#answered . *

[johnprice-asks]

Im the one of the right.

Nikolai and Price sending each other chest pictures at their gyms:

[exilethegame]

Man I can’t stop replaying The Exile (The twine and the original lol). Your writing is so good and I love how you write all your characters! Sorry if this has been asked before or this comes across as pushy or impatient, but is there any updates to chapter 2? The last I heard was a possible release for November or something along those lines. I totally understand if you’ve been busy with other things though!

Ah thank you!

Yes, there were some delays. Mainly health stuff and then holiday stuff. As of now, Chapter 2 is being wrapped up but I'm currently away from the computer that has the files to actually do that. So I'm currently working on Chapter 6 in the meantime!

Here's a Vethna romance snippet from it :P

---

"I was worried you wouldn't come," you confess. Your voice is hoarse and weak, your eyes heavy. But you refuse to fall asleep with them here, even if their very presence alone has you feeling more relaxed by the second. Safe.

Vethna's brows furrow as they lean over you. You can smell the scent of lavender perfume clinging to their hair as it falls from their shoulders, tickling your face.

"Why wouldn't I have?" they ask softly. Their thumb strokes your cheek. You swallow thick, unsure of what to say.

You're used to being left behind. Used to being forgotten. Used to being unwanted.

"Look at me, Veth," you mutter. Covered in bandages head-to-toe, reeking of gauze and blood.

They do. Their eyes rake over your face, flittering over your features. You can see the concern in their gaze, the way their lips press softly together in empathy. And then they're leaning in closer, pressing a soft kiss to both of your temples. They let out a soft sigh then, breath warm on your skin before they tuck their face into the top of your head.

"You call and I'll come," Vethna reassures, mumbling against you. "Always."

[lowpolyanimals]

hello lowpolyanimals, do you happen to have other socials? Was curious if you were on bluesky

hey! i am not on anything other than tumblr :) there are other low poly animal themed content curators out there on other platforms but they are run by different people

[canisalbus]

Hi there!

It's great to see you posting again. I noticed you weren't around and was worried. As a fellow person with depression and anxiety, I hope you're in a stable place and taking the time you need.

.

[strawberryblondebutch]

hi! Random question maybe, but you seem very knowledgeable about hockey: there's a post on the PWHL subreddit right now asking about the differences between PWHL and NHL hockey. A lot of people in the comments are saying the skill level in the PWHL is much lower, which to me a weird statement for multiple reasons, but I don't know enough to disagree or agree with certainty. Do you have any thoughts? In general, what do you think are the differences between the style of play in the two leagues right now (other than ofc level of physicality l)?

That is a weird statement, which I'll get into in a second. To me, the biggest differences are such.

Fundamentals. This is not a PWHL-specific statement. It also applies to the WNBA vs. the NBA, and baseball players drafted out of college vs. high school. With truly all the respect and love to my prep school coaches, college is where you learn how to play your sport. You get by on raw talent until you hit the college level (or, for Canadian men's hockey players, the junior level) and then you learn how to actually play. Men are spending 1-2 years in college before leaving for the show. Women do a full 4-5. It's hard to imagine someone like Jason Robertson (who I love) succeeding in the women's game, because he's not a very good pure skater. He got by on his raw offensive ability. If he were coming up through the NCAA, someone like Mark Johnson or Matt Desrosiers would have grabbed him and said, "You're doing extra shifts in the barn until you stop looking like you're drowning out there."

"Then the skill in nhl level is just insane. Passes are perfect, players can handle bouncing pucks easily, and most importantly positioning is excellent - players are almost always where they are supposed to be (because they are big and fast) so zone entry/exit is super smooth.

60 minutes of Flyers hockey would kill this Redditor. I can assure you passes are not perfect and positioning is abysmal in the NHL, because again... these are the fundamentals that players would learn if they weren't plucked out of college/juniors on the basis of their raw, unhoned talent.

Roster construction. This is largely a function of limited roster space. The PWHL has less than 1/4 the positions than the NHL does. In the men's game, each line has a defined role. The first two forward lines are your top scorers, the third line does most of the checking and defensive play, and your fourth O-line is meant to tucker out the opponents' best scorers. The PWHL doesn't really have checking lines, because there aren't really checking specialists. Instead, lines are determined by the whims of the coaches by a combination of seniority and "riding the hot hand" - players who score more get more ice time.

Goaltending. PWHL goalies are smaller than NHL goalies and working with the same size net. Someone like Ivan Fedotov (6'8") can take up more space just by standing there than someone like Emerance Maschmeyer (5'6"). As a result, PWHL goalies tend to be far more mobile, and they start their post-to-post movement early, trying to anticipate where the shot will come from so that they can physically get there and block it.

Speed vs. acceleration. I think the comments about size that people in that thread were mentioning are largely overblown because they forget that everything is relative. It only really counts in two dimensions. The first is in goaltending. The second is in movement. Taller players can cover more ground with each push, which helps with their speed. Smaller players, because they aren't dragging as much weight around the ice with them, can push off from a stop faster, which helps their acceleration. It's why KCS is such a pain in the ass to play against: if she and I are both standing at the starting line, she (5'2", 125 lbs) can take off much faster than I (5'10", 170 lbs) can. I can hope to close the distance by using my strength and stride, but she's got the edge on that first 200 ft. Hey, you know what else is 200 feet? A hockey rink. She beat me to the other end.

[missterious-figure]

Little oneshot about Underboss Sun and florist y/n! This takes place after florist y/n has met Sun, but doesn't know he is in the mafia yet.

Sun was walking his usual route to head over downtown where he needed to attend to some "business". Though, he was slightly more upbeat then usual. It wasn't very noticeable in his stoic appearance, but anyone who knew him could tell. There was a certain soft fondness in his eyes. The look he only had when thinking of something he loved or cared about. And of course, it was you. He remembered the first time he had met you, as he was curious when your flowershop had opened a couple weeks ago. He had wandered in to check things out and make sure nothing fishy was going on in there.

He reminisced on how terrified you had been (rightfully so) when he squeezed through the doors and looked around your little shop. You tried you best to smile and talked kindly to him. You had even offered him a potted plant for free. (Which he now took extra good care of). Ever since then, he had decided to stop at your little shop every time he walked downtown. Gradually, you started becoming genuinely friendly with him, and he began to warm up to you. So small and sweet, just trying to brighten up this bad part of town with your little plants. You really had no idea how dangerous this place was. How dangerous he could be...

He shook away his thoughts as he neared your little shop. He could smell the sweet fragrance of the well kept flowers you were selling. He reached the door and gently opened it, before turning sideways, bending down, and going through shoulder first. Soon he got his big bulk inside and let the door closed behind him. He was greeted with the sound of soft sobs. He saw you leaning against the wall behind the register with your face buried in your hands. Not noticing Sun yet, you trembled quietly, another soft sob escaping you.

He quickly approached you and joined you behind the counter. Hearing his foot steps, you looked up from your hands. He gently put his hands on your shoulders and used his massive thumb to clear away the tears from your right eye.

"Doll, what happened?"

As you looked up at him, your little eyes full of tears, Sun noticed that the skin around your left eye was purple and swollen. Definitely from being whacked or punched. It was purposeful and definitely no accident. Thankfully, it didn't look to bad.

"Oh... you poor thing. Got a little banged up... who did this to you?"

You could only sniffle and sob for a moment, but he didn't rush you or hassle to speak. He patiently waited for you to respond.

"A customer... he punched me when I told him I was out of the kind of flower he wanted."

You paused and sniffled again.

"I think he was really drunk... I could smell it on his breath... I-I was so scared..."

You broke into another fit of sobs, fresh tears dampening your eyes again. Sun could feel a boiling rage building up in his chest. His internal fans roared with fury. But he forced himself to keep a calm composure. He gently pulled you into his body, wrapping his arms around you. You stuffed you face in his suit and sobbed even more, leaning into him. He tried his best to comfort you.

"There, there. It'll be okay..."

"Do you know the man's name, doll?"

"I think it was John Flink? Or maybe Fint... I hadn't heard him very well..."

Your voice was very muffled as you hadn't taken your face out of Sun's suit, but he instantly knew who it was. John Flint, that scumbag. He was a shady bastard that often gambled at the bar that Don Eclipse went to. Sun had no clue why he of all people had come to your little flowershop. But that didn't matter. This was going to be the last mistake that slimy weasel ever made. How dare he hurt you. How dare that rat touch his precious little doll.

John was going to pay, but all in good time. For now, Sun was had to help you calm down. He stayed there for quite a while, holding you can trying to make you feel safe...

***

(I'm not sure what the actual plot of the mafia au will be yet, but I honestly might have a few different versions, changing different perspectives and ideas depending each y/n. Some people suggested having y/n have all of the jobs at the same time, and I really like that idea! But I also like the idea of how each y/n might react or fair with the boys on their own. I do think i want to do both...)

Full picture!

[001x456]

any AU ideas for gihun x inho? ☺️

Gi-hun as the Front Man and In-ho as a Player (in the same game)

Flower Shop AU where Gi-hun is the owner of the flower shop, In-ho is his regular customer who buys flowers from him to bring to his wife’s gravestone — as time goes by, Gi-hun and In-ho become closer, and they slowly and unconsciously develop feelings for each other

Coffee Shop AU where In-ho is still the Front Man, but Gi-hun was never a Player. Before the game starts, In-ho thinks he’ll get himself some coffee and visits the shop Gi-hun works at (so they don’t know each other prior to this). Nothing happens until Gi-hun gets clumsy and spills hot coffee (an entire cup) on In-ho’s crotch

Zombie AU where Gi-hun and In-ho were originally enemies as Player 456 and the Front Man, but due to the outbreak, the game stops and Gi-hun and In-ho become the only two survivors. They have to stick together if they want to keep on surviving

High School AU where Gi-hun and In-ho went to the same school. In-ho was always the target of the bullies, until one day Gi-hun saw In-ho getting assaulted by his bullies, so he stepped in and saved In-ho. And he’d been protecting In-ho during the rest of their school days since. They hadn’t seen each other again after they graduated, until In-ho became the Front Man and realized Player 456 was Gi-hun, the kind friend who always kept him safe back then. Also the friend he had a crush on but was too shy to confess his feelings

Feel free to use any of these as an inspiration for a fic / fan art or edit. Credit is not necessary but I'd love to see what you made from them so I'd be more than happy to be tagged :)

[freeuselandonorris]

honestly would kill to see your take on any kink ever, but I must admit I haven't been able to get your thoughts on electrostim out of my mind since you shared them so. that one. (+camshow if you're feeling it 👀)

ps.: I did have a good festive season, and I hope you did too!! 🫶🫶

glad to hear it! 🫰 mine has been. mixed. but mostly good thank u!

obviously could not resist this one. enjoy oscar being the stone cold freak for once!

Lando had asked to see it, mainly because he didn’t entirely believe Oscar was telling the truth. 

Oscar was cool and everything. Funny, with a saucy mouth on him once you got to know him. But you had to admit the guy came off as — well. Vanilla. 

So when they’d gotten pissed together on leftover Moët in Lando’s suite and Oscar had picked up the TENS machine Jon had left in there, turned it over in his hands and said, “are you into electrostim?” in tones of nervous delight, Lando hadn’t even considered it might be some sort of weird sex thing.

What the fuck is electrostim? he’d asked, tipping the remnants of his glass down his throat, which meant he didn’t notice Oscar’s horrified expression for a few seconds. 

“Nothing,” Oscar said quickly, but by that point Lando had clocked the blush spreading rapidly across his cheeks and perked right up. Even then, he’d figured it was something embarrassing, but not — that. 

He’d not believed it, when Oscar explained it. How you could wire up the same kind of machine Jon used to zap the cramps out of his aching thighs and stick it round your cock. Not that Oscar said it so brazenly. There was a lot of umm-ing and err-ing, a lot of vague hand gestures and stuttering, before Lando got the picture. 

“Fuck off,” Lando said when Oscar finished stammering out the barest of explanations. “Really? You?”

”Jesus, Lando,” Oscar said, somewhere between exasperated and indignant.

“I bet you a hundred quid you can’t,” Lando said. 

Oscar shrugged. “Believe what you like.”

Lando, whose impulse control was bad at the best of times and even worse combined with half a bottle of champagne and a burgeoning stiffy, picked the machine up from where Oscar had dropped it onto the coffee table and held it out. “Show me?”

Oscar gaped at him. He was redder than Lando had ever seen him, but he didn’t look mad or anything. Just — blindsided, maybe. 

“Not now,” Oscar said eventually. His voice came out in a kind of croak, and he cleared his throat before he spoke again. “Maybe — maybe some other time.”

Lando knew a brush-off when he saw one, so he shrugged and changed the subject and tried not to feel too mortified about it. Oscar made his excuses after another glass, sloped off to his own bedroom, and Lando put the whole embarrassing affair out of his mind. 

When his phone buzzed a week later with a text from Oscar, he had to read it twice before he understood it.

Osc 19:48 Hey. I took a video if you’re still interested. No worries if not, don’t want to pressure 🙂

Lando breathed out hard through his nose, blinking at his phone.

lando 19:50 thats the politest sext i’ve ever had yeh i am pls

Osc 19:51 🙄 it was hardly a sext [video attached]

The thumbnail was blurry, a flash of maroon and some squiggles that might be wires. Lando swallowed hard, thumb hovering over the play button. He tapped it.

”Okay,” Oscar’s voice came from the phone’s speaker, quiet. Lando kicked the volume up a couple of notches, watching a confusion of movement. Oscar’s torso, clad in his usual plain t-shirt, and a pair of khaki knee-length shorts, open at the waist. The wires Lando had spotted led out to a hand-held control box, similar to the one Jon used but a different model. 

On-screen, Oscar cleared his throat. “Had it on for five minutes or so already,” he said. His voice was a little shaky, like he was nervous. He swallowed audibly before he spoke again. “So I’m a little — I’m already, you know.” A soft laugh. “Sorry, don’t know how well I’ll be able to, um, talk you through it. Let me just — I’ll just show you.”

He exhaled, audibly steeling himself, and Lando felt himself mirror the action unconsciously. His hands were sweating enough to worry he might drop his phone. He swore under his breath and hit pause on Oscar, heading through to his bedroom and flopping back onto the bed. After a moment’s deliberation, he shoved his own shorts down to mid-thigh. He wasn’t hard yet, but — well. Better to have the option. 

He hit play. Oscar-on-the-screen hummed thoughtfully and then the screen blurred again. Some scuffling sounds that made Lando wince, the screen going briefly dark and then bleaching light again until Oscar came back into focus from the neck down to mid-thigh, standing in what looked like his bathroom with the camera, presumably, propped on the sink. 

“Right, that’s better,” Oscar said, and breathed out again, a short sharp exhalation. “Okay, here goes.” 

He put the control box down, out of shot, and visibly straightened his spine before he pushed his shorts down. No boxers. Oscar, Lando thought admiringly. I wouldn’t have thought you had it in you.

It took the camera a few moments to focus, but when it did, Lando bit back a groan. Oscar’s cock was thick, semi-hard, and covered in wires. A thick black loop of it cinched tight around the base, and another snug beneath the head of his cock, trailing a black wire. 

“Had it on low,” Oscar said. “I’ll turn it up a bit.”

His hand reached out of frame and adjusted something, and he gasped. His cock jerked, filling out in front of Lando’s wide eyes. Oscar made a soft noise, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he adjusted something else that made his cock jump again, a tiny rhythmic pulse. 

“Ah,” Oscar said. “That’s — about halfway now. Feels pretty intense.”

He adjusted himself with one hand, pulling the top loop of wire a little tighter with the plastic toggle tucked up tight beneath the head. His long fingers hovered for a second, like he was struggling not to jack himself off, help things along. 

Lando let out a string of curses beneath his breath and grabbed himself. He thumbed at the bottom of the screen to bring up the playback bar. Jesus, the video wasn’t even a quarter of the way through yet. 

He watched Oscar’s cock get harder, bobbing in midair. Lando tuned himself into it after a minute or so. He could tell when Oscar adjusted the intensity of the current by the way Oscar’s cock flushed red, jolting against his belly, the veins on the underside pulsing beneath his foreskin. 

Still, it made him gasp when Oscar’s cock blurted thin clear liquid. It trickled down the side of his cock and dropped out of sight. 

“Yep,” Oscar said tightly. “Yeah, it’s. Getting good now.”

“Oh my God, Oscar,” Lando said to his empty room, voice shocked and shaking. 

Oscar hummed again, a low rumble in his chest. When he spoke again, it sounded like an effort. “Sometimes it makes me, uh. I think it stimulates my bladder or something, so — just to warn you.”

Lando let out a shuddering breath, blinking hard at the screen. This was insane. Both of them had clearly lost their minds. He wondered, for a brief paranoid second, whether this was some sort of sophisticated deepfake scam and he was going to have his bank account emptied or his DMs leaked yet again. But no, Oscar had said it to his face. 

“Right,” Oscar’s voice came over the speaker. “Gonna take it up another notch. It’s getting — it’s strong now.” 

Lando could hear it now. A faint ticking sound, barely there, pulsing in time to the jerk of Oscar’s swollen cock. Oscar pulled up the hem of his t-shirt with one hand and clenched his abs, gasping. 

“Ah, jeez,” Oscar gritted out, and on the screen, his cock jumped and let out a spurt of liquid. It spattered wet against his stomach, dripping down. Too far away from the camera to be able to see what it was. 

Lando curled his toes into the bedding. He was wanking furiously now, skin slapping against skin sounding overly loud in the room compared to the processed sound of Oscar’s heavy breaths. On the screen, Oscar’s cock was pulsing rhythmically, drooling clear liquid with every movement. Little droplets ran down the shaft, dripping to the floor. The hem of Oscar’s t-shirt had fallen down again when he’d let go of it, and it was dark and damp. Lando found himself wanting to suck it clean.

”Not—” Oscar’s breath hitched on a moan. “Not long now.” 

You’re telling me, Lando thought wildly, squeezing himself around the base to try to calm himself down. He was panting, thighs flexing with the need to come, but Oscar hadn’t yet, and he wanted to see it. 

“Okay,” Oscar was saying on the screen, more to himself than the camera. “Gonna — gonna turn it up to max now, and that’ll probably do it.”

He reached out then and picked up the phone, bringing it closer to his straining cock. As the camera moved, Lando caught a glimpse of his face, red and shining with sweat. 

“Ready?” Oscar’s voice came over the speakers, and Lando moaned at the shock of being directly addressed. 

Oscar reached his other hand out to the control unit, and Lando saw his thighs clench, his cock lurch violently. 

“Oh, fuck,” Oscar rasped. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—” 

He came, untouched and messy, spraying across his t-shirt. Before he knew it, Lando was coming too, letting it get all over his own stomach as Oscar’s ragged gasps echoed in his ears. 

Lando stopped coming before Oscar did. Oscar’s cock was red and angry-looking, still spurting thin liquid every few seconds as his thighs shook visibly. Then the screen tilted dizzily, and the video stopped.

Lando stared at the screen, shell-shocked. His brain felt like it had been hollowed out. 

“Fucking hell,” he croaked to the phone. He wanted to laugh, slightly hysterical. Instead he wiped his sticky hand on his shirt and swiped out of the video, back to his message thread with Oscar.

lando 20:03 omfg wow

A second later, Lando’s phone vibrated, but there was no reply in his thread with Oscar. Instead, there was a notification from his bank. Lando opened it.

Oscar Piastri has requested funds! Oscar Piastri has requested £100.00 GBP.  Message from recipient: “Told you so.” Accept request to transfer funds?

[anonfoxsblog]

Goodness gracious, your ass is fat as fuck 🥵

I hope that’s a compliment right? 😂🙏💖 to spare my feelings I’m going to take it that way …

[str8upjorkinit]

Happy new year!!

Can you draw the vagastrom ghouls having a new years grill?

happy new year indeed

[pseudophan]

At what point of no signs of life do we start to worry about dan and phil

lets give them the first week of january at least lmao, they always take that time off! it just seems more extreme in very recent years because they don't post anything on social media either, but i think at some point they realised that's also work and while the act of tweeting isn't exactly hard labour it still comes with thousands of people interacting and in the interest of having a proper holiday where they can relax 100% i fully understand why they prefer to just go radio silent

[rwac96]

Whiteknight, Future AU

After their winter holiday vacation, weiss trying to break juniper Arc's record holds a positive pregnancy test, her 4 children cheered, jaune and their eldest daughter hoping its going to be just one not twins or triplets.

Weiss: *holding a positive pregnancy test, giddy* "YES! More children, and close to breaking your mother's record!"

*Weiss and her four children cheered, while Jaune and their eldest daughter looked on in dread*

Jaune: *deep exhale* "Oh, please be a single baby...not twins or triplets."

[utilitycaster]

thank you so much for your analysis on BH, Ive been thinking for ages that they seemed like the wrong fit for this particular campaign and it's nice to see that I'm not alone. It kinda baffled me that even knowing the crux of the campaign was going to be about the fate of the gods, Matt didn't like... just tell the cast that their characters opinion on divinity would be important?

I really feel like this plot needed more religious characters, even if they weren't outright clerics or paladins. The only one filling that role is Sam and while I love him and FCG his approach to religion seems kinda... cynical? shallow? Possibly just more focused on the goofs of it all. Which is a fine choice in a vacuum but god, what I wouldn't do for this party to have a Caduceus or even a Vax figure so it didn't feel like a bunch of agnostics were deciding the fate of religion.

So here's my opinion, and I've said this before: I agree that making characters who had a coherent, developed opinion on divinity before the campaign that was discussed as part of the character build is important...but I actually don't think it matters if there's no clerics or paladins or even religious characters. I also said this before: my ultimate problem, in the end, is not just the indecision but the fact that they're not even exploring indecision; they just are drifting through a narrative from which they feel disconnected. I as a person viewing the show think killing the gods is a dumb idea, but a campaign in which the characters confidently embraced an anti-god position and took actions in the service of that goal would be infinitely more enjoyable. I do not need characters to live out my personal values, because I do that in my real life, in the same way that I can enjoy characters who are vastly different than I in personality.

I think Keyleth is a fantastic example of both indecision as an actual conscious character trait (during Campaign 1) and a character who is not religious or even particularly respects the gods but who seems to have actually thought through the implications and made an assessment. Keyleth's analysis paralysis and fear of making a harmful decision or being hurt is the point of the character, and Marisha explores it directly during Campaign 1; it is ultimately what is holding Keyleth back from becoming the leader she needs to be, and working through it is the arc of her character. Avoidance or indecision is a fantastic character flaw to explore (Bellara in Veilguard is a recent example that's been on my mind) but it is a character flaw to be explored, and for the character to do something interesting with, and Bells Hells just...as I've said, drift. They keep going through open doors because they are there and never say "do I even want to go through this door? Why or why not?" and the entire purpose of a character in fiction, in my opinion, is to ask that question.

I actually pretty strongly disagree about FCG. I think they took a bit longer than I'd like to click but I actually found FCG's exploration of religion to be one of the deeper ones in the series. I think the party often disparaged it, and the fandom certainly did ("Fearne should make that stupid robot eat his own coin" will remain burned in my brain forever; I cannot take someone who said that as anything but a shriveled husk of a person unless they admit it was horribly mean-spirited and they regret it) but FCG is the rare member of Bells Hells who actually explored the concept of having autonomy and agency - that was his entire arc, actually - and to have this be told through embracing the god of chance and freedom, whom he learned about by chance, was a highlight of the campaign. I would strongly advise you reconsider seeing this as nothing but a bit; just because Sam tends to make a lot of dumb jokes doesn't mean he's not often telling a pretty profound story underneath, and this is a lesson it took me until this campaign to learn, to be honest. But I will say I don't think FCG being here now would fix things any more than Braius does, in part because the rest of the party looked down on faith but also didn't really condemn it. They just made vaguely unkind comments and continued doing fuck all. As my ask earlier today said, they didn't actually challenge each other; they just sort of passive-aggressively bitch. The point that many people made very early on, that Bells Hells has a veneer of cooperation and civility but lack the actual true bonds that only arise through working through conflict, remains true.

Getting back to it, I think the fact that NPCs who are not affiliated with the Prime deities nor Betrayer Gods and even struggle against them (Percy, Keyleth; the entire Kryn Dynasty; a massive number of entirely secular governments including the Clovis Concord, the remnants of the Cerberus Assembly, as far as I know the Marquesian governments, the Silken Squall) are unambiguously against Ludinus and the release of Predathos means that it's not the lack of clerics or paladins or everyday religious people. I don't care if agnostics decide the fate of the world, but DAMN those agnostics better have a fucking vision for what the world should be. I could talk at length about why I think killing the gods is a deranged and unrealistic solution to the problems the characters claim to think it will fix, but ultimately I don't even feel like the characters care about those problems. The titans are still going to be fucking dead, conquest and colonialism already exist within Exandria without the aid of any gods. Hell, Ashton's whole situation could be replicated precisely again in a world with no gods; and as the Ruidusborn were created by Predathos as keys to release it, I don't think there's a reason to have any more but I don't think that's really what Imogen was going for. It's the same kind of thing we call rapture culture among terminally online types: the idea that with one big act of violence you will usher in a new, better age. The idea that violent change is inherently for the better is infantile and utterly self-centered, as is the idea that putting off a choice until it becomes inevitable is anything other than selfish and stupid. I would rather the choice of the fate of the gods come from atheists who weren't infantile and self-centered and selfish and stupid than clerics and paladins who were. That's it.

[chevroletdean]

hi liane!! they are indeed very cute and kisses are my weakness fr🥺 so um how about feather light kisses with dean? also totally unrelated but you have the same name as my sister which is so very cool cause i’ve never met anyone w the name!!<3 (it’s such a pretty name)

feather-light kisses [55 + dean] ── ✮⋆˙

Pairing: Dean x Fem!Reader Genre: Fluff, fluff, fluff To note/warnings: none, just toothrotting sweet kissy kisses Word count: 400 A/N: hiii!!! thanks for the request <3 and omg, tysm haha, i always feel like it's an old-fashioned name (i've met two or three elderly women named liane), but i've grown to like it. GREETINGS TO YOUR SISTER!

kisses askgame here 💋

Dean’s hands are always on her. That’s a set in stone rule.

His fingers always find a way to glue themselves onto her body somehow. Whether it be holding her hand, resting his on top of her thigh whenever he’s driving, etc.

His lips? Similar story, but so much more delicate.

It’s such a contrast — his rough, calloused hands feel good against her skin. They’re scarred, but protective and firm. Solid and strong.

Much unlike his kisses, which are so gentle, so soft, like an angel’s feather brushing her soul.

Even when the kiss is deep and passionate, there’s always something careful in his ministrations. As if he’s afraid to break her or stain her with his touch.

Dean loves kissing her.

To him that’s the equivalent of breathing. Her taste more essential than oxygen itself.

Feeling her mouth against his is as addictive as pecking her cheek, her temple, any and every inch of her body.

If he had to pick a favorite spot, he’d say it’s a tie between her nose and the corner of her mouth.

The first is the center of her pretty face and he’s obsessed with watching red warmth spread from the middle, across her cheeks, down her neck. She gets so flustered when he places light kisses on the tip of her nose.

As she does with the second option. Though he has to admit, he might like that one a bit more, because it never fails to make you smile. Like his kiss is able to pull that very corner upwards magically.

If possible, he’d do it 24/7, the same way he’s trying to with touching her.

He doesn’t need his mouth to speak or even smile or frown. The whole purpose of his lips, his tongue, his teeth are worshipping his girl.

It’s what he was made for.

Especially at night, in the sweetest limbo of pillow talk and falling asleep, his lips graze her forehead and he’s holding her close. It almost tickles, like her lashes do when they’re fluttering against her cheekbones, heavy and drowsy with fatigue.

Dean’s chaste pecks draw an invisible line across her hairline, like a halo. His warm breath weaves sweet dreams into her hair, whispering sweet nothings until she relaxes in his arms.

Dean Winchester Taglist (Put a green heart 💚 in the comments to be added to the Dean x Reader taglist): @ladysparkles78 @ariasong11 @winchester-whiskey @whormotional @spacecowgirl126

@zepskies @calibootsgirl @hot-and-confused @spookyfunhottub @berryblues46

@midnight--raine @emmy21842 @whichwitchwanda @foxyjwls007 @lyarr24

@whump-loverz @cassieriddle713 @ilovedeanwinchester4

[satyr-hole]

No new year selfies?

Here ya go!