#…embellishments yes.

[togament]

when…whene ehe….. hhe……

[dailymanners]

Being civil =/= being two faced. If you have to regularly see and deal with someone, such as a roommate, co-worker or other type of work associate such as a supplier, classmate, etc. If you don't like them or have personal qualms with them, for the sake of everyone around you be civil with them.

Of course this isn't about abusers or people who make you feel unsafe. This is about people who you just don't get along with or you just find to be annoying.

If you're uncivil with someone you regularly need to be around, you are making the environment worse for everyone around you including the co-workers and classmates you might actually like and get along with. Few people find it comfortable to even have to be in the vicinity of people being uncivil with each other.

Why make the whole atmosphere of your home, workplace, classroom, etc. uncomfortable for everyone there just because you don't like someone or have personal qualms with them? Don't drag others into your personal mess with your co-worker or roommate etc.

Of course you can still assert boundaries while being civil with someone. In fact you should, in a civil manner, keep your boundaries up. That's the difference between "Sorry Guðmundur, I appreciate your offer for me to join you for lunch but I'll have to pass" vs "Oh like hell am I going to join you for lunch after what you said about me at the staff party Guðmundur!" the former is just being a civil adult, while the latter is making an uncivil environment that is likely going to make your other co-workers uncomfortable.

[sinigangrobot]

I miss drawing damian

[grimalkinmessor]

Aideku with blood (smut) 🙏❤️

Sorry this took so long, smut is hard 🥲How about a vamp AU? :3 Warnings in the tags ✨

Aideku/Smut/Blood

———

Izuku is nervous.

"Don't be such a pussy, Deku," Tsubasa jeers, shoving him forward. The mausoleum looms in front of them, haloed by the setting sun. "It's one night."

"Yeah, you can handle one night in an empty building, can't you?" Neiru laughs. "Or...mostly empty, anyway. Aside from a few corpses."

Izuku swallows. "I-I can do it! I just—"

"Good," Neiru interrupts, stepping up to open the big stone door. It opens with a grating moan, a vast expanse of black yawning beyond it. Neiru gives a mocking bow. "In you go then!"

Nails biting into his palms, Izuku sets his jaw. "...I do this, and you'll give me my picture back?"

Tsubasa throws an arm around Izuku's shoulders, leaning in close and making his skin crawl. "Aw c'mon, Deku, we're friends, right?"

They haven't been friends in years.

"It's just a little game. The picture's just insurance that you won't chicken out. We'll give it back if you make it the whole night without bailing."

Izuku doesn't believe him. But what choice does he have? If he refuses, he doubts they'll hand it over—it's more likely that they'll rip it up right in front of him. Besides, Izuku is less concerned about spending the night in a mausoleum than he is Tsubasa and Neiru letting him out in the morning.

But even if they don't, Izuku is crafty. He'll figure it out.

Tightening his hold on his backpack, Izuku strides forward into the tomb.

"Finally! Thought we'd have to throw you in," Tsubasa complains, and Neiru snickers as he begins to push the door shut.

"Have fun, Deku!"

Before Izuku can even reply, the door thuds shut, and the bar scrapes back into place over it from the outside. Izuku waits a moment before fumbling for his phone, turning on the flashlight to get a good look around. It's not that big of a space really, but it's full of cobwebs and coated in a thick layer of dust. It's clear that these ancestors haven't been visited in a very long time. There's about six plaques on either wall, some of them so old that the kanji has worn down so much he can't make out the names. They're so old that Izuku wouldn't be surprised if there were actual bodies behind those plaques rather than just urns full of ash.

And speaking of bodies—the biggest thing in the room is the long stone slab directly opposite the door. It has no plaque on it, but the seam between the heavy stone lid tells Izuku that it's likely a coffin, which means that he really is locked in here with a corpse.

Izuku gulps. It's fine. It's fine. He can handle this. There's nothing to be afraid of.

Shaking his head, Izuku finds a fairly clean spot in the middle of the room and sits down, shrugging off his backpack to rifle through it. First things first; he pulls out his actual flashlight, shutting his phone off to preserve the battery. He clicks his flashlight on and sets it on the floor like a tiny lamp, before tugging out one of his textbooks. Might as well get some work done while he's stuck here.

He's almost out of high school now, looking into nearby colleges so he can stay close to his mother—which makes it all the more pathetic that he's still getting pushed around by people like Tsubasa and Neiru. Granted, it's not as bad as it used to be, but it's still irritating.

Izuku tries to ignore his surroundings as he works his way through the next chapter, gnawing on his pen and occasionally jotting down notes in the margins. This works for a while; he manages to make his way through two whole chapters without much trouble. He loses track of time a bit, until—

—something skitters across his foot.

Izuku shrieks, throwing himself back on instinct, leg flailing as he tries to stand only to end up toppling harshly against the casket behind him. Yelping, Izuku crashes back to the ground, clutching his shoulder with a wince. It throbs when he touches it, and he hisses quietly. That's going to bruise.

Grabbing blindly for his flashlight, Izuku staggers back to his feet and looks around for whatever just tried to climb his pants leg. He sees a spider the size of his hand sprint into a crack in the wall, and Izuku shudders, making a soft 'blegh' sound.

Swinging the light around slowly, Izuku freezes when he realizes that his flailing has pushed the lid of the stone casket aside. "Sh-shit," Izuku whispers, anxiety spiking. He sets the flashlight down again, face up, the light dispersing throughout the tomb enough to give the place a dim glow. "Shit, shit, shit—"

Hands shaking, Izuku approaches the cracked casket and tentatively peers inside. He expects to see some withered husk of a thing, or maybe nothing but bones and dust given how old this tomb seems—he's very much not expecting what looks like the perfectly preserved corpse of a man who couldn't have died more than a year ago.

Izuku blinks, squinting. The flashlight glow is dim, but from what he can see it's a man with long, dark hair and a riot of stubble. The white and black yukata he's wearing is shockingly pristine, pale hands folded calmly over his stomach. There are no signs of decay at all, not beyond the ashen white of the corpse's skin. Unable to help himself, curiosity ad incredulity flaring, Izuku reaches forward and touches the man's cheek. The flesh is stone cold—not quite icy, but certainly not full of warmth. There's a bit of give there too, the flesh porcelain but still somehow soft.

Brow furrowing, Izuku slides his hand down to press two fingers to the corpse's white neck. He's no sure whether he's surprised or relieved to find no pulse.

Izuku barely has time to register this however, because mere seconds later a hand snaps out and fists in his uniform jacket, yanking him down and in to the coffin. Izuku yelps, panic spiking, as he crashes onto the cool body settled in the slab, mouth opening to scream as the stone lid of the casket slams back into place.

But no sound escapes his mouth, because in the sudden darkness he feels teeth slice into his throat—before pleasure overtakes him.

Izuku gapes at nothing as a solid arm latches around his waist, tight enough to bruise and yet somehow still seeming absentminded. The subtle rasp of stubble rubs against his neck, and Izuku smells the faint scent of blood as lips move and hum quietly against his pulse. The electrifying feeling of heat spiders out from the point of contact, spreading through Izuku's body and pooling in his gut. Izuku's eyes flutter, a weak noise escaping his mouth as his hands flex and paw at the chest of the-the thing beneath him. He's not sure whether he means to push it away, or draw it closer.

Izuku feels his blood spilling slowly down his neck, thick and hot, and the pieces slot together in his bewildered, fuzzy mind.

Vampire.

He is locked in a tomb—a coffin—with a monster of legends. It's feeding off of him, stealing his blood, likely killing him...

But Izuku can barely bring himself to care.

A ragged groan scrapes out of his throat as the vampire sucks out his lifeblood, ecstasy filling him in its place. He feels his cock stiffen, pressing tight against the seam of his pants as Izuku's eyes roll back in delirious elan. Through the haze, his ever analytical mind notes that the man's hands are skating up and down his sides, one fisting loosely in his hair to pin his head at a better angle. The chill of the corpse's skin is slowly being replaced by warmth, siphoning off Izuku's body heat as well as his blood.

Izuku gasps as a leg juts up beneath him, a muscled thigh slipping in between his legs and pressing against his erection. The pressure makes him tremble, little hiccups of sound lilting out of his mouth as he instinctively rocks his hips down in helpless little jerks, each movement giving him another jolt of pleasure.

A tongue swipes over his bloodied neck, the white-hot bliss of those teeth leaving him for a moment as the monster beneath him cleans him up. Izuku whines at the loss, a quiet desperation striking through him.

'No, no, come back, I'm almost...'

He moans shakily as he feels those fangs pierce the other side of his neck, drawing out his blood and sending him high once more.

"A virgin...?" a low voice purrs, sleepy and bemused and...in his head?

The hands on him tighten, and Izuku whimpers as it sends another spike of arousal through him. He has the vague sense of shame, of embarrassment, at the way he's humping the man's leg, rubbing the tent in his old jeans against the silky white fabric of the man's yukata—but it's a faint sensation. His anxiety is drowned out by the sheer amount of ecstasy coursing through him. Izuku feels it building in his stomach, coiling in his gut as his toes curl and his thighs clamp tight around the muscled thigh beneath him.

He's close, he so close, he—

Red glow fills the space, casting the figure beneath him in a crimson haze. His eyes are a brilliant, luminous scarlet, and the light of them makes the blood painting his mouth look black.

"Your lust..." the man rasps, hands skating up and down to fasten around Izuku's hips. His voice is low and wet, and Izuku can smell his own blood on his breath. "I can taste it."

Then the monster yanks Izuku's hips down, forcing him to grind up against the man's stomach. Izuku cries out, sobbing as the force, the crush, the smell sends him toppling over the edge of orgasm. He cums so hard his vision goes white, mouth open in a soundless wail as wave after wave of pleasure crests over him, shocking up his spine and curling in his scalp. He forgets to breathe for several precious moments, knocked breathless by it.

Vaguely, he feels the man's mouth on him again, trailing his tongue against the newest wound. Izuku's eyes flutter, and he collapses fully on top of him, lost in the afterglow. He's not sure whether the dizziness he feels is because of his orgasm or the blood loss, and he's not sure he particularly cares either. His limbs feel like jello.

"Mm, you're type O," that low voice muses, a hand trailing up and down Izuku's spine. "I thought it was merely that I hadn't fed in so long, but it's no wonder. Best way I've woken up in a long time." The hand pauses, and the red glow now saturating the inside of the coffin flickers. "Mind telling me what year it is?"

"It's..." Izuku begins, the question booting his brain back into gear. His thoughts begin to race as he blinks rapidly to clear his head, a myriad of questions and emotions and reactions flashing across his mind in quick succession. "I-It's 2237."

"A little over four hundred years this time," the man murmurs, brow furrowing in contemplation. "Odd. Someone usually wakes me up every turn of the century."

"U-Um, sir," Izuku tries after a moment, wriggling in mortification when he feels the mess he's made in his pants. "Can you, um, let me out now? If y-you're not going to finish me off?"

'Why would you ask that, WHY would you—'

"I would," the monster begins absently, licking a stray trail of Izuku's blood from the corner of his lips. He's looking at the faintest trickle of light that can be seen from the seam of the stone lid. "But it seems like it's still daylight out. The mausoleum must've collapsed..."

Izuku attempts to push himself up, but the idle hand on his back isn't as idle as he thought. Vampire strength, he realizes quickly. Biting his lip, he tries not to think of the bruises already blossoming on his hip. "No, that's just my flashlight! It's actually very late, so it's safe for you to let me out, I promise!"

Scarlet eyes narrow at him, grip tightening, and Izuku squeaks like a dog toy when those fangs scrape against his neck again. "You're not lying to me, are you? Little lust thrall?"

Izuku's face flushes brightly, and the man noses his cheek almost instinctively, as if following the blood flow. "I-I'm not! I'm not lying, I swear! Please, just—I don't want to die," he finishes weakly, hands fisting tightly in cloth pooling by the monster's sides.

The man's eyes soften slightly, and he sighs. The tang of warm iron feathers against Izuku's face. Reaching behind them both, the man swipes the lid to the side with one hand, the rough scrape of stone on stone making Izuku wince. Before Izuku can even move, he finds himself being hauled up and set outside the coffin on his feet. He staggers immediately, knees still weak, and nearly falls.

A calloused hand pushes against his back, keeping him upright. Izuku swallows and blinks away the spots crowding his vision, stumbling away to pick up his flashlight.

He turns again, cringing at the wet feeling between his legs. The man is sitting up in his box, peering at him curiously. Unable to help himself, Izuku tentatively asks, "So... you're n-not going to eat me?"

Tipping his head, the man gives him a hooded smile, dark hair shadowing his face as he answers, "Not anymore than I already have."

Izuku's face feels so hot he'd work well as a heat lamp.

The man steps smoothly out of his tomb and, to Izuku's surprise, folds into a bow. "Aizawa Shouta."

More habitually than anything, Izuku bows back. "Midoriya Izuku. It's, uh, nice to meet you?"

Aizawa smirks at him, the tips of his fangs flashing. "Well, Midoriya," he says, practically purring out the name. Izuku's breath catches. "Thank you for the meal. I hope you'll allow me the chance to taste you again. In a place where I can properly see you, this time."

With that, Aizawa rises from his bow and swirls into shadow, racing out of the doors of the mausoleum and leaving them banging open behind him. Moonlight spills into the tomb, and Izuku watches Aizawa's shadows zip through the cemetery and out into the night.

He has a feeling that he's just got himself into far more trouble than he knows.

[imaveryevilenby]

I can't sleep so I'm doing something, here's some stream of consciousness writing about a dream I had once

The sound of rain was always nostalgic for me. No matter the day; everlasting and dreadful or short and sweet, rain always made things a little bit better. From playing outside in it when I was a kid, to getting caught in it and soaked, with the fall of the rain came a gentle trickle of memories with it, good or bad.

Yet somehow that gentle pitter patter at my window always calmed me down and put me right to sleep.

Pitter patter

Pitter patter

Pitter patter

The rain sounds came from above now as the room I had been in was filled with water and floated away from me with the tide. How long had I been drowning? Seconds? Minutes? Years? Hard to say, nothing to do about it now but float. Nothing I could do about it as every part of my body became waterlogged and dragged deeper and deeper into an abyss of my own creation. I knew it was mine, but I knew not how.

Deeper

Deeper

Deeper

Drifting ever deeper and deeper, I lost the sound of the rain very quickly, and with it the memory of who I ever was or would be. I was a nothing, breathing nothing, afloat in nothing.

A light entered my field of vision, seemingly curious about the rapidly sinking nothingness that had entered its domain. It was looking at me, I know not how, looking through the nothing and seeing me for more than I ever was. Seeing more of me than anyone had ever seen, including myself.

It seemed to come to a conclusion then, flitting about in and out of my field of vision. I still felt myself sinking deeper and deeper, yet the light somehow got stronger and stronger. Summoning strength I did not know I possessed, I reached toward the light, wanting to at least meet my companion in the eternal abyss of nothingness I now somehow found myself in, though I had lost myself for a time.

The light vanished, leaving me alone with myself. Nothing alone with something, with rain now once again a comforting guest.

Pitter patter

Pitter patter

Pitter patter

[wonder-worker]

"As for the government of the kingdom, [Edward V] had complete confidence in the peers of realm and the queen."

"According to the Crowland continuator, [Elizabeth Woodville] seems to have taken the king's place in listening to his council immediately after Edward IV's death. It does appear that she expected to have some role in her son's kingship, and the Crowland continuator’s report of the letters sent to her by [Richard of Gloucester] indicates that she had good reason to expect to be able to work with him and the other councillors: 'the duke of Gloucester wrote the most pleasant letters to console the queen; he promised to come and offer submission, fealty and all that was due from him to his lord and king, Edward V, the first-born son of his brother the dead king and the queen'."

"[However], in what was Gloucester's first coup, Edward V was separated from his household and Woodville advisors. When the young king questioned the move, Buckingham was reported to have told the boy 'It is not in the business of women but men to govern kingdoms'. The blunt remark referred to the authority of Elizabeth Woodville as queen and the power she must have anticipated within the new political climate left by Edward IV's sudden death [...] While the veracity of this scene is questionable*, the words attributed to the duke no doubt seemed plausible to Dominic Mancini who believed they exemplified the popular sentiment held by men [...]."

-Dominic Mancini, The Usurpation of Richard the Third / J.L. Laynesmith, The Last Medieval Queens: English Queenship 1445-1503 / Alexander R. Brondarbit, Power Brokers and the Yorkist State, 1461-1485

*One of Mancini's key sources seems to have been Edward V's own doctor, John Argentine, who attended to him in the Tower. It's very likely that he was the one who recounted this scene to Mancini, which suggests that it should probably be considered more credible than not.

[rainbeaudingo]

My headcanon for the Fazbear Corporation is that none of their restaurants were and are that popular, at least post-Henry’s death. The reason they have so much money is because of the sentient AI they’ve “created” and sold around the world, likely for nefarious purposes.

Why build restaurants or MegaPizzaPlexes? So no one can search up what they’re doing. All that will come up is children’s entertainment venues.

Plus, the MegaPizzaPlexes could be their own misery/guilt induced creations, á la Sarah Winchester and the Winchester Rifles.

[raezee]

Im adding Ace to the growing list of boys who forgot this wasn't an Otome game.

[therxtking]

Reminder that Gordon's throne is a massive slope bowl shape stone formation full of luxurious furs, pillows, and blankets with a mattress on the bottom. It's big enough for him to stretch out and roll around in and he just chills there. hollowed further around the inner rim to make a counter space along the rim.

[the-lord-of-the-things]

I've been on a lil bit of a train kick here recently so have Micky with one of my favorite classes of locomotive I choose in my heart of hearts to believe that a Big Boy survived into the fallout: new vegas timeline

[shikai-the-storyteller]

I always tell my littlest cousins stories before bedtime (usually about gods and myths) but occasionally I tell them an original story, and I'm listening back to a recording I made the one time I thought to record myself telling one and I'm like "Wow, I’m actually a really good frickin storyteller."

(Yes, I’m a professional writer, but sometimes it’s nice to be reminded that I’m good at what I do.)

[strangefable]

Physical Description + References

Name: Lilith Mallory Age: 24 Eye Color: Pale Gray-Green Hair Color: Blonde Height: 5' Build: Petite, Lithe, Busty Faceclaim: Lili Reinhart Sideblog: @jakes-snake

Physique: At an even 5', Lilith is small in stature with a wispy build, though her chest is rather buxom for a woman her height. She usually appears unassuming and gentle; but can switch instantly to ruthless fighter.

Hair: Her hair is blonde and usually worn long past her shoulders, though sometimes she will cut it to about chin length. She likes to leave it loose, flowing in soft waves, though for practicality she often wears it in braids or ponytails or buns.

Eyes and Face: Her eyes are a pale green that often appears gray or steel colored. Her lips are full and her face usually appears soft. She has a strong aquiline nose. There is often a coldness in her eyes that doesn't match the gentleness of her smiles.

Scars and Tattoos: Her scars are minimal; the abuse she suffered healed physically and left more mental scars than physical. She bears several tattoos/scars from her Confession and Atonement. Greed on her back right shoulder, Sloth on the left. Both crossed out. Lust is marked on her chest, though it has not yet been crossed out. Toward the end of her story, she will also have to atone for Wrath, placed on her stomach. She has a snake tattoo that wraps around her right clavicle bone. She has the biblical Lilith's symbol wrapped in a flower and snake motif on her inner left forearm.

Clothing: Lilith has nothing from her pre-Project life, save for her father's dog tags, which she always wears. She's mostly seen in the typical Peggie jumper. She often wears Jacob's jacket. Her boots stand out, as they have flowers carved into their leather. She's always armed with at least a few knives, if not also a gun or two. She also has a few white dresses, gifts from Faith as one of her favored and an honorary priestess.

[riskyromancegame]

The Official* Logo for Risky Romance!

For those scrolling past, Risky Romance is my in development visual novel where you (yes you!) can play as an insurance agent visiting a small, seaside town in order to manage the risk of a local artist exposition. In a world where monsters walk amongst humans, this work trip will introduce you to a colorful cast of characters. Love was not included in your contract, but it may just find you anyway!

*Subject to small tweaks, considering everything for the game is still very much in development.

[teaboot]

If I can recommend you do 1 low-effort thing for the love of God it is this:

Keep 5 cards in your pocket. One will say "yes", the second will say "no."

If you lose your voice, or lose speech, or want to make a dramatic embellishment at the right time, it is an elegant and efficient solution that is right there at hand.

But what if people question you from there? "Why do you have that card? Why would you do this? How long have you had that in your pocket?" For this, or whatever else they say, the third card: "I don't have a card for that."

"What the fuck," they ask. They laugh. They are bemused. You bring the energy back down with the fourth card: "I have laryngitis. I've lost speech. My throat hurts". Whatever you expect to occur.

The joke is over. Rule of threes. Now they are curious. They wonder about logistics. "How did you know I would say that? Is everyone so predictable?"

As a three-part bit, nobody ever sees the fifth card coming.

"I have powerful wizard magics."

Gets them every time

[prettybbychim]

healing my inner child with one parental zhongli scene at a time