#art isn't something you Get over with i need to stop that

[pieflavorpie]

My unpopular opinion is that i dont enjoy bards Lament. At all. It is objectively good, well performed with appropriate buildup. However, I am a child with an absentee father, and i have had similar thoughts to him before, and i used to have a friend that went down his path. I have seen and experienced every point of view. And what that was isnt justice. Its not calling people out, or making them realise how they have hurt him.

Its a very broken, depressed man who finally snaps and burns down the bridges with his friends. No, VM never asked for Scanlan's mum's name because that's not something they do. If you can list me 5 times where the team ask questions about peoples backstory [before Bards Lament] BEFORE it became relevant, then you have successfully proved me wrong. Anything revealed is either probed out of them as part of recon, or willfully offered as a piece of friendship.

[E.g: Keyleth talking about her aramente, Pike's history with Grog vs Percy's backstory being revealed after they get invited to dinner with the Briarwoods and Grog talking about his pack when its revealed his uncle has the vestige.]

And he never offered any of this information. There have been several times where VM have shown concern and actively asked how hes doing just for him to lie and shrug them off. They prank him while he was asleep because they think hes a fairly centred person who will enjoy an attempt to bring things back to normal and they were drunk.

And yes, they are mean to him sometimes, because they are a group of assholes. They never disguise themselves as anything else. Vax and Percy's friendship post-briarwoods for a good while is based in distrust and self loathing, respectively. Everyone has moments where they say mean shit to Grog [except Pike] because he cant understand it.

And the "without his songs hes just a guy" comment or however it was phrased was a tactical comment. Because he would be. He doesn't have any sort of weapon beyond Mythcarver which he refuses to use, and he doesn't have anything else he can use to support or fight. The same applies to Keyleth without her nature magic, it applies to Percy without his guns, it applies to Grog when people are out of range.

And no, I don't blame him for snapping when he woke up. I doubt taking a -4 to any rolls made would translate to a Happy Peachy character in-story. And all of his internalised misery finally coalesces in his tiredness. But what happens isn't good. It isn't progress. It is showing everyone a wound that has been tearing open over months, and then promptly storming out.

And his whole "I didn't want my daughter to see me like this." Isn't some Grand Show of how much he cares, it shows him as fucking selfish. My dad being weak is what drove him away, his insecurity stopping him from getting help from my family. That line of thinking is what makes him a sad, lonely man rotting in a flat after abandoning many families like my own.

That man in real life was strong, a brilliant teacher of martial arts. A true marvel to see and train with. He had a certain charisma to him, but he had his shortcomings. And when his partner got too close to them, he'd hold them tight to his chest and scurry away, only coming back for the drunk sex and eventually leaving entirely. Having enough distrust in his heart to claim any unwanted children to be illegitimate.

Now, Scanlan is nowhere near as bad as him, but there are similarities. And enough that I feel my word has weight when I say, if I were Kaylie, I would not want to travel with him. If he truly wanted to be closer to her and do good for her, he'd get better first. And to get better, you need people. Plural. You cannot depend on one person. And that person can absolutely not be your own fucking child. I'm not saying he should've stayed with vox machina, but he should've stayed with a group. A group of adults that could support him. And honestly I feel like so far from my watching of CR, his epilogue with kaylie is the most unrealistic character development possible. I know she's supposed to be rough and hardy, but I refuse to believe that girl would not be breaking under her father's bleeding desperation for validation. And I definitely refuse to believe that she could actually help him to the point he'd gladly leave her on another continent while he talked to the people he'd snapped at.

Anyway, fuck dickhead dads who don't get actual help. Especially fuck them when they start depending on their children for them to be a good person.

For those who do not know. Scanlan's departure from the party in the stream wasn't as... friendly. It was kind of an ugly break-up. It came from Sam wanting to do some unexpected twist with Scanlan's character and it led to a very emotional moment. That he did not feel validated, that he did not feel appreciated and that he was considered a joke by the group.

And it came down to one phrase from Scanlan to the group: "What is my mother's name?" and when nobody was able to answer the question. Scanlan left.

However, interesting little tid-bit that might help understand this change. which comes from one of the Q&A. which is no longer up because... uhm... a whole other Drama I am not here to explain.

And what Sam said in that Q&A is that there WAS one way in which Scanlan would have stayed.

And it was Pike. who wasn't there at the time (technically was as an NPC, but since Ashley wasn't there, it's the same thing), but which Sam said was the only person who could change his decision.

And what has Pike done the entire season? BE that person who supported Scanlan in his darkest moment, and who deflated the situation probably without meaning to. And so he is able to leave the party in much better terms.

A shame because the emotional rollercoaster that it involved will be missed, but hey, it's cool to see what Sam meant by saying Pike was the one person who could stop Scanlan walking out of the party like he did

[midnight-mourning]

DCA Promptober Day 29: Reboot

Almost done! This one got, dark, but hey, that's why it's called spookvember!

Word count: 789

Content warning: implications of body horror, reader dicretion is advised

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Your head is pounding as you come to. You remember, nothing. Absolutely nothing. 

You sit up, clutching your head and your eyes adjust to the darkness. You're in a supply closet, you have no idea how you got here. 

Another shot of pain and you groan. Why you would be in here of all places, well you aren't exactly sure if that wasn't obvious. You were on your way out the door to head home-

Wait that's right. You'd been heading home for the night. What had stopped you from going home?

It's a struggle to stand, but you manage it. You stumble, but eventually get steady footing and shuffle to the door. 

It's locked. Weird. 

It takes a bit of brute force, but you manage to get it open. 

The light outside is bright, and you can hear a cheery tune playing from somewhere. The Daycare, you're in the Daycare.

Your head is still killing you as you make your way through the space, coming across Sun as he sets up arts and crafts for the following day. He turns to you as you approach, rays expanding a touch in surprise.

"Friend! You, you opened the door," He's nervous as he laughs, muttering his next words, "I thought for sure that I'd locked it..."

Your eyes narrow, "What was that, Sunny?"

"N-nothing! Here, why don't we sit down and let's just, talk this through and-"

You put up a hand as he approaches, "Sun. Why was I in the closet?"

"Well, um, I didn't want you to um," He shakes his head, "Starlight I really think we should sit down-"

You throw your hands up, "Why are you being so insistent about sitting down-" You trail off, realizing that your hand, it doesn't, it doesn't look quite right. Neither of them do. 

You stand still, just staring down at your hands. 

They're, they're... they don't look like your hands. They're not flesh. Not bone. They look like they're made of metal. But that's silly. Right?

You shift your gaze up to Sun. He's frozen. You see his pupils flick to meet your own. 

He speaks slowly, cautious, it puts you even more on edge, "I want you to sit down, because I don't want you to hurt yourself again, love."

You bolt, just barely dodging as he lunges to stop you. 

He calls after you as you run out of the Daycare, to the nearest bathroom. A mirror. You need a mirror, now.

You burst into the bathroom, staggering towards the sink. As your hands land heavy and awkward on the sink you meet a gaze that isn't your own. 

A staff bot stares back at you. Its hand raises as your does to touch its face. Your face feels wrong. It doesn't match what you know your face is supposed to feel like. 

There's a knock on the door. 

"Sunshine please, please come out. Let me, let me explain! Just please, you need to stay calm," Begging. He's begging you. 

But you can't listen. You're filled with flashes of memory. Good ones, some, but mostly bad. Many, many bad. 

You remember trying to go home. Then realizing you forgot something in the Daycare. Coming back, running into Moon. There's, something off about him. You're scared, running, you're running. 

You trip, fall. He catches you. He, hurts you. You have to clutch your head to keep steady as things get glitchy, the sounds of your own screams are deafening. 

You start to hyperventilate. Can you hyperventilate? It sure seems like it. You can't even use breathing to calm yourself down. 

The knocking on the door gets louder, Sun's voice sounding urgent but you can't even decipher your thoughts much less what he's saying. 

You feel like you're on fire. The pain in your head is excruciating. 

Suddenly your arm twitches violently, and you fall to your knees, body jerking. You realize one of your hands had gotten tangled in wires between your neck and head, and you'd yanked some out of place in your panic.

Your body tumbles over, out of your control. Was it ever in your control in the first place?

Sun must've made it through the door somehow, he's taking up your vision now, rays spinning. You think he's holding on to you, it's hard to tell what's going on beyond the pain you feel. 

A message flashes across your vision. 

'Reboot required. Process beginning in 10 seconds.'

As everything goes black, you realize now what Sun meant when he said again.

'Reboot in progress. System may take several hours to restart.'

'Warning: Some memory files appear to be corrupted. System will restart from latest save.'

...

'Reboot complete. System starting...'

Your head is pounding.

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WOAH, what a fun little twist! but oh, so much angst though, so, so much angst. Sadge. Anywho, here's the prompt list, and the Spookvember schedule. Thanks for reading!

[eebie]

my bro gave me his old drawing stylus after he heard i lost mine i gotta start animating again i have no more excuses!!

[wolpatinga]

[ranger-kellyn]

i say this as someone who has been working on taking this to heart as well, but like......babes....y'all have GOT to let go of the need to have your art is interpreted exactly as you intended it to be. you're fighting a losing battle. nobody, literally NOBODY. will interpret it exactly as you intended it to. that's the beauty of art!

stop needing to control every little thing!! let people interpret it how they want!! even if it's the exact opposite of your own intention!

and i know this is easier said than done, but stop stressing about the bad faith takes as well!!! that says way more about them than it ever will about you!!! block and move the fuck on. or turn off comments! most places let you do that now.

if you're literally so pressed about someone interpreting your art "wrong", you should probably just use geocities or something else and make your own website to host your work, or just stop posting on such public websites in the first place. you will never be able to control how people interpret things, so stop stressing about things you literally have no control over.

[bi-writes]

i'm a big fan of your writing! can i ask what made simon want to mail order a bride in the first place? thanks <3

mail-order bride

he's tired of staring across his dinner table and seeing nothing but empty space.

it isn't something he had thought about in the before. he's spent a long time shifting between different cots, collecting sand from faraway places and counting the bodies he dropped with tally marks against his boots.

there's a picture he keeps tucked into his vest, but he won't take it out. it sits heavy there, an invisible wall between himself and the outside world, a reality that he chooses not to believe. if he doesn't look at them, he won't think of them, and if he doesn't think of them, maybe he can pretend they were never even real.

they all have something outside of here. his sergeants are too pretty and too outgoing to stick around; they're social butterflies, and simon has seen the shuffle of pictures of some pretty girl that gaz can't stop staring at, and soap never shuts up--whenever they have a signal, he's somehow got a phone call with his cousin's stepfather's little sister, or it's his second cousin's brother-in-law's birthday, and he's got to wish him well since he missed his art exhibition last month.

even price has a pale circular shadow that is stained onto his ring finger.

it's not his fault, is it? it's not his fault he was dealt the worst fucking hand. it wasn't his fault he was born already two feet into the grave; it couldn't have been his fault that he can only get a good night's sleep when there's screaming in one ear or the rattle of a battlefield over his head.

it isn't his fault. it isn't his fault. it isn't his fault.

the cigarettes taste bland today. they're old, stale, and he can taste the bitterness already, but he lights it anyways, flicking ash into the ground, scrunching his nose until he gets used to the bite of it.

there's a shadow at his side, and he turns to snap at them, assuming it's johnny and his incessant nagging, but he holds his tongue when he realizes it's his captain.

he's got a warm cigar in one hand, and he leans against the concrete wall beside him, sighing deep, the kind of pensive weight that only a captain can bear.

price looks tired. he needs to go home.

"boys invited y'out, didn't they?" price asks, and simon chuckles lowly.

"'m olready 'ome," simon murmurs. "'n i can get piss drunk oll on my own 'ere."

price shrugs.

"ya haven't taken leave since you joined my team, simon," he says low. "can't have that. you know it."

simon shrugs.

"can try and make me go," simon tells him. "but y'know i won't leave."

"i'm not asking, simon," price says firmly. "'m telling."

"doesn't matter," simon takes a long drag of the cigarette, holding it in for a second too long before letting it out slow. "got nowhere ta go."

his captain is not blind. simon's on a one-way road, and the end of it stops at the end of someone else's gun. men like simon, the ones who have nothing to lose, they're dangerous. they clear rooms outnumbered thirty to one because no one thinks they can. they hit targets from thousands of yards away because it's the only place that never changes. they kill and sleep peacefully because the blood of a stranger is far cleaner than that of someone they know, of someone they love.

they'll never leave because war is familiar. they don't want to go home because home isn't something they know. they're nomads, taking with them only what they can carry, because the rest is baggage and an emotional weight that they aren't strong enough to carry.

but it doesn't mean men like simon don't want. it doesn't mean they don't wish for more. it doesn't mean they don't think about using their teeth for something other than baring them to show their dominance, their aggression, their insecurity.

simon's a protector. the way he shoves his men behind him says so. the steadiness of his voice over comms when the op goes to shit. the ease of his hand when he ties a tourniquet. the split second that simon never wastes, the way he uses his body as armor and the look he gives his men when they're scared. simon's died twice before, and the look in his eyes tells them that this isn't it, that this isn't death, because he'd fucking know--he'd recognize it if he saw it.

simon's unrelenting. his past, his trauma, it's tried to beat him into a shape that will bend and snap, but its obvious simon is not made of lead--fuck, he's an entire block of unmovable steel. he does not give when compressed, he does not crack when the strength of him is tested. simon's fought too hard to live to let a gun terrify him, he's endured too much torture to flinch when someone sinks a blade into his chest.

but he knows, simon knows, that there is something missing. he fought hard to live, but for what? he's endured, but what the fuck is there when he lays his head down at night?

simon's a lover. he tries so hard to convince himself that he's always been this way--alone, drifting, lost, but it's a lie. simon knows what it's like to want. he knows what it's like to look into a crowd and hope you see a familiar face. he understands wanting to pull that string taut, but he also understands what it can do to you. what it can take from you.

he understands what you can never get back.

he thinks this is a bad idea. he crumples the note paper in his hand that had the address scribbled onto it, tearing it, staring up at the house in front of him. it's quaint, a lovely little house in the outskirts of london, with a red chimney and overturned planters in the yard. there's a weathered wooden door, a porch step that needs fixing, and when he kicks open the door, he grimaces seeing a carpet that need's replacing.

"the fuck am i doin' 'ere?" he whispers to himself, sliding his mask off, running a hand over his face. his heart is pounding, but he's not sure why, but he catches his reflection in the window. what looks back at him terrifies him--he can't do this.

he makes his way back outside, rummaging through his pockets for a cigarette. he takes a seat on the steps, lighting it, and as he takes his first frantic drag, he sees the torn pages of the note still on the ground. he picks up one end of it, running his thumb over the crumpled paper there, smudging the pencil scribble there.

she needs you

it's written in price's ugly handwriting, letters all tilted to the side and barely legible, but he still can read what price didn't write--and you need her.

but simon doesn't need anyone. he barely needs himself, barely can take care of himself. this won't help him--he can't help anyone, he isn't the kind that can be this kind of thing for anyone. he's stayed in the service because at least this way, he can die with honor, he can prove them all wrong, he can at least be remembered for what he could do and not by what was done to him.

his touch is ice. his heart is buried too deep under his ribs; no one has seen it since he could finally register a memory. his face, the skin he wears--he's not a pretty man, he's a forgettable one. he isn't gentle, he isn't capable of it. he can't forgive. he's so quick to anger, likes to snap his teeth, and he cannot be the kind of thing that they all expect him to be.

he does not love himself. he will not love himself. so he cannot love another.

there is a certain kind of satisfaction he feels when he fixes the porch step. once abandoned, once a nuisance, and now it functions as intended. he feels the same kind of thing when he rips up the stained carpet, and he feels it again when he watches the seeds of the thyme leaves grow as they rest in a pot above the sink.

things once forgotten serve a purpose. with effort, they can be used again. they don't have to be replaced, they can be open anew, they can live again and breathe deeper and see through the lens of a different perspective.

when you climb the porch steps the first time, he thinks about the board that doesn't wobble any longer. when the door shuts behind you for the first time and you take off your boots, he thinks about the new carpet that warms your toes now.

and when you lay next to him for the first time, under the covers of the bed he's made, he reaches over and slips a few fingers around your wrist, thumbing at the base of it and swallowing hard when he feels the pulse of your heartbeat. it beats, warm and steady, to a beat familiar, one he knows. his heart has not been hiding under thick bone and the tar of his own blood.

it's here now. under your skin. and now it's home.

[verstarppen]

hear me out….. okay reader is famous and meeting fans,, a fan is wearing a top with like charles or max or whoever’s face on it and reader spots it and is like “…who is that😮‍💨” and the fans tell her and shes like “please show me their instagram” and then she follows whoever the guy you choose on ig,,, but one of the fans was recording the whole interaction qnd the video goes viral as well as a screenshot of readers ig following their account <3333 you can ignore i just thought this would be a good giggle type fic and your fics are my fav for giggling <33333

summary; your comic book signing takes a turn when a fan walks in wearing a t-shirt with a poorly photoshopped "charles lechair" or whoever that is

pairing; charles leclerc x fem! comic book artist! reader [ no faceclaim ]

a/n; this is for my charlie girlies i see your comments ladies and they make me smile im lurking and im stalking when you least expect it; all art used in this is by my lord and saviour dan mora if i could eat his artsyle i would

liked by charles_leclerc and 430,010 others

ynlantern thank you everyone who stopped by for a print or a sticker @ comic_con ! and if you haven't, i'm here for the next 2 days

view all 100,333 comments

orangleclerc HE'S IN THE LIKES Y'ALL

kirbyvettel can someone pls explain what's going on orangleclerc I'll DM you the video baconforza HEY I WANT TO KNOW TOO lionkingseb ffs please someone explain

egggrosjean I've never cared about anything superhero related but this whole situation made me look into your work, and I have to say it's amazing!!! Keep up the good work

roboclaren HE FOLLOWED HER BACK LMAO

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, ynlantern and 5,331,254 others

pierregasly He's great with kids and dogs

view all 1,699,314 comments

monte_carlos_55 STOP EMBARASSING HIM

verstoppen "My crush is coming act cool" My friends:

charles_leclerc What did I say

pierregasly I'm doing free promotion charles_leclerc You're talking a lot of shit for someone within bitch slap distance pierregasly Delete this, you're ruining my marketing strategy

scuderiaferrari It's true! He's actually a driver, strategist and team principal!

ynlantern isn't half of that your job? scuderiaferrari @ charles_leclerc Nevermind, we don't like her. charles_leclerc 😐

liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly, carlossainz55 and 1,200,100 others

ynlantern i heard he solved world hunger or something

view all 800,121 comments

vertiddieenjoyer WAR IS OVER

ceruleanwilliams historians in 2294 trying to figure out what charles leclerc actually did and what the internet said he did to get him a date: 😰

pierregasly No need to thank me

honeyvettel the real main character

arthur_leclerc You did it. You crazy son of a bitch you did it.

charles_leclerc No swearing under her posts, please arthur_leclerc Yes, mom.

liked by ynlantern, carlossainz55, maxverstappen1 and 2,474,551 others

charles_leclerc Round 2 :)

view all 505,041 comments

scuderiaferrari That was fast

carlossainz55 Unlike our pitstops scuderiaferrari You're getting distracted charles_leclerc Wish I could get distracted out of SF-23

pic credits: instagram and pinterest

blog taglist: @coffeehurricanes @iifloweringnightsii @jsjcue @lanando4 @fastcarsandshit @christianpulisic10 @allygatcr  (it's been a week and im already crying screaming throwing up without f1 help me)

[i-arch-my-backula]

Horror characters seeing their s/o covered in blood

Happy Halloween everyone. I did a poll awhile ago on what I should post for Halloween and this won. So I'm here to deliver what y'all voted on. I included a lot of characters in this just for fun. Disclaimer I haven't written for some of these characters in awhile or that much at all, so sorry if some of these are ooc.

Includes: Amanda Young, Michael Myers, Otis Driftwood, The Lost Boys, Candyman, Doomhead, Patrick Bateman, Severen Van Sickle, Pyramid Head, and The Sinclair brothers

Warnings: Mentions of real and fake blood, slightly suggestive content, gn reader, talk of drinking blood in The Lost Boys and Severen's section, violence, murder

Amanda Young

You weren't supposed to find out about what Amanda did. She wanted to keep you separate from the gore of her apprentice work. But accidents happen and somehow you get to where a trap had happened.

You were in the where-house when you slipped on a puddle of blood and got your entire front half covered in it. You screamed out and Amanda quickly came rushing in.

You standing there covered in blood made something tick inside of Amanda. Something she knows she shouldn't feel seeing you covered in blood.

But she pushes this aside and quickly assures you it's fake blood that happened to spill all over the ground. She can't stop herself from giving you a quick kiss before helping you leave.

She'll get you all cleaned up back at home but she won't be able to stop thinking about seeing you covered in blood.

Michael Myers

Michael was out while you were getting ready for a Halloween party. A part of your costume involved you getting drenched in fake blood. After pouring the fake blood all over yourself in your bathtub you let it dry and step out.

You're downstairs, gathering up your things for the party when you notice the feeling that you're being watched. You turn around and spot Michael watching you.

Michael knows what real blood looks like and considering you're pretty calm he knows this is for your costume. But something inside of him is yelling at him. Not in the usual 'kill someone' way, but in a 'get them and try not to hurt them' way.

You're going to be late to that Halloween party. Michael is going to stand there and make you spin around for him so he can watch you move while you're covered in blood. You know he's getting some kind of kick out of this, so who are you to stop his fun.

After this Michael will try to hint at you to get covered in blood more often. He'll even offer to get the blood this time, but it wouldn't be fake if he got it. He'll keep thinking about you covered in blood and won't be forgetting how it made him feel anytime soon.

Otis Driftwood

You walked in on him at a bad time. While you've grown to accept what your boyfriend does, you don't like partaking in his torture of other people. But when you walked into the wrong room at the wrong time you got sprayed all over with blood.

It coats your face, hair and chest. You thankfully didn't get any in your eyes or mouth. You do let out a scream of surprise but you're not too grossed out by the blood, living with the Firefly family for as long as you have will do that.

Otis takes a good long few moments to just stare at you. You're hot enough as it is, but seeing you all covered in blood like this? Otis is going to have to go take a long cold shower.

"Well isn't this my lucky day." He'll say before walking over to you, completely ignoring the victim now. He'll take all of you in and won't let you wash it off so quickly.

"I just wanna take a couple pictures of ya darlin'." He'll quickly get his camera out and have you pose for him while you're still covered in blood. This will come in handy when he's having art block or he just needs to have some 'personal time'.

The Lost boys

It's your first time feeding and it ended up getting really messy for you, considering you've never done it before. So you got just as much blood all over yourself as you did in your mouth.

Dwayne is the first to notice and he's smirking a little to himself as he watches your blood covered body move. He's committing this sight to memory and he'll probably find a way to get you covered in blood again.

David is the next to notice. He'll smile wider than Dwayne and make some comments about how messy eating can get at times. But he'll also talk about how hot you look covered in blood.

Marko doesn't even make a comment, he just straight up lunges and kisses you right then and there, fangs still out and everything. Seeing you all vamped out and covered in blood really got to him, making him loose all self composer that he has.

Paul also joins in on kissing you, but he'll opt for your neck since your mouth is taken. I can see him licking some blood off of you, but not too much because he loves the sight of you drenched in blood. But the boys will agree to try and get you that messy again the next time you feed.

Candyman

You didn't want to go with him. You summoned him and when he showed you how devoted he is to you, you didn't want to go. So he had no other option than to make you go by force.

You're entering your apartment after going to a Halloween party. Your costume was something you put together quickly and involved you pouring fake blood all over your front half. As you walk further into your apartment you get a strange feeling.

You try to ignore it as you walk to your bathroom to wash off the fake blood. Before you can do that you hear something moving in your medicine cabinet. You open it and after a few moments a hook jumps through it. You obviously scream and run out of your bathroom.

You're in your kitchen, picking up your phone when you see him again. He's looking at you with that same adoration in his eye from the first time you met him. He's looking you up and down. You're frozen again as he watches you.

"You're even more desirable covered in blood," He says in his sultry voice. You shed a couple tears as you try to move, but you're unable to. "I'll have to remember this the next time I see you my love. I'll never be able to forget this."

Doomhead

He knew you were going to a Halloween party, but what he didn't know was that you were going to be covered in blood when you came home. He knows real blood from fake blood and when he sees you he can't help but chuckle.

31 is coming up and he's always tried to keep you separate from it. Seeing you covered in blood is a bit of a double edged sword for him. On one hand he loves seeing you covered in blood, but he also can't stop thinking about 31, and what would happen if you got caught in it.

"Ok so I got a little too close to one of the decorations and I accidentally got covered in fake blood." You explain, taking off your shoes, "I should probably shower all of this off."

"Well I was hoping to get a better look at you like this." He says with a Cheshire grin. You roll your eyes but smile and walk over to him. He spins you around a bit, taking a good look at all of the blood on you.

He knows he'll have to tell you about 31 eventually, and that he'll always keep you away from it. But for right now he can enjoy watching his s/o look stunning while covered in blood.

Patrick Bateman

He got a little too careless and right as he was killing someone you walked in, getting covered in blood from the victim. You of course start to scream and he quickly covers your mouth.

He's so angry with you for interrupting this, but something about seeing your face and body covered with blood, excites him. "I can explain this. Calm down and listen to me." He says, trying to keep his voice calm. His anger starts to mix with arousal as he slowly slides his hand away from your mouth.

"Oh my god Patrick what happened? Who is this?" You ask, holding back tears. His attraction to you is starting to get a bit too much for him. He'll find a way to explain this murder, just like he'll find a way to explain why he wants to do it while you're covered in blood.

"He broke in and attacked me. I had to fight him off and I went a bit too hard I think. We can't tell anyone about this alright?" He says, trying his best to keep a calm, in control voice, "But right now we need to get to the bedroom.

Murder's don't get him as excited as seeing you covered in blood got him. He'll have to go out and buy some fake blood and recreate this with you again. He's glad he has such an understanding s/o.

Severen Van Sickle

It's been awhile since your last feed and when you finally got someone you could barely hold back from drinking as quickly as possible. Because you were so worried about eating as much as you could as quickly as possible you got yourself covered in blood.

After you pushed the body away Severen took notice of your blood soaked clothes. He couldn't stop himself from smiling and taking a good long look at you. He knows you'll be too full to do anything after feeding that much so he'll have to commit this sight to memory, just for some fun activities later.

You wipe your mouth and smear more blood over your face and Severen can barely contain himself at this point. He'll have to quickly ask you if you're up to help him, or if he should do it alone.

Either way he doesn't want you cleaning yourself up anytime soon. Even after his issue is taken care of he just wants to see you covered in blood. He loves how it looks in general but also aesthetically. If he has a camera on hand he's taking a picture of you.

He will try to recreate this later. Next time you're feeding he'll try to get blood all over you. I can see him filling up his mouth with blood and just spitting it on you because let's be honest, he's very dirty and probably has as many diseases as a stray cat.

Pyramid Head

You're walking around Silent Hill, trying to find some more food to stock up on when you come across one of Pyramid Head's recent kills. You don't notice and you slip on the puddle of blood.

You're used to the blood and gore of living with Pyramid Head in Silent Hill so slipping on blood and getting it all over your clothes is more of an inconvenience than scary. You groan and stand up, looking at blood slightly dripping off your clothes.

You turn around and find him standing near you. "I just slipped on some blood. It's not mine and I'm not hurt." You say. You can never really tell what he's feeling or his emotions but you can sense he's feeling a certain way about you being covered in blood.

You two just stand there while Pyramid Head is thinking about smearing more blood all over you. Seeing you covered in blood is doing something to him. So he walks over, get's blood on his hands and rubs it over your face and clothes.

He'll follow you around and just keep watching you while you're covered in blood. He'll be thinking about this for awhile, and he'll try to recreate it whenever there's free time or he just needs to see you covered in blood.

Bo Sinclair

You were busy going after a victim and it got a bit messy. You got yourself covered in blood. By the time you get the body back to the House of Wax the blood that's on your hair and face has dripped down to soak your clothes even more.

You hand it off to Vincent and when Bo sees you he pauses for a moment before he chuckles. "I like yer new look darlin'." He says teasingly. But he's using that teasing to mask how damn hot you are covered in blood.

You're able to pick up on this and you know a great way to get him back for making you chase down someone and kill them.

"Oh I know. I love this look too." You say teasingly back to him, moving your hands up and rubbing your hand over your face and neck, getting a good amount of blood on it. You walk over to Bo and smear the blood on his shirt before you step back.

"Too bad I'm about to wash it off." You say before you dodge Bo trying to grab you, "If you catch me before we get to the house I'll let you wash it off." You say before running out of the house, Bo follows behind quickly.

Lester Sinclair

You're helping Lester out by picking up a deer from the road. You're in the middle of lifting it into the truck when something happens and you get covered in deer blood.

Lester quickly rushes over to you and lifts the deer into the back of the truck. He's looking you over and making sure that you're ok. You'll have to assure him at least ten times that you're perfectly ok and that the deer just got blood all over you.

Now knowing that you're ok he does kind of realize that, you look good covered in blood. Lester loves when you get a bit dirty in general, but blood has him feeling a bit more excited than normal.

He'll zone out a bit for awhile until you bring him back and he acts like everything is good and he's totally not obsessing over the look of you covered in blood.

He'll keep this to himself until it starts to boil over and he admits to you that he hasn't stopped thinking about you being covered in blood. If you suggest the idea of getting covered in blood again he'll be all over that idea.

Vincent Sinclair

When you offered to model for Vincent's study you didn't expect to get covered in fake blood. But Vincent wanted you covered in blood and you didn't really mind so that's what the two of you do.

You stay still the entire time but you notice Vincent staring more than he is drawing. But once he notices you noticing him he gets back to drawing you.

He takes his damn well time to draw you and at one point he stands up and walks over to you. He starts to pose you in a different way and it's totally not an excuse to touch you and see you covered in blood up close.

He'll put you in so many different positions and will keep pouring blood on you. He's honestly memorized by you standing there covered in blood. At one point he'll bust out the camera and ask if he can film.

He sees you being covered in blood in a more romantic, artistic way that makes his heart beat faster. He'll have to get you covered in blood more often so he can draw, paint, photograph, etc you.

[angelplummie]

here for revenge.

being lily's best friend - you grow up with her - you're in the donaldsons orbit for all your formative years. you develop a crush on art that turns into love as you grow older. your home life isn't so glamorous. you spend lots of weekends at the donaldsons. art has tucked you in. brought you snacks when you stayed up late for movie nights, making you and lily promise not to tell tashi. you were there when art and tashi got divored, held lilys hand and pretended not to be happy inside at the thought of getting closer to art.

lily gets into college - a big smart one because she has tashi's ambition and leaves you behind, you're still stuck at home because your dreams have always been smaller.

maybe its not appropriate, to still spend time with art. but he's lonely. tashi left, and now his daughter has and you're the only one left in his life that actually wants to be around him, that has always looked at him with stars in your eyes. its probably not healthy. there should be a boundary there. your lilies, not his.

but you like being around him and he likes having someone to take care of. you come over and he makes you eat something healthy and you needle him about spending all his time at home and how he should get out more, and he rolls his eyes, tells you he should be saying the same to you, you're young and beautiful and you should be dating around.

but how can you date around when art donaldson is your dream man? when you're happiest at his side, eating what he makes you. you want more though. you want to share his bed, warm it for him, you want to make him not so lonely, you want him to stop seeing you as a little girl and as the adult you've grown up to be - so you start wearing less and less around him. start acting more and more like a housewife.

art accepts it without even realizing. now you just need to find the right opportunity to pounce.

WHEW. this one is long so buckle up

“art?”

“mr donaldson.”

you roll your eyes.

“mr donaldson, how come you never started dating again?”

he chopped the lemon with a deft clunk, eyes never leaving the knife.

“never felt the urge.”

“what does that mean?”

“what i just said. never felt the need to.”

“hm.”

you sat on the island, next to the chopping board. your legs swung haphazardly, and you watched art as he chopped.

why was he playing this game? he could’ve told you to leave, to stop coming back and bothering him, that this was inappropriate. and yet. he didn’t even tell you to get your sorry butt off the counter, or some such dad-ism. the low glow of the many warm lamps that adorned such a luxurious house illuminated art so softly, he looked as young as the day lily was born. he was as fit as back then, if not meatier. he didn’t have the pouch your dad had, but the years had given him a thickness. instead of wasting away like most lean men did, he struggled to the other side. he got broader. layer upon layer of muscle encased in a thin finishing of fat. he was skinnier when you were a kid, but he had no reason to be lean now. under his chin a tiny hammock of pudge rested as his head tilted down, kissed by light stubble. his blonde hair was streaked in silver, but that somehow made him younger looking. made him glow. he had grown it out, by your suggestion. he was everything in the world a man should be.

“what about you?”

“i hate boys. they’re all stupid.”

“you got that right. you’re too good for all of them, never settle.”

“maybe it’s just boys my own age. theyre so immature.”

arts wide chest heaves. his eyes flick to you then flick back down. you see it all, and cross one leg over the other.

“maybe.”

“what were you like when you were my age?”

he laughs at the memory.

“stupid, immature, evil. if i was anything to go by you should swear off men entirely until menopause.”

air left your chest cavity.

“i don’t wanna wait. i want a fully formed one.”

you watched the muscles in arts forearms flex as he squeezed the lemon onto salad. the main course was cooking, was singing loudly on the stove. art had gotten into cooking after the divorce. it took all his attention and put it in one place, something complex and delicate and time consuming. it helped to clear his head. it wasn’t helping right this second.

“i shouldn’t say that,” he said curtly,”boys your age aren’t so bad. give them a go and quit hanging out with an old man.”

“but i like you, old man.”

art was so harsh on himself. he really wasn’t that old. and you really weren’t that young.

he pressed his lips together and kept squeezing. his pink lips, that gave his face the everlasting youth it held. he shrugged his shoulders in that way he did when he was confronted with the truth of your arrangement. there was something going on. something very, very, very wrong. you were the same age as his daughter. 3 months younger. he was the worst man in the world. the worst person to ever breathe. what could he do though? tell you to go? tell you to leave his house and never come back? what would become of you then? without him, what pillar of paternity would you rely upon? what new low would you reach? what men would you come across, and what would you do to please them? while he gingerly entertained you, you dangled something in front of his face that others would not have the restraint or morality to resist. if you had to move to another target, your next victim might not care so deeply for your wellbeing. were you not altogether safer, sitting in his kitchen, eating his caesar salad, rather than inhaling second hand cigarettes from old wrinkled fucks who might murder you, or worse-

“art?”

“mr donaldson.”

“you got a bunch of lemon pips in the salad.”

“oh.”

he set down the lemon.

“are you ok? you seem tense.”

“i’m good. are you cold? i can turn on the heating if you like.”

“no. it’s actually quite warm in here.”

he hears the zip of your hoodie and starts away from the island, under the pretence of getting a paper towel to deposit the lemon seeds on. your jumper clatters to the counter, and you watch his adam’s apple bob as he swallows. low cut top. he knows that’s what you’re wearing. because that’s all it’s been for the past 2 months. your mini skirt flowers around you as you sit, but when you stand each swish and sway of the fabric is a death sentence. god forbid you take the stairs for some ungodly reason.

“hey, you know what you said about never having the urge?”

oh, fuck off, he thought. fuck off. leave him be. leave him alone. release him.

“yes.”

“you can’t really mean that can you?”

“sure i can.”

“i mean, you can. but i don’t think you do.”

you twirled a strand of hair in between your fingers. your stomach grumbled, loud enough that he could hear. you were so hungry you could die, but if you ate what art was frying your breath would smell like fish all night.

“let me check the salmon.”

“i’m not that hungry. you can’t mean that you never had the urge to. everyone has urges.”

“well sure. but after tashi, i needed a breather. a grace period, if you will. you can’t go from marriage with a woman like her right into dating.”

“but it’s been 3 years. you must be over it by now?”

he ignored the hope in your voice. ignore, ignore, ignore.

“i am over it. but. women scare me.”

he walked languidly over the salmon. it was ready.

“i don’t scare you, i’m a woman.”

a woman. he turned off the stove, and turned to fix you with a stare for the first time tonight. a woman. that was not the word he would use to describe you. your eyes were the size of saucers, and you bat your lashes languidly, like you knew how much you were making him suffer. you sat up pin straight, and twisted your spine to make eye contact with him. your body. he tried not to look. tried not to look in front of you and see the twisted grin come across your lips. but he was a weak man. the weakest of men, and his eyes dragged over where a fatherly view should never cross. your perky new tits, the press and curve of your ass against the counter, the plush of your thighs. it seemed you had grown up overnight, and didn’t know you were still a baby. you’re a baby. you knew what you were doing to him. you knew. he blushed involuntarily.

“you scare me most of all.”

his voice trembled. he hadn’t meant to say that. hadn’t meant to dignify you will any response at all. it had crossed his mind and then it crossed his lips.

your eyes lit up with extreme delight. he liked to make you happy, but his stomach churned with the thought of why.

“why?”

he turned back around, and plated up your salmon, adding potatos and asparagus from the same pan, drizzling it all in the residual oil.

“why art?”

“mr donaldson.”

a twinge of irritation tickles your stomach. what was he fighting this for? you’re all grown up now. you both knew what was going to happen. he was resisting fate, the inevitable.

all your life you had known he was the man you were meant to be with. from that first time he kissed your forehead as you dozed off on the couch, thinking you were asleep. when his strong arms would carry both you and his daughter, flinging you around, threatening to dunk you in their backyard pool. when he would catch your eye in the rear view mirror as he drove you around and winked. he was so nice. so nice and brave and kind and warm, and if you had to be with any man it should be him because you’ve loved him since you were 8, and now you’re old enough to claim it. you’re not just a dumb kid with a crush. you love him. you understand it being one sided back then. but it isn’t anymore, and you wouldn’t let him deny it. with gliding footsteps you approached him, drawing closer every second he didn’t turn around. a hand rests on his shoulder blade.

“just stop,” you breathed after a pause.

his spatula clattered to the pan with a metallic thunk. you pull your hand away like he burnt you. he gripped the counter with a sigh and hung his head.

“you stop. stop it now,” his voice was stern. you felt yourself shrink. art was never stern.

“i know what you’re thinking, and it’s not going to happen. this has gone on far too long and it stops right now.”

a mere few paces from his wide curved back, you blink. the urge to touch him is overwhelming. you want to press your hand to his back, feel him under your palm and tell him you know he wants this. you know he wants this just as bad as you do.

but you don’t, because he’s angry at you, and he’s never been angry at you before.

“i’ve let you come here and cooked you food and watched movies with you because you’re a good kid. because i knew you as a kid and i know your problems with your father and i wanted to be there for you when lily is away. but you have taken this too far. you’re my daughters best friend. i have cleaned up your vomit twice, i baked you a cake for your 13th birthday- it’s not right. i’ve tried to be understanding, i’ve tried to ignore it, but you never drop it. never. your lack of self respect is staggering. you have to drop it right now or, im sorry but you can’t come back here anymore.”

every muscle fibre was clenched. if the counter top wasn’t marble it would’ve crunch and fell away under his grip. he couldn’t take it anymore. he didn’t know how much longer he could be good. didn’t know how much longer he could take resisting you.

maybe he was harsh. but it was the right thing to do. the only thing to do. he rested his elbow on the counter, and between his forefinger and his thumb held the bridge of his nose. he exhaled loudly. he hadn’t meant for it to come out that way, hadn’t planned it. but now it was out. he had stared the elephant in the room dead in its eyes. he felt lighter, somewhat liberated.

until he turned around after a few too many seconds of silence to see you turned away from him, slightly hunched over. he stepped closer, and saw your hands covering your mouth. you body jolted, and you drew in quick, grasping breaths. you were crying. he said your name, and you didn’t turn to look at him.

“i’m sorry. i’m sorry mr donaldson.”

all the relief he felt was replaced by swift, acute, crushing guilt. your hair fell over your face, shielding you from him. he said your name once more. you sniffed.

“hey, hey hey hey.”

against his better judgement, and because of the aching of his heart, he took you gently by the shoulders, and turned you to face him.

“i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.”

tears spill from your eyes and you wipe them away with a heavy hand, refusing to meet his eyes. his neck craned down to your eye level, his thumbs began tracing circle in your shoulders. a thoughtless gesture but one that made you cry even harder.

“i’m sorry. i don’t know what i was thinking. im just so sorry.”

“hey, it’s ok. it’s alright.”

“it’s not alright. i’ve ruined everything. i’ve made it- so- weird. i just thought that you- you wanted me. i’m so stupid.”

your mascara runs, painting your face with your turmoil.

how could you be so dense? you had been making him uncomfortable. he didn’t want you. the only reason he even let you hang around was obligation. because of what you meant to lily. you didn’t mean anything to him. you were just some kid. did he even think you’re pretty? you bet he didn’t.

worse than that, you had disappointed him. him. he was supposed to be everything your dad wasn’t. and now he was disappointed. you had failed. you had ruined everything. what even were you? were you even human?

“don’t. you’re not stupid. don’t say that.”

“i’m sorry. i just- i wanted to make you happy. that’s all i ever wanted. i wanted you to be happy with me. you were so- so- so crushed after the divorce, i-i just-“

he guides you over to the bar stool, and you let him. you sit across from each other. his hand touches your cheek, the other holds you shoulder still. the touch of his hand quietens your babbling, your eyes round and wet and open.

“you do make me happy.”

your lips parted, plump with crying.

“i do?”

he cringes at the hope in your voice, at the feeling in his chest that it stirs. the feeling in his whole body at touching, after so many years, your soft skin. the last time he held your face you were 8, crying over a bumped knee. he had very different feelings now than he did then. sympathy and concern had ebbed, making way for much darker, much more corrosive emotions. he felt guilt and want broil in the chambers of his stomach, and the evilness inside him told him how easy to would be to get what he wanted. how close he was.

“yes. you’re my favourite buddy, we have a great time together,” he ruffled your shoulder like you pat a dog, speaking quick to placate you.

the hope in your eyes dwindled.

“so,” you sniffled, “you don’t feel anything for me? you don’t-don’t want me at all?”

with your convulsive sobbing your chest rose and fell, and with each jolt you spilled further out of your thread bare top. he closed his eyes, and swallowed, adam’s apple bobbing. inhaling deeply, his fingers released your shoulder.

“it doesn’t matter what i want.”

“yes it does, it matters the most,” you answer immediately, tears gone from your eyes, now sliding down from your water line and down your cheek, “what do you want?”

what does art want? when was the last time he asked himself that question? years. at least. he drew away from you. you felt sick.

he turned on the stool, ducking his head and cradling his face in his hands

“i want…”

what the fuck was he saying? he couldn’t say this to you. he couldn’t. but he was.

“i… you’re a very gorgeous girl. you’re sweet. you’re smart. you’re funny. i like you very much.”

he said it like he was confessing to murder. elbow resting on his knee, his hand covered his eyes with splayed fingers. god, he was going to hell for this. even saying the words felt like the deepest sin imaginable, and he was sanitising his truth extensively. what he thought about at night, when you went home and his house became cold again, when he got into the shower and mechanically relieved himself into the drain, that was truly deplorable. when he touched himself, it was you he thought of. invariably. everything a man could possibly do to a girl, everything a girl could possibly do to a man, he had laid up in his bed and touched himself to with you in mind. ropes and ropes and ropes of cum in your honour, so gently splattered on shower walls and bedsheets he needed to wash anyway. sometimes he came on his torso, just to feel young and frivolous, like you were. and when he did his brain would turn back on, and he would feel so guilty that he would lay there to soak up his guilt, a punishment for himself from himself. so yes. he wanted you. he wanted you very, very badly. with every fibre of his being, he craved you. and with every fibre of his soul, he hated himself for it. but apparently he was still talking. what his morality urged him his mouth couldn’t hear, or wouldn’t obey.

“so don’t think you’re delusional. you had every reason to think i might reciprocate.”

you watched him, glossy eyes wide as ever. he peeked from beneath his fingers, immediately covering his eyes again when he saw you watch him. he shouldn’t have said that. he shouldn’t have. that was bad, it’s only giving you hope, and there is no hope. he can’t, he can’t. he want to so badly but he can’t. god, no he can’t. it would be so easy but easy isn’t right and how could he ever look his daughter in the eyes again if he did? how could he look at tashi?

“mr donaldson?”

“mm,” he replied miserably.

“kiss me.”

slowly, exhausted, he lifted up his head. mistake. now he was thinking about it as he looked at your face, puffy and damp and shining like a star.

why did he look so disgusted? what was so wrong with you? you couldn’t stop yourself from barreling ahead, feeling his premature rejection like a rock in your stomach.

“just once. then i’ll leave and i’ll never bother you and you won’t see me anymore and i’ll go to church and ill get a therapist, but just once.”

he looks so tired. so tired and so fucking good. his eyes smouldered with deep thought, the thought only a mature man can have. he was so mature. he was so much larger than you. he could hurt you if he wanted to. he could make you do anything but all he did was look at you so tired it made you squirm inside. as your sobs died in your throat, regret and embarrassment become indistinguishable from desire.

he blinked slowly, and opened his mouth. the white of his teeth glittered. his tongue pawed the inside of his cheek. he was thinking about it.

how could he be thinking about it? he was the worst person in the world. and yet. and yet. one kiss. he could control it with one kiss. one kiss wouldn’t hurt. one kiss. he had kissed your head before. your cheek. what was so different about this?

wordlessly, he moved off the stool. heart in your mouth you waited. a tremulous breath shuddered from your chest as he took one step. two steps. three steps. until he was stood above you. his face was unreadable. not cold. not warm. just looking, appraising from above his brown lower lashes, down his strong kissable nose.

“one kiss?”

his hand rose slowly, palm facing upwards. his finger tips grazed your jaw, your chin, tilting your head up. fireworks burst in your stomach, and you resisted the urge to moan.

“one. that’s all.”

one. that would be all. one kiss and he would put this silly fascination away for good. a kiss is deniable. a kiss is nothing.

he stoops down, can feel the nerves vibrating from your skin. his head tilts slightly, and your eyes lock as he descends to your level. his hand moves into your hair, a combing hold. and you kiss. no tongue. your lips connect, mush and expand over the others. his nose touched your cheek. your arms remained stiff by your side as they gripped the stool. you felt the pinkness of his lips, felt the edge of his cupids bow. and then he pulled away.

there. one kiss. he had done what he had to to get you to drop it. had fulfilled your criteria, and now you could move on. now he could move on.

but if that was true, why was he leaning in again? why did almost tasting your saliva, a substance he had thought about in great detail, make him hungrier for it? why was almost having it worse than never coming close? why did he pull gently on your hair, making your head tip back, opening you mouth so he could kiss the part of you he craved; the inside part? why was he hard if it was over?

his tongue flicked gently inside, asking permission. your mouths closed together, making the kiss noise you hate hearing but love making. they open quickly and in sequence. your hands rise up to gently hover over his chest, barely grazing his shirt. you didn’t want to touch him too hard in case he dissipated into a cloud of smoke, an illusion.

but he was very real, and under your timid girlish touch he was undone. a soft exhalation like a groan into your mouth, and his tongue protruded. it touched yours and you tasted the salt on it, shivering. his other hand fell back to your shoulder, gripping so hard it was like had no idea what he was doing. feeling your mouth against his was all that there was. there wasn’t right, there wasn’t wrong, there was only sensation.

all the want he had saved for solitary and depressing masturbation now burst through his veins, into his actions and he kissed you with all the passion in him. with everything he’s never said, with all the times he held back with you, with tashi. he kissed you like if he didn’t he would die, breathing and groaning and grunting involuntarily. he mashed his face to yours, crushing your lips, taking your bottom lip between his teeth before recapturing your mouth in a sloppy open mouthed kiss. it felt like steam evaporated from where your met, so hot and wet.

you didn’t know what was your and what was art, where you finished and art began. you meshed like the broken pieces of a vase slotted against each other. his tongue became so wild it clipped the side of your mouth in its frantic exploration, and you sighed.

ultimately it was you who had to pull away. you pulled your hands into your own chest, gasping for breath. he didn’t move an inch. he gripped your shoulder still, cradled your face the same. he opened his eyes, chest rising and falling graciously.

he surveyed you, still too high from your touch to feel guilt, with lazy eyes. he was so fucked. your eyes sparkled like glitter. your lips shined pearly with his spit. his.

“art?”

“yes?”

“it’s not just one kiss is it?”

despite himself, despite everything, he smiled.

“no. i don’t think it is.”

[airprime7]

Why am I seeing so many fake posts on my dash? Like, there's ones from all sorts of made up realities, I'm surprised I haven't seen ones set in webcomics or whatever.

0 notes

♊️ twinarmageddons reblogged

♊️ twinarmageddons

all of you iidiiot2 need two 2hut up about computer2 unle22 you know what you're talkiing about. ii 2wear ii 2aw 2ome guy telliing people two pour water on theiir keyboard2 two clean them.

♉️ adiostoreador

uH,,,

iS THAT NOT HOW YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO, uH, dO IT,

♊️ twinarmageddons

oh my fuckiing god 2ome people are actual iidiiot2

#ii mean come on you actually beliieved that

22 notes

♑️ terminallycapricious

wAsSuP mOtHeRfUcKeRs???

#HoNk

420 notes

♌️ arseniccatnip reblogged

♌️ arseniccatnip

:33 < hiii!!!

:33 < my name is nepeta leijon, and this is my furst post!

:33 < i like shipping, and rolepurrlaying, and hunting

:33 < i have troll pawtism, so i might not be the best at understanding things. sorry if i get confused!

:33 < i also do art, and my commissions are open! purrlease don't ask me to draw trolls pailing, i'm only 6

:33 < bye! :33

♋️ carcinogeneticist

HOW STUPID DO YOU HAVE TO BE TO PUT YOUR FULL NAME IN YOUR PINNED POST.

DON'T YOU KNOW THE FIRST RULE OF GRUMBLR IS NEVER USE YOUR REAL NAME, YOU IDIOTIC EXCUSE FOR A PERSON.

♒️ caligulasaquarium Follow

wwhy is your text grey

♋️ carcinogeneticist

I DON'T KNOW, WHY ARE YOU SUCH A PRETENTIOUS ASSHOLE, FISH FACE.

🤡 i-say-honk Follow

hOnK!

♋️ carcinogeneticist

FUCK OFF, TC, WE ALL KNOW IT'S YOU.

THIS STUPID "GIMMICK BLOG" ISN'T EVEN FUNNY.

♌️ arseniccatnip

:33 < @carcinogeneticist @caligulasaquarium @i-say-honk kill yourselves

#:33 < :33

333 notes

♍️ grimauxiliatrix reblogged

♈️ apocalypsearisen Follow

im dead n0w

♍️ grimauxiliatrix

Mood

#Honestly I Cant Believe I Made It Through This Week Alone

60 notes

♋️ carcinogeneticist reblogged

👻 ectobiologist Follow

hi! how do i use this app?

♋️ carcinogeneticist

HUMAN ALERT.

@human-alarm

👤 human-alarm Follow

BEEP

612 notes

♋️ carcinogeneticist reblogged

♐️ centaurstesticle Follow

D -> The day we stop valuing horses is the day society collapses

♐️ centaurstesticle

D -> @cuttlefishculler Perhaps I do share some interests with the protagonist of the new popular movie starring Troll Ryan Gosling

D -> If anything that would be a compliment

D -> Not that that's something a f001 such as yourself would understand

♓️ cuttlefishculler Follow

)(-EY, I was just joking around. No need to start being c-rude!!! 380

♏️ arachnidsgrip Follow

Protagonist!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

What movie did you watch? 8ecause 8ar8ie is defin8ly the hero of the one I saw, hooves-for-8rains.

♈️ apocalypsearisen Follow

i liked the 0ne with the b0mb m0re

♒️ caligulasaquarium Follow

rustblood, opinion disregarded

♋️ carcinogeneticist

BLATANT HEMOPHOBIA ASSIDE, ARE WE JUST GOING TO IGNORE OP'S URL?

♊️ twinarmageddons

forget that, cc ii2 the ACTUAL HEIIRE22

♋️ carcinogeneticist

HOLY SHIT, WHO CARES.

1380 notes

♏️ arachnidsgrip reblogged

♏️ arachnidsgrip

You know, I think the murders were good for me.

♎️ gallowscalibrator Follow

VR1SK4, YOU K1LL3D 31GHTY-31GHT P3OPL3.

♏️ arachnidsgrip

Yeah, 8ut I'm over it now. It doesn't effect me anymore.

#I've moved on.

413 notes

♉️ adiostoreador reblogged

💽 turntechgodhead Follow

man i cant believe troll steve jobs died of ligma

♉️ adiostoreador

wHO, uM, wHO'S TROLL STEVE JOBS?

[parkerluvsu]

need some virgin! art x touch starved! reader who really fucking needs some action and he just DOESN’T KNOW HOW so it’s a lot of laughter but both of them kiss so desperately…

I'D WANNA BE NEXT TO YOU..

(virgin art donaldson x touch starved! fem reader)

art has been your best friend since forever.. from sharing ice cream cones as kids to sharing homework answers in high school. you didn't want to lose him when he went all the way to stanford for college, so you went with him, stating that you already wanted to go to school there, it was just a coincidence that they had a tennis program for art. it was no secret that you two liked each other, it was obvious since you were young, and once you decided to follow art to college it was clear to him that he wanted to do something about it.

it was a normal sunny day at school, you made your way down the winding paths to the tennis courts like you usually do after class, knowing art is probably there practicing. he greets you with his usual smile and wave, walking over to say hi, spitting out his gum on the way. "hey, you're here earlier than usual" he says, "not that im complaining" you look away to hide the light blush forming on your face. "yeah well my lecture ended early, i thought i'd come surprise you" you smile, admiring the thin sheen of sweat on arts face, the moisture turning his hair curlier than usual. art says that his practice isn't over yet, but he'll come hang out at your dorm after. you nod, leaving and heading to your room to prepare. you know it's not normal to feel this pressure to be perfect for your friend, but you can't help but take a quick shower, slathering your body and hair in sweet smelling soap and spraying some perfume around the room.

you feel your stomach jump when art knocks on your door (you should really just give him a key), walking over and looking back at your room to make sure everything looked good, before opening the door. art immediately notices the sweet smell of you, his eyes fluttering shut as he greets you. "hi.. you smell nice" he says shyly, a big change from his demeanor earlier. you smile, waving him into your room and sitting cross legged on the bed. art sits next to you, on the edge of the bed, which you find strange, usually he gets comfortable right away. "are you okay art? you don't seem like yourself.." tilting your head to the side you try to meet arts eyes, but he doesn't look at you. "you know you can talk to me art, we've been friends since forever, you know?" he nods slowly, taking a deep breath before turning and facing you, sitting cross legged like you are. "okay.. ill tell you, but promise not to laugh at me okay?" you nod, urging him to speak more. "well.. patrick has been making fun of me a lot lately, you know how he is.. when he found out i was a virgin in college he couldn't believe it.. and- and i know we've been friends forever so i was wondering if you could help" he blurts it out so fast you have to take as second to actually understand what he means. "art.. are you sure? i mean wouldn't you want your first time to be with someone you like?" you ask, hoping you'll get the answer you're looking for. "i- it would be, if it was with you" he says, hanging his head down. he knows it's putting you in an awkward situation but it's now or never. you don't know why it happens, but you start to giggle, your heart filling with happiness after art confessed. "listen, art you know i'd do anything for you yeah? i just wanna make sure you actually want this.. with me, i don't want you to regret it" art looks toward you, finally meeting your eyes with his watery blue ones. "i could never regret anything i do with you" he says, leaning closer and pressing his lips to yours, sighing happily when you take control of the kiss, deepening it as you climb into his lap. pulling away and cupping his flushed face with your hands you press your forehead against his. "tell me if you want to stop okay art? ill take care of you i promise" he nods slowly, only looking at your lips and wishing they were on his again. you kiss him, more aggressively than before as you let your fingers wander down his chest, gently tugging at the hem of his shirt, feeling his flushed skin underneath. art gets the message, pulling off his shirt as he lets you do what you want to him, shifting from kissing him to sucking down his neck, leaving blooming purple marks in your wake that are sure to get art in trouble. he welcomes it though, he needs a reminder that you were actually here with him, that he wasn't imagining it. when you make your way back to arts mouth he whines softly, pulling at your shirt, "wanna see more of you.." you laugh softly, leaning back and pulling off your shirt, happy to press your own heated skin against arts. his head is reeling, the first girl he ever liked is kissing him, not just that but she's gonna take his virginity, art almost can't believe it, but feeling of you in his lap pulls him into reality.

after a few minutes you lean up on your elbows, telling art to take his finger out. "did i do something wrong?" he immediately asks, scared that he hurt you. "no no it's okay, i just think that im ready to have you inside of me okay?" he nods quickly and makes his way back up the bed, his hips hanging over yours. you fumble around on your nightstand to find a condom, taking it and handing it to art (who only knows how to put one on due to his embarrassing sex ed classes in high school) and spreading your legs wider to accommodate his frame. art looks quite anxious for someone who's about to lose his virginity with a girl he's liked his whole life, so you take his mind off of it by kissing him softly, not aggressively like before. when he starts to slowly enter you have to close your eyes at the stretch, he's not uncomfortably thick but he's definitely the longest you've taken. opening your eyes you're faced with art in the same situation, fully inside of you but not moving, his eyes scrunched closed. finding his hand white-knuckling the sheets next to your head, you replace the sheets with your own hand, lacing your fingers together. "art are you okay?" he nods, taking a deep breath. "yeah im fine it's just.. you're so warm and tight.. feels like i can't move" he almost whines, slowly dragging his hips out before pressing balls deep inside of you again. "fuck.." art swears he's in heaven when you clench around him, his forehead dropping to touch yours as he starts a steady pace, keeping in mind he could cum pretty much anytime. he can tell he's too nervous to get closer to you, so, making the move first you wrap your arms and legs loosely around him, feeling him actually relax and stop tensing his body. the closeness spurs him on as art sets a faster pace with his hips, now not even pulling out all the way, mostly just humping his hips into you. you weren't expecting him to perform as well as he is, feeling yourself clenching around him as you get closer. "art.. art im close.." you whine out to him and he nods, his eyes still closed as he squeezes your hand. as he gets closer you notice he also gets much louder, whines and moans escaping his lips with no sign of stopping, mostly utterings of "fuck you're so warm" and "please keep squeezing me like that" and though you love hearing him you know your neighbors will complain, so you kiss him yet again, still soft like before, and you can tell that both of you are trying to convey feelings of fondness through it.

you aren't surprised that art cums before you, with a loud moan that you're glad you had the foresight to stifle. it almost sends him into complete overstimulation when you cum, clenching tight around him. after the adrenaline wears off from cumming, art completely rests his body weight on you, his warm body actually weirdly comforting in the moments after sex. you sit in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before art finally pulls out, taking off the condom and throwing it in the trash before laying back down with you. "i really can't thank you enough.. i mean i thought losing my virginity would be awesome but.. that was like next level.." you laugh at arts flattering but funny wording as you flip onto your side, looking up at him. "of course art.. we've been friends forever, there's nothing i wouldn't do for you" arts stomach drops at the mention of friends, immediately thinking the worst. "so.. after this we'll just go back to being friends?" he has the cutest pout on his face when he asks. you almost laugh again, stopping yourself when you see the serious look on his face. "i mean after this i would hope that we could be more than that" you say, sitting up slightly. art let's out a breath he didn't know he was holding when you say that, "thank god.. ive been waiting to ask you to be my girlfriend for like 8 years now.." he smiles genuinely at you, his pretty blue eyes gleaming in the beams from the sun peeking through your window. you lean in, pressing a soft kiss before pulling away, reaching over for his backpack. "what are you doing?" he asks, confused when you hand him his phone. "don't you want to tell patrick the good news?"

art doesn't have much experience with his own pleasure, only finding time to jerk off quickly in the shower or to help himself sleep before bed, so he can't explain it when his hips start to cant against yours, whines and little moans escaping his swollen lips. you smile when his hips start to move, knowing that since it's his first time he probably can't help it, but you can't stop yourself from teasing him. "excited art?" you smile against him. he immediately blushes, hiding his face in your neck. "i- im sorry i don't know why that's happening.." he says, panting into your mouth. you giggle, feeling a bulge against you as you stop kissing art and look at him. arts lips are shiny and slick with spit, his chest and face flushed and his hair curled with sweat. "do you.. want to go further?" you ask even though you know the answer. he nods quickly, "yes.. please i do" you smile, happy with his answer, leaning forward and kissing him. you tap his hips with your hands to signal him to lift them, pulling off his gym shorts and exposing his boxers underneath. he gasps at the pressure of your hand on his bulge, the warmness of your hand feeling different (and much better) than his own. you look up at him, silently asking if you can go further and he nods, lifting his hips again to let you pull off his boxers, groaning when his drooling dick slaps against his tummy, smearing precum where it rests. art is so sensitive that even the air touching him makes him twitch. he looks away, embarrassed of his sensitivity and the fact that he's the only one naked. sensing his nervousness you say softly, "it's okay art, i knew you'd be sensitive, it's your first time after all, i was sensitive too" he smiles and nods, biting the inside of his cheek at the thought of you being the sensitive one.. but he'll save that thought for another day. he's brought rudely back into reality when you touch his dick softly, running your fingers gently from his flushed pink tip to his base, tightening your grip until art pretty much slaps your hand away. "i- im sorry i was too close, i don't wanna cum yet.." he says, trying to avoid the embarrassing truth that he just wants this experience to last longer. you nod, deciding to pull off your shorts and panties as well, for the first time feeling a bit embarrassed as art can't pull his gaze away from you. "you can touch me if you want to art.. i can help you" he nods wordlessly as you switch positions, now you lay back against your pillows as art hovers over you, desperate for the next step. "okay art, so before we do anything you have to prep me okay? it's best to use your fingers.." it's awkward to talk about it to him, but knowing it's his first time helps spur you along. "okay and.. and where do i put them?" art asks, looking up at you for guidance. you move him down the bed, so that he can be face to face with your pussy. the urge to squirm away or cover yourself up is hard to resist, and art is able to tell that, gently placing a warm hand on your inner thigh, the pressure calming you down. you take his other hand in yours, slowly guiding him down to your slit but letting him push a finger in on his own. he looks up at you constantly for validation that what he's doing is right, and feels good to you, his eyes widening when you clench around his finger, his dick twitching against the bed when he imagines how nice you'll feel against him. finally relaxing, you let art do his thing, blissfully rocking your hips against his hand. you're thankful that you're able to do most of the work, letting art just experience things for the first time.

[mellosdrawings]

Absolutely love your art!

Has Jamil changed at all since getting with Vil and Leona? Less stressed? Sleep easier? Is he still his usual wound up self?

Thank you <3

Jamil definitely changed in some ways.

For once, he's a bit calmer. While he does still stress over minor things and acts like an overbearing mom, he has an easier time calming down afterwards. Between Leona's regular chill attitude and Vil's meditations and breath work, he's learned a few relaxation techniques that help with his blood pressure.

I wouldn't say he sleeps easier, but he sure sleeps more. Vil is very stringent about proper sleep schedules and Leona is the King of Naps, so Jamil's own sleep schedule has improved and he takes more naps whenever possible (ie whenever he gets kidnapped by Leona). Sometimes he still lays awake all night because he overthinks things, but just having one of them cuddle him stops him from getting up to do something, so he still manages to rest a bit.

He's also a lot more honest. Vil and Leona are some of the rare people who can see right through his lies (alongside Azul and probably Rook) . Vil greatly values honesty, if his relationship with Rook is any telling, and Leona also has little patience for Jamil's false smiles. So they would both nudge Jamil to be more honest and stop lying to them, even about minor things. There's certainly a "please communicate properly" vibe among the three of them, between Leona being more acts than words, Jamil's lies, and Vil keeping his struggles to himself. They're all working very hard on this.

Jamil also allows himself to be more hyper competent around Vil and Leona, in ways that he still doesn't allow himself to be around Kalim. And, on the opposite side, he also allows himself to be more vulnerable. Leona has already shown he can (and would) protect him if needs arise, and Vil isn't one to judge other for their vulnerabilities, so Jamil would let himself be softer. Unsure. Sometimes even weak.

Generally speaking, he would simply mask less. Don't misunderstand though. Despite being generally calmer, he still gets very hyper when riled up or anxious. He's also still a little shit (and Vil and Leona love him for it, despite making it difficult for them too).

[moonsaver]

Context before getting into the actual idea: I recently saw some fanart based on concept art for Dr Ratio where he has slightly longer, messier hair and the fanart interpreted this as him having a bit of a rebellious phase when he was younger.

So now I’m just thinking about Reader going to school with him when he was going through this phase. He had a bit of a crush on her but didn’t know how to express it so he just messed with her constantly.

And now they meet again when he’s changed and he hasn’t gotten over her she’s just getting massive amounts of whiplash from how wildly different he is. Could be yandere 👀

Anon. I am GRIPPINT YOU BY THE SHOULDERS. Listen. Unfortunately i doubt i did this justice but i tried my best PLEASE okay

A bit long, under the cut!

Its not exactly easy to imagine Dr. Ratio of all people being rebellious, but that just makes it even more possibly believeable in my opinion. I am deeply convinced he has had his crazy scientist, jerkward asshole phase at least once and was soo deeply embarassed the moment he left it.

But listen. His professors all probably HATED him because he would probably constantly correct them, be so disgustingly overeducated to the point they'd send him to the library or tell him to get lost just so he wouldn't disrupt class. He's the infamous asshole who sits wherever he wants, and hoardes an entire table to himself if he's at the library or at the cafeteria. Any student who needs a pen or eraser or a pencil knows he's NOT the one to ask, even if it was in the middle of an exam worth half their grade and he was the only person beside them. He does literally anything he wants and no one can stop him except probably by force, and if they do, something worse ends up happening to them instead.

Anyways, here comes in reader. Probably already knows his sour reputation. Regardless, maybe you're the poor soul who's his seatmate. If the crush is already established, he's constantly bothering you. Asking for stationaries like the entirety of his desk isn't covered by it already (he likes the miniscule interaction), taking your notebooks without your knowledge and sometimes even scribbling inside of them (its his horrid handwriting, he's just trying to help you with detailed notes), he comments on how "lame" your outfit is, asking about your social life, rolling his eyes when your response isn't exactly.. pleasing (he's actually a bit content with it. Perhaps you'll hang out with him more, instead?). You note the smell of alcohol trailing him a bit everytime you interact with him.

It's not easy for him, especially when you can't seem to keep up and look so queasy around him. Aeons, his heart is so twisted up and squeezed everytime he seems to be getting more distant from you, but he just has no idea how to convey his feelings. Not when he didn't even account for the fact he'll have a crush on anyone in the first place.

Anyways, timeskip!

You're probably a researcher of some sort, maybe not so well known. Let's just say for the sake of simplicity you're a researcher on Herta's space station. It's not too soon before he runs into you, probably after the whole mess at the station's been "cleaned up" regarding the curio and whatever. Maybe he doesn't leave right after that interaction with Screwellum, and he decides to, by his curiosity, take a look around once again before he leaves (certainly not because he's heard a familiar name thrown around a few times).

And there you are. In your little research-getup, professional vernacular, hair all neat. He's probably right behind you in an instant, and you turn around to look as the colleague you were talking to suddenly starts stuttering and becoming squeamish while looking behind you. There he is, in all his (cruel?) Glory. The infamous asshole who was your classmate.

But.. it's surprising how much more mellow he's become (at least towards you?). His hair are neatly tamed, his build is taller and more muscular than it was back then, but his attire is also quite tame (if not a little.. fancy?), compared to his brash taste back then. His eyes still seem to hold contempt, but more distantly so.

Veritas figures your mouth is agape and you're speechless considering the change in his countenance as of recent. He's also not yet come to terms with the fact that his heart still twists and squeezes whenever he sees that unsure look on your face. If you were made of clay, and if he could, he'd meld the most beautiful smile on your face with his craftful fingers. Alas, he resorts to tamer methods. At least he supposes he's a wiser man, now. He's more aware of different courting methods.

He asks about your station, your current life, family, friends, etc .. in a seemingly disinterested tone. There's a bit of resignation but hidden constrain in his voice, everytime you mention a "close friend" of yours or a colleague you worked with "closely". But he hasn't been berating you the way he would have back then. His fingers slightly constantly strain, folded behind his back, trying desperately not to taper towards you – there's stray strands of hair on your face. Your headpiece is off centre. Your pen is slanting in your pocket. Your shoulders are too tense. Your eyebrows are furrowed. your eyes look tired. Have your lips always been chapped? They were fine back then.. hold on.

While you stutter out useless formalities and pleasantries, Veritas' eyes scan you over. Time has weathered you well, in his opinion. The thin line of his pressed lips dont quite indicate that. He sighs almost grimly, shutting you up in an instant. He offers you to accompany him and possibly consider joining the Intelligentsia Guild (is it not worth a shot trying? It may be foolish, but he's a tad too desperate when it comes to you). You timidly mumble out a refusal, the words barely leaving your mouth. He nods.

Catching up makes his heart squeeze and rush all over the place. Topics he once tried to teach you back then (by.. VERY unsuccessful methods,) seem to be elementary knowledge to you now. You work more efficiently, hold yourself in a better, more confident way, and you seem to be smoothsailing in your life. Granted, it's technically the bare minimum, but its been so long since he talked to you. The chirp in your voice, the chuckle you let out every now and then despite your nervousness around him, has his heart in his throat. He can't bring himself to try and even "set you straight" by giving you (unwarranted) advice or piddling your achievements, there's a soft smile he's duly hiding behind his scorning face.

He offers you again, if you are unsure about joining the Guild, and discreetly mentions it being filled with imbeciles regardless when you deny again, pulling another string of laughter out of you. Hmph, you weren't so joyful when he made those statements back in high school.

Granted,you're obviously still not quite sure about Veritas' new look. He's still got his infamous reputation as an extremely strict teacher, the oddball with an alabastor head and having worked with the IPC, it's not a pleasant image per se, but it's heaps better than his reputation back at school. You politely make a joke about it, and he groans, earning another cautious, light chuckle from you. He has become different. You prattle on about the length of his hair, his refinement of speech, the difference in how he holds himself now.. it does leave him melting a tad bit inside. You noticed it? Hm. Clever little thing.

Of course, goodbyes are seldom sweet. He does manage to pry out your contact information once again, before. If you don't budge,he finds another way regardless. Your network of colleagues aren't exactly as strong as you might have thought. He remembers this information carefully.

Like the old days, maybe he'll manage to keep slipping notes into your reports and files. Perhaps pull a few strings back in the old days to keep you in his class, he'll slowly knot and twist a few strings to bring and budge you over to his little workplace. Sooner or later, you'll end up in his home. He's sure of it.

And just like the old days, his little seatmate is by his side once again. Care to put up with him for a bit longer? Probably forever, in this case.

[awakenedevildays]

「The, not so, other woman」 Art Donaldson x F!reader

TW: smut! (badly written, but still smut), angst, cheating (not on reader).

Infos: Art and the reader are 26 yo, Art and Tashi's daughter doesn't exist here.

━━━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━━

"Promise you'll stay here tonight" he says , his thrusts slow and deep in you, his body tremble as his movements are too slow for him too "tell me you'll stay here with me" he stills inside of you.

"Art, please move" you beg under him as one of his hands push your hips down to stop you from moving up, he hisses, his eyes closing while he struggles to wait for your answer. 

He moans quietly and he leans down to kiss you deeply, but just as you are about to return the kiss he pulls away as a way to show he's not giving you any stimulation till you say what he wants to hear "tell me you'll stay with me" he whispers before planting soft needy kisses over your jaw. 

"I will, just- please" you moan and he smiles against your jaw. 

He starts to move at a slow pace, kissing over your face and down your neck as you finally get that friction back "god you're so needy" he whispers lovingly, giving you exactly what you need: he is so deep inside of you that it's hard for you to breath "I'm going to cum" you moan as your body trembles under him.

"Cum for me, come on baby" he nibbles your ear after saying it and he feels close too, his hand reaches your clit to stimulate it with his fingers in circular motions "god, I love you so much, you were made for me" he moans as you clench around him.  

You cum repeating his name like a mantra and he follows shortly after inside of your walls, his cock hits your cervix and your eyes fly to the back of your head when he stills there. 

"oh god" he moans and lays down on top of you, his body weight presses against your body pleasantly as he peppers several kisses everywhere he can reach. 

 You rest like that until he feels like his limbs can move again and and his breathing returns to normal, "you're so pretty" he says and you smile softly at him, your eyes almost totally closed peers at him and his smile widens "I'll be right back" he pulls out his softening members and you both hiss at the stimulation. He comes back from the bathroom seconds later, a towel in his hand to clean the both of you. 

After wiping the sensitive skin between your legs he throws the towel on the floor and takes your panties from the end of the bed to slide them on your legs until it rests against your hips, he wears his boxer too and joins you back on the bed.

His arms wraps around you, your back meets his chest and you feel so safe and comfortable against him. He presses soft kisses to each of your shoulders and up to your neck "I love you so much" he whispers almost shyly.

Your smile is bitter but you answer anyway, your answer genuine but full of sadness "I love you too" you say, your voice weak cause of the tears that threatens to escape and Art can feel your demeanor change. He holds you tighter in his arms but doesn't say anything, he knows there isn't something he can say to make you happy at the moment. 

"It's okay" he whispers and you hold onto his arms, your eyes burns from impending tears and he rubs your arm gently "it's going to be okay" he mumbles, more to convince himself than you, you don't say anything as you turn around in his arms so that your head rests on his chest: his hand around you continues to gently rub your shoulders after pulling the sheets over your naked bodies, he plants several soft kisses to your head, forehead, cheeks, nose, chin, anywhere he can reach without having to move too much.

He can feel you growing sadder and sadder and it hurts, but his arms stay wrapped around you anyway and he presses his body against yours as much as he can. 

"You should rest, we'll talk in the morning, does that sound good?" he comforts you, he keeps a steady but slow rhythm as he rubs your back. 

"mhm" you nod your head slightly, not having the energy to speak and his other hand goes through your hair softly until you finally calm down, until your breath evens out and you fall asleep a few minutes later together. 

The clock signs 4 AM when Art wakes up after hearing rustlings around the room and he sighs as his arms reaches to the other side of the bed to pull you to him only to meet the empty messy sheets still warm. He sits straight and his eyes bolts to the other side of the room, you're up, and you're dressing hurriedly in the dark.

His heart sinks in his chest and he watches for a moment as you put on your bra, you don't look at him as you move and he turns on the lamp on the nightstand.

He feels his chest tightening and he can barely find the courage to speak "you're leaving?", his voice small and breaking slightly already "yes I am" you answer coldly. 

"hey, come here..." he says as he sits on the edge of the bed, his elbows rest on his thighs and his hands run through his hair, you can tell from his tone that he's frustrated and you look at him, watching him for a moment as his hair messily covers his eyes, he bows his head, his body language is defeated and you just want to comfort him, tell him everything will be okay, but you know better than to give him false hope. 

"I can't do this anymore" you avoid his gaze as your eyes fills with tears again and Art's heart breaks in his chest 'why do I always have to make her cry?' he thinks as he stands up, but every step he takes forward you take one back. 

He blinks and freezes for a moment, his head snapping back up as his gaze meet your own—shock, confusion and worry all flashed through his eyes in that moment: he knows that this affair is wrong, that you deserve better than this half relationship he has given you for the past year, but seeing you giving up on this... on him, is shattering his heart. 

"w-what do you mean?" he asks even if he already knows the answer.

"I mean that this won't happen ever again" you say while you take your shirt from the ground.  

His heart sinks into the pit of his stomach and his breath catches in his throat, a look of almost disbelief cross his face. He feels cold all of a sudden as if a bucket of ice water has been poured over his head. 

He blinks and his mouth falls open for a moment as if to argue but he can't find the words to say "no, no. no, no—" he shakes his head and takes steps closer towards you "please don't leave". 

This sounds like a bad joke, he's wanted you for years, he yearned you like nothing else before and when you finally look in his direction, he finds out he is incapable of keeping you close to him ... fuck, he wants to cry. 

He is slowly losing you and he doesn't even know what to say to make you stay.

"Why don't you get it Art!? I want to get married! I want a husband that loves me and only me and I want a child, maybe even two... I want to be the first choice of someone, I want someone that can love me freely and that is proud of saying I am his wife, I don't deserve this" your hands gesture around the room "I don't deserve to be fucked in a hotel room only to find myself alone the morning after, knowing that you're already back with Tashi, going on with your life while I find myself in the same exact point I was a year ago" you cry out, tears now staining your cheeks. 

Art goes silent and he just stands there as he takes in everything you're saying. He blinks rapidly and his gaze flutters around as he tries to comprehend and process everything. His mind is spinning and his heart feels like it's breaking as he looks at you crying. He tries to open his mouth to speak a few times but nothing comes out, he has no idea what to say. Just imagining you with another man takes his breath away. 

"I'm not your first choice Art, and I deserve better" you sob as your arms wrap around yourself. 

Art watches you cry in front of him. He hates it, he hates this, he hates himself. Still, he walks until he is in front of you and his hands take your face softly "you're my.." he pauses and glances towards the wedding ring on his finger that shines in the light, before he shakes his head and looks back at you "you're my first choice..". 

You scoff and take his hands off your face "no I'm not Art, and I'll never be" you look around for your skirt.

"No." he mumbles and his hands grabs your hips, his eyes are filled with desperate tears and his mind is trying to find a way to make you stay "it's true! I'll divorce Tashi..! I'll divorce her..! Just stay with me, please.." he begs. 

You snort "yeah, right" you shake your head but when you try to move his hands tightens.

His jaw clenches at the snort and the words, his gaze hardening as he looks at you- you've never been so stubborn before, you never looked at him with such distain in your eyes before "why don't you believe me... you know I'd do it for you.." he whispers almost desperately, his gaze softening again in pure vulnerability as tears began to slip down his cheeks.

"'cause you never gave me a reason to trust you, Art! we've been doing this for a whole year and nothing changed, you expect me to trust you now only because I'm finally leaving?" your voice raises.

"That's not true..!" he argues back instantly, hurt flashing through his teary gaze despite the fact that you have a point, not much has changed this year. He didn't want this life to be this way, to be caught in a loveless marriage, with his wife fucking his best friend and with so much wrong happening in his personal life despite the fame he had gained due to his career. He just wants to make you happy, he wants to be happy with you. 

He sighs and takes a moment to calm down, his shoulders slump slightly as he lets go of your hips. "You think I wanted this?" he says quietly "I want to be with you, I don't want Tashi, I don't love her anymore, I feel nothing for her... please, give me a chance to make it right, I can be that man for you, I can be anything you want" he kneels in front of you "I'll divorce her and I'll find a new coach, she won't be in our lives anymore and we'll be happy" his hands wrap around your waist, his head resting on you hip. 

You look at him for a long moment, taking in the way he gazes at you as he rests against your hip, his hands tight around your waist as he waits for a response—the words he spoke bringing a sharp tinge of hope to you that you didn't allow yourself to feel until now.

You raise your hand to slowly comb it in his hair and he sighs at your touch, his eyes closing.

"You have to promise me Art, promise me you'll be what I need" 

He opens his eyes to look at you, while nodding furiously, his words coming out strong and desperate but also true "...I promise. I'll be everything you need..I'll do anything you need me to do." he gently leans into your touch and sighs in contentment when he feels your fingers rake through his hair, he looks up at you with pleading eyes and his hands rubs up and down your sides, "I'll do anything for you," he whispers.

You can see the sincerity in his gaze as he speaks, his words sincere and desperate. He's ready to give up everything he achieved if it means that he can be the man you need, the man that you want.

"Are you sure it's me that you want? You won't go back to tashi, will you?" he shakes his head quickly in response to your question, his grip on you tightens and tears continue to fall down his cheeks. He presses his lips to your stomach, still looking up at you when he pulls back to respond "it's you..I want you. I've only ever wanted you... you're it for me". 

His whisper comes out quiet again, hushed and vulnerable just like your entire relationship had always been.

He blinks and watches as his hands are pulled from your waist, a momentary feeling of fear rises in his chest and makes his breath stop before you catch his hands to pull him up to his feet, causing a small but relieved sigh to slip past his lips, his gaze meeting yours as he slowly returns the smile.

"I'm scared you'll regret it Art, I don't want you to throw your life away for me" your hands lay against his chest but his lips interrupts your thoughts immediately when they kiss away the tears on your cheeks. 

"This is anything but throwing my life away.." he laughs. 

He presses another kiss to your lips, softly, before he pulls back to look at you. 

"I'm just finally making the right choice" he whispers, his hands move down to cup your chin in his fingers: in your eyes there is a love Art never saw in Tashi's, is this what being loved feels like? he never felt so loved, so wanted in all the three years of marriage with Tashi. 

"I love you, I'll make you the happiest you can be" he promises and hugs you close to him, your eyes close and you finally feel like things will really change.

"I can't wait" you say, your smile finally sincere.

And so is his, eyes filled with hope and excitement. His mind is racing a million miles per hour as the gears turn to formulate a plan to make this happen. He presses a sweet kiss to your lips and he smiles against your mouth as he pulls back "I'll fix this, we'll make this work" and you finally believe him. 

━━━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━━

First time writing smut I'm sorry it's really bad lol.

(do not copy or translate).

[inkskinned]

i keep thinking about hobbies and how i often spill over myself to pick up new ones. i have adhd, i end up trying something for like a month and then just getting far enough in it that i move on, satisfied.

and that should be fine; but it's never fine.

i am a pretty decent artist; but i can't just make art for my dnd campaign, i should be selling dnd maps and character designs and scene setting pieces. i can't just make my friends matching earrings, i need to get an etsy and ship them internationally and take bulk orders. i make pretty good props and decorations and use them to throw my friends parties - but i should be running a party planning business and start taking paying clients and networking and putting my skills to actual use.

for some reason, i never figured out the specifics of pottery. it was a fun class and i enjoyed myself - and still, i'm embarrassed, years later, that i put in all that useless effort. everything i make has to be stunning. stellar. i should have applied myself more. maybe i'm too lazy. maybe i'm broken and selfish and needy. actually creative people would have kept going; they would be bettering themselves at every possible opportunity.

we find ourselves in this trap, even accidentally: we need to commodify our time, because it is a commodity. if we spend our efforts and our time not earning, isn't that the same thing as burning free money? and god forbid you ever take up a hobby that ends up being more expensive than you thought. you sit in your car and you look at the receipt and in your head you hear a conversation that isn't even happening - your mom or your friend or your partner all saying oh great. not this shit again. it's always something with you, and it never actually means anything.

i have realized this horrible thing, recently - i'll get excited to start a project, pick up a new hobby. and then i just... stop myself. i start thinking about the amount of time it will take, and how it'll look in my monthly budget. what if i can't even produce a good enough final product. sure, it's exciting to think about how i could make my friend her own custom dice. but i'm just polluting the earth if i don't get it right. better not bother. better not try.

restless, i get caught in the negative space. the feeling that oh god, i want to create. and that horrible sense - yeah, but i don't have the time to just put to waste.

[facefullofsadness]

pussy-drunk!purinz relieve your stress

roommate!purinz x reader, university!au

smut, 1.4k wc

for the lovely @strawbsj whose bday is todayyy!!! sorry if it's not that great jwannie bestie, it's VERY MUCH RUSHED n barely proofread (might fix later on), but I wanted to give u something today and what's better than purinz eating u out as a gift! (and I'm so sorry it's late ajhfsjgd)

your finals are coming up and wow, is it stressful. I mean it's evident in the distressed faces of your fellow classmates roaming the campus, rushing to the local cafes and library to squeeze in every single bit of study time they can so they don't fail. and you've been no different, hiding away in your room, slaving away at ur notebook with your head in your textbooks and a laptop in front of you.

your roommates yunjin and chaewon are completely chill honestly, they're already done with their projects they need to turn in and have no written exams, having chosen arts majors. they pity you, feeling bad sitting on the living room couch, staring at your closed door, wondering if you're even alive since they can barely hear any noise coming from your room.

having chosen a more studious major than your roommates always meant you were working hard at all times while they were js kinda there? they would always try to help you by making u food, getting you water, doing the chores for you, checking up on you, being sweet and all that. but after hours, 12 to be exact, of you studying, they thought that was enough, you desperately needed A FUCKING BREAK.

you were so zoned in on your work that u didn't hear the door creak open. ur study playlist played softly in the background as u jump, feeling hands land on ur bare shoulders. you blink away from your notes and look up at the concerned looking chaewon looking down at you.

"y/n-ie, that's enough..." her voice was almost a whisper, laced with worry.

"seriously, you've been at this for the entire day, take a break, eat properly, SLEEP?" yunjin reiterates behind her, form slowly coming into view.

you sigh out, leaning back against chaewon's relaxing massage on your shoulders. u didn't realize how exhausted you were until you stopped what u were doing, legs restless, eyes twitching, fingers sore, back hurting.

"I'm just really stressed and worried about this guys," you reply back.

"we know, but killing yourself over this isn't gonna help cutie," the taller girl shifts to move in front of you, closing your laptop and books, holding your worn out hands with her own.

"I don't know how to NOT overwork myself, you guys know that..."

the two girls exchange a look before looking back down at you.

"yeah, so let us help you," chaewon leans into your ear and sighs against it.

you feel a chill run down your spine and suddenly your hands turn clammy in yunjin's hold, the girl in front of you looking down at you with sweet but dark eyes.

"w-what?" you nervously ask.

"shhhh, let us do the work baby," chaewon's lips ghost the skin on your neck before placing deep wet kisses on them.

you immediately whimper at the sensation, throwing your head back against her shoulder. you grip yunjin's hands tighter, eyes closing at how good the short haired girl's mouth felt on you. u didn't even continue to question what was happening anymore, everything feeling too good to care and the exhaustion hitting you too hard to resist.

you hear rustling from in front of you amidst the wet noises next to your ear, feeling your bottoms fall to the ground and legs shift apart. u widen your eyes at the girl between your legs, placing sweet kisses against your thighs.

"jen-" you begin before she interrupts you.

"don't try to stop it, just relax," yunjin mumbles against your skin before dragging her tongue across your already leaking slit.

"fuckkkkkk," you moan out, the sensations tingling against your body intensely.

you lace both your hands into their hair separately, holding chaewon's head against your neck and yunjin's head against your pussy. their mouths moved so deliciously against your body, making your back arch in your shitty uncomfy dorm room chair.

you feel yunjin's strong hands grip your thighs apart firmly, making sure u couldn't close them, forcing you to take all of her pleasure. chaewon's hands occupied themselves as well, slipping up your tight-fitting tank top, thumbs circling your hardened nipples.

"you like that, sweet thing? does yunnie's tongue feel good lapping at your pussy? like how I just pincchhhh your little nips?" she emphasizes her words as her actions obeyed her command.

"chaewonnie ahh~!" you mewl, thrashing your head around at the stimulation.

yunjin's tongue was so deep inside of you, moving extremely expertly against your clenching walls, her nose rubbing your clit rhythmically. chaewon's mouth kept leaving sloppy kisses all over your neck, shoulders, jaw, and chest, even leaning over to reach it and leave marks. her fingers were so aggressive, never letting your nipples take a break.

it felt so fucking good. your mind was completely clouded with lust as the two girls fucked you for their own pleasure, addicted to the way your body reacted to each and every one of their touches. your grips on them tightened as every thrust of yunjin's tongue hit that delicious spot within you, chaewon's panting against your ear heightening your already overwhelming pleasure.

with the deep groan of yunjin's mouth against your cunt, the vibrations sent you into a blinding orgasm, a series of high pitched whines and whimpers leaking from your lips, back arching off the chair completely. your moans filled the girls' ears, filling them with more lust and desire than ever.

your body collapsed against the chair again as you released deep breaths through the aftermath of your climax. suddenly, you're being pulled up and thrown gently against your plush mattress, feeling your legs forced open once again.

you panic and pry your eyes wide open, looking down at chaewon now between your trembling thighs. "chae, wait wait- fuck!"

she ignores your cries as her tongue laps at the cum you released from your last orgasm, sucking and slurping your sensitive pussy lips. whimpers leak from you as her mouth forces her way around your cunt. you try pushing her head away from your center but your efforts fail as yunjin comes behind you, resting your body against her chest and effectively holding your hands behind your back.

"nuh-uh babe, don't even think about stopping this. just relax..." she breathes out against your ear before turning to capture your mouth with her own.

she kisses you breathlessly, taking the oxygen from your lungs. your whines are completely drowned out by the tongue being shoved down your throat, choking on yunjin's and your own combined spit, the sounds of chaewon's slurping under you making your eyes roll back.

your abused clit throbs and hole clenches around chaewon's greedy tongue, unable to thrash really at all due to the two girls forcing your body to move as they want. the pleasure was way too much, your body couldn't stop jerking at every single swipe of the girls' tongues against you. it almost hurt, how much arousal brewed in your stomach, just anticipating exploding.

yunjin finally releases your mouth and you immediately let out heaving breaths against her lips, tears welling up in your eyes at the sensations crawling across your body.

"fuck fuck fuck fuck..." you chant against yunjin, her holding you against her chest, caressing your skin.

"shhhh, you're okay doll," she coos.

"I... can't, no more," you start sobbing.

"don't resist, just feel..." yunjin kisses across your face.

"cumming, cumming!" you announce with an incomplete cry, ur voice cracking as you yelp helplessly, legs and body shaking uncontrollably.

chaewon doesn't stop her eating, continuing to devour you between your legs. you scream in sobs at her mercilessness, unable to handle anymore, your sensitive cunt red and worn out.

"okay chaewonnie, that's enough," yunjin sighs, grabbing the short-haired girl by her bob and pulling her back, away from your pussy.

your silent sobs don't wipe the lust-filled stare chaewon has in her eyes. you feel small against yunjin's grasp and chaewon's warm hands on your inner thighs.

"we're not fucking done, not even close..." chaewon heaves.

yunjin chuckles sinisterly in your ear, "mm-mm, no we're not."

you tremble and stiffen, the taller girl behind you swiping her long digits across your sloppy slit, gathering slick and dragging her tongue along it.

"y/n's way too fucking sweet and delicious to stop."