#feedback is very much appreciated

[unspuncreature]

surprise! i decided to try my hand at this youtube thing. it’d mean so much to me if you checked out my video :o)

💫 watch my obi-wan and anakin speedpaint here

[the-haunted-blog]

Haunted Part: 1

Chapter 2: Cowboys and Devils

Arthur rubbed his eyes. After a moment of blinking, the world had stopped revolving. The last few seconds flashed in his mind. The tall figure at the other end of the room stared impassively. The friendly smile on his face was little more than a mocking mask. The false smile widened, displaying more pointed teeth. “Micah? oh, you mean that one,” The man spoke casually. “He won’t be joining us, I’m afraid,” He dipped his head in a sigh.

“What’s that s’posed to mean?” Arthur growled. The sombre façade vanished without a trace from the man’s demeanor at the sight of Arthur’s struggle to withhold his temper. A devilish smirk replaced the forlorn expression he had worn moments ago. Arthur clenched his jaw. The pressure caused the ache in his head to flare up once more.

“What’d you do?” Arthur demanded through gritted teeth, sounding like a rabid dog. The man leaned back on his heels, his black curls bobbing along as he swayed his arms, tilting back and forth on his feet like a bored child. “The more appropriate question would be where are we? or better yet, who am I?” The man gestured to the small room around them and then to himself. He paused, tilting his head to the side in a show of contemplation, “Although, I suppose it is relatively pointless to ask me, in the end, the answers will appear whether or not the question was ever asked,” He shrugged in satisfaction at his own realisation, still rocking on his heels as he spoke. “As to Micah not being present, that is because, unlike you, he isn’t dead,” The man stated. Arthur stared blankly at the man, wondering how hard he had hit his head to hallucinate so vividly.

The man was oblivious to Arthur’s confusion, continuing in a light, cheery tone. “Well, he will officially be dead in roughly...” He made a show of counting on his fingers, holding up odd amounts in no clear order. He smiled at Arthur, holding both hands splayed out, “forty minutes.”

Arthur blocked out the man’s circus act, staring at the space between them. He searched through his memory, trying to find what had led him to wake up in such a situation. His mind was blank, he could scarcely recall the last week. The man idly clapped his hands, Arthur tensed at the noise. The man was swaying his arms, clapping them quietly together at the peak of their arcs, he stared in the vague direction of Arthur, seemingly caught up in his ramblings.

“If the difference in time flow is taken into consideration, he will be dead in the next thirty years, give or take a couple of decades,” he shrugged, “the conversion between the time zones is a tad bit imprecise, I usually ignore the details anyway, in the end, you all wind up where you belong,” the man's scarlet eyes fixed directly on Arthur; he flashed an unnerving, wolf-like smile. Arthur glared at the man. A cunning monster playing the role of the unassuming fool.

The man idly paced around the small space as he spoke, arms folded behind his back, “you Mortals have such fleeting lives, I really cannot comprehend it,” the man tilted his head to the side, smiling at nothing. “It sure is amusing to me though, it’s always a good laugh to see the new souls panic, a lot of you seem to struggle with the simple concept of eternity.” The man chuckled softly as if he had heard a joke. Arthur understood less and less the more he heard.

“Anyway, no need to worry about any of that, or of Micah, since you won’t be seeing him again any time soon, if ever, depending on where he ends up once he expires,” The man spoke casually, glancing at Arthur as he walked. Arthur stared blankly at the man, utterly confused to the meaning behind half of what he had heard. The only important part he focused on was that the deluded fool knew who Micah was. The man stopped a mere millimeter in front of the wall opposite Arthur. “Want to see something interesting?” he looked over his shoulder at Arthur. Rather than accept the reality that it was a solid wall and there was no exit to the room, the man defied all reason and put his foot through the wall as if it wasn’t there. The bounds of reality, along with the solid material of the wall, melted into a black smoke-like substance that dissipated; leaving nothing but a pure white space where the wall had once existed. Arthur watched the very room he was in melt and vanish into solid white. He would have panicked, but he was too preoccupied, watching his understanding of reality be shattered by the man calmly strolling through the endless white as if it was his house. The man snapped his fingers like a stage performer.

The black smoke snaked out from under the man’s shoes, clinging to his heels like a loyal dog as he walked. The white world swirled with the black smoke as the man spun on his heel to face Arthur, his scarlet eyes almost glowing in stark contrast against the monochrome tones around them. The black smoke swirled, for a fleeting moment, warped wings of ink unfurled behind the man; a poor facsimile of an angel. With only a sharp flick of his wrist, the swirling of black and white stilled and from it came a flood of grey which washed over everything. The man snapped his fingers, and the grey receded like the tide, rushing back into his shadow. Arthur was left sitting dumbstruck on the floor, but instead of a brightly lit box, he was surrounded by a dimly lit room with bookcases covering every last centimeter of wall. The dark cherry wood that made up the floor was real, from what Arthur could tell, it felt real as anything. The only light in the room emanated from a small lamp on a grand mahogany desk at the back of the room, directly opposite Arthur. The green glass covering gave the room a faint sickly green tint. Beside the lamp was an ornate silver stag with scarlet gems for eyes, the same shade as the man’s. Arthur looked up beyond the desk to see that same man staring at him with an almost amused expression on his face. The man kicked his legs up onto the desk and reclined in an overly decorated cherry wood and velvet cushioned chair. The line between chair and throne was blurred, the gold and silver inlaid into the head of the chair in intricate symbols and patterns provoked the idea of a royal’s throne, but the physical design was that of a mundane chair, if not, a fancy one belonging to an aristocrat.

“You know you can stand up, right?” The man asked rhetorically. His smile was impossibly wide like a hyena’s. Kill or be killed was the rule of beasts and Arthur, like all people, was little more than a cornered dog afraid of death, biting indiscriminately at every hand. “Best start explainin’ yourself or I’ll send you straight to hell!” Arthur threatened, his words slurring in his anger. He sprang up off the floor and moved in fast, steady strides towards the smiling man. His right hand went to the faded leather holster at his hip in one fluid motion. It was ingrained into his muscle memory. Instead of the familiar cold steel of his revolver, his hand found only air. Arthur halted his rage-fueled crusade midway. He stood directly in front of the desk with the man lazily reclining in his chair. Arthur's eyes snapped down to his belt to find not only his revolver missing, but his hunting knife as well. Even his satchel was devoid of its contents. He was defenseless. His eyes flicked back to see the man smile at him. Arthur snatched the silver stag from the desk and hurled it, aiming at the man’s head. It was only mere millimeters off connecting when the stag combusted into blindingly vibrant emerald flames that consumed until nothing remained of the stag, not even ash.

“Calm down, there’s no need to get violent, is there?” The man sounded amused. “Besides, cowboy, if I honestly had any intention of harming you, I would have done so already,” It was said in a surprisingly friendly tone, but it was clear as day to Arthur that this was a threat and one that he had no doubt, this man for all his false smiles and calm demeanor, would not hesitate to go through with. “I've heard breathing helps to calm you humans down when your fickle emotions start getting out of hand, maybe give it a go?” The man suggested in the most condescending tone Arthur had ever heard. He had half a mind to climb over the desk and strangle the man with his bare hands. Arthur glanced at where the silver stag had once been and quashed the urge. His mind brought forward the image of the black wings behind the man. Even if that display had been a cheap magician’s trick, the unshakable calm which the man held himself with was unsettling in a way Arthur couldn’t understand. He only knew that attacking outright would be the same as writing his own obituary.

The man rested his chin on his palm. “Tell me, were you paying attention earlier to what I was saying or were you too busy attempting and ultimately failing to harm me?” The man questioned, raising his eyebrow at Arthur’s silence. “Well, I’m going to take that murderous glare as a sign that you were not paying attention in the slightest!” The man said dramatically, clapping his hands together for effect. Arthur flinched slightly like a cat sprayed with water. The man's mood and attitude seemed to shift and change drastically like turbulent waves. Arthur couldn’t tell if it was an act or if the man was insane.

“As I briefly mentioned before, you died, cowboy, and unsurprisingly wound up here, in Hell where it’s my job to find you a suitable punishment for your many, many sins,” The man gestured with his hands as he spoke to punctuate his words. Arthur glared at the erratic man. Trying to kill him was pointless, there was no clear way to escape the room either. The only option was to play along with the man’s delusions. “S’posin’ I really did kick the bucket like you say, then what? You gon’ challenge me to a fiddlin’ contest or sumthin’?” Arthur asked, his voice ladened with mockery. “An’ anyways, who're you s’posed to be? The devil? Satan? Lucifer?” Arthur questioned, pointing to the man in accusation.

“All of those and none of them,” The man answered vaguely, giving Arthur a large smile.

“S’cuse me, but what in Christ's that s’posed to mean?” Arthur cut in bluntly. He couldn’t keep up with the madness, it all made less sense to him than science did. The man sighed, rolling his eyes.

“Well, you humans like to come up with different names every few thousand years or so, after you’ve made a new religion of some kind, worshipping some ‘god’ or ‘gods’, but ultimately they all represent the same kind of thing more or less,” The man explained, as he spoke, he shifted repeatedly in his seat, cycling through poses as if to physically express what he said. Eventually he ended with his elbows resting on the desk and his fingers interlaced as if he was about to speak about important business. Arthur gave him a blank stare. He was completely lost. The man sighed, slumping inwards like a disappointed corpse.

“I’m The Admin,” he said, “Capital t and a, call me Admin or any abbreviation of the sort and I will eat your soul, okay?” The Admin explained dryly. He had the demeanor of an overworked circus performer going over the same act every day. Arthur tipped his hat ever so slightly as a show of agreement. He had no idea if the threat to consume his soul was legitimate or a twisted attempt at humour. The Admin fiddled with an odd looking translucent blue pen, flipping it around deftly in his hands. “I’m in a good mood, so you got any questions? Want the answer to meaning of life? Or the reason you humans have conscious thought while every other lifeform in your realm is as self aware as dirt?” The Admin asked, raising an eyebrow expectantly. His speech shifted as fast as his emotions, speaking one moment like a well-educated man of status, the next a fool with odd words and phrases.

Arthur adjusted his hat, repositioning it pointlessly as he considered what questions to ask.

“So’s god real? Or is all us poor bastards stuck dealin’ with you?” Arthur asked, resting his hands on his belt. The pen clattered to the desk, forgotten by The Admin who had donned a hurt expression on his face, clutching his chest like his heart was giving out.

“You make it sound like being with me is a bad thing,” The Admin whined like an upset child. Arthur scowled at him in silent judgement. He regained composure, smiling as he fiddled with the pen once more. “Well, you picked the wrong question, because that particular piece of information is on a need-to-know basis and frankly you don’t need to know, cowboy,” The Admin said with a spitefully cheery tone. His eyes widened for a moment.

“Quick question, you mentioned earlier that you aren’t dead, correct?” The Admin asked, pointing the end of the pen at Arthur. His response fell on deaf ears as The Admin continued to speak. “Yep, it seems you're suffering from Post-Death Amnesia, it’ll pass over the course of a day or two, approximately a month or so in Mortal time.” The Admin explained casually as if he was chatting about the weather.

“No clue what you’re yappin’ ‘bout, but I ain’t dead” Arthur said firmly. The Admin nodded,

“I’m sure you’re aware that Denial isn’t just a stream in Hell, right?” He asked. Arthur scowled at him.

“Honestly, I’m incredibly sorry to have to burst your little ‘still being alive’ bubble, cowboy, but you definitely did croak, as you know, with the whole neck-snapping thing, it’s kind of a one-way ticket,” The Admin said nonchalantly, conveying none of the sympathetic apology of which he had spoken of. Arthur glared at him; The Admin paid no heed. “Here, I’ll even give you a demonstration of what happened,” His hands hovered just above the desk, fingers splayed as if he was about to play piano. Thin lines of black ran from the tips of his fingers, forms emerged, a person, a crowd and the gallows. The Admin controlled the scene like a skilled marionette presenting at a show. The hat worn by the person at the gallows made it more than clear who it was depicting.

“You’re one sick bastard,” Arthur muttered. The strings on The Admins fingers snapped and the puppets sank into the desk in a pool of black. “Ha, that's rich coming from you, cowboy.” The Admin retorted. Arthur slammed his hands on the desk,” Keep callin’ me that an’ I’ll gouge out your eyes,'' Arthur glared unflinchingly into the eyes of a monster. The Admin smiled, adjusting the blue pen which had rolled across the desk. “Oh, stop being so grumpy, cowboy, it's only a harmless nickname,” he placated. Arthur dug his fingers into his palms. The Admin smirked, shifting in his seat. “Now, I need to go search for something real quick, if you would like some entertainment, you can look out the window,” he pointed at a bookcase covered wall to the right of them. As if on cue, a window formed out of the bookcase. Arthur glanced back to The Admin, he was hunched over one of the drawers of the desk, rambling, “I heard the weather’s supposed to be nice at this time of the century, lots of storms...'' Arthur ignored the mutterings and walked over to the newly created window.

The vantage point from the window was too high to make out any small details, but the overall image before Arthur was disorientating. The space where the sky normally existed was a churning ocean with crashing waves and whirlpools, the water had an illumination to it, pulsing like storm clouds before a lightening strike. As the ocean grew further towards the horizon, it faded into a pale blue that shimmered like in a perpetual heatwave. Arthur couldn’t wrap his head around how the ocean could be in the sky, or how it could produce light. It was ethereal and utterly unlike anything he had ever imagined Hell to look like.

Arthur pulled his eyes away from the glowing ocean, surveying the lands beneath it. The position of the window gave him a clear vantage point to gaze across the entire city and beyond, all the way to what seemed to be the countryside judging by the spaced-out fields. The buildings of the city were painted vibrant shades of reds, greens and yellows creating a contrasting scene. Each street had unique architecture, some of which Arthur recognised, it seemed as if they were all built to replicate different styles from around the world. On the horizon, beyond civilisation was a massive black structure. The small fraction of Hell Arthur gazed upon was fascinating as it was bizarre.

“Are you enjoying the view?” Arthur jumped, reflexively lashing out at whatever was near him. His fists were stopped, frozen in the air. The Admin chuckled. He stood beside Arthur, towering over him like an ancient tree. Whatever force held his arms captive disappeared; Arthur folded them across his chest.

“I was till you ruined it,” Arthur muttered, glaring up at The Admin’s unwavering smile. “Mortals sure are jumpy, aren’t you?” The Admin said teasingly, slapping Arthur on the back, knocking his hat halfway off his head. “I’m gonna kill you...” Arthur muttered. The Admin chuckled, “I would love to see you try, I really would, cowboy.” Arthur adjusted his hat, firmly planting it on his head.

The Admin pointed to the black structure in the distance, “You see that all the way out there? those are the Rings where all you sinners go- well, that’s one of them at least, the others are spread out according to each sector of governance, so in very simple terms, a Ring for each of those four directions you Mortals like to put on maps, what are they called again? Saest, um, Worth, Nouth, and whatever the last one is…er, Eest?” The Admin ran a hand through his curls, looking as embarrassed as a towering monster with red eyes could possibly look, which turned out to be about the same as any other person. Arthur deemed his idiocy worth a bit more than a single scoff. “You sure know how to be intimidatin’, I’ll give you that, I’m shakin’ in my boots just hearin’ ‘bout this ‘Eest’, real spooky.” The Admin rolled his eyes, “you sure are lucky that I like you, cowboy, or else you too would be going to one of those Rings right now as punishment for all your little misdeeds,” The Admin said cheerily, nudging Arthur in the shoulder with a sharply pointed elbow. Arthur stared at the distant place of torment on the horizon. The Admin sure did know how to be intimidating, and Arthur would never admit that there could have been a minor shiver running down his spine to his boots, he was just a bit cold.

“You know, I probably would have sent you to the Ring of Futility, considering the nature of your sins,” The Admin commented. Arthur barely had time to consider those words, “Well, that’s enough sightseeing for now,” A long, slender arm wrapped around his shoulders, “Oi! Hell is you doin’?” Arthur struggled to free himself but was ultimately unable to escape the deceptively strong grasp which The Admin had on him. Arthur was steered back towards the desk, The Admin absent-mindedly chatting as they walked. “Heh, you sure like to repeat the same mistake over and over again... but, I suppose you are human after all, takes you all forever to notice what’s been obvious from the start.” Arthur made no response, simply wishing to be anywhere but in the same space as The Admin.

A large leather book and folder had been placed on the middle of the desk. The Admin returned to his overly decorated chair, Arthur scowled at him like an indignant child, disgruntled at being man-handled. He noticed that even while sat down, The Admin was above his eye level, if only by less than a head. The Admin snapped his fingers “I forgot to give you a chair, woops,” black smoke rose from the floor and formed the outline of a chair, it solidified, taking on the properties of cherry wood and velvet. It was identical in style to The Admin’s, but not in decoration, being bare of the symbols and words that adorned The Admin’s grand throne-chair. Arthur gingerly sat down, relaxing only after he was sure it wouldn’t turn into smoke underneath him. The Admin cleared his throat, picking up the leather book, he brandished it in his hand like a weapon. “This right here has vital information on Hell and ghosts which will be very important for you to know in the near future, so I highly suggest you read it,” The Admin explained. The book in question was as thick as a brick if not thicker. “That is, if you have the cognitive ability to read, as I know the people from your time period weren’t exactly known for their literacy skills,” The Admin jabbed. He extended the book out to Arthur who snatched it from his hand. “I ain’t illiterate, you smiley bastard.” Arthur snapped. He inspected the book. The leather of the book had a deep crimson colour to it, not too dissimilar to the colour of blood. Foreign words were imprinted on the front in gold. Arthur ignored the strange words and flipped the book open. The Admin waved something in front of Arthur’s face. He slammed the book shut and looked up at the bothersome person across the desk.

The Admin pushed a yellow paper folder across the desk to him. “That has a file in it which contains information on what your punishment is going to be,” The Admin explained. Arthur opened the folder with one hand, holding the book in the other. Inside was a piece of paper with words Arthur didn’t bother to read, he focused on the coloured photograph attached to the paper, briefly wondering how it even had colour. The boy in the photograph was strangely interesting, but Arthur couldn’t place why. Arthur realised it was the eyes and hair of the boy that caught his attention, he was blond with green eyes. Arthur had rarely seen people with either blond hair or green eyes, to see both was something new. The rest of the boy was mildly less interesting, his hair, outside of being blond, was a mess of thick layers poking out around his eyes and ears; it reminded Arthur of his own hair hidden under his hat. The boys’ features were ill fitting for his face, creating the effect of him appearing far younger than he likely was. Ignoring the boy’s face, Arthur noticed that the red and white sweater he wore had little images of trees and deer stitched in. Arthur finally decided to read the information written beside the photograph. He wondered what the boy's parents were thinking when giving their son such an odd name, he almost felt sorry.

Arthur looked up at The Admin, he was fiddling with the pen once again. “Why’d you gimme this? What’s all this gotta do with sum kid?” he asked, pointing to the photograph of the boy. “You’ll figure it out, eventually,” The Admin answered vaguely. Arthur let out a sigh and reopened the strange book. Most of the beginning pages were written in the same foreign language as the cover of the book, Arthur skipped a few chapters in order to find words he could read. The short minutes of silence that Arthur had been enjoying were interrupted. “I'm guessing you’ve realised what's going to happen, haven't you?” The Admin asked, leaning on the desk with his elbows. Arthur continued to read, only half paying attention.

“I’ll take that as a no, you haven’t…fine I guess I’ll spell it out for you,” The Admin said, sighing dramatically as if speaking to Arthur was a chore he had to do. “You, cowboy, are going to become a ghost as part of your punishment,” The Admin said. “You hit your head, or you just brainless by birth?” Arthur asked, glancing up at The Admin with scorn. “As a matter of fact, I have not hit my head, and technically I was never born at all, so that insult is invalid,” The Admin said, smiling like a saint. Arthur scoffed. “Point is, you ain’t all there in the head, ‘cause if I recall you said I’m dead, meanin’ I’m already a ghost, ain’t I? so why you tellin’ me that like it’s special?” Arthur asked. The Admin let out an airy chuckle.

“So, do you finally accept that you are very much dead? Good, well, anyway, the fact of you being separated from the ol’ mortal coil as some would put it, means that you are merely just your soul, no vessel, that hunk of meat was left behind, and so in short, you’re bound to this realm for eternity, which isn’t the same as a ghost, a ghost is a soul with specific conditions applied to it which means it can belong in the Immortal realm and in some capacity, the Mortal realm as well, even without a fleshy little container to tie it down, the specific reasons for why that has been applied to you, I wont get into now, but I will say it’s related to the boy I gave you that file on,” The Admin explained in a torrent of words. Arthur scratched the back of his head. “Don’t make a lick of sense what you just yapped about, but I don’t care much anyways, oh an’ just so y’know, I ain’t accepted nothin’ ‘cause I ain’t dead,” Arthur said, briefly glancing up from the book. He wondered when this strange dream of his would end. The Admin sighed, resting his hands under his chin. “I suppose it makes no difference whether you comprehend the underlying mechanisms of your current state of existence and the reality around you, however, it would make my job easier if you did, far less questions for me to answer.” Arthur made no comment, absorbed in the book.

The Admin began rummaging through the desk drawers. A gold pocket watch was placed on the desk in front of Arthur. He glanced at it and closed the book, picking up the pocket watch in his free hand. He flipped open the case. The watch face was black with four purple indents along it, no hands or numbers to indicate time. “That there is a cursed pocket watch, it’s useless here, but it will start being very useful once you leave,” The Admin explained. As if on cue, a bell dinged, and The Admin abruptly stood. “Well, I'm all out of time, a new soul just arrived so you need to get going and I need to clean this place up,” as he spoke the room began melting into the same shadowy substance as it had formed from. Arthur stood in the black abyss beside The Admin, all that remained was the desk. “Might want to take those with you,” The Admin gestured to the odd items Arthur had been shown. He grabbed the file on the boy and the pocket watch along with the book, as soon as they were in his arms the desk disappeared in a black blob. Arthur stuffed the items in his satchel.

“Over here, cowboy,” The Admin grabbed Arthur's shoulders and moved him like a piece on a board. Arthur bristled at the unwanted touch.

“There is a door I need you to walk through,” The Admin pointed into the void where a dark red door suddenly appeared.

“It will take you to your punishment,”

“An’ what if I don’t want to go?”

Arthur glared up at The Admin. “What’re you gonna do then, steal my soul?” The Admin smirked. “Nope! I already own it”

Arthur folded his arms across his chest, standing his ground as if this was the worthiest of hills to die on. The Admin’s smile widened dangerously; Arthur wondered how the sides of his face didn’t tear.

“Since you insist so much on staying, I’ll just make you leave!” The Admin snapped his fingers. Arthur braced himself expecting something to happen, but nothing did. He raised his eyebrow at The Admin, whose face was the picture of childlike glee.

“See you later, cowboy!” The Admin waved to Arthur. There was a rush of wind as the door opened, revealing a world of white on the other side. Arthur was knocked off his feet and dragged towards the door. He clawed at the ground for some sort of purchase to stop himself. The Admin was unaffected, calmly watching with a perpetual smile on his face. Arthur was thrown through the open door like a ragdoll; for only a moment he assumed the nightmare was over and he would wake up.

[samurai-skittle-squad]

If you missed it, I did start putting the DnD AU fic up on AO3! I'm two chapters in, and Chapter 3 is in progress!

A sort-of Take Me Back to Eden prelude is up too! Hopefully I'll get Take Me Back to Eden in progress too before long.

Finished designs for the DND AU Troopers! Heights aren't accurate in this line up, but Shu would be the tallest now! Also, Touma's wings can appear and disappear as needed.

[starlitmeadows]

today i offer you slugcats but sea slugs

sea scugs

bg-less version

[emiliagrant]

Don't walk away from something before you even know what it is.

[flemish-giant-jackalope]

In the middle of the lab a werewolf lays on his back. His legs and arms chained to the ground.

You would think he would protest more but the amount of drugs and aphrodisiac coursing through his veins prevent it.

It also helps that you're currently riding his dick in a desperate attempt to milk him dry. He is in utter bliss, drooling with his tongue hanging out of his maw.

You're in a cowgirl position. Wearing nothing more than a tiny chastity cage and your sweat. On the cage there is yellow warming label attached. The following text printed beneath it.

"Extractor is in use. do not remove!"

Officially you are designated as a biological extractor unit, and property of the laboratory. But the lab personal has given you the nickname "fleshlight". To your own drugged and hypnotised satisfaction.

You whimper as you're desperately try to get past his knot. You want it so bad! You want to be praised for a job well done! You want to be a good fleshlight!

A person wearing a lab coat approaches you. You're so out of it you don't ever hear them approach.

"Are you having difficulty fleshlight?"

You flinch when you hear them. Which you instantly regret as your hole clenches around the werewolf’s shaft.

You stop to let your hole relax. Looking up at them you let out whine. Laboratory equipment can't use words.

They look down at you amused. "it's ok you cute little fleshlight. This is our biggest subject yet, so you just need more time to stretch that pretty little hole of yours."

With a gloved hand they take your chin, and softly raise it till they know they have your full attention. With the same tone you might politely ask a machine to do something, they say; "you're only goal in life is to be a good stretchy hole."

You zone out as the words trigger intake training. As you relax completely your eyes glaze over and a lazy smile forms on your face.

The lab assistant, still holding your chin in their hand, slides a gloved thumb in your mouth. You don't even mind or register it. You're completely focused on relaxing your ass as much as possible, while drooling happily on their thumb.

They pull their one hand back softly. Reaching their other hand into their lab coat they take out a vial. With a routine that must have happened a 100 times they collect the saliva from their thumb.

While keeping their eyes on the vial of saliva they say: "activate extractor routine 4"

You place your hands on you calf’s, using all your weight to try and conquer the werewolf’s knot. You ride it up and down slowly.

Pleased with the consistency of the sample the scientist takes a step over the werewolf’s leg.

Their standing behind you as you blissfully ride the werewolf’s cock. Desperately trying to stretch your hole. A mantra going through your head.

"a good fleshlight is a stretchy fleshlight, a good fleshlight is a stretchy fleshlight, a good fleshlight is a stretchy fleshlight, a good fleshlight is a stretchy fleshlight, a good fleshlight is a stretchy fleshlight,"

The squat behind you and inspect your progress

"Fleshlight sit"

You stop at the tip of the werewolf’s cock and let your weight glide you down. Your hole slightly stretching over the knot.

The blue medical glove glides easily over the lubed knot. Their index finger gliding upwards towards your hole, and glides in with little resistance. They hum satisfied and glide a second finger in. The smile on your face just widens, happy to inspected like a good piece of lab equipment.

They glide their fingers out and collect the liquid in another vial. "It seems you do need some more help." they stand up and put one a new pair of gloves.

While still behind you they put their hand over your mouth. Index and middle finger pushed inside your mouth. You start sucking on them.

"Your intake training is still doing wonders" they get a small vial from their coat and open it one handed. Holding it under their nostrils the smell already giving you a rush of endorphin. You get the simple command of "breath in"

You fill your lungs with the product as if it was the first breath you ever took.

"gooood fleshlight" the scientists says with a smile.

The chemicals course through your system and you hear your heartbeat in your head. As a pleasant heat flows over your body, your exhale takes any bit tension left in your body with it.

"Fleshlight ride"

You move your body up and down the length of the shaft. Feeling your hole open up more and more. Al the wile repeating the mantra in your head.

"a good fleshlight is a stretchy fleshlight, a good fleshlight is a stretchy fleshlight, a good fleshlight is a stretchy fleshlight, a good fleshlight is a stretchy fleshlight, a good fleshlight is a stretchy fleshlight,"

After a couple of minutes later you almost get over the thicket parts. Joy radiates your face as drool slowly leaks out of your mouth. The scientist eagerly collecting it in a vial.

While putting the closed vial in their lab coat, they look at the werewolf’s head. Still drooling and content, but with a quickening breath.

Smiling but determined the scientists quickly gets your happy vile from their coat.

"Fleshlight tip"

You stop at the top of you ascend. The tip of the werewolf’s massive cock keeping you nice and loose.

Quickly they put the vial under your nose.

"Breath in"

Still swimming in the effect of the previous huff you greedily inhale again. Your mantra only getting louder in your brain. There are no other thoughts allowed.

"a good fleshlight is a stretchy fleshlight, a good fleshlight is a stretchy fleshlight, a good fleshlight is a stretchy fleshlight, a good fleshlight is a stretchy fleshlight, a good fleshlight is a stretchy fleshlight,"

A knew intensified wave of heat flows over you. Spreading to your whole body as you feel it loosen.

You can feel every cm of the werewolf’s cock in detail.

"Fleshlight sit"

You fall down and you feel the scientist putting a bit of their weight on your shoulders.

You slam onto the knot and your ass opens up. Feeling your ass stretch over the knot feels like heaven. And then suddenly

"pop"

The werewolf’s breathing is getting erratic.

"Fleshlight ride" the scientists commands, getting a bit breathless themselves.

You've never felt so full in your life! As you ride you feel the knot gliding over prostate again and again. Precum is being pumped out as you continue going up and down. The knot has now swelled too much and you can't get it out anymore. You don't care! A good fleshlight is a stretchy fleshlight! A good fleshlight is a stretchy fleshlight! And you've taken the knot! You want to be the best fleshlight!

And the best fleshlight are used and filled with cum!

The werewolf’s is panting heavily, even with all the drugs coursing through his veins he tries to hump the fleshlight. A low satisfied growl begins as he cums.

The knot swells a final time as your locked into extasy! With every wave of cum, the knot pushes into your prostate making you leak more and more, as you feel your belly swell more and more. Desperately you move up and down trying to get every last drop off cum out of the beast beneath you.

The scientist has a hand in their pants too, no longer able to contain themselves. They quickly bend down and grab your chin, bending your head backwards, forcing you to focus on their face and voice.

Slightly out of breath they say "You're a very good fleshlight and deserve a reward"

Without any objection from you they open your mouth. You see them open theirs and letting their tongue hang out. A droplet of their spit falls on your face. You're delirious with joy! You're being praised for a job well done and are going to get a reward!

Al the while you still feel the werewolf filling you up.

"You deserve it, fleshlight can cum"

They say before pushing their tongue in your mouth.

Fleshlight has been good! Fleshlight has been good! Fleshlight has been so good!

You ride werewolf’s dick for all that you still can. Your moans into the French kiss as you feel a well-earned orgasm rock you to your core! You're abused prostate finally giving you release as you spray cum out of your cage onto the belly of the werewolf!

Releasing the kiss the scientists the scientists place their face next your ear. Observing the beautiful scene of your cum on the wolfs chest.

"Good extractor, you've been a very good extractor."

They coo softly. "Now rest a bit while the subject knot shrinks. And then will take this good little extractor to collection" they say with while petting your cheek. You push your face into their hand with the little energy you still have.

Still smiling they pet your head a little more. "I'll get our favourite lab equipment some water. We need to maintain you properly so you can do your job so well." with a smirk they add "Sit tight, I'll get our equipment their liquids"

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

🌸 !!CHAPTER NINE POSTED!! 🌸

Title: Four Walls

Tags: slow burn, domesticity, friends to lovers, smut, pining post sias/pre am era

Summary: Disillusioned with LA and on the heels of a breakup, Alex goes to stay with Miles in London.

[duckieduccss]

NEW KAIJU OC?!?!

Well, yea technically. Basically i was interested in figuring out how id go with making my own kaiju. At first i wasnt sure where to go for designing one. So i chose to base it off another existing kaiju for inspiration. I kinda wanted to go for a dragon type kaiju (i like dragons) and the only thing i could think of was Ghidorah so i went with that (now that i think about it more, I could’ve maybe used Manda too prob but oh well, Ghidorah was still a good option). I added some different details to mine that make it unique to the og Ghidorah

My idea was that it could potentially be a relative to Ghidorah (being of the same species) but still far apart from one another to the point they arent all that aware of the other existing (theyre in for a shock when & if they do encounter each other lol). This version actually relies on cosmic energy derived from such sources like stars & generally anything that produce some form of energy within the vast universe (basing it off how Ghidorah themselves originally came from space & this variant being much more dependent on that factor). It stores that energy & relatively stays in a dormant stage for an extended period of time until when faced with the challenge to defend itself or fight off those it deems as a danger. Then it would release all that ginormous amount of space energy that manifests itself as a rapidly expanding glow of extremely bright light. Enough to cause extreme damage & bring down the opposition. It can gather energy by using special crystals it can grow (took that also as inspiration but from Space Godzilla) & become as some form of attracting & absorbing the energy. In a way, the energy is like its main source of food & energy to maintain itself (right after releasing a lot of it during its final attack of using that glow, it would be put in a highly vulnerable state if not recovered by regaining some energy back soon enough). For the most part, they mostly sleep (being lazy 24/7 just like me fr lmao) to keep all that energy but can be potentially dangerous if disturbed or provoked in some manner

(Here’s a better closer look at their faces. Realized the canvas’ too big to properly see each of them-)

The name of this kaiju you may be wondering???

It’s Ryudorah

(Yea i know im the most creative person out there. I combined another nickname i use for myself and just added the end part of Ghidorah’s name to make it clear it’s related to the other kaiju. I couldn’t think of anything else im sorry😭)

And also each head has its own individual name:

Do, Re & Mi

(Named after intervals in the musical scale (ex: Do, Re, Mi, Fa, So, La, Ti, Do)

Did i mention this kaiju can also technically sing too :)

I did have a lot of fun with coming up with the concept for them (tho it honestly took longer in designing them due to a busy schedule ive been put in as of late & finding the time to finish it) but im glad to finally be able to share this with you all. Hopefully I can share more about them soon (i have a whole google doc’s worth of lore lmao) & probably draw them again (tho maybe a lot more simplified by then). Didn’t wanna overwhelm ppl with the huge amount of info so I’ll prob slowly reveal more over time.

[Another thing too is that i still am new to the fandom (tho with more knowledge from getting to learn more from the source material) & most of this i gathered from already know stuff i knew. Tho im also open to feedback & maybe some ideas to add onto my own kaiju. So id very much appreciate it if there’s any suggestions from you guys ^^⭐️]

(I’ll only be taking constructive criticism btw. Anything hateful will obv be ignored)

[beanghostprincess]

"Jealousy and other pathetic feelings"

(Zolu/Sanuso fanfic)

Luffy’s like the sun. So bright and hot that it burns if you approach him enough. Everybody wants to stare at him, but only Zoro is brave enough to get blinded and melt in his rays. Usopp, on the other hand, is so domestic and fragile Sanji fears he might slip in between his fingers like sand. It’s delicate. Both things are. - Zoro and Sanji pining over their boyfriends and moping around with jealousy because Luffy and Usopp are acting closer than usual.

This is a silly fluffy prompt that @leiatroublecat gave me and I turned it into a bittersweet, character analysis, angsty fic because I am a menace to society! That being said, I hope you all enjoy it!! <3

[blackjackkent]

The Hellraisers - Chapter 1

Pairing: Karlach/Male Custom Tav, Tav & Wyll, Karlach & Wyll Characters: OC Male Tav (Hector Carlisle), Karlach, Wyll Rating: E (Fic), T (Chapter) Warnings: None Descriptors: Post-Game, Action/Adventure/Romance, Eventual Happy Ending Chapter Word Count: 4.5k Chapter Setting: Avernus, immediately after the end of BG3 Summary: Hector Carlisle, a Selunite monk turned adventuring warrior, follows his lover Karlach and his friend Wyll into the depths of hell after the fall of the Netherbrain. Together, they take on an even greater foe - Zariel, the Archdevil of Avernus. The Hells won't know what hit them. Chapter Summary: Hector, Karlach, and Wyll arrive in the Hells after a panicked flight from Baldur's Gate - and the weight of what they've decided to do starts to sink in.

read on ao3 | send me fic requests!

------------------------------

Hector Carlisle’s journals of the Absolutist crisis provide one of the most comprehensive summaries available to modern historians of the events leading up to what is now called the High Hall Shattering. There is not a single day for which Carlisle does not account in detail between Alturiak 10 1492 DR (when he first obtained pen and ink after the crash of the nautiloid which kidnapped him) and Uktar 24 (the night before the Netherbrain’s public attack on Baldur’s Gate’s Upper City). However, after the defeat of the Netherbrain, his own records of his activities abruptly become much more intermittent and rather staccato in nature, lacking the level of detail common to his so-called “Tadpole Chronicles.”

There are multiple theories regarding this sharp change in Carlisle’s record-keeping tendencies. Some of these theories incline towards the conspiratorial - suggesting that the monk’s disappearance into Avernus was associated with some sort of nefarious activity which he was unwilling to commit to paper. Some even go so far as to accuse him of sacrilegious behavior, though this is rendered unlikely by records of both Carlisle’s own Selunite convictions and opinions from all who knew him.

A far more probable explanation is that Carlisle’s thorough record-keeping in his pre-Shattering travels emerged from a sense of obligation. As a monk at the Silverlight Monastery, he had primarily occupied himself with transcription and scholarship of historical texts, and his training placed considerable emphasis on self-reliance and emotional reserve. As such, he considered his own journals to be necessary documentation in the same vein, and he prided himself on impartial and factual chronicling. 

His departure to Avernus with Wyll Ravengard and Karlach Cliffgate would ultimately prove no less impactful to the world at large. However, it is clear that he considered it a far more personal endeavor, as evidenced by the remarkably succinct entry from Uktar 25 1492, his first entry after his departure from the Material Plane:

Uktar 25 1492

She’s alive. She’s going to live. Thank the gods.

~ Excerpt from “Raising Hell: A History of Zariel’s Fall” by Harlow et. al., Blackstaff Academy Press

-----

"Hec, look out! On your left!"

Hector dodges to the side just in time to avoid the imp diving towards him; its claws skim the side of his head and score a painful line along his temple. Pivoting onto his heel, he spins, bringing his right fist around to slam heavily into the imp's thick torso. The evil little creature’s spine snaps and it screeches with pain. He takes no satisfaction in it, but watches with blank exhaustion as the imp falls to the rust-red dirt and is still. 

"Nice one!" Wyll calls. He withdraws his rapier from the body of another imp and points past Hector’s shoulder. "Looks like another wave coming in - off to the west." Hector follows his gaze and groans; sure enough, another band of the imps is closing in on them, surging over the horizon like a swarm of bees.

It’s been like this ever since they arrived. They’ve had no chance to orient themselves, no time to get a foothold after their panicked flight from the Material Plane. Avernus rose up to meet them like a body driving out an infection; the first wave of defenders appeared within minutes, closing on this raw strip of hellish wasteland to which they brought Karlach to save her life.

Read More on AO3

[lyramundana]

Coming soon...

Inspired by this and this

Warnings: obsessive behaviours, death, blood, hints of toxic relationships and copying mechanisms, yandere tendencies, stalking, threats, blackmail, dubious consent (more to add)

Taglist: @channieandhisgoonsquad @2chopsticks2eyes @sweetracha @moonlightndaydreams @queenmea604 @noellllslut @linlinaert @mal-lunar-28

Just a little something that popped into my mind. Should I elaborate or...?

[bl-inkstone]

changed my tune so fast just bc of youtube autoplay lmao ok here have some sagau diluc thoughts

the player, diluc thinks, is an incredibly endearing being.

he's come a long way from the curt and wary attitude he used to put on around the traveler (and by extension, you), and today is one of those days where he finds himself privately thanking whatever powers there may be that allowed your paths to cross, with him staring at the reflection of you hidden deep within the traveler's eyes in the wake of his fight with the abyss that fateful night in mondstadt.

as one of the first people to have their constellations manifest in the sky of teyvat, diluc is more than aware that the fact that you still choose to ask for his company in your (or, well, the traveler's) journey is a gift he must treasure deeply. he knows that it is your presence in this world that gives vision bearers a chance to become something greater than they presently are. he also knows that he is no longer as impressive of a companion in battle as he used to be from back when the sky wasn't as bright as it is now (when the world you knew was smaller and he was still a figure that you could look to and proudly call "your main").

but you always come back to him. when he least expects it, you invite him back to your party and diluc can't help but privately think, privately wish, that it's because you're as fond of him as he is of you.

standing in silent prayer while you bestow upon him artifacts that thrum with divine power is an experience he can never tire of. the claymores you give him, the food he eats, all the materials he needs to reach a breakthrough in his capabilities... he understands that you aren't teyvat's creator, but this world and everything in it seems to exist just for you. you, the provider, the sustainer, the beloved of all. sometimes, diluc feels that everything he has and ever worked for have all been for the sake of one day meeting you.

he's not a religious man by principle, and he loathes people of absolute power. the only exception to this, however, is you. he's not foolish enough to believe you're some omnipotent, omniscient being that lords above all. no, you're not like that. he knows this because the longer he journeys with the traveler and feels their bond strengthen, the faint whispers he used to strain himself to hear grow clearer and clearer until finally, one day, he hears you.

you're both nothing and everything he thought you'd be. you view the world of teyvat with so much awe and joy that it's infectious, and he finds himself smiling more often than not to the privilege of finally hearing you. the traveler always looks at him with an understanding smile when diluc slows down in their travels to listen to you. he lives for the moments when you talk to yourself or to someone else (a companion of your own, maybe? from your place beyond the stars?) because this is how he learns. your favorite food, your favorite nations, your favorite "characters" and more. he holds every morsel of information you unknowingly give close to his chest where all his affections and wishes hide. he likes to think that this way, he can be closer and better for you.

but he knows he's not the only one who hears you, and it is the traveler that is closest to you out of all them. even so, diluc harbors no ill will to the avatar you chose to see and travel the world through. you're so fond of the traveler, and how could he ever come to loathe anything graced by your love?

he knows how to play nice. it helps that most of your other chosen are people he can find himself enjoying the company of as well. diluc understands that as much as he wants to be the sole holder of your attention, the world does not function that way. he's willing to extend an olive branch so long as they can all work together to keep you present in teyvat. he can worry about his more aggressive competition later when they aren't at risk of being caught in such an unsightly state by you — all that matters to him, right now, is how to keep your gaze on him for just a little longer and keep you from leaving him again.

it's a daunting thing to be so close to your grace. you take diluc to lands he'd never thought he'd visit again, to ruins of civilizations long past, domains with unimaginable horrors and have him run, claymore and vision burning at his hip, into fight after fight at your command. it's tiring at best and painful at worst, but you always take care to heal him and his companions before leaving, and you always lead them somewhere safe to rest until teyvat brightens and you come again.

his current companions (his "supports", he inwardly preens) rest and talk amongst themselves once they feel your presence leave. it used to be something they, your chosen, would panic over, but now that they've gotten more used to you and all the signs that pointed that yes, this is your will, they've grown to be able to tolerate the harrowing chill that comes when your warmth leaves them. diluc leans back on his chair in front of good hunter to observe them. they're all people he's come to grow fond of in time: diona was prickly, yes, but ha become pleasant to be around once they grew past their misunderstandings. the young master of the feiyun commerce guild, xingqiu, was also a reliable companion both in and outside of battle, and for all his faults, venti has proven himself to be a devout believer, unwilling to be a burden to you or the party you've guided him towards.

under normal circumstances, he never would've met and forged such strong bonds with these people. if not for your own interference, he never would've bothered getting to know any of them at all. though he may have his own gripes and complaints at times of how their dynamic works when you're not around, diluc is still fond of them. he's grateful for the opportunity to grow close to people again, and traveling the world alongside them and the traveler has become one of the few things he's begun to look forward to outside of his duties as "diluc, master of dawn winery." when the day is done and he can sit and relax with them in the tables in front of good hunter, he can rest in the company of others who understand the near-maddening pull in his chest that draws him to try and get closer, closer, to you.

it's days like these where diluc quietly thanks whatever it is brought you to them, and prays that one day, he will no longer have to search through the traveler's eyes to see you.

[stealingyourbones]

hey Bones, figured I would give some feedback on your comic-inspired prompt idea. Personally I find the text on the page/image pretty hard to read, as opposed to a 'plain text' prompt, which made me scroll past it a few times before I could sit down to try reading it properly (w/ zoom and better screen contrast). I might not be the only one, either. Maybe copying down (part of) the text into the description/into an alt text would help? I do think it's a very interesting idea, especially in a crossover fandom like DCxDP, where canon often falls to the side, to use canon material as basis for prompts.

!!! Dude dude dude I so appreciate the feedback. Okokok. Make the image clearer, image captions, and the point I’m chatting about in the prompt emphasized.

[mynonah]

[sundogsandrainbows]

Of Elves And Humans: Redux, Chapter 54 &55: Heroes And Villains, Part I & II

[QUICK LINK TO THE CHAPTER UPDATE PART I AND PART II]

STORY SUMMARY: Trust is a delicate flower that needs to get nurtured and time to grow. Even more so love. A tale of two disparate Wardens forced together, of finding a way to overcome the distrust, and their own painful past in the time of the Blight. Very in-depth, character-focused exploration of the Dalish origin/warden, of all DA:O companions, and their relationship dynamics during the Fifth Blight. Follows and expands on canon events; AU in some ways. Multiple POV's, origins, and pairings. Slow burn af. 360k of Aliwarden Blight fic goodness, thus far. 2 treaties done, 1 and a half (Urn) and a lot of DLC content to go.

CHAPTERS SUMMARY: Having to wait out a snow storm in an abandoned tavern offers the Wardens and their companions a lot of opportunity for reflection of things past and present, and to reinforce old bonds while forging new ones.

Calm before the storm chapter with loads of character interactions, humor, banter and also conflicts and regrets. And yes, this is the same abandoned tavern you visit in DA:I aka, "The Rusted Horn" where they found refuge from the snow storm. The plot of Crestwood will also have relevance in the chapter, however briefly. But imo it fitted better in here with the Blight fresh and ongoing than to let no one find out what really happened to the refugees for ten frikkin years, ugh. Enjoy?

READ IT HERE || [OR READ FROM THE BEGINNING]

[lettersregardingjeeves]

So Mr. Wooster contacted me recently to let me know that he's awfully braced about adding some of the original illustrations he got when he published his stories in magazines, but he's got a dilemma about the image descriptions and hasn't the foggiest idea how to solve it. And as his secretary, I would like to ask a question on his behalf.