#they look like they belong in different drawings

[meo-eiru]

Day 5 of Character Trivia Night!

For tonight we have Theo

Theo has a human mother and a cyclops father, though his dad isn't really in the picture as his mom doesn't like to settle down and instead jumps from monster bf to monster bf

Since there aren't any schools for monsters his mom always sent him to human schools, which meant Theo was always around people who did not look like him

His skin is a bit greenish but they usually explain it as a sickness and he always keeps his bangs long to hide his eye, thanks to not having much of a presence as well he was able to go under the radar most of the time

But there was one time in elementary school when he wanted to try playing with the other kids and ended up accidentally showing his eye. His mom quickly moved them to another city and enrolled him into a different school before the news outlets could get their hands on the situation, so by now it's more like a legend of their old town

The experience was quite traumatic for him so now he makes sure to never ever let his eye show in public

Some people who don't know him assumes he's a gamer but he's actually very bad at games

Has no depth perception and wears single lens glasses (glass...?) to make up for it, but they are a bit ugly so he only wears them at home

He actually doesn't have an eyebrow

Due to his quiet and nerdy appearance there are rumors about him being a gamer in class but he's actually really bad at games

That being said he's really into movies, anything sci-fi more specifically. Especially ones about aliens

Maybe because they are often depicted green, or maybe because the focus is on them not being human, but growing up Theo felt a lot of kinship with the aliens he was on the screen and they became a way for him to cope with his own life

He's mostly terrible at cooking but can make fire lasagnas because his mom likes it and it was the one meal she actually taught him

If left alone he would mostly stay alive eating chips and other snacks

He favorite color is green but if he had to choose a second favorite he would say dark purple

The first item of yours he stole borrowed, because of his overflowing love, was the pen you forgot on your desk

Soon he started collecting whatever item he could find of you. Erasers, pencils, napkins, used straws, clothes....

He also likes to take your pictures and hang them on his ceiling and walls, looking at your face as he falls asleep helps him see better dreams

He never intended to make a shrine of you but the items he stole from you and hid in his closet are starting to form the shape of a shrine and he might've added in some fake candle totally not because he wanted to make it more shrine light but because his closet just needed some more light

He's surprisingly good at drawing. He always enjoyed sketching colorful and quirky monster like creatures but lately his notebook has been filled with drawings he made of you. Weirdly enough, unlike everything else he draws, your drawings always look so clean and shiny like he's trying to draw his god

He also likes to write your name over and over again, it helps him calm down when he's too nervous or when his love for you is overflowing and he can't keep it under control

When writing can't cut it anymore he has to lock himself in a quiet bathroom and take care of the trouble under his pants. He wants to have something that belongs to you while doing it and usually even just a pen can do it but if he's lucky he can snatch your used gym clothes without you noticing.... and maybe take them home too if you don't pay attention... and try to spread your smell into his room as much as he can...

He always follows you home to stalk you make sure you're safe so he's familiar with its location and structure

One time he even tried going in thinking no one was home but just when he was walking towards the building he made eye contact with your mom and just ran back before she can say anything

His tear drops are really big, so when he cries it turns into quite a mess. That's why he does his best not to cry but unfortunately he's someone who can cry as easily as a newborn baby

One of his secret fantasies is you catching him while he's stalking you and humiliating him for it. Mostly because he can't think of any other reason for an amazing, incredible and holy person (one might say) like you to approach him

[autixel]

It hurt. It hurt in a way I didn't feel I could justify. This person doesn't know me. Doesn't recognize me, but they could. They could know me. Remember us. Remember our lives. Then they'd know they'd be happy with me, but they're happy now. I felt like a creep watching my soulmate and their spouse and their two young children in the outside section of the Italian restaurant.

The children were squealing in joy, wistfulness scrunched in my face. My waiter was finally here, Valentine's Day made the place nearly packed and though I could see the wear in her eyes she had a lovely smile.

"Welcome to Katherine's, my name is Brianna, I'll give you a few minutes to look over the menu," she said as she poured ice water into the glass on the table and handed me the menu, it matched the fanciness of the restaurant.

"Thanks, Brianna," I smiled back. While Brianna didn't say anything about being alone on Valentine's Day I could see her fellow wait staff weren't so kind, an occasional glance my way and visuals of whispers between workers. I wonder what their soulmates were doing. How they'd feel that their destined loves were so rude. I knew my soulmate had a family. I've seen them post on facebook about memories of meeting their spouse, children's birthdays, anniversaries, the like. But I wanted to see it in person, I really don't like how that makes me seem like a stalker.

I stared at the writing on the menu, pieces of paper protected by plastic lined in faux leather, "KATHERINE'S" stamped in gold on the front, nearly unnoticeable stitching. Maybe I should get some meatballs to start, and the snapper seems good, not too expensive. Maybe some lemon sorbet to ice the emotional wounds. This is embarrassing. I heard myself sigh. Now knowing what I want I set down the menu, turning my gaze westward. It never gets old. Katherine's is set on the top of a tall hill overlooking the highway. The sky dazzled in streaks of pink and orange that blurred into dusty blue and darker as the eye trailed East. The unkempt grass swayed as the breeze picked up and slowed as it dropped. It felt good. This body likes the cold, though today is a little abnormally warm for February. This is part of the melancholy of remembering your past lives, remembering how things were. Some people get really weird about it, others get really sad, others get inspired to go for a different career. I watched a collected drop of condensation fall down the glass and absorb into the napkin acting as a coaster. I took a sip.

Brianna came back and I gave her my order and the menu back. I pulled out my phone, beginning to scroll Tumblr. The great thing about people who remember their past lives is that old media never really dies, I got really into now old Hollywood in my previous life and I can connect with other people across the world who also loved it, and new people too. I know there's a group of people out there who remember reading and hearing about Gilgamesh thousands of years ago. People have dedicated phrases and tells for their next life to pass on their belongings, there's an industry about keeping things for your future life. Though that isn't always guaranteed assuming that you realize yourself in your current lifetime and you have the ability to travel to where you died. I get an ad for forced past remembering pills. What great timing. I get a post about national politics. I continue scrolling, reblogging, waiting for the food.

And randomly I get a feeling of being watched, I glance up and—there's my soulmate, staring directly at me. There's a visual hint when a person is remembering their lives. For my soulmate it's unusual flickers of light in their eyes. Oh this isn't what I wanted. I see their spouse recognizes something is wrong and meets where my soulmate is looking. Their eyes squint in confusion and rising irritation. One of the kids asks what's wrong with their parent. They're adorable. The spouse thinks over their words, lips drawing into a line. They say something in hushed tones and the kid asks, "Remembering?" The spouse replies, "Yes, I can tell you more about it at home, eat your spaghetti, gotta have food in your belly."

My soulmate blinks, confused, makes eye contact with the spouse and back to me. I avert my gaze. Oh, Brianna, where are you and can I get that to-go actually. I hear whispers at the other table. A waiter walks by, not Brianna, and the spouse alerts them and says, "Excuse me, can we get some boxes?" The waiter says, "Sure, I'll be right back," walking back the way they came. One hand held my chin the other drummed fingers on the table. I'm so minding my business I'm so not here. I hear more from my soulmate's table,

"I'm not having an argument in public."

"I think I should talk to them."

"Oh, that random stranger is the love of your life? Past, present, future?"

In an attempt to watch I accidentally meet my soulmate's eyes, but I darted away again. Please, soulmate, do not interpret as an attempt at being coy and wanting to be chased.

"Hon', please."

"We'll talk later. Let's get these little guys home first."

My soulmate sighed in exasperation.

The waiter came back with boxes, leaving them with, "Have a good evening," the spouse said thanks. I could tell they were keen on getting out of Katherine's. The kiddos' food got quickly boxed up, the adults followed. The family started heading out, my soulmate at the back, their spouse in the front holding the hand of the younger kid. My soulmate stopped at my table, looking uncomfortable. They bit their bottom lip looking between me and their family.

"Go with them."

"Can I at least get your number?"

They quickly unlocked their phone, face recognition, then pulled up a new contact. Their face was tense, creasing in the brows, highlighting of their crow's feet, a slight pursing of their lips. I could feel my eyes soften. I already knew I couldn't say no to them.

"I don't think that's a good idea, but okay."

I took the phone, entering this body's name and phone number. I handed it back and my soulmate typed something. I got a text message from an unknown number.

"That's me..." They said as they raised a hand to the back of their neck. This body had a lopsided grin. It reminded me of the amount of times I've seen them like this over the lives.

"I think you should go."

"You're right, hey, uhm, I'll call you later?"

"Sure."

My soulmate waves goodbye and I smiled in turn. The sun was red orange over the horizon. The clouds shifting over into purple.

Brianna came back with the food.

"I'm so sorry about the wait."

"You're fine, you're fine. Everything's okay."

"Call me over if you need anything."

"Thanks, Brianna."

She smiled and went over to a different table.

At least the food was good.

You and your soulmate are stuck in a cycle of reincarnation, but you managed to find each other every single time. In this life, you finally managed to track them down… only to learn they started a happy family with someone else.

[kawhh]

I was gonna go on anon with this, but you know what? I'm a whore for all three of our boys and I'm proud. So with that being said, what about being shared between Jack, Quinn and Trevor? Thoughts?

UNASHAMED WHORES UNITE. (before I sleep, it's 1am and I need a nap)

It keeps me up often. I'll admit. There's something about the balance of all three of them and how they'd make eachother worse.

They all have different levels of restraint but they'd all end up complete monsters. Constantly poking eachother. To the point of even making Q snap.

I feel like trevor would be the first to touch you. Forcing you on his lap, hooking your legs open. The way he'd trail his fingers slowly up your thighs, the way he'd threaten to violate you, hooking his thumbs under the lace of your underwear, snapping it back against your skin.

Burying his head in your neck, smirking at the brothers. If they're gonna be cowards about it, he's not gonna let that delay him ruining the cute little slut in his lap. A cruel look in his eyes as he bounces you slightly in his lap, forcing you to feel his cock press against you. Only getting harder with how they're glaring at him. Oh, if looks could kill.

Taking it further, licking a stripe up your neck as he lets his fingers dip under your underwear, close enough to your adorable little hole that he knows they won't know if it's actually touching you. Moaning in your ear, pretending that he's feeling you soaking his fingers.

He can see it working, he can see how worked up Jack's getting. His clenched fingers are pale. The slight tremble in his arms, the restraint he's using to not pounce on you. He swears he's almost drawing blood with how tight he's biting his lip. He won't take long. Just needs a little push.

"Mhmm.. Jaaack.. you really should feel how fucking soaked our little slut is. She's clenching around nothing.. such a fucking whore. Soaking my hand."

Biting your ear, making you squeak, giving your clit a harsh stroke, relishing in how Jack's eye's twitch at the sound of your arousal.

He's not focusing on Quinn. He won't snap until it's both of them bullying you. Too much of an ego. Too much self praise of his control.

The sound's too much for Jack, he's grabbing your ankles, yanking you down the bed. He can't handle not touching you. Can't handle someone touching his property. Trevor can't fuck you like he can. He's too selfish. He won't focus on you. Too focused on his own need to cum. Unlike him. He'll have you screaming before he even bottoms out in you.

Trevor's forgetting the numbers advantage. If he can get Quinn to snap, they're so in sync that he won't stand a chance. You'll be begging to be shared between them. You could wake up every morning with them, spit roasting you for breakfast.

He lets out a borderline growl as he watches Trevor rest your head against his cock. See? Selfish. Even now he's trying to get his dick sucked instead of worshiping you.

Fuck that.

He's yanking you even further down the bed, ignoring your comfort now that he's wrapped up in this ego battle. Blinded with how irritated he is. Giving you no warning as he rips your underwear, diving in to bite your hip, tearing the scraps from your body with his teeth. Glaring up at Trevor. He's still smirking. Still thinks he has the advantage. So what if he was the first to touch you?

Slapping your soaking pussy, the smugness increasing in his glare as you moan and jolt. Pussy clearly knows who it belongs to. Resting his head against your inner thigh, slowly leaving kisses around your hole, teasing you, the way you squeak if he gets too close.

Seeing Trevor twitch, kissing you directly on your tight, wet hole, frenching your cute little lips. Dragging his tongue along your walls. Eyes rolling back in his head at your taste. 'Course his girl tastes delicious. Digging his hands into your ass, lifting you up towards him. Needing more leverage to tongue fuck you. Smothering himself in your arousal. Feeling it drip down his chin, soaking the bed.

He can feel Quinn sitting on the edge of the bed next to him, looking up briefly to see him stroke your hair.

"Being a good girl for Jack, angel? Yeah? You gonna cum on his face? Warm your cunt up for me, yeah?"

You're crying at the contrast. The softness of Quinn's actions.. the brutal way Jack's swirling his tongue inside of you. Firmly trapped in their grip, far away from Trevor.

Helpless to defend against the way Jack manhandles you, flipping you onto your stomach, tugging your hair back, forcing you to look at Trevor. Murderous looking Trevor. He's suddenly thrusting into you, giving you no warning, no time to warm up. Going back on his need to make you cum and scream first. He needs this. Feeling his balls slap against your skin, the sound echoing through the room. Every slap making Trevor twitch.

Hammering into you, pushing you further into the bed. The drag of his cock against your walls is brain numbing. You don't know if you're crying, screaming or dying. He's slamming into your cervix, a little circle to his hips at the end of every thrust, making sure you can feel how big he is, how he fucks you better than anyone ever will.

Yelping as you feel hands on your ass, taking a second to realise what's happening. You'd almost forgotten. Whimpering as you're attacked with an even harder thrust, like he's telling you off for forgetting Quinn in your cock drunk haze.

Trying to squirm up the bed as your feel Quinn playing with your ass, stretching you apart to spit on your untouched hole, giving Jack a better view of how your cunt is gripping him, desperate to keep him inside.

It's no good. Good little sluts don't crawl away from what they're being given. You're being yanked down towards them, feeling like you're actually going to split apart on Jack's cock. Your vision blurs at the brutality.

Feeling Quinn slowly drag his thumb around your hole, threatening to push in. The pressure, the threat, making you whine loudly, begging them for mercy.

"Want me to really show you a good time, angel? Or do you want us both in that stretched little cunt?"

Jack's collapsing against your back at his brother's words, the darkness in his voice. Slamming into you one last time before he floods you. Watching his cum leak out, eyes widening as Quinn scoops it up with his thumb, pressing it against your ass. Forcing it in slightly, giving your ass a smack as a parting gift.

You're barely conscious, dragging your face up the soft bedsheets, glancing up at Trevor. He's a fucking mess. You can see his cum soaked boxers from here, the redness on his cheeks. The way he's just staring at you.

You're being grabbed, the brothers half throwing you up the bed, making you land close to Trevor. They're sandwiching you in a huddle on the bed before you can move. Quinn holding your leg up against his grip, grinding himself against you.

"Best you get some sleep.. before you wake up with my cock down your throat. Still have to show you who the best brother is, don't I?"

[hazydoe]

Warning +18 only Relationship between Father and parishioner, Religious themes, Age gap (19+48), Oppressive environment, Guilt and redemption, Dysfunctional family, Religious abuse, Sexual content, Mentions of alcohol, Traditional families, Depression, Female OC (19y), Virgin OC,

Tags dark!Cillian Murphy, Possessive! Cillian Murphy, Innocence kink, Breeding kink, Daddy kink, Age-gap, Cillian Murphy is so daddy.

Note:English is not my first language so I apologize if I made any spelling or grammatical mistakes.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏

Blackwood was never a place for the living. The houses were painted in dull colors, the sidewalks worn down by years of neglect from the government. It was a town forgotten by everyone, even by God. The only hope and solace for the townspeople was the church. The small white wooden structure was the only clean place, and everyone clung to the idea that God had once set foot in what the townspeople proclaimed as His house. Each person prayed for different things—healing for the sick or the homeless, growing their families, leaving poverty behind, or being illuminated by God's grace.

Lydia walked with her family along the path leading to the church on a Sunday morning, a white rosary hanging from her neck and a Bible in her hand. At nineteen years old, she had already learned to hide her thoughts behind a polite smile and a submissive gaze. She approached the church, like every Sunday, to beg her God to take her away from that town.

That Sunday, like every other, the church was full. The wooden pews creaked under the weight of the congregation, and the air smelled of melted wax and dampness. Lydia sat in her usual place near the front and waited for the mass to begin.

She looked up when she heard the footsteps of Father John and another man; the sound of their steps echoed through the room.

"Dear brothers and sisters, as some of you may have heard, I am stepping down from my position as priest. It has been a pleasure to share God's word with you all and to fill your homes with wisdom. I am retiring due to health reasons. I am pleased to inform you that Father Cillian will be my replacement. He arrived two days ago from Ireland, and I know he will do a great job guiding and spreading the word of our Creator."

Father John, a man of almost sixty-five years, had been accused of inappropriate touching by Heidi, the young girl from the family closest to the church. No one spoke up or filed a complaint. After all, he was the highest authority in the town, with the mayor in the palm of his hand. Heidi cried out for help, but the town turned a deaf ear. The real problem began when two other boys pointed to the same behavior. In the eyes of the town, if a little girl was harassed by the priest, it wasn’t so bad—maybe she had misunderstood his actions, maybe he was just playing, or maybe she was seeking attention. But if two boys said the same thing, it was a disgusting act. How could two people of the same gender feel attraction? That was utterly wrong.

It wasn’t long before Father John was admitted to the town’s small hospital with intense stomach pain. It was divine justice. His stomach lining had perforations, and the outlook for the beloved priest was grim. His only option was to leave his post and move to a city for treatment.

Lydia looked up to see the new priest. He was a man who did not belong in Blackwood. With his dark hair and blue eyes, Father Murphy was a figure who inspired both admiration and unease. Lydia saw him for the first time at the pulpit, his voice echoing against the church walls like a sound that refused to fade. There was something about him, something Lydia couldn’t define. He was a foreigner, and that alone made him intriguing. In a town where everyone knew each other’s faces, even someone from three villages away would draw attention.

Father Cillian Murphy’s voice was soft but firm, like a river flowing beneath the surface of a frozen lake. Lydia couldn’t look away. His words, though the same ones she had heard all her life, carried a different weight when they came from his lips. He spoke of redemption, forgiveness, and the light that could be found even in the darkest places. But there was something in his tone, something that resonated deep within Lydia, as if he knew she carried secrets she could never share.

When mass ended, Lydia remained seated, feeling as if the world around her moved in slow motion. The congregation began to leave, murmuring about the new priest. Some women whispered about his looks, others about his Irish accent, but Lydia could only think about the way his eyes had lingered on her for just a second too long.

"Lydia, let’s go," her mother said, touching her shoulder with a cold hand. "Your father is waiting for us at home."

Lydia nodded mechanically, but before leaving, she cast one last glance at the altar. Cillian stood there, carefully gathering the sacred objects, his movements reverent, almost painful. His long, slender hands handled them as if he feared breaking them. Lydia felt a sharp pang of curiosity.

That afternoon, Lydia returned to the church. She had no clear excuse for doing so, but something called her back. Perhaps it was the need to escape her house, where the walls seemed to close in on her every time her father spoke of her future. The church was empty, the light filtering in through the cracks in the wooden walls. Cillian was at the pulpit, flipping through an old book. When he heard her steps, he looked up.

"Lydia, right?" he asked, closing the book in his hands.

Lydia nodded, her heart pounding. "Yes, Father. I came to... to pray."

Cillian stepped down from the pulpit and approached her. "There’s no need to lie, Lydia. I know not everyone comes here out of faith."

Lydia felt her face flush. "I’m not lying," she said, though she knew it wasn’t entirely true.

Cillian studied her with an intensity that made her feel exposed. "It’s okay to have doubts," he finally said. "Faith isn’t something we always have—it’s something we seek."

"I haven’t lost my faith," Lydia murmured, moving to a pew. "I just don’t understand how a being so perfect, who claims to love His children, allows them to suffer so much." She knelt, the rosary slipping through her fingers as she began to pray. Her mind filled with the horrors she had witnessed, her hands trembling with the fear of looking up—afraid of what she might see. She didn’t know if she feared seeing God or the priest before her.

Cillian returned to the pulpit, his eyes scanning the book once more. Thirty minutes passed in silence.

The silence in the church was almost tangible, broken only by the soft rustling of pages. Lydia remained on her knees, her fingers moving over the beads of the rosary in a devotion that felt more mechanical than spiritual. Every time she tried to focus on her prayers, her thoughts drifted back to Father Murphy—his soft voice, his piercing gaze.

Finally, Lydia stood, feeling the weight of Cillian’s eyes on her. He now sat at the pulpit, the book closed on his lap, watching her with an unreadable expression.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" he asked, his voice echoing in the empty space.

Lydia hesitated before answering. "I’m not sure what I’m looking for."

Cillian nodded, as if he understood perfectly. "Sometimes, we don’t know what we need until we find it," he said, stepping closer. "Faith isn’t always an answer, Lydia. Sometimes, it’s a question."

She looked at him, feeling his words resonate deep within her. "And you, Father?" she asked, mustering courage. "Have you found your answers?"

Cillian smiled—a sad, tired smile. "I’m still searching," he admitted.

Lydia felt the air grow heavier, as if the church walls held a secret that couldn’t be spoken.

"You should go, Lydia," Cillian finally said. "It’s late. You wouldn’t want your parents to worry."

Lydia nodded, though she didn’t want to leave. At the threshold, she glanced back. Cillian stood before the altar, head bowed, hands clasped. He seemed to be praying, but Lydia couldn’t shake the feeling that he was battling something far darker.

[its-echo-song]

Hotel Room One Shot

Hey guys! I did a little bit of a spicier rewrite of one of my chapters from Aura of Life and decided maybe to just post it here for fun. If that's not your thing, feel free to skip this one. Though, I will say, it fades to black so I would rate this mature but not explicit. As always Donny belongs to @tuna-jsgross

We stumble our way into the hotel, giggling and dancing our way down the hallways to our room. We’d taken a cab, leaving the truck in the parking lot of the restaurant, and now we’re ready to retire for the evening. 

Donny’s loosened his tie, unbuttoned a few buttons off the top of his shirt, and his hair has fallen loose of the gel’s feeble attempts to hold it in a slicked-back style. All things considered, even in his mussed state, Donny looks lovely in formal wear. 

“I should ask you to dress like this more often.” I coo at him, pulling his tie completely undone with a gentle swoosh of the fabric and tossing it over his shoulder. He grins down at me, lopsided, blushing, and full of roguishness. 

“Yeah? It’s not my favorite but if you like it I guess it wouldn’t kill me.” 

“Oh, ‘like it’ is an understatement- I could stare at you all night. I think I just did, actually.” 

He laughs, pulling an arm around me and unlocking the door to our room. “You love to stare when you’re drunk.”

“Because you’re intoxicating- the most handsome man in the world.” 

He opens the door and I gesture widely for him to enter. 

“Dork- you’re going to give me a big head.”

“Never. You can’t call it an ego if it's a simple fact.”

“Flatterer.” He states as he loosens my tie, pulling it off and placing it aside. A moment later, his joins it, pulled off his shoulder and tossed with far less care than mine. “How do I get more of that to happen?”

I pull his jacket off his shoulders, placing a kiss on his cheek as I do. “Just keep being how you are, I can’t help it.” 

“Can’t help it, now?”

“I mean- look at you-” I gesture at him, he flushes slightly- but his grin does not fade in the least. I turn and hang his coat in the closet, taking mine off and hanging it next to his. The size difference is almost laughable. 

“I say it a lot but I love you- you don’t understand.”

I laugh now, turning back to fix him with a look. “Whatever do you mean? Like I don’t feel the same? I’m also quite enraptured, remember?” 

“Mm, but I think it’s impossible for you to understand how I feel, anyway.” He walks over and grabs me by the waist, pulling me close and giving me a kiss. I’m unsure, entirely, if my head spins because of the dopamine or because of the alcohol. I hear myself giggle, pulling him back in by the collar of his shirt. I’m not particularly concerned with the details of the cause of my joy at the moment.

He picks me up, the same as when we’d had our first kiss, my stomach does a flip of excitement and for a moment I forget all else as I wrap my legs around his waist-

Until there’s a loud thud and I realize a few moments after that it was the sound of my head hitting the wall- I only process it by the way Donny is apologizing and asking if I’m okay. 

“This seems to be a rough ride.” I comment, intertwining my finger through one of his loose waves, curling the strand around it. “I’m not sure if I trust the driver anymore.”

He laughs gently, burying his head into my neck, bracing himself against the wall. The whiskers of his beard tickle, sending goosebumps across my flesh. I do my best to hold back the giddy laughter from it. 

“Sorry. Are you okay? Really.”

“Yes, I’m fine. But perhaps we aren’t sober enough for that- as much as I like being tossed around.”

“I’m very invested in you enjoying being thrown around, Harv.” He teases with an arched eyebrow.

This causes the blood to rush to my face, the tone of his voice catches me off guard. “Yeah, well, what if I want to do what you like?”

“Me.” He draws back and meets my gaze. “Easy answer, do me.”

I laugh, full bodied and joyful, appreciating the gleam in his eyes when I react this way to him. “Yeah? What do you want me to do with you?”

He thinks for a moment, studying my face, then pulls me away from the wall and tosses me onto the bed- I can’t lie and say I’m not impressed by the sheer strength it takes to do such a thing, that I’m not attracted to it. He sits down and starts taking off his shoes, chucking one and then the other before laying down with me. “I like being able to be close to you, to hold you, to kiss you- I like it when you do those things first.” “What else?” I kick my shoes off, Donny’s eyes track the motion before wandering back up to my face.

“Well-.” He takes a slow and deep breath in, looking over me again with a spark of heat. The rest of his response is murmured in a low and bassy tone. “I want you to touch me, make me lose my damn mind.”

He pulls me close and I find myself running my hands along his arms. I’m captivated by the subtle shifting of muscles under my fingertips, frustrated by the fabric which folds and catches as I try to etch the lines of them. “Do you need this?” I tug at the sleeve and his eyebrows shoot up. “I hope not.” He sits up, starts undoing the next button on his shirt. I sit up with him, pull his hand away and take over the task for him- kneeling as I work on the buttons. “You know… I find the human body fascinating. It’s amazing how we function, move, breathe-” I glance up to meet his eyes, the redness on his face betraying nerves in equal measure. I pull the shirt off his shoulders, tossing it aside and pressing my palm against his chest- feeling his too-fast heartbeat in rhythm with mine. “And- I like knowing that I’m the reason your heart is beating like this.”  

I trail my hands up, gently pulling him toward me for a kiss, reveling in the way his breath hitches as I brush fingertips along his jugular vein to the back of his jaw. 

His lips meet mine and I can’t help the smile that forms on my face as they do, delight being such a simple concept in the moment- but how it ever existed without him, I do not know.

He brings his hand up to my neck and pulls me closer, starving for more as if the kiss will never be enough. In this particular instance, I agree. 

Somewhere within this exchange, I find myself wandering. My hands glide over beautiful skin and I enjoy the way Donny seems to melt into my touch, breathing a soft hum of approval as I move. 

He pulls away suddenly and starts to kiss my neck, a gesture that sends my head reeling, the feeling of wet, open kisses on my skin is nearly too much to bear. 

He works on the buttons of my shirt at the same time- fumbling, slightly, until I impatiently tell him to just rip the damn thing open. He glances at me questioningly, but then simply chuckles and obliges. The buttons fly off in a cacophony and he slides the shirt off my shoulders freely, kissing along my clavicles as he does.

Then he falls onto his back, grabbing me by the waist and pulling me with him so my hands rest on either side of his head and I’m straddling his hips. I smile down at him for a moment, then grind my hips into his. He moans loudly, throwing his head back and flushing deeper, a sight and sound that I enjoy to its fullest before I move on.

I start kissing a trail down his neck, over his collarbone, between his pecs, arching my back as I move lower, pulling myself further back on my knees. I glance up at Donny as I do this, loving the way his eyes are following me in reverent hunger. 

I giggle, feeling the rush of joy from the look of anticipation on his face, and sink my teeth into his chest. Once again, Donny moans for me, spitting out a swear and gripping at the blankets- being more worked up the longer I take.

So I take my time, breathing over his skin and whispering soft proclamations about his beauty, the way I adore him, the way I love how he sounds- I mean every word of it and he damn well knows it. Each word hits him in full, a new rush of sensation, another hitched breath, another exclamation of how much I’m driving him insane.

But we both know he won’t do anything about it until he’s on the edge of desire- this is the game we play. 

So I begin describing in detail the nerves that run along his arms, tracing them softly with kisses before graduating to discussing the science behind endorphins. 

I demonstrate this by gifting him several bite marks along his sides and hips, explaining his pain threshold to him as he writhes under me begging me to stop teasing him.

I answer this by sliding my fingers along his waistband, slowly unbuttoning his pants and sliding them down and off of him. The underwear follows suit without much ceremony. I can tell by Donny’s breathing that he’s sure that I’m done now, he feels relief in the finality of the movement- so I trace a trail back up his body with my tongue, gently kissing along the way and muttering how he’s been so good for waiting so long. 

But he’s growing frustrated with the waiting, the way I’ve pulled every trick I possibly can to make him want this more than he’s ever wanted anything, and when I look back into his eyes all I see is an all consuming, lust-sodden, darkened gaze. 

So mercy, it is -as if I’m not on the edge of teetering over into animalistic carnality anyway- I hurry to dispose of my own clothing, tossing them off to the side and relishing the feeling of flesh against flesh. 

Donny’s hands glide down my back, warm and heavy and beautifully large in the way they nearly encapsulate my hips entirely when he grabs them. 

Now it’s my turn to plead with him, leaning down and savoring a kiss that’s as much lust as it is appreciation, when I pull away I breathe out a simple ‘please.’ 

It’s enough for him, he fumbles a bottle of lube and I feel a shock of anticipation heatwave through my body- a moment passes before Donny gives me a nod, I kiss him again, and with an utterance of “good boy” said more like a song than a gasp of pleasure, I lower myself onto him.

[hazymoonlinh]

An error of the eternal land.

Chapter 1: The Arrival

You come to Amphoreus, meet him, became his friend, his mentor, helping his world, and soon have his heart.

|Part1|

Phainon x f!reader

The sun dipped lower in the sky, washing the city of Okhema in gold and amber. Marble towers stood tall, their polished surfaces glowing under the evening light, while the gentle hum of the temple bells signaled the transition from day to night.

Phainon was patrolling the outer edge of the city, near the olive groves where the winds were quiet, and the world felt untouched. It was supposed to be a peaceful evening.

Then the air trembled.

It was subtle at first—a faint vibration, like the hush before a storm. But then, the space near the olive tree shifted, the very fabric of reality twisting in on itself.

His instincts flared.

Without hesitation, his hand flew to his sword, drawing it halfway from its sheath. He had fought countless battles, faced warriors and beasts alike—but this was different.

The air warped, light bending unnaturally around a single point, before tearing open like fragile fabric.

And she stepped through.

Phainon’s breath caught.

A woman, unlike anything he had ever seen before.

She stood tall, her figure draped in unfamiliar clothing, the material foreign to anything found in Amphoreus. Her presence was striking—not just because of her beauty, but because she shouldn’t exist.

A reptilian tail curled behind her, long and sinuous, the scales shimmering faintly in the fading sunlight. Atop her head, nestled in her hair, were two small wings—not large enough for flight, but unmistakably real.

She blinked, her sharp eyes adjusting to the world around her, before locking onto him.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Phainon was still, his sword gripped tightly in his hand, heart pounding against his ribs. The teachings of Okhema urged him to act—to be wary of the unknown, to call for the Chrysos Heirs and drive out anything that did not belong.

And yet… he hesitated.

She wasn’t moving aggressively. She wasn’t attacking.

She was just standing there, gazing at him with an expression that wasn’t fear, nor hostility. Just… curiosity.

Then, she spoke.

“…Where am I?”

Her voice was smooth, calm—too calm for someone who had just walked into an unfamiliar world.

Phainon narrowed his eyes slightly but eased his blade back into its sheath. Not fully, just enough to keep it within reach.

“This is Okhema,” he answered. “The Holy City of Amphoreus.”

She tilted her head slightly, the wings on her head twitching in response. Then, her gaze flickered upward—to the vast sky stretching endlessly above.

“Amphoreus…” she echoed softly, like she was testing the word on her tongue. After a moment, she let out a quiet hum. “I’ve never heard of it.”

Phainon frowned slightly. He had traveled across Amphoreus, trained in its greatest cities, stood before the grandest halls of the Chrysos Heirs. There was no place beyond its skies.

At least, that’s what they were told.

“Where did you come from?” he asked, his voice steady, but his fingers still resting against his sword’s hilt.

She exhaled through her nose, thoughtful. “Somewhere far from here.”

Vague. But not a lie.

Phainon studied her closely, taking in every strange, impossible detail. The way her tail moved with unconscious ease, the smooth scales blending seamlessly into her skin. The way her small wings shifted slightly when she turned her head, reacting like an animal sensing its surroundings.

The longer he looked, the more wrong everything felt. Not in a way that spelled danger, but in a way that defied everything he had ever known.

The laws of Okhema dictated that one should not question the beyond. That the skies above were the heavens, and everything beneath them was all that existed.

But this woman stood before him—real, undeniable, impossible.

He should call the others. Should demand answers. Should treat her as a threat.

And yet…

“…What are you?”

It wasn’t an accusation. Not a demand. Just pure, unfiltered curiosity.

She met his gaze, something unreadable in her expression.

Then, after a brief pause, she offered a small, almost amused smile.

“Someone lost,” she murmured. “And someone who’s probably not supposed to be here.”

Phainon exhaled slowly, his grip on his sword finally loosening.

He had the distinct feeling that nothing in his life would be the same after today.

_______

[hyperfocused]

Sanlu

[meamiki]

mira !!! :]

[quins-makeshift-menagerie]

Cursed Chimera

[yuriyuruandyuraart]

motorcycle sketch featuring cross!! >:)

[nullbutler]

something something identity something something culture

[hellscribbles]

Post campaign brainrot is STRONG lately, Husk belongs to @friendlyforestbeast

Alts + close ups under the cut

[yakny]

[ultravioart]

Imma need to create a specific art style to draw in for omnic content because it is detail hell (neck pistons, my beloathed), and I am not particularly drawn towards any of the ow comic styles? Once I pick a style, I will turn-arounds of omnics and humans in the style to make my life easier, and I'll post them here.

I am open to suggestions for robot art style inspo! Feel free to reply, reblog, or send asks/submissions of animated series art styles, or artists, you think are good at portraying robots in 2d.

[radlegowaffle]

⭐✨ yuus socials

[linalilia]

my milgram ocs' twst versions!

hi i know it would probably make more sense to post this on my milgram ocs blog but like. i felt like since it's also related to twst it would be weird so uh. IF I DON'T KNOW WHERE TO POST SOMETHING I JUST POST IT HERE.

so anyway, here's how my milgram ocs would look if they were twst characters!

more info under the cut!

some notes:

all of them would act the same way their younger (or in asahi's case, older) versions acted in the past, not counting akio, aimi and riku who are the same age as they are in canon.

of course, they are not murderers here, but a lot of them have the same backstories they have in canon, so yes, sanada family is still.. bad, kei and eiji's relationship is still extremely toxic, riku still has to deal with that childhood friend of his, etc. however, miki and asahi's story is different here and asahi never ran away from home in this au and they started living with their grandparents after their father's death. because of that, asahi is much calmer here, his pupils are the same shape as miki's and he's fully aware that she is his sister.

i really wanted to write full profiles for them, but.. gonna be honest, even thinking about it makes me feel tired jdkdlsls. like, i couldn't come up with some things, so i decided not to worry about it too much and just. not write it at all 👍 there also was another problem, which i can describe only as "girl help most of their family members actually have canon names but i can't reveal them rn bc spoilers but i also want to talk about their families AAAAAAAAAAA i guess i just won't write anything" god wouldn't it be funny if i spoiled the names of some victims and the third guard on my main blog instead and yes, i can come up with everyone's family members' names, but thinking about stuff like favorite food, their clubs, etc, makes my brain hurt. idk how that works.

also, i actually drew akio and aimi BACK IN MAY, so if they look a bit different from the others, that's why.

OKAY SO UHHHH NOW WATCH ME RAMBLE ABOUT THEM OR SOMETHING

akio acts the same way as his canon counterpart which is great, because azul now has both him and hayden in his dorm :) i think he would most likely be in an archery club let's pretend nrc has one since he was in one canonically before the club president had to leave. like, honestly, i don't talk about it much, but this guy actually?? is pretty good at archery?? and he even likes it, though he still refuses to see it as his hobby and says that studying is more important to him. man, this guy just can't let himself be happy and enjoy things 😔 his best subject would most likely be magical analysis, though i think he would be good at almost everything.

aimi, just like akio, acts like her canon self, but thankfully, she's not a victim of bullying in this au and she's just really clumsy, so that's where all her injuries, cuts and scratches come from wow she would get along great with vance for some reason i think heartslabyul would be a good dorm for her? though to be honest, i just want to see her interact with the other students there, haha. i just want her to have someone to talk to, okay 😭 i think she would most likely join the gargoyle studies club because she would see malleus and go "wow.. he's just like me fr.." she doesn't even care about gargoyles that much, but he's just as lonely as her so :] yeah she's gonna join. it's hard to say what her best subject would be, since canonically she's not really good at anything and her grades aren't the best. she doesn't even try to get better at anything, actually.

shun's hair color is different here, since that's what his hair looked like when he was eighteen, and that's his natural hair color. I HAD TO MAKE HIM AN IGNIHYDE STUDENT OKAY I HAD TO. THIS GUY IS AN IDIA KINNIE ANYWAY. i have no idea what club he would be in, honestly, though mayyyybe the basketball club? but i think he would join only if someone asked him (or maybe kei and eiko saying something like "you'd look good in that club's uniform" would be enough) . this guy is surprisingly strong, even though he would rather stay in his room and disassociate for like an hour or two and forget about everything.

yes, naomi had shorter hair when she was younger! i actually kinda think she looks better with hair like that. so i originally thought that she would be a human, but then i was like "i mean.. her t1 mv had a water theme.. and also she would be an octavinelle student.. and she would look pretty as a mermaid.. so.." so yeah, she's a mermaid now :) please don't ask what kind i'm begging you my brain is just saying "MERMAID PRETTY. THAT'S ALL" listen, her being an octavinelle student makes so much sense to me. like look at her. she's so nice, she's so polite, she's so smart, she surely doesn't have any bad intentions, right? :)

oh god, kei was.. an interesting person when he was younger. just so you understand, he actually was worse when he was younger. like, if you don't count him lying all the time, his mood swings and him wanting to be treated like a younger brother and not the older one, canon kei is actually pretty chill compared to his 18 y/o self. now, again, i wanted to make him a human, but then my brain went "but wouldn't he look good as a merman" and i said "he would but i can't imagine eiji being a merman" and then my brain went "well it doesn't matter." and look he's a merman now. also i'm looking at him rn and. wow, lina, we still don't have rielle's official design, so you decided to take everything into your own hands HJSKSKSLS. i think pomefiore is a fitting dorm for him? i can kinda imagine him being in octavinelle and scarabia too, but i feel like him being in pomefiore makes more sense to me, especially when i think about his t2 self. this guy is more concerned about his appearance than it seems and he also thinks his appearance is his only redeeming quality, so... :') and yeah, let's pretend nrc has a photography club, because he would definitely be there.

listen. listen, i agree, eiko being in ignihyde would make a lot of sense, especially because of her mvs. but i also think she deserves better JSKSDLSLDLS and i just can't imagine her getting along with other students there? flirting with nerds who never got any female attention sounds fun though, but she already has shun. and come onnn, the concept of kei and eiko being in the same dorm is so fun!! i think she would be in the film studies club and her best subject would most likely be ancient incantations.

YESSSSS that's how 16 y/o asahi would look like! he sure is a pretty boy <3 i can imagine him being very tall too. and thankfully, because he never ran away from home and was raised by his grandparents and his older sister, he grew up to be a calmer version of his canon counterpart, though if someone says anything bad about miki, he won't hesitate to call them out in the same manner canon asahi would. he's definitely still traumatized because of the way his and miki's father treated both of them and he still blames himself for his mother dying (he doesn't have that "imaginary mother" in this au btw!) though. he's very attached to his older sister and even though he's taller and more intimidating than her, he can often be seen holding her hand or hiding behind her back. something about him being in heartslabyul just sounded right to me and i think his best subject would be potionology. for no reason at all :) now that i think about it maybe pomefiore would be a good dorm for him too

yurika would act just like her younger self and that means she would act much more confident and she would look down on others a lot, though i think she would be a bit insecure about her interest in animanga and games, like.. isn't that kinda lame? her homeland being queendom of roses and her dorm being heartslabyul just sounds perfect to me because of her color palette jdkdsksl and hey, i think it would fit her because of her personality and vibes too!

riku would act the same way as his canon self, and honestly, i mostly chose diasomnia because i thought he would look good in their uniform and that their aesthetic would fit him a lot :'D though i think, if you take his personality, diasomnia is a good choice for him, since diasomnia students are like, usually the strongest and most talented magic users, and we already know how talented riku is in canon and he sure feels a lot of pressure because of that. "why is he a merman" because his t1 vd's title. i actually wasn't sure what i want his race to be and i thought that him being a human makes more sense, but. but come on!! his t1 vd!! he's canonically great at singing!! come on!! and yes, of course, his best subject would be music and he would be in the light music club.

yes, reina already acted like that when she was a teen. she was.. quite a rebellious teenager, actually. her being a beastwoman just makes so much sense to me, like!! look at her!! she's a catgirl!! she's so >:3!! her being a catgirl is so ironic because of her and riku being a prisoner pair, but i'm not gonna say anything else i wasn't sure about her dorm at first, but then i looked at my other ocs and went ".. we need at least one jock" so here she is! her best subject would most likely be flying and i think she would love to join the board games club simply because she would think it's fun.

OH EIJI... OH MY POOR BEAUTIFUL SON.. yeah. yeah, he was not doing well when he was seventeen he's still not doing well actually . he would still wear bandages, but he would try his best to hide them, for example, with a scarf or longer sleeves, because back then he refused to talk about how bad his relationship with kei actually is and he even wanted to protect kei's reputation. and of course, he would be in heartslabyul, like, of course he would be in a dorm based on rules and order. now that i think about it.. a second year heartslabyul student with red hair who is obsessed with always being in the right, has a serious personality and also has a really bad relationship with a particular family member.. that sure sounds familiar.

yeah, 17 y/o miki looked basically the same as her 18 y/o self and even though in this au miki has a slightly different backstory, she would still act mostly the same way as her canon version. also, about her dorm.. i actually kinda wanted her to be this universe's yuu and be a ramshackle student BECAUSE HEAR ME OUT. this school is full of pretty boys and she can try to fix all of them. like i know that she would RUN to those guys who overblotted and do the whole "I KNOW THIS ISN'T YOUR HEART" speech. but yeah, this wouldn't make any sense bc her brother is a magic user and all. soooo i decided to send her to octavinelle because yes, this girl is cute, but she's also just as manipulative.

also, yes, everyone has a unique magic! and i decided not to think too much about titles and just went with their t1 songs fjdjsdkskls (not counting the guards).

staying at the top: makes akio become better (to the point of becoming an expert) at literally anything, but if he uses it even for simply ten minutes, he will have no choice but to spend the rest of the day in bed because of how much energy his unique magic requires. he accumulates a lot of blot too, so his magic has more cons than pros, but he still uses it pretty often to impress people.

portrait of friendship: makes anyone want to become closer with aimi, but once she's done using her magic, they will forget about everything that happened and they'll most likely want to leave her. she uses her magic very often though and for long periods of time, so.. she's probably very close to overblotting.

error screen: with his magic, shun is able to steal other people's good memories and make them his own instead. he starts feeling like a happier person because of that, but because his bad memories get replaced with those, his memory starts getting worse and worse to the point of him questioning what's real and what's not. and yes, just like akio and aimi, he still uses it all the time, just because he doesn't want to feel any negative emotions.

empty desk: her unique magic helps naomi completely ignore someone's presence and makes that person invisible to her. even if they touch her, even if they yell at her, no matter what they do to make her pay attention to them, she won't see them, won't hear them and won't feel their touch. she doesn't think her magic is that good or interesting, but she does use it sometimes when she needs a break from certain people.

hot pink illusion: kei is able to use his magic only on himself and his magic is supposed to make him feel like everything around him is better than it actually is. no one is arguing, the weather is nice, people think he's cool, all of that. he can use it only for short periods of time though, so if he's having a bad day, he has to use his magic many times in one day to feel better.

lost in perfection: similar to kei's magic, eiko's magic helps her make objects or even people look better than they actually are. it doesn't change their real quality though, so for example, if she tries to make something look less fragile than it is, it will still break easily.

never satisfied: asahi doesn't like his unique magic that much and finds it useless, since his magic helps him "make the number of something bigger", like food or money, but if you try to eat that food, it won't taste like anything and you also won't be able to buy anything with that money, so basically, it's just an illusion not a hot pink one though and it's simply there to.. comfort someone, maybe? help them feel better about themself? make them feel like they're satisfied with what they have even though they are clearly not?

heart-shaped candy: if yurika puts her hand on someone's chest, she will be able to make them say what they really think about someone or something or talk about something that's been bothering them but they couldn't talk about it, basically, "get it off their chest". after that, the person won't remember what they said, but they will feel much better.

jump together: basically ruggie's UM, but worse, because if riku wants to make someone do something, he has to do the same thing in front of them or with them. if he wants to make them jump, they have to see him jump or he has to hold their hand while he jumps. if he wants to make them sing, he has to sing too and they have to hear it. If he wants to make them cry, he has to cry too and they have to see it, you get the idea. and yes, they will remember everything. so if riku really wanted to hurt someone with his UM, it would be much more difficult for him because he can't hide and that person either has to see him or he has to do that thing with them.

no reason: she can change anyone's memories and make them feel like they've seen reina instead of someone else in their memories, for example, if they saw someone break a vase, reina can change their memories and make them feel like they've actually seen her break that vase and not anyone else.

the guard's punishment: if someone does something to him, eiji can use his magic to make them do the exact same thing to themself and it works for both good and bad things, like giving him a gift or hurting him. he knows he could use it as self-defense against kei, but.. he knows that no matter what kei says, that guy's pain tolerance is low.

the price of forgiveness: if someone is blaming themself for something, miki can help them by taking that feeling of guilt and making that person feel more free and less anxious, but miki will feel guilty instead. miki will eventually forget about that person's action that made them feel this way, but the feeling will still be there and it will take a while for her to stop saying that it's actually all her fault.

+ bonus info about the side characters!

arata would be in octavinelle too and he would also be a first year and akio's classmate. they're just as inseparable here as they are in canon. also no murder means no breakup era!!

ruka would be in pomefiore and he would be a second year. so yeah, he not only shares a dorm with kei but that guy is also his annoying upperclassman. great. he actually doesn't mind at all

.. too many of my ocs are either heartslabyul, pomefiore or octavinelle students but yes, takame would most likely be in octavinelle too and she would be a third year. yurika would surely respect her senpai a lot <3