#e-spot

[bevirspnsblmnt]

sometimes "disarm" and "trigger" are synonyms

[zirconpetals]

Purcell-accurate Max has brown marks on the bottom of his feet

But in his ttg and Hit the Road designs, his feet are all white

He does however have the marks in the cartoon and in ttiv (though in ttiv they're pretty light & are more grayish than brown)

Though it has to be noted that in the comics and in the cartoon the marks also disappear sometimes, probably to simplify the drawing/animation process

[feralmoonlight]

cowboys are ok I guess @castercassette

[harbingersglory]

hii could i req an soft dom arlecchino x sub/fem reader?? something w a really needy whiny reader n maybe like a mommy kink or thigh riding IDK tysm for ur time !

{☆} characters arlecchino {☆} notes drabble, fem reader, sub reader {☆} warnings 18+ content

"Slowly, doll. We're not in a rush." Arlecchino reprimands lightly, squeezing your hips with just enough force to keep you unmoving on her thigh– she was still being gentle, but the subtle warning in her tone spoke to how easily she could push you against the desk and turn you into such a mess that you couldn't even remember your own name..just that you were hers.

But the barest hint of stimulation from her slacks pressed against your throbbing cunt had you twitching, barely able to form words. All you could think about was the scorching, twisting need building in your stomach, desperation for relief slowly climbing until you'd think she was doing this on purpose to drive you mad.

"Please– 'm a good girl, right? I've been good.." You choked out, only to be met with the rough, husky laugh echoing in your ear that made you feel dizzy with a rush of need, her nails gliding along the skin of your hips as she pressed you down even more firmly– you couldn't see her face but it was easy to imagine the crooked smile twisting her lips at the way you inhaled sharply and tried to buck against her thigh.

"Shh. I know, doll. I've got you, just relax." She murmured in that sickly sweet tone that always had your knees buckling, the raspiness of her voice sending shivers down your spine. It was almost impossible to relax with her so close, the notes of metal lingering on her skin despite how well she presents herself– but you trusted her, despite how you know you shouldn't.

"There we go. Good girl." Arlecchino's grip on your hips loosened just enough for you to move if you so wished, and oh did it take every ounce of restraint to not do just that..she hadn't said you were allowed to, and you weren't about to spoil her good mood by being a brat. Not tonight, anyway. "Do you want to cum, doll?"

The fervent nod you offer in place of words draws a laugh from her lips, one that is almost mocking, making your face flush in embarrassment– but the sudden tap against your hip makes your mind go blank to the point you forget it all together, focused only on the feeling of her thigh rubbing against your cunt as you bucked against her thigh, the fabric slick and wet against your inner thighs. You'd have half the heart to be embarrassed about that, too, if not for the sudden brush of her thumb against your aching, neglected clit. Just that small touch has you speeding up your movements, practically drooling as you whimpered like a dog in heat.

"That's more like it, doll. Such a pretty girl." Arlecchino hummed, her other hand trailing up your stomach, between the valley of your breasts and ghosting across your throat before settling on grabbing your jaw in a firm, yet almost tender touch as she tilted your head to the side just enough for her to pull you into a burning kiss. It left you lightheaded, grinding down against her thigh as she claimed your mouth as her own, her thumb still ghosting over your clit sporadically.

She'd spent so long teasing you, constantly touching you but never where you needed her, that you already felt like you were going to snap like a wire. She must've been in a really good mood, then, when she pulled away from the kiss with an almost predatory lick of her lips, yet she settled on pressing kisses to your skin rather then the usual sharp bite of her teeth as they sunk into the curve of your shoulder.

"Are you close? Go on. I want to see your face when you cum– you look the prettiest when you finally break apart, doll." Arlecchino mused idly– as if she wasn't talking to you while you continued to rub your aching cunt against her thigh, chasing your own release through shaky, strained breaths. Her thumb swiped over your lips, brushing strands of hair stuck to your skin from your face– at the same time as she swiped her thumb more firmly against your clit, creating a vicious contrast that had you both melting at the barest hint of almost softness from her and the touch of her hand between your legs, dragging you into an orgasm that leaves you trembling and, had she not shoved her fingers into your mouth, screaming, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes.

"All done, little doll. Take it easy." She murmured, voice so quiet you almost didn't hear it, thumb swiping across your cheek to wipe away the stray tear, her hands pulling away to settle on your sides. "You did well– good girl. Let me take it from here."

[woetoy]

would prince ever tickle Eden's fancy? he's the guy all about the "getting impregnated by beasts" thing

[strawberryteabunny]

today’s coord to run errands 🐇💗

I also got to see the mag mile tulips in bloom and try a new bubble tea/poke place that opened near me! ໒꒰ྀི∗ɞ̴̶̷ ·̮ ɞ̴̶̷∗꒱ྀིა ⑅˚˖ ♥︎🧋

coord rundown:

JSK: Angelic Pretty Shoulder Ribbon JSK (Summer 2002)

apron, cardigan: BTSSB

blouse, socks: AP

I forgot to include my headdress in this but just wore a pink + white ribbon/lace rectangle headdress! oops ૮꒰ྀི⊃⸝ ⸝ ⸝⊂꒱ྀིა

[carmenpeach]

Sonic and Tails are dead... in the midwest! Chapter 4

ch 1 ch 2 ch 3

[benevolenterrancy]

Can I ask what was your first impression of TGCF and if it turned out wrong or right?

My first impression of TGCF was "this goof continuously ascends to -- and gets kicked out of -- heaven, this is going to be clown town isn't it?"

And honestly I stand by that one, I think I was completely correct**

(**barring the fact that this goof will then go on to experience ever conceivable horror known to man but honestly I mostly expected it after MDZS)

[and-not-where-we-choose]

Mystery Spot. Sam is on day 244. He's seen Dean die 243 times. He's chewing drywall, as it were. He can't deal with Dean's face anymore. His voice. His gestures. He hasn't slept in 143 nights. He hasn't had a minute without Dean. Leaves him out of his sight, he dies – new day, new rise and shine, shitty rock song and oh, he wants out, at least a break. Can't, though, can he. He's tried to keep Dean safe throughout the day. Tried that 243 times and failed every single day, same day, new day, same day, everyday.

So on day 244, something gives.

He's still got the sensory echo of Dean being fucking electrocuted on all channels of his brain when he's ripped out of non-existent sleep, same as always, and he boils over. Dean is tying his stupid fucking laces while singing and Sam throws his knife at him, hits the jugular and windpipe and Dean doesn't even have time to turn around before he's choking on his own blood. It shouldn't, really shouldn't, but it feels good for a second. Sam's actions have impact, even if it doesn't get them out; he feels like he's got steady ground under his feet for the first time in months.

Day 245, 246, same thing. 247 and he's lunging over onto Dean's bed in one big step, topples him flat onto his back and guts him navel to sternum, drops his head against his shoulder and almost laughs before he wakes up again.

Back at it on day 248 and they fight it out, in the few seconds before Dean notices the knife it almost feels like they're kids again, sparring first thing in the morning, and then Sam slices his femoral artery. He's going for the liver the following day, soft and squelching, and the next heat of the moment iteration has him sticking sharp metal into the left side of Dean's neck and out the right.

He goes a little crazy with it when he finds out how easy he can hold Dean in a headlock, chokes him into unconsciousness and it's quiet for the first time in a long, long time, and when Dean's eyes start to flutter open after half a minute, he makes it quick and painless. He trails the knife over his stomach the next time before sliding it in, for the feeling of deliberately doing something just for the sake of doing it, the illusion of control.

At one point he holds him for a while with his back flush to his chest and feels a hammering heart through the back of his ribs, shushes into his hair before ending it. They repeat that one, because Sam likes the sensory overload it throws them in; he can still feel his own heart jumping in his chest every time before they start again. Sam's pressing soothing kisses to Dean's head, and they just land a little lower with each passing day until he's got a racing hot pulse between his teeth and quick breath against his cheek. Dean doesn't even notice Sam pulling the knife the last few times until it's in him to the hilt.

On day 280-something Sam wakes up and notices Dean's off-tune singing doesn't make his blood boil anymore and the idea of having big green eyes pinned to him in a mix of anger and pleading kind of turns his stomach as it should. So he nods, greets Dean's rise and shine, Sammy with a sleep-scratchy hell yeah and makes a new plan for keeping him alive till Wednesday.

[karma-creations]

I can't stop drawing my new character send help, I'm obsessed with my own story

AU Masterpost

[criticalspell]

how long has it been? How long can this go on?

[fellow-fandom-fruitifier]

SHADOWPEAH!!!!

Flat colors & sketch!!!

[lynzishell]

The Past 💛 Atlas

I’ve finally reached a point where I can sit down and do some work on Ash’s game on my own. It took a lot longer than I thought it would. Not only because his workflow is incredibly chaotic, but also his design is incredibly complex, far more complex than anything we work on at Rainy Day, but it’s fun to feel challenged again.

I’ve spent every night this week in Ash’s living room while he walks me through everything he has so far, sorting out the design and the mechanics, his ideas for the worlds, characters, storylines, objectives, and so on. Yet, it feels like we’ve only scratched the surface.

We work well together, but we’re also easily distracted, often going off on random tangents and talking about everything from our families to school years and childhood friends to experiences we’ve had or want to have; we talk about how fun it would be to have our own indie gaming company one day, if only we could focus on the actual game for longer than an hour at a time.

Last night a song came on that inspired a whole conversation about music and all the songs we used to sing the wrong lyrics to, and some he still sings wrong just to annoy Lex. We started playing a game where we’d give each other a random word or category and the other would have to play a song they liked that fit. At one point I asked him what his guilty pleasure song is.

“Oh, I have dozens of those,” he said, “uh, but the first one that comes to mind is The Boys of Summer.”

“Your guilty pleasure song is an 80’s song?” I was shocked considering the amount of shit he gives me for the majority of my playlist.

“No no no no,” he shook his head, “I should clarify. The original sucks.”

“Of course you think so.”

“Obviously. Okay, but the one I’m talking about is the cover of The Boys of Summer by The Ataris.

“I like the name, but I have no idea who that is,” I admitted.

He laughed as he pulled up the song and told me, “You’re either going to love this or hate it. I’m not sure which.” When he pressed play, all I could do was watch in awe as he shamelessly enjoyed the song, complete with hand motions, air guitar and lip syncing. At one point he leaned in and sang directly to me, “But I don’t understand what happened to our love. But baby when I get you back, I’m gonna show you what I’m made of!” And then he spun away and started dancing to the chorus.  

Before I had a chance to think too hard about whether he was trying to tell me something through the lyrics, he pulled me off the couch to join him. We sang and danced with everything we had until we collapsed onto the couch, out of breath and wiping tears from our eyes.

When we finally calmed down, he pointed at me, “Your turn. What’s your guilty pleasure song?”

“Oh god,” I covered my face, “I can’t believe I’m going to tell you this.”

“Tell me.” He demanded.

“Dancing With Myself by Generation X. I can’t hear it and not sing and dance around my apartment like an idiot.”

“Oh, I have got to see this!” He sat up excitedly to find the song and turn it on… and then cheered when I began clapping my hands to the beat… and then completely lost it and fell over laughing when I sang along with my eerily accurate Billy Idol impersonation.

It’s become one of my favorite things, making him laugh. He has about a dozen different laughs from a rush of air through his teeth, to an infectious giggle, to a loud belly laugh… but my favorite is when he’s laughing so hard that no sound comes out aside from a series of clicks until he finally catches his breath.

It’s so easy with him, to get out of my head, to just relax and be myself.

Not everything is easy, though. I keep telling myself that eventually my feelings will fade, that it will get easier to just be his friend and nothing more, but if anything, it’s getting more difficult. Sometimes when we’re together, all I can think about is sliding my hand over to rest it on his leg, or to pick up his hand and interlace our fingers, or to reach up and hold his face, turning it toward me so I can kiss him. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about kissing him, his lips, his neck, that inch skin above his waistband that sometimes shows when his shirt rides up just enough, every part of him. Sometimes I let my eye contact linger just a little, desperate for him to give me a sign that he still feels the same way, but he never does. On some level, I’m grateful. It’s better this way. I’d only end up hurting him again.

I hear the front door open and close, bringing me out of my daydream and back to my computer screen. I look over what I’ve done so far to make sure I didn’t screw anything up while I drifted away.

A second later, I hear Dawn enter the room and flop onto my bed behind me and I glance at the clock, it’s only two.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“Finished early. What are you doing? I thought you weren’t working on Fridays anymore.”

“I’m not. It’s just a side project I’m working on with Ash.”

“Ooooh I see.”

I roll my eyes and change the subject before she can inquire further. “So, why are you on my bed? What do you want?” As I say the words, I’m overcome by the feeling that we’ve done this before.

“For you to take a break and go do something with me." I'm antsy. "I’m antsy.” Her words come out like an echo from my own mind and my whole body feels fuzzy for a moment.

“Have we had this conversation before?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Hm. I’m having the weirdest déjà vu.”

“Maybe you’ve been staring at that screen too long. We should get out and do something.”

“What do you have in mind?”

I’m open to suggestions. “I’m open to suggestions.”

Weird. This conversation, the song playing through my speaker, Dawn laying on my bed, me at my computer… everything feels so familiar. “Where’s your boyfriend? Why aren’t you dragging him out?” Even as I ask the question, I know I’ve asked it before.

“He’s busy…” Having coffee with his ex-girlfriend. “Having coffee with his ex-girlfriend.”

Okay, I clearly need some fresh air, and she clearly needs my support right now, so I save my work, lock my computer, and spin around to face her. “Oh, that’s why you’re antsy. Okay, I can take a break, but let’s go outside. We can go for a jog, that’ll get your energy out.”

“Fine, I’ll go change.”

Prev // Deja vu // Next

[dubylou-draws]

Preview of a gigantic Japanese woodblock print- style KNY fanart I'm currently working on.

This is going to take an unholy amount of time to colour in, so... here's a WIP for now 😅

Expect to see the finished piece posted here at some point- and the backstory/ historical inspiration that goes with it, too!

[acheronist]

so as far as i can tell, he got hit with a moment of Existential Panic And Misery and then wrote down his account of his entire sailing career to add in next to his issued ID papers in the wallet. so if the wallet survived then we would know who he was. thanks bestie the clues did help.

[blenselche]

It’s been forever since I let myself be vulnerable And it’s terrifying ‘cause the years of hatred took their toll Is it really fuckin’ possible for once I have a chance to just be happy

Little Blue Pills pt 4, Days N Daze

lil paint sketch

closeup cuz i didnt notice how small the canvas was