#lava lamp sweep

[moon-drop-grape]

i take back all of my doubts about chaos sonic, i fucking LOVE this dumbass lava lamp

[bluejaybytes]

[nihildenial]

On the Nose by nihil-denial (wc: 1,465)

Pairings: Special Ghoul & Copia's Rats

Rating: Gen

Tags: Fluff, No hurt, Animal love, Copia's rats, Rigatoni the Rat

Summary: Special Ghoul believes he won't enjoy pet-sitting Papa Emeritus IV's twelve pet rats. Perhaps he shouldn't make assumptions that quickly.

It’s difficult to continue daily tasks in a quiet Ministry. Special Ghoul’s routine of sweeping, paperwork, and media management was typically easy because of the flurry of activity that kept distracting him. However, with Papa Emeritus IV, the Ghouls, and Papa Nihil out on tour, Phil was left in charge of most of the ghoul’s daily chores. The Siblings stepped up for a lot of it, much to his relief. 

So, that meant he could keep his normal schedule of document reviewing, instgram and email wrangling, sweeping…and now, rat babysitting. He wasn’t looking forward to starting that task today. Rats were considered pests in New York City, only an hour’s drive from the Ministry. Sure, the Rats song was fun to shoot and the cartoon stickers Copia handed out were cute, but the real animals were probably a mess of dirty vermin that the man has managed to look past to find something adorable in.

He probably would get dirt all in his tunic. 

Special Ghoul straightened his belt and hung his mask by his fascia as he neared Papa Copia’s room. He closed his deep amber eyes and took a deep, settling breath before he pushed through the heavy velvet curtains. 

He feels for the light switch, jumping when it triggers the large lava lamp on the side table. “Fucking hell,” he mutters and continues through the small living area to the bedroom. He switches on the overhead lights and sighs at the large metal structure taking up the entirety of the right wall. 

Special stares at it then looks to where he presumes the Anti-Pope sleeps. It’s a twin mattress on the floor, pushed up against the middle wall. The fire Ghoul knows that the man’s coffers are more than full enough for a nice bedroom set. They’re satan worshippers for fuck’s sake; Special needs to convince the man to put his selfish wants first for once. 

Special sets the several bags of things on the neatly tucked bed. A packet of paper is sitting innocently on the Star Wars pillow. 

He then walks to the floor-to-ceiling cage and comes eye-to-eye with the rodents Copia so dearly loves. Special flips to the first page (it’s a motherfucking table of contents) and then the next, which has a picture and description of each of the twelve pet rats. 

Alfredo

Allegro

Buccatini

Crescendo

Farfalle

Gemelli

Gemini

Legato

Minestra

Opus

Rigatoni

Toccata

A star sticker was placed next to Rigatoni’s picture, designating him as Copia’s ‘heart rat’ or whatever that meant. Phil closes the packet and sets it aside. He toes off his shoes outside of the baby crates that surround the cage and carefully steps inside, trying not to step on any of the toys. 

Squeaks of all pitches meet his ears. He finally looks up to meet the excited gazes of the rats. They’re squirming, jumping, wrestling and going between the many different levels of the cage. A bunch of them gather on the floor nearest his face. There’s little dirt or visible poop on the colorful blankets and dig box. In fact, the longer he stands there, he notices how they use their tiny arms to lick and wash their faces and bodies.

“Why are you all actually cute?” He asks quietly as a pink nose pushes between the thin bars of the enclosure. He boops it gently. “I can’t let Papa know he was right.”

The black and white rodent jumps away from the bars, scurries up onto one of the hanging hammocks, then bounces back to press against the bars. It repeats it when Special touches the pink nose again.

Oh, it wants to play. 

“Okay, okay, let me make sure this is secure before I let all of you out.” He checks the corners of the playpen, fills the thin bowl with water and most of the frozen peas and carrots, then steps back up to the cage. The latch on the bottom area is simple. 

As soon as the doors are open, the rats are eagerly scurrying down the short ramp to the cushioned floor. Copia’s instructions say he can let them go by themselves for a bit, so he steps out to observe them.

Special watches their fuzzy, avocado-shaped bodies move with such a feeling of excitement that he finds himself smiling down at them. Geez, he’s turning soft. 

A large, golden rat pauses in its place at the platter of peas and pellets to stare up at him. It crawls around its packmates and tries to jump onto the playgate. Surprisingly it makes it almost to the top. Special falls to his knees and grabs the rodent to keep it from escaping. 

The animal is squishy, warm, and wiggly. It calms as it relaxes in the radiant warmth of his palm, closing its beady but cute black eyes. According to the papers, this is Rigatoni, a special rat. 

Special ghoul carefully pets the rat’s head with a finger. When the rat relaxes more, he caresses the animal’s pudgy body. 

It’s calming. Special is holding a tiny life in his hands, and is being trusted unconditionally . He’s a scrappy fire ghoul meant to fight in the pits of Hell and this little creature finds something good enough in him to relax. He has to wipe the hot tears from his eyes with the sleeve of his tunic. 

“Hello, Rigatoni,” he croaks. 

The rat opens its eyes and stretches its delicate pink arms and legs, climbing up his arm to sit on his shoulder. 

Special has seen Copia walking around with a few of the rodents like this. Sometimes he even puts a basket on his stupid tricycle for several rats to ride around in. 

More of the rats have finished fishing for peas to hop at the gate to gain his attention. He reaches down and picks up one of the docile black and white ones. Allegro paws at the embroidered ghoul symbols. 

“Yes, I’m a ghoul,” he answers the rat.

He has to put the rat back down when it tries chewing off the patch. “No, no. No nibbling off my patches. I know it was a few of you little shits that did that to Papa’s favorite pants.”

He tries to look at them sternly, but their tiny, curious faces make it extremely difficult. Special reads a few more pages of Copia’s instructions. 

“You guys want some treats?” He says and laughs at the eager frenzy that causes. He presses the rectangular bits of sweet potato, peas, and walnut pieces in the different balls, snuffle mats, and hammocks. 

Rigatoni crawls down his arm to hop back into the playpen to join the search for treats. When he tries to take one of the balls to put more treats in, Toccata grabs it and starts an impromptu tug-of-war. When Phil carefully tosses it in, the grey rat pushes it around with it’s pink nose like a dog. 

-

“Have you seen Special Ghoul?” Sister Gwenyth pokes her head into the Siblings’ communal kitchen.

Brother Ezra shakes his head from where he’s stirring in a large pot. “Not since this morning. He said he was going to feed Papa’s rats.”

She purses her lips and looks to the few other Siblings in the kitchen. All of them give her equally unhelpful answers. She turns and heads back out into the cloister, checking the empty Ghoul crypt once more. She goes back upstairs to the main level and heads towards the papal wing. 

She tries not to think too hard about the empty bedrooms as she passes them. She stops outside the curtain, a line of light spilling from under the doorway. “Phil?” She calls.

When she gets no answer, she cautiously steps inside. The living room is empty, so she moves on.

The bed is filled with the Ghoul’s duffel bag and discarded silver mask. She looks over the edge of the playpen by the open rat cage (not seeing any rats or squeaks, which makes her panic) and sees the most adorable sight.

Special Ghoul, asleep in the middle of the large space, with twelve rats snuggling in the junctions of his neck and on top of his chest. He looks so peaceful, his sharp, charcoal grey features relaxed. The rats on his chest are snuggling under one of his hands, their tails sticking out from his fingers. In the crook of his neck is a bunch of curled up rodent noses pressed against each other and moving with their breaths. 

She has to physically restrain herself from making noise. Gwenyth frantically captures the moment with her phone and sends it to Copia. She checks that all of them are indeed breathing and snaps another picture before leaving them alone. The tax documents can wait until tomorrow.

[vraisetzen]

Hello! May I request a short fic or hcs, not directly connected to your long fic, on obsessive/possesive, yandere stalker!au Kokushibo and female reader whose naturally charming & tends to flirt and tease anyone around her to no end😭 (can be both sfw and nsfw, since I don’t think Koku would appreciate his dearest giving away her attention to anyone but him~)

I tried to send a similar request before but it didn’t let me for some reason ;(

𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑶𝒏𝒆 𝑳𝒐𝒐𝒌 — 𝑨 𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒆!𝑲𝒐𝒌𝒖𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒃𝒐 𝒙 ����𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝑰𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒕

Author's Note: Thank you for the lovely ask! I actually received two requests for Yandere!Kokushibo; this is my first time writing a yandere fic, and I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it!

Tags: NSFW, 18+, Smut, Stalking, Obsession, Mentions of death and violence, Yandere!Kokushibo, No use of (Y/N).

Summary: The light in your eyes was both fire and ice to him.

No one could fault a man for being too good at his metier, and as a bodyguard to one of Japan's most prominent politicians, Kokushibo had spent years honing his craft — disposing unwanted rivals, eliminating bothersome targets, ensuring the safety of his charges.

His hands grazed along the small of your back, playing you as a harp while you sang his name in pleasure. You, pinned to the floor as Kokushibo plunged into your depths, relishing every pulsating heat that enveloped his length — you must know, by now, how he worshipped at the altar of your body, your very existence the only thing he ever desired.

"M-more, please," you wailed, looking back and regaling him with the sight of your parted lips and flushed cheeks. "I need more-"

And there it was: the glittering stars in your eyes, just like the very first time you caught Kokushibo's attention — a supernova in a sea of lesser constellations that seared forever into his memory.

The only problem was that the light of the stars graced everything in its vicinity without prejudice.

The curl of your lips that you gave easily to your colleagues as you asked them about their weekend; the radiating heat of your body when you sat next to them and leaned in every so slightly; the tendril of your hair around your finger as you listened to a neighbour's complaints with a soft pout; the perfume on your skin that lingered for hours in a room after you made your leave, capturing the attention of those caught in its haze.

He could not stand the fleeting moments when you cast your eyes on another; the biting, Siberian frost that sawed into his bones, casting a mantle over the lava that burnt and ripped away in his guts as he saw you flounce from friend to colleague to acquaintance, speaking to them with a tenderness that should never be heard by anyone by himself.

Fire and ice — the twin spears that plunged through his faculties of reason and instinct, tearing him apart at the seams even as he betrayed nothing on his steely surface.

Kokushibo was nothing if not methodical, and he needed no grand gestures, no dramatic declarations of affection: an orchestrated encounter at a cafe when you stumbled into him and spilt coffee all over his shirt, a rehearsed rendezvous at the laundromat where he had the perfect amount of spare change while you scraped along the bottom of your purse.

The draping of a cloak of chivalry around your shoulders, pulling the wool over your eyes in one fell sweep of his hand — the back of which noted every detail of routine — as you traipsed gaily over the daisies outside the lion's lair.

After all, to be blind meant devoting oneself utterly to the hand that guided it through the dark, and now that he had lent you an inch, you were more than willing to present him with a mile:

Your breathless moans as he pinched your pert nipples, your essence that lavished over his cock. You were resplendent as the beads of sweat that rolled down your shoulder caught the glare of the lamp, the curve of your back vulpine and graceful as you raised your hip to meet his thrusts.

Would you be blind too, to your diminishing satellite of admirers? Kokushibo cautioned you as much about their hidden intentions: Don't give your number away so easily; don't wear that dress; call me when you get home — he knew worst of the men who would mistake your smiles for affection, your teases for flirtations, and your touches an invitation in his line of work, and he need only to defer to his experise.

As a consummate professional, only he could protect you from these dangers that lie in wait. He could stopper it before they took you away from him, and you would never notice they were there.

The crimson that soaked Kokushibo's hands and crusted his nails, the same hands that now dug into the dimples on the side of your hips as he thrusted further inside your sex;

A flick of his wrist on your clit — the same rhythm as when he snapped the spine of the konbini cashier who you dared share your smile after you made your payment;

The tug of your hair around his fingers — reminiscent of the fibre wire that coiled around the neck of a older salaryman to whom you had been kind enough to offer your seat on the train;

The give of your thighs as he spread your legs further apart — a mirror of his hands on the back of a waiter who smiled as you complemented the tiramisu, his eyes lingering on your glossed, pillowy lips;

Would the wetness between your legs should be enough to wash off these stains?

"Kokushibo," you whimpered, in the moment he brushed against that spot inside you, making you squirm beneath his tight embrace. Your mouth dropped in a circle as he teased your clit once more, sending sparks of thrill dancing across your tense, quivering frame.

How perfectly he fitted inside you, the contours of your body moulding seamlessly against his hands — as if the gods themselves sculpted you for him to hold and possess.

Kokushibo slipped an arm across your front, tossing you to lie flat against the carpet. Red, crescent marks dotted across your collarbone, with others blooming into scarlet flowers where he had sunk his teeth into your softness — the sweet ambrosia of your arousal when drank from your sex, the tenderness your skin as it broke beneath his canines.

Come morning, when those blossoms have withered into violet bruises, you will never know another's man touch on you; Kokushibo will make sure of it himself. He would hide you away from the harshness of this world, and savour every inch of your body with his hands and mouth — as the French did with the caged ortolan, draping their heads with linen to shield their decadence from the judgment of God.

Why would you need to be anywhere else? Or seek the arms of another? He alone was perfect for you, as you were perfect from him.

Your ankles crossed behind his neck, unspoken bliss wild in your dark irises. The cadence of your moans soared as your nails clung to the broad sweep of his back, the pistol of your loins gaining an impatient edge.

"Don't stop," you cajoled, a whimper caught in a hiccup as Kokushibo felt you tense beneath him, your thighs trapping his face in a serpentine coil. The slick heat of your sex enveloped his cock tightly while you reached your climax to shuddering gasps, biting the back of your hand to hide your unrestrained moans.

And there it was once more: the sparkle in your eyes, brighter than before while you rode out your high. The heat of your gaze, together with clenching of your walls was enough for him to spill, too, in a mess of groans buried into your hair. You shivered at the dousing of his cum in your depths, your pleasures mired in a dripping, obscene mess that seeped from your entrance.

Behind closed lids, Kokushibo could behold the afterimages of your torched gaze, and he would do whatever it takes to keep them there, until it became a part of the inferno that raged unabated inside him, stoked by every single distraction you referred your attentions: friends, family, strangers — as he opened his eyes to look down at you, before kissing you.

He would have it — your heart, body, and soul — until nothing remained for anyone else, not even yourself.

"All mine," he whispered against your lips.

For my longer writings, visit my AO3 here.

[ashmyself]

Wakey wakey, new character dropped (old actually lol)

Remember this man I posted on reddit decades ago ?

Yeah so like- that was cringe right ?

well I remade him

But better

Meet Jonath, you can ask him questions too now :3 (lore below 👇)

He's Jacob's twin brother and he works for minimum wage in some random ahh french restaurant

Basically he died 5 years ago but somebody in the cult wanted to revive him so he could join them, so that's what the cult did; they kinda failed since it turns out he's got some werid ferrofluid tentacles inside his body now and he basically used that to his advantage to run away from the cult and go at a friend's house and the cult sent Hety and the one person who wanted him in the cult to go get him inside of his friend's home, except some tall ass lady also living here sweeped them and called the police so they both got sent to prison and a year later Jonath decided that he was probably safe enough from the cult and now he's just trying to be a normal functioning member of society. he covers most of his body so people can't look at all the marks and ferrofluid drips, speaking of drips, he also often drools/nosebleeds ferrofluid, for some reason

Also he likes green.

And most importantly he's as much of a twinky gayass as Jackie (I just love gay people💜🏳️‍🌈)

And y'know how I like to turn OCs from my original universe into fandom OCs ? Yeah well he's just tragiboxified Alex, didn't name him Alex to dissociate him from the original and also because there's already a canon guy named Alex (lava lamp dude)

That's OG Alex btw 👇

[lizzisimss]

Gonzales Family Home

CC used (list below) Garden Essence in Willow Creek 40 x 30 8 bed, 3 bath $276,606

This build is part of the Lizzisimss Save File.

Aira – https://www.patreon.com/airacc

Birdie lamp

Frog incense

Froggy cushion

Ghibli clay 2

Ghibli painting

Heart night lamp

Mushroom plant

Tablet PC

Toast light

Vanilla flower candle

Vanilla recipe book

Woodenland bear holder

ATS4 – https://www.patreon.com/aroundthesims

Kitchenrack condiments

Kitchenrack utsensils

Brazenlotus - https://www.patreon.com/BrazenLotus

The trouble with plants

Whatever you want

Steezy Skis

Heavy Metal Shelf

Clean sweep

Laundry Made Essentials

charly pancakes - https://www.patreon.com/charlypancakes

The Lighthouse Collection merged

Diaper days

Dinna merged

Lavish Merged

M & S Constructions part I merged

Miscellanea Merged

Modish Merged

Munch merged

Smol merged

Soak merged

Tarot posters simblreen treat 1 2020

Felixandre – https://www.patreon.com/felixandre

Fayun part 2 and 2

Georgian set

Gothic revival interior

London exterior

Greellamas – https://www.patreon.com/greenllamas

KERV

house of harlix - https://www.houseofharlix.com

Orjanic

Bafroom

Baysic Bafroom Merged

Baysic Merged

Harluxe Merged

Jardane

Livin’Rum Merged

The Kichen

Tiny Twavellers Merged

harrie - https://www.patreon.com/heyharrie

Brownstone collection complete merged

Brownstone collection part 1 & 2 merged

Brutalist bathroom

Country collection

Octave part 1, 3 and 4 merged

Porto

Shop the look

Spoons part 1

Stockholm

Kiwisim - https://www.patreon.com/Kiwisim4

Blockhouse

Piha

KKB – https://www.patreon.com/user?u=15789815

Citrus Room

KARLSTAD kitchen

leaf motif - https://leaf-motif.tumblr.com

2202 Magnolia Bathroom

Aubrey office

Basil chair

Botanic boudoir

Calliope bathroom

Devon kitchen

Floret grove

Heirloom kitchen

Ivy hallway

Keller bedroom

Little ceramics

Old hat

Simblreen 2021

Starlight crystals

Sunbeam study

Sunny corner

Twee tablewar

Winter village

Patron gift 1, 2, 5 and 7

Lilis-palace – https://www.patreon.com/lilis_palace

Folklore set off the grid

Littlecakes – https://litttlecakes.tumblr.com/downloadspage

Record Player

I want to believe poster

Twinkly lights

littledica - https://www.patreon.com/littledica

Deligracy merged cottage living update

Countryside cabin merged

Eco kitchen stuff pack merged

Greasy goods merged

Lava lamp merged

Modern rocking chair

Sleek slumber stuff pack merged

Roman holiday merged

Sweet treats merged

Deligracy delicato stuff pack

MadameRia – https://www.patreon.com/MadameRia

Lucky Man Folded Shirts Override

Madlen – https://www.patreon.com/madlen

Kei first aid

Kei plushie

Brizo soap dispenser

Lorens painting

Numi backpack decor

Marvell –https://marvell-world.tumblr.com/download

KC Salt & Pepper

Upcycle books

max 20 - https://www.patreon.com/Max20

Master bedroom

Child dream kit

Classic kitchen

Garden at Home

Poolside lounge

Mechtasims - https://www.patreon.com/mechtasims

Back to School Calendar

Bathroom set

Cyber girl

Desk planner

Essential Clutter

Groovy baby

Wiccan set

Mlys – https://mlyssimblr.tumblr.com/cc-catalog

Pufferhead

Computer emook

Computer mookbook

Deco deskop globe

Mycupofcc –

Colour talk dining stuff

Colour talk kitchen merged

Colour talk livingrm merged

Maple manor the modernist collection living rm

August 2021

Tiny dreamers merged

myshunosun - https://www.patreon.com/myshunosun

Garden stories

Nora living

Riikka

The art room

Zephyr office

Arrie office

Daria bedroom

Dawn abstract

Dawn living

Gale dining

Lottie décor

Moonwood garden

Simmify instant camera

Herbalist kitchen

Simmify part 2

Vanity nook

Networksims - https://www.thesimsresource.com/members/networksims

Max brick floor

Veronique wallpaper

ONI – https://www.patreon.com/oni28

Artist’s old workroom

Kitchen peg board shelf long

peacemaker - https://peacemaker-ic.tumblr.com/TS4O...

Atwood Living

Cozy knits bedding

Creta kitchen

Elsie bedroom

Essa kitchen

Futura merged

Hamptons retreat merged

Hinterlands bedroom

Hinterlands living

Hudson bathroom

Kitayama dining merged

Kitayama living merged

Mid-century eclectic merged

Mina kitchen merged

Moku seating

Phoebe sofa suite

Roarsome kids bedroom merged

Seasons build mode expanded

Strangeville build mod add on

Vara office

Bowed

pierisim - https://www.patreon.com/pierisim

Calderone bedroom

MCM part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4 and part 5 merged

Oakhouse part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 merged

The office mini kit

Tidying up

Auntie vera bathroom merged

Coldbrew coffeeshop

Domaine du clos part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4 merged

Living room mini kit

Winter garden part 2

Puffersuffer – https://www.patreon.com/puffersuffer

8 pack holiday penguin

19 pack cute cookies

RVSN – https://ravasheen.com/downloads/

Art attack

Smarts content

simplisticsims - http://simplisticsims4.com

Art van gogh

Chinoiserie round rug

Cottage roman curtain

Crafter shelf

RH bottom bunk

RHshadeB

RHshadeC

RH wall art square DH

Round jute rugs

Rustic rug

Taisho merged all

Vintage country art llb

sixamcc - https://imfromsixam.tumblr.com/

Breeze of Greece

Oak&Concrete Kit merged

Artiu

Artz

Home basics

Home Improvement

Home office

Hotel bedroom

Kids room

Luxbath

Retro vibes

Small Spaces

Teen Room

Soolani –https://www.patreon.com/soolani

Iconic album art

SurelySims – https://www.patreon.com/surelysims

KoT Build Floor Lino V4

Fallout baby

SYB – https://www.patreon.com/Syboubou

Bonbon

Galileo

Julie

Laundry

Nathalie

TaurusDesign – https://www.patreon.com/taurusdesign

Cassandra Bathroom

Dina Dining Room

Eliza Walk In Closet

Elsa Kids Room

Jade Build

Lilith Chilling Areas p1 merged

Clutter Cat - https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/thec...

Busy bee 2

Busy bee

Cozy cocina

KawaiiKidz

MellowMini

MellowMoods

PetitsPirates

Xfest22

TUDS -https://www.patreon.com/TudTuds

2nd wave mergedpat

Beam parte2 v01 mergd

Cross merged

Ema dining room v02 merged

Wave merged

Awingedllama – https://www.patreon.com/awingedllama

Apartment therapy inspired stuff v2 merged

Blooming rooms plants merged

Tray files are available on my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/lizzisimss

Please consider supporting if you wish :)

[completeoveranalysis]

[5]

I love the echo of previous plot elements here with Lava Lamp has black eyes at first, unresponsive to what she says, only one eye visible, and then once he hears Sakura’s name he snaps to consciousness with clear white eyes again. 

Meanwhile Yuuko sweeps in wearing a kimono covered in Spider Lillies and YUUKO PLEASE. The death imagery is too much. That hasn’t even been resolved yet. 

[kinetic-elaboration]

August 3: Octaven, Tattoo

AU-August Day 3, Tattoo

~900 words

Raven/Octavia, modern AU

What business I had writing this at this hour, idk. I took this long nap after work and had very intense dreams and it was super discombobulating...anyway. I know nothing about... anything in here so shhhh you don't see any inaccuracies.

*

Raven has never been in the tattoo parlor after dark. All of the lights, beneath their wide metallic brims, are off now, except for one. It leaves an unfocused triangular sheen, soft-yellow and slick, against the deep red of the walls. The sleek leather chairs and tables hunch as deep shadows, the lines of artwork on the display wall now all frame, dulled gray rectangles and squares. The lava lamp on the corner table still glows, hypnotic red jelly shapes floating, luminous.

Plaintive guitar is playing over an unseen speaker.

The shop's closed up, the neon OPEN sign no longer crackling red in the window, but the door's still unlocked. Raven closes it softly behind her, listens to the jarring shiver of the glass and rustle of the closed Venetian blinds as it shoves back into place. Her shoes squeak on the clean black-and-white tiled floor.

For a while, she stands in the middle of the room, past the front desk, staring at the sharp, bent angles of the metal stool left sitting by one of the chairs, and the high reach of the bright lamp next to it, now just a gray circle set into a gray frame, and at the lava lamp again, and thinking.

The first time she came to the shop, she stared at that lamp a long time, letting it hypnotize her. Letting herself dissociate from her own body, and it wasn't about the pain, but about the aura of the place and its intimacy, and about something of the enormity of the moment, too. She'd decided to get a tattoo that intersected with her scar. Something to really mark it, to own it—this ugly raised line of bleached scar tissue on her leg, this way she is marred now and always will be. Because it was fine for Finn to tell her that's not how it is. It wasn't his leg and it wasn't his skin. And it was fine to tell herself that at least she was walking again, with the brace. And it was fine, it was fine, it was fine, except for the weighty feeling of powerlessness she carried around with her all the time, the vertiginous loss of control that—and no one ever warned her it would be this way—was not just the short flashing moments of the accident, but uncountable random and terrifying moments ever since.

So she told herself she'd own it and she'd get the tattoo. A pattern of stars, not over the scar but around it, integrated with it: she's still as vast as the universe, still a part of the heavens.

The scar stretches up high along her leg. The process of sitting for the tattoo, then, of twisting just so, the long expanse of her leg and thigh exposed, was so much more intimate than she'd expected. The walls of the long, low rectangular room were so exquisitely red. The ceiling fans, between the lights, bumped to the rhythm of their own breeze, and there was music that day too, but quieter and tinny. Sometimes barely audible beneath the whir of the machine.

The occasional, clinical touch of gloved hands against her bare skin.

Like therapists, Raven thought, perhaps tattoo artists must deal with transference: how she put all her anxieties and hopes into that touch, and into the steady way Octavia Blake watched her as she sketched out her vision of the constellations, and into the sweeping promise of her own tattoos, slashed black lines along her arm that read like anger painstakingly controlled.

Octavia is in the backroom now, fiddling with the papers on her disorganized desk. Raven can hear the sounds beneath the sweeping, melancholy guitar slide, can picture her back there in the cramped and the dark, looking for her keys.

When the door opens, she's holding them tight in her fist, pushing her hair out of her face with her free hand. She catches sight of Raven, stops for a moment, mid-gesture, and narrows her eyes. "We're closed," she says. But she doesn't keep walking.

"I wanted to talk."

Octavia doesn't answer and she still doesn't move. All the way at the front of the shop, a single car passes by on the lonely night-street, bleeding headlight glow through the blinds.

"To apologize."

Octavia sticks her keys into the pocket of her jeans and crosses her arms. Raven saw a picture of her once at fifteen, a petulant teenager with a cut above her eye and a bruise on her arm, and she sees in the grown woman in front of her now something of the ghost of that girl.

"I'm closing up," she says finally, grudgingly. Because of course she doesn't want to have this conversation in the shadowy shop, burned out neon and leather and silver and ink, and mournful blues notes on the sound system she still hasn't shut off. Raven doesn't want to have it here, either. She's standing just at the edge of the still-lit lamp, there at the outer rim of a spotlight. And she's thinking about Octavia's hands on her, the way she slings her arm around Raven's waist and the way she kisses, like burning, and the way she asked, unaccountably, for permission to touch her own work and the clean, pale ridge of scar beneath. And about how Raven herself is so fucking good at pushing people away. Dissociating away from vulnerability and need.

"Please," Raven says and it's ragged. It's ripped from her.

Octavia takes a deep breath, lets it out, and concedes: "Okay." Then she turns off the last of the lights and the music, so only the deepest lines of shadow are still left, and ushers Raven out the door first.

[barin-mclegg]

LAVA LAMP SWEEP!!!

Fireplace added.

I also took this opportunity to remove the default lighting.

What's next...

[rainbow-kewpie-star-2003]

I cleaned my desk! :3

I also turned on my lava lamp so I can watch the bubbles move around!

Now I have to...

Pick dirty clothes up off floor

Sweep floor

Wash bedding

Make bed

Put away clean clothes

Shower

[roll-a-troll]

Name: Miss Pyrepo Xannax Ancestor: The Suzerain Strife Specibus: jumpropekind Blood Color and Sign: Jade; Virsci Handle: conjugalAmateur Lusus: catma Pronouns: he/him Age: 16 sweeps Interests: tarot and roller skating Sexuality: asexual Class: Rogue Land: Land of Lamps and Haze, a bad place, with serpentine Arabian cobra consorts. It is a place full of lava and webs. Echidna lurks in this land's windchimes. Quirk: use 0's where your O's should be via roll-a-troll https://ift.tt/WrexdP4, do as you please

[smalls-words]

Always More

Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Agent!Reader

just a little hurt/comfort blurb for my favourite sokovian witch :)

You were tired. By the gods, you were so, so tired. Every movement made you feel like you were Atlas, the weight of the world taking a heavy toll on your body.

You had barely managed to get to work, and then everything turned to absolute shit, especially when you had SHIELD trainees acting up and causing a ruckus your tired mind just couldn’t handle.

“Draga? (Darling?)” Wanda called out in the empty apartment as she heard the door open and shut. 

When you didn’t respond, she checked her phone. You should still be at work, but if that was you, you were home three hours early. With a soft ball of energy swirling in her hand, she crept around the side and kept it to her hip, much like you did with a gun on missions. 

The silhouette of your body, lit by the moonlight, was enough for her to cease her magic and move towards you. But the sounds of your long breaths confused her - you made these sounds when you were just about to sleep.

“Honey?” She asked carefully again, noticing how unfocused your mind was.

“Mmm…” You mumbled, your bag falling down your arm in jolted movements before it came to a stop at the ground.

Wanda reacted quickly as your knees gave out from underneath you, catching you easily in her arms whilst sweeping you into a bridal hold. She didn’t say much as she led you to the bathroom, her magic shimmering down you like a cascading waterfall to remove your clothes and put them in the wash.

She laid you down in the warm water, the pool consuming every ache in your body, and it felt like a warm blanket was being pulled over every skin cell you had. You sighed into it and Wanda’s magic kept your head above water, allowing you to relax in the easiest way possible.

She called a pillow to her knees and knelt beside you, her hand swirling lightly in the water and giving brief touches to your thigh. She brushed over a few scars lovingly, knowing that a few of them had been to protect her from a stray bullet or piece of shrapnel. 

All of a sudden, tears began to soak into the water. Wanda’s eyes drifted to your tears and let them fall, knowing this was the release of pressure you needed. You cried for a good five minutes before Wanda pulled you out of the bath, wrapping you up in a warm fluffy towel as she guided you to your room.

Soon enough, your cries began to calm down. She dressed you silently, giving you kisses on your cheeks, nose and lips briefly after each item of clothing. Then, she climbed in and a wave of her hand had the lights in the house turn off, except for the lava lamp on your nightstand. 

She pulled you under the sheets before tucking you underneath her chin, her power so great that all she had to do was hold you and you’d melt into her. 

However, your mind was against you tonight, as it was whenever you were this tired. It seeped through the cracks of your foundation, pulling away key pillars to force your carefully-placed structure of emotions to crumble like a tower of cards. 

“I love you.” Wanda murmured.

“I love you too.” You answered just as softly.

She shook her head and pulled your chin up to look at her. “No, I don’t think you understand. I love you. I love how you make an effort for our date nights. I love how you sometimes have a stutter, making you blush when you can’t get a word out. I love that you aren’t afraid to say what you want to say. I love you, even when your mind tells you I shouldn’t, that I don’t.”

You looked at her with such love in your heart, your lip quivering slightly before you leaned in for a kiss. 

“And I love these eyes. These eyes that seem to have an insatiable thirst for wonder.” She continued, stroking your eyelids lovingly as you closed them briefly.

“And I love this nose. And these lips.” She traced the outer shell of your lips, tickling you slightly.

“I love this jaw and this skin. I love this hair and these ears. I love your arms and your legs. I love your boobs.” She chuckled at the end, making you quickly roll your eyes.

But then she held your chin again and the whole world around you faded away. Nothing else existed but her and you couldn’t help but think that you were just where you needed to be. 

“I love every part of you. You are the one for me, my love. I can’t think of another who could even begin to compare to you.” She spoke against your lips, kissing them sweetly.

You felt more tears prick up and Wanda quickly wiped them away, smiling as you did.

“Yes?”

“I love you. I love you in every universe.” You declared, capturing her lips in a passionate, all-loving kiss.

You felt that heavy weight lift off of your shoulders and you smiled against her lips, pushing for more until you needed air. As you came away, you wrapped her in a tight cuddle and she held you close; one hand on the back of your head and another wrapped tightly around your waist.

“I love you more. Always more.” She replied.

“Good thing the multiverse is infinite.” You quipped, yawning afterwards.

You closed your eyes as her fingertips brushed your forehead, the red shine crowding your vision until you were swallowed whole by the comforting warmth of her magic.

[ailithnight]

Tags from @britcision

.

Jason is just standing there.

Tim is raging in the background, B is holding him back but a part of Jason knows it's only a matter of time before Tim breaks free and starts trying to make good on those threats and a part of Jason feels actually afraid because he doesn't want to die again so he should do something but he can't move.

He's... processing? Maybe. That's the best way he can figure this flood of emotions and information and random snippets of conversation. (Its Tim. Tim asking if he's okay. Tim venting to him. Tim telling him how much he admired Jason as Robin.)

It's like all the time between that warehouse and now is playing back in his mind and everything that Jason should have been experiencing at the time, the pain and the grief and the fear -

I was dead! I died and was dead and I woke up and dug myself out of my grave and it hurt and it was terrifying and I just wanted my dad-

All the emotions the catatonia and then rage prevented him from feeling were sweeping over him. And yet still Jason was experiencing that time twice over as he became aware of a tiny piece of himself that hadn't been there because it was here experiencing its own version of that time, albeit with far less higher function than the rest of Jason.

So Jason was just standing there with tears building behind his eyes and Tim was screaming about Jason having killed Jason with tears in his face and B was holding the baby bird back waring that look on his face where he was experiencing emotions and didn't know what to do with them.

And there was this other feeling in Jason's chest. Like something thick and viscous pulling itself from his heart through his ribs and muscle and skin. An oozing sensation that wasn't pleasant per se but some instinctual part of Jason knew was a good thing that needed to be felt so he could be better.

As minutes dragged by and Jason just stood there, Tim seemed to, well; not calm down, but seemed to realize something was happening here that he didn't understand, which was enough for him to reign in his murderous intent. B seemed to catch on too. And Jason still just stood there, staring dumbly at them while that pulling got stronger and stronger.

Distantly Jason realized his mind wasn't making it up. No, something actually was pulling itself out of him. Like a fuckin chestburster but without any gore. He wanted to look down to make sure, but he couldn't tear his gaze away from Tim Tim Baby Bird Robin Brother. He couldn't look away even as out he felt the thing finally disconnect and come off of him.

He could barely see it out of the corner of his vision. It wasn't anything like Tim's blob that Jason ate for some reason-

Why did I do that and why was it the right thing to do apparently????

Tim's blob had been light in every sense of the word. A vibrant spring green, literally glowing, bobbing in the air like it couldn't stay down. Looking kinda that stuff inside a lava lamp.

This blob was everything wrong where Tim's blob had been everything right. A toxic, sickly, disgusting, familiar green. Almost seeming to suck light and color and vibrancy in. It didn't bob so much as it seemed to have to drag itself up through the air. Eyes blood red, form hazy and dripping.

And it was angry. Glaring at Tim like Tim was everything wrong in the world; like Jason had been doing, feeling, not 10 minutes ago. Jason didn't feel like that any more. But the blob clearly did. It was stalking towards Tim. A deep, unearthly growl emanating from it. Murderous intent in its own blobby eyes.

And then it lunged.

And something new and terrifying and familiar and comforting. Something that was Jason and Robin and lost now returned. It would not let that stand.

The blob barely had 2 seconds of frenzied growling attack before an inhuman growl that Jason would freak out about later erupted from somewhere in his chest. Acting on pure instinct from somewhere Jason can't identify yet, he lunged. Somehow ripped the Lazurus blob off Tim (where B's and Tim's own hands seemed to simply faze through the thing) so fast and so forcefully it seemed to disintegrate in his hands.

Then those hands where moving fretful around Tim, checking for any serious injury, while yet another new instinct dragged yet another new inhuman sound from Jason's chest.

At least for some reason the last of the violent rage in Tim's body seems to drain at the strange series of chirps pouring out of him.

Short DPXDC Prompts #728

A strange green blob keeps following Tim around after the death of the second Robin. He doesn’t know what it wants but it’s real cuddly and fiercely protective.

[completeoveranalysis]

[17]

This is the intentional reversal of every other time Syaoran has had to fight someone and Sakura had to stay behind and rest. 

Guess how much I adore this version better? BECAUSE IT’S A LOT. 

GUYS

BRB CRYING HAPPY TEARS FOREVER

[ncghtshifts]

Unlike Stacy, Rosa didn’t have a shower to blame for the full body flush. She was sure it showed in her chest - could practically feel herself grow hot down to her toes, but her chest and neck had always been a dead giveaway of how she felt when it wasn’t clear on pale, freckled cheeks. Everything about Stacy felt dangerously close to taking that first bite of apple from the garden of Eden, and then some. More than just a temptation but something that genuinely made Rosa feel molten-lava hot, satisfied in the comfort. A heat lamp during a breezier night on a patio. She could barely look at him as he drew closer, his words ringing in her head and leaving her brain working syrupy slow. She wanted to blurt out something just as charming, but Rosa had never been described as such - instead, she so eloquently muttered a gentle shut up, fingers flexing over and over again as they grip onto the book for dear life. There’s a pleased grin on her face and the words have no genuine threat behind them, but for the life of her, Rosa can’t think of anything else to say. She can’t remember the last time she’d been so happy and to-her-core satisfied. Not even straight-forward happy, but like something was slipping easily into place. Completed, as insane as it sounded. A terrifying feat, but she struggled to worry over it right then and there. At the mention of his mother, Rosa’s interest is piqued, glancing back over at him with the reasoning that she had an excuse to now, she was allowed to stare. She had such an inescapable interest in Stacy now, had for a while that was coming to a head, any tidbits on his life felt like a gift - though she was more curious about how she couldn’t read his face and tone as he spoke. Should she prod or sweep it under the rug dutifully? She’d never been one to choose the latter, but this was completely new territory - she actually cared about the outcome and Stacy’s feelings, unlike most of the men she’d begrudgingly humoured in the past.

“Well, not many can do what Sarah Snook can.” Rosa rationalised, raising a teasing brow. There were more thoughts and anecdotes she’d meant to share to get Stacy to keep talking - she’d grown fond of his voice, another thing of him that she felt a bit sick over, so barbarically fond and smitten she was trying to coax more words out of him even if they were nonsensical, Christ who was she - but they came to a screeching halt as he took her bait and granted her affections she’d become accustomed to. And wasn’t that something of its own? Usually such displays would make her skin crawl, face twisting, pinched with distaste. But instead, her heart seemed to break open more and more, cheeks finally catching up with the warmth the rest of her body felt. Rosa felt pathetic, but she couldn’t stop herself even if she wanted to, scooching closer from where she sat on the bed so that she could press against him, uncaring that his skin was still lightly tacky where it hadn’t dried thoroughly. “I like talking to you,” she said, because she didn’t know how to say she wanted to hear anything Stacy had to say, including whatever baggage that was or wasn’t there if he did indulge in stories of his past. And she certainly didn’t know how to say this felt like the biggest compliment she could grace someone, lest she insult Stacy - there’d never be a day where Rosa didn’t struggle speaking to people, no matter how close she got to them, guarded to her very bones. It wasn’t something that could be forgotten over night, so the best way she could express it was by insisting on the opposite. Without much of a second though, she pressed a kiss to Stacy’s shoulder, where a particularly adorable freckle danced in front of her eyes. “You’re so much smarter than I was expecting.” Because that wasn’t insulting - but it wasn’t Stacy’s fault. Rosa didn’t think much when it came to the intelligence of men until they proved her otherwise. “I like hearing what you have to say. No matter what it is.” Hoping she’d said enough without actually saying anything at all, Rosa hesitated. She wanted to kiss him so bad then, but the five minutes they’d spent apart had been enough to give her pause, wondering if suddenly he’d changed during that quick shower and kissing him would’ve been a shock, that Rosa would’ve come across as desperate as she felt. She settled for his cheek instead, because that didn’t feel like nearly as much of a risk, before giving Stacy a sturdy nod. “Let me make something - what do you have lying about? I can make these cinnamon chocolate chip pancakes with nutella… Stacy, seriously. I try to stay humble but it’s, like, hard when I know they’re probably gonna be the best thing you’ve ever tried.” She really did like to cook, but it’d been a lame excuse in the hopes that it’d deter any thoughts of leaving to grab something before they started. Rosa wasn’t ready to leave their bubble just yet.

cont. @ncghtshifts

“would it be cheeky of me to say I wanted to hurry back to you?” a confession teasingly phrased through a fond grin and stacy should thank their luckiest stars his skin is already flush from the heated water beating down on him some minutes ago, having took to a shower as part-routine and to give her some time and room to settle in for the morning without his, surely, suffocating affections - little intimacies they’ve allowed each other; withheld and yet, simple physicality that both ache (deliciously so) and soothe (deliriously so). something wholly new to stacy love saller; keeps him. present. grounded. gentle-minded. nothing went beyond the touch of his shoulders, the brush over freckled cheeks, a million and one endless kiss and the comfortable dip in his bed and yet, it was everything he'd ever craved; it all felt rather monumental with rosa. fateful, even. all he'd held in his heart for her was always bound to reach her eventually. he'd cloak her with it if he could and had. flush as he beams again eyeing the book in her hands as he sat close, patting the towel perched at his shoulders into his dampened curls. “thank you, it’s my favorite.” a projector film of a flashy childhood in long island, the heydays of mrs. saller and to his own delayed surprise, the usual bitterness evades his tone. “my, uh, mom gave it to me way back when I was maybe, fifteen? yeah,” stacy then scoffs when he catches his own slip, reverse-freudian, she was never that intentional or even remotely aware of any grand potentials of her career. “gave, more like she tossed it away when plans of that godawful play they wanted to make of it fell through. seemed impossible, she said – well, sarah snook says otherwise.” it takes him a minute to be disturbed by what he'd casually indulged, a layer of intimacy he's yet used to so he resorts to what he's comfortable with; what she discreetly and shyly grants him when he swipes her hand into his, brushing his thumbs gently across her knuckles before bring them to his lips and pecking them twice. “so, breakfast?”

[asks-n-trolls]

Sprites done by @ghostytrolls

[Interest Tag] [Art Tag] [Asks] [Playlist] [Toyhouse]

Name:Conrad Cipher

Nickname(s): Connie

Pronouns:He/Him

Sign: Gemga

Height:7′3″

Age: 20 Sweeps

Voice Claim:

Abilities: Telekinesis

Typing Quirk: >> and Capitalizes the first letter of Nouns ex. >>the quick brown Fox jumps over the lazy Dog

Occupation: Mechanic, Part-time bomb tech.

Likes: Lava lamps, Warm weather, Going to the gym,  Red ink tattoos, Listening to radio talk shows, Reptiles

Dislikes: Sunburns, Sour candies, Lemon/Limes, Lawyers, Fleet officers, Flashing lights

Bio: One half of a whole, surprisingly smart, idiot. Conrad loves to research bombs and bomb building techniques, one could say he likes to find out what makes them tic!