#but it is something

[hypnoneghoul]

@p1nkcanoe posted this about using a water ghoul as a resident lube source and I have a lot of thoughts about this... hope u dont mind the hijack p1nk

cw for objectification

okay so imagine dew and swiss plotting and stuff and teasing rain about how he could just be a lube dispenser, right? dew's still water ghoul level wet but not as wet as rain and everyone knows rain has a thing for objectification and free use vibes, so they discuss a scenario of sorts that they'd possibly be into

fast forward a few months (just enough so that rain can forget about their talk) and swiss and dew get it moving. of course they don't need lube with dew, but whatever, its an act for the fun of it. so anyway, they get eachother all hot and bothered and disheveled and just before they actually do anything they go to rain

he's pleased to see them and very happy to be invited into their fun time. they get him wet by touching him all around, get him needy and desperate and everything. but when the prolonged foreplay is finally about to become something concrete, swiss just scoops up some of rain's thick slick in his palm and they just...leave

swiss and dew go and use their lube on their own, leaving rain all desperate on his own. i think he gets himself off but its far from satisfying. swiss and dew come back later to get him off properly and then give him all the cuddles to make up for the few hours he spent feeling like nothing more than an object

not that he didn't like it

[parad-ice-lostandfound]

Prompt: "You, whose image the Dark Mirror did beckon forth... If your heart bids it, take the hand of the one reflected in the mirror."

Pairing: Dire Crowley and GN!Prefect/ Yuu/ MC

Genre: Yandere (platonic)

TW: Yandere Dire Crowley, crow man's delusional and literally does not give two fucks, just generally creepy vibes all around.

AN: I am so, so, so sorry for what you are about to read now lol. If you get too confused in the middle, don't worry, I was just as confused writing this but my brain just wouldn't rest until I finished and posted this so here we are. The basic summary of this is that Yuu or the Prefect is trapped in an endless cycle because Crowley overblotted. You might have to read this twice or thrice to understand the how and why <3

He knows.

From the moment he sees them, he remembers.

He remembers and he watches as they do it again.

And again.

And again.

A puppet, unaware of their being handled by someone else, someone kinder and gentler who just wants to keep them safe and sound.

Even if it means trapping them in an endless cycle.

Even if he is the only one who sees and notices and remembers.

Dire Crowley cuts an imposing figure as he stands in his office, facing an ornate mirror. Not the Dark Mirror, no. This particular mirror has its roots in mystical arcane magic, from the times of Jupiter and when the Titans roamed free. Dire has a faint memory of his mother, the Crowley Matriarch, telling him to be careful with it, to pass it down to his heir as she had, to him.

Crystal clear, it beckons to him to reveal himself. To bare himself, imperfections and flaws laid out in the privacy of his office for it to see.

A selfish, sadistic desire to pick apart every carefully constructed lie, each bejeweled facade to show the utter mess of a man that lies beneath it all arises in him; he finds himself indulging in it more often than he likes to admit.

The masked man removes his mask for what is not the first time, and most certainly would not be the last. Sharp golden eyes look on as black ink, once held within the confines of his mask, drips down his face. Times like these make him wonder and marvel at how he has not met his demise yet.

Fingers adorned with golden claws rise and touch the blot, marveling at how cold it feels as it stains his skin. Lesser mages would have been dead long ago, Crowley knows this. Slight dread rises in him at the thought, knowing that his magic reserves are long finished; he lives on borrowed time and magic.

But then again, who cares? As long as he can have them here, where they belong, safe and sound-

A knock resonates through the room, startling the headmage. He quickly puts the mask on his face again and clears his throat, saying, "Come in."

He watches as they walk in, no doubt to complain about something, or to talk about their financial situation. Perhaps he should increase their allowance? After all, it is their being, their magic that sustains him, and allows him to live through these lifetimes watching over the unassuming, now magicless human he had imprinted on and the students they had endeared themself to.

Crowley watches as they speak, unable to stop his lips from curling up into a smile. He hems and haws and lies through his teeth about not being able to find them a way back.

He sees the light in their eyes dim; it is a small change, one that doesn't stay for long. But the magicless human is precious to him, and so he observes them. He watches them leave his office silently, a stark contrast to when their impatience and indignance have them cursing his name to the skies. No outcome, no outburst of their emotions will be able to move his cold, frozen heart to thaw, however; they belong to Twisted Wonderland, as Twisted Wonderland belongs to them.

In their first lifetime, Crowley recalls with the fondness of a father thinking of his grown-up child, they did possess magic; far different in nature, but magic nonetheless. And powerful too, considering the aura of it radiated from their being even as something stopped them from being able to use it.

Crowley wonders if it was so that he could see how invaluable, how indispensable they were.

How the entirety of Twisted Wonderland was made for them.

He did try, the first time, to find them a way back home. Endless efforts were dedicated to researching the existence of universes and multiverses. Of course, such exhaustive research would take time, time which he saw them spend getting close to the students of Night Raven College and fighting overblots.

Seven overblots, in the span of one year.

A record untouched by any other being, mage or otherwise. A record they kept making each and every lifetime they spent in the loop. A record that became his new normal, so much so that he no longer gives more than a cursory glance to the overblots and their aftermath.

He knows how it all ends, after all.

In their first lifetime, his efforts had bore fruit. His studies revealed a way to connect the Dark Mirror to their plane of existence, through the use of the very mirror that was hidden behind his back. His blood had run cold at the revelation, and he spent the next few weeks? months? looking for alternatives. For other ways to be able to send them back.

Until one day, the Prefect found out.

As they angrily interrogated him for the reasons behind his silence, asking him why he would not send them back even though there was a way, he realized exactly why he was hesitant about sending them back.

Crowley had no spouse, no children. But the mirror, the mirror which had been in his family for generations, needed an heir. One who could gain control over it, rather than have it control them like it did with so many of his ancestors, including his mother.

Surely the one dubbed a beast-tamer could tame such a dangerously powerful magical artefact?

He desperately begged and bargained with them, trying to change their mind. Trying to entice them into staying forever in Twisted Wonderland, as his heir. He offered them gold and silver, riches beyond what one would expect a man like him to have. He offered them the immense honour and prestige that came with being a deity that the entirety of Twisted Wonderland bowed to.

But they... they refused to stay. The only thing that was in their mind was to go home. Why couldn't they get it through their head that Twisted Wonderland was meant to be their home?

The aftermath of that argument... Crowley's memories are hazy at best. He remembers waking up in a pool of blot, the sticky ink covering his hands and the top of his face, dripping constantly. He remembers the mirror glowing as he dragged himself to it like a mindless moth flies to the flame even with the risk of getting burned.

Words had slipped through his mouth like the prayers of the devout at the altar of their deity, the faint and familiar hum of magic accompanied by a slight crackle of dark miasma.

"Ah, my dear esteemed benefactor... My proud, beautiful flower of evil. You are truly the fairest one of all," he had spoken, not knowing exactly what spell he was casting. All he knew, was that he was succumbing to the mirror, the same way his mother had; the same way all of his ancestors had, giving into the madness that such unchecked power and magic could create.

"O magic mirror, thy wisdom I entreat... Reveal unto me the visage I seek.." A vision of them, standing on the other side of the mirror, had Crowley try to reach out to them. His hand grazed the solid glass, before passing through it. He watched as their eyes widened and they took a step back.

"You, whose image the Dark Mirror did beckon forth... If your heart bids it, take the hand of the one reflected in the mirror." A shiver of thrill ran up his spine as they gingerly placed their hand in his after giving his words some thought, even with all the doubt in their eyes. He curled his fingers around their warm hand, and pulled.

He later found out that, during his overblot, he had managed to trap a significant portion of their soul in the mirror that was his family heirloom. The mirror rejected their magic, foreign as it was, and somehow those powers transferred themselves over to Crowley.

The words Crowley spoke, was the way to invoke their soul and bring them back each time they left Twisted Wonderland. A reset button, if you will.

Every time they show the slightest hint of wanting to leave, the slightest glimpse of understanding that he is the one they need to defeat in order to go home, he resets. Memories get wiped and Twisted Wonderland moulds beneath his gold-plated fingertips to what it was before. They say time waits for no man, but then again, Dire Crowley is more monster than human now. And so it bends to his will, but not without taking away his memories as well.

But then he sees them.

And he remembers.

[rainystressed247]

I revisited an old design/AU of mine. I am still very proud of this design but at the same time I understand why i avoided drawing it hahaha

[nothing-to-see-hi]

Two eyes peek out of the void

Hello.

Since this blog is apparently four years old, I’ve decided to make one of these… things

Idk what I’m doing in case that wasn’t obvious

If the boop button is there, the asks are open. They have always been open

I’m open to talking about merpeople, sirens, SGE, people choking on butterflies, and other stuff

We pretend Fall didn’t exist here unless it's convenient

Did I finish it? No. Am I ever going to? Probably not.

The blog is here on Sundays but I’m not

Uhh…

Things that aren’t going to be here

Politics and activism are apparently two different things and neither one of them will be here. Take your signs and shouting somewhere else

Unicorn supremacy

If you think your fancy horse is better than my fish people, you are wrong. And I will debate you about it until you admit that you are wrong. I do not care how long it will take.

Anything against the guidelines

Congratulations you made it through. Good luck. Don’t die.

[kylejsugarman]

i am constantly, CONSTANTLY haunted by the fact that walt was probably planning on killing jesse along with the neo nazi gang with his jerry-rigged machine gun, the whole finale was devoted to him tying up all the loose ends he’d left behind and that included jesse. jesse was still a wild card, still a variable that he needed gone so he could leave nothing behind. completely erasing the legacy he’d ruined his life trying to build, burning it all down with him. but when they paraded jesse in for walt to see, this shackled, scarred shadow of the firecracker he was expecting, walt couldn’t do it. god may have sent his only son to die, but he also brought him back and walt does that as he holds jesse’s body down, resurrecting him after leaving him to suffer. in the end, walt has destroyed his entire legacy except for jesse. jesse is the only piece that walt left behind—his lasting impact on a world that is otherwise devoid of him. created and destroyed and then resurrected, jesse is the only remnant of walt—the entire, true walt—to continue walking the earth. his entire legacy.

[seedofjoseph]

"You weren't at the sermon," you are told for the tenth time since you entered the mess hall. But, this time, it wasn't one of your siblings.

"I was back here, in the kitchens," you excuse yourself one last time. "Father."

Joseph Seed doesn't ever blink, or maybe you miss it every time that he did, but he follows the soapy dish water running down the length of your exposed skin. You were handling a big pot when he startled you and it slipped out of your grip and splashed in the sink.

"I see," he watches you, his eyes wide open as he drinks you in. "I see you hard at work, but I must've missed you on your knees."

You sink your hands and your eyes back into the water, if not to scrub the pots, then to at least cool the heat spreading through your body. While it's been days since you've hidden back here, in the kitchens, your body never left his cabin. He made you pray to God for forgiveness, made your body fold, and join him in his groveling on the ground. And he has deprived your mortal, sinful flesh of his holy, healing touch since you got back up on your knees and walked away.

Your flesh would rot away one day, but your soul would always ache to watch him wrap his hands around every other one of his children. Back here, in the kitchen, you couldn't see it.

The Father, however, could see you. And he seeks you out. "Look at me, child," he hands return to your flesh, to your heated face. "You cannot deprive yourself of God's love forever," he contradicts himself now when mere days ago he preached at you about hoarding all of His attention. "Join me in prayer," he says with a small smile, so unlike the frown from before. "In my cabin," he leans to lay his lips atop your forehead.

And your body leans into it, your soul ascending to meet him.

[cumulo-stratus]

I'm about to cry, goodnight

[lily91106]

ooh Mathhias fights is really something

[clueless1995]

ok reading a book by candlelight CANCELLED due to my brain

[sassytail]

Nice

[writerig]

OK SO WHO WANTS TO HEAR A NEW IDEA OF MINE (it has gore though, as in mystery stuff but yes-)

[hauntedbythenarrative]

.

[chiisana-lion]

[mudwisard]

my trick for getting through grad school is learning to navigate the quadrants with all their nuances

[bootdork]

I wish it was easier to talk about mobile phone addiction without sounding like a boomer