#{like a} fountain of knowledge

[purgatorysanctuary]

Fun fact from a Hellverse fan since 2013!!

Did you know Vaggie’s name has always been a Vagina joke??

[veerbles]

we all heard about 'jordie lives' fics, but what about 'kaz never explicitly says his mother is dead, so what makes you think that she is' ones?

[shit-people-probably-didnt-say]

Watched Percy Jackson today

I get hes 12 in the first book but how do you not figure out which Greek God is your Father when your full name is Perseus 😭

[mantisgodiveblog]

Against all odds, we have survived. We're taking a university course now, because the government will pay us for it and we do need the money, but it has unfortunately been eroding at our sanity somewhat, and we are learning nothing that we don't already know. We are, however, getting money.

We have somewhat of a backlog on Discord at the moment, as it doesn't have a daily upload limit and also it's easier to stick things on while we are being told things that we already know by people who are phrasing in in ways we find significantly misleading or incorrect (note: we don't use apps for things the vast majority of the time and if we access Tumblr via browser it immediately fucks up our formatting on PC, which can last several months). We will, hopefully, be posting these soon, but all is dependant on if we can actually scare up the time between courses to conglomerate that and fix any formatting errors in thoughts and such.

If that will happen any time soon... good question! Every time that our work practicum teacher opens her mouth, we take points of physical damage, and we don't think she understands the fact that getting back after we walk to a place also involves walking. We've had a lot going on for a while now and very little of it has been good. We're on new meds, and if the gods prove merciful, we won't have to tolerate this particular clown show past March. If there is no mercy to be found, however, we might have to keep doing this until June, in which case you can probably expect the quality of this to take a sharp downturn as the short time we have already spent in this program is already having immediate and catastrophic effects on our mental health.

We do not recommend going to university in any circumstances, but we are unfortunately aware that it may be necessary to get such things as a fancy piece of paper saying you are employable. Additionally, we would tell you to calibrate your expectations for anyone with a degree lower, but apparently what we consider the basic level of knowledge you should know before saying anything on any topic is everyone else's "bachelor degree and a bit", so our estimations on what people think is a high degree of knowledge to have are probably also off.

Any donations go to the Fund To Compensate Us For Having To Correct A Teacher Multiple Times In A Lecture And Then Looking Up Her Sources Later And Discovering They Are Blatant Misinformation. We are very tired. Please do research on things before talking about them. Thank you.

[izzyizumi]

Digimon Adventure ~ Japanese version - Episode 21 vs. 24 ~ Comparisons & Parallels ~ {So-Called} "Cosmic Power" ~ The Digivice {"Seinaru Device"}/{"The Holy Device"} ~ {Adv #21} Taichi's "Contact" with {Adv #24} Koushiro + The Missing Words

"But please contact me once in a while..." - Koushiro, to Taichi

Compare: "It doesn't matter 'how long' it takes!" {to 'find Gennai'} {'Finding Gennai' = learning the Power of the Crest = Finding TAICHI} "I want to Know! I Want to Know!"

Gifs by @izzyizumi / @koushirouizumi​ {Do Not Repost or Reproduce without my Permission} {Do Not Remove Caption} (Please Ask to Use)

Image usage rules under the ‘read more’!

{usage may be allowed IF PERMISSION IS ASKED TO USE.} {However, read my about & FAQ pages first. Please do NOT use / ask if you match anything in my “Do Not Interact” sections.}

{Please also LIKE this post if you are wanting to use*!} {Once you have “Liked”*, feel free to contact me to ask for permission!} (*Note: You will HAVE to contact me directly on your own to ask!!) {However, read my about & FAQ pages first. Please do not use / ask if you match anything in my “Do Not Interact” section.} {I MAY POLITELY DECLINE USAGE. Please do not take it personally!} {if you are unsure if you can use you can SEND ME AN ASK} {I will check your blog; if you do not match anything on my “D.N.I”; [CHECK THE FAQ FOR MY D.N.I (Do Not Interact) SECTION/S] you will likely/may pass the check and can use!} {However please note my ENTIRE FAQ sections on such} {It is possible I may not grant permission for other reasons} [i.e.: You post a lot of something I have blacklisted]

PLEASE ALSO NOTE: {My headcanons for the characters of this series VARY} {for this set particularly; I headcanon most as M-spec/Multi-gender attracted*} {this post/my icons ARE NOT for people who cannot respect this fact or M-spec people / M-spec headcanons / MF relationships in general!}

[rapidhighway]

in a love hate relationship with the way they did knuckles in archie sonic because well. what the fuck. but also this fucking comic is filled with interesting, knuckles centric stories (theyre still so fucked up) and i am so so so hungry

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

Hello hello <3

I need your expertise!! I’m thinking about writing for dc characters, especially titans, but I’m not a dc specialist, my knowledge is very little :(

Should I try or wait to be more educated, and what are your tips on writing dc characters ??

Lots of love ;)

hi hi !!

honestly this is such an exciting ask to get, I'm honoured that you thought of coming to me for advice <3

I would say go for it !! I think a huge part of writing is learning as you go and developing skills / knowledge as you practice. I'm not a dc expert either !! there are a lot of times when I pause my writing to open one of my comics to fact-check or to text a friend who I think knows - honestly, my biggest piece of writing advice (and life advice let's be real lmao) is to never stop yourself from doing something because you don't feel like you're good enough / smart enough / whatever <3

oh oh and tips !! hmmm let's see

for me, personally, I'm much more character driven than plot driven, which I'm sure you can see in my fics ahaha so I always make sure I have a firm image of the character's personality, the reader's personality, and their relationship. most of my planning goes into that dynamic and making sure that I'm pairing the character with a reader who makes sense for them and can give them a compelling story specifically, I always want a reader who will challenge them in some way - i.e. Timmy's reader being, in ways, smarter than him and tripping him up bc of that, Jason's reader having that devotion that he doesn't think he deserves and challenging his lack of self-worth, etc. - I hope you get what I mean !!

to circle back to not being a dc expert, it's still ok !! if you aren't sure about certain aspects of a character's personality, genuinely I always think it's ok to just,,, fill in the gaps by yourself, ya know ? I'm a firm believer that it's fanon, not canon, and if people don't like your characterization / don't like you diverging from canon, then you're writing probably just isn't for them ! and they should read canon content lmao. you're the writer !! you're allowed to take some creative liberties and bend the characters a lil bit to fit your ideas <3

ok ok I know that was a lot !! but I hope it helped a lil <33 and I am always always around if you wanna swing by and ask for input / second opinions / talk abt ideas / whatever !

[renaissanceousia]

ok so i had to make a new acc i just ramble abt books and music and movies etc so idk follow me.. ig?? im gonna tag stuff

[koushirouizumi]

{D I G I M O N} Adventure (Series) ~ REPEAT?_verse vs. Digimon Adventure: [2020 Reboot/Spinoff Anime] (Later Arcs) {Comparing} (Purely for Fun) Lines from my Story vs. Lines BY Toei Animation on Koushiro & Taichi {+Koushiro & Tentomon's Friendship} + The 'DIGITAL' World

"THAT'S {More like...?} [You], Izumi Koushiro." - Datamon

REPEAT?_verse began in 2k18: (In actuality I had begun outlining it by early Apr. 2k18, before Tri had even ENDED.) {"Bokura no Mirai" had not (Yet!) released.} - Adventure: {2k20} Ep. #59 hadn't aired until August 1st 2k21.

[Note: commenting/tagging positively/respectfully is ok!] (Please AGREE TO BANNERS BEFORE interacting) (Note: click on the banners to enlarge!)

If you want to use, Please READ further/under the “read more”!

{usage may be allowed IF PERMISSION IS ASKED TO USE.}

{Please also LIKE this post if you are wanting to use!} {Once you have “Liked”, feel free to contact me to ask for permission!} {However, read my about & FAQ pages first. Please do not use / ask if you match anything in my “Do Not Interact” section.} {I MAY POLITELY DECLINE USAGE. Please do not take it personally!} {if you are unsure if you can use you can SEND ME AN ASK} {I will check your blog; if you do not match anything on my “DNI”; [CHECK THE FAQ FOR MY DNI SECTION/S] you will likely/may pass the check and can use!} {However please note my ENTIRE FAQ sections on such} {It is possible I may not grant permission for other reasons} [i.e.: You post a lot of something I have blacklisted]

PLEASE ALSO NOTE: {My headcanons for the characters of this series VARY} {for this set particularly; I headcanon most as M-spec/Multi-gender attracted*} {this post/my icons ARE NOT for people who cannot respect this fact or M-spec people / M-spec headcanons / MF relationships in general!}

[katboykirby]

GIRL we've actually seen Solomon completely overpower Lucifer in the game?? Like we've witnessed him absolutely rock Lucifer's shit with our own eyeballs live in 4K?? There's literally an entire arc in S3 revolving around having to keep Lucifer safe after Solomon utterly annihilates him and plays him like a damn fiddle like was everyone just playing with their eyes closed? 😭

Pic related it's Solomon's face just after he finishes ruining Lucifer's entire day

[billowyy]

.

[rin-may-1103]

The Wrong Robin Au (part four)

Previous | Master Post | Next

Danny slowed his car down, staring at the black iron gate coming into view; Bats and ivy welded on in an elegant pattern, obviously more thought-out than The Drake's ducks had been. He had to give it to Tim, the kid had been right about how stupid the ducks looked.

Glancing around, Danny found he was completely alone on the dirt road. The gray sky slowly brightened as the sun climbed higher in the distance, trees swaying in the gentle breeze, and birds chirped.

If it hadn't been for his experiences at Vlad's place, he would have found the scenery comforting, maybe even inviting. But the knowledge that this was the home of a billionaire, one that went out at night to fight crime like a furry on crack nonetheless, ruined it.

Maybe he should just head back to the motel...

...

Fuck it, when had Phantom ever backed down? That's right! Never! Danny was going to stick to his metaphorical guns and follow through with his admittedly stupid plan.

Taking his foot off the brake; Danny activated his intangibility, shared it with the car, and drove through the gate. (look, what were his powers for if not to make his life convenient? He deserved it after literally dying for them. AND the gate was probably locked. There was no way he could convince someone to let him in at this time in the morning, so...)

Danny kept an eye on his surroundings as he drove, he doubted Bruce Wayne would have ghost vultures working for him, but that doesn't mean Danny wouldn't be prepared if he did.

Eventually, a large building came into view. Its gothic architecture and obvious timely design set it apart from Vlad's modern monstrosity of a castle. Danny could just tell this was a home for a family with old money; the weathered roof and aged water fountain told stories of the people who used to live there. This was a home, not just a house.

Pulling his car over and parking, Danny quickly sent a mental prayer to the home's ancestors. He hoped they could forgive him for what he was about to do.

Grabbing his backup phone and his keys, Danny tossed the car door open and stepped out. Immediately his senses were clouded with grief and anger. It was so strong he almost lost his footing. The house was just drenched in the emotions, tendrils reaching out and wrapping around anything and everything.

Closing his eyes, Danny held his breath so he could focus on blocking the emotions out. (flashes of someone else's memories rushed past his mind; a glimpse of a young boy sitting in a library reading a book. An older man sitting next to him silently. In another flash, the two were now in a dark cave, the light of a computer the only thing illuminating them as the older man draped a blanket across the boy's back. whispered words of sincere promises echoed in his head.)

He had believed Tim, but he hadn't expected it to be this bad. Ancients, this was worse than when he had to deal with Spectra.

Batman definitely needed therapy.

...

Maybe Jazz should be Robin instead, she'd know how to handle this properly. but Jazz wasn't here right now, she was in Sweden learning all about mental health. Which meant Danny would have to do this himself.

yay.

He had two options; One, he sits down with the man and they have a sincere and very emotional conversation. Or two, he beats it into the guy's head that he needs to stop going out and trying to get himself killed. Based on everything he knows about Batman? It was going to be number two that was going to get results... Well, at least Danny had experience punching things until he got what he wanted. (even if it didn't always work.)

Shaking himself out of his mind, Danny started making his way to the front door. It was past five in the morning, Bruce should be home now. Whether he was sleeping like Danny would assume he usually did, was a different question altogether.

Glancing around the door, Danny found there was a large rope hanging to the left. Vlad had the same thing at his place, it was an old-fashioned doorbell.

shrugging, Danny pulled on the rope and waited.

and waited.

and waited.

After a minute or two, Danny pulled the rope again. Suddenly the door swung open to reveal an older man dressed in a nice waistcoat and trousers.

"Can I help you?" the man asked, a British accent completing the look.

Danny blinked for a second before quickly focusing back on his task. "My name's Danny. Bruce is being a dumbass who needs to take a chill pill and take a step back from hospitalizing criminals. Can I come in?"

It was the old man's turn to stare and blink at him. After a minute, the man stepped back and opened the door, his eyebrow raised. "I would like to see how you plan to tell this to Master Bruce. His office is this way, young man."

"May I ask what exactly you're doing here?" the man asked, closing the door behind Danny.

Danny shrugged, "I'm here to beat some sense into him. He's going to get himself killed and no one wants to see what happens when he does."

The butler, because the rich fruitloop would obviously have one, hummed as he nodded his head in agreement. "I see. Maybe this is what he needs then. he won't listen to me, no matter how much I nag him."

Nothing else was said as he guided Danny through the manor, eventually stopping at a fancy dark wooden door. "Master Bruce, you appear to have a visitor." Then He opened the door and gestured for Danny to enter.

He only had a moment to ponder how he should do this before he entered the room. He should keep his powers hidden, for now at least.

He was greeted with the sight of an exhausted man in a bathrobe sitting at his desk and staring out the window. He was clutching a very worn and loved book in his hands, his brows slightly furrowed. (Danny noted that it was the same book the kid had been reading, The Hero and the Crown... or something like that, Danny hadn't really gotten a good look at the title.)

The butler stepped back, closing the door, and stood next to it to maybe await his new orders. Ones he probably wouldn't get any time soon, if the way Bruce hadn't moved or responded meant anything.

Well, if the old man wanted to see this then who was Danny to stop him?

Stepping forward, Danny leaned over the desk and slapped the back of Bruce's head. The man swiftly turned and stared at him, raising one of his hands to touch his head in shock. Danny heard the butler choke in surprise but ignored him. He could only pray to Clockwork that Bruce didn't kill him for this.

"You are being absolutely idiotic, dude." Danny declared. "Do you think Jason would have wanted you to act like this?" Bruce stood up, his chair slamming into the wall, his eyes burning in anger. "No? Then get your shit together and be the man he would be proud of."

Bruce lunged over the desk, his fist pulled back to hit Danny. It was just like Danny expected, just like Tim had told him, the man was letting his emotions control his actions. Dodging to the side, Danny continued talking, "This going out every night, fighting more and more dangerous and outlandish people all by yourself? It's going to get you killed."

Bruce gave up on trying to punch him, instead, he threw himself forward and body-slammed Danny to the floor. Danny coughed, quickly blocking his face as Bruce took a swing at him. Using the man's blind anger to his advantage, Danny kicked Bruce in the chest and sent him flying into his desk. "Jason's dead. It sucks. and it hurts. It's probably the worst pain you've ever experienced, but there's nothing you can do about it."

Danny glared at the man as he scrambled into a crouch, waiting to see what Bruce did next. "Shut up," the man growled, shoving himself up and away from his desk. He picked up his stapler; he was probably either going to use it as a blunt weapon or throw it at Danny. Widening his stance, Danny got ready to dodge or lunge.

He remembered reading about him, online when he first became Phantom. He remembered reading about Robin and Batman and how they worked together to protect Gotham. How they tirelessly worked day and night to put their rogues away every time they got out again.

He remembered seeing pictures of Batman standing next to little Robin, a proud smile on his face as the police took the criminals away. Pictures of the man helping and protecting Robin whenever the boy couldn't handle whatever mess he had gotten into. There was even a memorable one of Batman scolding an obviously sheepish Robin, a knocked-out Riddler slumped behind him.

He had wished so badly for someone to help him back them, for someone to be his Batman when times got hard. He remembered how devastated he was when it turned out the only person like him was Vlad. Vlad, who had wanted to murder his father and marry his mother. Vlad, who had overshadowed people to gain more wealth and power. Vlad, who hadn't seen how wrong it was to try and clone him.

He remembered the comments and videos from the citizens of Gotham, cheering for their heroes when they succeeded in capturing the rogues. How they still supported them when they failed. It was nothing like Amity's reaction to him.

He remembered how Gothom reacted when Robin was pronounced dead. How the city had cried and raged. He felt it all the way over in Amity, the grief and anger. The whole city had come together to mourn the boy who protected them. Even two years later, Danny could still feel the echoes.

"Jason's dead. He's dead and gone and you're letting yourself get consumed with your grief. but you made a promise Bruce."

Danny knew he had, it was the same promise Danny had made just four years ago.

Bruce's eyes widened and the anger that was surging in his eyes froze for just a moment. His hand loosened around the stapler but didn't let it go. The butler looked concerned, unsure if he should interfere or not.

"You made a promise all those years ago when you first dawned that stupid bat suit. You promised to do everything in your power to help your city. To protect it. Robin made the same promise. When he took up his suit. They both did."

Bruce's jaw tensed, his eyes narrowing. Danny lowered his body, still ready to dodge at a moment's notice.

"You made a promise to your son, Bruce. Even if he didn't know it. One that you couldn't keep."

Bruce threw the stapler, making Danny jump to the side to dodge it. His mistake was not keeping an eye on what Bruce did after throwing it. The man quickly rushed up to him, eyes blazing in anger. "You don't know anything!" he cried, his fist slamming into Danny's jaw. Danny staggered back but ducked under the next punch.

"I lost my son! I wasn't there!" Bruce shouted, kicking Danny's legs out from under him. Danny's back hit the floor, knocking the breath out of him. Bruce followed him down, breaking his nose with another punch to the face. "I promised I would protect him and I wasn't there!"

Danny growled, catching Bruce's fist in his hand and sending a punch at the side of Bruce's head. Bruce tried to lean back, Danny's fist clipping his forehead. Bruce grunted, reaching up to grab Danny's fist to keep him from punching him again.

"You couldn't protect him! I get it, it sucks!" Danny shouted back, flashes of Dani's melting form grasping at his shirt in panic pulled to the front of his mind. "It leaves a black hole in the center of your chest! It sucks all the warmth out of you, leaving only the cold bitter knowledge that you couldn't save him!" (that he couldn't save her)

Bruce pulled his fist out of Danny's hand, slamming his elbow down into Danny's chest and twisting Danny's right arm sharply in an attempt to break it. Danny kept talking though, ignoring the pain as he pulled his arm out of Bruce's grasp, "But Jason made a promise! and you're doing nothing to keep it!"

Danny grabbed onto Bruce's bathrobe and flipped them so Bruce was the one on the floor now. Quickly reaching up, Danny grabbed both of Bruce's hands and held them as still as he could. Bruce was strong, but Danny had years of fighting Skulker and the other super-strong ghosts under his belt. "He made that promise knowing that you had made the same one!"

Bruce growled, throwing his head up in an attempt to hit Danny with it. Danny leaned back, accidentally loosening his grip just enough for Bruce to break out of it. Bruce shoved him off of him, making Danny slide back and hit a chair.

Grunting, Danny stood up and lunged at Bruce. Bruce dodged to the side, dropping down to pick the stapler back up. "I can't claim to know what Jason would have wanted," Danny spat, backing up to give himself more space as Bruce stepped toward him. "but I know as someone who made the same promise, I wouldn't have wanted you to change into what you are now!"

Bruce narrowed his eyes at Danny, "Yeah, and what's that?" he growled.

"A careless, suicidal, moron," Danny growled back.

Bruce froze, stopping in place as he stared at Danny.

Danny took his chance to drive his point home; standing up straight, he raised his hands up in surrender. "He was your son. He looked up to you for protection. For guidance. And sure, maybe you weren't the best dad, and maybe you made mistakes. But you were his dad."

Danny stepped forward, watching as the butler stepped forward to reach out to the man. "and what kind of son would want his dad to kill himself?"

Bruce dropped his stapler, his eyes falling to the ground and catching onto the book he had dropped earlier. It was opened to the front page, written words in messy writing covering it.

"You need to stop, Bruce," Danny said, slowly crouching down and reaching out for the book. Bruce watched him as he stood up, the book still open to the front page in his hands. Jason's writing visible to all of them.

"you couldn't keep your promise to protect him. It sucks and it hurts. but you can keep his promise. The same promise you made all those years ago."

Bruce looked up at him, his blue eyes filling with tears, the butler's hand resting on his shoulder. Danny stepped forward again, holding the book out for Bruce to take.

"You can't protect Gotham if you're dead."

Jason's handwritten note stared up at them, the ink messy and smudged.

'to the best dad in the world and the many adventures we'll go on!'

and Bruce? Bruce crumbled to the floor with a sob, leaving Danny to stand in front of him. Blood running down his face, staining his hoodie and pink Hello Kitty pants, the book still held out with steady hands.

Next

[bloddysnow]

Summary: You are an emperor, and you have your own harem consisting of four consorts.

Pairings: Sub! Bottom! Zayne/Sylus/Rafayel/Xavier x Dom! Top! Gn! Reader

nsfw minors dni

They have different features and characters, each of which is a unique combination of beauty, strength and charm.

The first consort, Zayne was a skillful healer, known for his wisdom and insight. He was not only handsome, but also smart. His knowledge of herbs and medicines helped to keep you in good health, helping to stay full of strength and energy. He often gave you valuable advice in governing the state. He had a refined taste and exquisite grace. His outfits have always been made with elegance.

The second consort, Rafayel, has a passionate temperament and burning beauty. Something about him always makes him the center of attention in any room. He chooses the most precious fabrics and jewelry to emphasize his beauty. Rafayel spends his days perfecting the art of dance, demonstrating flexibility and ability to control his body. He was not only a talented dancer, but also a skillful musician. In the evenings, he plays the lyre, hoping to attract you with melodic sounds and his angelic voice. His talent was known far beyond the palace.

The third consort, Sylus is famous for his wisdom and deep knowledge of poetry and philosophy. Passion and temptation permeates his every movement and every word. His eyes burn with the fire of thirst, giving mystery. He is also a master of martial arts. His grace and dexterity delighted everyone who saw his training. He often quotes poems and philosophical thoughts, hoping to win your heart through mind and soul.

The fourth consort, Xavier is known for his innocence and sincerity. He wears light and bright outfits that emphasize his young beauty. Its beauty is emphasized by simplicity and naturalness. He likes to walk in the garden and pick flowers. He wants to attract you with his purity and innocence. His room is filled with the scents of fresh flowers and the soft light of candles since he every evening hopes that you’ll want to visit him.

They dress up in frank clothes that barely cover their bodies to better demonstrate the traces of your caresses - dark spots and red marks from love bites that cover their delicate skin with a marble pattern. Every sign you leave is considered a pride, and they do not hide them under their makeup, but show them out.

At public meetings, banquets, parties and most social events, your consorts properly stand right behind your back and will always accompany you. Their presence behind your back symbolized the unity and strength of the imperial family. They’ll hide their faces under face veil, leaving only their eyes open. Since childhood, they have been taught that their bodies belong only to the emperor, and this knowledge is deeply rooted in their minds. Because of this, they cannot get physical pleasure on their own, knowing that their purpose is to serve only you.

As an emperor, you are aware of the importance of fair and respectful treatment of your consorts. And you try to pay equal attention to them all, making sure that each of them feels loved and valuable.

Evenings in the garden with Xavier have become an oasis of calm and happiness for you. The garden has an atmosphere of peace and harmony created by the rustle of foliage, the singing of birds and the quiet murmur of the fountain. Xavier brings the book he chose in advance and sits on the soft grass under the shade of an old oak leaning against it. You settle down next to him, putting your head on his lap. His hands begin to gently stroke your hair. He opens the book and starts reading aloud. His voice, soft and expressive, fills the space around you. Closing your eyes, you enjoy every minute spent with him.

Sylus often asks you to practice with him. One of your rules was the following: if he wins, you will fulfill any of his wishes. He attacks quickly and deftly, trying to find vulnerabilities. You, in turn, fight back, always trying to keep a balance between defense and attack. However, despite his aspiration and skills, he has never managed to defeat you. You are always one step ahead. You know that the real goal of these trainings is not victory, but time spent together. And this ends with Sylus breathing heavily with his hands around your neck, feeling the warmth of your body. Your hands wrap around his waist, pulling him closer. His lips are warm, persistent, conveying all the passion that he may have been holding back for a long time.

Rafayel, dressed in light silk clothes, slowly goes to the center of the hall, illuminated by the soft light of candles. The sounds of darbuka and qanun begin to fill the space. Smooth waves run through his body, starting from his hips and rising up his spine. He skillfully uses his shoulders. His hands gently twist, repeating the curves of the melody, and his fingers touch the invisible strings, adding a touch of magic to the dance. His hips make graceful movements, synchronously swaying in the rhythm of melody. His body is the true perfection of beauty. Each muscle contraction, each movement emphasizes the ideal lines of his figure. The light of candles plays on his skin, creating a game of shadows and emphasizing every muscle. When he looks at you, it seems that time stops. His eyes are full of depth and passion, you can drown in them, forgetting about everything in the world. It's like they bewitched you, and you can't take your eyes off him. They reflect the whole world, full of mysteries and secrets that he is ready to share only with you.

In the majestic imperial palace, immersed in luxury and splendor, your life was surrounded by Zayne's care and attention. Not trusting the servants, Zayne personally followed every aspect of your daily life. It was his personal privilege and duty that he was proud of. Taking care of the emperor gave him some pleasure. He chooses your outfit for the day, also takes care of your hairstyle, skillfully styling your hair and giving it a neat look. He makes sure that consorts didn't bother you and asks you every night if you wanted to visit someone's quarters. Zayne takes care of his emperor with awe and love, trying to protect you from all possible troubles and worries. As a sign of gratitude for his tireless care and devotion, you often took his hands in your own and gratefully kiss them. Zayne was always embarrassed at these moments, looking away.

Their hearts are pounding in anticipation of your next choice, and each of them is eager to be in emperor’s quarters again. When they find themselves in your bed, their moans and screams become loud and passionate, breaking the silence of the night. It's not only an expression of their pleasure, but also a way to show others your closeness to them. They cry, clutching your cock buried deep inside them, and whisper through tears: "I'm y-your favorite, right?" Their voices tremble with emotions, and their hearts beat in the hope of confirming their uniqueness and love.

Their bellies become swollen from the amount of sperm inside their wombs. When you gently press on their stomach, white sperm flows out of their hole, and they whine, asking you not to waste it. Each of them dreams of giving birth to the first heir, who will strengthen his position in the harem and give him power and respect.

[heohl-art]

I DREAMT THIS (and I HAD TO draw it and share it with the world😭✨)! Get ready to C-R-Y!

• Sleep Dearie Sleep, 1916 •

I'm ✨SO PROUD✨ of this one!😭🩷

Attention: ANGST!

World War I.

Anthony J. Crowley leaves to fight in France. After a year, he is wounded and ends up in the infirmary. There he meets the field doctor Aziraphale Fell, who heals his wounds and somehow manages to warm his heart. He falls in love with him, but he's unable to tell him anything. So, every night in the trenches - when it rains water, fire or mud - he writes letters. Letters and letters that will never arrive.

The war becomes more and more violent, as do his feelings. He steals Aziraphale's fountain pen, then his photograph from the infirmary tent. He puts it in his wallet, to keep it close to his heart.

Each day he advances on the battlefield, he vows to deliver those letters to Aziraphale's caring and gentle hands, but each time he returns, he fails to keep his oath.

One day, the last time he sees the sun touch the ground, he loses his life. In his last moments, the only thing he cares about is not letting blood stain Aziraphale's photograph.

The last thing he sees, just before drifting off to eternal sleep, is Aziraphale's smile.

Two days later, a corporal reaches the medical tent and hands Aziraphale Crowley's last item.

Crowley always thought his love was unrequited, but Aziraphale fell in love with him too, a year earlier, the first time he saw Crowley, playing with a stray kitten and a tender smile.

🩷

That's what happens when I rewatch 1917, War Horse and All Quiet on the Western Front all in one day.

(I had this dream, it was so vivid, I HAD TO put into an artwork. I have no regrets✨)

Bonus: ✨details✨

1. Crowley stole Aziraphale's fountain pen (it has his surname engraved) to write him letters.

2. He keep those letters into his wallet, close to his heart.

3.He also stole Aziraphale's photograph (it's the last thing he saw).

4. Once it's returned to him (together with the letters) Aziraphale sees behind his photo, Crowley's last promise. The one he couldn't keep.

5. Crowley always thought his love was one-sided.

6. But Aziraphale actually fell for him first, after seeing him playing with a cat, a long time before.

✨

HERE THE FULL LETTER💌✨:

Nov 2, 1916

My dear Angel,

As I sit here in the cold embrace of this ditch, the distant echoes of battle remind me of how fleeting moments are. Each day feels like a cruel gift, and yet your sight warms me against the chill. I find solace in thoughts of your gentle hards, the way they skillfully mend wounds while my heart aches for a different kind of healing.

You may never know the depth of my devotion admiration, how your laughter dances through my mind like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.

In this world torn apart by war, you are a fragile thread connecting me to something beautiful.

Should fate be unkind and silence fall upon me, remember that affect friendshi love can bloom even in the darkest fields.

If I do not return today, carry with you the knowledge that you were my light amidst shadows, a truth I cherished silently but deeply.

Yours always,

Anthony

[darkmuffinstudios]

headcanons/delusions that i have for the bad sanses part 86 because i'm not normal

(apologies for the length this post will be. I needed to write all of these down or I would explode <3)

(These can be general headcanons, found family, queer platonic, or poly if you want to interpret them in any way ^^)

All of them. Every single one is touch-starved.

Despite all being touch starved, all of them have different (typically negative) responses to being touched suddenly/without warning.

Killer's love language is touch, both giving and receiving (funnily enough).

He also has a habit of sneaking up on the others. This is half-unintentional, since he's light on his feet naturally and makes no sound whenever he walks.

For no coincidence at all, Killer also has been thrown the most by the gang.

He doesn't resent them for it at all.

Cross wears his old uniform (despite his initial dislike for the design) a lot. He claims its out of habit, but deep down, it's because it *proves* that he was worth something once. It's his accomplishment as a royal guard, and that's something that despite the bitterness of the job, he takes pride in. Yes, he still hates the design, and yes, he hates how complicated it is. But he also appreciates the attention to detail, how meticulous and organized you have to be to put it on.

If the last bullet point didn't emphasize enough, Cross has self-worth problems.

So does Killer, but he's accepted it.

Nightmare has a catacomb of trinkets and items alike that has grown sentimental value over the years. He visits there when he's feeling particularly nostalgic, usually in the quiet of the night.

Dust doesn't like seeing his own bones. Gloves, long sleeves, scarves, hoods, slippers and socks- nothing can show. It's probably because of all the dust that practically clung to him from all the people he's killed. It's stained his fingers, his knuckles, his feet.

Horror's eye can actually roll to the other side of his head if he tilts his head enough. No, it isn't painful.

Something very stupid that Horror does (rarely) is he stores small things in the hole in his head. Yes, that one can hurt if forgotten.

Killer has so many cats that it's a problem. Nightmare can't bring himself to make him get rid of any though.

Dust has trained a murder of crows in Nightmare's realm. They follow him in the trees whenever he goes out to walk, and he keeps small pieces of food from his dinners to feed them.

Cross cannot, for the life of him, hide whenever he feels embarrassed (and he feels this often).

Not to say Cross can't mask his emotions. You know, with all the royal guard training and all. And the trauma.

Nightmare suffers from chronic insomnia. He can't bring himself to relax enough to. Although, he doesn't mind mimicking the behavior when he naps with any of the guys, if only to encourage them to sleep.

Nightmare feels safer when sleeping near or with someone in his bed. I'd say its because he probably got jumped as a kid whenever he slept. They're all long dead, but do it enough and the body never forgets.

Killer always picks up small little gifts for the guys every time he goes out. He'll look at something and go "Hey, he'd like that", and nab it. Probably a behavior he picked up when Nightmare first brought him on, since he noticed Nightmare liked to collect things.

Cross's love language is receiving gifts and words of affirmation. (haha). Everyone has picked up on this already, and abuses this knowledge to no end.

Horror waits for everyone to start eating before he eats his own food.

Horror also always carries emergency snacks/food bags with him wherever he goes. Not necessarily for himself though.

Dust loves pancakes. His mood immediately improves if he eats them.

Killer has a large scar that never quite healed right.

Nightmare used to write with a feathered quill. Killer had gotten him a very nice fountain pen long ago though, and he's since abandoned the quill.

Horror has a garden in the back that Nightmare helps him out with. Horror was more interested in crops and harvest, while Nightmare was particularly fond of flowers and trees.

Dust, Killer, and Cross help out with the garden sometimes. They just don't maintain it as diligently as the aforementioned two.

Dust paints. Killer joked about it being therapeutic and artsy and shit, but Dust actually ended up liking it. He could finally express the mess inside his head without any words.

Dust has his own painting room in a part of the castle. It has lots of windows and art hung on the walls.

All the gang occasionally visit Dust while he paints, most simply sitting and watching the brushstrokes. The only one that has actually also drew in that room was Cross. Dust and Cross kind of bond like that.

Cross helps the most with cooking. Horror typically likes to be in charge of the meals/food in the house, but greatly appreciates Cross's help. He feels he's the most reliable, anyways.

Killer does whittling/woodcarving. He makes little figures, knives, intricate pieces, coasters, kitchen tools, etc. His favorite to make is little cat figurines though.

Cross's room is the most clean/organized/empty. Unlike the others, he didn't customize his room in the slightest (keeping the bare minimum of bed, dresser, shelves, etc.).

It is the MTT's mission to fill Cross's room with so many things. Dust gifts Cross paintings to hang on his wall. Killer places little wooden cats on his shelves. Horror places a secret snack stash for Cross, and continually resupplies it.

Nightmare can play a lot of instruments, actually.

Killer has begged on his knees (dramatically of course) to hear Nightmare play ever since he found this out (which was before any of the others even joined). Nightmare doesn't humor him though.

For the life of him, Killer cannot sing. It makes him so mad. Like, he's off-pitch, tone-deaf, off-beat.

Which is funny since I think all the others can sing very well. Horror hums in the kitchen sometimes, Dust sings quietly to himself in his room, Cross is too shy to sing but can, and Nightmare is just musically inclined.

Killer is a little insecure about it.

Okay, he's very insecure about it, but that doesn't stop him from belting out his favorite song like a fool. Like, he understands he's bad, and accepts that fact whenever he's feeling extra confident. But the times he isn't... yeah.

Horror likes it when someone naps on him. Free weighted blanket.

Dust often naps in the weirdest places. In closets, in the wedge between a table and couch, on a high-window sill.

Dust also has back problems. I wonder why.

(A personal favorite of mine: ) Nightmare keeps someone to his right/keeps his tentacles to the right of himself. Since he lost his eye, he has quite the large blind spot, hence why he compensates for it with one of his boys/his tentacles.

Nightmare isn't actually all that athletic. Whenever they all go out, he's always the one that gets left behind the most.

Cross has a habit of matching the walking pace of the person he's with.

Horror can pick up all of them. Very easily. With one hand. Not all at once, of course, but if Dust or Killer are trying to sneak some snacks before dinner, he grabs them by the scruff of their jackets.

Horror lets Cross eat snacks though (encourages it, even. Bro should probably eat more).

Nightmare is a tea-holic. He has a large supply of all of his favorites in the kitchen cupboards. He keeps medicinal ones in both the kitchen and infirmary. They have several kettles. He collects tea sets.

Killer is the best at making tea. Something about his attention to detail, as Nightmare puts it.

The only person that drinks coffee regularly in the castle is Dust. He needs it to deal with everyday bullshit. Coffee makes Cross, Killer, and Horror too antsy. Nightmare sometimes drinks coffee, but not often.

Both Horror and Dust hate it when you change the laundry detergent. They are very particular about the smell. They very much like the scents they chose, thank you very much.

I HIT THE WORD LIMIT??????

I didn't even realize I was writing that much, but I guess I got pretty carried away, haha.

This was downright therapeutic though- I might to this again soon/some other time ^^

[moonstruckme]

wearing spencers clothes🤯🤯 the boy would not be able to focus!!!! i love all of your work btw!! you're single handedly encouraging me back into my marauders phase❤️

Then my scheme is working ! Thanks for requesting babe :)

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Spencer has to force himself out of bed so you don’t wake up to him staring at you. Also, so he has time away from you to get himself together. 

He’s never felt so much like skipping before. As soon as he’s in the kitchen, full to bursting with the knowledge that you’re asleep one room over, his smile is unshakable. It’s embarrassing, honestly, he’s like a high schooler. You can’t see him like this. He starts going through the kitchen to see what’s not expired. Ketchup, hummus, bread, muffin mix (too risky), mattar paneer (not a very good breakfast), eggs. Spencer can work with eggs. He has to double-check that he has both salt and pepper, but he’s good to go.  

He pops bread in the toaster once he hears you moving around, a giddy flare of anticipation shooting up through his middle. You’ve never stayed over before, and Spencer didn’t have any time to prepare. He only has one hand towel, which you seem fine with sharing and he’s going to pop in the washing machine as soon as you leave, and only one toothbrush. He feels bad that you have to brush your teeth with your finger. If you deem him worthy of a next time, he tells himself, he’ll be ready then. 

He hears the quiet padding of your footsteps but forces himself not to turn around until you say, “Morning.” 

Your voice is stretched with sleep, and when Spencer turns around he can see it still lingering in your face. Your eyelids are droopy, weighted down, and your hair looks like you’ve tried to run your fingers through it but couldn’t quite get it to behave, and you’re—that’s his sweater vest. You’re wearing his sweater vest. 

He must be staring, because you look down at it, your expression going sheepish. “Sorry, is this okay? I know you’re sort of particular about germs, but I didn’t want to just come out here naked, and I really didn’t feel like putting on my jeans…” 

Spencer shakes his head quickly. “No, it’s fine.”

All the stuff you’d done last night, and you think he’s going to be fussy about your germs on his clothes? This is a completely different kind of upset. You’re—you look—well, you look like something Spencer dreamed up. You look like comfort and sweetness and Sunday morning. 

“Okay, thanks.” You smile. Spencer thinks that if he were hooked up to a transducer, you’d actually be able to see the rush of dopamine to his brain. “It’s lucky you’re so tall, this fits me like a dress.” 

A small dress, but sure. “I also have a disproportionately long torso,” he blurts. “My legs aren’t as long as they should be for my height, so my shirts and vests are longer than average.” 

You nod like everything he’s just said made perfect and socially acceptable sense. The toast pops up and Spencer jolts a little, remembering to push the eggs around in the pan a bit. 

A little smile tilts your lips, and you lean back against the counter behind him. “Are you making us breakfast?” 

“Mhm.” 

The smile spreads, your eyes going soft. “That’s so sweet of you,” you say warmly. “Thanks, Spence.” 

“I can’t really cook,” he warns you. “I mean, I can usually do eggs, but only scrambled and even then I might…just don’t thank me yet.” 

A little laugh spurts out of you. It reminds Spencer of the fountain in front of his work, of water sparkling in the sun. “Okay,” you say, “do you want any help?”

“It’s probably best if whatever happens is undeniably my fault.”

You laugh again. He wonders what he can do to make that keep happening. 

“Fair enough.” You push off the counter, headed towards the door. “Do you get the newspaper?” 

For a second, Spencer’s too busy watching you go to remember if he does. “Y—yeah. It should be here by now,” he says. 

He hears the door open, and then, “Perfect.” You come back brandishing the rolled-up paper, discarding the rubber band in his trash bin. “Do you mind if we do your crossword? You seem like you’d be so good at that.” 

Spencer actually stopped doing the crossword years ago—the pop culture references he didn’t get, and the rest were too easy—but he’ll do it if it might impress you. 

“Sure, let’s try.” 

“Okay.” You grab a pen from the coffee table, spreading the paper open on the countertop. “Wyoming’s state sport, five—”

“Rodeo,” Spencer says. It takes him a beat to realize he cut you off. He turns, grimace in place and apology on his lips. “Sorry.” 

But you’re grinning. You shake your head a little bit, pride or admiration or a bit of both, and write it down. You push a piece of hair away from your face. Spencer’s eyes get caught on the wool of his sweater vest where it brushes your collarbone. 

“African river to the Mediterranean, four letters. That’s the Nile, right?” 

The garment seems to shift with every tiny movement. Sliding atop your shoulders, moving about your neckline, the soft material skimming your ribs. Under the counter, it has to be bunched underneath your thighs. 

“Spence?” 

“Hm?” He forces his gaze up. “Yeah, the Nile.” 

“Thanks.” Your eyes linger on him a second too long before you bend back over the paper, a knowing smile playing on the corner of your lips. “Okay, and eagle claw in five letters is talon, right? Oh, um, eggs.” 

Spencer’s brow wrinkles. “How many letters?” 

“No, Spence.” You laugh, sliding out of your seat. You tug his sweater down a bit as you walk over, the band at the bottom hugging your thighs. “The eggs. Your eggs.” 

He turns, registering the smell of smoke before the sight of the crispy, blackened eggs in his pan. “Oh.” 

You reach past him, elbow bumping his as you switch off the heat. Spencer moves the hot pan away from you quickly. He scrapes his sorry eggs into the trash bin, setting the pan in the sink.

“Sorry, I got distracted by the crossword,” he tells you, and though he suspects you catch the lie you’re kind enough not to call him out on it. 

“It’s fine.” You shoot him another of those brilliant, beaming smiles, taking a piece of cold toast from the toaster. “I love toast. Do you have any butter or jam or anything?” 

Spencer winces. “Not really…” 

You laugh, giving his arm a reassuring pat. “No worries. I’m down for a trip to the store if you are.” He nods sheepishly, and you press your lips together, thoughtful. “I think I might change first, though.”