#I hope I've satisfied your curiosity anon

[ananke-xiii]

i think you were being facetious about the osiris coffin myth but what do you think about that being called back to in season 14 with the michael coffin plan. im curious what your thoughts on that are.

Hello!

Oh, no I wasn't being facetious (I think you're referring to this post, right?)! As I've said there, this isn't my primary reading of those episodes and I definitely don't think the Osiris myth was planned in advance, not the way I've put it in my post.

But I do know that resurrection is too much of a big theme in s13 to be discarded as a "regular" SPN thing. Specifically, Cas' resurrection spans over 6 episodes (7 if you count his death in s12) where we actually see the steps of his resurrection, so I think it's safe to say that the writers revisited some resurrection myths to come up with ideas (I'm pretty sure every screenwriter has a copy of "The Writer's Journey: Mythic Structure For Writers" at home, which hopefully means they also have a copy of "The Hero with a Thousand Faces" which also means that they have a copy of "The Golden Bough" and Frazer was pretty keen on dying and rising gods).

Now, about the Malak Box which means the Angel Box. I have perhaps too many thoughts about it so I'll try to be brief and only share the most salient points.

The tl;dr version is that I personally think that the meaning of characters who (want to) bury things in the water is two-sided: they want to efface the proof of their actions but they also doom themselves in the process because water is the universal symbol of life, therefore the things we hide in the water won't stay dead and are bound to resurface.

Michael was trapped by Dean in an icebox which was all a big symbolic way to say that Dean trapped Michael deep down his subconscious. What's the most famous symbol connected to the subconscious? Water. So of course the icebox thingy doesn't work because see above: the things we bury in the water will resurface whether we like it or not.

Dean understands that and this is why he builds a box for himself: because he contains Michael in his mind but it's not enough and, since Michael will take control over his mind, Dean thinks that if he puts his own body into a box and hides it deep down the ocean the problem will be solved.

Per its usual, the show removes its characters from making real decisions so we don't know what would have happened if Dean had gone through with his plan. What I personally do know is that Dean's plan was doomed to fail because see above again: water=subconscious=things will resurface.

I also know it wouldn't have worked because previously on Supernatural other things buried deep in the ocean somehow found their way back home: the First Blade in s10 and Lucifer himself in s12.

What do the First Blade, Lucifer and Michael have in common? Well, according to SPN they are evil. So we go back to the idea that evil things can be kept apart if you manage to stuff them deep down the earth/water and far away from civilization. Which, again, doesn't work.

Interestingly, it's usually Michael the one who binds Lucifer to the "Abyss", therefore in SPN we have an inversion of the myth: Dean wants to cast Michael into the ocean while Nick wants to resurrect Lucifer from the Empty. Power to the vessels, yeah! (I think "Damaged Goods" went heavy on the metaphor 'cause we have Dean and the Malak box and Nick and that box thingy where Abraxas was caged).

Now I've written "Abyss" in quote/unquote because abyss, per se, means "bottomless" and it's not exclusively related to waters and oceans but it also very much is. Dean says he wants to bury himself in the Pacific Ocean so, to me, this means the Mariana Trench which might as well be the "personification" of the concept of the abyss.

So we have a very interesting thing here in that Dean is even more Michael-like than Michael himself because he wants to bury the both of them into the abyss. LOL.

Finally, since Malak means "angel" and Dean wants to bury himself in the ocean/Abyss I cannot not think of the "angel of the abyss" found in the Book of Revelation, aka Abaddon/Apollyon.

So we go back to the beginning of my reply: one thing Supernatural is not given enough credit for is that it made full use of both ancient and more modern myths and stories, sometimes not in a respectful way but some other times they were pretty clever with symbolism.

Besides the main characters being conventionally attractive white dudes, the show's success is, imo, due to the fact that it's about this stuff, you know? Once you start playing around with myths you'll always find people willing to listen.

[sleepinglionhearts]

How do you get watercolor to look the way it does in your art?

Well, you see, I do it by simply... not using watercolor to begin with!

I use Copic markers - but I'm bad and I don't always use them on proper marker paper.

Alcohol markers have a tendency to bleed through paper real bad, and some paper textures won't allow for optimal blending of the colors. But I think that experimenting with the papers I have - and I have a lot of papers, I'm a chronic stationery buyer - leads to a lot of really interesting results, some of which look a lot like watercolor!

Of the samples of how different paper make the marker look, I like the way the MUSE memo book croquis paper takes the Copic the best. Sure it necessitates putting a paper or using a shitajiki board underneath it to protect the next page, but I think that soft, saturated look is worth it.

I did take a watercolor course while I was in college and I enjoyed it a lot, but I've still got a lot of work to do to be like... as confident with watercolor as I am with markers.

(Copic marker on Pentalic Utility Sketch general use paper, with Sailor shikiori ink in fountain pen for the lines)

[joshym]

Muse

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Summary: Your struggling artist is desperate for some inspiration.

Word Count: 3.4k+

Warnings: smut (18+ ONLY), unprotected p in v, oral (f! receiving), a smidge of sir kink, some spanking, a lot of fluff because i can't help myself, Jake draws a naked portrait of you (let me know if i've missed anything)

a/n: special thanks to this lovely anon for this brilliant idea. this was way too much fun to write.

this was inspired heavily by that scene from the Titanic. (you know the one.)

as always, thank you to my favorite editor/motivator, @jakeyt.

i hope you enjoy. ♡

“I want you to draw me wearing this.” You reach into the lapel of the robe, retrieving his coin that now hangs from your neck. “Only this.”

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

His frustration is palpable, evident in the nearly incessant huffing emanating from behind the closed door of his studio.

It's moments like these that leave you feeling utterly helpless. There’s nothing you can do, no inspiration you can provide that will pull him from his artist’s block.  

He's been holed up in there for hours, since the early dawn, lost in the depths of his imagination, sketching away. You know better than to intrude; he's never been keen on sharing his work until it's finished.

In fact, he's never once allowed you a glimpse into his creative process. "It's the strange doodlings of a mind overrun with ideas. It's not to be seen until it's in its final form," he's reminded you countless times when your curiosity gets the better of you.

Still yet, you're consumed by the desire to witness his beautiful mind in action, crafting masterpieces in real-time, each stroke flowing from his soul through his tireless hand on his Somerset velvet sheets.

But, like any artist, he’s his own worst critic. He’s never truly satisfied with anything he creates, though you are left utterly speechless after each piece he finishes. His mind is a beautifully profound chasm of endless wonder, manifested through his artistry.

You hate when he has these moments of doubt, these instances when he questions whether he’s truly capable of such greatness. 

And you especially despise days like today, when he spends the better part of it feeling as though he has a mental brick wall in the way of his ingenuity, hindering his hand from bringing to life what his mind so desperately longs to conceive. 

Commissioned pieces, like his project today, always hold the most weight for him— from the need to earn a living, to his persistent worry that his art might not meet the expectations of the client. 

It’s not that he doesn’t love doing them, or that he’ll ever stop taking them; quite the contrary, they’re his favorite pieces to work on. They provide him with an added pressure that elicits some of his best work. 

But, reaching that point can be rather strenuous for him. It can at times take days, weeks before he discovers the creative impulsion he needs. 

And right now, he’s in that very rut, awaiting the surge of inspiration that will reignite his dulled spirit.

There truly is nothing you can do when he’s lost like this, and any effort you’ve attempted in the past has always proved useless. 

The one thing you can do, however, is prepare him some dinner.

He’s hardly left his studio today, and you know he’s not eaten much, if anything at all. Perhaps a morsel of sustenance will ignite the dormant embers of his mind. 

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

After a quiet tap to the door, he invites you in with a serene voice. 

He looks tired, but lovely as ever. The golden hour has officially set in the sky, and the opened curtains on the windows have allowed for a warm hue to encompass his studio, enveloping him in its delicate lume.

“That smells absolutely divine,” he remarks as you enter his studio, his plate and yours delicately balanced in your hands. 

“I figured a little homemade pasta would do you some good,” you tell him while you pad across the floor to his work station.

With a sly disposition and a playful glint in your eye, you aim to steal a glance of his day-long project, but alas, you’ve been caught. Your sweet Jake misses nothing.

"Not yet, my love," he murmurs, flipping the page over as he takes your hand, planting a tender kiss over your knuckles. "You know the rules."

“I know, I know.” Your response holds a bit of remorse. You know better, but can’t begin to help the relentless desire to see his mind at work. 

Setting his dinner on the desk he’s working from, you move yourself across the small office to the green chaise lounge that sits across from him, silently seeking his permission with your gentle glances. The smile in his eyes tells you that he’s more than happy to be graced with your company for the time being. 

After taking a bite of the spinach tortellini you prepared, he unbuttons his white striped shirt, removing it from his shoulders and stretching his arms high above his head as though he’s ridding himself of the weight of his frustrations.

You can’t help your glare, watching him do something so normal yet so intriguing all at once. 

His skin is velvety smooth, his chest rising and falling with every breath he takes, his chestnut wavy locks sitting atop his broad shoulders. You’re in awe each time you look at him; the sheer magnitude of his beauty never fails to steal your breath away.

And his necklace, his most cherished piece of jewelry that he wears each and every day. The precious coin, a relic salvaged from a centuries-old shipwreck that hangs against his chest.

The way it sits on his bare skin is nothing short of elating, sexy. It’s a wonderful addition to his already captivating aura. 

He’s flawless. Everything about him.

Once he catches your gaze, he responds with a sly wink, eliciting a blush that paints your cheeks a bright shade of pink.

Then, a thought begins to swirl around your mind for a brief moment. One that you’re shocked you’ve not conjured until now. 

The vision of the pendant against his bare skin sets your own imagination alight. 

“I’ve got an idea,” you propose, your voice soft and sultry, trying to pique his interest even just a little, something that may help the rusted wheels of his mind turn at full capacity once again.

While his focus remains on his work, his right eyebrow arches ever so slightly, and you catch the hint of a grin daring to curl in the corners of his mouth.

“And what might that be, my dear?” he asks with an unknowing, devilish smirk. 

As you get up, he hastily flips the page back over to hide his work from you once again.

“Don’t worry,” you say as you move behind him, placing your hands on his bare shoulders. “I won’t peek.”

You glide your fingers along his skin, feeling the subtle rise of each goosebump in the wake of your gentle touch.

He hums inquisitively as you delicately take hold of the clasp of his necklace in between your index and thumb, undoing it in one fluid motion before slowly slipping it from around his neck. 

“Be right back,” you say as you head towards the door. “Don’t move.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he responds, a myriad of questions splayed across his features.

With light steps, you make your way down the wooden floors of the hall towards your shared bedroom. Hanging on the back of the door is your sapphire hued satin robe, adorned with a delicate lace detailing along the hem—the one Jake has always fawned over. 

The satin drapes coolly against your skin as you slip it on, wearing nothing underneath, save for the weight of Jake’s necklace resting against your chest that you hide beneath the fabric. 

You run your fingers through your hair, adding a subtle tousled look, before applying a light blush to your lips and cheeks to impart a bit of natural color to your complexion.

And with that, you're poised and ready.

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

As you turn the corner to face his studio, you see a very weary version of your Jake. His head sits in the palms of his hands, his leg bounces up and down at a rapid rate—a clear sign of the mental battle he’s waging. 

This is as good a time as any for your little idea, and you’re hoping that it’ll be the very thing he needs to find some much needed initiative to keep going. 

“Hi, baby,” you venture, leaning your body alluringly against the frame of the door. 

As he looks up, a familiar twinkle dances in his eyes—a sight you've longed for all day long. It's a glimmer that tells you he's rather fond of the vision before him.

“And what exactly is your idea?” he inquires softly, slowly standing from his chair. But you stop him, motioning for him to stay just where he is as you saunter towards the chaise you were seated on just moments ago. 

“My idea,” you begin, making a very slow, deliberate attempt to untie the sash holding your robe together at the waist. “...is for you to draw me.” 

As if your thought has affected him physically, his posture immediately straightens, and his once tired eyes hold a renewed sense of life as they watch you intently. 

“I want you to draw me wearing this.” You reach into the lapel of the robe, retrieving his coin that now hangs from your neck. “Only this.” 

Your robe suddenly falls to the floor, revealing your fully nude figure that was hidden beneath. 

“Oh…” he utters, his tongue wetting his lower lip before tucking it between his teeth. “You can’t do this to me, baby. I can’t look at you like this an–”

“Consider it a commission,” you interrupt, tracing your fingers lightly up and down the skin of your torso. “And when you’re finished, if it’s to my liking, you’ll receive a full payment.”

With a raised eyebrow, his gaze sweeps up and down your form, while his index finger lightly grazes his chin.

“You’re quickly becoming my favorite client,” he quips, wiping a stray bead of sweat away from his forehead, tousling the front of his hair in the process. “Consider it done, ma’am,” he continues with a confirming nod of his head. 

You lay yourself down on the forest green velvet cushions, positioning yourself sensually across the chaise. Your body is turned slightly to the side, your leg gracefully crossed over the other, an elegant display of your curved silhouette. 

The warm glow that is so beautifully cast upon Jake, is now cast upon you, the aura laying over your nude body like a golden blanket of light. 

“Is this okay?” you ask him, draping your arm over the back of the chaise, making sure the coin sits meticulously atop your chest before your other arm falls to rest against your body. 

He simply grins while nodding his head, his eyes drinking you in, a mix of surprise and desire evident within his expression.

“Yeah, that um…that’ll do just fine,” he tells you, the slight crack in his voice eliciting a smile from you, a break in his professional facade. 

With a deep breath, he takes his prized Faber Castell 9000, carefully sharpening the tip just a bit before putting it against a blank sheet. 

And then, as the true artist you know him to be, he begins without a hint of hesitancy. The gentle sound of the lead scratching away at the paper fills the quiet room— a sound you’ve come to cherish, a sound that signifies his craft is steadily blossoming to life.

He seems charmingly nervous, his hand gently brushing against his nose every so often between a series of strokes from his pencil, clearing his throat more than usual. His eyes flint to you, then back to the paper, then back to you, a succession of his adoration and determination, ensuring that the likeness captured in his art closely mirrors your essence. 

You try to keep your face composed, a seductive allure about your features. But as you watch him, immersed in his passion, the way he’s studying you so intently, it becomes nearly impossible to suppress the beginnings of a smile upon your lips. 

But despite your efforts, he takes note of the curve adorning your flushed lips, mirroring it with his own. “Relax your face for me, beautiful.” The soft rasp in his tone is enough to send a blush throughout your whole body. 

Breathing in your nose and exhaling through parted lips, you’re able to reclaim your composure enough to steady your expression. 

Every moment you share with him is a brushstroke of beauty, but something about this one stands out. The intimacy of it all, how he must diligently study every inch of your form to convey your image through his art, the intensity behind his focused gaze…your heart is racing in your chest, despite your relaxed demeanor. 

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

With the sun almost hidden behind the early moon, he completes the final stroke.

He lays his pencil down, gently blowing on the paper to remove any stray lead before he picks it up, examining it closely while he walks it over to you. 

As he holds it out before you, allowing you to at last see his craft come to life, you’re left entirely awestruck. 

“Oh, Jake.” The sight before you leaves you nearly breathless. It exceeds every expectation, beyond the boundaries of your imagination. It’s a portrayal of you, but not just that— it’s how he sees you.

It’s the first time you’re witnessing yourself through his eyes, and in that, you feel a profound sense of beauty within yourself that you’ve never known. 

“Do you like it?” He asks, a slight tremor present in his voice. 

“It’s…incredible, Jake.” 

Propping yourself up a bit, you carefully take the drawing from his hands, poring over his vast attention to the detail in your face, your body. 

Specifically your breasts, how perfectly he depicted their round curve above your rib cage, encapsulating the fullness and allure of them. 

You’re entranced by the way he drew the contour of your hips, how he captured the dip in them that you’ve always looked at with disdain, yet in his portrayal, you’re able to see the beauty in what you’ve considered a flaw.

He encapsulated everything, even the faint freckle beneath the curve of your left breast, and the mole under your belly button. He managed to immortalize all the intricate nuances that you typically overlook.

“Is this what I really look like?”

“Yes, but,” he takes the drawing from you, placing it on the mahogany table beside the chaise lounge. He helps you lay back down, gently caressing your face that he’s just conveyed through his artistry as he props himself above you. “The essence of your beauty defies any depiction.”

Then, his lips envelope yours in a kiss so fervent, so ardent, as though he’s waited hours to finally have you within his grasp. 

His hand moves with a swift grace to your breast, fingers toying with your perked bud. This erotic moment with him has you already so flustered, so sensitive to every touch of his hands. 

He breaks his lips from yours, only to land them down the column of your heaving chest.

“You’ve no idea how hard it was for me to look at you like this, to look at these,” he mumbles against the tingling skin, hands kneading the flesh of your breasts. “And fight the urge to come place my lips on every inch of this beautiful fucking body.”

And just as he said, he bestows tender yet hungry kisses down the length of your torso, maneuvering his body down the chaise lounge until he kneels before you. He nestles his face perfectly between your thighs, his warm breath tantalizing your wet center from his dangerously close proximity. 

“I certainly hope you don’t let all of your clients pay you like this,” you mutter, breathless and yearning for his mouth. 

“Only the ones that tickle my fancy,” he says, his words adorned with a playful wink before he delves into you. 

He laps away at your pulsing cunt, like he’s been starved for your taste this entire evening. The lewd, lascivious sounds he’s emitting from between your legs only serve to heighten your need for him, causing your back to instinctively arch away from the plush cushions. 

And when his lips envelop your throbbing clit, his tongue swirling around it inside his warm mouth, your body trembles and shudders. A rush of warmth encompasses you, starting from the depths of your core, the pit of your stomach, spreading to every inch of your being. 

You surrender to the intoxicating bliss, your breath catching in your throat while your heart pounds in a crescendoing rhythm.  

He guides you through it, gently holding your hips in place while the movement of his tongue slows in perfect time as with the ebb of your climax.

“Oh, that was so beautiful, my love.” He lovingly kisses the inside of your thigh before he stands, removing the belt from his patchwork jeans. “Turn over for me, baby.”

“Yes, sir,” you quietly utter as you obey his demand, knowing good and damn well what that specific name does to him. 

Just as he commanded, you turn your body over to your stomach, placing your elbows against the arm of the chaise, your back arched as much as you can so that your ass is sticking up just right for him.

“Love when my sweet girl calls me that,” he purrs before his belt hits the floor, his jeans and underwear quickly in tow and freeing his impossibly hard cock. 

“So, what’s the verdict, my love?” You feel the cushion sink in behind you as he settles himself between your legs, his right hand caressing your hip while the other teases your soaked cunt with the tip of his cock, leaking with precum. “Was my work to your liking?”

You giggle breathlessly, poking your ass out even further as an offering to him for his hard work. “Yes, I believe you’ve earned your reward.” 

He steadily begins nudging his cock into you, going slow at first, allowing you to fully adjust to him. 

Inch by thick inch, he fills you completely to the hilt, your breath catching in heavy gasps that are robbed from your lungs as he buries himself deeply within you. 

Your nails claw at the velvet armrest as his thrusts quicken in their pace, your upper body nearly going limp as you’re no longer able to easily hold yourself up.  

His hands hold a firm grip at your lower waist, pulling you into his cock rhythmically, yet becoming more and more disordered as he’s beginning to lose himself to the pleasure. 

You cry out a slew of obscenities mixed with his name, begging him to fuck you harder, faster.

Without question he complies, landing an open palm against your ass cheek. “So good for me baby,” he hums, his thighs slapping against the backs of yours as he drives into you just the way you need. “So fucking good for me.” 

With one more vigorous thrust of his hips, you feel that familiar rush throughout your whole body as your cunt throbs and pulses incessantly around his cock.

“Fuck, I feel you, baby. Pretty little cunt squeezing me so tight.” You feel the twitching of his cock inside of you, an indication that he's on the very brink of his own release. 

“Cum inside me, sir. Please…need you to fill me.” Your voice is faltered, your body still reeling from your second climax. 

“Jesus,” he groans, moaning exasperatedly as your words have him spilling within you, filling you with his warmth just as you requested. 

He stays buried inside of you as he catches his breath, feeling his release slowly trickling down your thighs as you struggle to fill your own lungs. 

You have to fight the urge to protest when he begins pulling himself away from you, not yet ready for the empty feeling he leaves you with. 

You practically collapse against the cushion, your body exhausted in the most enthralling way, the kind of exhaustion that only immense amounts of pleasure can bring forth. 

“My sweet, beautiful girl,” he whispers, kneeling himself before you as he softly caresses your flushed cheek. 

You kiss the pad of his thumb as it crosses over your mouth, summoning the strength to lift yourself up enough to steal one from his lips. “I hope it worked,” you say, gently cupping his face in your hand. 

“You hope what worked, my love?” He asks, leaning into your soft touch. 

“I was hoping this would help inspire you.” You reach for the drawing, savoring its beauty once more. “I was hoping I could help inspire you, pull you out of your moment of doubt.” 

“My love,” he murmurs, setting the portrait back down before he gently brushes his lips against yours. “You inspire me endlessly, every single day.” 

His tender smile warms your very soul as he leans in for a deeper kiss, imbued with all the love you could ever want for.

“You’re my perfect muse,” he utters against your lips, “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.” 

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

a/n: suffice to say, this inspired the hell out of me when i've lacked inspiration/motivation lately. thank you, anon.

if you have any juicy ideas, feel free to send them my way. ♡

love you guys.

taglist: (let me know if you'd like to be added/removed!)

@jakeyt @objectsinspvce @stayinginthesun @sinarainbows @stardustcordzz @klarxtr @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @highway-tuna @way-to-go-lad @reesetrippingthelight @jakesgrapejuice @sacredjake @notthedroidz @kiszkashousee @psychedelicstardust-gvf @jjwasneverhere @gvf-ficreads @stardust-jake @gretavanbear @gvfmelborne @sirjaketkiszkasharmonica @jaaakeeey @neptune2324 @jaketlove @myleftsock @joshskittytickler @audgeppp @jordie-gvf @gretavansara @gretasfallingsky @jazzyfigz @louiseecraigg @hippievanfleet @blacksoul-27 @sarafrusciante2 @heckingfrick @citylight-delight @electricgoldtendercare @musicspeaks @hollyco @gvfpal @dannys-dream @josh-iamyour-mama @edgingthedarkness @earthgrlsreasy @hernameis-heaven @mackalah @gvfmarge

Masterlist

[n0tamused]

*holds u at gunpoint* dr ratio helping u study for an exam/ quiz. Am i going through an exam rn? Yes. Will it stop me from reading ratio fan fics? No

A/N: *points a second gun at you* better watch where you're going cowboy. And felt this so bad, procrastination is killing me too, but Dr. Ratio fics never fail to make me feel something again, delulu is the solulu but only for a moment. Anyway, anon, hope you enjoy this blurpp, I wish you luck on your exams! <3 Wrote this while procrastinating myself, I gotta lock in tomorrow hhhhhhh

Contents: Dr. Ratio x GN!Reader, can be read as modern au, fluff, possible grammar mistakes (I'm about to pass out)

“Here” A porcelain cup slid your way over the polished wood desk. It was a pretty off-white, rimmed with a golden line and another purple one, thinner than the gold. Tea steamed from within, wafting off the soothing floral smell. You sighed, quickly averting your glance back at the books open before you. There were two books, thick and intimidating, and your open notebook you were reading your scribbly notes from. 

Circling around you Veritas’ looming frame cast a shadow over your papers for a moment before he seated himself in the chair next to you, his own cup in hand. “You're still on the same problem as when you started?” He clicks his tongue, nursing a sip of his tea before setting it aside when he appears satisfied. You didn't have it in you to respond, wishing to avoid any form of an outlash, especially taken in the fact you had already told him how you struggled with procrastination for quite a handful of days. He has given his advice, but they failed to make the spark with you last long enough to properly sit and study, and that all caused guilt to claw at your belly from within.

Veritas, on the other hand, didn't seem half as phased as you thought he'd be, at first he didn't even notice how your eyes looked at him in a silent plea for mercy. His amber eyes looked over your notes, at all the scribbles and marked words, letting out a low “hmmm”.

“And tell me, what is it that has you so stumped about this? It's quite an easy equation” he wondered, a little taken aback it was taking you so long on this, yet he had to remind himself that this material was new to you, unlike him who has seen this material countless times over. You weren't dumb, however, so what is it..?

“I.. don't know... The results I've gotten previously make no sense and they do not match the one the professor got in class. His is the right result, and I don't get how every time I did the problem, I got a different result” you began, voice initially quiet as if begging his ears to become deaf to your words, but your plea went unanswered. His keen eyes regarded you with a strange curiosity, his chin leaning on his hand.  Only now did he realize how tense you looked. He blinks at you owlishly, studying your features for a brief moment before turning his gaze back towards the papers. “That is a problem.. Where is the formula your professor used? Do you have his equation as a whole written down here?”

You looked at him and then at the papers, eyes flickering all across the written words and printed text.  “I.. I do.. Yes, why?”

A scoff came first, “Why, so I can take a look at it so I can help you. You did ask me to help you, did you not?”, then his large hand picked up the pen you had abandoned on top of your notes, motioning for you to show him the notes. “We can go step by step and then compare the progress to see where your problem lies” 

Nodding, you were quick to breeze through the old notes, paper pages fluttering as you went over each one until finally reaching a page so full of equations it made your head hurt. With your finger you point to the one you were currently trying to figure out. “This one.. This is just a copy of what the professor did on the white board.. and this is the formula he used '' you showed him, letting him slide the notebook to his side of the desk when his fingers pinched the corner.  

Silence engulfed the room, and for a long while you could only watch as Veritas’ expression changed from focused, to confused and then to frustrated. 

“Are you sure this is what the professor wrote down? This is entirely incorrect. The formula alone is wrong, and the process of his calculations is just abhorrent.. What is this-” he slightly nudged the notebook away from him, offended by its contents, to say the least. 

Like a little wet rat, you held your hands together, feeling guilty for all reasons you shouldn’t, a pout playing about your lips as you nodded. “Yes.  That is what the professor wrote! One of my colleagues even took a picture at the end of the class since she was too lazy to write it all down herself, so I know for a fact I didn’t copy the notes wrong” you rushed to explain as your eyes glared at the offending problem. 

“That is ridiculous” Veritas grumbled as he opened the big math book a few pages back from where you had opened it, searching for the formulas, and pointing towards one he softened his tone. “This formula should have been used in this problem. It is similar, yes, but the functions can’t be any more different from what your.. professor used” looking down at your notes and at the problem afterwards, he sneered, seeing that the formula was used once again in the next equation. “I don’t know what your professor was thinking, but repeating the same mistake twice is beyond ignorant..” 

“What..? So..? So he is in the wrong?”

“Yes. Now.. show me the way you did it. And do it with this formula I just showed you” Veritas instructed, his nose scrunched up in disgust, although none of it was directed at you but rather at this person he didn’t even know. Perhaps he should go and meet him, just to see the face of ignorance and negligence in human form. 

Following his advice, you did as he asked, working on the problem with Veritas sitting at your side, his eyes occasionally flickering to the remaining problems that would follow this one.

“There… Is this right..?” You pulled back to allow him a better view of your writing, and it didn’t take the brilliant Veritas Ratio too long to check that you were - in fact - right.  His face eased slightly from its previous tension, sighing he gave a nod of satisfaction and acknowledgement. 

“That’s right. Well done” Veritas says, voice significantly softer as he addresses you, before turning sharper once more. “I knew something was wrong when you got stuck on this for so long. You managed to solve all those problems I gave you yesterday, which are arguably much harder than this and much more complex with extra steps.. Hmph, can’t believe someone didn’t point out this error in your professors work” 

Veritas leaned back in his chair, his arms folded over his chest in a comfortable fashion in which he usually sat around you, his whole composure softening, but through and through, it was the Veritas Ratio you always knew. Hope lit up in your eyes at the unraveling of this problem that nearly had you sick to the stomach for this whole day.

“So..I know this?..Does this mean I won’t fail..?

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, of course you won’t! You’ve got me to teach you, and let me be damned if you fail”

A victorious cackle left you as he said so, feeling free of the clutches of madness this exam has put you into, and as to celebrate you all but flung yourself onto Veritas, hugging him.

The sudden embrace surprised him and made him stutter, but his arms were quick to find their place around your body, scoffing, even as he tucked his face into your shoulder.

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[pretentiousgayguyidk]

Hey Hi Hello!

I saw your requests are open so here I am!

I was thinking about Ran, Rindou, Hakkai and Mitsuya with an slavic reader? Male preferably could be gn!

Also could I be the 🥟 anon If your making a list?

Feel free to ignore this!

Pre writing thoughts - Yes!! I absolutely can, I've studied a small amount of Russian and Icelandic - but it probably won't be accurate as I'll have to use Google translate to fill the gaps. I hope you enjoy this 🥟 Anon!

Post writing thoughts- Okay... Well, I wasn't expecting to write so much, so I'll have to make other parts for the other characters 😭 but I hope this is good enough considering how long it took. (Also sorry it wasn't gender neutral, I completely blanked on it)

(Name) stuck out like a sore thumb, having moved to Japan half way into the school year; it wasn't often that foreigners moved to the area. The peculiar student had certainly caught Mitsuya's attention, piquing Takashi's curiosity... Well, (Name)'s caught the eyes of everyone not just Mitsuya.

One thing that stood out was (Name)'s accent, the mix of Japanese words with the addition of deep and throaty annociations strange yet amusing; the rolling of his r's and the emphasis of the ch's and k's pointed towards Slavic origins. That note inspired Mitsuya, and in an attempt to make (Name) more comfortable he started researching traditional Slavic clothing.

"What is that?" Yasuda questioned, her brows furrowed in confusion and slight judgement - as the current piece Mitsuya was working on was out of character for him. The red, black, white, and blue fabric stood out against his usual more casual colour choices - and the sketches of geometric embroidery patterns weren't at all like the usual Kanji he used.

Mitsuya sticks his pencil behind his ear, leaning back in his chair earning satisfying pops from his spine; he had honestly been expecting this question and was expecting it to be asked sooner. He gives Yasuda a tired smile, his arms lax as they hang by his sides.

"It's a uh..." He trails off, unsure how to properly pronounce the word - as it was either Russian or Ukrainian, he couldn't tell the difference even with the little research he did - all he knew was that it was a more traditional Slavic outfit. "Byshibanka?"

He felt a tad guilty, even though the certain Slavic student was nowhere near to hear his horrendous mispronunciation; it felt like a dishonor of sorts. Yasuda raises a brow, her hands on her hips as she looks down at her club captain.

"A what?" She asks, knowing for a fact that - one: Mitsuya mispronounced it - and that two: she would never remember to look it up later when she got home.

Mitsuya sits up, running a hand over his short silver hair; his expression filled with exasperation, not at Yasuda but himself.

"It's this like- traditional Russian or... Whatever... Outfit? I wanted to give it to the new guy." He explains, earning a knowing nod from Yasuda - who knew from her first meeting with Mitsuya that he liked guys... Even if Mitsuya didn't know it himself yet.

"Oh... So you like him?"

Mitsuya shrugs, not getting the implication - as it wasn't exactly the norm for guys to date other guys. He had no idea if he liked the new kid, he just wanted to do something nice... It wasn't like he found (Name) interesting or cute.

"I don't know, he seems like a chill guy - I've never talked to him." The teens nonchalant answer only furthered Yasuda's suspicions, she wasn't going to spell it out for Mitsuya just yet; but she was certainly coming up with a scheme.

"Well, I hope he likes it... And hopefully he's actually Russian... You do know there's other countries like that, right?" She narrows her eyes, doubting that Mitsuya actually did enough research; not surprising, many teenagers weren't all that informed of nations outside of Japan and the major powers.

Takashi's eyes widen, shifting away nervously as he realizes that he completely glossed over the fact that there are other Slavic countries; he didn't bother looking at a map or anything, just looked up some traditional clothing.

"I mean- I..." He trails off, glancing down towards the pile of cloth in front of him; he didn't consider looking beyond Russia, and he didn't even know for a fact that the Vyshyvanka was Russian or not. He shrugs, attempting to wash away his own mild concern over what could be a massive mishap. "I'm sure it'll be fine... Right? Maybe he'll appreciate the sentiment?"

"I'm sure he will... Whatever, I'll leave you to finish your little gift." She states, turning to pay attention to some of the other club members.

Mitsuya felt strangely nervous, holding a box in his lap as he waited for (Name) to enter the school gardens, a place where (Name) often stayed for lunch - since he didn't exactly have many people to talk to. Soon enough, the Slavic man rounded the corner; entering the school gardens, taking his place in the corner with his lunch. (Name) didn't even notice Mitsuya, far too focused on his hunger to realize he wasn't alone like usual.

The Japanese teen finally gains his confidence, standing from his spot on one of the benches. His steps were steady, and his expression showed a lack of interest - or rather calm despite his slight anxiety.

"Hey." Mitsuya calls out casually, causing (Name) to jump as he looks up from his food. It probably wasn't a good idea to interrupt someone in the middle of their lunch, but Mitsuya's mind was oddly scrambled when it came to (Name); his usual calm and collected self thrown out the window.

"Eh? Hi?" (Name) replies, glancing away as he rubs his throat; conscious of how he spoke. His accent has always been a problem, especially with the Japanese language; it's earned more than a few strange looks from locals - as if him being visibly not Japanese wasn't enough to earn strange looks on occasion. Yet, Mitsuya didn't seem to mind his accent, in fact - Mitsuya found it endearing.

"So uh... I just wanted to give this to you." Mitsuya states awkwardly, gesturing down to the thin box in his hands; which had his name written on it, which helped (Name) - as he didn't know Mitsuya's name till reading it on the box.

"Yeah? What's the reason?" The Slavic teen questions, shifting in his seat as he sets aside his lunch box; pulling one leg up in an attempt to seem casual - even though he was very confused and suspicious. Mitsuya glances away nervously, rocking back and forth on his heels; a nervous habit he rarely ever felt the need to do.

"It... It's just a little something I made- I just uh... Wanted to... I don't know-" Mitsuya chokes on his words, feeling his heartbeat speed up as his cheeks warm; he felt strangely embarrassed by his reasoning. "I just wanted to help you feel more welcome."

"Ah... Makes sense... I guess." (Name) mumbles, glancing down to the box as he accepts it; his mind racing for any sort of clue as to what this gift could be.

The silence that falls between them grows more and more awkward and uncomfortable by the minute, neither of them knowing what to say in the moment. Finally, Mitsuya mumbles a small goodbye before turning on his heel to leave the garden.

Once Mitsuya was gone, (Name) hesitantly opened the box - his eyes widening at the sight of familiar clothing. He can't help but smile, setting the lid aside as he runs his hand over the embroidered fabric; he wasn't Ukrainian, but he had childhood friends who were - they always leaned towards traditionalism. They often wore vyshyvankas, and some other clothing that (Name) couldn't remember for the life of him... But either way, the sight of the clothes brought back fond memories.

Lifting the clothing from the box (Name) notices something, there wasn't any sort of tag or label printed onto the fabric... Did Mitsuya make this just for him? There was a note at the bottom of the box, which (Name) quickly turned his attention to.

Hey, I just wanted to make you feel more comfortable and welcome here - we Japanese aren't always the nicest to foreigners or whatever. So I did some research and made you this, I hope you like it.

It was such a simple note, but it made (Name)'s heart skip a beat. It wasn't as if Mitsuya had bought him a gift, which would have been greatly appreciated as well... But the fact that Mitsuya made it - well that was a whole other level.

"I'll have to thank him later..."

[sapphicaideposts]

i'm sending you an anon out of sheer curiosity

i've never had sex , hell i haven't let anyone kiss me but it's out of pure choice

no i'm not innocent just because of that

i wanna know what you are apart from being a dom

and more about why u set up this blog

I'm the same darling... pretty much a virgin but not innocent at all :)

I don't know what you mean about 'apart from being a dom' but I started this blog because I was curious

There was this anonymous chatting platform where I got to talking with, majority, guys. Then I had a conversation about their experience on video call masturbation, which honestly turned me on... Like the thought about watching a girl touching themselves to show just you or them following your instructions on how to do it, y'know

So I set my matches to girls around my age and got to talk to some... There was flirting here and there and then one of my conversations with a girl got to relationships and I asked her if she's had a gf, she said yes, and I asked if they got intimate, then she told me how they made out and she had fingered her, then, gf but that was it... We'll that kinda opened our chats to sexting or dirty talk

Eventually I wanted more and remembered how tumblr has ns/fw works or blogs so I created one just to see lesbian centered stuff

I followed some blogs and dm'ed others where I eventually established that I liked being the one in control, and this kind of translates in my posts

This blog is more of a horny thoughts place for me and honestly quite emotionally detached on here, but I do try to be nice to the people I talk to.

I hope I satisfied your curiosity darling:)

[ursa-tan]

Hi! This might be a very niche but I was wondering if you could do a

Wally x reader, 🍑, consensual soul eating where he either fucks us during it, or it turns into a type of invisible/soul sex

(And if you didn't know: soul eating is where Wally eats with his eyes and feeds off of our emotions/energy, but it's like a kind of a weird sleep paralysis out of body experience for the person he's feeding off of, I've seen people also use the concept for kissing and more)

I'll show you

Wally Darling x Masc!Reader

Word count: 4,221 Reading time: ~16 mins

A/N: I hope this is what you wanted anon! I know it went a little off-request, but I hope you're still satisfied with it! Please let me know if you can!

Upon joining the neighbourhood, you were under the impression that you were the only one that would eat. Being the only human in a village of sentient puppets, the assumption made sense. In fact, the first time you say a puppet eat you were convinced it was some sort of joke set up by Barnaby to get you to embarrass yourself by asking questions. It wasn’t until said humorous puppet ask why you were staring at Sally so weirdly while she was eating that you realised that these puppets actually do eat.

You spent the next few weeks tallying up the number of times you saw each puppet eat. Well, you tried to at least, before you gave up. It became apparent pretty quickly that all of them ate on pretty much the same schedule as you, even if you didn’t see it happen. Sally would often tell you about how strict her diet is as a performer, Poppy offering you things she had baked, and Eddie talking about being a fool for skipping breakfast because he woke up late. Sufficient to say, the puppets ate, just like you did.

What struck you as strange though was that you had never seen Wally eat. Not once. He held food, stared at it, carried it around, yet he never seemed to eat it. Not even when Julie and Frank took the time to put a picnic together. He just held an apple in his hands the entire time, staring at it occasionally, but never eating it.

“It’s strange,” You mumble to yourself, breaking apart a chocolate bar and placing a square in your mouth. Your eyes are fixed on Wally, who’s currently engaged in conversation with Eddie and – once again – holding an apple that you know he isn’t going to eat.

“What’s strange, Kiddo?” Barnaby, one of your closest friends since joining the neighbourhood, asks. He’s standing next to you, doing nothing in particular.

“Hm? Oh, just the fact that I’ve never seen Wally eat. I mean, I’ve seen him holding food plenty of times, but I’ve never seen him eat it.” You don’t take your eyes off the smaller puppet – almost like you’re afraid that if you blink, the apple might disappear and you’ll seem crazy. You nearly spit out your chocolate when Barnaby next speaks.

“Yeah, that’s cuz he doesn’t eat,” he chuckles, placing a massive paw on your head and ruffling your hair, making a mess of it.

You push Barnaby’s hand off your head but don’t let go of it, knowing that he’ll put it straight back if you do. Staring at him in confusion, you wait for him to continue. When, after a few seconds, he stays silent, you know that you’re going to have to ask questions to get answers.

“He doesn’t eat? Like, at all?” You keep Barnaby’s arm in your grasp, looking up at him with a curiosity that needs to be satisfied.

“No, he eats,” Barnaby looks down at you, chuckling at the way you’re looking at him, “Just not like the rest of us, that’s all.”

“Not like the rest of us? What does that mean? How does he eat? Does he need to eat then? What would-“You don’t get to finish your barrage of questions as Barnaby uses his other hand to silence you, placing his massive paw right in your face. In much the same way that a cat would if you got too close.

“Slow down with the questions there, Kiddo!” Barnaby chuckles, holding his paw against your face for a second before removing it.

“I just-“ You’re once again interrupted by a paw to the face.

“Just tell me you’re done.” He slowly removes the paw from your face, as if expecting to have to silence you a third time.

“Ok, ok, I’m done. I’ll stop with the questions.” To say you’re disappointed is an understatement, you’re brimming with questions that you’re absolutely desperate to ask. It seems like Barnaby can tell.

“Why don’t you ask the man himself?” He gestures towards Wally, who’s still obliviously chattering away with Eddie, “You know he likes you, he wouldn’t say no if you asked politely.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. It’s Wally, he’s my best friend, I know him like the back of my paw,” Barnaby holds up his free paw, looking at the back of it proudly for a moment. That moment doesn’t last long, however, as he takes any opportunity he can to crack a joke, “Huh, never noticed that spot before.”

You can’t help but giggle at his antics, finally freeing his other hand as you do. He takes the opportunity to ruffle your hair again, just making more of a mess as you hadn’t had a chance to fix it last time.

“Off you go then.” Barnaby makes a shooing motion, pushing you lightly towards Wally. No plan, no time to come up with one, no help from the comedian, it’s all up to you. You aren’t even entirely sure what you’re supposed to do.

You find yourself stressing slightly as you approach Wally and Eddie. You hope that you can just slip into the conversation, and ask Eddie how his day has been. But you don’t get that chance, because just before you get there, Eddie says goodbye and walks away. Now it’s just you and Wally.

“Oh, hello neighbour,” Wally smiles up at you, his eyes droopy and half-lidded as always. He’s still holding that goddamn apple.

“Oh, uh, hi Wally, you, uh.” You find yourself attempting feebly to stumble your way through a complete sentence. Wally’s eyes don’t leave you for a second. He’s staring straight into your eyes, almost like he’s trying to stare straight into your soul.

“Are you ok neighbour?” He’s looking at you with that cat smile. It’s so relaxed and yet you feel so tense.

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” You mumble, reaching up to pick at your arms slightly, flaking off an old scab that you never gave time to heal, “Just wondering if you wanted to hang out tonight? Maybe I can come round yours and we can have dinner?” You can feel his eyes leave you as you ask this question, but the nerves keep a tight grip on your neck and you can’t find it in yourself to look at him to find out why.

“Sounds delightful, neighbour.” The apple is gone. You look down at him when he speaks and the apple is gone. He hasn’t dropped it or stuffed it in his pockets. It’s just gone.

“Right, right… I’ll come round at about… 7?”

“yes, 7,” Wally nods, smiling and waving at you, “I’ll see you later neighbour.”

You wave at him as he walks away, watching him walk over to Julie’s before knocking on the door and waiting for her to let him in. Once he disappears, you turn back to Barnaby, looking at him with a quizzical expression.

“What’s up, kid?” He chuckles, looking at you as you find your place back at his side.

“He… Did you see what he did what that apple?”

“No clue, I was more focused on how awkward you looked,” he chuckles, reaching out to ruffle your hair for a third time. You swat him away before you get a chance.

“Seriously, did you see anything? Anything at all? It can’t have just disappeared!” You sound exacerbated, desperate for answers.

“Maybe he ate it,” Barnaby chuckles, pulling his pipe out and placing it in his mouth.

“I thought you said-“

“You should ask him about it, you’ll have him all to yourself tonight.” He lets out a puff of swirling iridescent smoke. You know that you aren’t going to get any more answers out of him. He’s being belligerent on purpose, something you know that he’s grown to enjoy when talking to you. Said it’s something about how you look funny when you’re frustrated.

Instead of trying – and ultimately failing – to wrangle more information out of Barnaby, you decide to head home. It’s not a long walk, but it gives you time to think. The main question on your mind for the next few hours is how you’re going to bring up the topic of how he eats.

You’re so consumed by the question that you don’t even realise how quickly the time passes. Before you know it, it's 6:30 and getting kinda dark outside. You know if you don’t get ready now, you’ll be late and it’ll be dark by the time you get there.

You choose to put on a nice pair of black trousers and a colourful cardigan – something you think Wally might like. You also gather up some simple snacks, the kind of things you’d want someone to bring to yours if they were going to come over. Once you’re sure that you’ve gathered everything you think you’re going to need, you set out towards Home.

Wally is opening the door before you even knock on it, wearing something much more comfortable than his usual outfit. His hair is down and he’s wearing a light pink robe that he seems to have purposefully pulled off his shoulders.

“Neighbour, you’re early,” He smiles up at you, eyes half-lidded as he holds a hand out, “Come in, please.”

“O-Oh, ok!” You shift the bag you were holding so that you can take his hand, allowing him to pull you into the house. His hand is surprisingly warm in yours, soft against your palm and small enough that you could crush it with ease if you wanted to.

“What would you like to do, neighbour?” He stops and looks up at you once he’s brought you to his living room. The main light has been turned off and replaced by the presence of a lamp. There are already a few different snacks laid out on the coffee table – you notice that he’s got your favourite. You aren’t sure if he got it on purpose or if he just already had it, maybe you can be nosy and ask Howdy when he brought it later on.

“I don’t mind…” You mumble, realising you hadn’t prepared for anything other than asking Wally how he ate.

“Would you like to make something? Maybe we can paint together,” He’s still holding your hand while he speaks, “Or we could just talk?” He’s looking up at you with something in his eyes that you can’t quite put your finger on.

“Talking sounds nice.” You smile, sitting uncomfortably on his sofa. The sofa itself is quite comfortable, but you perch yourself on the edge.

Wally doesn’t say anything, instead just coming to sit next to you. He presses himself against you, his head resting on your shoulder to the best of his ability.

“Wally, can I ask you a question?” It feels far too serious to say that, but you also feel like you might implode if you just outright ask the question that’s been on your mind for so long.

“Of course, neighbour.” He slimes up at you, moving to intertwine his hand with yours.

“I’ve noticed that you uh… I don’t… I haven’t…” You look down at his hand, and the way it holds yours, fits so perfectly has you struggling to speak, “ You… How do you eat?” Eventually, you manage to just spit it out and ask him. He doesn’t react like you would expect him to. You expected him to look up at you with that lazy, half-lidded gaze that he always had. Instead, he jumps in his seat slightly and continues to stare straight forwards.

“Well, neighbour, it’s hard to explain,” He chuckles lightly, finally moving to look up at you. His pupils are restricted, small and not looking into your own but rather focusing on your lips, “ It would be easier to show you.”

“Show me then.” You know you sound way too excited, it's probably a little off-putting.

“You have to promise not to… React badly, neighbour,” He mumbles, letting go of your hand and shuffling away from you.

“I promise.” You have to force your voice out, feeling the excitement bubble up inside you.

“Stay still.” Wally stands up, moving until he’s in front of you and can rest his hands on your thighs, just above your knees.

“O… Ok?” The excitement subsides, confusion taking its place. His hands move slightly, shifting up to rest about midway up your thighs.

Before you get a chance to ask a question, Wally is climbing into your lap and situating himself until he’s pressed as close to you as he can get. You try and ignore the way that he’s sitting directly over your crotch, or how his hands are now resting on your chest.

“Open your eyes for me,” His hands come up to cup your face, holding your head still with a surprising amount of strength, “Don’t move.”

“Wally I don’t understand why this is necessary-“

“I’m going to show you how I eat, stay still and open your eyes.” His fingers dig into your cheeks, almost painfully holding you in place. You just close your mouth and nod as best you can, deciding that you don’t want to face whatever emotion Wally was just feeling.

His pupils blow wide, almost completely consuming his eyes. You can barely see the whites of his eyes in just the corners. It’s almost scary as he stares into your own.

Suddenly, something starts to envelop your mind. A fogginess that you can’t seem to shake off no matter how much you try. Wally continues to stare into your eyes, his own almost completely black and entirely unmoving. The fog begins to numb your limps, starting in your lower legs and tingling as it leaks into your thighs. Pins and needles seep into your fingertips, crawling up your arms in a warm sensation that leaves you unable to feel anything. You try to speak, but you can’t even open your mouth. Your lips are sealed shut, leaving you unable to do anything but let out a soft whimper.

“Don’t worry,” Wally speaks, hands moving to rest on your shoulders. You don’t move your head – you can’t move your head. “This is supposed to happen.”

You try and open your mouth again, attempting to ask him what this is. Yet, no matter how hard you try, you can’t get your jaw to move. The only thing you can do is whimper pathetically, unsure of what he wants from you.

Soon enough, you realise that you can’t move your eyes either. Unlike when you experience sleep paralysis, you can’t move your eyes at all. The only thing you can focus on is Wally’s charcoal eyes, blown so wide that you feel like you’re going to fall in.

“Just relax, you wanted to see how I eat, didn’t you?” Wally shifts forwards slightly, pressing himself further against you, managing to lightly grind himself on you, “ If you want me to stop, all you have to do is close your eyes.”

With those words, you realise you can move your eyelids. While your vision is focused on those deep pools of black in front of you, your eyelids begin to twitch and flicker. You don’t feel the need to blink, your eyes aren’t dry or irritated. And, despite the fear of being unable to move… You can feel something in your mind telling you to let this continue.

“Good… Please relax neighbour, I promise this won’t hurt.” You can barely see that he’s smiling as he speaks. His hands move to run over your chest, splaying his hands out over the top of your shirt, wrinkling the material slightly and causing it to lift slightly and show your lower stomach.

A sense of pleasure starts to take over, the pins and needles like tingling becoming a warm, dripping sensation. It starts in your fingertips, slowly trickling upwards, moving like honey in thick, sticky rivulets. The feeling leaks into your chest, pooling warmth right above your heart that’s spread further and further with every beat, being spread through your veins. Soon enough, your entire body is enveloped with the tingling euphoria.

“I’m sure you’ve figured it out by now, neighbour,” Wally mumbles, his usual, sleepy voice breaking you out of your focus, “You always were smart…”

You whimper in response to his statement. You hadn’t figured it out, you hadn’t figured anything out. All you know is that you feel amazing and that you can feel Wally’s ass pressing against your slowly hardening cock.

“You haven’t?” He seems surprised to ask this question, almost as if he really did think you understand what’s going on, “Should I explain then, neighbour?”

You let out another soft whimper, no longer caring about what’s happening. You’re losing yourself to the sensations, to the way his soft body feels pressed against yours.

“I eat with my eyes,” He starts, still staring deeply into your own, “But I can’t just eat food, it’s not enough… I need something more substantial, something bigger… Which is where you come in. I just need to take a little from you, some energy, I guess you could say.”

There’s nothing you can do as Wally continues to stare into your eyes, still smiling slightly, eyes still blown so incredibly wide. You wouldn’t stop him even if you could. You have plenty of energy to share if he was telling the truth about that. It doesn’t matter really, the feeling of warmth throughout your body and your slowly growing erection made you desperate for more.

“It seems you’re enjoying this neighbour… Maybe I should give you a little something in return.” Wally seems to be thinking out loud, wondering about what he should do for you.

It doesn’t take a second for him to begin slowly rocking his hips. His ass is pressed against your cock, slowly grinding into it, causing your erection to grow more and more with each passing second. The way he rocks his hips causes you to groan, eyelids flickering slightly but never once blocking Wally’s view of your eyes.

The puppet's hands trail downwards, eventually reaching your lower stomach. Slowly, he inches one hand under your shirt, touching your skin in soft, barely-there circles that cause your muscles to twitch involuntarily. He pauses his movements when he feels your muscles quiver under his fingers, seemingly cherishing the movements before continuing his ministrations. Wally manages to get your muscles to tremble again, many times.

The hand that isn’t under your shirt moves down to your belt buckle, undoing it with practised ease and quickly pulling it from your belt loops. Wally tosses it over his shoulder, letting it clatter to the floor somewhere behind him that you can’t see. His eyes never leave yours, not once.

Next thing you know, the puppet is popping your trouser button open with one hand, unzipping the zip as well. You groan again, only this time it’s out of disappointment, as Wally has shifted backwards and off you’re your painfully hard cock so he can shuffle your trousers down. The fabric bunches up around your mid-thighs, giving Wally space to sit on your crotch again, now only with your boxers in the way.

You want to buck your hips upwards, thrust yourself into his small body, and maybe even get the chance to hold him down and fuck him. But you still can’t move, so everything is left up to Wally. He knows this. You know he knows you know.

He removes his hand from underneath your shirt, shifting his small body backwards to leave your thinly veiled cock exposed to him again. He places one of his hands over you, palming you softly through your boxers, applying just enough pressure to make you feel something so delicious that you want more. It’s not long before he’s pulling your boxers down, freeing your cock and allowing it to spring up and hit the stomach of your shirt. It leaves a small, dark patch where you’re already leaking precum.

Wally begins to focus on undoing his trousers now, popping the button and somehow managing to pull them off within seconds – all without breaking eye contact. He gets his boxers off as well, throwing them somewhere behind him, probably letting them join your previously discarded belt.

Despite being unable to move your body yourself, your lips part seamlessly when two of Wally's fingers press against them. It allows him to slide the digits inside your mouth, pressing the pads of his fingers into your tongue. You can feel you're saliva coating his fingers, making them slick. You want to curl your tongue up and against him, wrap it around the fingers in your mouth, allowing you to suck on them lightly.

Slowly, Wally pulls his fingers from your mouth. Thin strands of your saliva connect your lips to his fingers, glistening in the light and drawing your attention for just a moment - even if you can only see them in your peripherals.

You aren't entirely sure what he's going to do with his now slick fingers until he reaches backwards. Wally's hands slip behind him, begging to slowly tease and dip into his tight hole. You can just about feel the way his hips shudder as he begins to finger himself, slipping both of his now-slicked fingers into his ass. 

Your cock twitches as he lets out a soft moan, hips bucking backwards a little. He's fucking himself on his fingers, thighs starting to tremble slightly as he continues. The way he moves makes you want nothing more than to have him, the feeling is a burning lust in your chest that drives you mad.

Eventually, Wally stops pleasuring himself and pulls his fingers out, moving his previously busy hand round to his front. You think he's going to touch you, until he begins to stroke his cock in long, languid movements. The fact that he isn't touching you is driving you crazy, your cock is aching and you're desperate for his touch, but he won't give it to you.

Until, that is, Wally shifts slightly forwards. He uses the hand that isn't stroking his cock to lightly grip yours, lining it up with his tight hole. You can feel your leaking cock press against him, meeting a small amount of resistance as he begins to lower himself down onto you. You can feel yourself sliding in slowly, your saliva making it easy for him to push himself down.

Wally bounces gently as he pushes himself down further, pulling up slightly to be able to slip more of you inside of him. After a few soft, subtle bounces, he reaches your base, leaving you fully hilted inside him.

The combination of the thick, honey-like pleasure and the tightness of Wally's tight hole around your cock has your mind beginning to fog. You know you aren't going to last long, not like this. Especially as the head of your cock presses into his soft, gummy walls. Wally's surprisingly warm body squeezes around you, tightening more than you thought it could. 

Slowly, he begins to rock his hips again. The soft rocking progresses into a bouncing motion, causing Wally's soft inner to glide along your cock, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

The pleasure starts to overwhelm you. Everything that's happening is getting too much, the thick, tingling pleasure, the rolling waves of euphoria, it's pushing you towards climax. You're desperate to orgasm, to finish and fill the small puppet sitting in front of you.

Soon, the growing, building pleasure becomes too much. Your orgasm comes crashing over you, muscles twitching, your mind flooding with pleasure. You can feel yourself cum, waves of complete euphoria rolling over you as you.

Wally doesn't stop bouncing as you reach your peak, seeking his finish. The sensation of his soft walls becomes too much, overstimulating your now sensitive cock. You can feel your eyes tearing up, although you don't dare to blink. He clamps around you, body stilling and thighs trembling as he orgasms. Hot, sticky ropes of cum shoot out and ruin not only your shirt but also his cardigan.

A few seconds pass, Wally practically panting, before he finally breaks eye contact. Immediately you feel as if there is nothing left of you. Your eyes are sore and your body is tired from what just occurred - but your mind is also foggy.

Wally doesn't bother speaking or even getting up, instead just leaning forwards and cuddling into you. His head nuzzles into your neck, cock still hilted inside of him. You don't want to move either, still enjoying the feeling of him. So instead, you opt to wrap your arms around the puppet and hold him close, almost immediately falling asleep.

[sky-kiss]

Eeeee Shadow Raphael anon here! I'm so happy you're inspired by it! I have two options you can choose from.

1) platonic - them having a chess match and it just being a wity banter off and them enjoying riffing off of each other so much. Maybe this is at the inn/brothel lobby so other people can be there if you'd like.

Or

2) Them having a one night. I don't really have specifics but my brain is barking and screeching because I'd imagine anything explored via your writing will be so good and so much to chew on so I'm up for ANYTHING really!

Thank youuuu!

A/N: Ok, so this is so rushed, and I’m sorry about that. I want to do stuff with these two SO BADLY. Anyway, Dark Justiciar Shadowheart. Post game. Raphael received the crown. 

Shadowheart/Raphael: Meetup

"Raphael—I'm not surprised to find you here."

The half-elf slides into the seat across from him, lips turned up a charmingly self-satisfied smirk. It takes Raphael a moment to recall her name—she is, in truth, only tangentially referenced in his mental library, one of Tav's many delinquent compatriots. He leans back, humming, before he says, "Astutely observed, my dear, though perhaps less impressive than you hope. The Caress is nothing if not my home away from home." 

"I've no interest in impressing you, devil. 

"No, only in interrupting my meal, it seems," his voice dips to a velvety purr, cataloging the minute shift in the Sharran's posture. She arches a brow, gaze flicking to the empty table. Raphael indicates the crowded hall around them. "My hunting grounds, my meals, priestess. Every moment you linger is an opportunity wasted."  

Shadowheart scoffs, drumming her fingers on the table between them. The pretty creature tips her head to the side, regarding him through artfully lowered lashes. "You were more civil before." 

"Your intrepid leader had something I wanted—and our business has long since concluded." The cambion clucks his tongue. "Where is my Mouse these days?" 

She stiffens. "I wouldn't know. Tav…she took her leave some time ago." 

"Oh?" 

"I've no need to explain myself to you."

"None at all. But you were a precious little pair, weren't you? Haarlep does so regret being unable to…collect you both." Raphael lifts his right hand, inspecting his nails. "One fair turn for another…tell me the truth of your parting, and I will hear your request." 

Shar's Chosen regards him coldly. "My Dark Lady demands the whole of my heart." 

"How selfish. I almost admire her." Oh, but he likes that flush of color in her cheeks. Power radiates off her, different, colder than many of the god's chosen toys. Shar has given this one a shocking amount of play, provided she remained a loyal little dog. No slipping her leash. "Tell me what you need, my dear." 

"An enemy of Lady Shar has gone to ground. I'd have him found." 

"Simple enough—hardly requiring my talents. Or worth incurring my cost." Raphael smiles with teeth, curiosity piqued. "Who is this erstwhile quarry?" 

She paints him a picture: one of Selune's most beloved champions, a lycanthrope, long fled from the city. His trail and his scent had long since gone cold. The damned creature had very likely fled to a different plane. 

The devil considers the offer, taking in her appearance again: beautiful, dark. Some trace hint of Tav's scent still lingers on, perhaps in spirit rather than reality. It's intoxicating. Her eyes glitter with dreadful ambition and determination—it calls to an echoing spirit festering in his own breast. 

"No contract," Raphael drawls, tracing the rim of his glass. He has ordered wine for them, richer, deep, and red. "Let us consider this…a favor between friends."

"Very generous of you. Suspiciously so."

 "Is it? I've always found it most advantageous to conduct my business in a more...relaxed fashion than your dear Lady. The first taste, as they say, is free." He raises his glass in a toast. Shar's Chosen returns the gesture in kind, lips turning in dark satisfaction. 

~~~~~~

She comes to him months later. 

“The first taste was free,” Shadowheart grumbles, leaning back. “So, name your cost.” 

He scoffs. “My dear, where is your flair for the dramatic? Tease out the tension! Savor the give and take, bargain…” 

“...you make it sound like seduction, devil.” The Justiciar’s tongue flicks out to wet her lower lip, so sweetly, ignorantly satisfied. Oh, but she is young. All her power, violence, and inexperience still hang about her like stray traces of baby fat in a youth’s cheeks. 

“If you like. I prefer to think of it as a dance—coming together, stepping apart, together…all to our mutual satisfaction.” 

Shadowheart’s eyes glitter in the half-light, intrigued. 

~~~~~~

She comes to him again. 

And again. 

Again. 

They work surprisingly well together. And her goddess turns a blind eye. 

~~~~~~

“How sweet,” he purrs, sucking her lower lip between his teeth. They’ve recently started conducting their business in the Den rather than the common room, and the added privacy has led to this. Shadowheart walks him backward, hands already at his belt. The half-elf whimpers against his lips, the delicacy of the noise contrasting with the natural authority she carries. “You still taste like her, pet.” 

She chuckles, flicking her tongue along the seam of his lips. “You never tasted her.”

“No, but…” Raphael’s grip is bruising on her hips—she fails to so much as flinch. “Haarlep is so eager to indulge me—I wager I’ve had her more frequently than you.” 

“Ah—a poor man’s imitation.” She stands on the tips of her toes, tracing his nose with hers. The half-elf leans back, smirking. “We should compare someday…see how your counterfeit compares to reality.” 

He laughs despite himself. “It could be arranged." He presses his lips to the shell of her ear, pleased at the way shiver. "I’d quite like to watch them fuck you.” 

“I’d like it too. But for now…” she pushes Raphael back on the mattress, crawling over him. “I shall have to be content with you.”

[erisenyo]

Facets anon again, thank you SO MUCH for your take, it was absolutely interesting to read! I truly appreciate it!

I will admit that for me not more than half the 'core aspects' can change or I'm considering the character as 'too ooc'. If the fic is marked as a character study I'll allow it, but to divorce a character so far from their original gets me a little mad. I love OC fics and don't understand why people don't just write those instead of pretty much changing anything BUT the name of the character.

Again, my ask didn't originate from the fics I've seen in the ATLA fandom. Idk if it's because the fandom size is smaller or most fans have aged so much that most written fancontent is just above certain squicks of mine.

Now to explain where my curiosity came from: I've been lurking around the BNHA fandom and checking out what's going on over there on ao3. And well, it somewhat feels like they like to use Midoriya Izuku (the main guy) like paper mache. I know that he's somewhat bland and spice is the joy of life, but man, some of those fics really do just keep his name.

Like to pick out 5 facts that, IMO shaped him as a character and would therefore have repercussions if changed:

- Born Quirkless

- wants to be a hero

- hero fanboy

- grew up without a father/ only with a softhearted somewhat helpless mother

- bullied throughout his life, even by adult figures

Him being quirkless and therefore being bullied w/o anykind of substantial support ABSOLUTLY fed into his recklessness, his inability to discern healthy relationships and savior complex. He gets suicide bated from the get go and physically harmed by someone he considers as friend BASED on him being 'useless'. Changing him being born Quirkless would cause immense ripples in his characterisation, given that the bullying STARTED and ESCALATED based on that.

I feel as if the change of one core aspect ALWAYS carries rippling effects ontonthe other aspects, which is precisely why I feel like changing more than half would make a character unrecognisable.

As you mentioned with the Zuko example and the comparison between earth and firebending: Yes, to ensure the reader being able to appreciate THIS version of a character parallels should be shown to reflect what changed and what stayed the same.

I feel like a lot of fics don't work for me personally in that regard is because certain changes and their effects haven't been thought through enough by an author. At least not to a degree where my mind wouldn't pipe up with an "But,um actually ", though that is certainly my own folly.

I do tend so stay clear of any fics I don't agree with. Critiquing someone for not catering to my personal taste would be ridiculous and I firmly believe in proper fandom etiquette. Though I will say that this specific issue has been BUGGING me, which is why a reached out. Again, you're one of my favorite authors and given your insights I felt absolutely satisfied in reaching out to get an authors perspective of the issue in a divorced kind of way, which is why I specifically didn't mention where me being irked came from.

I hope I haven't abused the privilege of sending you anonymous asks to aort my mind out. Thank you for your takes, I enjoyed them!

Facets anon, I have the sneaking suspicion that you are rather unique in loving OC fics haha. Maybe I just have a small sample size, but generally I think of people coming to fic because they actively like and want the familiarity of already knowing the characters, the setting, the major plot beats, etc.

Which as previously discussed, means if you're going to deviate from canon, you definitely need to bring people along for the ride...but also maybe why people are reluctant to fully divorce from the underlying canon even when they're deviating really quite a lot.

With respect to your thoughts, I'd generally agree that any kind of change, especially to a core facet of the character, has ripple effects. To your point, those core facets are often tightly tied together, so taking down one could mean a cascade of changes to the core characterization, unless the narrative explicitly takes pains to account for why, for example, someone is being bullied for a whole new reason now that he'd receive the same way.

But I could see an alternate take where Midoriya's core facets are actually his recklessness, that inability to discern healthy relationships, and the savior complex. And maybe then you can say they aren't a *result* of his experiences, but rather exacerbated by them...in which case you could then say okay, how would those traits play out if I changed ABC plot points instead. Maybe he's reckless and bad at discerning healthy relationships and he has big fancy special Quirk and as a result he ends up in a whole different type of self-sacrificing unhealthy dynamic. (I don't actually know, I've literally read one fic in this fandom lol).

And I'd generally suggest, at least from a writer's POV, that those underlying facets tend to be more anchoring when they're personality traits. Midoriya not having a Quirk is a thing that happens to him, that drives the plot. Midoriya being reckless is his underlying personality that informs the way he reacts, that he'd theoretically always have. He can be reckless in every situation and scenario he's in (presumably lol. I don't know him.)

Zuko being branded by Ozai is a major plot event that drives and shapes his backstory. But you can take that away and still have Zuko, in my opinion, because the underlying facet behind that plot point is Zuko's personality/responses--that he desperately wants to please his father to the point of self-deception, even up to and after being harmed by him. *That* is a core part of who he is, and *that* is what follows him from AU to AU in the form of his reactions and motivations (and the personal growth he needs to experience).

Which again just gets back to, what are those anchoring, core things that make the character who he is to you? It's probably more his personality, his motivations and fears and reactions, than the specifics of the events that happen to him. (I will allow that some events can be very critical, particularly if they exacerbating a core trait--Sokka probably already had abandonment issues before his mom died and Hakoda left but hoo boy did those not help!)

I can see a larger fandom ending up with different 'camps' for lack of better words on what that looks like (Even within ATLA--if you think Zuko's primary stress response is anger and someone else thinks anxiety, you're going to be having some really different fic reading experiences!). And peeking into the other 'camp' could result in the character feeling *very* OOC

[shalom-iamcominghome]

Hi Shalom!

🐏 anon here. I've been thinking a lot about Judaism lately, and I see your posts all the time (positive!) so I wanted to say hi, and make my own post I suppose.

Recently, I found a photo of my grandma as a teenager, with her family, with a menorah on the table. I was surprised... I thought my grandma's mom didn't really practice Judaism and that's why my grandma doesn't really ever mention it. It's some sort of comfort that I'd be able to, like, prove, that my maternal grandma really was Jewish (at least at one point), you know? I also wonder why it never comes up. It doesn't seem like it's a private subject to her or anything, it just feels unimportant/irrelevant, but you'd kind of think that "observant enough to light a menorah regularly" would be "observant enough for it to be impactful to her identity", yeah? I was also surprised that my great-grandma kind of looks Jewish, because my grandma doesn't at all. I think my great-grandma looks kind of like me, actually...

I keep thinking about sending that email to the shul by me. I've had it drafted ever since you encouraged me last year, and I'm at the point where I really think I should just go check it out and maybe that'll satisfy my curiosity/connection-seeking. But I realized that I have a lot of Jewish friends, all of whom seem to know each other, 'cause there aren't that many Jews around here. And now I'm afraid someone would see me and recognize me and ask questions I don't know how to answer (like "are you Jewish? are you converting? do you want to convert?").

In lighthearted news, I donated $5 to Montana Jewish Project like two years ago when they were trying to buy back a historical synagogue, and today I got a happy new year postcard in the mail 🥺 not even a "send us more money pls" mailing, just celebratory. It's a small thing, but it made me smile.

Shana Tovah, Shalom! It's been inspiring seeing your journey thus far, and seeing how happy Judaism seems to make you. Thanks for the sense of company/community here on tumblr.com!

- 🐏

I'm really glad you decided to send an update - as long as you'd like to, I enjoy seeing how everyone (of course including you) are doing!

I totally get what you mean - I have no clue about half my family, and I've only recently learned a smidge about some of them myself, so I understand why it's like... "How is this not relevant information?". Jewish identity is so complex for many, so it makes sense, you know? But I'm really glad you're connecting with your family, learning about them, seeing you in them. It's a special thing, and I hope you foster that further! And with shul... Nobody knew who I was when I started going, so I don't have that experience, but... I definitely think it's still worth it, honestly. It can be really difficult, and honestly, I myself can get tired of the "what brings you here?" conversations (not anyone's fault, just a conversation I've had a lot that feels... really personal). I honestly think it's one of those "you won't know until you try" sorts of situations, and many people will just be happy to see more people - especially fresh faces! I don't think anyone does this, like... Maliciously, and that helps me when it feels like, "please don't ask why I'm here, it's a whole Conversation."

And it's so sweet they sent you a postcard - here's hoping you'll have a sweet 5785, and I really hope your shabbos will be delightful and refreshing. If you're planning to observe any of the high holidays, may it be meaningful and special! There's no pressure for you, but it's something I think can be really important - I became 110% sure I wanted to convert when I celebrated Purim with my community (which is why Purim is now so incredibly special to me)!

[cherryrainn]

HII!! How are you? I hope your well! I wanted to send in a request if that's ok! make sure your getting rest bc you writing must be energy draining but anyways...!

Could I request Alastor with a Male! or GN! S/O who has a Dokuro Mitsukai Personality from Bokusatsu Tenshi Dokuro-chan? here's some info but feel free to look up some more about this personality!

 So basically the reader is an angel/demon ig that came from heaven and they get sent down to hell and decided to live at the hotel? They may look quite young and play the cute, innocent act quite well. However, every time something happens, they beats someone to death with Excaliborg, a special bat with thorns. But there is no need to worry, with the cast of a spell — Pipiru Piru Piru Pipiru Pi — they comes back to life.

I HOPE THIS ISNT TO CONFUSING--- THANK YOU ANYWAYS IF YOU CAN DO THIS REQUEST =^w^=

-Vocaloid addict anon

hi!! i'm doing great and thank you. this sounds fun! i've heard of this anime but i have a feeling i'm going to get this very wrong... it's worth a shot though!... i definitely did something wrong though this is so embarrassing

☽ ༚  ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰  ༵ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰ 

— hellish harmonies

alastor x reader who has a dokuro mitsukai personality

alastor, the radio demon, presided over the happy hotel with an air of sophistication and charm. his wide, permanent grin masked a darker nature that few dared to cross. the hotel was a melting pot of eccentric personalities, and it was there that you, an angelic yet sinister entity, his loving partner, decided to take up residence after a peculiar assignment from heaven.

from the moment you arrived, alastor was captivated by your unique personality. your innocent facade and deadly tendencies fascinated him, and he found himself irresistibly drawn to you. it didn't take long for the two of you to become a couple, and you quickly became inseparable.

the other residents seemed taken with your act, and even alastor couldn't help but feel a strange fondness for your innocent charm. he knew, however, that beneath the facade lay something much more sinister.

one evening, when the hotel's common area was bustling with laughter and merriment, an unfortunate demon made the grave mistake of insulting your "sweet" demeanor. in an instant, a bat with thorns, called excaliborg appeared in your hands, and with a swift swing, the demon met their demise.

gasps filled the room as alastor calmly observed the scene. with every swing of excaliborg, you wore a mischievous smile, almost relishing the act. "quite the performance indeed," alastor remarked, eyes glinting with curiosity.

vaggie stomped towards you with a fiery expression. "what on earth—no, what in hell are you doing, y/n? we don't kill people here!"

you turned your innocent gaze towards vaggie, but there was a flicker of defiance in your eyes. "i'm just defending myself, vaggie. they were insulting me, and i had to show them i won't be pushed around!"

vaggie huffed, clearly not satisfied with your explanation. "that's no excuse for killing someone! we don't condone violence here, even if it's hell."

alastor, who had been observing the situation quietly, finally spoke up. "ah, my dear vagatha, let's not be too hasty. y/n seems to have a unique way of handling situations, and i must admit, it's rather intriguing."

vaggie turned her sharp gaze towards alastor. "this isn't a game, alastor. we're trying to run a place of redemption here."

you glanced at alastor, seeing a subtle amusement in his eyes. it was then that you decided to heed vaggie's words and show her that you could rectify the situation. with a nod, you cast the resurrection spell, bringing the demon back to life.

"pipiru piru piru pipiru pi!"

the demon groaned, holding their head as they regained consciousness. "what happened?"

vaggie crossed her arms, her anger subsiding slightly. "you were being rude, that's what happened. now apologize and learn some manners."

the demon looked at you and then at vaggie, realizing the gravity of the situation. "i'm sorry, i didn't mean to offend anyone."

vaggie nodded, satisfied with the response. "good. now remember, violence isn't the answer here."

you smiled, both sweet and sinister, and nodded. "i'll keep that in mind, vaggie!"

as the night's events unfolded, the playful atmosphere returned to the grand hall of hell's happy hotel. the demon you had confronted earlier, now revived and chastened, had retreated to a corner, keeping a wide berth from you. the other residents resumed their conversations and games, seemingly unfazed by the recent commotion.

you and alastor found yourselves standing side by side, the magnetic pull between you both stronger than ever. his eyes sparkled with amusement as he observed your interactions with the other residents. there was a sense of pride in his gaze, knowing that you were his partner in both mischief and tenderness.

"so, my dear y/n," alastor said, a hint of playfulness in his voice, "i must admit, you have a way of shaking things up, don't you?"

you grinned mischievously, leaning closer to him. "well, who would've thought hell could be so much fun? besides, it's not every day you find an angelic maniac in this dreary place!"

alastor chuckled softly, enjoying the warmth of your presence. he reached over and gently pinched your cheek, eliciting a delighted giggle from you. "indeed, it's a delightful surprise. you certainly add a unique charm to my existence here in hell."

you batted his hand away playfully, but your eyes softened as you looked at him. "i could say the same to you."

alastor's grin widened, his eyes reflecting the affection he held for you. "ah, my dear, you flatter me so. i must say, you bring a breath of fresh air to this place. life in hell can be dreadfully monotonous, but you make it thrilling."

[temeyes]

Hello ,first wanted to say your art is such a joy to see !!!

Out of curiosity, have you ever considered drawing COD characters outside of Modern Warfare series ? Like for example Black Ops or Ghosts.

Thanks so much for your time!!!!

hey there, anon! hehe, thank you so much!! i'm glad ya like my doodles!!

well!!! i've drawn [Keegan] once. but other than that, i really don't have the urge to draw anything related to Black Ops or Ghosts as for now! sooo the inspiration to draw any characters for those games are a bit non-existent.

i haven't kept up with the Black Ops games in years (i stopped playing after the 2nd installment.) and as for Ghosts, i've never had the chance to play it yet myself cuz i'm too lazy to boot up our PS4 (doesn't help that i've not played on consoles for months now too haha)

maybe i'll try picking up Black Ops again soon cuz i Have Been Itching on playing something new. but for now, i hope the MW Reboot characters are enough to satisfy everyone!

[dilatorywriting]

afdhjdjd so. Reaper!Rook brainrot anon here. Back again, because 3 is the magic number, and apparently I'm a liar and I actually have one last piece for you. Partly as thanks for putting up with me and my loonnngg text walls for the past couple days, and partly a "I hope you feel better soon! So here's something extra sweet"

So as you can imagine, the indifferent, apathetic, unbothered nature of Baker!Reader means they aren't generally flustered by things. Rook's flowery language is no exception, and conversations between the two generally look something like this to the outside viewer:

Rook: Alas! Your metal heart is missing! Where could it have wandered, from where I last saw it? MC: Second drawer on the right. (translation: Rook couldn't find the tea strainer. Your tea strainer happens to be heart-shaped.)

However, there are some things Rook does which make your chest feel warm. This is usually when he's speaking to you without much verbal dressage, and his voice is lower, and there's something softer in his eye.

The first time you really took notice of it was the first time Rook was ever late. Rook was always punctual to a fault, which, considering his line of work, was a true testament to his abilities. He always, without fail, returned to your bakery at 4:30am, since the day you met him. But it's now 5:30am, and he hasn't shown up yet. You're already halfway through prepping the bakewell batter, when you realize you're out of almond extract, and you remember you weren't even supposed to be making bakewell tarts today. Rooks absence weighs on the back of your mind a lot more than you'd ever expected it to, and you move through the prep in a distracted daze. You'd wondered before, in passing, if Rook would just simply disappear one day, once his curiosity was satisfied. You'd never dwelled on it long, because the thought was sour in your throat.

Rook arrives a little closer to 6. There's a lot of blood on him, and for the first time you wonder if any of it is his - if he can bleed at all, or be wounded. His shirt is also badly torn, but there dont seem to be any marks on him. The next thing you know, you're standing right in front of him, hands hovering awkwardly in the air before crossing over your chest. If Rook is surprised, he doesn't show it, but his typical, polished expression does seem a shade apologetic. He hands you a burlap sack as he launches into one of his flowery speeches. The words run over your head, but the gist of it is him apologizing for being late.

Inside the sack are three things: a wrapped cut of meat (from what? you have no idea), some dried lavender that appears to be glowing faintly, and - at this you blink - almond extract. You look up at him, only to find him watching you, with a cross between curiosity and... anticipation? Rook was very hard to read at times.

And it's hard to parse exactly what you feel, in that moment, but it's... something. Something that makes you get on your tip toes (your hand grabbing his shoulder for balance - it doesnt budge under your weight, like he's made of marble, or something), and press a kiss to his cheek as you tell him "thank you". Rook blinks, then smiles - a soft, fragile thing, unlike the strong, crafted ones that typically grace his face. He simply says "You're welcome," in a softer, quieter, tone than before. And you feel warm. A warmth in your chest that has nothing to do with the large ovens behind you.

(annnddd scene. I had this last piece of tooth rotting fluff stuck in my head, filed it away because I've poured sooooo much brainrot about Rook in your ask box alreadey, but then read that you have a cold so. I thought "You know what? Let's do it. Let's send in the extra sweet fluff like it's a get-well-soon card for one last hurrah")

Excuse me while I IMPLODE. Holy shit this is BEYOND ADORABLE. EVERY PART YOU'VE SENT IN IS A WHOLE ASS TREAT AND IT'S KILLING ME. I HOPE YOU KNOW HOW AMAZING YOU ARE, FRIEND BECAUSE AHHHHHHHHH

But yup. Nope. This cinches it. Hello Word Doc, my old friend. Welcome to a new Hyper Fixaxtion Hell

And thank you, thank you!! I'm hopefully getting over my ick! (Went to comic con this weekend while already not feeling 100% and it took me out. Been lying around like a dehydrated slug for the past two days lol) This is such a lovely treat. Thank you~ 💚 💚 

[themetalvirus]

Hi! Since it's your birthday, I thought that this would be the best date to tell you something.

I think your niche interest in fountain pens is fascinating. It's up to you how often you talk about it, of course. Regardless, I can't help but wish you would talk about it more often. I wanna know more details! Like, since when did you start having this interest? Are there more fountain pen doodles you'd like to share on your blog? Stuff like that.

Personally, I've been curious about fountain pens for a while. I never quite knew when or if to start looking into them, but now that I found your blog, I'm kinda interested in giving them a shot, even if just to satisfy my curiosity.

That's really it. I hope my anonymous ask doesn't come off as creepy, that's not my intention, but words through a screen alone don't do very well at communicating intentions and tone sometimes, I believe. Thanks for reading :)

oh my gosh thank you so much for reaching out!!!

since sonic isn't my special interest anymore (though it's still an interest!), i just don't doodle sonics as much as before. i'm still drawing with my FPs almost every day, but it's mostly danny phantom stuff and is posted on my main. im replying on my ipad and all the pics are taken on my phone (better camera) so i cant find them rn 😭

but yes im still way into them! your ask has some fortuitous timing because i JUST got myself a birthday gift of a new pen that i've been staring at forever. some unexpected money came in from an unrelated thing so i decided to treat myself to a lamy dialog cc in blue!

as to how i got into it, my ex girlfriend was really into dip pens and would send me videos she liked about fountain pens and how they worked. i've been interested in them for a while too, but the first three pens i got were all godawful and so i bounced off of the hobby for SEVERAL years before my ex ended up getting me back into it. she also got me into typewriters, if you would believe it. she got me the first FP that i'd ever liked, a twsbi eco, and i was hooked ever since.

not that i'm biased or anything but YOU SHOULD TOTALLY GET YOUR FIRST FP AND SEE HOW YOU LIKE IT. they're SO fun to use and are better for the environment than disposable pens, especially if you write in pen often. there's lots of options for different use cases too!

some folks swear by the pilot metropolitan, but i strongly dislike it and actually gave it to my ex as a gift while we were dating lol (she ended up really liking it actually). it just has a very short, slippery grip section and a teeny tiny ink capacity.

in short, actual recommendations: lamy safari (pros: reliable, cons: proprietary cartridges and converters), jinhao shark (cheap, reliable, takes international standard carts and converters!), twsbi eco (pros: writes smooth and juicy, ink capacity for days, cons: prone to cracking), platinum preppy (reliable writers but also very very prone to cracking)

feel free to ask for ANY details, i love talking about this SO MUCH so if you have any further questions PLEASE just let them at me! that goes for anyone curious about fountain pens, not just this anon. it'd be such a good bday gift blinking my eyes cutely at my followers

also this doesnt come off as creepy at all, i'm actually really flattered ^__^

[bigfootsmom]

I'm so curious what's like the synopsis of the lawsuit dom/sun fic

hi anon! let me try and satisfy that curiosity. This is a veeerrry old wip that I've been picking at for almost...two years? I started it while I was still in grad school, and it's rapidly approaching one full year since I graduated. I think I've posted about it before but I never tagged it so it's lost to the depth of my blog. From now on I'm going to be tagging any snippet from that wip as lawsuit dom/sub! Anyways, so synopsis time:

It takes place right after the grocery store fight. Buck spirals pretty bad because he's pretty good at catastrophizing and he lands in a pretty bad headspace (i want to be upfront and say this is in no way shape or form blamed on eddie or anyone else on the team). Both Buck and Eddie are kings of bad coping mechanisms. Eddie canonically with his fight club era and Buck, well he decides to go to a bdsm/kink club and do a scene with a stranger. He doesn't disclose he's on blood thinners and the scene goes about as well as you would expect.

Buck ends up dropping pretty hard and landing in a panic attack. The only person he asks for is Eddie, so Eddie (fresh from a fight) gets a call from "Buck" but when he picks up the phone it's a random club monitor on the other end saying Buck needs Eddie to come pick him up.

There's some assumptions made, misunderstanding, and soft tender hurt/comfort and aftercare. Buck seeks comfort in Eddie(NOT sex, not when they're both in not great headspaces) but when morning rolls around Buck realizes the canyon that's opened between them. Emotions run high, some things are said (they reconcile of course). Then there's a happy ending (feelings realization).

SORRY ANON THAT GOT LONG BUT I HOPE YOUR CURIOSITY HAS BEEN SATISIFIED!

[physically-lustful-spy]

thoughts on halloween?

I'm aware I should have answered this ask on the according date. Unfortunately, I simply missed it.

Halloween is yet another pitiful attempt by humanity to comprehend monstrosities beyond their understanding, romanticizing them and trying to make them seem fun… truly sickening.

Even then, there is one perk to that very day.

It's pleasantly easy to blend in.

I hope the answer I've provided satisfies your curiosity, dear anon.