#anyway. time for me to focus.

[tragedia]

made shiri and harlan in da4 cc.

this is mother as of veilguard.

forgot to take one of harlan in cc gfbjudsbjkb

anyway, love them sm. yes, i do like this hairstyle, but he also has curly hair fsdjbjfd. anywaaaaay.

[ciderjacks]

dad issues

+

(I think they were all fundamentally affected by what they saw and just collectively decided not to share the upsetting details)

[pricetagged]

Idk how to label this. Wifehunter John?

The idea of possessive/obsessive John manipulating a situation and stealing a wife for himself struck me, so just coughing the idea up while I sneak away for a coffee before I actually have to start work in 20 mins 💖 entirely unedited, abrupt ending

________

For someone married to his job, he has put quite a bit of thought into what he is looking for in a wife. Namely, that she's already married.

His reasoning is threefold. He can admit to himself, firstly, that it satisfies his need for control. Competency. He's a busy man with a demanding job. Not quite retired yet, no time to build his own from scratch. With this, he gets a wife boxed up and ready-trained. Broken in.

Secondly, the need for control bleeds into his saviour complex. She'll need a shoulder to cry on, someone strong and capable to get her back on her feet. She'll be feeling a little fragile. Needy. Perfect.

And thirdly, it does something wild to his jealous, possessive streak. The idea of taking something precious, of breaking her bond to another man and tying it to him? Delicious. The idea that she used to be someone else's, that he has to imprint himself onto her knowing that in doing so he is erasing the imprint of another man? It has his teeth aching, grinding even as heat rises in his belly. Stirs at him.

The idea swirls lazily in the back of his mind, never quite finding the right time or right partner. He bats at it a few times, lazy cat playing with the notion, seeing how far it can stretch before it snaps. Eyes up pretty things everywhere he goes, glancing down at their left hands just to check, but nothing quite tugs on that string. Until one day it does when he's outfitting the security system at your house.

It's side work. Cash in hand, word of mouth. Something to keep him busy when on mandated leave. Something to keep in mind as his retirement from active duty creeps closer. And your husband is a real piece of work, all blustering braggadocio energy. Young buck, not knowing his place in the herd. Not knowing that he'd be better scratching his antlers off on a tree than going head-to-head with a gristled thing like John.

It's like John's energy, his presence in the house, sends alarm bells ringing in your husband's mind (Be the man. Don't back down. Puff up your chest and strut). And it plays so perfectly into John's hands because your young buck doesn't realise that what he's really doing is fawning. To John. (Look at me, be impressed by me!) He makes his biggest mistake in putting you down in front of him, trying to sidle up to John and create some kind of desperate camaraderie. Ordering you to bring tea to the men at work. Rolling his eyes at your attempts to talk, to ask questions about the work being done. Waving you off so he can stand and watch the proceedings. Like he could supervise. Like he has any clue what he's doing.

Only the promise of the long game keeps John from levelling him with a hard look, from calling him outblike he'd love to.

He hears you both in the in the other room, having swatted the young buck off like a particularly virulent pest. Noisy and bothersome. Not needed - or wanted- in this home. And entirely too stupid to realise that John wasn't being jocular in his dismissal.

You've been scribbling away for the past few days, something occupying your time, keeping you happy and hidden away in the kitchen.

"You're not serious, are you?"

"Well, yes," he hears the slight quaver in your voice before you find your footing. You've got at least a bit of spine. Good. "You said that I should find an occupation. Not just 'laze around the house playing housewife'. This is what I-"

"Oh come on, I didn't mean- You don't think that this is viable, do you?"

"Well... I love gardening. And I'm good at it. And there's no reason that it can't be more accessible for people, especially with the current economic-"

He cuts you off with a scoff. "Dear, just- I don't want you to be disappointed. I think you don't quite understand the time and effort this will take. And you know nothing of marketing, publishing. Why don't you put that away and start on dinner?"

And oh, isn't that delicious. He can taste it now, that idea that has been swirling. It's thick, almost tangible on his tongue. The tension in the house, the bitter lacryma of stifled tears. The slight acidity of words you left unsaid. It has his mouth watering, pupils dilating.

And when he's packing up that evening, tools and materials tucked in to the heavy workman's case, he swings by the kitchen on his way out. Catches the way something is jutting out slightly from the bin, lid slightly askew. When he pulls it out he realises it's some kind of notebook, carefully (lovingly) bound. Pictures pasted, mindmaps and notes and plans scribbled in the margins. Your gardening tips. Kitchen scraps, window boxes, rooftop plots. Urban gardening. It's deeply thoughtful, well researched.

A labour of love, lying in the rubbish.

Sweet, clever little thing. That just won't do.

He leaves your house with a little piece of you tucked away in his toolkit and a nice plan forming. He'll be back, of course, not quite finished with his work. He'd planted a few little links into the system he'd almost installed, projecting not just to the monitor in your home but also in his. Got to keep his eyes on you, keep you safe and cared for in ways that your useless husband can't.

Finding that book was a boon. He'd say it was divinely ordained if he believed in all that. It weighs heavy in his toolbox as he whistles out the door.

Now, how to get you alone and return it to you..

________________

This idea may have been done before? I'm not sure, sorry! I've seen a lot of possessive John floating around. Tagging @stellewriites because I said I would last time, and you've been so encouraging of my nonsense.

Anyway I've got like 4 long-form WIPs that I'm working on, so I may never actually write this one but thought I'd share since that image set I just reblogged made me feral 💖

[xxplastic-cubexx]

what kind of underwear do you think Erik and Charles wear (i'm not asking this to see them half naked) ((please believe me)) (((PLEASE)))

My Personal Belief is charles is a briefs guy while erik's a trunks guy. trunks/briefs kinda couple because i can

and idk just a lil bonus or somethin. as i do.

[phoenixcatch7]

Okay but it's super interesting how

Din = Power = Ganondorf

Naryu = Wisdom = Zelda

Farore = Courage = Link.

Because Din, in the hylian creation myth, created the physical world. Naryu then created the laws - gravity, time, etc. And Farore finally created life - plants and people.

Din created the body, naryu the mind, Farore the soul.

And the triforce and its wielders so perfectly reflect that.

Ganon is physical power, he is big and intimidating and he breaks things. He is cunning and determined, but that's not what he focuses on. He is might makes right.

Zelda is wisdom and cleverness. She is stall tactics and information and team work. She is a powerful mage with a spine of steel, but that's not how she'll win. She is the pen being mightier than the sword.

Link is courage and persistence. He is the wild card sneaking behind enemy ranks, always moving, plunging into terrifying situations head first. He's a phenomenal fighter with a keen wit, but that's not what will get him through his challenges. He is bravery not being the absence of fear but the triumph over it.

They sit in perfect parallels to each other.

And ganon is reborn through his body - his resurrection is immortality. No matter how low he is cast, as long as he has a body he can claw his way back. He can cling to his power, build it ever higher.

Zelda is reborn through the magic of her bloodline. It's the accumulated knowledge handed down for generations, the unique power she must master, the skills she must develop to survive and get her kingdom out the other side intact. Even her name, the knowledge of herself, is handed down from all the way from the very first. Her ancestors knowledge of her future presence, her stability, is what gives her the edge.

Link is reborn in spirit. He is not bound by flesh or blood. Just like his wanderlust soul he can reappear in any time or place. His variation, his unpredictability, is exactly how he fights. It's what makes him so hard to pin down.

Ganons need to build strength means he can't chase after link. Links impulsiveness means zelda can outwit him. Zeldas stationary predictability means she's an easy target for ganon.

But the other direction?

Fire melts ice, ice redirects lightning, lightning burns fire.

And that's the very essence of the triforce.

[heraldofsomething]

Assassin's Creed: Odyssey Goddess of the Hunt

Come - the ibex is swift. We're not going to catch any by standing and chatting.

[iite-cool]

losing my mind thinking about being curled up in bed between simon and johnny, moaning straight into soap's ears as simon presses his long fingers up against the spot in your cunt that makes you squeal. he leans in to nibble at your earlobe and pour honey in your ear, "like my fingers in you, sweetheart? yeah? can feel you leaking around me, fuck. go on lovie, tell johnny how good I'm making you feel." you do as he says - of course you do - and curl your fingers in johnny's hair to pull him closer, holding onto him for dear life as he starts licking at your pert nipples, 'feels s'good, johnny ah- mmh feels so good!' and he can only take so much of your whimpering until he starts canting his own hips against yours, rubbing his painfully hard cock against the side of your hip.

simon grabs you firmly by the back of your neck to direct your attention back to him and he groans gutterally at the fucked-out look on your face. fuck he loves watching you go stupid bc of him. he presses his lips to yours in a wet kiss even though you're in no headspace to kiss back and just moan straight into his mouth all cross eyed. he sucks your tongue and lets his teeth scrape against it a little. simon speeds up the pump of his fingers in you when he feels your walls start to clench around him desperately, "you gonna cum for me, pet? yeah, you're gonna give it to me? 'course you are, such a good girl f'me, ain't ya?" you start to babble mindlessly, 'please simon, please si let me cum please- i'm so close, i'm gonna- i'm gonna cum- i'm gonna cummmm-!' your mouth parts in a silent scream and your nails dig so hard into simon's arm, he knows he'll be able to see it for days as you reach your climax, twitching and writhing.

both your boys come close to hold you through your peak and be there when you come back down to earth, and the whole time johnny's still humping his leaking dick against you, desperate for release. when you do come down and your eyes focus again, you have a dumb smile plastered across your face, all content and sated. "y'alright, pet?" you nod at simon and give him a sweet kiss and this is when he drops his hand back down to your cunt to collect some of your spilt wetness. you whine a little, still insanely sensitive, but shut up immediately when you see simon's fingers dripping with your nectar heading toward johnny, "open up, lad." you nearly keel over at the look on soap's face - his pupils are blown wide, charcoal swallowing ocean blue, with the most desperate look you've ever seen on him and he's flushed pink from the neck up. he wastes not a second laving his tongue around simon's fingers, moaning and drooling around them in his mouth. johnny's eyes roll back into his head and his hips jerk once twice three times until he stills and fills his boxers with his cum. you press kisses to his neck while he comes down with simon's fingers scratching the shaved sides of his head. you take some time to revel in the warmth of the bubble created with your loves before you roll on top of simon to return the favour, signalling to johnny to do the same.

masterlist

please comment i have so many thoughts about these men that need to be talked about

[turtleblogatlast]

Something I like about Leo is that he’s honestly really chill? It’s easy to remember the moments where he’s being obnoxious or excitable but I feel like most of the time he’s incredibly “go with the flow” and has an overall affable demeanor.

[acekindaneat]

do you guys think serizawa has seen reigen somewhere before in passing

reference + another version under cut!

i knowww it's an old redraw thing but i wanted to redraw serizawa in it for so long... here's a version without the vignette

[feelo-fick]

miscellaneous au doodles + a VERY self indulgent song lyric comic :D

+ extra evil comic below the cut :

"chil!" "don't look at me like that..."

[lighthouseshepard]

it is. done.

[eggsplice]

They’re parasites. You know what it means to be a parasite, right, Tommy? You know it real intimately.

(Excerpt from 'when a house is both hungry and awake' by logsteds)

[strawglicks]

friends :)

[gen4grl]

a nap in the sun

[deoidesign]

Ray of sunshine

(pre-launch page for their comic)

[szaryherbatnik]

Uhhh bling bling bitch

More purple version if u care because i truly cant decide which one i like more idk szare nation this was the main version earlier but i decided i prefer the less purple one