#anyways lore under the cut

[identityquest]

Ghosted

Lore drop 💖

If you're unaware of my little narrative, called Deep Breath, the inciting incident is the partial collapse of the main characters' universe. This collapse destroys Earth and kills all of humanity except for three survivors: Penny, Jia Su, and Romsir. Though all human technology has been obliterated, and though they live literally on the other side of their universe now, all three humans still have perfect connectivity on their cell phones. Mysterious!

The currently-planned first chapter of Deep Breath focuses on Romsir, the last survivor and person in this comic, and their friend Charlie observing and reacting to the approaching apocalypse. Neither takes it well. Ultimately, Romsir is in the right place at the right time to be rescued at the last second, while Charlie unfortunately perishes. She is intended to be a ghost haunting the rest of the narrative for Romsir, both literally and figuratively. Romsir deletes each message they receive from Charlie, but they are unable to bring themself to block her.

The other two humans, Penny and Jia, both suffer this strange phenomenon as well.

Penny, a normally exuberant young woman, quietly suffers these messages without telling the others. Though they all know this strange phenomenon has no sapience behind it (it's just strange feedback from a strange universe), Penny keeps every stray message from her contacts and regularly looks through them when she's alone.

Jia suffers from survivor's guilt, largely because his many siblings were left behind while he was rescued by his god-like father. The messages pile up on him, driving him to isolate out of grief and guilt, until a dam finally bursts and he blocks every number in his phone.

[p0rchc0ll4ps3]

comparing case notes on the ride home at the end of a long day

did all the perspective myself! it kinda' turned out jank but it's what it's. i'll get better at it eventually

really tried to capture the essence of revachol architecture style with this. the metro lines were built by the communards in '79 of the last century, about 11 years into the dictatorship. various cities in revachol have metro, but none are as extensive as jamrock's metro. however, due to mismanagement and embezzlement and war, a lot of the metro stations remain unfinished, especially in the poorest parts of the city (for example, it was never finished in the coal city district of jamrock, which is big enough to count as it's own city. the metro line was dug out, but the tracks were never layed due to the project never reaching completion and due to the commies not really caring to build out there. in the valley of the dogs, which is in west jamrock and about as poor as coal city, the metro wasn't even built at all due to there being a huge immigrant population out there and a lot of bullshit from the government). anyways a lot of homeless people live out in those abandoned stations. this among a billion other things really adds to how much east revachol and its slightly richer cities really think lowly of west revachol and jamrock despite not being much better off themselves

the metro cars and the metro stations are built in the neo-perikinassian style that the communards favored for all their structures (neo-perikinassian is an elysium equivalent to our neo-classical style). this style intends to give a vibe of old world richness and power and strong authoritative government, while also attempting to create a strong, national revacholian architectural style, celebrating insulinde's original pagan origins by reflecting traditional folk patterning. communism in revachol wanted to be purely revacholian, taking zero influence from the colonies that revachol used to rule over. the dictatorship did away completely with insulinde's original colonial past, trying to embrace a new totally revacholian identity and erasing anything deemed not revacholian. unfortunately, revachol is an immigrant country, with a history of colonialism and slavery, and a LOT of that has become a huge part of revacholian and insulindian culture. revachol is a melting pot, a mixture of influences from all over. the communists tried to erase this and make a new identity, but of course this attempted to erase everything else that makes revachol revachol. so in trying to make a new, purely revacholian identity, they erased true revachol from the books.

anways, they favored the neo-perikinassian art style with folk embellishments, but because revachol is revachol, there are also a whole lot of style moderne (revachol's art deco, a lot of airships, sunrises, and anti-pale shit) and noul stil (revachol's art nouveau which involves a lot of ocean and air organic motifs instead of flowers and the like) influences of course. as you can see here, there's noul stil motifs in the way that the lights are pearls and that they have waves on them. in fact, to go on yet another tangent, revachol's 'new disco' architecture, which started in jamrock during the new with the building of skyscrapers and new buildings in the style and spread to the rest of revachol, is a modern day revival of style moderne and noul stil that combines elements of both (i get a very og wizard of oz emerald city vibe).

anyways that's my lore essay. i really wanted to capture the feeling of being in revachol, specifically jamrock. the metro cars are also slightly based off bucharest's communist metro cars as well as the newer ones, but of course with a lot of wood instead because revachol and elysium are in a sort of era with their technology that mixes something of a industrial revolution 1890s victorian london, 1910s america and big cities right before the advent of skyscrapers and cars but also 1920s tech, and 1970s radio tech and all that shit. idk. some fucked up conglomeration

also guy on the left is someone from my de server's oc. i don't know their tumblr otherwise i'd tag!

oh and i tried to capture some kind of how the people of revachol are in general all types of people from many different ethnicities etc. and and the guy in the back looking at harry is one of jean's friends, enzo, who, after getting rejected from the rcm for being too violent (which is a big deal bc the rcm celebrates violence), joined la puta madre and now works to double-cross both lpm and rcm, doing what benefits him best. when jean and harry got captured by the lpm about 3 years back and almost died, it was enzo who saved them. enzo's one of jean's many connections he has in the city. harry doesn't remember him (but he will eventually. he has to figure out at some point where that big nasty scar on his stomach's from).

btw i spent like a wholeass hour or two one day trying to figure out what type of wood revachol would have because the commies use ONLY LOCAL RESOURCES. so i needed to figure out what type of wood they'd have. and i figured it was some kinda' birch with a very specific ashy grey wood. of course you can't see it here bc of the color-grading but yeah. know that i did research on that. ok?

anyways if you read this whole thing thank you very much for reading and congrats on getting thru it hahahaha. i really need to figure out a name for this au bc this is NOT kurwitz's elysium LOL

[beegswaz]

was complaining to my friends abt how little we actually know about vine so i started blasting my own headcanons at her

which ill talk about under the text for those who just wanna look at my vine design

i like to think vine has a workout routine, and she spars with katana sometimes (he was originally against this, but vine was VERY insistent she wouldnt get injured. and she was right!!!)

shuri and sling will watch them spar if its early enough in the day (vine and katana both have their own issues that leads them to spar at night, usually sling will watch if he cant get to sleep that night)

sorry its formatted poorly this was a quick comic

rounding back to vine and katana having issues and using sparring as a sorta coping mechanism, i like to think katana has paranoia (he denies it, its not paranoia if they (the cult) are really after him!) so he finds it particularly hard to sleep some nights, whereas if vine feels too many emotions or too strong of an emotion, her arm starts rapidly sprouting flowers and branches (which hurts like hell to remove, by the way), so before she gets to that point she goes and fights with katana to release any extra energy she has

theyre both tired by the end and sleep decently well, so they havent ever stopped sparring

anyways vine could probably hold her own in a physical fight with scythe or banhammer if she had to

[nobodybetterlookatme]

Blorbos from my brain my beloved 💙 rough sketches under the cut

Matthew and Levi, my dumbass fire medics. Not a brain cell between them. They live in my head rent free

[alienssstufff]

DEMONS OF THE PAST 21

>Isn’t it lovely >Isn’t it cool >And isn’t it cruel

Got to work on a c!slime design with @//miauta_mi ‘s [twitter] lovely Demon’s of the Past INTERACTIVE EVENT for October. Coolest thing to be a part of be sure to read all parts of it he worked super hard on it >:]

Extra CW page i drew for instagram ^_^

design-wise: >Overall main design features are an amalgamation of all the horrible things that happen to c!slime during lore >The fasciation with slime’s whole left arm and heavily inspired by the necromorphs from Dead Space. By extension a take on what the creatures can look like while I was working on designing the Blood In The Bayou map with Charlie [which you all should subscribe to the Patreon for] >Big thanks to Miauta as well I wanted the goopy guy to match that of all the other fucked up fellas that appear in Demons of the Past <3

[rosykims]

IVE NEVER GOT THIS HOWE DIALOGUE. THROWING UPPPPPPPPPPPP

[askachroma]

tell faba i'd give him a little kiss on the cheek

(He is very embarrassed and also a bit shy)

I have so many more hcs guys,, if you’re still reading this, buckle up.

Okay, Faba’s not what you could really call a nice guy. He’s a bastard, with heaps of bitchiness on top, right. But I do like to think underneath all that he can be quite shy, and very considerate and loving of people he actually gives a damn about. Personally I hc him as being diagnosed really, really late with autism (like not until late twenties), which has given him a lot of social trauma. He’s late thirties now right so that’s given him so much time to build up resentment and bitterness towards everybody. He has the capacity to be nice, but with 99.9 percent of people he just thinks: what’s the point? It’s not like they deserve kindness. They never tried to include HIS socially awkward ass in anything, they were never understanding of HIS struggles.

He didn’t have a social life growing up, but you know what he did have? His brain. It’s the only thing he felt superior in, so he clung to that lifeline and gradually built his entire personality around it. He’s smarter, better than everyone, career orientated… it’s the only thing he feels he has going on for him so of course he’s going to gradually condition himself into being a workaholic. He even convinces himself he doesn’t even care about people at all, that he doesn’t want any kind of relationship because they’d distract him from his work. Of course eventually that does change— in fact, when he met his ex-wife and Colress and finally had a connection with someone, that was probably the only thing that saved him from completely going off the deep end honestly. ‘He’s bad now but he could have been way worse’, kind of thing. When he did get divorced from his ex though it just made him even more bitter and lonely and turned him absolutely desperate, causing him to cling onto his career and making very questionable decisions (AHEM rainbow rocket [although I’m still undecided if that’s a canon event in my au]) because he was just in a big, spiralling panic. Since then the friendship Colress (and now finally Knox) have shown him have softened him up a bit, but even so he’s still very distrustful and bitter.

I think that’s part of the reason I like writing him so much, because I can see bits of myself in him. The whole late diagnosis, not really fitting in with others and not knowing why, developing bitterness and a lot of fear because of it, I really get that. Of course, not everyone who is diagnosed with adult autism is going to be as hostile as Faba, (Or hostile at all. I may relate to the bitterness but I wouldn’t consider myself an asshole!!) but it’s definitely one of the things that can happen. Not that it excuses his shitty attitude/behaviour either, but it definitely explains it.

…Man. All that because of a ‘kiss on the cheek’ ask LOL

Realistically if someone he didn’t know well were to say they’d give him a kissy on the cheek, he’d probably be very cynical and think it was mockery, buuuut I do like drawing a soft Faba so I’ve taken some liberties with my hcs for this one.

TLDR: A late autism diagnosis gave Faba trauma, and now he’s making it everyone else’s problem, half consciously out of a want for revenge, half subconsciously because people frighten him (but he would never admit it)

[rsenak]

long time no horse! 1/3

alt. versions under the cut

[emdotcom]

Hater shit incoming:

Yeah, Indigo Park is really cool, but it blew its load a bit too early by immediately killing off the cool stalker enemy from ch.1. The effect of the bird mimicing phrases is really neat, but you don't get to hear her do it much, especially because the warbling effect + loud af chase music drowns out what is being said, which sucks! Those voice lines are good!!

[imaginaryskeleton]

A collection of ones I didn't really feel were post-worthy but have them anyway

More batfam twitter shenanigans here

Taglist under the cut

@scarlettauthor @searchingforthelamps @aceisferal @lady-bizarre @nana-mizu-shiki @reality-itself-but-magic @humanoidluv @shortstorylover @luckybyrdrobyn @ginevraxrogers @universal-travel-er @timpendragon @limeskittlesaredecent @illburnyouontheceiling @half-emptyjuicebox @genderlessblomber @i-suc-at-art @somniphobicfox @ultra-stormsaga @procrastinators-folly @folk-ever-lore @marinafanning @tzuyu132132 @sackofsadstuff @notarobot-lastichecked @blankliferain @kking13 @blackholegladiator @formulaonebuff @blackstar-gazer @wrongwaykelly @smiling-through-sadness @cygnusdoesthings @lyninabin @justabilingualchileangirl @atlasaurelius @xxrougefangxx @fictional-love21 @kittyplayz1 @bae-graphomaniac @rusty-lake-resident @spawn0fsatan @savetheupholstery @lostsomewhereinthegarden @dead-potato-monster @its-a-dam-blue-brick @elamimax @ja50nt0ddwa5h3r3 (continued in replies due to tag limit)

If you want to be added to/removed from the taglist let me know in the replies (easier to sort through than reblogs)

[robboyblunder]

Remember how I said I couldn't stop thinking about Ghouls? yeah LOL. Anyways, I finally finished my "Ghoul Guide" which is a comic featuring made up lore about summoning nameless ghouls as well as things about them and their roles!

this by no means is comprehensive of everything I've made up for them, but I'm testing the waters with this comic! if it gets enough love I'll make an additional comic about ghoul origins, element types, and maybe even design non-assigned ghoul outfits for each era costume hehe.

ID in ALT text! transcript for comic text under the cut!

Transcript is numbered for each page the text is for!

A rite of passage for becoming “Papa”, It starts with a will and your judgement

A specialized chamber is necessary, 1) to avoid interference 2) to prevent escape.

After all; feral ghouls are raw elements, And to survive, one must tame them.

Each element has a diversity of strengths and rarity / and the first ghoul summoned sets precedent for how a leader is perceived.

Additionally, the first is the personal servant and an important assistant for life; Often times assistance is needed for future summoning, but a limit of 2 maintains respect to show you’re still capable.

However, they must accept you- you must earn their respect, and they only choose if willing. And they are not always willing.

One must be prepared to face Hell itself. To prove one is worthy to take the stage, controlling the devil’s magic is key.

It’s important to roll the dice and summon a variety, but one may only tame as many as the power of their sin allows, which, naturally, varies.

And while they’re loyal as determined by one’s rank… / Remember: The ministry comes first.

Ghoul records broken by copia.

Record: Most ghouls summoned at one time: 8 (10 including past members), Record: Most obedient first summon (for an amateur).

Record: Most powerful summons (2 S-Class ghouls); All consuming Hell Fire (AKA: “Sodo” or “Dew”); Hurricane From Hades (AKA: “Cumulus”); Record: Most elemental offshoots summoned (3). Offshoots of (then lists the symbols for quintessence and fire).

ghoul roles.

Assistance, Fighting.

Personal Guard, And of course: Performing.

end transcript.

[satoruhour]

HIS FAVOURITE W— STUDENT !

a/n: dilly / @crysugu i am losing the pwp war i needed the lore to be in this HELP. anyway !!! professors bc i cannot stop my mind from spiralling while starting my university classes — im not entirely proud of this but eehhh ….

wc: 4k

warnings: ultimately semi-public sex for all, unprotected sex, cumshot, standing doggy, brief oral (m receiving), brief f! masturbation, brief fingering (gojo), geto is a professor who is also a camboy, camgirl!reader, f! and m! masturbation, mentions of bad dragon’s cumtubes, brief fingering, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink (geto), pussy slapping, spitting (on yo pussy), pet names, clit stimulation, oral / cunnilingus, tit play, fingering, implied f! masturbation (nanami), mentions of murder, stripper!reader, riding, degradation, calls you ‘slut’ and ‘whore’, calls you ‘mama’ once too, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving), deep-throating, slight face-fucking (toji), n*sfw under the cut

✶ GOJO

professor gojo was… an interesting teaching figure. he didn’t have a set way of doing lectures or tutorials, nor was his feedback on assignments entirely coherent, but he was fun and unorthodox. he was also hot as fuck, as you’ve heard from your friends, but you never really got the deal even after seeing his photo on the university website or from miles away entertaining some starstruck student. his classes were always left with no vacancies, too, only able to see what your friends meant after stepping foot first into the lecture.

you were a tad bit early, greeted with gojo sitting at the front with his legs propped up on the desk as he shot you a nonchalant greeting and you think maybe you should’ve signed up for another lecture group, but then he speaks and the air is knocked out of your chest. professor gojo is charismatic when he teaches about art, design and media, captivating everyone with the stark white hair and blue eyes, but he’s clever with his glances because you aren’t realising he stares at you more than anyone else.

aren’t you in your second year? how did he not see you anywhere last year? why did you just sign up? 

the smiles he gives you are sweeter than others, the words more sugar coated with lilts in his voice and you’re chastising yourself for not being any different from everyone else, soon turning into the girls who ask for extra tutoring sessions and sidling up to him on campus — at least you’d get the full experience.

“oh! sweetness, what are you doing here?” you’ve managed to get gojo just as he leaves his office, standing outside for quite some time thinking if you’d really want to do this. several lecturers and professors have already walked past asking if you needed anything, but no matter how much you wanted to say professor gojo’s name, it always turned into something like waiting for a friend.

“oh— uhm, professor gojo, just wondering if the grade for that major project is really set in stone?”

gojo makes a show of thinking, but you know you’re asking for the devil himself when he replies yes with a stifled grin and you’re asking if the two week period of appealing works for the major you’re in.

“you can submit other collaterals as an appeal but it might either boost your grade or bring it down,” the professor leans down with a sick smile on his face, because he’s had so many people outside just like this, nervous from his advances and yet not going through with what they thought they could do. but this time it’s you, the you who he imagined taking on his office desk or even in a lecture theatre for everyone to see, who wants the words to fall from your lips just so he could be your knight in shining armour.

“is there really no… other way to appeal?” you swallow when gojo switches the position and gets you in exactly where he wants you: your back facing his office, his face dangerously close to yours while his eyes slyly catching the way your thighs rub together.

gojo smirks to himself when you knock down yet another cup of stationery on his desk after “discussing” ways you could improve your grades, nails making unsatisfactory noises on the wooden desk while he can hear your cunt gush around him, made obvious from the squelch of your hole and he’s muttering praises into your neck from behind.

“this what you had in mind, baby?” just another girl in his roster, getting ruined just for a grade that wasn’t even that bad. what you didn’t know is that you were the only girl, getting professor gojo so hard in lectures and tutorial classes just from the sight of you that to finally have you — it’s a sweet reward. you shiver when his hand reaches to your front to rub at your clit and you’re grasping at nothing as moans leave your lips.

“y-yeah, professor—” gojo is filthy, lewd, lifting your leg to prop up on the desk just so he could get deeper in you, your pussy everything he imagined and more as he continues to fuck into you. you’re warmer than his hand, than some hookup’s mouth from the club, clenching around his cock so tightly his hips stutter.

“f-fuck, angel, tryna snap my dick off?” you let out an incredulous chuckle at that, hips moving back to meet his while the sounds of his balls slapping against your ass fill the room. your juices are coating his length so well, too, that gojo’s eyes lock on your cunt that sucks him in over and over again, the spread of your pussy lips just amplifying his moans. the other spreads your cheeks and sighs at the translucent ring of cum at the base of his cock, hips fucking up to hit your sweet spot that you’re cumming with a shock down your spine — so hard, so deep, so intense that you’re jolting from the orgasm with whimpers of his name. gojo never truly is done with you after pulling out to cum on your ass, however, and you aren’t either.

there’s a thrill that runs through his veins when you back him up onto the sofa, a glimmer in your eyes that suggest you’re as intoxicated on him as he is on you, a sultry gaze taking over your shyness from earlier before he’s pushed onto the cushions.

“thank you for the meal, professor,” you giggle and gojo swears he’s reached his death when your mouth first closes around his still sensitive tip and he whines loudly, hearing your fingers fill your drooling cunt as your hand squeezes out leftover cum from before. a hand runs through your hair and your cockdrunk face is enough for him to see white—

professor gojo thinks you look heavenly between his legs.

✶ GETO

you sigh echoes throughout your dorm room, ending the stream and collecting your keep for the day as you grimace at the mess you’ve made on your sheets. it’s not like it wasn’t pleasurable, but on some days you’re wondering how long you truly need to serve gross men on the internet for it to be enough to pay off your university fees. sure, there were a few attractive people who commented and tipped you, but that was the extent of it. it’s not long before you can only think about cleaning up and taking a big fat nap, but a video in the sidebar catches your attention.

it seemed like a casual stream — no script or planned storyline apart from a heavily tattooed arm taking up half the screen, his pelvis just slightly off the thumbnail. he was faceless, too, filming rather from the chest down which was also inked, something that sends a chill to your core.

it’s only later when you’re slipping your dildo back into you as you watch this stranger pump his cock, guttural groans and slick noises filling your airpods that you realise the dragon wrapping around his arm looks awfully familiar. you’re so blissed out by pleasure, focusing on the needy moans that the man lets out before he cums with a grunt, so much cum leaking out from him. you’ve reached your high too, but you have no time to admire the stranger because it seemed like he was in a hurry, but not before you’ve caught a glimpse of his lip ring.

you know why he looked so familiar, now, standing in front of him in his office while his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, something he doesn’t do often. geto suguru doesn’t wear his lip ring in lecturers either, and now you think you know why because they match the video you’ve seen just last night. you aren’t even entirely sure why you were called in, and you think maybe it’s because you “accidentally” sent a friend request, but you’re taken aback when he asks you if you’ve already selected a tutor to be your mentor throughout your major project.

“surprised? i sent out the email a week ago, love.” you try not to let the name get to you, and the confession lingers at the tip of your tongue.

“y-yeah! i saw it, professor geto, just—”

everyone was no stranger to professor geto’s striking looks, always turning heads with his unconventional gauges and long hair that probably should’ve landed him in a modelling agency in the first place. except, he’s opting instead to teach linguistics, a fitting major for him to talk of the history of language and its formation of it, even slipping in some latin and greek to show its origins but you can hardly listen when all you can focus on is the tight pull of his shirt around his body while his hair falls around his face and you think maybe it was a bad time to think if his hair falls out of his bun while he rails someone. you hope soon it’ll be you, just so you can confirm it for yourself with no other reason involved (you’re a fucking liar).

geto clears his throat and you swallow and the flex of his forearms only distract you further, the dragon on his arm seemingly laughing at your torment as it moves along his skin — the other doesn’t miss your dilemma, staring at you for your answer with a dark stare and enjoying the effect he had on you. your brain doesn’t respond fast enough, though, and you’re blurting out the first thing as you watch the curve of his mouth turn in either distaste or satisfaction; you weren’t sure.

“i saw you stream yesterday—” and you slap a hand over your mouth, wanting to run immediately, but you didn’t expect him to smile after a moment of recognition, making the connections to your account until his mouth falls open just a little.

“you’re the little cutie who sent me a request last night, aren’t ya?”

as he asks the question you hoped he wouldn’t ask, you find there’s nothing on your mind except maybe seeing his tattooed arms wrap around you — and you did. they looked so much better up close, leading from one thing to another in that stuffy office soon they’re looking especially good with how he’s currently dragging the tip of his cock along your folds, collecting your slick as you hold onto his biceps after confessing sin after sin about you from—

“i’ve jerked off to your videos.” a burn on your cheeks when geto sets you on his office table, palms leaving hot trails along your thighs and skin. he lets you play with his bulge, hands probably forming bruises on you from how you relieve the tension in his pants.

“the way your cunt wraps around that dildo — makes me wish i was there fuckin’ your pussy instead.” a gasp and a moan when he preps you with both fingers as he sucks hickeys into your neck and plays with your tits, pinching your nipple that has you clenching around him.

“didn’t miss how you like to be bred in your videos too. think maybe you need some real cum, princess,” geto’s button up shirt is pried open by now, trousers just barely pulled down below his hips because he has a lecture in about half n’ hour. though, he wanted your pussy all to himself and if 27 minutes was all he was granted, he was going to make full use of it. geto groans into your hair when your legs wrap around his middle and he’s reeling at how he’s been watching your videos for the longest time and yet, nothing compares to having you fall apart by his hands.

a quick glance to his watch tells him fifteen minutes, eyes flitting back to the squelch of your cunt around him and he smiles smugly at the whimpers he knows so well. he’s sure it’s imprinted on his brain by now but his dick still jumps at the many variations you’ve let out during the 27; he’d commit every single one to memory. “professor— s-shit!”

geto angles his hips up, the curve of his cock hitting that spot just right that your back arches and you let out a drawn out moan, “yes, baby?”

“w-wan’ your cum in me, suguru,” you’re pleading with a drunk little smile and your face is twisted into such pleasure he’s only seen through pixels that geto cums almost immediately with a pained laugh seeing the real thing, hips stilling as he fills you up, up, up to the brim with hot, white semen that geto feels embarrassed to climaxing so quickly. but what can he do? when his favourite camgirl and student asks to be bred, it’s only natural.

how could he possibly say no?

✶ NANAMI

“does that mean the poem is written from the cross’ perspective?” your hand shoots up in hopes of interpreting the text correctly, but also because, just maybe, that you wanted to impress a little someone at the front of the lecture theatre. beside you, you can hear the gasp of your friend along with the eyes of various other students. “sort of like— personification?”

nanami points to you with his glasses that he’s long removed, a small smile on his face. it’s not like you’re trying too hard, but of course you know your shit fairly well. you always have in every class, it was just a bonus you were so attractive that all nanami could think about was spreading your legs right on this desk. “yes, almost. anthropomorphism, something that was very common in poems or works written in old english.”

you were sceptical about professor nanami at first, especially since he was a lecturer who was transferred here from overseas only three months ago and is technically quarter of a white man, but he held command of the japanese language well enough for you to understand, both in speech and concepts. you were more interested in the lecturer himself though, piqued from the moment he explained his grandfather was danish and you turn to your friend, explains the blonde hair, doesn’t explain how he’s so insanely fine, giggling quietly to each other the first day.

as for your major, it was texts after story after poem, but you enjoyed it alongside giving your own input in class — something you knew would help your participation grades. you’ve raised your hand in more ways than one, always coming up at the end of lectures with a question, stopping him in hallways to show him the book you were currently reading. so that’s why you were confused when you were called to the front of the lecture theatre after everything’s over. it couldn’t be bad, right?

it wasn’t bad, it was much better, especially when nanami’s got your legs on either side of him on the lecture theatre desk while he takes his rightful place between your legs — somewhere he’s always longed to be. both the front and back doors are locked, with only your soft, muffled moans filling the room. but nanami has no shame, slurping up the juices that drip from your pussy loudly, possibly staining the desk below him. he’s cared before about the condensation of his drinks but when it comes to your sweet, sweet cunt? he doesn’t give one fuck.

“taste so good, sweetheart,” nanami moans wrapping a forearm around your thighs and just eats. he flicks his tongue over your clit, while the other hand goes up to squeeze at your tits, kneading and playing with them while you’re still at awe at the man on his knees, at how you’ve gotten one of the hottest professors in the university eating out of your pussy like it’s the last meal on earth.

you’re snapped out of your daze when nanami lands a few slaps onto your pussy, brown eyes boring holes into your skull. but this stare is different, as opposed to glaring down the mischievous boys who can’t stop making noise, this is…

“pay attention when i eat your little pussy, angel,” the demanding tone has you shivering, a small grin stifled when he nods in deserved approval and continues his assault. fingers slip in before you have time to react and your head is thrown back so hard it bumps against the wood but you don’t care, clamping down around his fingers. nanami’s pace is unforgiving, sucking hard on your clit while he pumps them in and out.

“feel good?” nanami asks through slurps as he catches your eye, licking one last stripe before gathering his saliva into a ball and he spits onto your clit, sight so lewd you clamp around his fingers. he admires how the way the glob of liquid runs down your cunt and mixes with your arousal that he can’t wait for it to be his cum instead.

“better than…” your voice trails off when he rubs in his spit, a thumb on your bud while he continues to move his fingers and your thighs are already trembling from how nanami knows all your sweet spots in such a short period of time. nanami simply chuckles at your sensitivity, meeting you halfway as you sit up to feel his lips against yours and he whispers against your lips—

“what were you gonna say, baby?”

you’re heaving for oxygen as he adds a third finger and you’re just hoping he’d show you his fucking dick already. hot breath fans across your lips and you smile to yourself seeing how your words affect him.

“better than fucking myself with my fingers thinkin’ it’s your cock, prof.”

✶ TOJI

it was nine in the morning, and toji could already feel a headache forming from the amount of absentees in his class, simply sighing before pulling up the details for today’s lecture, eyes unknowingly looking for you in the large lecture theatre. he finds that you’re already looking, clad in a cardigan and tired eyes — no doubt from trying to reach his deadline earlier than usual. toji found that you liked to do that, the first one to always submit your essays and assignments, so that’s why he knows what game you’re playing at when you’re asking the difference between first, second and third degree murder when you already know their definitions.

he would know — you got full marks the other time. 

“hm?” toji only hums when he sees your enthusiastic face and a quick look down to your lower half shows how your legs spread naturally for him. the professor only licks his lips before he spots your underwear, entertaining you for now as you stare on earnestly, while nothing is actually entering your brain. that’s okay, though, you’re smart.

toji can count on one hand the amount of times you manage to catch him off guard, but he didn’t expect both of those times to be on the same day. it was a busy night at the club, trailing behind professor gojo, bored, until the clock hits 11 and the shift changes, some dancers retiring for the night whilst others make their way out. they emerge with pumps and skimpy outfits, but toji still hasn’t found someone worth wasting his loaded bank account on until you’re stepping out in a corset and garters and toji whistles lowly, eyes travelling up your person unforgivingly before he hears a small gasp.

his curiosity is piqued at the small noise, only to be greeted with your widened eyes and taut muscles at having seen your professor at the strip club you work at, but with a clap from somewhere backstage your body moves naturally into a professional stance, and perhaps a little more sluttily than other days.

your professor was hot, of course you would work twice as hard, twisting your body around the pole while you show off your assets — things you were covering just this morning in professor toji’s lecture. he taught criminology, a minor that you were trying out in your second year of uni and if it didn’t work, you’d drop it, but no matter how much you complained about the class, the green eyes that bore into yours in lectures always seem to ask you to stay. you never really knew whether he was looking at you or not.

at least now, you’ll make him.

toji’s hands tightened around the wad of cash he planned to waste tonight, all put on hold just from watching the way you put your body on display. he wouldn’t have imagined seeing you tonight at the strip club he let gojo drag him to, but he’s almost glad he’s here when you seem to be only dancing for him, all focus on the other patrons lost.

your eyes are still locked with toji’s, reminding you of the times in the lecture theatre where green was all you could see, a smile creeping on your face when one of your girlfriends behind you whispers that the man with the black hair and tight shirt wants a private session with you.

that’s all it took before you feel toji’s hands on your ass later in the private room, pulling you to his front with a smirk. “what’s a sweet girl like you doin’ here?”

you roll your eyes as you feign annoyance. your heart was pounding along with the music, finally being able to feel his toned body from the front., “cut the crap, prof. you booked me for a reason. what, here to talk about my grades or something?”

“what? can’t see my favourite student?” you scoff with a small smile.

“and how did you know i work here?”

“i didn’t, but seeing you work that pole,” toji grins, landing a smack on your butt before grinding his very obvious, large bulge on you and he’s loving the way it seemed to stimulate your clit, “i need ya to show me what i’ve been missing, mama.”

toji groans later while you’ve got his cock in his mouth, on your knees in front of him while you’re fisting the places you can’t reach. you take most of him easily, feeling the tip of his length reach the back of your throat. there, your eyes flick up to him, doe eyed and pleading. it isn’t long before you feel his hips bucking into your mouth and the cute twitch of his cock in your mouth, moaning around him as you knead his thighs, dragging him closer with what little strength you had.

“dirty fuckin’ slut, huh?” toji mumbles out breathlessly, tightening his grip around your hair before you start bobbing your head again, a plethora of lewd noises alongside the slurp of your saliva and his pre-cum mixing only makes your panties wetter and sends your cunt clenching around nothing. “who knew my cutest student was such a whore?” your head reels at the degradation, sucking in your cheeks even more while you slobber over him. toji swears under his breath when your tongue sweeps over his tip, collecting his pre-cum.

“it’s s’big in my mouth, professor,” giggling, you bob your head faster as the other’s noises increase in volume, and he’s left to tap the side of your skull, causing you to tilt your head in question. the vibrations of your moans has him grinding into your mouth, shutting you up until he’s cumming down your throat with a loud groan. toji spills so much into your mouth that you have to swallow twice, pulling on your jaw as you show him the remnants of the cum still on your tongue.

“’m sure they have it somewhere in the conduct about professors not having sexual relations with a student,” toji chuckles when he sees you peel off your underwear, eagerly wrapping his arms around your waist. “or even something about cutting corners to get your grades up…” it’s a little soft, trailing off when he feels you drag his tip along your pussy and he’s mesmerised with how your dripping folds accommodate him easily.

you pout in dramatics, thighs tightening around his when you take inch after inch of him before you’re bottoming out. there’s a deep sigh coming from you before you’re moving your hips lazily, a certain slur to your words that already show you’re drunk on your professor’s cock and toji only smiles.

“yeah, but my grades are perfectly fine,” you whisper with a small whine when toji squeezes your ass, something he never thought he’d get a taste of.

“plus, we’re not in the classroom now, are we, professor?”

[lilbitosunny]

I still have need of you.

Lore, notes, textless version of the last page and close-ups under the cut

Anyways- Lore dump of how this Lamb went out and her thoughts/behavior during the decapitation. Decided to make her angry and fight back against the bishops even to her slaughter

My art peaked with that final page, btw- Here's a no text version and some close-ups!

[paper-mario-wiki]

Could you explain how Ambrosia is able to come back after dying?

1

Sure yeah, I'll give it a shot.

[Fursona Lore/ Mild Existential Horror presented in charmingly primitive MS Paint style under the cut]

2

[At the top of the panel there is the label "conceptual space (currently being created. The middle is labeled "THE UNIVERSE, REALITY (the other)". The bottom is labeled "CONSCIOUSNESS, REFLECTION (the self). The very bottom of the panel reads "OTHER, FREAKIER BUT LESS IMPORTANT STUFF" ]

To keep it brief, a person is when a certain amount of consciousness slips upwards into reality. Consciousness is, like the laws of thermo dynamics [sic], a fundamental property of the universe.

3

I'm sure you've heard of the sticking-a-pencil-through-paper metaphor for theoretical wormhole travel, right? Staying within that visual metaphor, imagine the moisture in the air around that "piece of paper" as what consciousness is. It creates tiny, imperceivable changes in the surface and makeup of the paper. Imagine a microscopic rain cloud making a tiny fraction of the paper a little bit soggy. That's what you are in the universe. A tiny soggy fraction of a massive piece of paper. (That's why you feel so small btw).

Of course, putting it into that metaphor IS greatly simplifying it, since in real life things like time and space sorta overlap, ya know? Because they're entirely separate dimensions of measurement. Consciousness is the same, it is everywhere in the universe all at once, but only after it seeps in from a place that is exactly where we are, but elsewhere. 4D stuff is complicated sorry if that's not super clear ha ha.

4

Normal people happen when a bunch of that stray potential-consciousness starts stacking more and more layers of reality on top of itself. Sort of like those pastries that you fold butter into and then fold it like 10 times and that makes it so theres like a billion layers of butter and dough and butter and dough and butter and dough and on and on and on. But with, uh. The other stuff. Consiousness and matter from the universe.

Speaking semantically, that's all the little tiny organisms that work really hard to make you alive. Like the biome in your gut, or the bacteria in your tissue and blood cells. Look it up, 43% of the human body is made of bacteria. Like, that's just on google.

Anyway, all their effort culminates in an increasingly complex meat shell that constitutes a person.

5

For the sake of practicality, we can imagine the way consciousness "seeps in" to the universe is like heat coming off the sun. The two overlapping infinite planes radiate into each other like heat radiates off the sun.

That clear? Heat from the sun. Remember that, it's important for the next part.

6

I'm sort of like a solar flare.

My consciousness, in its raw form, was so concentrated that it was like a tiny shooting star straight from the source.

Also kind of like a kidney stone, I guess.

7

Since my consciousness (which, to be clear, is approximately the same "amount" of consciouessness as anyone else, just all smooshed together into a single clump) is smooshed together into a single clump, the shell forms naturally as "reality" settles onto it. The "shape" the consciousness takes is basically the same as your body or anyone else's since the framework of both entities are the "same" on the "outside". Thus the "shells" turn out "similar" too.

Sorry for all the quotation marks, it's hard to talk about concepts outside of the third dimension in third dimensional terms, and like. I also am not super sure about this stuff either. I'm only relaying what I've learned from the scientists but some of it goes over my head.

I like to think I'm clever but like. I'm not a genius.

8

So here's the part where me and you are different: When your shell breaks apart (when you die) it's because the consciouessness had been escaping your shell, like air from a balloon, and the physical structure can't support itself anymore. Or, like, maybe you just fall over and hit your head on the concrete one day and pop the balloon all together.

Either way, the consciousness escapes from the pressure, and either goes back "down" where it came from, or goes upward into conceptual space, which is sorta being constituted through forces exerted in the physical universe. Well, I mean, really it's more of a product of a reaction between consciousness and physical space. Whatever I'm getting off topic.

The point is the shell breaks cuz the balloon pops. I think that was my point.

9

Now that you get all that, you can probably deduce on your own how and why I'm able to keep "coming back".

It's cuz I'm not really "coming back", I'm still here! The shell representing me here was just lost.

10

And while the facade may not look precisely the same every single time...

11

I remain the same.

[moneypowerglorymiddleofmiami]

— trickentine જ⁀➴♡ ︎

pairing: luke castellan x aphrodite!reader

summary: when eros, the god of love, makes the annual valentine visit to camp half-blood, he conveniently unintentionally leaves his bow and arrow in the capable hands of his younger half-sister.

warnings: nothing i think, except for like one curse word (pls do tell me if i miss any though!)

genre: ...romcom?

part 2

─── ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . ───

The gods were many things: powerful at their core, benevolent to those who merit it, temperamental when goaded, and mysterious in their methods— but there was one trait that defined them most of all, incandescently littered in their tales and lores: they were tricksters.

You really should’ve known better than to pick up that stray quiver of arrows.

─── ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . ───

The Aphrodite Cabin consistently made it a point to celebrate Valentine’s Day with much fanfare. Everyone has been busy the entire week preceding it; there were fresh roses to harvest, pink and red deserts to be made, hundreds of paper hearts to be cut, ribbons to be tied and acres to decorate. As one of the older siblings, a huge chunk of the responsibility fell on your shoulders. Needless to say, you spent an entire extra hour in the bathroom trying to put your concealer to good use.

A mere 10 minutes after leaving your cabin on V-Day, you’d managed to snap and glare at nearly everyone who even thought of intercepting your path.

Nearly everyone because you knew better than to direct your ire at the god of love.

“You didn’t even blend.” Eros said, perusing your make-up judgmentally. “Consider your favorite demigod sister card revoked.”

In his current human form, his hair was a deep shade of black and coiffed to perfection, his eyes a brown hue that you could only describe as melodramatic, and his skin beautifully tanned from frolicking in the sunlight.

Gods, how you missed to frolick in the sunlight. These days, you had to slave in it.

“Lord Eros.” You bowed, desperately fighting the urge to roll your eyes and purse your lips.

“I adore what you’ve done with the place.” He waved his hand off dismissively. He trudges ahead of you, officially beginning his annual Valentine inspection. “Although I definitely think it could use a little more sparkle. Perhaps a little more pink, too.”

‘Pink? For Valentines? Groundbreaking.’ You drawled inside your head. “The Hephaestus cabin is tinkering with a smoke machine to make it emit glitter.”

“Wonderful.” He replied passively, his attention drawn towards the dining pavilion where hundreds of glowing hearts hung from mid-air. Eros turned towards you. “Fairy lights on the beams?”

“On it.” You nodded your head tiredly, scribbling messily onto a notepad. “Anything else?”

“Everything’s perfect, except…” He trailed off before raising an eyebrow at you. “Find yourself a boyfriend, maybe? You need to loosen up.”

“Oh my gods,” You muttered under your breath, fighting the urge to physically recoil.

─── ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . ───

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you slacking off on training.” Luke chastised with a tut, tugging your arm towards the training areas. Your feet were basically dragging against the dirt, soiling your sneakers and flicking particles of dust against your skirt, but you couldn’t care less.

“Luke, look around you. What do you see?” You asked, your tone too saccharine to be considered serious.

He decided to humor you anyway. “Hearts.”

“10 points to House Hermes. Now,” You leaned in conspiratorially, “Who do you think set this whole place up?”

Luke barely opened his mouth before you answered your own question.

“Me.” You jabbed a finger against your chest. You narrowed your eyes at him. “I set this whole place up. I planned it— the theme, the color scheme, the glitter, the ribbons, the dazzling pink fountain with mini-Cupids who sing at the hour!”

“It looks very pretty!” He said, panicked.

“Yes, I know it looks very pretty.” You kissed your teeth. “Don’t you think I deserve a little break because it looks very pretty?”

He shook his head.

“You are insufferable!” You groaned.

“Hey! In my defense,” He raised both of his arms in the air to plead innocence, “You’re the one who said you wanted to develop a skill by the end of the summer."

His voice was pitched higher by the end in a poor imitation of your’s. You scrunched your nose in distaste.

“Gods, why do I keep digging my own grave?” You mumbled. Luke shook his head in amusement.

He led you into the clearing of the archery field, a line of circle targets dotted around the edge of the forest. A quiver of arrows was hung against the branches, different from the ones in the armory but definitely familiar to you.

“You can use those. Guess one of the kids forgot to return them after practice.” He shrugged. Luke mustn’t have noticed the difference.

You reached up to grab the weapons, still incredulous but definitely not alarmed enough to hesitate. The material thrummed in your hands.

“Go shoot.” He grinned.

“Very helpful instructions.” You muttered.

“Well, it’s pretty straightforward, sweetheart.” He sauntered over to one of the targets, leaning against the wooden frame. “You’ve been taught the basics, you just need the application. Now, shoot.”

“I could literally hit you.” You said blankly as you mounted the arrow against your bow.

“Consider it your challenge to not hit me.” He raised a thumbs-up.

“You’re insane.” You responded, irked and stressed by his casualness. “I’m sleep-deprived!"

Again, Luke just shrugged his shoulders. You huff, but then follow his lead anyway. You close one eye as you raise your weapon to your line of vision, zeroing in on the target.

As soon as the arrow flicked away from your fingers, it changed its course. When it should’ve followed a curved arch towards the red target, it whizzed away and made a beeline straight for Luke. A pink trail of haze followed its path.

“Duck!” You yell.

The arrow pierced through his chest at nearly the same time Luke’s body collided with the ground.

“That’s where those went.” Eros snapped his fingers as he emerged behind you. His glinting eyes were looking intently at the bow and quiver on you, an imperciptible smile on his face.

Your eyes widened in surprise. Shit.

“Lord Eros! I sincerely apologize.” You immediately took off the weaponry, holding them in your hands then kneeling as if to offer them back. You definitely did not want a god to be at odds with you. The two of you might have the same mother, but that didn’t mean you were equal in Aphrodite’s eyes. “I wasn’t-”

“Nah, don’t worry about it, sis.” He said, tapping your shoulder. Was he actually consoling you? “I shouldn’t have left it out in the open anyways.”

He pulled you up by the arm gently, snapping his fingers and getting the remnants of grass off of your knees. He even picked off a stray leaf from your hair. What in Tartarus was this?

For as long as you’ve known Eros and he’s practically coerced you into a dysfunctional sibling relationship, this was the kindest thing he’s ever done. Yes, the bar was low.

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

“You didn’t use this on someone, did you?” Eros asked, cradling the quiver and bow against him like a child.

“I think I managed to hit Luke—”

“You didn’t!” He interrupted with a theatrical gasp, a hand covering his mouth. He was such a drama queen.

You narrowed your eyes. He planned this, didn't he?

He smirked wider when he noticed the change in your demeanor, the realization behind your gaze. You swore his pupils changed to hearts for a moment.

“Good luck with lover boy, little sis.” He turned around, showing you the back of his hand as he waved goodbye.

[sparklingsora]

yeah sure i guess this is how i'll introduce my roleswap au. anyway yeah the good guys swap with the bad guys whaaaaaaat?!?!?!? god i cant believe this au has been consuming my brain for the past several weeks and now i cant even describe it properly. some character refs and descriptions under cut:

imagine, if you will, you are a man with a tv for a head. and lets just say, hypothetically, that you were friends with a powerful overlord. a powerful overlord named alastor. and lets just say for the sake of this argument, that this powerful overlord named alastor died in an extermination. so lets assume that you open a hotel to rehabilitate sinners with your girlfriend with the help of this magical cat you found. (and then, lets say, hypothetically, that this powerful overlord named alastor turns out to be alive after all and now he's avoiding you and you are very pissed about it)

okay and NOW imagine, if you will, you are the daughter of lucifer, one of the highest ranking angels in heaven, but you got kicked out of heaven for being a cringefail loser. and also imagine that unknown to you your girlfriend is actually an angel sent by your shitty dad to watch over you because he still cares??? i guess??? somewhat??? though he's still shitty anyway PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE send me asks about this au ive got so much lore sitting in this brain of my mine PLEASE I WILL EXPLODE IF I DONT GET IT OUT INTO THE WORLD