#Doubt Answers

[iamyourdoubt]

@asksilvaantrum well well well, I see you're still floating about here, are you not? [ Ellowyn ]

Most wouldn't seek such a creature. Most wouldn't want to find it. Its presence is far from unrecognizable, though. A pressure that for most beings could almost be felt like an anxiety. This traveler, though, would not be among most.

"Floating..."

"Drifting..."

"Every now and again even one such as me needs to dream. Drift away for a while and rest. My sibling looked over me while my thoughts became scattered, but they coalesce again all the same. Doubt does not cease so easily."

"So what brings 'Mother Dearest' to come check on something like me? So desperate to go anyplace but boring old home that you would come here? Tired of watching mortal missteps gather like snow in an avalanche in worlds over? You seem to run around a lot, reminds me of a creature I've witnessed. He never stopped running, either."

@asksilvaantrum

[technically-human]

You've got so much to learn

[penn-dragon]

Another Riptide comic for @summerofspock and @vidrith because the last chapter had me thinking about how interesting fishman Zoro in Arlong Park would be

[dcxdpdabbles]

Danny: Hi, am I speaking to Petter Todd?

Jason: Yes. What is this regarding?

Danny: I saw your posting online for the house for rent, and I was wondering if it was still available?

Jason: Yes, it is. Can you tell me a little about yourself?

Danny: Sure. I'm a second year college student. I make about - I'm sorry, was that a gunshot?

Jason: No ,*bang bang* I live near a fireworks testing center.

Danny: .....okay anyway, I-

Goon: Boss we're surrounded!

Jason: I'm going to have to call you back Danny. Is this a good number?

Danny: Um yeah.

Enemy goon shouting: I'll kill you Red Hood!

Jason: *hangs up*

Danny staring at his phone in horror: I never told him my name.

Jazz: I told you the listing was too good to be true. Now we have Red Hood on our asses.

Danny crying: I'm sorry I have shit credit, Jazz. Not all of us knew to get a low limit secured credit card at 16!

[obsessedwithstarwars]

Okay you can’t tell me that Vlad doesn’t have an organ somewhere in his mansion. Upon learning of this, Danny would teach himself how to play the Haunted Mansion theme on the organ and play it at 2am.

Vlad Masters is away on business in Gotham, and the Fentons are coincidentally there for a symposium on ecto-activity. So it’s perfect! Except he goes to the wrong house, er mansion.

Honestly, Danny thought it was one of Vlad’s many mansions. Scaring the old man is his favorite activity after all. There’s a higher amount of ectoplasm here, so it has to be Vlad’s place right?

When Bruce comes out (on one of his few nights off) and sees his carbon copy playing the organ, all thoughts fly out of his head. Danny finally looks up and also blue screens. They stare at each other for what feels like an eternity until Danny’s cell phone rings (the ghostbusters theme??) and he panics. He jumps up and makes a break for the other door rushing through apologies “SorryWronghousegottagobye!” And runs out of the room. “Wait! Who are you?”Bruce exclaims as he rushes after him. They’re on the second story in one of the rooms he rarely uses. How did he know where the organ was? No matter. He’ll catch the kid on the stairs.

Except the kid is already almost at the bottom. How did he get down so effortlessly? The kid practically floated down the stairs.

Bruce gets to the foyer just in time to see the kid realize the door was dead-bolted in multiple spots. He won’t be able to undo them all before Bruce catches up to him.

He slows down and stands behind a pillar, assessing his next move. He needs to be careful here. This is a child after all, no need to spook him any more than he already has. He needs to slowly approach, and ask his questions.

But then the kid does the unexpected. After looking around frantically, he takes a deep breath. Two rings form around his middle and travel up and down his body. His black hair turns ghostly white. He looks back, almost directly at Bruce. His eyes widen as if he realizes he’s being watched. He whispers, barely loud enough to hear, “I’m so sorry, please don’t follow me.” Then, he backs through the locked door and vanishes.

[innocuoussketches]

TT: After you go, what do you think will happen to me?  TT: Will I just cease to exist?

TT: I am scared to not exist.  TT: Aren't you?

[philosophybits]

He has a stormy spirit. His mind is in bondage. He is haunted by a great, unsolved doubt. He is one of those who don't want millions, but an answer to their questions.

Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

[14dayswithyou]

Olivia fell asleep in one of the aisles again...

how do you feel about ren being used in an ai chatbot advertisement?

⌞♥⌝ Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I genuinely despise everything about this so much, and if anyone comes across this ad on TikTok (or anywhere else), I'd really appreciate it if you could report the video and not give it any further engagement.

I'm vehemently against the use of AI that negatively impacts artists, writers/authors, developers, creators, etc., and I don't condone the use of my art and IP without my knowledge and explicit consent — especially when it's being used in a paid ad/sponsorship. It's extremely disrespectful and I have no respect for those who do it.

[monsters-demons-and-heralds-ohmy]

How long was Viktor in the Hexgoop coma? Because I’ve heard everything from days weeks and months in various fics and posts. I feel the need to hammer it down.

How long was Jayce holding vigil and obsessing over what the hexcore was doing to Viktor? Because he was distraught neglecting everything in his personal and professional life for a long while before the scene where Mel visits him exhausted and spiraling clutching Viktor’s cane for comfort to get him to talk to people and stop saying things like “it should be me up there”.

Clue 1 The Council Meeting that Jayce declined to attend: Obviously this isn’t going to be 100% accurate because we only have flashes of Piltover’s medical system but… It was enough time that Salo who was paralyzed and left in agony was able to sit up in a wheelchair and bounce down a set of steps without obvious pain.

It was also enough time that we see of Shoola’s horrific facial wounds are healed scarring.

Realistically this would suggest many weeks too months for that amount of healing to happen.

(Sidenote: Mel Medarda protected Hextech and the whole city in the aftermath of the bombing (which was the job Jayce seems like he was not in a place to do as he immediately shifted his focus from his job to Viktor’s survival). She also took over Jayce’s place as de facto leader in the council meeting and did not push Jayce to leave the lab to attend even though it would have greatly benefited her for him to be there in the vote to not invade the Undercity with Hextech weapons. She had great respect for the fact he needed to be there to care for a loved one. Some people forget that.)

-

Clue 2 The Statue: It was enough time that shortly after Jayce re-emerged to society to attend the memorial for the 3 fallen Councilors we see a massive statue has been fully finished. Again, even rushed that suggests weeks too months.

Conclusion: While for the purpose of creative license it is impossible to fully project a timeframe I would pose it was on the short end at least 6 weeks and a few months at most, and that just makes Jayce’s devastation when Viktor left so much worse.

He waited and watched an took careful notes for long time. He held distraught vigil and from what we’ve seen may have neglected an entire city for Viktor while Mel stepped into the role he was not capable of taking at that point.

He loved Viktor so much it was actually insane the devotion he had to not even leave his side unless absolutely necessary even when he had the whole city waiting he would have rather been there in the lab with Viktor. It brings so much more to his words about leaving the council and how he truly believed he always belonged by Viktor’s side in the lab when he had hardly left either for WEEKS to MONTHS.

[mystical-salamander]

Aaston Lok you intrigue me so....

What is your history with Lasat??

[iamyourdoubt]

"I think you hurt her feelings."

(Sorry, @loupy-mongoose , the joke was that I have a dragon-mew. Her name just happens to be Theory and I use her to send asks. =P )

(Gog, how long has it been since I drew anything?)

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Hi!! Your Cherik is so good and gorgeous 🤩🤩 If you don't mind wanna try to draw some Fall of X Cherik please?

thank you so much !!

i have a couple of ideas relating to the fall of x period specifically since theres. A Lot i wanna play with, so i hope this lil thing may be a satisfactory start :]]

and the obligatory bonus:

[canisalbus]

Hypothetically if. If they had a kiddo. A puppy. Does that hypothetical child have a design in your genius artist head anywhere

.

[ruinix]

Beers and Kisses

Foreword: After you dared Quinn to shotgun a beer and discovering that he can actually do it, he makes you do the same.

Note: We’re picking off where we left off.  This is officially part 2, meaning Part 1 (500 words) is a MUST read for a full experience, but if you don't want to read it, then you are free to do so 🫡. This is still in reader's POV. <- Previous (Part 1: Beers and Dares)

TW/CW: 18+ MDNI, Smut, Alcohol Consumption (heavy on this), Unprotected Sex (protection, sillies), Drunk sex (not really but they’re tipsy for sure), Semi-Public sex, Praise Kink

Word: 2645 words | Masterlist | Taglist

Your nerves are on fire because Quinn taunted you. It’s supposed to be you who’ll do that to him. Well, you didn’t even taunt him. You just made him do it with a small bribe, your puppy eyes, which you know he likes. So, taunting you is annoying. Extremely.

“I bet you can’t,” he fucking said with that hot and beautiful smirk of his. If he’s going to taunt you, he should not look hot. The audacity.

Now, you feel his eyes following you while you stomp your way to the fridge. Shivers run down your spine from heavy and burning attention.

Peeking over your shoulder, you find him still leaning on the railing, but now his back is towards it and with his arms crossed over his chest. His chin is tipped down. His hair moves with the slight gust of wind. The lights you’ve placed on the balcony—actually, Quinn set them up for you—casts a warm glow on his skin, creating shadows that only emphasizes his features. Like his cheekbones, his jaw, the muscles on his neck, and his chest.

You can barely see the shine of beer trail that he still hasn’t wiped away, but you see it and it’s trouble. Why is he not wiping it away? If he won’t, you’ll clean it for him with your tongue—

Then he licks his plump bottom lip.

Wow.

Your head is a mess, short-circuiting the moment he grins, one corner of his lips slightly higher than the other. Such a devastating smile.

What are you doing again?

Oh yes, beer.

You huff, exaggeratedly rolling your eyes—making sure he sees it—before you turn away to get the damn beer. You hear his laugh. Despite being annoyed with him, you smile. You love his laugh. It’s one of the pure things you have ever heard.

It feels good to make him laugh.

It takes all of you not to look back. You’ll have to brave his teasing if you do. You can’t do that. You’re proving a point. Snatching the remaining three cans, which are yours that you keep neglecting to drink. You don’t necessarily like beer. You just bought a six pack one time, and it has been sitting for quite a while. Plus, Quinn doesn’t technically drink anymore, but he does from time to time, especially if you offer him to. Every time. He accepts what you offer, making your heart flutter in your chest. He just effortlessly makes you fall in love with him more and more.

You rush to the balcony, only to pause at the threshold, because Quinn is rolling his sleeves, exposing his hairy and lean forearms. Seriously, does he want you to jump him?

“What are you doing?” you ask in a panic.

“The wind feels nice.” His raspy voice sounds lower. Then he undoes the second button of his shirt, exposing more of his pale skin and his chest. Then another. Holy shit.

Your lips part as you long to touch him. Your legs feel like jelly. Your hands are shaking, so you set the cans down on a table. Biting your lip, you try to control your breathing.

He tilts his head a tad, looking at your eyes, down your lips, then back up. How can somebody be so breathtaking? His eyes look at the beer. A small and deep chuckle escapes him, sounding like a lure to your soul.

He says, “That’s cute. You got extra in case you fail?”

He is fucking with you. Isn’t he? But you don’t care anymore. He can tease you all he wants, and you’ll take it. You’ve been taking anything he gives you, especially in bed or the counter or—

Quinn dangles his key over your head. He’s so close that he might be in the inevitable splash zone, because sure, you’ll prove him wrong. You do know how shotgun a beer, but you’re not great with it. Not at all. Maybe you should’ve just made him flip a water bottle instead.

“What are you waiting for, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. Fucking hell.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you offer him your palm. He’s smiling again. Both lips and eyes turn into crescents. Softly, he places his keys on your hand, deliberately touching the skin of your palm. Then he traces his fingers to your wrist, up your forearm, your shoulders. He gives you a firm squeeze before he slides them down the column of your back. He, then, steps back like he didn’t just ignite your blood.

So, you huff. Your cheeks burn as much as your whole body. It’s all because of Quinn. It’s always him.

Taking a deep breath, your hands shaking, you punch a hole into the can. The beer splashes your face and shirt before you take it up your lips. Your attempt is so clumsy compared to Quinn’s, but you do your best. You gulp the bittersweet carbonated liquid without looking at Quinn, because you will choke if you do.

Probably halfway through the can, he crowds you, gripping your hips. That made you look at him. Your mouth fills up as you forget to swallow. How can you when his thumbs slip under your shirt? He pulls you in with an effortless tug, reminding you of his strength, not minding the spilling liquid.

He’s hard. So fucking hard.

And you’re drenching your panties.

Fuck.

Gosh, you hate beer—

Then everything happens all at once.

He fluidly takes over, drinking the beer for you. Once more, you are mesmerized with him. You only remember to swallow the beer in your mouth when his hand reaches your bra. You shiver, feeling so weak. You pant as beer slides down his throat again. You have enough. No more just watching.

You lick the trail; your soft and wet tongue catches the drips.

The feel of his skin, of his Adam’s apple as he gulps, of the rumble when he groans is divine.

You moan at the taste of Quinn mixing with the beer, at his scent, at his short nails scratching softly on your spine like he’s encouraging you to take and do more. And more.  

So you do.

You lick up his chin, shuddering at the feel of his scruff on your tongue. You’re directly catching everything he spills and it’s turning you on. Your pussy aches. This isn’t enough. You want more. More of his taste with the fucking beer.

Maybe you like beer after all.

When he finishes the can, he drops it and stares at you, panting, but you’re already there. You lick along the seam of lips. You whine at how soft they are—making him use a lip mask and lip balms have taken fruit. The taste of him. It’s all Quinn. He’s letting you do this and it’s doing it for you. You’re so turned on. When you finally kiss him, he instantly reciprocates. His tongue moves with yours, tasting you too.

Oh. You love him so much that it hurts.

Deep, deep inside.

You whimper, conveying your need. You blindly reach for another can. “More?”

He hums into your lips, his free hand finding your cheek first before taking the can. He gives you one last kiss on the lips. “You drink it first,” he bargains, backing you up until you reach the railings, one leg pushing between yours. “Just like the last.”

“Okay,” you breathlessly say, nodding.

“I’ll hold it.”

“Sure, Q.” You do as he says. Using his key again, creating a mess between you two, he holds the can to your lips, and you drink. Your eyes water. Frustration builds. It’s not the same.

Until Quinn starts to shower you the same treatment you’ve done to him.

His tongue creates a trail of fire that shoots straight to your pussy. You are burning. You ache. Every lick. Every nip. Your head swims from his touch and the beer. You feel light and so fucking horny. You grind against his thigh.

That’s all it takes to turn the bittersweet liquid taste like the sweetest thing in the whole world.

“Tastes so fucking good, my Love, my sweet girl,” he praises. He takes the beer to his lips and drinks but not really.  He’s basically letting the beer fall down the corner of his lips. His eyes are telling you, “All for you.”

Grabbing onto his shoulders, you feast on his skin. Maybe you can just drink anything from his skin. Will Quinn let you do that? He’s already doing it with beer. Can you ask for more—

He tugs you back by your hair, his fingers tangling on the roots. What the fuck!

“Quinn,” you whine. “That’s so mean.”

His lips smirk as he draws the last mouthful of beer. The can hits the floor in a clank. To cope, you stare at his throat, wishing to lick it when he gulps, but he doesn’t. He grabs the back of your neck, making you gasp, as he smashes your lips together, transferring the beer to your mouth.

He just did that.

He did.

Quinn Hughes just made you drink from his mouth.

You love every second of it.

“Swallow it. That’s it. That’s my good girl,” he breathes out, making you squeeze your legs and trapping his. “How’s that?” he asks, nipping your lips, as you stare dumbly at him. His hand frees your hair and slides into your pants, into your panties. He groans, sliding his finger along your slick pussy. “So wet.”

“We’re outside,” you say while you grind shamelessly into his touch, unbuttoning his shirt until it’s fully open. You chase after every stroke. He feels so good. You can feel your arousal dripping down your cunt. You dig your nails into his waist. “You’re so hot.”

“Hmm,” he hums. “You’re hot.” His finger teases your pussy, dipping and stretching you. Both of you groan when you squeeze around his fingers. “Wanna fuck you right here.”

“Then do it.”

His pupils almost swallow his irises. The rumble of a growl escapes his throat. The next thing you know is both of your pants are off. One of your legs is over his hip. After he slaps his cock against your aching clit, he sinks into your pussy so smoothly, so easily. The stretch of him makes you roll your eyes, moaning so loudly.

None of you seem to care about the high drop from the balcony—you trust him. Or about the possibility of being seen—they better watch or close their fucking eyes.

None of those matters.

Not when he’s fucking you with a fucked-out expression that’s just for you.

“I love you,” Quinn moan, kissing you as deeply as his thrusts. “You feel divine, my Love.”

Your name spills his lips over and over again. You cling onto his shoulders, your hips moving in a circle that had you both quivering in need, each of your thrust turning choppy and more desperate. His hand goes under your thigh and lifts it so both of your legs are wrapped around him, so you’re all so fucking spread, your arousal drips around his cock, making the lewd sounds of skin slapping louder and louder.

“Quinn,” you whine, biting down on his lip.  You sob, “Faster. More. Please. I’m so close. I need to come.”

“I know,” he consoles, changing up the angle of his thrust, perfectly hitting your sensitive spot. “I have you.”

“Mmfuck,” you pant. Your orgasm builds and builds, your thighs quivering and shaking around him. You seek support using his skin, marking his back with your scratches. You suck and kiss and lick a spot just underneath his jaw, totally marking him as your own.  “Please, please.”

“Just let go, my Love.” His hand slides between you two and finds your clit. “Come for me.”

He gives it a firm flick and you’re gone. You walls shakes and squeezes around him, your eyes rolling up, as he rides out your orgasm. Fuck, he truly knows how to work you.

When his lips capture yours, his cock still pounding and grinding in that sensitive spot that has every nerve in your body into a haywire. You desperately grip him, too scared at how much higher your pleasure is climbing. You want to run away but you also don’t. You want him to continue until you’re fucked dumb. Like always.

Quinn is saying something but you can’t focus. You feel like you are breaking piece by piece while at the same time being built. It feels like your heart will explode as the pressure deep inside your cunt exponentially increases. You’re fucking losing it.

His hand tips your chin up, forcing you to look at him. He asks, voice dropping further, “Where do you want me?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions, Quinn,”you grit.

Again, he smirks. He flicks your clit again, making you whimper. “Still so bratty. I know you’re going to come again. It would be bad for you when I stop.”

“No, Q.” You shake your head, pleading against his skin. He chuckles which makes you desperate for his cum. You can feel his cock throb. You know he’s pulling himself back to make you go insane. He always does that. “Inside. I want your cum in my pussy. You said, you have me. Please.”

He doesn’t say anything and only kisses you until you come so hard that you are gushing, making a total mess, until he comes and paints your walls with his hot cum. Every spurt is making you sigh into his mouth before he decides to press gentle kisses all over your face, licking a few beads of sweat on your skin. You preen, leaning all your weight against him.

Your body feels so satiated with his cock still seated inside you, not letting his cum to spill.

Your soul feels so warm and fuzzy for touch of his lips.

Your heart beats with his. Thud. Thud. Thud.

“Do you want to finish the last beer?” He asks so quietly as he lifts you.

You shake your head, burying your face in the crook of his neck. He takes you and lies you down on the sofa. You hiss as he slides out, his cum dripping from your sensitive entrance, down your other hole, down the sofa. Fuck, you’re going to stain the sofa. Again. Whatever. You’ll make him clean it. It’s his mess.

You watch him put his full attention on your pussy, watch him lick his lips, watch him grip his cock as it twitches. You realize how flush his cheeks are. Not just from fucking you. It’s also from the beer. You know, because that’s a drunken blush. Is he drunk? It can’t be.

“Are you drunk?” You ask, lifting your shirt up so he sees all of you.

His light eyes shoot straight to yours. He lets a second pass before he says, “No.” He for sure is. “Just a bit.”He frowns deep in his thoughts, his eyes getting drawn to your breasts. “Are you?”

“No,” you repeat, smiling and biting your lower lip, “Just a bit.”

Quinn laughs which makes you giggle. You spend a couple of minutes just laughing at your current state. A bit tipsy. Extremely fucked. The thought of it makes you laugh harder. No way, you two just got drunk on what one full can for him plus two beers shared between you. No way.

“This is fun,” he chuckles, climbing over you, slipping his cock in your pussy.

“Quinn. I’m sensitive.” You huff, shivering when he slides his hands under you so he can unclasp your bra.

He helps you out of your shirt so he can cuddle you like that.

“I know…let’s just stay like this,” he says in a silent whisper. “Promise.”

You know that’s a fucking lie.

<- Previous (Part 1: Beers and Dares)

[dohydrate]

Sacrifice.

Drawing’s story:

The more Eddie does un-heterosexual actions, the more the show stops using him for episodes. Eddie is now just a prop for rare occasions. Frank just wanted to put a smile on his goofy face! Not knowing the destruction it would cause by putting the peas too close together.

Eddie doesn’t have his puppeteers to help him express himself right now.

(Fan-made)

[cosmophalhemr]

“Someday”