#ask box thing

[shut-the-burrow-door-pls]

thoughts on the new woolly mice scientists have bred.. 🥺🥺

stupid woolly skaven 😭

Yes it’s very stupid

[thatcharmingjerk]

Sam or dean Winchester

Ohohoho I see you haven't been following for ten years! Or maybe you have and wanna know if I have changed my mind, anyways Sam 🙏💕

[sonadowcentral]

why doesn’t shadow like his ears touched?

He's very sensitive

don't you worry about that tho

[livecrow]

Imagine you want to try waxing your pussy, but it turns out to be quite the challenge to actually see what the hell you're doing.

Naturally you ask your boyfriend for help.

Simon won't hear any of it, growls that he's fond of your scruff. "Like 'er jus' the way she is." Her being your snatch.

You pout and try to coax him.

No dice.

You don't give up that easily, obviously. Besides, if you have to, you'll just do it yourself even if it ends up a smidge patchy.

So there you are, full winnie the poohing it on the living room couch, trying to contort yourself this way and that, armed with the waxing strips and a hand mirror. Just trying to get the right angle. The whole spectacle right in front of an unamused Simon.

You spread your knees wide, as wide as you can, to prop up your pussy. Mash your tummy and thighs out of the way, spread your lips out, grunting and whining all the way with exertion while you fumble with the wrapper. You're almost ready to just say "fuck it" and go in completely blind—

You should have been more suspicious when Simon gives in, when he marches over and grunts a short "fine". When manhandles you into an even more uncomfortable and exposed position he finds more suitable.

After the first couple of strips your ready to throw up your white flag and forget about the whole thing. When you tell him as much and try to wriggle out from under him—

Simon just laughs meanly.

"You wanted it, now we're gonna see it through, aren't we?"

Simon'd enjoy your squeals and teary eyes. Every jolt of your body trying to escape the pain your subjecting it to.

"Serves you right for tryin' to deface my sweet'eart."

For how much it hurts, you don't have the awareness to realize he'd actually doing it all somewhat carefully. Each strip layed in the right direction, smoothed down with enough pressure, ripped off in one quick motion. Hell, he even rubs the skin to soothe the sting while he peels the next strip.

...Rubs your pussy. Soothing circles into your heated, plump mons and outer lips that you could almost read as apologetic. He wasn't feeling hardly any sympathy for you, though. No, it was for her.

On the next strip your startled when his thumb actually grazes your clit, while the rest of his palm pulls the skin taught.

You wondered if it was just a slip, but alas. Nothing Simon does is ever an accident.

The traitor peeked out from the hood in interest. Every other strip after that has him stroking your pearl mercilessly, like his own worry stone.

The hot ripping pain melds with pleasure, it isn't long at all before your keening and dripping under his ministrations. It was inevitable.

Simon sounded so put out. Sighing, tisking that you're, "Sloppy fuckin' wet. Strip isn't gonna stick now, is it?" as if you're an idiot, trying to be difficult purpose.

As he chastises you, he crams two thick fingers in your hole, like he's trying to stem a bleeding wound. It punches the air out of your lungs. He tells you you're gonna ruin it, that they'll have to start all over if you keep this up.

He's about as done as he's gonna be, considering your drippy cunt. "Look at 'er. Poor thing's cryin', isn't she?" He coos to your crotch.

Simon turns back to you but his tone isn't sweet, he barks at you to stop squirmin', unless you want him to you fuck you while your still oll raw and stingin'. Since that's clearly what you want now.

He's always givin' you want you want, huh? You're spoiled rotten.

[slavhew]

look at this idiot not aware that his body is warm and his touch comforting everyone point and laugh

[thedemonofcat]

What if Vesemir accepted Jaskier as a son-in-law in his head, only for Geralt to awkwardly explain that they’re not together.

Vesemir, who has actually grown to genuinely like the bard, “Oh… Eskel, would you be interested in the bard?”

Eskel, looking on the receiving end of a death glare from Geralt, “That’s—I’m not really looking to die—ate. To date.”

————

Geralt bursts into Jaskier’s room and is like, “YOU HAVE TO MARRY ME AND NOT MY BROTHERS”

Meanwhile, Jaskier’s baffled because he didn’t know Geralt was on the table let alone his brothers.

“You want me to marry you?” Jaskier asked, his heart pounding. He had loved Geralt for a long time, but this proposal was unexpected.

“If you don’t, one of my brothers will try to claim you,” Geralt replied. “And you’re my bard, not theirs.”

Jaskier leaned in, a teasing smile on his lips. “Alright, I’ll consider it. But only if you can tell me my name.”

Geralt remained silent for a moment, and Jaskier sighed, pulling back. “Geralt, I care about you, but you don’t really know me. I won’t marry you just to help you win some strange bet with your brothers.”

As Jaskier began to leave, Geralt gently grabbed his arm. “Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove,” he said softly. “You were named after your grandfather, who passed away when you were a baby. Your sister used to call you a weed, and that’s why you started calling yourself Jaskier. You’re from Lettenhove, a coastal town in Bremervoord. Your accent slips sometimes, especially when you’re drunk.”

Jaskier stared, wide-eyed, as Geralt continued. “You can play over a hundred instruments, but you prefer the lute because it’s easy to carry. Your favorite food is strawberries, and you hate peas in your stew. Your entire family has blonde hair, but you have brown.”

Geralt reached for Jaskier’s hands, his voice tender. “I do know you, Jaskier. And when I ask you to marry me, it’s because I love you.”

[saetiate]

"sorry to annoy the dash with another selfship thing" you should absolutely be posting more of your selfship things. the more you post, the more pointed the posts and asks and writings and moodboards can be made for you. the more you post about your selfship, the easier it is to interact with

[starmocha]

I WANTED THESE CAPS POSTED TO LOOK AT DURING WORK TODAY LEAVE ME ALONE BBBSSSSSSSS JDKSKSIDIRJD

[kyri45]

Okay but I'm pretty sure Wukong's arms are thicker than Macaque's <i>legs</i> and that drives me utterly wild. Also his back alone is wider than Macaque's shoulders and all I can think when I see that is "damn Macaque, I get it."

Me as I was drawing Macaque: I gotta make it the most twink possible/silly

[shut-the-burrow-door-pls]

Heliinx wants to know if two-head is single-available 👀

The twin cannot wait for this-this

[thatcharmingjerk]

Legolas or aragorn

Oh this was absolutely the easiest of all the asks, Aragon of course..!

As much I'd like elf pussy and all the wisdom and knowledge and so on but at the end of the day elves would be too prissy for me. I do wanna get nasty!

Send me two characters who I'd rather date?

[poke-poke-poke]

omg goomy miku...................

(i asked @mikufigureoftheday about miku figures with a goomy-esc colour palette a while back-- one of the figures picked was a figure i actually own! )

sketch + wip lol

[sonadowcentral]

If this ain't them then idk what is. The visibly suffering and absolutely haunted gives the whole Shadow/Amy backstory though 😭 and we all know Sonic represses everything lets be real.

You're onto something here...

[gwifirusu]

Could you please spare a cute sketch of Optimus giving big dad energy? That man… that man does things to me.

i bestow optimus with my highest badge of honour... diagnosed with Dad

[itsnixderlol]

P 3 (Not the most beatiful doodles, but atleast they exist.)

Part 2. Part 0

[thedemonofcat]

Shapeshifter Jaskier seeing one of his colleagues start to grey and being like, "Right, aging."

He then spends the winter subtly incorporating signs of aging into his appearance. He looks rather dashing if he says so himself.

But, when he and Geralt meet up in Spring, the witcher becomes *devastated* at the sight of his "aging" bard.

Geralt brushed Jaskier’s hair back with a careful touch. “You’ve got another grey,” he murmured, his voice laced with something close to regret.

“I know. Soon, I’ll match you,” Jaskier said lightly. “I’d call myself the White Bard, but it doesn’t have quite the same ring as the White Wolf.”

Geralt huffed. “Dove,” he said after a pause. “That’s what we’ll call you when your hair turns completely white.”

Jaskier’s smile was soft. “I like it.”

Geralt didn’t say what was truly on his mind—that he didn’t like Jaskier’s hair greying, didn’t like this reminder that time would eventually take him away.

Jaskier exhaled, as if reading his silence. “I don’t like it either,” he admitted. “But if I want to keep up the illusion of being human, I have to age.” He tilted his head, eyes twinkling. “Give me another fifty years, and I can always return to being young again.”

Geralt just stared, his thoughts scattering like dry leaves in the wind.