#🍁🍁 ;; NONSENSE

[misc-obeyme]

How much you wanna bet that we're gonna go back to our timeline but both timelines merge? Honestly I don't want that happening- I'm not a huge fan of merged timelines since Lesson 16- :/

-🍁

To be totally honest, I did not understand what happened in Lesson 16 for quite some time. I had to read what other people said here & then re read the lesson multiple times. It was so convoluted & weird that I didn’t even realize that Belphie killed MC. Because MC was also right there? And then they disappeared??? It was just ??????

I take issue with time travel in general. It’s a tricky thing to have in a story. Because if characters can time travel, then suddenly everything they do has less meaning. They can just go back and fix it!

Time travel should have a lot more rules for it to be used effectively.

And there’s also all the stuff about messing with timelines that just hurts the brain to think about.

But I agree with you, I think they’re likely going to merge the timelines. It’s the only way to have the last two seasons still mean something while also bringing us back to our original timeline.

The only other possibility in my mind is if this is all a magical simulation of some kind and it turns out we’ve never been in the past at all.

Oof the timeline thing is so weird & makes all the already inconsistent details even more out of whack. Like okay anything goes at this point!

[forallnumbersosc]

Gaty!! didja get any intresting information from the "exitors" ??

- 🍁Maple Anon

[OOG IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I HAD TO PROCESS TPOT 11 WHEN IT CAME OUT IM STILL ON AN AUTISM HIGH FROM IT]

ALRIGHT!! I've gotten what I can from the EXITors and compiled all of my notes, it's time for me to show my findings on!!

The EXIT!

So what IS the EXIT?

The best thing I can gather having not been there myself, is that it's an extra-dimensional space that exists within Four. Whenever something is eaten (or... in Four's words "zooped") by Four, they shrink down to accompany the initial "space" of Four's mouth, AKA the only place in his body that is closest to following the laws of Physics... Once you enter that door, things get WAY stranger....

I should also preface that we don't know for sure if every algebralien has such a space, as we have only observed these in Four, who seems to have far more power, or at least.... he decides to use far more power than other algebraliens... It's entirely possible that Four is the only one who has the ability to house a space like this!

LAYER ZERO: The Entrance

Diagram legend:

Four's mouth, one of the entrances to the EXIT. Appears much, MUCH higher up once anything enters Layer 0. This diagram does not show the true depth of how far the floor is from Four's mouth.

Four's OTHER mouth. His main tool of contestant transportation when contestants get eliminated... It's not very visible at all, you'd have to pull back Four's mane to even see it, and even then it's also invisible from the other side!

Skin?? Layer?? Honestly I don't know what makes up algebralien skin aside from the fact that in Four's case it acts as the catalyst for the initial "shrinkage" of anything that enters the space... It also seems to give Four a weakness to fire!

The EXIT door... The entrance to the rabbit-hole...

Strange trees. I don't fully know why these growths populate this area and beyond, as they don't seem to have any sensing function such as taste buds or stomach cilia, but I believe they were the first creations Four practiced on when constructing his inner world... he does think about himself quite often.

LAYER ONE: The Classrooms

Starting with a simple algebra classroom, Layer One is a seemingly endless collection of rooms down a long, winding network of hallways that range from other typical classrooms, to portals to areas outside of the EXIT, and even strange, nonsensical collections of things that are.. well... according to Pencil, "don't deserve a description"...

This layer was the only one accessible to the EXITors for months on end before Liy decided to take a peek behind the curtain... Since I believe the EXIT's vast characteristics were created from personal aspects of Four, it makes me think of just how much Four keeps hidden away about himself... Why does he like school so much??

LAYER TWO: The Fourest

Feeling claustrophobic? Take a trip to the scenic and expansive Fourest! I consider this a bit of a "hub" of the EXIT, as it seems like the most widespread place to put different entrances to other, deeper areas, as well as, of course, the pathway out...

Compared to the classroom, this area is the most "organic" in terms of literally being comprised of Four... The classrooms themselves contain a percent of material created from his own body, but it seems a lot has been taken from outside and placed within... This area, however, is pretty much all him. its thanks to this area that I was able to take some small samples stuck to the EXITors clothing.. and i am SO excited to study it! Ahh!!

LAYER THREE: Below...?

[can you tell this is when mod's hand started to get tired/lh]

The descriptions I got from Match, Liy, and Stapy were pretty... odd... to say the least for this wacky pocket dimension, and its certainly where my knowledge of the EXIT seems to come to a close, as the closest the EXITors got to any deeper level was this strange little castle full of even stranger secrets.... You must admit, Four might be cruel but he has an eye for architecture!

Out of the other layers, this one seems to be a combination of both Four material and outside material, making me wonder if this is where Four keeps his best kept secrets or... maybe even his insecurities?

ADDITIONAL NOTES:

Oh yeah... I heard about this... thing that some of the EXITors encountered... From what I know it seems to be simply another part of Four rather than a thinking creature of its own, but it's certainly hard to say!

I'd like to give a thank-you to Pencil, Match, Stapy, Liy, David, and 8-Ball for your contributions to my research!!

...and an apology to Bracelety, Dora, and Firey Jr for er... bringing up such a frustrating and-- well... traumatic event for this information--

...While I must admit I don't enjoy the fact that the EXIT left these fellow contestants a pretty awful impression of algebraliens, I really am glad we have them back!!

PHEW!!! Now that I have most of my information on the EXIT finally on here, time to get back to some of the other questions I got!!

[gene-eas]

imagine if they had tumblr at devon that’d be so weird right?? i wonder what they would post even???

0 notes

because you follow #just devon things

👤 devon-devoff-drafted19420614

Anyone want to meet in the butt room after dinner?

🍁 private-school-priorities Follow

I’ll be there in a few minutes, I could definitely go for a fag and there’s always plenty down there.

#yes i did realize that this post is from months ago and OP isn’t here anymore after typing that #still going though #just devon things

3 notes

👞 the-awful-gatsby

are you seriously telling me that there's a war going on yet the only guy from devon we know has died yet just fell down a flight of stairs

🦅 catcher-in-the-ryan Follow

And that's after he got pushed off a tree at the end of the summer session. That guy had to have the worst luck.

👞 the-awful-gatsby

funny you mention that considering the reason he fell down the stairs

🗣️ dramatic-pragmatic reblogged

👨‍🏫 best-teacher-tournament-1942

Student testimonies under the cut

Read More

#DR STANPOLE SWEEP!!! #why would ANYONE vote for ludbury what

41 notes

🌳 sssss-official-unofficial

super suicide society nostalgia moodboard

#sssss #super suicide society #super suicide society of the summer session #dark academia #devon

🫤 your-school-is-problematic Follow

can’t believe I have to say this but dni if you support the super su*cide society thing?? it literally romanticizes and fetishizes su*cide. get that nonsense OFF my dash.

🌳 sssss-official-unofficial

WRONG. SUPER SUICIDE SOCIETY ATTACK 🌳🏃‍♂️🌊 🌳🏃‍♂️🌊 🌳🏃‍♂️🌊 🌳🏃‍♂️🌊 🌳🏃‍♂️🌊 🌳🏃‍♂️🌊 🌳🏃‍♂️🌊 🌳🏃‍♂️🌊 🌳🏃‍♂️🌊 🌳🏃‍♂️🌊 🌳🏃‍♂️🌊👨‍🦽

217 notes

[lipglossanon]

nice, possessive dogman leon?!?! i literally had to roll over and kick my legs reading your response pleaseee every single one has me giggling like crazy!! (੭ ˊ^ˋ)੭ ♡

just thinking about him being so desperate to scent mark you and refusing to let you go anywhere if you don’t have at least one article of his on your person makes me giddy! he needs to start taking things up with your owner, because he’s putting them to shame with how well he’s taking care of you!! (ര̀ᴗര́)و ̑̑

and the poor little puppy being soooo stuffed but still finding it in her to beg and plead for leon to give her more; you can take it, you promise! and leon always obliges, he’d never pass up an opportunity to fuck the best cunt he’s ever gotten his hands on again (≖ᴗ≖)

(i love coming to make a house in your ask box, i’m breaking in to spout nothing but nonsense about the dog! ( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ)

; 🍁

AGDJVL 🤭 🙈 I love that you enjoy my silly thoughts so much 🥺

Scent mark! That’s the term I was looking for 😆 but it’s that 100%!! And if you’re out and about in public, Leon will make sure to scent you every hour on the hour just to keep his smell on you fresh 🤭

Ahhhhh 🙈 the begging!! 😳 Leon loves to make you beg but he’s such a pushover for you it really doesn’t take much for you to convince him to do anything 🤭

Like as soon as the owner leaves for the day, you’re pushing yourself into Leon’s space and asking him so sweetly if he’ll mount you on the couch right then and there. He teases you only a little bit (basically the time it takes to get you both undressed 😝) and then he’s leading you down onto the couch by your collar, pushing your face into the cushions as he kneels behind you to eat you out first 😵‍💫

And once you’re begging him to please fuck you, he’s moving up and pressing his cock into your soaked hole, bottoming out in no time and just rails into your pussy. The couch moves cause he’s fucking you so hard but neither of you care 🤭 and finally once he knots you, he’s grabbing your collar and raising you up until your back presses against his chest so he can whisper all the sweet praise right into your ear and keep you clenching down on his swollen cock 🥴

Sorry I got carried away again lmao

[unetherian]

I noticed that a lot of alterhumans (especially a lot of therians and otherkins) are part of the furry fandom.I don't know if it's true or if it's just me talking nonsense 😅.

[dylanlila]

DOCTOR WHO AU: Amy Pond as the Doctor and Martha Jones as well... the Doctor. The point is they are travelling together!!

accompanying playlist: x

happy september @god-nonsensical 🍁💫🧡

[monstrouscrew]

v-day cards and sappy nonsense? not by these hands :D

have this image instead, because sharing activities is fun without romantic flavour, too. another timeline, two main fools of Sleep Token and The Old Spooky Cemetery 👻😈

the original one now belongs to the witch comrade 🦝🍁

(ID in the alt text)

[emmymaehereeeeee]

Don't Ruin the Couch

request: Elvis and the reader are getting freaky on the couch and Elvis tries to pull out, but the reader says, “Don’t ruin the couch.” so, with a smirk, Elvis says “I guess I’ll just have to cum inside you then" -🍁

warnings: smut 18 +, MDNI, degrading, slight choking (hand on throat), fingering, begging, oral (m receiving), Elvis just being rough in general, slight dumbification?

summary: After teasing Elvis at one of his shows, he gets back at you in the dressing room, oh but don't ruin the couch... it's expensive.

word count: 2,514

“You looked real pretty out there tonight, y’know? I will have to start buying you some more y/f/c things.” He had dipped his head into the crook of your neck, you could feel the heat radiating from his skin as he whispered into your ear. Elvis ran one hand up your side, soon resting it on your right hip. “Looked real nice, getting me all worked up on that stage.” His hand trailed lower now residing on the curve of your ass. “That does not bother you though, does it? Bet you like seeing me all worked up for you.” He moved his other hand to replicate his actions, “You always look so good.” 

“Are you going to compliment me all night long or are we going to do something?” You quipped. Elvis flashed you a look you bit down on your lip and looked away from him, “Well?”

 Elvis pushed you up against the door of the dressing room, “You are acting real feisty tonight, what’s gotten into you?” His eyes ran up and down your body, you would not let him win this one. He lifted his hand to tilt your chin up in his direction, forcing you to look at him. 

“What’s it to you?” You mumbled. He gripped your chin tighter, rubbing a thumb over your bottom lip, you opened your mouth and took it in. Swirling your tongue around his tongue, you watched as his eyes darkened. 

“I just hate to ruin such a beautiful dress,” Elvis mumbled, he pulled his thumb out of your mouth and pulled your dress off, you could hear the fabric ripping as he tugged the zipper down rather harshly. Pulling you away from the door he pushed you onto the couch, “Take them off now.” He growled, you pulled your panties off and tossed them in his direction. “Oh you are just asking for it tonight, aren’t you, doll?” 

Offering nothing but a coy smile on your lips for a response Elvis’s hands pulled his suit off of him, biting down on your lip as you watched him. Basking in the light of the fluorescent vanity lights, the way it cast him in an almost angelic light. A warm hand with ring-clad fingers wrapped around your throat, snapping you back to attention. Elvis ran his free hand across the scape of your body, the chill from his rings running across your breasts elicited a small moan from your lips. “Elvis.” His name fell from your lips with such ease, slipping off of your tongue like sweet nectar.  

For a moment he held eye contact with you, no words were said, only silence lingered between the two of you. The moment was almost sweet, until he opened his mouth, “Moaning my name like that, must need me real bad.” His hand trailed down to your awaiting heat, he dragged his pointer finger through your folds and smirked as you squirmed. “Look at you, making such a mess on my couch.” He scolded you gently.

“Elvis, please enough with the teasing.” You begged, your head leaning back against the armrest of the couch. Elvis ignored your nonsensical begging and pushed two fingers into your cunt, “F-Fuck.” You mumbled out, he had honestly caught you off guard.

“Such a nasty word.” He mumbled out whilst curling his fingers deep inside of you, “So needy tonight.” 

You rocked your hips against his fingers, “Elvis-” You mumbled out, he pushed deeper, “ELVIS!” You screamed out. With your eyes screwed shut and your mouth agape, you writhed against the plush couch. “Please I need your cock, Elvis!” 

Elvis pulled his fingers out of your dripping cunt and shoved them into your open mouth, you wrapped your lips around his two digits and sucked. A deep groan left his lips at the obscene sight, “You taste yourself? I bet you taste really good.” He pulled his fingers out of your mouth, a small pop sounded from your lips. He rubbed your cheek softly, “Look so pretty like this, all spread out for me.” He ran his free hand back down to your clit, he spread his hand over the lower part of your stomach with his thumb teasing your clit. You pushed your hips upwards, and he moved his hand which had been previously wrapped around your throat down to your hips. “Needy little thing.” He mumbled out, pushing your hips down into the cushions. 

“Baby please, please I need to feel you inside of me.” You rain your nails down his back, his eyes shifted down to your lips. “Please?” The words slipped out of your mouth, an innocent plea. 

“Move.” You quickly listened and moved off of the couch, your legs felt like Jell-O as you awaited his next command. He positioned himself on his back, you watched intently as tossed the few pillows to the side and placed two behind his head. “Do not just stand there looking dumb, c’mere.” You made your way over to him, lifting your leg to straddle his waist. “Uh-Uh, other way.” You furrowed your eyebrows at him, “I want you to fuck yourself on my cock, you see that mirror?” He gestured to the mirror, “I want you to watch yourself, I want you to see how good MY cock makes you feel, you understand?” Nodding your head you shifted to straddle him, this time with your face away from him. He held your hips and gently guided you down onto his cock, “Fucking Christ.” Turning back to look at him you saw that his eyes were closed and his head was lolled back against the pillows. His eyes snapped open and he saw what you were doing, “Uh-Uh, look at the mirror, do not fucking pout- you better put that bottom lip back right now.” He gripped your hips tightly and slowly started to rock you back and forth, “Doing so good, taking my cock so fucking well.” The words left his mouth with a throaty groan, sounding as though it came from deep in his chest. 

You locked eyes with your reflection, your hand trailed down your body and you allowed your fingertips to tease your nipples. “Elvis” You moaned out, with one hand you continued to tease your clit. Pressing ever so slightly on the small bud of nerves, your hips jolted forward. “Mm, fuck.” Elvis’s hands snaked around and soon were pressing your fingers down on your clit, forcing you to rub small circles around it. All the while you watched yourself ride his cock, you watched as he reached over and circled your clit with his fingers. Pushing your hips forward in a desperate attempt to feel more of his calloused fingers. With your head lolled back in pure bliss, Elvis’s name being moaned out into the air, you felt the all too familiar coil in your stomach soon tighten. “Fuck, Elvis please!” You cried out, the coil finally snapped inside of you. Gripping onto his thighs you rode out your orgasm, Elvis moved his hands to the tops of your shoulders pinning you down. “Elvis ELVIS!” He pushed his hips up into you, you felt yourself clench around him.

“Did you see yourself? See how fucking good you made yourself feel?” He helped you off of his cock, you settled with your legs tucked under you facing him. His legs were still spread open, his eyes seemingly glossed over in a sex-induced haze, you nodded your head up and down in response. “Made a mess on my cock, good girls clean up their messes.” You looked at him with those big doe eyes, “Oh don’t look at me like that, you look pathetic. Clean it up, I am not telling you again.” You leaned over his cock with an open mouth, realizing quickly that you would have to adjust yourself. Untucking your legs and adjusting your legs so that you would be more comfortable, you lowered your head down and wrapped your lips around his cock. You lowered your head, allowing all most of him into your mouth, the feeling of his tip hitting the back of your throat made you gag at first but you soon learned to relax your throat. Slowly pulling him out of your mouth you stopped when you got to the tip, taking a moment to swirl your tongue around it. Running your thumb over the slit, you felt your skin tingle at the sound of his gasp. “Damn it you tease.” He grabbed your hair and forced you to take every inch of him. “When I tell you to do something you better fucking listen.” He thrusted up into your mouth, tears pricked at the sides of your eyes. You wrapped your lips around him and bobbed your head up and down, taking just about every inch you could fit into your mouth. “Fuck Fuck” You looked up at him through your lashes, “Doing such a good job, baby.” He groaned out, “Y/N, holy shit.” He laced his fingers through your hair and pulled your mouth away. “Go clear off the vanity, now.” He growled out, you swung your legs over the couch and moved to the vanity. You carefully placed the array of miscellaneous objects to the side, suddenly you felt a pair of all too familiar hands resting on your hips. “I said clear the vanity off, not organize. With a wide arm, he cleared off the remaining objects, which landed with a small clatter as they met the floor. He bent you over the vanity counter, your ribs hurting slightly at the newfound pressure. He lined himself up and slammed himself into you at a merciless pace. You leaned your head downwards in an attempt to rest your head on the counter. Elvis laced his fingers through your hair and pulled you back up, “Watch yourself.” He demanded, you nodded your head in response. Elvis’s hand snaked around to your front cupping your right breast, “Look so fucking hot like this.”

“P-Please!” You babbled out incoherently, Elvis smiled and sped up his pace. 

“You fucking need it, taking it so well.” The power behind his thrusts was going to cause bruises in the morning, but neither of you about that. Elvis’s eyes were locked on your breasts, he watched with intent. He watched as they moved with each thrust he took, “Jesus.” Elvis thrusted into your tight cunt, the way your pussy felt wrapped around his cock, the way it clenched around him, all of it seemed to push him even further. All of it seemed to make him want to go harder and faster. His movements became more animalistic, his demeanor less dominant and needier, he needed to cum, this was not about the sex anymore. No, this was about his release. His eyes moved from your breasts to your face, which was now contorted with a mixture of pleasure and pain. His legs felt tired, “Couch, now.” He pulled you away from the vanity and all but slung you onto the couch. Pushing himself back into you he now gripped either side of the plush fabric. 

“Elvis, oh fuck- ha me!” You babbled out, you had not one fucking clue what you were saying the only thing you knew was that you were in a pure state of ecstasy. 

“Do not ruin the couch, it’s ‘spensive.” You mumbled out, you arched your back as he thrusted deeply. 

Elvis let out a chuckle, “Guess I’ll have to cum inside you then.” Elvis thrusted into you one last time before bottoming out in you, “Jesus fucking Christ, shit!” He groaned out, his hot cum painting your inner walls. 

“Oh my God, Oh my God” You muttered, you rested your hand over your eyes, Elvis reached up to move it away. “Felt good, E.” 

Elvis smirked knowingly, he slowly pulled out of you. He stood himself up and grabbed a water bottle and a rag and handed it to you. “I’ve got some business to take care of, you clean yourself up. I expect that water bottle to be empty by the time I come back, you understand? I brought you a change of clothes, they are sitting in the dresser drawer.” 

“Thank you, Elvis.” You mumbled softly, you watched as he grabbed his robe and pulled it on, then tied it around his waist. He walked over to you and grabbed the bottle from you, “Drink it.” He unscrewed the cap and handed it back to you, you brought the bottle to your lips and drank the cool liquid. You silently thanked yourself for tossing a few bottles in the ice box before this whole rendezvous. He slipped out of the room and you slowly started to clean yourself. You tossed the rag into the trash and made your way over to the dresser. Pulling on the clean clothes, you glanced back at the mirror that hung over the back of the door. You admired your figure. Snapping out of your thoughts you began to pick up the room. 

“Look at you, just a proper little housewife.” He smirked, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “Hows about you take a pause on your chores and come let me hold you for a bit?” You happily set the brush down and rushed to sit in his lap, your legs dangling over the side. “Pretty as a picture, ain’t you doll?” You nodded your head, a small yawn escaped your lips. “Did I tire you out?” He asked a soft smile playing on his lips. Nodding your head softly, you rubbed your eyes. 

“I'm sleepy” You mumbled softly, Elvis shifted below you and laid on his back bringing you down to his chest. You rested your head on his chest and he played with your hair, occasionally moving a hand down to trace small patterns and shapes onto your back.

 Pressing small kisses to your hair he would occasionally mumble, “You look so peaceful, so cute.” He would cradle your face and rub his thumb across your cheek, you would press a small kiss to the pad of his thumb. “Always such a sweetheart, go on to sleep, pretty girl.” When you opened your mouth to protest he would simply close it for you, “Yes you are tired, yes I am going to stay right here, no I will not roll us off the couch. Now close your eyes and rest, you have had a long night.” 

“How did you know I was goin-” 

“Y/N, sleep.” You closed your eyes and snuggled into his chest, the smell of his cologne filled your senses. Elvis hummed softly as he ran his hand through your hair, you let yourself fall deeper into the spell of sleep. 

Minutes soon turned into hours and Elvis found himself waking up with you gripping at his robe and a God-awful crick in his neck, deciding not to disturb you, seeing as though you were in such a peaceful state, he gently adjusted himself and drifted back off to sleep.

[headingalaxys-spicy]

Wow, I didin't know you write for 2ptalia! Not complaining tho, how would the countries (just pick your faves) react to darling choosing their 2p counterpart over them? And what will they do in retaliation to being the unchosen one?

Me: Gets 98% writing only to realize I answered it backwards. hahahahahhhh.  So here a twofer. Reader being rejecting both original and 2p! Hope you guys enjoy! 

2p America: How much Fall flavored shit do you need woman? *Shows pack of Pumpkin Jojo’s, Pumpkin pie flavored Oreo’s, and Caramel Apple creamer* Also the fuck is so funny? 

Me: Roast post. 

2p America: What? 

Me: Shut up and laugh dammit! *throws notebook that ask was written in* 

Characters: America (Obivious as fuck I’d pick him), Canada, England, Germany, Italy, Japan, and Russia. 

🍔🇺🇸America 🍔🇺🇸 “WHAAAAAAAT? YOU’RE INTO A MAN WHO’D RATHER FUCK HIS NAILY BAT?!?! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND? ARE YOU CRAZY?” He shouts into the early evening air. He was so loud with that last remark that it took a few moments for passersby to look away from you. 

“Alfred! Please keep your voice down! And please release your grip on my arm!” You shrug away harshly to keep space between the two of you. You disliked that he was spouting nonsense. 

“Y/N, please….” You avoid his eyes; you know they were a honey-laced trapped that you knew plenty of unsuspecting people fell for. 

“I’m sorry, Alfred, but he and I work better together and I don’t have to explain that.” Voice was shaky but you knew you’d be away from him soon. Still avoiding his gaze you say ‘Good-Bye’. 

After you’ve left him to be alone with his raw feelings, he will go punch a few brick walls to let off some steam. 

He’s going to go home and ugly cry and eat Half-Baked while he’s half-baked himself making him whole again after a few months pass. 

(Damn reader, you a savage, we now have a sad burger man.)

🕶️🇺🇸2p America 🇺🇸🕶️: “SERIOUSLY DOLL? You go for a man whose entire fucking shtick is eating a shitload of burgers! That bitch wants to be Nikocado Avacado so bad!” 

He’s grinning his teeth. The fury radiated off of him like a heater. He’s gripping the phone so tightly that small indents are beginning to form. He wasn’t interested in prolonging his suffering so he hung up in your face before you even had a chance to try and placate him. The phone meets its demise. The titanium, metal, and nanotech that once resembled a black brick now resembled black sand of sorts. 

He goes out drinking and partying for the night. Why not be hedonistic to high hell if he doesn’t have you? 

He complains about you to others in the FACE family, saying things like: What was there not for them to like about the blood-dusted roses? They show devotion and dedication or whatever bullshit Oliver was on about!

Oliver: “I heard that, you ungrateful tosser! Pay up in the swear jar!” 

Alex: “Fuck yo-” A knife nails his leg and he wails out in pain. 

He ain’t giving up though he’s going to attempt time and time again to get the McDumbass away from you and into his arms. 

🍁🇨🇦🐻‍❄️Canada🐻‍❄️🇨🇦🍁: Most of you reading this post already know he’s going to cry. 

You were kind enough to let him down gently when you video-chatted him. “I’m sorry, Matthew. I’m just really feeling this other guy and I do it with sincerity that you find someone who suits you.” The pregnant silence was deafening but nothing compared to the pipes behind his violet orbs about to burst. He said, “Okay, farewell, Y/N. I hope you and Matthieu will be happy” before he ended the call.  God, that was a cursed sentence. The pipe had burst and tears spilled through his darkened lavender pools. It takes him about 45-minutes to get off the floor and he opens his Tim Horton’s app and gets a hot chocolate with extra whipped cream and a few Canadian maple and honey crullers. Once it’s delivered, he will devour his meal and sink onto the couch, watching whatever random thing he’s put on Netflix. All while soaking the couch in his copious amounts of tear-soaked Kleenex.  

He’s going to stress-bake pastries while listening to some podcasts to do his best not to think about it. 

He’s also going to turn off his phone intentionally and put it in a phone jail for 78 hours so he doesn’t accidentally waste 5 hours looking at your cute face and the man that has always gotten in his way ever since he came into existence. 

🐻🇨🇦2p Canada 🇨🇦🐻: 

His right eye twitched in frustration over the text message being the only thing he got. His anger swelled the more he thought about it. It was like a boiling pot of water that went from a mildly active simmer to raging waters supported by the heat of a recently awoken volcano. He snuffs out his 4th cigarette, only halfway done and just thinking about his sickly sweet 1p receiving your attention and love. 

He gets crossfaded for the night, so he can numb the stinging pain of rejection. Once he’s done with being on his drug and booze-filled bender he’s going to get to plotting to get you back. 

Even Kuro was high-key annoyed that the snow-colored bear also had your affection. An aggravated growl leaves the beast as his owner reassures him that in time: you will be with them… permanently.   

☕️🫖🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿England🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿🫖☕️: He’s in his tea room drinking scalding hot Earl Grey. The burn on his tongue felt better than the rejection he received. You picked the pastel palette psychopath with cannibalistic tendencies. 

‘Why y/n why? Why in the world would you want to date that Nutter? Is it because I can’t cook for shit?’ Will be some of the thoughts that echo around in his mind as he blankly stares at his tea until the early hours of the morning. 

‘Dodgy Oliver’ ‘What the fuck?’ ‘Bloody hell, has the world gone mad!?’

He considers making a love potion to make you love him. (Since this is the normal 1p we’re talking about Arthur’s code of ethics hasn’t been entirely yeeted out the door.) 

He will lurk on your social media profiles for a couple of weeks before he picks himself back up again.  🧁🎀☠️ 2p England ☠️🎀🧁 Mans has been sitting in his elegant pastel library while rage, sadness and disgust are spilling from his eyes. His heart crumbled into his stomach. When his shiny bright baby blues darkened in hue after reading your text he couldn’t help it. “Hey Oliver…. I know this will be difficult to read but I’ve decided that I’m going to be exclusive with Arthur. I really do hope you can find someone for you. Goodbye.” After a few minutes of letting the river flow onto the desk and pages of his prized cookbooks his mind wonder about how you came to the conclusion to go steady with Arthur. Were you daft? Were you under a spell? Did Arthur trick you? Regardless, Oliver was beginning to crave a special sweet treat that will require him to pay the tsundere British man a visit.

💪🇩🇪 Germany 🇩🇪💪: He’s going to be dumbfounded that you picked Lutz. Like bro has to stare at his phone for 5 full minutes re-reading your text. He tries to make scientific sense of how in fuck you came to the conclusion to like Lutz. After this, he’s just going to curse in his mind for a few hours while he pets his German Shepards while he has maybe a dozen or so cold ones. Ludwig will stare into the void and be like ‘WARUM!?! Auf keinen Fall! Das gibt’s doch nicht!’ 

No matter what, it will never make sense to him. He will be despondent for a while but with the help of Prussia, Italy, and Japan (and his two favorite things Beer and Schnitzel) he’ll be fine. 

You live rent-free in the back of his mind though. While ‘Why for the love of god would you pick someone like him?’ 

💤😴2p Germany😴💤While staring at the screen with bloodshot eyes…he won’t shed a tear, whine, or break things to let out his frustrations. He does nothing. He knows it’s not worth it. He knows he’s not what many would call a “catch”. Sure he has a rugged charm of sorts but that doesn’t mean it makes up for his mentally unwell state of working for Luciano. He will simply stare at the text message that read: 

Hey Lutz, I think it’s best that we just be friends. Ludwig and I are going steady. I just wanted to be transparent with you. I’m sorry.

Even as empty as the words felt, he stared at them with a mixture of regret, sadness, and self-pity. After a while, he releases the phone to fall onto the bed. Well, if there’s nothing he can do, he may as well just jerk it to someone who looks like you. 

🍝🇮🇹Italy🇮🇹🍝 Let's be real he takes your rejection like a champ. He'd been rejected by tons of people before. He’s a professional flirter what do you expect? He’ll go to another bar and snag more bitches. 

This doesn’t mean that later he’s going to realize: WHY ARE YOU DATING A DANGEROUS MAN???????

(Yes, I took this angle for him. Feliciano can be baby but ooooooh lawd he can be a player. He got that 🌟✨duality✨🌟)

🔪🇮🇹2p Italy🇮🇹🔪: His favorite switchblade is tossed back and forth like an acrobat during a finale. Rage is spilling through his pores. His ears burn as honesty comes spilling from you. 

“Maybe it’s best if we can be friends. I’m romantically intertwined with Feliciano and he’s a really sweet guy and I have to take a chance with him.” Your honesty was charming just as it was brutal. It was horrible for him to think about losing you. Your melodic voice was like hearing a live chorus from the musical Baroque of the 1600s. His dream of having you with him was shattered by the idiotia constantly waving a white flag. He stabs the right arm of the chair that he was seated in and drags the knife backward. Cotton and alligator leather were ruined in the blades' wake. 

He was going to give the bastard something to cry for. 

Bro is going to be wine-wasted for the rest of the night and become a little violent towards anyone who is within range of him. Kuro and Lutz 100% know to stay the hell out of his way until the storm has passed. 

👹👺🇯🇵2p Japan🇯🇵👺👹: Oh fuck. You essentially set off an entity that’s similar to Slenderman. Kuro is silent and brooding and his plans are gruesome, slow, and violate the human code of ethics. You were brave enough to have the conversation with him over tea. The air is tense, filled with discontent, and hate. What a waste you’d fallen the evenly keeled Kiku. He cared too much about cherry blossoms, respect, blah, blah, blah. Why would you ever date someone with a massive tree up his ass? His hand will itch for the blade. He wanted to rid the world of Kiku’s existence right that second. 

“Kuro, I’ll be honest I’ve found someone who matches my energy and I’m going to work it out with Kiku. We just work well together.” His eyes shot daggers at his green tea in an attempt not to scare you. He believes he still has a chance he’ll just have to convince you. However, he couldn’t suppress his vibes which could be cut by a plastic knife it was so thick. You bit your lip and gather your nerves. You pull out some yen from your bag to cover your drink and you leave in a huff. You knew from that point onwards that nothing in your life would ever be the same. 

It takes Kuro an hour to finally end his staring competition with his tea. He’s never been so bothered in his life. He blocks you on all social media and uses his alt accounts to gather intel. He isn’t going to let you go, nor will he let Kiku win. 

He definitely goes home that night to destroy a few trees and maybe even a few of his own men who dared to look at him the wrong way. 

🇯🇵 🌸 Japan 🌸🇯🇵 He’s stunned. He will have few words in response.

“Okay, farewell Y/N… and it really was nice to meet you.” he will politely bow and walk away.

his heart will take a while to recover through because you a catch!

☠️🇷🇺 2p Russia 🇷🇺 ☠️Jesus Christ or Holy Fuck are the only phrases that are appropriate for the bitter resentment he has for Ivan. The normally just frigid atmosphere transformed into a bitter frost that could give anyone uninitiated to the cold instant frostbite. Ice on the window appears and freezes over behind him while he grips your written letter explaining to him why you made your choice. He’s nicer, his scarf was warmer and a much more inviting light pink than his confronting red one. 

Outwardly he might be tame / measured inwards he’s brooding and plotting revenge on his counterpart….Only to execute none of it. He knows what he wanted is gone and he’s far too depressed to do something about it. 

He’ll stay in his office while he writes out a complex seven-point plan placing a dead a dead gladiolus flower next to each. He imagines his rival in a pool of blood to make it easier for him to sleep at night. 

🇷🇺🪆🌻Russia🌻🪆🇷🇺He does his best to choke back tears. He won’t lie you sent ice-picks straight to his heart. Thoughts about being lonely swarm his mind. It hurts him because you’re a mortal he’s grown fond of that didn’t have ulterior motives to be around him. He fiddles with his scarf to avoid your lovely (eye color) hues. 

“I’m going to leave Y/N, farewell.” He leaves in order to keep at least some of his pride in tact. 

‘Why Viktor? He’s even more terrifying than me!’ While he mulls over not winning you over, over some Vodka on the rocks a thought crosses through him: 

‘Wait a minute if that psychopath can have a lover so can I! There is still hope!’ 

-End- 

Thank’s for reading ya’ll !

[kushami-hime]

Baku Halloween 🎃 wav ideas:

Werewolf Baku could be extra sensitive to things like fall spice 🍁,

Werewolf Baku maybe has cat allergies🐈 which would be cute and funny as a werewolf.

Werewolf Baku 🧡 straight up has hay fever and has a horrible sensitivity to dusty hay. Fall festival nonsense on a date possible or even werewolf scurmish in a barn set him off.

Werewolf Baku could be sensitive to perfumes or fall candles 🫠 that cute sniffer is just sensitive if you ask me and he is so grumpy about it.

Baku vampire 🦇 idea - just wanted to put it out there because ugh it's hot 🔥 can't even compute beyond him as a grumpy vampire.

Hoping maybe for hitchy holdbacks some but 🙈no matter what route you take it. Your stuff is awesome always!

HOOOOOLY SHIT ITS THE GOAT 😱😱

AAAH Thank you for these!! Omg they're all so good, this could supply the next like 4 years worth of spooky wavs BRUHHH

I think a wav focusing on his sensitive nose would be really good, either that or the hayfever/hay sensitivities!! >:D I haven't done anything with stuff related to hay or fall allergies in particular so we could definitely give that a go >:3

Now just gotta focus on the scene itself, hrmmm...🤔

[tideswept]

Written for @veloursdor, one evil-doll-exposure-therapy-by-way-of-Obikin-nonsense coming up!

thy fearful symmetry

(2k words: spooky Obikin AU. Dolls, childhood, loneliness, and forgotten memories that never leave.)

👻🕯🎃🕸🦇⛓🖤🕷🥀🪦🐈‍⬛💀🌙⚰🍁🕸️

The doll.

Christ, the doll. 

Obi-Wan froze with his foot on the first step of the staircase, staring unseeingly at the second landing. He had only just come back from burying his father and speaking with the solicitor.

Obi-Wan’s chest rose in a shuddering breath. The house, and everything inside of it, belonged to him.

Which included the doll.

Anakin.

Nausea rose up his throat like a high tide. Obi-Wan retreated. Up the stairs was Qui-Gon’s study, the place that he hadn’t been allowed to enter, not after the incident that had started it all. 

Fuck. How had he forgotten? He supposed that it shouldn’t matter, not anymore. Qui-Gon was gone. There was to be no heartfelt reconciliation between father and son. No probing questions about had truly gone on between Qui-Gon and Tahl, no explanations. With Tahl also gone, it was only him left.

The liquor cabinet was unlocked. If it hadn’t been, Obi-Wan would have taken a hammer and cracked the glass. He was in no mood to be sober. He tossed the keys onto the dusty dining room table—there was dust everywhere, implying Qui-Gon’s habit of locking himself up in his office hadn’t changed—and grabbed a bottle of rum.

Prize in hand, he settled on the steps of the backporch. The shrill mating call of grasshoppers seeped through his brain, another reminder that he was back in Stewjon, even more so than the copse of trees facing the property. Somewhere, out there, were all his old hiding spots—where he’d go to escape the arguments, the cold silences. 

Better the hush of the uncaring forest than the emptiness of his foster parent’s dissolving marriage. 

The first sip of rum burned. So did the second.

Obi-Wan tipped his head back, the bottle pressed to his lips like a clarion, and swallowed all the fire and bitterness that he could take until he was nothing but ashes, bombed out and numb. 

He hung his head forward, shoulders slumped. Receiving the news—Cody’s apologetic expression, right on the heels of what should have been a victory for them, a major contract signed that meant they were now playing in the big leagues—the plane ride, the other papers signed. The calls and texts from friends to extend their condolences, well-meant, but like being punched with a screwdriver each time his phone rang. Putting on the mask of the famed Negotiator to reassure them that he was doing as well as could be expected, that his father had been in his seventies, a heart attack was shocking but not that much of a shock—

He took another drag of the rum. His fingers twitched restlessly. So did his mouth, craving a cigarette. He should have stopped by the convenience store. But the funeral arrangements. The ceremony. The solicitor. All of it in a whirlwind of two days. 

And the fucking doll was the first thing that popped into his head the moment that he was alone. Figured.

Anakin. A name he hadn’t allowed himself to think of in forever. Referring to it as the doll had been easier, and then it’d been easier still to sweep up those memories into a dark corner of his mind. Banished along with the rest of his childish fears, to be suppressed in favor of bigger, more important worries. Getting into a good school. Getting along with his roommate. Getting laid. Getting a job. Getting out of Stewjon. 

Not necessarily in that order.

Two hours later, he was still sitting there. Above him the sky was an endless expanse of dark, clouds shrouding the moon and the stars that still glittered like gems, undisturbed by light pollution. Obi-Wan had cycled through grief, anger, and exhaustion until his eyes ached, eyelids drooped, and his stomach was an empty pit. 

He felt like he stood on the set of a play. If he got to his feet and walked over to the trees, he’d discover them to be two-dimensional, made up of plywood, painted with care to trick the eye. That if he pushed through, he’d wind up backstage, where he’d find…

Obi-Wan blinked, startled. He jerked as if yanked out of a deep sleep. 

“Fuck,” he swore softly. The rum bottle was empty. His grieving suit was hopelessly rumpled. 

Time to call an end to this day from hell. 

He rose to his feet, overly cautious, and felt his way into the house, turning on the lights and then leaving them on as he traveled. Climbing the stairs in his condition was a fool’s gamble, his center of balance was definitely skewed to the left, and if the floor didn’t stop lurching underneath his feet like a capsizing ship, Obi-Wan would throw up. 

Eventually, it did stop. Mostly because he collapsed on the sofa. 

Displaced dust fluttered in the air. Obi-Wan turned his head and coughed. “Jesus, dad.” When was the last time Qui-Gon had been in the living room? Who lived like this? 

A crazy man, whispered an insidious little voice. 

No. He wasn’t going there. Tomorrow, fine, whatever. He could deal with that tomorrow. 

He could deal with Anakin tomorrow.

—

“Want to play?”

Obi-Wan plucked at the hem of his shorts and then looked up, surprised. There was a young man blocking out the sun. Obi-Wan didn’t know him.

But then, Obi-Wan didn’t know anyone. This was his third foster family in as many months. 

He pressed his lips together, doubtful. People were sometimes nice to him, only to then be mean. Best if he kept his distance. Even if this wasn’t a trap, what was the point in talking to someone he’d never see again?

A minute passed. Obi-Wan plucked at his shorts again. They were too big for him. His new foster mom had bought them thinking he was the normal size for a five-year-old boy, but he wasn’t. He was scrawny and gaunt. Food had been scarce at the last house, that was why they’d taken him away. 

“Cat got your tongue?”

Obi-Wan wrinkled his nose and, unbidden, blurted out: “Cats don’t eat tongues. Cats are nice.” 

Then he cringed. Crap. 

“Cats are nice,” agreed the young man, and knelt down on the grass. His eyes were a deep blue, darker than Obi-Wan’s own. Even kneeling, and with Obi-Wan sitting at the bottom of the back steps, he was slightly taller. He offered his hand the way adults did. “Would you like to see some kittens?” 

Obi-Wan was suspicious. He didn’t shake the hand. Instead, he crossed his arms, tucking his arms under his armpits. “No.” 

“Are you sure?” came the playful rejoinder. “They’re very cute.” 

Obi-Wan firmed up his chin. There weren’t any kittens. This was a lie. A trick. “No, thank you.” 

His strange visitor… pouted. 

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure how to react to that. “Um,” he said, a little breathlessly, because oh, no, was the young man actually sad? He was wiping at his eyes like there were tears there, and Obi-Wan’s sense of compassion—and guilt—was immediate and all-consuming. 

“I’m sorry! I—I do want to see the kittens. B-but I don’t know you. I should stay here.” Within sight of the back door, like Tahl had told him.

“Oh, is that all? But I live here, too.”

“Um. Do you?”

“Oh, yes. For a…” The young man stopped. A line formed on his brow. “You know, I don’t remember how long I’ve been here. Isn’t that funny?” he shrugged, as if it wasn’t really that important. “I’m Anakin.” 

“I’m… Obi-Wan.” 

The smile Anakin gave him was sweet, mischievous. “Well, we won’t go anywhere, if you’re not comfortable,” he announced. “But that means we’re not strangers anymore, right?”

There was a certain logic to that, Obi-Wan supposed. But when he opened his mouth to agree, the door behind him creaked open on its hinges. 

“Obi-Wan? Are you hungry? I’ve made snacks,” Tahl said.

“Yes, ma’am,” Obi-Wan automatically said, and then turned back to Anakin. If he really lived there, shouldn’t Tahl have made snacks for him as well? 

But Anakin was gone.

— 

He’d sell the doll, Obi-Wan decided the next day, after the hangover had stopped pounding nails into his skull. As much as he wanted to throw it in the bin, he couldn’t. It’d meant so much to Qui-Gon, and it had historical value and… 

Why destroy something out of pettiness? He was a better man than that. For God’s sake, he wasn’t a kid anymore. There was enough gray in his hair that he was considering dyeing it, but then he’d questioned himself why he’d bother. 

The rest of the house would also have to go. Donated. Or whatever. There were probably museums that would salivate at the chance to go through Qui-Gon Jinn’s collection. The man had been both well-respected and infamous in certain circles, loved and hated—if not hated, by the end. Surely if he reached out, they’d send someone to evaluate what was worth preserving… they could have all of it, really. Obi-Wan didn’t care.

But before that could be set into motion, he needed to go into Qui-Gon’s study. 

He left the house to pick up something to eat, and came back with caffeine. He’d need it. 

Unlike the rest of the house, the upstairs hallway was clean. Obi-Wan placed his hand on the doorknob to Qui-Gon’s study and cast a worried glance around, reduced to being nine years old again, and sneaking into his then-father’s study. 

Sneaking in to see… to see Anakin.

Obi-Wan exhaled sharply through his nose. The doll. Sneaking in to see the doll. Anakin had never existed. Anakin was the product of a young child’s overactive mind. He’d overheard Qui-Gon at some point talking about the doll, and then his mind had filled in the gaps.

That was all. Logical. 

And yet. He couldn’t turn the knob. Not out of fear that Qui-Gon was around the corner and would find out, but out of a strange swirl of anticipation in his gut. The doll was his now.

(Anakin was his now.)

Obi-Wan opened the door. 

—

“Why is Qui-Gon so mad?” Obi-Wan’s voice trembled, along with his lips, his hands. Even his breath squeezed in his lungs. He didn’t want Qui-Gon to be angry. Qui-Gon was the best foster dad he’d ever had; he always had something to teach Obi-Wan, some curious stone or feather to show him. He never sighed and rolled his eyes at any of Obi-Wan’s questions, no matter how dumb. 

Fear sat like a block of ice in his chest. “I d-don’t get it.” To his despair, tears squeezed out of the corners of his eyes. Obi-Wan scrunched them shut, but they rolled down his cheeks. 

Anakin was quiet. Then his hand brushed the top of Obi-Wan’s head. “I don’t know,” he confessed, and he sounded young even to Obi-Wan. “I don’t think he’s mad at you. If anyone—” Anakin broke off. “He’s probably angry with me.” 

With Anakin? 

The fear melted with the heat of indignation. He scrambled off the bed. “He can’t make you go away.” Obi-Wan wouldn’t let him send Anakin away, he’d—he’d tell Tahl, even though she was just as weird about Anakin. He’d—

“No,” said Anakin, with a strange, resigned expression. He was usually lively, if moody, and Obi-Wan didn’t like the change. “No, he can’t. So don’t worry about it, alright? Cry if you need to, and then let’s go visit the Open Circle.” 

“Boys don’t cry.” Obi-Wan sniffed. 

Anakin’s smile was lopsided. “I cry all the time. And I’m just as much a boy as you.” 

This was not the revelation Obi-Wan expected. First, Qui-Gon angry with Anakin, now Anakin, somewhere, crying? Where Obi-Wan couldn’t see? 

“You can’t cry anymore,” Obi-Wan told him. What he really meant to say was you can’t cry if I’m not with you, but his young mind couldn’t translate his thoughts into words without losing something along the way. 

But Anakin understood. 

Anakin always understood him. 

—

Obi-Wan flipped the light switch. And there, under a large glass cloche on Qui-Gon’s desk, was the doll that his father had destroyed his life for. 

God, how he hated it. 

— 

(Anakin could never leave him alone again.) 

[hillian-sketch]

gdcihwguifgihrwfghifrwgkjrwbrwhifbhiwrfghkrwbvhrievbkhadvbojdwvnhi

🪻🎱🍁

can I request a second one

I mean, i don't see why not, unless it's complete nonsense like last time, i am not drawing another outfit from emoji barf, not again

[ex-foster]

Why liberal feminists are poor allies to girls and women from foster care:

1. They use foster kids as counter arguments in the abortion debate.

- this stigmatizes kids in care and suggests that they are unloved or unwanted

- foster kids end up hearing these arguments where they are used in the abortion debate and it has a negative impact on their self image and their role in the community

- the argument suggests that being a foster kid is a fate worse than death (foster kids deal with adverse childhood experiences but we should teach resilience not despair)

- abortion has been legal and available for nearly 40 years and this has not eliminated the need for foster care. Bringing foster kids in the abortion debate is nonsensical.

-they spread inaccurate information about foster care including the amount of children "waiting to be adopted" You can't just look at the statistics of youth in care and say they are all waiting to be adopted. First of all adoption is not even possible until the parental rights have been terminated. Many foster kids are in there temporarily and eventually get reunited with the parents. Second, adoption is not the appropriate solution in all cases. Some foster kids are in kinship care (a family member is taking care of the child) where guardianship may be more appropriate than adoption. There are other considerations as well including the age of the child and their wishes. Teens in the foster care system may want to pursue emancipation not adoption.

2. They ignore the link between foster care and sex trafficking.

- liberal feminists often consider themselves to be sex positive which includes a positive attitude towards porn and an uncritical view of the sex industry

- girls and women from foster care are overrepresented among sex trafficking victims.

- liberal feminists fail to understand the vulnerability of girls and women from foster care including their extremely high rate of homelessness after they age out of care

- although liberal feminists often have empathy for other women when it comes to #metoo, it is often limited to women in the same social class as them. They can empathize with women who were sexually harassed at work and understand the power a male boss has over their female employee however this empathy is sometimes not extended to women who are in the sex trade. The circumstances that lead to them engaging in survival sex work is not critically examined. There is an emphasis on "choice" but not the circumstances that puts a woman in a position where they might have to consider sex work in order to survive.

3. They ignore the importance of biological sex and advocate instead on the basis of gender identity.

- liberal feminists often bully women who desire female only spaces (such as rape crisis shelters, domestic violence shelters and homeless shelters). Women from foster care are overrepresented among the homeless population and are in need of these services.

- foster kids are pushed on the path to transition (LGBT is overrepresented among foster kids) studies show that boys and girls who are gender nonconforming often come to terms with their gender dysphoria at puberty (but often discover that they are gay or lesbian as adults). Liberal feminists and trans activists often see gender nonconformity as something that requires medical intervention.

- foster kids have historically been overly pathologized. Foster kids have trauma by virtue of being in foster care. This trauma should be explored in therapy. If a teen girl thinks she is a boy, do you think her religious parents disowning her for being a lesbian could be a factor? Do you think childhood sexual abuse could be a factor? Do you think witnessing domestic violence is a factor? The affirmation model (which is required in Canada 🍁) puts foster kids on a pipeline to medical transition because alternative therapies are not permitted

[lipglossanon]

i got soooo carried away writing that ive gotten 4000 words of complete nonsense ૮ ⸝⸝o̴̶̷᷄ ·̭ o̴̶̷̥᷅⸝⸝ ྀིა i’ve never written smut before so i’ve gotten all shy before the good bit (ㅠ‸ㅠ)

i’ve got a little snippet for you, though!! (,,>ࡇ<,,)

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

His reaction was reasonable, he’d convinced himself. What wasn’t reasonable was that he’d gone rooting through your bags while you were showering, chosen a shirt that had the strongest hint of you on it, a tight black affair, and buried his face into the fabric as he jerked off.

His mind was wandering to places he’d be ashamed to admit to anyone, blush burning down to his collarbones as he let his eyes drift shut. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so wound up he was forgetting to breathe, squeezing harder as he bit his lip to keep himself quiet, fucking floral and black coffee and it was everywhere—

All he could think about was you, despite his best efforts to stray his thoughts to literally anybody else; cock softening in his hand as his brain moved to Claire, Helena— even Ada was doing nothing for him today. He groaned in frustration, nuzzling into your shirt, too turned on for his own good and letting you fill his thoughts again. It was almost embarrassing at how hard he got just thinking about your pretty face.

You’d probably let him do whatever he wanted to you, so eager to please in all of your inexperience. Just the thought of you sobbing underneath him, begging for more, pussy tight around his cock was enough to make him dizzy and knock the wind from his lungs. So wet that he’d want to stay there forever, buried balls deep in your cunt and spend the rest of his life scenting you and fucking you stupid.

“Please, Leon,” you’d whine. “Need it, need you, want your knot, please…”

He came hard enough to see fucking stars.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

this is totally new ground for me, hope i’m doing the right thing! (*￣∀￣)

; 🍁

🍁 anon!!! 🤩

This is so good!! I love the way you write Leon!! I still find I struggle from his POV and your’s seems so easy 👏 👏

If this is just a snippet, I’m ready for the whole fic now 😉

[lightkrets312]

and this one is for Aunn: 👁️⚠️🌨️💙☕🧠🧁💔💭🌍✨🌊⚡🐺🔅💛🍁🐰🦷

(/joking)

Anyways-

👁️ How do other people perceive this oc? How close do their first assumptions come to the truth? At this point, she'd likely be seen as a blunt, no-nonsense no-tolerance brick wall. Given that's the front she puts on for others, it's not inaccurate.

⚠️ If this oc came with a warning sign, what would it be?

🌨️ If this oc had a day free from all their responsibilities, how would they spend it? ...Training, honestly? One day is a mere drop in the bucket of time.

🧠 What is their stress response: fight, flight, freeze, or fawn? Fight first, hardcore. After that, flight or fawn depending on what triggered the response.

💙 Describe their bedroom! Is it personalized, unchanged? Messy, neat? Even their bedroom at home is surprisingly sparse, compared to other people. But they do have little things, precious things they keep somewhere they can find them.

☕ What is their preferred beverage(s)? ...Black coffee, apparently.

🧁 When is their birthday? How do they celebrate it, if at all? December 29th, I suppose! And they... don't celebrate it. Other people would, and they go along with the ride, but they don't do anything themself. If they even remember when it is.

💭 How is their mental health? Do they struggle with guilt or shame? You can't deal with what you don't face! (it's in shambles. they are gonna have a long recovery, and they will hate it.)

💔 Does forgiveness come easily or with difficulty to this oc? Can they forgive others? What about themselves? They absolutely cannot. For anyone. Forgiveness is not natural in any form, and they hate it. why give what you never receive?

🌍 What are this oc’s religious views? Ironically, their views aren't informed by their religion - Tempus is a means to an end, and was just the first good fit she found. But they do believe in the fair fight, in the art and rules of warfare, and she heavily believes in justice. One good turn should deserve another, after all. And she remembers her debts.

✨ Tell something that makes this oc feel happy! ...Happy? Uh.... (her brother being happy makes her happy. praise would make her cry. but her guilty, true pleasure is the rush she gets in a fight.)

🌊 Does this oc have a secret or repressed desire? (if she was acknowledge and explicitly allowed to just exist as herself, flawed and imperfect as she is, she'd die happy. she'll settle for just dying in the meantime.)

⚡ Does this oc have any unusual or “irrational” fears? Baseline? No. A healthy fear of death, perhaps, but nothing unusual. (her replacements, however? do. it depends on how the last one died, as does the severity of the phobia. Cherrie, for instance? Mild fear of spiders.)

🔅 How does this oc deal with physical pain? Pain comes with the job. We push through. Ñ̷̫o̵̝̦͑̃ ̷̲̲̔m̵̱̈a̷͕͉͊͠t̴͔̒ẗ̷̻́e̷̠̟̽r̸̠̅̎͜ ̴̛̯̱͘w̵̗͇͘h̸͔̳̃͠a̶̞͔̾t̷̤̗͌.̶̥̭̀

🐺 How does this oc deal with solitude? She's quite used to it, so she handles it well. She works... okay in a group, though. Well enough.

💛 Are they ‘good with children’, or more awkward? Awkward. But she's better with kids than adults, so she manages.

🍁 What is this oc’s favorite season? ...Spring, actually.

🐰 How huggable is this oc? If you're family? Very. If you're a friend? Awkwardly. If you're not? Only as far as the situation calls for it, possibly not at all.

🦷 Would this oc ever bite someone? If she's in combat and down a free arm or two, then the gods gave them teeth for a reason.

[dylanlila]

AMYMARTHA + leather jacket

#the mad science girls!!!!!!!!! they're seeing shakespeare plays performed in operating theatres <3 <3 <3#in my heart - they've got matching leather jackets...like. the red leather and the brown leather. they're an autumnal match in heaven 🍁💫🧡(via @god-nonsensical)