#look i dont know

[witchkittymeow]

EVER WANTE- i'm not doing that bit

Hey yall! glad to announce a second pattern for the papertective figures! this time Rosé!

heres Eugene tho, also if you guys CAN try to get tweezers and white glue, but stick glue works fine too. you just print and get a lil guy(s)!

[sky-kiss]

Drink

A/n: I got nothing. I don't know. This is nothing. This is like. Minor lactation kink and some conversation lol. Everything is going under the cut. Here. Have his smug face as my penance.

R/D!Urge: Drink

“Your son was not hungry.” 

There’s an archness to her tone that causes Raphael to lift his head. The duchess lingers near the edge of his vision, a conspicuous distance kept between them. Vanity has kept her from his bed and out of his company; he does not miss the excess fabric draped across her form, designed to hide the extra weight and the heaviness of her breasts. 

The body did not feel like her own, she’d admitted once, head held high. Daring him to argue, perhaps hoping he might. He had no interest in the conversation one way or another.

“This is of interest to me?” 

Joi frowns, gaze dropping. He will not say she is diminished, but there is somehow…a shift---in her bearing, in her essence. She was much the same in the months following their daughter’s birth. Discomforted and robbed of her self-possession, hormones and exhaustion forming some wretched amalgamation. He sees the ragged seams of her fraying control, places where he might hook his fingers and pull. And worse, he thinks she could not muster the energy to stop him. She hugs his stolen robe more tightly about herself. “Please, Raphael. For once, no games.” 

“No games, no whimsy…how tiresome.” He leans back in his seat, folding his hands over his stomach. “Come.” 

The duchess crosses to him, and it occurs to him again how little he likes her like this---this dour little thing. She settles across his lap, wincing as she adjusts herself. The boy…the prince, he amends, had not come into the world as delicately as his sister. It’d taken days to clear the stench of blood from the boudoir. 

His sorceress leans her head against his chin, grumbling and drawing his arms around her. Raphael plucks at the robe’s tie. “Why have you come, pet?” 

She huffs, “Am I no longer welcome in your boudoir, my duke?” 

“You seemed happy enough to keep your own company.” 

Joi pinched the back of his hand. “Your son, your heir, needed me.” 

“The princess is my heir. The boy…” 

“Raphael.” Her tone is softer than he expects, not the righteous fury he hopes to elicit. Too tired, no games, no sport. “Please.” She leads his hand to her breast, heat radiating from the milk-swollen flesh. He pushes the robe apart. The nipple is badly chafed, reddened, and oversensitive. “As I said…your son would not drink.” 

“Haarlep would leap at the chance to relieve you.” 

“Haarlep,” his duchess purrs, fingers stroking back through his hair, scraping across his scalp. “Is no king. My body bore princes and princesses…should it nourish him?”

The devil chuckles, lifting her from his lap and onto his desk. “Oh, wicked thing. A fair point.”

She winces when he spreads her legs. He shifts to his human form in a fit of deference, holding her knees tight to his side. Raphael acts with uncharacteristic care, bowing her back. The devil presses a kiss to her sternum, cupping her right breast to relieve the pressure before suckling.

Her hand moves to the back of his neck, holding him in place. Joi’s sigh borders on rapturous relief rather than pleasure. He finds himself cataloging these noises, each one fascinating: a scrape of teeth and she hisses; more direct pressure and she’ll squeeze her legs around him. It’s best to press the flat of his tongue to her skin, open-mouthed and indirect, and then she makes such pretty noises. So sweet. 

He presses his hand between her shoulder blades, exaggerating the bow of her back. He sucks a bruise into the rise of her breast before shifting his attention to the left, repeating the process. She’s slackened in his arms, relaxing into his touch now that the worst of her discomfort has passed. 

Raphael swallows, pulling back to admire his work. He wipes a stray bead of milk with his thumb, bringing it to his lips to lick it clean. His duchess shivers, staring at him with wide, hungry eyes, mouth still partially slack. 

He kisses her, letting her taste herself on his tongue, slow and languid. 

And when all is said and done, Joi presses him back into his seat. His duchess sinks to her knees with neither comment nor complaint, only a delicious look of self-satisfaction, hunger she longs to satiate. 

Far be it from him to deny her. 

[thinktankbigmt]

—Ah yes, canine augmentation... It is the most IMPORTANT research I have ever undertaken! You know, I used to have a canine that I loved. A dog named Gabe. Sometimes I used cats for experiments but they never provided ideal results unlike the MIGHTY canine! —

[magichroma]

find you a cute girlthing with big tits and dick and also cries a lot and is worried they are annoying

[evansbby]

So…you thought that man you pinned before was better than Ari…and now you took him down for our new Chris…that means this version of Chris is better than Ari?

why did I know someone was gonna say this 😂

[symphony-calamity]

You want me like the wind and the rain and the sun, like something you can never have, something that if you possessed would destroy you, and the rest of the world with you. You want me like staring at the horizon, as the sliver of land at the bottom of a cliff when you wonder what it would feel like to jump—not the landing, just the falling, the feeling of helpless freedom when there is nothing beneath your feet and nowhere to go but down. You want me like the moment before crisis, like the split second when you realize the end is near but cannot stop it. You want me, yes, but only if it would destroy us both. You say it will break your heart to watch me walk away. Happiness was never an option.

[sparrowlucero]

speaking of how to train your dragon and creature design, the shift from the really naturalistic art direction and character animation for the first movie's toothless- the face getting flatter, the eyes bigger and closer together, getting rid of the little realistic details like the dust collecting between the scales, the pink splotching where the scales end at the nostrils, the muted markings, the animation making a shift from largely realistic animal behavior to much more anthropomorphic- is such a huge downgrade to me, made worse because it's subtle in such a way that you will sound insane if you mention it

(huge L for the "the audience's capacity to find a creature cute and empathetic and expressive is directly proportional to how much it looks like a human baby" principle of character design because the first one is so so much cuter)

[nonebinary-leftbeef]

DEVASTATING the lyric you've been mishearing is better than the real one

[fynori]

skeletons have zero right to be that hard to draw

[colorstrike624]

No but seriously the things turtles can do are unhinged.

[koobiie]

i call this one "hatsune miku if she was one of those transparent controllers from the early 2000s"

[morebird]

how could I resist mr. dark, complex and intriguing

[puppyeared]

abogagos……..

[inkskinned]

because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?

[s-ccaam-era-crepe]

feel free to put location/area in the tags

[bamsara]

Lamb in a bunny suit trend (ft scythe and veil props, thanks Narinder)