision board

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sp4cepunisher · 1 year

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i love writer’s block

#this shit is fucking infuriating #ok it's not even writer's block #because i'm working on something rn like it's in the pipeline the draft is Drafting #....but i can't get the words down #nothing sounds good #it's all so clumsy like i've been writing and then deleting shit for the past two days #I LOVE BEING A WRITER #IT'S ALWAYS SO FUN AND CAREFREE!!!!!!!!!!!!11!!!1111!!

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