#tremendous amounts of doodles

[areallysmallmoth]

Now that ALL my exams are done

I still have a whole bunch of ✨doodles✨ from the previous semester

Most of them were made while I was talking with a friend so if I remember I’ll add context👁v👁

WAHOO

My to do list is full again :D

Appreciate Wally!!

Teeny tiny context—“Get sneezed on monster behind my bed” by my dear friend

For the Howdy one

Top right corner ✨Tiny translation✨—“He’s looking into the void/nothingness”

Bottom from left to right—“Asserting VERY much dominance”, “he nakey”, “F?”, “WHAT DID I JUST TELL YOU?!”

Tiny T posing Howdy :) or F with 4 arms?

Some little doodles of my ✨persona✨ yey

When I got home from the Fnaf movie I was tired but so so happy

✨Brain yum yum✨

[greycaelum]

Scribbles & Doodles— Mafia Gojo: { Summer Heat }

—Mafia Gojo Satoru X Wife Reader

𑁍 Synopsis: Spending the scorching summer with your husband on your private island leads to igniting other embers in your marriage

𑁍 Genre: NSFW: explicit smut, traditional arrange marriage, hints of yandere if you squint

𑁍 WC/CW/TW: (3.7k)— tattoos, teasing, breeding kink, impregnation, pregnancy talks, oral sex, unprotected sex, open space sex(—no one in the vicinity), nipple play, biting, praise kink, cockwarming, dirty talk, creampie, cervix fucking, overstimulation, profanity, soft dom satoru, cunnilingus, yakuza/mafia hints if you squint, toxic in-laws, mention of an accident [tell me if i missed something]

𑁍 A/N: Hi everyone~ a lot has been going on but finally I manage to finish the piece I'm working on, here it is. My mind is going brrrr about mafia stuff so I hope you like this one! Sending y'all very tight hug! —Grey,

Growing up, the idea of summer in your mind glows with the open sea with tropical trees lending you shade while sitting in your sun lounger, watching the waves ebb the white sand.

Going home to Amami Oshima every summer is a tradition you have religiously followed before your college years. And now that you're back, you find yourself in the same place you have grown up loving the heat of the sun.

"Too hot don't you think so too Ma'am? It's a shame for your pretty skin. My hands are free to help." A mischievous tone swirl in Satoru's voice. Wearing nothing to cover his sculpted-inked torso, ripped in well-toned muscles traced by his tattoos and few scars, his black swimming trunks hug his Adonis belt almost like a sin. The bulging veins on his biceps leave you tremendously distracted and bothered. He walked barefooted in the sand with hands on the sides of his pocket shamelessly eyeing you.

You resisted the idea of pouncing on the gorgeous man, admiring his menacing tattoos that made your toes curl. The way it hugs his chest like a coat, crawling to his forearms and painting down his back makes you breathless of how much beautiful he could get.

"My husband already promised to put sunscreen on me, I wonder if he forgot." You giggled, looking at him with siren eyes.

Satoru merely smirks, climbing on top of you with his hands on either side of your head, blocking any path for you to escape.

"Fuck Baby, lucky husband you got." His head delved down and you expected a rough kiss from his lips but nothing came, instead, a soft peck landed on the tip of your nose.

You opened your eyes and saw Satoru's grin as if he knew what you were thinking.

"Sit up straight, you're gonna get sunburned." Satoru retracted to sit on the end of your lounger, grabbing the sunscreen on your side table and squirting a good amount of it on his palm.

For a man always wearing a suit when dealing with his business, Satoru is fair toned despite being an albino. Yet that doesn't stop him from being a little too red like an octopus ball during summer, something you've loved watching since childhood, teasing him as much as you could.

Pouting you sit up straight adjusting your bikini before giving your arm to him. There's something about the tattooed man, twice your size and yet buttering you up in sunscreen with full attention that gives you a fuzzy feeling in your tummy.

"My husband would do it rougher and quicker." You bit your lip.

Satoru raised a brow at you but continued doing his job, tapping your knee with the back of his hand, he grabs your ankles to his lap as he lathers you up, not missing a spot.

"Uh-huh? What else would he do?" He rasped.

"He would..." You deliberately drag it longer, watching his brows frowning. "Make me lay on my stomach too."

You tried to fight the smile on your lips as Satoru's face only grew impatient, narrowing his ocean eyes in your direction before pinching your hips, telling you to roll on your tummy.

"Sir, you look like my husband."

And you broke the final straw, a loud spank struck your butt making you yelp. It wasn't that hard but you sure got surprised.

"You really are a minx." Satoru groaned.

"Only for my husband."

"Fuck, I'm your husband. Wife."

You laugh, accepting the heated kiss Satoru punished you until you feel your lips tingle and swollen.

The two of you have been quite busy, barely seeing each other in a day, going as far as seeing each other only at midnight when your husband comes home from work and you're awoken by his shuffling.

It's frustrating how he's your husband but he's the person you get to spend the least amount of time with. And you're sure he feels the same, conveyed by the morning he couldn't bear to let you out of his arms. Hesitant and pouting whenever you walk to the door to leave for work.

So here the both of you are. Leaving busy Tokyo to go home where the two of you spent the blazing heat of summer since childhood. Away from work, away from stress and the constant fear for your husband's safety. It's only on this island that your heart is at peace.

Work is fine, you love your job. But being around too many people drains you. Especially your in-laws and even your father. The idea of having to face them is already strenuous for your mind.

"What's on your mind?" Laying on the lounger with the sun still high atop the sky is so peculiar. But here you are with your body on top of Satoru your fingers tracing his tattooed chest, his legs propped by your sides while raking his hand over your back.

His expression is serious but it softened slightly when he looked at you. The way he looked at you is different from the way he looks at everyone else. Like a cushion to the malevolence, his callous hands could do. A cushion specifically crafted for you. But it's a different matter with the hostility of people around you.

People never failed to keep pointing out if an heir is coming along the way. It's as if not bearing a child after the first few months of getting married is a huge sin for you to be condemned and criticized every time you meet.

And those are getting to you. The anxiousness whenever you try for the test and see it come back negative. The constant worry of your fertility chasing after you. Or will you ever make a good mother?

"Nothing." You close your eyes, flushing out the thoughts.

"Hey, wife. What's wrong? Am I holding you too tight?" Satoru noticed your silence and move over to see the waver of your eyes you're too slow to hide.

Satoru is so soft with you, so tender that it's almost heartbreaking how he holds you so dear without any hesitation. And all you wish is to reciprocate this kind of love to him in the way your body and soul allow.

He once spoke about it, a light talk over your first days of marriage but he never brought it up again. Something you knew, he was being considerate for your part after all the talks from your families every dinner that ends up Satoru being in a foul mood, growing more distant with his family.

And it breaks your heart seeing him fall apart from his parents. It breaks your heart seeing a family drift away. It triggers the fear in your heart after seeing what happened to you parents as well. It scares you seeing that happen to your husband.

You look at him and it seems he always knew what's going on in your mind. A kiss delves on your forehead.

"I want a child 'Toru. I want it so bad."

Not because everyone keeps bothering you. Or you have something to prove to the people talking about you.

But you have always dreamt of a child, a perfect copy of your husband running to clutch your legs to show you the sandcastle Satoru built for fun. A son or a daughter, running through the white sand by the beach sunset.

You want a family with him.

"You wanna be heavy with my child?" A feral glint sparked in your husband's eyes.

Before you could nod Satoru held your face kissing you over and over again, lust-filled eyes staring at you. His strong hand pulled your face closer so that you could feel the air you breathed combining.

"I will put a baby in you," he whispered lifting you in his arms and walking back to your beach house. "Maybe even two." The thought had you hazy and distraught between his words and kisses. "You'd look so good with my kids." Satoru cursed and set you down on the veranda, he pushed your back against the wall, his arms imprisoning you while his hands roam your body. "My wife carrying my child, fuck baby. You're making me crazier for you."

You moaned, trying to keep your eyes closed, saving even a bit of your dignity from doing this in such an open space. But what else is there that Satoru wouldn't notice about you?

His large body drowned you. A ripping sound of fabric tore through the silent beach. Looking down, all you could see is your exposed chest and before you could cover yourself Satoru pinned your arms above your head, attacking your lips into a maddening kiss while his fingers brush your peaks, skin-to-skin, electrifying you to a mess. He softly groped your mounds, kneading and pawing your milky globes with his rough callous palm and your body just respond to his touches before you could allow it.

"T-the people." You half-heartedly struggle, maintaining the last inch of sense in your head.

But Satoru raggedly cursed almost making you faint.

"Bold of you to assume I'll share even a fucking inch of your skin Baby." It's almost a sin how you could forget his possessiveness just because you've been alone for days. "I'll hunt them down one by one."

You can't form an answer and threw your head back when he bent down, inserting your hard peaks into his hot mouth, swirling and suckling you so needily. He could feel the smirk on his lips. Through the slits of your hooded eyes, you could see his glimmering eyes filled with lust. His kiss is so deep that it distracted you from his hands trailing down your thighs. One touch against the thin cloth of your bikini, he chuckled between curses.

"Fuck baby," he whispered, kissing your jaws sporadically. "You're so horny." He brushes your clit through your panties. He rubs it gently with his thumb.

The shame started creeping up on you, you slightly pushed him but it barely had any strength. "Satoru please." You wanted to scold him but it came out as a whine only spurring your husband. The hot blue beach staring at you openly makes your belly tingle, unused to the idea of doing such an intimate act in full view.

But you're sure you want this and you trust Satoru will handle everything to keep your dignity, you arch when he plays with your hair with one hand while he strokes your belly with the other.

A moan escapes you as Satoru starts to kiss your neck, tracing your skin with the tip of his tongue as his hand snaps your bra. You lean your head to the side to give him more access to your neck while he pushes you onto the hard stone wall. You know your arousal is leaving a stain in your panties, and when he starts sucking on your neck your knees threaten to wobble in the sheer pleasure.

Satoru's bulge is hard, brushing against your stomach. His curses thundered when you clung to his neck desperately. Large callous hands caress your body, roaming the fullness of your breast, grabbing the dips of your hips whilst he pushes you against his hard chest kissing you breathlessly.

You're already a mess when he goes down your body.

Satoru kisses your belly, knowing that's where his child will grow inside of you, as he slips his thumbs under the edge of your panties, "Give me permission, wife." He groans, looking into your eyes. When you gasp a faint 'yes' and Satoru pulls off your panties before kissing you in the middle of your thighs. Satoru is careful, testing your mounds open so he could press his tongue in between. Lapping your pussy lips the same way he would make out with you.

The imminent pleasure is jarring as you try to push back the wanton moans from your husband's tongue. As if he heard your suppression of moans, Satoru sunk his tongue deeper inside your walls, feeling your walls pulsate and your breathing more shallow. Your hands tried pushing him away to save face but your body convulsed in the middle of the rapturous sensation.

Satoru wasted no time pulling down his shorts, he pressed a bite on your neck before grabbing your hand to palm his shaft guiding your hand up and down as he groans like a wounded lion, needily gasping at the pleasure your hands stroking his aching member. "I'll get you pregnant," he promised sincerely with passion staring at your blown-out eyes, "Gonna fill you up with my seed until you can't hold it in."

You sighed, wrapping your arms around his neck as he slowly entered your core. Feeling the tip pop into your quivering passage. He slid into you with ease, pushing his cock back and forth while he kissed the corner of your lips, feathering more along your jaw as his thrusts got deeper and faster. Your hot walls caressing him so tightly it's so hard for him to hold back.

Crazy. You are driving him crazy. There was an equal amount of gentleness and roughness to his movements that sated the both of you perfectly. His scent, the beads of sweat forming on his forehead, his throaty moans. Even his moans are too much, too sexy making you clench around him, whining and begging in between.

While your legs were tangled around his waist, his mouth latched onto your tit when he gave each bosom a lavish suck making your pert rosebuds tingle and hard. Soon enough this will be the most tender globes that'll keep him preoccupied latching on to you. It was until he began increasing the speed of his thrusts that you could no longer contain your wanton cries, "Satoru! Slow d-down ahm!"

"Cum," he whispered in your ear, knowing full well that your orgasm was building back on your lower abdomen, "Cum for me, Baby."

"'Toru!" Breathless and twitching from your release, your nails dug into his back that you're sure was gonna bleed as you gripped around his girth, milking yourself around his cock followed by your helpless cries. Your chest was rising and falling heavily after your climax, but did you think Satoru was done?

He watches your eyes grow droopy from exhaustion, letting you breathe for a second or two before smirking as he pulls your legs to wrap around his waist, sheathing himself back into your soaking core.

"Ahhh! S-Satoru? W-wait!" You cried.

Grunting at the sopping sound of his shaft slamming inside you while you clung to him in your weariness, moaning and crying his name.

"Don't think so Baby, you're so wet." Satoru drawls at you, his voice dark and teasing, hissing when you suddenly clamp around him.

You loved it when Satoru is a bit rough and wild to an extent. It's when his pleasant mask slip and reveals the raw emotion beneath him. When he losses control, desperate for you. Satoru needed you in those moments. And you are more than willing to accept every inch of it.

Pouring his emotions into you, groaning his anger into your ears before biting the hollow of your neck to mark you with his teeth like tattoos adorning your skin. You loved it when your husband vented his frustrations into you. When he finds the invigorating relief in your tight heat. He never forgets to make sure to fuck orgasm after orgasm out of you to hear your cries and feel you cream around his hard cock.

It was so heady that Satoru could only groan out ruthless profanities as he thrust so hard making sure he was so deep into you. "Fuck, fuck, fuck! Shit Baby!" You clenched around him as he spurted thick jets of cum right into your womb. "Baby... You're too good, fuck!" His breathy grunts were released when his hips fell out of rhythm. Hot dollops of his seed were shot straight into your womb, ensuring that every drop of his cum was sitting deep into your cervix. When he pulled out, you could feel his warm semen seeping out of your entrance because you were clenching naturally, twitching from muscle memory of his cock inside you as you gasped for air. He kept thrusting shallow thrust into you until there were no more but faint ropes spilling from his shaft.

Satoru didn't stop until you were a begging mess, shaking from pleasure and exhaustion, pussy twitching from the last one of numerous orgasms, making his thick milky cum trickle out of you while he kept his shaft nestled in your pussy keeping anymore of his seed from escaping as he watches your eyes flutter close with a satisfied smug smirk on his handsome face.

"You look beautiful, Baby." he expressed with a chuckle, adoring the way you nuzzle into his neck, exhausted. He stared at you like you were the most precious thing this dark world has ever given him. And it only took a minute for that sinful lust to fade into tenderness as he sees you slump forward. Satoru was very much proud to see how much cum he had inside of you but he needs to take care of you too.

Stepping into the house, he walk on the stairs leading to your bedroom and slowly pulled out of you to grab a towel but your soft whines halted him making him look back to the bed to see you trying to get up.

"Stay, with me." You breathe, looking at him with pleading tired eyes.

"I have to wipe you." Satoru kissed your forehead, pulling the duvet to hide your naked body or else he'll ravage you mercilessly again. "I'll be quick."

"Nooo, hold me." You frowned sleepily.

Satoru finds it adorable when you become so whiny, so needy. It's one of those days when you need him more than usual. With no words left, he climbs on the bed, joining you, letting your head lay on his chest as he closes his eyes while stroking your head.

Not a minute he could feel something grinding down his half-hard shaft.

"Fucking stop it, minx." He whispered darkly, dragging his words into a deep slur.

But damn that little demon with a pitchfork of yours acting up again. A soft hand grabs his erect shaft, slowly sliding into your soaking pussy making your husband cuss and grab your hips and seize your lips for a sloppy kiss.

"You naughty woman. You're not walking out of here until I'm done."

The soft sun peek through the sheer curtains of your bedroom. It was already dawn when you slept and your head is pounding, your body aching, begging for sleep.

"Awake?" Soft kisses rain on your shoulders, a hand pulled you closer and your back collided with a hard chest.

"Let me sleep, 'm still tired." Bemoaning about your sore body. You determinedly shut your eyes despite Satoru's kisses and caresses.

"Breakfast's ready, c'mon I'll feed you, Baby." Satoru wakes up early, which drags you to join him as well.

"Nooooo~" You faked crocodile tears but it never works on Satoru as he effortlessly pulls you to sit on his lap and move the table laden with food.

Defeated, you opened your eyes and made yourself comfortable on your husband's lap, nuzzling into his neck, leaning unto his bare chest, while watching him sip on his mug of tea. Satoru looks damn fine with his messy bedroom hair, sweatpants being the only thing covering his perfectly sculpted body. His dark vivid tattoos kept you busy, tracing them every time you get to touch him.

"Any plans for today?" Satoru offered you a piece of toasted sourdough with egg, bacon, and cheese on top. It's a meager meal but the effort is so much more than enough. Knowing there's nothing much in the fridge yet your husband still managed to fix you a meal. 

"Nothing much, anything you wanna do 'Toru?"

He shook his head and cradled your back, making you lean on his chest and you listened to his staccato heartbeat while he eats.

"Do you really want a baby?" Satoru started out of nowhere, looking at your expression. 

"Of course, do you not want a baby right now?" Your heartbeat started picking up.

"I want..." He kissed your temples. "I do want a child with you. But if the words of people are bothering you don't even mind them."

Satoru knows, how your eyes are cast down when someone mentions the matter of a child. He never mentioned it again to keep you from worrying too much about it. And those who try to challenge him by hurting you with words are swiftly and quietly dealt with. He has never had you for himself only after so long because you left for college and there's so much to catch up with you. He's never in a rush to have a child, as long as he has you.

He would love an heir for his legacy. And for the clan too. But if that's what will tear you away from him, then it's not even an option, to begin with. A child pales in comparison to you in his eyes. Without you, it'll all be meaningless.

"It's not about them, I do want a baby Satoru, I want a family." You bit your lips, a habit you've never grown out of. Fingers starting to fidget with panic in your eyes. But Satoru held your hand, bringing the back of your hands to his lips before your doubt spirals.

"I want it to." Satoru lifted your chin with his finger and kissed you softly. "So don't worry too much about it Baby, I promised you. We'll do this slowly, together." He knows how badly you wish for a family. "This lifetime belongs only to you wife." He whispered like a prayer.

"As I to you." You nod, feeling his arms tighten around you. As long as your husband is here, it's enough to set your heart at ease.

The comfortable silence is interrupted by a phone call. Satoru reaches for his phone and the sudden frown adorning his temples forebodes an ominous feeling in your heart. The call was followed shortly by your husband's gruff replies. It was brief and the call ended.

Satoru looks at you and breathes as he held you closer in his strong arms.

"Pack your bags, we need to go home Baby, your father is ambushed."

—GreyCaelum

PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME

Check out the Masterlist for more

All rights and credits of the Jujutsu Kaisen character(s) mentioned image(s) and song(s) used belongs to their respective owner(s)

General Series Taglist: @ice-icebaby @aeanya @lexiene @tender-rosiey

[tommi3boy]

“I wouldn’t mind seeing your face here every once in a while.” | {SDV Harvey x gn! Reader}

Word count: 820

Warnings: minor injury, no name used

Pairing: Harvey x gn! reader

A/N: Farmers first interaction with Harvey, a little bit of corporate worker angst at the beginning but mostly fluff

“If you’re reading this, you must be in dire need of a change” grandpa’s letter wrote. Those words spoke true to your situation. The day-to-day of being a corporate slave has sucked all the emotion from your being. You craved something that would bring that spark back. However, trying to bring your grandpa’s land to its former glory has proven to be a major challenge.

You lay awake in the small cabin, your back aches, and you’re desperately trying not to itch the bug bites on your arms. You’d be kidding yourself if you acted like the tremendous amount of physical labor was fulfilling. There was no turning back though, you had to put faith in your grandpa’s action for gifting you this opportunity.

Your first batch of parsnips were finally ready to be dug up. This was a huge achievement in your book, feeling that spark of joy flutter in your chest. You set off to town, hoping to get a couple bucks off the parsnips at Pierre’s general store.

Pierre seemed kind of shocked that you managed to actually grow some produce at the farm. He applauded your hard work and was thrilled about getting some more fresh produce in the future. Such a friendly interaction had brought on more of that fuzzy feeling you had been missing.

While you were in town, you needed to grab some basic first aid tools to clean up your blistered hands.

Unfortunately, Pierre’s didn’t carry such things, so you were ushered to head next door to the clinic.

This was your first time in the clinic since moving. The man behind the counter was scribbling something on paper when you entered. He looked up at the sound of the door.

“Hello, are you by chance the new farmer in town.”

This guy was nothing like what you imagined the town doctor to look like. He was quite handsome to be honest.

“Yup I’m the new farmer, sorry for not coming by to introduce myself earlier; I’ve been pretty busy.”

“No worries, my name is Harvey, I’m the town’s one and only doctor. Is there anything I can help you with today?”

He had that friendly kind of expression where you could see more of his smile in his eyes than on his lips.

“Nice to meet you Harvey, I just need some first aid supplies to keep at the farm. I’m new to this whole lifestyle, so I’m kind of a hot mess right now.”

His expression change was very animated, maybe a little amused at your words but also a little worried.

“Oh my, I bet that’s been rough. I can definitely lend you a first aid kit. Since you’re here, why don’t I fix you up.”

“Are you sure? It’s just minor things, and I’m sure you must be busy being the only doctor in town.”

You looked over the counter and saw he was doodling airplanes on a piece of scrap paper.

“I don’t mind one bit; it’s my job to help after all”

You were sat down in a small room and watched Harvey put some hydrogen peroxide on a cotton ball to clean your blisters with.

“This might sting a little so bear with me.”

It sure did sting. Harvey was being really gentle about his care. He often looked up to see if you were making any sort of pained expression.

“So, what brought you to the valley? You said this was a new lifestyle for you; was there a sudden urge to become a farmer?”

You let out a small pained chuckle. “God I wish, I mean, it’s hard work but it’s satisfying. To be honest, I came to Stardew Valley on a whim, wanted a fresh start.”

“Ah I see, it’s a lovely town so I can see that sort of appeal. Try not to push yourself too hard though.”

You know he’s just saying that because it’s his job to care for the townsfolk’s health, but he seems really genuine with his words.

“I’ll make sure you don’t see me here too often,” you said jokingly.

“That’s the goal, but I wouldn’t mind seeing your face here every once in a while.”

Was that flirting? Maybe just friendliness, since this is a professional setting. You’re definitely a little flustered either way.

Harvey made a small care package of first aid items for you to take home. Your hands had some bandages on them, and he even went to the length of putting some ointment on your bug bites.

“Take care now farmer, and welcome to the town. I’ll be here if you ever need anything.”

“Thank you Harvey, you’re a really kind person.”

There was a little bit of rosiness in his smile when you left the clinic.

This new lifestyle of yours is really starting to pay off, you haven’t felt this kind of contentment in a long time.

[shadooper]

Emergency Doodle Commissions and Donations

As you might know things are going quite badly and I have to move soon. I am disabled and unable to work and my mom's ex bf is basicly kicking us out of the house. I am raising money for the move and the bills to get me, my mom, and my friend moving with us in Florida. Any help in donations of any amount will help tremendously. This is the kind of simple style I can do right now due to my intense hand pain being a problem:

You can donate and hear the story at gofundme; or commission me with tips at my kofi!

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Whenever my sinuses get really bad, my mouth starts producing a tremendous amount of saliva. At some point I got this idea that there is a pressure cooker somewhere in my mouth which heats up when the back of my throat is irritated and makes me produce more saliva. I was going to go to sleep but I had to stop and doodle this diagram

[whereismyhat5678]

Hey please read this before hand!

I made some doodles of Pizza Head again but this time I put A LOT of blood, SO PLEASE, if you don’t wanna see tremendous amounts of blood being shed (or just in general) please don’t look under the cut! <:]

If you don’t wanna look, take this for your troubles:

For the people who wanna see it, you may:

I LOVE DRAWING BLOOD.

[profanepurity]

“Date Night” & Ghoul Doodles

So this started out as just a super self indulgent TerzOmega blurb to try and get some happy chemicals flowing in my brain... and then it became over 1600 words lol. 

So here’s a little fic I’m calling “Date Night” 😈 I’m throwing these super old ghoul sketches here too just for a little extra 👹

CW: This fic is within my Praeteritum AU! I really like the idea of TerzOmega when Terzo is still a Cardinal and Omega is one of Papa Secondo’s ghouls (Infestissumam era masks 👀) There is also blood, death, and some suggestive content, but it never gets into explicit sex. I only did one pass through this, so there’s probably spelling mistakes in here too lol

Enjoy 🖤

There were very few things that Omega would not do for Terzo.

He still remembers, of course, when Terzo’s oldest brother, Papa Emeritus Primo, summoned him and Alpha as part of his coronation. Omega was an infernal beast, his age hailing in comparison to any human’s. While the powerful fire ghoul was definitely worthy of praise, Alpha was not the true spectacle of the ritual. A quintessence ghoul is, and has always been in the church’s history, a sacred element out of all the ghoulish creatures that lurked in the pits. A new quintessence ghoul had not entered the ministry in nearly a century. Nihil’s own having been passed down from his father, and his father’s father , and his father’s father’s father, and his father’s father’s-

Anyway.

Primo’s ritual was not only flawless, but exceptionally fruitful. However, Omega’s initiation into the church was not his most fond memory. Despite his service under Primo being comparatively miniscule to the span of his life so far, he had grown a deep respect for the old man. Even his current service under the second, Papa Emeritus Secondo, he has grown to appreciate. But it was the moment the ghoul was introduced to Cardinal Emeritus Terzo, His Dark Excellency’s youngest brother, that will perhaps forever be scorched into his mind like a brand glowing white from the fires of hell itself. The adorned high clergymen stood defore the demon, hands folded neatly behind him, and met his gaze directly. A direct challenge towards Omega. Those mismatched eyes that Omega can sometimes feel staring at him even when Terzo is out of his line of sight, were undeniably hungry. 

To no surprise, that tension snapped not long after. Lust was not something Omega nor Terzo strained themselves from indulging in. What the ghoul was surprised by, was that hunger in the Cardinal’s eyes revealing itself to be more than carnal. One night, Omega found himself seated in Terzo’s office at some unholy hour, while Cardinal Emeritus sat across from him.

Terzo enjoys talking, that is simply common knowledge. So you can image how the devilish creature was some what stunned by small, fragil human holding one of his claws in his hands in a comfortable silence. His thumb traced over scars and lines in Omega’s palm, felt the way his muscles flexed as he so gently moved his hand as if he could somehow hurt the ghoul, and dared to lightly press his thumb against the sharp ends of his nails that could tear through his flesh with ease.

Terzo looked up at Omega with a foolish amount of trust. He was still holding that large claw that usually was wrapped around his throat, gripping his hips brusingly, or fisting his black hair mercilessly. One of his Papa’s two little shadows, as him and Cardinal Copia have been commonly referred to as, was completely unaware of how he captivated the infernal creature so tremendously. Or perhaps he was aware, as Terzo loved allowing himself to be perceived as more innocent than he truly was.

Maybe that is why Omega is drawn to him so. Something wicked constantly boiled under both of their skins, threatening to burst through and engulf them both.

“Want to go see a movie with me?” Terzo’s lips curled up in that handsome curve, looking up at Omega past his lashes.

An ancient demonic creature, capable of mentally breaking the man infront of him with but a few words, leaving him a broken, hallow shell; a screaming, tormented, pitiful husk begging to be put out of his misery, just asked him out on a date. The Quintessence Ghouls were made exquisitely by Lucifer himself. He gifted them with the ability to torture man flawlessly, with divine perfection in their sheer brutality upon man’s mind and soul- shatting it completely. Omega simply blinked slowly at the question.

Again, there are very few things that Omega would not do for Terzo.

The ghoul had excused himself the next day, politely informing Papa Secondo that he was being summoned by some of the high members of the church to attend a meeting involving worhsip of the Old One, as having ghouls present always improved the connection. Thankfully Papa seemed to approve and dismissed him with no inquires, too deep within his studies. A small infant was tucked into his lap as he sat at his desk. He could only finding time to hold his new born daughter during moments like this at his desk.

Omega bowed to his excellency and his heir gratefully. Only an hour later was he fully glamoured and driving Terzo’s own car, with Cardinal Emeritus, still sharply dressed as always, sitting in the passenger seat. Omega supposed he should take advantage of moments like this. It would not be long before Terzo would inevitably become Papa, and his face would be far too known for them to go out without at least several fan interruptions. At least for now they could enjoy whatever cheesy horror movie Terzo had bought them tickets for in peace.

Peace.

Perhaps that was the true realization that should be considered here. Peace is never going to be something that is permanent in their lives. Omega is, and always will be, a creature of Hell.

Looking back on it, Terzo really couldn’t be upset. He never really was, even as he watched Omega lunge and grab the man with barely glamoured claws. Even as he gazed upon blood and flesh tearing from the man’s throat, he never grew disgusted, he only watched his beloved’s teeth sink into the man’s jugular unnervingly fast. The inhuman snarl that errupted from somewhere in the demon’s chest had made his blood run cold… and all his blood rush down.

Maybe Terzo just hadn’t fully processed that he was watching Omega maul someone. Only a few minutes ago they had parked out on the street and bought a hand full of hours from the parking meter, before beginning the walk through the alley way that would lead then towards the entrance of the theatre. Terzo’s decision to take that route was just a convenient short cut. It had been a while sine Omega had been in public with Secondo’s next tour still being a ways off. Terzo had figured the less open route would give the ghoul as little exposure as possible, and avoid a potential incident like this.

The man had been most likely drugged out of his mind, approaching them out of the shadows of the alley with an uneven saunter and mumbling incoherent noises that only vaguely sounded like words. Admittedly, Terzo hadn’t seen the sharpened object in the man’s hand immediately, and was shocked by the sight in a brief moment of vulnerability. Terzo would have been capable of regaining control and handling the situation by his own means, but his reaction time was nothing compared to Omega.

It was an instinctual reaction in self defense. In his mind, Terzo helplessly attempted not to read it as Omega protecting him. He desperately rationalized it, letting it ring as a harsh reminder that Omega was not human. That this behavior was simply a part of his nature.

No, the demon that not three days ago Terzo had caught holding the bundle that was his new born niece so gently within his great arms while Sister Diana focused on an urgent task, looking at the baby with a strikingly soft gaze behind that black mask, could not have just stepped in front of Terzo to guard him. He wasn’t ready to believe that.

Satan below, the way Omega’s eyes blazed as black smoke puffed from him with every exhale. The way his claws threatened to reveal themselves as his fingers noticeably blackened, twitchiing and flexing as they trembled from adrenaline.

But when Omega looked back at him, blood streaking across his mouth, he must have noticed the look of astonishment on his face. Terzo almost missed the way Omega’s ears would move back like a cat when he was stressed, since he couldn’t see it now with the glamour. The Cardinal could still somehow see the ghoul doing it. He didn’t know what made him want to drop to his knees more, the primal, horrific rage he had just witnessed, or the way Omega’s eyes expanded like two black orbs in his head and tail accidentally slipped from his glamour to nervously swat behind him.

“Shit- I-”

Terzo had grabbed the front of his shirt and practically dragged Omega down into a kiss. He was only successful in doing so because of how it stunned the demon. The metallic flavor of blood mixed with that sweet taste that Cardinal Emeritus could only place on a ghoul’s tongue was intoxicating. Terzo’s hands moved through Omega’s hair, slid down his broad chest, down his waist, kissing him with a feverish haste, as they reached his belt loops and-

Terzo only broke for air after he was sure his own mouth was streaked with the blood. Another low growl rumbled quietly from Omega at the sight of Terzo taking a few steps away from him. Now Omega was panting for an entirely different reason. Tiny fangs flashing behind the crimson smirk he infuriating gifted Omega.

“Grazie, mio diavolo. Let’s go, I don’t want to miss the movie.”

Fucking hell. It was all Omega could do not to slam him against the wall of the alley way when Terzo batted those pretty lashes at him, like he hadn’t just been about to grab his-

Another growl reverberated through him as his tail thumped on the ground hard once, twice, and then disappeared after the third. His full glamour returning.

“..... Fine. I want a fucking icee- a blue one.” he grumbles.

“Of course, amore. Oh- and remember to wipe that blood off before we go in.”

For some reason, no one questioned the concerning red stains on their sleeves while they were ordering that icee.

[letters-from-dekarios]

picture of val if needed ^ :) [Valentine is a redeemed durge tiefling barbarian who is still doing his best to abide by Gale’s request to send letters while he is away. He is a sweet, affectionate, if not a little oblivious, man who will lend a helping hand to anyone who needs it, even if his hands are full, or covered in cuts and bruises.

 Luckily, Valentine’s handwriting has improved tremendously since his first letter and nearly every word is legible. This letter is written on a page torn out of a sketchbook, evident by the rough edge on one side of the paper. There are small doodles around the edge of the page as if the person writing had gotten distracted while trying to think of what to say.

After the events in the main campaign, he and Gale get married, and the two of them occasionally visit old friends. (that scene in-game was so cute btw) However, this time, Gale was too busy to come with him, leaving Valentine to visit Halsin on his own. (I wasn’t sure how to write this so I hope this is ok! D:)]

My beloved Gale,

I am still a little upset that you sent me all this way all on my own. Although I am a very capable man, your company is still always appreciated on these journeys. 

When I arrived in what used to be the shadowlands, Halsin was very eager to greet me. Although, he did deflate a bit when I explained to him why you weren’t with me. I’m sure he understands that you are very busy as a professor. Although, he requested that you visit with me next time. He says that he misses your witty humor. (I do too at the moment.)

I saw the owlbear cub that we sent home with Halsin at the last reunion. He looks wonderful! He has grown a significant amount, I’m not sure he realizes this. Still, I rough-house with him nonetheless, although I can already imagine your complaints about all of the dust in my hair once we’re done. Perhaps you could wash it for me when I return. Somehow, I always miss a patch no matter how much I scrub. I suppose the horns get in the way.

Unrelated, but I feel as though I am getting better at this letter-writing thing. As we have discussed in passing, we lead very different lives before the tadpole situation. From the little I can recall, I did not have to write letters very often. Your pointers have been very helpful, although I am not surprised, you are a wonderful teacher, my dear.

I will be leaving in 3 days to come back home to you. I assume that by the time you receive this letter, I will be well on my way home. I will do my best not to keep you waiting.

Yours forever and always, Valentine P.S. Look, it’s us! (There is an arrow pointing to a small doodle of two stick figures holding hands.)

Sweet Valentine,

I send my sincerest apologies for being unable to make the journey with you this time around, my love. Be it any other time and I would have gone readily with you, but with my nose so deep into my work, it is hard to pull away. I promise to make it up to you when you return.

Give Halsin my regards as well. I am sure he understands, but I hate to even think of the big bear of a man upset over something so trivial. I’ll make sure to write him when I catch a moment to myself.

Be careful with the cub, darling! Though I am pleased to hear he is doing well. I had no doubts about the young creature growing just fine on his own, but with Halsin he is sure to have sprouted quite a bit since I last saw him. Give him some pets for me, darling.

You are improving quite a bit with each correspondence we send, my love. It feels as though only yesterday I was teaching you how to address an envelope, and now you are sending them entirely on your own. It warms my heart to know you were willing to learn something so mundane for me. For us. I’ll have you know I’ve kept every last one of your letters, and this will be added to the growing pile.

I await your return home, my love. Though it has only been a few days since you left, my heart longs to be close to yours once more. May your journey home be safe and quick, darling.

Always yours,

𝑮𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒌𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒔

P.S. I think I may have this letter framed simply for your drawings. You should teach an art class!

text reads: gale dekarios

[princeimaginatesblog]

Thank you for all the followers and likes, unfortunately I need to let everyone know that I will be taking an hiatus for indefinite amount of time. I might post a few doodles here and there, but otherwise I'm not sure if or when I'll be back posting full time. My reasoning is because I honestly have just lost the passion and excitement for creativity and can't bring myself to write or draw much anymore, as it is really starting to effect my mental health. I'll still be active on social media, being online helps tremendously.

Other than that, I've recently been diving into Black myth: Wukong, so that's where I'll be.

[chainsandcherries]

so i've been having A Time this week, likely courtesy of ✨️PMDD✨️ which magnified a normally manageable amount of stress about some family things (now resolved), work, the house being too messy to function and the kittens waking me up at ass o'clock

i won't lie and say that i've handled it well - my husband really is a patient man and i wish i could show myself the same grace he's shown me. but by last night i was feeling leveled out enough to have a lil edible moment, which backfired tremendously! basically, i started panicking about how out of pocket i feel like i've been acting and fell into that typical spiral of self-loathing. i was also having some pretty strong physical symptoms, with my legs trembling, short breaths, etc.

so instead of riding it out like i usually do when i have a bad gummy time, i got out my paints for the first time in months and just doodled through it. that gave me something to focus on other than perceived anger from others and i gotta say: do recommend

looking forward to painting again, with less distress this time

[mismess]

sorry if this has been asked already, but are you doing artfight this year?

Don't worry you are all good ! I wasn't going to but I literally just spontaneously joined in djjfehhd I don't have a tremendous amount of motivation so I only plan on doing little doodles BUT I'm there, my username is MisMess :-)

[mikoriin]

Hey. I saw your art post and I want to say that I feel for you. I post art and fics too in my blog but I am unpopular so I thought that was the reason why nobody reblogged my stuff. But then I see it's been happening to a lot of people. I'm genuinely upset by this and I do hope you feel better and your art and creations get the recognition it deserves.

same to you!! creators work hard to make something from our minds, whether its a drawing or a piece of writing. and often times there are so many hidden gems among the pile. ive been on tumblr for 11 or 12 years at this point, and i can say i have witnessed the shift myself. fandom used to last longer, art posts and fics got an even amount of likes to reblogs, there was a lot more circulation going on with the content on this site. art pieces for fandoms got over 10k notes just for doodles. i definitely have had fandom art in the past get 10k or so notes, but now that my art is tremendously better than it was in 2016 or something, it doesnt get any recognition.

there's definitely been a shift. if even fandom stuff is lacking, then u can only imagine how it is for original content creators like me. i hope everyone who works super hard on their art, whether it be crafts, drawing, writing, singing, sewing, etc. that your art and efforts be seen and praised. yeah we do this for ourselves, but its nice to have the validation that we are good at what we do and that it brings people joy to see our creations.

[jellofish4000]

Women and Unforgiven

01/11/23

I’ve made the conscious decision to kick this year off with a bang. New Years resolutions have never really been a thing that I partake in but it seems as though I’ve run into some problems I’d like to solve in my life. Problems as a source of inspiration. Always the best type of inspiration. The most effective. One problem led to another: Now I am making my first attempt at reading the ginormanimasous entity of a novel titled Infinite Jest. I am enjoying it tremendously so far. I have not yet experienced the notorious pang of fatigue I have been warned of or the rip-the-book-in-half-throw-it-against-the-wall jolt of frustration, although if I get a little more into it I may very well cross into the rip-the-book-into-various-sections-and-rearrange-it territory I have been advised on. As much as my interest in this novel may pique at a fairly high point within my extensive library of special interests, I can’t see my Obsessive Compulsive Fan disorder ever straying me down the path of book vandalism. My OCF can and has guided me into the murky waters of low quality, disseminated and redisseminated  David Foster Wallace interviews. Obviously you surf the web, but at some point you gotta abandon your surfboard for a boat, a boat for a submarine, a submarine for scuba gear and eventually just take that dive all by yourself until page 30 out of 435 can be seen on the Google search engine horizon. A perpetual trek onwards. Today I find myself at the halfway mark of Wallace’s 1997 interview with Charlie Rose, the part where they bring up the 1992 film Unforgiven. The two men sing their praises for the movie for a minute before moving on, but in that one minute, Wallace mentioned something that offended me. I am offended. 

No, I am not offended. I am joking. But his comment was interesting. Wallace claimed in the interview that all the women he mentioned or showed Unforgiven to did not like it. As a woman, one who did enjoy Unforgiven, I want to formally assert that I am simply not like other women. 

No, I am very much like all other women. I am joking. But I do want to respond to Wallace, because there’s more science to his statement. I’d like to think he contemplated why all the women he surveyed did not like Unforgiven. 

David, if I may, or I can say Mr. Foster Wallace if you’d prefer, I want to explain, on behalf of all women, as the leading ambassador of all women across all space and time, why we do not all collectively like Unforgiven. Some of us do. But regardless of whether we like or do not like Unforgiven, I present my 2023 self before your 1997 presence on Charlie Rose’s talk show to assure you that we all have some same basic level of criticism for Unforgiven. 

As a woman, Unforgiven is entirely unrelatable. The film grapples with some larger, overarching concepts of addiction, particularly to alcohol and violence, and of course, it introduces probably one of the first narratives of the female sex worker as a thought-having, politically active, independent human being in a Western as opposed to the Stagecoach-esque damsel in distress prostitute typical of the genre. That is not the divisive part. What makes this film so divisive among the sexes is its one defining quality: Violence. Sure, this can be said of any high action, high budget, easily digestible box office picture, but a clearer argument can be made in the case of Unforgiven. Over the course of a few weeks last semester, I spent a considerable amount of time with this movie. Mr. Foster Wallace, if you would’ve cornered me outside of my Introductory Film Studies class after just having spent 2 hours and 11 minutes in a dark room full of various university students doodling on their notebooks, fast asleep in their barely-comfortable chairs, drinking water every two minutes just to keep themselves awake, and regretting taking the Film Studies course because they were coming to the slow realization that they had to watch something other than the easily digestible box office picture every other day, my response would have blended in perfectly with all the other women you had asked previously. I did not like Clint Eastwood’s Unforgiven. But later that semester I was assigned a paper on that very film, effectively being forced into a stuffy closet with it until I came back out with various metaphorical hickies on my neck and 2000 words on all the ways it only provided an echo chamber for American hyper-individualistic ideology. 

Mr. Foster Wallace, Unforgiven is so male. You and Mr. Charlie Rose were bound to like it. Having watched and watched and then rewatched, I grew to appreciate the film. I grew to understand how revolutionary it was in the realm of the American Western picture, I even grew to enjoy it. But what I gathered most of all from my dissection of this film was that it was never meant for me. For a woman, I mean. Out of the many things I am, I think my sex is a defining quality. It affects every aspect of my life, including how I, as a tried and true cinephile, consume media. I am generally forgiving (and occasionally funny). Generally very open to the stretching of the truth and the cutting of corners. But this movie is quite stiff and rigid, like an ancient block of cheese. Clint Eastwood, an icon of machismo in U.S. entertainment, is our main character, and although he tries his hand at some revisionism, it falls flat. We are introduced to Munny as a changed man, one with two small children and a pig farm and a humble little home and a deceased wife that forever altered his world view. He’s asked to carry out a hit on behalf of an unfairly abused prostitute and agrees to do so. After holding down the fast forward button for a good two minutes and watching all the little frames go by on the Netflix application, we get to the end where he single handedly massacres a room full of men in a bar, downs a couple shots of whisky, threatens a reporter’s life, swears that he’s not afraid of doing it again, before riding off into the night with an American flag splayed in the shot behind him. Eastwood’s character breaks every promise he had made to his dead wife: He defies every word he said in the beginning of the film about “change” and “better person”. To top it all off, every man in the movie is just as bad as him: If not worse. As a female viewer, a carrot is dangled in front of us in the beginning of Unforgiven. We are enticed with the prospect of a good man, one that has allowed the better forces in his life to infiltrate his soul and give his existence a new meaning outside of senseless violence. By the end, it is clear that we were lured into a trap. The prospect is the kicker here. It is the most redeeming quality of this film and it is yanked from underneath our feet. I am not holding the film in contempt or demanding an end to violence in all movies ever, I am simply speaking for all women when I say: We are tired. As the half of the population that suffers from insurmountable amounts of physical abuse at the hands of the other half: We are tired. We are tired and weary of the prospect. The prospect of non-violence. The prospect of a man that respects us. The prospect of a truly changed man. Getting to the end of Unforgiven is another failed prospect. Same old. Exhausting. 

There are wonderful films out there that partake in copious amounts of violence. The 1993 revisionist Western, Tombstone, for example, is chalked full of ridiculously glorious shoot outs in true Western fashion. But, again speaking on behalf of all women because I am the ambassador of all women everywhere, it is a marginally more enjoyable movie. What makes it much better in some ways is not the absence of violence, but rather a presence of vulnerability. Tombstone gives way to a story we women want to hear. One of true change and eventual peace and prosperity amongst men. Tombstone shows the emotion of man, at first being channeled through the shoot outs and the use of violence, but later on, after the men have realized all the suffering they’ve caused, channeled into a productive and intimate resolution of peace. The small gay love story between a cowboy and a showman rings loudly in the background. The final tender moments between Val Kilmer and Kurt Russell’s characters make room for macho manly men to let down their guards and express love for one another after a long period of hate. The small shot of a wagon full of women passing by with bold “Equal Pay for Equal Work” signs raised above their heads. Johnny Ringo and Doc Holliday’s verbal face offs before finally succumbing to their weapons: Their quirky dynamic subtly emphasizing the idea of violence as a final resort. And in the end, Kurt Russell leaves town not with the prospect of returning to wreak havoc again, but rather with the reality that violence was never the answer in the first place.  Mr. Foster Wallace, the Western can be a wonderful thing. It can be truly revolutionized. Whereas Unforgiven had and still has a grip on the critics and film analysts for its “revolutionary” ways, I want to bring up the question of who is it serving? When men like you ask women like me if we liked Unforgiven and all of us say ‘no’, I think it is fascinating and it deserves to be looked into. It’s not “because it’s a Western (Which it’s not)” as you told Charlie Rose or because we can’t see its value and intentions. Of course its intentions are clear. It has always been abundantly apparent that Unforgiven was a rarity in Western cinema when it came out. But Mr. Foster Wallace, if you were a woman that had seen that tired story play out a thousand times in the world around you, would you “like the film?”

[freeced]

How do you do it all? You make fantastic music. You write and draw little ghost comics. You manage multiple social media accounts, AND you're adding little doodles to your asks? Where do you find the time?

See, it's funny because - first of all, thank you - see it's funny because I don't feel like I really do all that much! I've always had way more ideas for things than I've had energy to DO those things, and so any amount of completed work I do put out pales in comparison to the vast scrap heap of things I'll realistically never get around to. As a matter of doing so many DIFFERENT things, well, I kind of feel like a great wheel of cheese tumbling down a mountain. I didn't have anything when I started, but it's been a long time now and new interests just seem to stick. Some of them stay stuck on pretty tightly for a while (like comics) and have just now come flying off in a direction that everyone can see them. Cheese similes notwithstanding... I think I'm pretty bad at actually managing social media accounts! True social media managers have schedules and plans and look at data and know how to engage an audience and I...I just talk. When I have to actually promote something, it's very hard for me not to be apologetic about it because I just assume nobody wants to see it. Not that nobody wants to see the THING, but that nobody wants to see me POST about the thing. I'm a work in progress. My own projects - comics, the music and videos on my YouTube channel(s), my podcasts, when I have one, streaming, when I remember to - actually occupy the minority of my time because I'm always so busy doing the other work that pays the bills more consistently: writing for other channels, VA, vocal/instrumental/songwriting comms, features, and so on and on and on. And on. Even still, I don't really feel like I do all that much at all, because I have a little thing in my head that tells me I'm lazy and another little thing in my head that never stops giving me ideas. I don't mind the second one so much. But because of that, I'm not sure I really know how to relax. I've been making more of an effort to lately, which is perhaps both paradoxical and self-defeating, but I did read a book cover to cover in a cafe a few weeks ago instead of working like I normally would and I think that's a tremendous stride. That said, I still haven't managed to convince myself that it wasn't a waste of time, because I've read that book before, and I just now realize that I also persuaded myself that it was okay at the time because it's one I've always wanted to adapt into a screenplay and it counted as work. One step forward, two steps back. But it's a damn nifty moonwalk.

[chthonicgodling]

putting a tremendous amount of effort into something that 1) is supposed to be a dumb doodle and 2) needs to be finished by tonight……. El oh el

[garybrower]

The Natty Bumpercar Bumperpodcast

The Bumperpodcast is an oftentimes hilarious weekly romp around Headquarters, in Coffee-Can Alley, with Natty Bumpercar and his entire gaggle of pals! Giggle in wonder as Robot sneaks into the studio. Smile with joy when Baby Bumpercar visits the studio. Stare with amazement when Doodle Poodle and a bunch of other characters say a lot of things about a lot of things and just know that Pig is the best pig that has ever stepped to a microphone - ever. A lot of tremendous stuff can happen in a short amount of time - and we prove that every week on the Bumperpodcast! Listen Bumperpodcast on Apple Podcasts.