#Ask puppeteer airy

[puppeteer-airy-offical]

You should watch a Tim Burton film fr..

A what film…?

I’ve been out of the loop for,,, too long…

[hiebies]

can i get a kiss? (your lips on mine)

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ | desc; to share in a gentle passion, the press of skin to skin in the most authentic way one knows how.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ | pairings; clive rosfield : cidolfus telamon : dion lesage : jill warrick -> x gn!reader

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ | mlist : p1

kissing clive is like a bonfire in the cooler months. the smoke, his eyes, follow you from a distance and you feel it more intensely the closer you move to him, to a warm body and warmer hands. the bonfire, clive, is warming you when your bodies are close, radiating all that is important in such a moment. kissing clive is kissing a reverent man; a man who’s body is a balmy summer, who’s lips caress your lips with every press and drag. ask him, for his warmth and he will be happy to give it to you, like a child seeing the stars for the first time.

cid’s kiss is, well, electrifying. his mouth is always seeking yours- your acceptance, your adoration, your lips. he leads many people for his cause, his beliefs, what he knows to his core is right; in the same way he leads his admiration for you, for your lips and the peaceful haze they give his mind that oftentimes wanders too far. he kisses you to enforce this, to enforce that you are with him; present, tangent, physical under his hands that wander to any part of you they can hold.

dion kisses you like you hold his beating, bleeding, uncovered heart between your hands- his heart that he has ripped from the gilded cage of his ribs and presented to you; and you do hold his heart, always. he kisses you like he wants to live by the rules of that same heart, to act on those whims, always. his hand presses over your heart, pulse in his fingertips matching its rhythm, completely at the mercy of the adrenaline running through his body; stood standing, holding you, kissing you.. because kissing you is the biggest assurance he has.

lips pressed to lips, hands held and fingers laced together with her heart as airy and candy floss- this is how jill feels every time, every kiss, every taste of you she gets. a reprieve to the cold that wraps around her bones like puppet strings, a soothing pressure to her mind and soul. perhaps it is shiva’s affect or perhaps it is just her, but jill’s hands are colder than most- soothing when placed against your face to cool you off, or that in which she touches your skin to surprise you during a kiss, offering her laughter as due payment for your surprise.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ | notes; perhaps i’m just,,, slightly maybe (read: very) hyperfixated on ff16 at the moment :]

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ hiebies 2023 ©

[bubbleecloud]

Special delivery!

WELCOME HOME TK FIC LETS GOOOOO

~Wally lends a helping hand to Eddie as he prepares his mail for delivery. But a small discovery makes Eddie a little sidetracked~

Lee!Wally Ler!Eddie

“Well, I really can’t thank ya enough for stoppin’ by to help me out, Wally! It sure  woulda been real messy if I’d had to sort through this mail all by m’self!”

Wally looked up from where he’d been placing a brightly colored stamp onto a large pink envelope. He smiled brightly at Eddie as he placed a the envelope in a pile with the others.

“It’s my pleasure! A neighbor is always happy to help another!” He said, his voice calm and airy as usual. It was true, too, Wally was more than happy to lend his friend a helping hand. In truth, he had only dropped in to ask if Eddie had any paper he could spare, but upon seeing how much work the poor mailman was practically smothered in, he opted to stick around. Eddie chuckled warmly at Wally’s response. He gave the shorter puppet a clap on the back as he opened a side closet to look for packaging tape. They worked side by side in silence for a stretch, content enough to just enjoy each others company.    Eddie huffed as he picked up another bulky package. As he set it on a scale to weigh it, an irritated huff sounded behind him that made him pause. He turned, and instantly had to choke back a chuckle. Standing up on his tip toes, Wally was trying to reach another stack of envelopes that were stored on a high shelf. He huffed and stomped his foot on the floor. Cute.

"Heh. Need some help there, bud'?" Eddie asked, walking over to stand next to the short painter. Wally looked up at him, his face adorably pouty. He nodded. "That would be very helpful..." He mumbled. Eddie shook his head and chuckled endearingly.

"Alrighty, c'mere, you!" The mailman said, and just out on instinct he reached put to grip Wally's sides in order to lift him up. But before he had even barely had a chance to get him off the ground, Wally made a strange sort of gasp and jolted away. He wrapped his hands around his midriff, his cheeks now cherry red. Eddie raised an eyebrow. "You could've- ah- you can just hand them to me..!" Wally said, trying to sound casual.

Eddie didn't say anything,instead reaching for the envelopes. But when Wally went to grab them, he jerked them out of reach.

"Hey-!"

"What was that noise ya' made, Walls?"

Wally blinked. He slowly looked up at Eddie. The smile on his face made his breath catch in his throat. He crossed his arms, trying his best to look unbothered. "It was nothing. You just caught me off guard. I startle very easily. Now- please give me the letters?" He asked, hoping Eddie would just drop it. But he just shook his head, taking a step towards Wally.

"No can do, Walls. See, I thinks your fibbin'! Cuz that sure didn't sound like nothin.." He said, crossing his arms. He reached out a finger and poked the smaller puppet in the side. "You ticklish or somethin?"

The way Wally squeaked and jumped away was enough of an answer for Eddie. The grin he wore turned into a full on smile. He reached out to start rapid firing pokes all over the poor painters torso. "You are! Well, that's just adorable, ain't it! Why ain't ya ever tell me?!"

Wally let a couple of wheezy giggles slip, pushing at Eddies hand in protest. "Noho! Ahaha-! Eddie! We have to get back to wohohork!" He squealed, squirming as best as he could to try to get away. But Eddie just slipped one of his arms around his waist to keep him in place,now turning his pokes into light pinches at the base of his ribcage. (Or where his ribcage would be, anyway) He laughed a little and shook his head.

"I says we still got plenty of time! B'sides, your laugh is just too cute! I gotta hear more!" He said, his voice so sweet and genuine it make wallys breath catch. He shook his head frantically, his giggles increasing and the tickles got more intense.

"No! Ahahahah! Haha! I'm much to sensitive for this-EHEHEDDIE! Plehehease!"

He said, his words rushed and frantic as he brought his hands up to fan his face, his mouth open wide in his fits of giggles. Eddie hummed and leaned down to nuzzle his nose against Wallys cheek, giggling at the flustered whine it pulled from him. "Aw, no ya ain't! I think your just being dramatic so I'll stop, aren'tcha?" He coo'd, letting his hands flutter downwards to squeeze Wallys hip bones.

Lets just say Wally let out a scream high enough to rival that of Sallys vocal range.

"EEE- AHAH-! EHAHAHHAH- No-No!! Wait, waIT PLEHEASE-! I'MNOTBEINGDRAMATICTHATREALLYTICKLES!"

He said, little hiccups and gasps breaking through his laughter now as he threw his head back. His Knees buckled, and Eddie had to hurry to keep his grip stable so he didn't drop the poor puppet. Eddie let out a surprised chuckled at Wallys desperate exclamation. "I can tell!"

Wally whined again, his body gone completely limp as he laughed his poor little head off. Eddie let his attack continue for a little longer before he did eventually let up, easing Wally up right again, keeping his arms around him while he recovered. "You ok, giggles?"

Wally chuckled a little and looked up at Eddie, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "Yes, I'm fine. But, oh, that was mehean!" He said cupping one of his own cheeks and looking away. Eddie chuckled and let Wally go from his hug. "Aw, ya know you enjoyed it!" Then, he retrieved the letters and held them out to Wally. "Now, I believe you was lookin for these?" He said, wiggling them in front of Wally playfully. He snatched them out of his hand, although there was still a big smile on his face.

"Yes,thank you very much! And now that you've gotten all the sillyness out of you, I shall go back to getting them ready, if you wouldn't mind"

He said fixing Eddie with a light hearted glare as he walked back over to the counter. Eddie laughed brightly.

"You feel more than welcome! There's no one better for the job, I suppose!"

And there wasn't, of course.

~-----------------------~

THE SILLY PUPPETS!!! GRRRRRRRR!!!!

I hope y'all enjoyed! This way so fun to write!

[asliceofteaa]

BELOVED FRIENDS AND TOLERATED ACQUAINTANCES ALIKE;

WELCOME TO THE SHOW!

HELLO WORLD!

My name is Cecil! I also go by Asterisk, Atticus, Sketchpad, and a slew of various other names! I use they/it/star pronouns, as well as other neos.

I was born in 2008, you can do your own math.

WHAT TO EXPECT?

A simple question with a simple answer- mostly reblogs! Sometimes I'll post my own things too, but that's a secret that'll help us later!

What are my interests...? I'm glad you asked!

Character Design! This is my special interest, but I hardly talk about it because nobody ever asks 💔

Internet Culture & History!

Media Analysis!

Lost Media!

Outer Space!

Arcades and the 80s-90s aesthetic!

Other things too!!

And of course, since you asked so nicely, the fandoms I'm in! No particular order...

Town of Salem

Pressure (Roblox)

Roblox in general

In Stars and Time

8:11

Object shows (less so nowadays)

UT/DR

Minecraft

Pokémon

The Stanley Parable

Cult of the Lamb

With more to come...

BEFORE YOU FOLLOW!

With a tumblr blog comes a DNI list, unfortunately...

DNI if you're a proshipper, NSFW blog, over 30 or under 13. There's also the basic criteria like don't be queerphobic don't make fun of me etc etc.

Please refrain from referring to me as a human or talking in detail about drowning with me. They're not triggers, but I'd rather not hear about it... I am a MOTH and a COSMIC BEING to you!

ME AND WHO <3

Being fictionkin and selfshipping is a heavy task, but call me Atlas because man am I doing it RIGHT.

asliceoftea official kinlist:

sketchpad ( the nightly manor )

airy ( hfjone )

nine ( x finds out his value )

knight helmet ( paper puppets take 2 )

thomas flyswatter ( bugbo )

caine ( the amazing digital circus )

siffrin ( in stars and time )

infected ( regretevator )

candy diver cookie ( cookie run )

the red crown ( cult of the lamb ) 

the narrator ( the stanley parable )

fantoccio ( billie bust up )

chara ( undertale )

ryker dublin ( 8:11 )

betty thalia ( ella's game )

aaand asliceoftea official (current) partner, as I fear I am monogamous:

p.ai.nter ( pressure )

though I still have love in my heart for calculester monster prom... I have simply grown out of the game... 💔

WHERE TO GO FROM HERE?

Looks like this is the end of our time together! If you want to see my real art, I post it on Instagram! Wanna know more about me? How flattering! And all my OCs are stored on my Toyhouse!

Bye for now~!

[naraven]

YOUR LIPS TASTED LIKE SWEET CHERRIES (AND YOUR HEART LIKE SOUR GRAPES)

an // this one i'm really proud of!! if y'all could maybe like and RB THAT'D BE EVEN BETTER

very proud of this one, it'd mean the world if you could rb :')

wc // 2.4k

tw // blood, death, cannibalism

“I’d really miss you if you died.”

The ever aloof Wanderer barely bats an eye at your strange words. After about a month of your odd duo meetings, he can confidently say that he had gotten used to the nonsense that spouted out of your mouth. Whispers behind both your backs were promptly ignored with idle chatter about whatever had inconvenienced you recently.

“Hat Guy,” as most students dubbed him, was uniquely different from other students. Well, you weren’t even sure if he was a student, lacking the Akademiya’s beret and robes, but that never really mattered to you, did it? In fact, you only started to get closer to the hatted man because you got bored studying in the House of Daena one day and started talking to him because he was seated alone at one of the emptier tables. You just nabbed a quiet, not so quiet anymore spot.

Do you even remember what you were talking about? Not really, and you doubt the Wanderer even remembered either, but since then you struck up a conversation when you got tired of whatever project that had been assigned by your professors. Wanderer would usually be the one listening to whatever topic you had learned earlier that day, from whatever you ate for breakfast to complaining about a particularly stubborn professor you disliked.

“If I die? You make it sound as if I won’t.” Wanderer leans back onto the chair, a near silent sigh exiting through his nose. You laugh lightly, turning a few heads, and flop your upper body onto the desk. “But thanks, I guess I would miss you if you died, too.”

Your laugh feels hollow. Airy, like you had nothing inside your body but wind continuously swirling around. At this point, the puppet had no clue if that was your real laugh or not. He considers his own mocking laugh to be more genuine than whatever you let out in amusement.

“Thanks, Hat Man. Maybe one of these days I’ll have a proper name to remember you by.”

And that. He refused to give you his name, out of laziness and for no particular reason at all, and he, in turn, simply called you “Weirdo.” Of course, none of you mean any malice in the nicknames. None at all.

“I’ll write you in my will. Don’t have much, but I guess I’ll give you something.” You pick up your pen once more. Your messy handwriting scribbles nonsense onto the page before presenting him with chicken scratch.

“My draft of my will. 80% of all my stuff will go to you.” 

Wanderer’s eyebrows twitch upward. “What about your family? Not much going to them.”

“They could care less about what I do. It’s not like I could give them much in the first place.” You turn the paper back around and scribble other things that you planned on giving him in your will.

And once again, the Inazuman puppet is left puzzled. Your act of saying such unique yet frightful words in that indifferent tone of yours was a curious thing indeed. Like discussing the topic of death and leaving a will behind. The only other person that might be discussing a scenario such as this would be the General Mahamatra, but his work persona wouldn’t allow jokes of sensitive topics to be blurted out.

It says a lot about you, Wanderer thinks, when you laugh at the face of death so easily.

“Don’t want it. What would you even give me, anyway? You don’t even own property, you live in the dorms.”

“Well, just cremate my body or something then. Besides, I have a feeling you’d live longer than me anyway.”

Wanderer snorts. “What gave you that idea?”

He regrets asking. You cheekily lean onto your right palm, the corners of your eyes lifting and curling in delight.

“Nothing. Just a feeling.”

~~~

The Wanderer doesn’t exactly know how he feels about you.

Maybe annoyance. But whenever he spreads his lips and loosens his tongue, he can’t seem to conjure up anything negative to say about you. Not to say that you weren’t without flaws, but that he understood you. You liked talking to people but hated large crowds. Your gripes with coworkers made him remember his past Fatui Harbinger “allies.” The way you closed your eyes a bit too much when trying to make a genuine smile.

You were the antithesis of yourself. It often crossed Wanderer’s mind how and why you act the way you do. 

Never spoke about your family. Avoided talking about anything related to you. He still had no idea about when your birthday was, despite him finding the human celebration rather useless. The student beret on your head was the only way he knew that you were an Amurta student.That is to say, you don’t share much about yourself.

He does know, however, that you enjoy snacking at pita pockets like no other. Munching, teeth sinking into the dough and meat and vegetables. You only seemed rather alive in his eyes when you had something in your mouth to chew and swallow. He watched you vibrate with excitement whenever he brought you to the Grand Bazaar to grab a quick bite.

“Hey, hey, Hat Guy! Have a bite of this!”

He couldn’t stop you, hands quickly returning near his mouth whenever you got pushed away. You pressed your meal on his mouth and wouldn’t relent until he slowly took a small bite. The giddy look on your face would light up with giggles as you watched him digest the food you gave him.

Honestly, most humans didn’t have half the… unique qualities you had. The Wanderer genuinely wondered why he would keep coming back to you and the table in the House of Daena, your talks getting longer and longer by the day.

“I’ve never had a crush on anyone. In fact, I’ve never had a lover.” You spoke up one day. He watched you study with a bag of Ajilenakh Nuts next to you, the crunch of each bite echoing in the largely quiet room.

“I believe that. I don’t believe for a fact that any sane person would be with you.” He crosses his arms. You glance up at him, mouth full of sweet nuts, and continue writing not long after. 

“Explains why you’re the longest person that’s kept talking to me. Guess we’re both kind of weird, huh?” You chuckle. The Wanderer notices how your laugh was barely even an expression of laughter and more of a sigh, an exhale of air. “I’m glad I started talking to you that day.”

“...Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

Many words are left unsaid. What those words are neither of you know. So you nor he say anything. The words will find themself eventually. 

For now, you lean in closer.

It’s pretty anticlimactic. Time doesn’t stop and he doesn’t even close his eyes. It lasts less than a second and then it’s over. A smile creeps up your face as you stare into Wanderer’s eyes. His expression never changed, not before or after.

“You taste kinda like plastic. What’s up with that?” You giggle childishly, as if you didn’t just initiate a move on him. In the back of his mind Wanderer is secretly glad that there were only a couple other people in the House of Daena. This kind of thing, he thinks, was a moment that you would pull something like this.

“And you taste gross. Maybe should have chewed on some mint beforehand.” Wanderer spits out, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. But not wiping it, never. He doubts that he would forget the feeling even if he did wipe it away. 

And he wouldn’t realize until much later, that he heard you laugh genuinely for the first time.

~~~

Then the Wanderer doesn’t know what happened.

Time passed. Moments between the two of you passed, moments alone passed, and suddenly it felt like it all slipped away from him with a snap.

No, not a snap. A tunk.

His neck turned to where you were. He saw you perfectly fine. Then a pointed arrow, straight through the middle of your chest.

It missed any vital organs, he was sure, so why were you collapsed into a heap on the floor?

Before he could react, more and more volleys came flying at the two of you. He couldn't activate his vision fast enough. It was difficult to pick you up in such an awkward position, so more arrows entered your body before he could carefully pick you up and glide to a safer location.

There was ringing in his ears. He was panting despite the lack of lungs in his body. You were coughing up blood while he was too busy getting you somewhere safe. Everything blurs past him and he reaches speeds previously unknown to him. 

He settled in a cave somewhere in the Ashavan Realm. What was supposed to be a research trip for you ended up with you inching closer and closer to death, the flame of life within you dying.

“Ah, Hat Guy…” 

Your hoarse gasps caught his attention as he made sure it was safe at the mouth of the cave. He couldn't hear anything for miles besides your tense gasps for pain and shuffling on the floor.

"You'll be okay, don't worry, I know enough basic first aid-"

"Nguh, no, I don't wanna die…" 

He stopped. He heard you heaving in pain as you sobbed. When he tried to administer first aid he saw tears and dirt staining your cheeks.

"No, no, I don't want this, what's happening? I can't feel my face, what-what happened?"

Up until this point he had never seen you shed a tear. Even after you told him about how your mother died recently, you didn't even stutter or wince. He bore witness to you wiping away at your eyes and smearing mud everywhere.

"Why am I so scared? Hat Guy, my stomach feels so cold and hot at the same time, am I sick?"

"No, you're fine. I made sure to keep you safe."

He'd tried to keep you sane and mentally okay for the time being. Trying to help mend your wounds would be difficult when you were delirious. He helped pat your bloodied back in a soothing rhythm, slowly and gently.

"Don't worry."

He didn't have much to use to help you. He couldn't see any visible herbs or plants to help ease the pain either. He held you tighter and tighter as you slowly bled out on him.

"I feel so… sleepy… Wake me up in a bit, will you?" He heard you yawn, knowing you would be gone soon.

"I will. Go to sleep soon. Everything will be alright."

"Right. Love you."

Your grip on his torso grew looser while he clutched onto you. He shook when he felt your heartbeat slowly fade away. Growing increasingly exhausted he slowly laid you down.

Time to get to work.

~~~

He brings his hand closer to your chest. He sees multiple puncture wounds where the arrows entered and stuck.

He draws his fingers lightly over them. They dip and create valleys within your skin and muscles. Your body grows more and more tense as rigor mortis sets in. There was no blood pumping through your body anymore.

He traces over where your heart would be. There was no moving of your lungs taking in air.

So he plunges his fingers into your wounds.

The tell tale sound of organs squishing enters his ears. Your face unmoving and frozen, he wishes you could hear the sounds the two of you were making.

He opens up a hole to see inside you. Red, white, and bits of other colors greet him. He moves his hand a bit to find where your most important organ was.

Ah, he found it.

He accidentally snaps a few ribs in the process and your lungs are pressed against other organs. Blue-green and red veins hardly twitch while he rips your heart from them.

The thing that he was most envious of in humans. The thing that kept you alive, right in his hands. 

Nothing much happens. A couple drops of sanguine liquid drip onto your already stained clothes. The pink organ lies limp in his hand and looks oddly like animal meat.

Meat…

You always loved fatty steaks and fried chicken. He would buy you a plate of high quality meat whenever you submitted an especially big project. Pigs, cows, chickens, goats, ducks, and other odd meats you would try at least once. When you (scarcely) traveled to other nations you would share about the different kinds of animals they would serve as delicacies.

So he has no doubt that being served as a meal yourself was the highest honor he would give you.

He brings you closer to his mouth. You taste gamey, tough to chew. His canines have to rip away to properly tear a chunk of you out. 

Metallic blood adds even more flavor to the sourness of the meaty organ. He chews for a long time before he can swallow. Bite after bite he slowly but surely finishes you, making sure not to spill too much.

There are splotches of color on your skin when he finishes. He assumes that it's because there isn't anything to pump blood throughout your body. He wipes at his mouth before leaning in towards you.

He presses his lips lightly onto yours, your body temperature now much colder. Like the first, it doesn't last long. All the times you kissed, he realizes, was when he sees the real you. It made him frustrated that he could never get to see what you were truly like while you were alive.

If you survived, would you two have grown closer? Gained a sense of security in his presence? His wonders in his head fester as he watches you sleep eternally.

The sight would have been better if you were simply taking a nap. On his lap where your head rested, snoring lightly through your mouth. He would hope that his hand gently brushing over your cheeks wouldn't wake you up.

And then you'd wake up, stirring and stretching your arms from lack of movement. You'd smile, a real smile, and he'd scoff back at your cheeky grin.

But he can't. Because humans are just too fragile. A couple arrows through you and nothing could bring you back. He stares, and stares, at your eyes that would never open again.

He wishes you never said that. "If" he ever died. At this moment he wants nothing more than to become mortal like you, just to experience it all over with you again. 

Together.

[lou-struck]

Haunted House

Wakatoshi Ushijima x Reader

Flufftober Day 4: Haunted House

~ you hoped you would really be able to scare your boyfriend at this haunted house, but it really came back to bite you in the butt.

The grip you have on Your boyfriend's massive hands is deathly, but he seems unfazed as he drags you through the hallowed halls of the haunted house.

Another actor jumps out at you and you hide your face in his sleeve in fear. Wakatoshi stands strong, unblinking, and unemotional as he stares over at the man currently dressed as a masked killer.

His olive eyes drift downward to the chainsaw the man is currently waving at you. Gently brushing back a strand of your disheveled hair from your face he speaks. “Y/n, this chainsaw can’t hurt you, it doesn’t have a chain in it.” He says it’s so kindly that you wanna punch him. But you have no one to blame but yourself for your current situation…

It all started the other night when the two of you were watching One of your favorite scary movies. He had never seen it before and so you were hoping to give him a little freight during one of the jump scare scenes.

But by the time the scare came and went, his expression stayed just as passive while you once again sprang from your seat in surprise.

‘Some people are just good with scary movies’ You thought to yourself, ‘Maybe if he was jumped at in real life he would react.’

This led to you buying tickets to one of the city's most famous haunted houses, this warehouse features dozens of rooms and scene changes that lead visitors through a maze of horror. But now you’re the one getting scared and not your boyfriend.

“Do you want to keep going? You look uncomfortable.” He asks.

You really don’t want to keep going, the jump scares this far have put you on the edge, The beating of your heart seems to shake your body and your legs are feeling a bit weak. But you are motivated by curiosity and a little bit of spite. Wakatoshi Ushijima has never been spooked before. You have to see what he would look like.

You clear your throat and look up at him with the termination. “ yeah, I’m ready. Let’s go.” He nods and the two of you step further into the building.

Even though there are other people making their way through the house, it’s quiet. Artificial fog fills the air as it bounces off the dimly lit walls.

There is a sinister chill that grows on you more and more as you make your way through the house. Your previous determination figures like a candle in the wind as you find yourself shivering. It’s much colder in here than it was in the line.

At least you have Wakatoshi with you, he stands tall and his body radiates heat that makes you cling to him more. "Are you sure you're not afraid?"

You say nothing and continue to follow behind him leaving the sounds of screaming and revving chainsaws behind you.

The next scene you make it to looks like a doll house, everything is frilly, pink, and, pristine. Its innocence is unnerving in a way the other rooms were not.

Your shoulders tense as you scan the room trying to find the horror hiding amongst the unblinking porcelain dolls.

"I don't see anything in here," you mumble "Maybe the actor is on break?"

Ushijima hums and looks around, "I see, then we should move on.”

You take an all too eager step toward the exit and suddenly an airy giggle fills the room

"Are you leaving me already?'

Your eyes dart around anxiously trying to find where it's coming from until something catches your eye. A large doll, no, a puppet ascends from the ceiling on two large silk ropes. Its cracked features and sickeningly sweet grin strike a new type of fear in your heart. There are no sounds that you could utter that would be fitting of how you are feeling.

Your legs give out from under you.

Now on the floor, you look up at your boyfriend who looks down on you with a look of worry.

“Are you alright?” he asks gently crouching down to your level. As the actor apologizes for scaring you so badly behind him.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine." You murmur trying to catch your breath.

"You hold out your hand for him to help you up, but he opts instead to just scoop your scared self off of the carpeted floor and holds you in his arms.

"You scared me," he says softly "I'm gonna keep you close so we can get out of here."

"You were sacred?" you say cracking a bit of a smile.

Your legs may feel numb, and you have been tormented by clowns, killers, corpses, and dolls for the past hour, but you finally did it. You scared Wakatoshi Ushijima. you giggle a bit and nestle yourself into his strong chest. and you giggle triumphantly.

"What's so funny?" he asks confusedly.

"It's nothing," you smile "Let's get out of here."

~

Once you make it through the house and out the exit he places you on the ground.“ I found that quite enjoyable,” he says cupping your cheek.

“Why?“ You pout, “The house didn't scare you at all.”

“I wasn’t scared, but you were.“ he says, his lips turn upwards with the smallest hint of a smile. “ I enjoyed having you in my arms like that, I think that we should do it more often.“

[hecate-spawn]

my project sekai wishlist, Tuyu addition because I listen to them too much

Compared child: ok genuinely how the fuck has this not already been covered. Anyway, MafuEna. Each get individual alt vocals

Underkids: either Nightcord full unit or MizuRui. Mizuki has to have an alt vocals because, uh, Mizuki. And all the others getting solo alts would be cool tho

I'm getting on the bus to another world, see ya: nightcord full unit or MizuMafu.

If there was an end point: same as the last one

Good bye to rock you: Leo/need. It literally has rock in the title come in man. Also Shiho and Ichika would probably sound pretty good. Alt for both or just Shiho

Loser girl: MINOHARU COVER ON MY KNEES BEGGING. Also Minori alt vocal

what if this isn't a slave: MAFUYU. THIS SONG IS LITERALLY SO MAFUYU THE PUPPET ON STRINGS AND EVERYTHING

I hope you become an adult some day: MMJ FULL UNIT! It would be SO good. Airi and Haruka would be the voice of reason while Shizuku and Minori could be the fan girls

Being low as dirt taking what's important from me: Ena. Though I think it could be an interesting Saki cover. Mafuyu also works.

Dämonish: Ena. Ena just gets a solo of the song.

Even tears withered: Mafuyu and Ena.

To bask in the rain: either MizuEna or SakiShiho

trapped in the past: Mafuyu

It's raining after all: MizuEna, KanaMafu or Saki with Ichika or Shiho

okay that's basically all the TUYU songs I listen to and know. I had to look up the lyrics for "it's raining after all", "trapped in the past" and "to bask in the rain"

I have reasons for all of them so feel free to ask or add or give your own opinion

[immoralimmortals]

A Song With Ten Names

Chapter 28: Misanthrapologist (4)

Chapter 1 ☆ Next chapter ☆ AO3 ☆ Featured song playlist

Summary of chapter: The intimacy of bare skin can have multiple meanings.

Author's Note:

You see the title! That means, say it with me: This chapter is going to be fucked up!

Warnings for unsafe knifeplay and unsafe sadomasochism, brief descriptions of a corpse. This is also the exact point where I begin to question how sexual I'm going to make this fic. Do not be surprised if I rescind my initial claim that it "isn't over sexual but will be erotic". I've never written fucking before but hey, always time for something new I suppose. Just don't have an expectation either way, I'm just vibing chapter by chapter. Either sorry in advance for what you're about to read, or you're welcome. Take your pick.

The song for this chapter is once again Misanthrapologist by Will Wood.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

So call me Amadeus

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Formaldehyde soaks dust motes in the air, powerful enough to wake her from sleep. She has to catch her breath, mouth agape and forehead sweaty from lustful, confusing dreams. She rubs her temple, staring at the ceiling as she tries to identify how she knows this scent. The days have been drifting in and out, so she asks herself first what time it is and takes cues. Deidara is motionless on the chair across her makeshift sickbed, an airy snore in his nose and throat, and the window behind him reveals the signs of a rising sun but not the star itself. Twilight. Moonlight and sunlight alike wash over her, gentle and assuring so as to beg her to stand, and with a curl of her brow, the sickly sweet scent of death lifts her out of bed.

Step. Step. Step.

The stranger feels her arms swing loosely from her joints, each footstep echoing back to her ears in this old house that listens and speaks back. She got comfortable to this place fast; she can tell, now that everything feels foreign once again.

Creak. Creak. Creak.

Uninterrupted, she goes up the stairs. Everyone must be asleep so as to let her do this. This is the first she’s been alone since she came “home," uninjured in body but battered near death in spirit. Faces of people she doesn’t recognize stare at her from oval-framed paintings across the staircase. Ghosts, ghosts, ghosts. They’re not literally her family but might as well be with what they have in common. Around the corner in singleminded need and curiosity the woman goes, avoiding Kisame and Itachi’s hall, going past Hidan and Kakuzu’s, and turning down the one where Deidara keeps his things and Sasori keeps his body. Like it’s just for her, the ladder to the attic is already down. The scent is so strong now that she can taste it. This is the place.

Climb. Climb. Climb.

This largest room in the building, the one that was once hers, welcomes her with its now sterile yet still dusty veneer, glum and empty where she can see, hinting to be full of things unknown where she can not. A short man has blood red hair as his chin tilts down to an autopsy table, either brought in with her unwitting due to her delirium or— perhaps more likely— brought into existence via scroll and smoke. She pays him no mind, not even asking for forgiveness, as she pulls herself onto the wood flooring and wanders to the pair of those dead in different ways. The patient is not here for her impromptu doctor.

Sasori watches in silence; she is blissfully unaware how, despite it all, fake eyes twitch in wooden sockets. His reaction is bothering him nearly as much as the feeling in the cylinder within his otherwise hollow chest. Underneath lantern light, he watches this stranger but does not stop her; it is her choice, after all, whether or not to view the body.

...

The puppet has spent so long looking at his next subject, so they stay locked upon his interruption. What? What does she want? If she's not here to say sorry for causing this mess, is this weak little waif just here to mock him? He gets his answer just as long as it takes for him to get uncomfortable.

“This is Hiniri,” she says, and it’s the most she’s spoken in days. She can tell it’s them from the holes ripped into the corpse, wide enough to match the injuries Zetsu inflicted in her rescue. The cadaver is already drained of fluids, the preservation process of the scorpion’s underway, what innards left and visible now flaccid and gray. The person lays there, unclothed and under light of a captured flame and the barest hint of outside celestial bodies through a curtained window. Voice gone forever, face finally seen. Surely this is nothing like what the hoshi-nin was like under the mask, color now leaving so cold hues replace warm, but the woman named Takara swears anyway that they look just like her. One thing that doesn’t change so fast when you die is the color of your hair; the ninja who had her voice also has that in common with their cause of death. Softly, so softly, tired eyes hood even more. They match the way the body’s eyes are half open, too.

She has no idea what Hiniri is doing here, but part of her is not surprised. With that thought passing her mind, she finally remembers Sasori and explains out loud to him, if only so one other human being knows: “She saved me.” About to kill her, yes, but still bought her time and defended until it was no longer an option. “She wanted me to live.” An exchange of one for the other; is this how it was meant to end? The traveler will wonder if it was supposed to be her.

There’s an eager, begging, familiar sort of feeling in her chest, and like the smell of chemicals to preserve the flesh, it takes her a second to pin down. The lips of Hiniri’s body are ever so slightly parted, and like you may grieve at a loved one’s funeral, Takara behaves in kind. No one else will be here to mourn in the way this person deserves.

Sasori watches as the woman leans down to kiss the body, and something in his capsuled heart cracks open as she pulls away and leaves, silently as she came.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

But I still can't keep a straight face while I'm praying

But I could crack my kneecaps

Just to please you

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You reek.”

It gives her chest a sharp, guilty pang as Hidan rolls his head and looks with tired eyes just to say so. He’s sitting right next to her; don’t suppose it can be helped he notices a lack of hygiene, but the way he wrinkles his nose and leans back doesn’t help, either. There’s something about being called disgusting that’s worse than being disliked in other ways. Still sleepwalking awake, she apologizes only with a downward tilt of the head, avoiding his scrutinizing gaze—

Snap.

As he’s done before to get her attention, he snaps his fingers to direct where she should look. What’s new, though, is how despite her gross state, it’s followed up as the reaper oh so gently holds underneath her chin and guides her stare. He looks at her up and down, evaluating something with a purse of his lips, raise of one brow, and a questioning hum in his throat. He says something, too, and for a moment she’s sure she’s still dreaming:

“You need help?”

…

The implication seeps into her and suddenly her heart knows how to race again. Does she need help? Bathing? Bathing. Oh dear lord. Her eyes keep on his lest she look down and remember what he looks like down there (if she was even seeing properly that night). A swallow…

Yes, a voice tells her, accept! When else will this happen?

But…

But.

That would be to lie. To take advantage of. To make him think that she needs help to take care of herself. So, then...answer that question. Do you need help to bathe, to subject him to that chore and humiliation? Surely he’s only offering because he has to. What a good friend, and so Hidan deserves her best. She knows the answer to this, and with evil’s regret, she shakes her head.

...But Hidan in turn only sees her hesitance, and it doesn’t sit well in his gut. He tilts his head and tries again: “...Do you want my help?”

Oh, that’s a different question entirely.

In disbelief, all blood running through veins like a racetrack, there's no choice but to reconsider. He doesn’t look lustful, not like how she feels. He looks...well, like his usual. Bored. This is mundane for him to offer, somehow. And then she draws the connection, his casualness of appearing nude before until pressured into shame. Unsure of if guilt should be in her heart after all...she nods. The woman does want it, so very badly.

That’s all he needs. Hidan picks her up, carries her to the bath room, and closes the door. Every sense is suddenly so loud and alive. With a sigh he runs the bathwater, each batter against the edges of the tub so distinct in waves that splash around. And then, her seated on a bench, Hidan raises from his knees and approaches, standing tall over she so small.

“Alright...come ‘ere.”

It’s hard to miss how tense she becomes. Reaching palms stop where they are, hovering above the straps of her dress upon tightening shoulders.

“What? What’s wrong?”

What’s wrong is that she has never experienced anything like this before. Recognizing something is up but not what, his hands back off and he waits. “...Can you say? Huh?”

She’s not sure she can. He exhales.

“If ya changed yer mind, I can just go. Just don't drown— ”

And against her mind, her body answers immediately. She grips his sleeve as he turns to leave. No. No way. Not when her fantasy is so close she can taste it. Hunger saturates her shaking stare.

“I’ve...never…” Her tongue doesn’t work. “I-I-I-...I’ve...never…” He grunts again in questioning prompt. The way he looks down at her so calmly, muscles so chiseled that peek behind his undone cloak, makes this even harder. “Been...n...n…”

The bathwater still runs, filling the quiet as puzzle pieces start finding where they fit in his brain.

…His eyes blink softly, finally getting it. “Ah. Okay. Keep forgetting everywhere else is so weird about this. It’s just a bath. Not like we're fucking or anything.” His tongue slips before it can be stopped. “Really though? Never been cunt out in front of someone else...?”

Did he really have to put it like that? She shakes her head, though not nearly as fast as she wants to. And then he says something even stranger:

“Well. That’s a shame.” And then continues like it’s nothing. “Listen...can I prove to you that it’s okay?”

And how...can she say no to that? She swallows, and though she nods, a whisper drifts and there's fear tainting her expression. “I’m sorry.”

And as lovingly as possible, he tells her: "Shut up."

Careful like she’s tissue paper, the dress is slipped off her shoulders, top pulling down first until fabric drifts to the floor. His hands are somehow both rough and soft, a hypocrisy much like him, and though she doesn't know what she feels there is still so very much of it as he lifts her vulnerable form up. The room is colder, but not for long. The sound of water fills her ears. She feels the sponge on her skin, sees his scars on his arms that reach over her, into the bath, and can compare them to hers. She has many where no one could see until now. He looks at her the entire time, those piercing violet eyes, but unlike himself, he says little. It’s a ritual of sorts, perhaps, a strange one to him though he can grasp its importance to her. There is, indeed, something intimate about caring for someone at their lowest. He combs her hair with just his hands and she has nothing at all to compare it to; it is simply an experience entirely new. It melds so oddly with her wondering about what’s under her own skin, the fact that she’s a couple gaping holes away from being the corpse that looks like just her. If she’s undead, is she so pale inside, too, or is she still as alive and vibrant as she feels?

The hands that caress her remind of a past promise.

Hidan really does think it’s a shame no one has seen her in this state before. Purity isn’t real, but a lack of appreciation is, and she already has too much to feel bad about. But it's over now, so soon. In reverse of before, he lifts her up, sets her on the bench. As is only fair, his shoulders become bare and black and red is pressed upon her, his cloak in leau of a towel to dry her off. It smells like Hidan, like death and wet metal and something so alluringly musky; if she's lucky, maybe it'll cling to her so there's a momento of this, however how brief it lasts. She stares at him with wide eyes and wonders what is underneath his skin, too.

Little does he know, she’s about to ask.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Oh, oh, oh, I like you, don't you see?

I just like you a little more than me

I, I like you, don't you see?

Oh, hey, I just like you a little more than me

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Side by side again, same place as before but with so much more between them. An arm loops behind her head, onto the back of the couch, and Hidan holds the pendant to his face with his free hand as he worships in silence for them both. There's only one thing allowed to break it, and it does so in that voice he misses so much:

“You said you want me to do anything to you...that I want to do to me?”

...The longest sentence since she’s come back home. That isn’t lost upon the devout Jashinist. He takes it as seriously a prayer, cracking open one eye to look squarely at her from its corner.

“Yeah.”

It’s all on her face; she can’t say it with her mouth. Quivering fingers grasp around those casing silver, not asking him to let go of the necklace but to share it with her, and big, scared eyes beg him to help once again, another way, to either tell her it’s the right thing to do or not. But she already knows his answer. No one else would smile so sweetly about it. Nectar on his lips drips the certain reply:

“I know just the place, angel.”

Into his bedroom, and the door closes again, not for his sake but hers. As he was prepared to the very first time, when she merely cut his hand, it is his turn to undress entirely and be at her delicate mercy. She doesn’t stop him; she’s too frozen to, is her excuse. He takes his time, knowing his master is watching with a good guess why.

“I’ve never..." it comes in confirmation; modesty be damned, tantalizing curiosity can't be stopped. "...Seen someone else naked before,” she admits, omitting ‘in person.’ The silver haired demon cocks his head, one hand on bare hip as a leg kicks away pants.

“Well...how is it?”

She has no idea what to say to that, so after she tilts her head down once again to avoid Hidan’s gaze, but just as before, he pulls the chin back to look at him. He’s somehow both so coy and so innocent about this. The woman is melting in all the wrong and right ways. The Jashinist doesn't need to say this to clinch the deal, but he does for their satisfaction and ecstasy:

“I’m all yours.”

Good on his word, the man lays back down on the symbol of his god and now hers, though truth be told, she’s not thinking of Jashin at all. Every time she talked to Hidan about his religion, her mind was never there. It was always about Hidan. Always about him. He waits so obediently as she leans above him, tender flesh ready to take her suffering and carve it into prayer. She can only abide; that is her excuse for this.

He grits his teeth and smile cracks wide just as a woman with scared, dull eyes cuts him open. He exhales, a laugh in the back of his mouth, and she wonders if what she did when alive really was enough to put her in such a place as this, to give a man pleasure not with herself but with her own pain and morbid, alienating curiosity. Is that heaven or hell? Red. Red. Red. It dribbles past the subtle curves of his pectorals and onto the silver around his neck, just as it should.

He’s beautiful, and she wishes it could be different, but at least she’s good for something. She has no idea he’s thinking something much the same.

The rest is a blur until the knife drops from her shaking hand.

She tends to his wounds and redresses him slowly, one garment at a time, as it is the least she can do, tears welling in her eyes but lips with nothing to cry about, and Hidan wonders if maybe this is what it’s like to be nude for the first time for someone outside of a land where hot springs are abound, a flush in his cheeks as he pretends her kindness does not matter. The woman can cut him up and sew him back together as many times as she’d like, if only to get her to touch him again, so loving and mindful and meek. Something about that feels so much more sinful than mere bloodshed for a death god. Tender is our flesh; be careful as you worship it.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Oh, oh, oh yeah

Oh yeah

Oh yeah

Oh no

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[siremasterlawrence]

The Puppet: Sheriff Brent

Part 1

Barry Jackson has disappeared from sight according to his family he is gone like a light he completely vanishes without a word into the wind.

Sheriff Brenton Alan is currently on the hunt for him getting in to his police car he drove out of the city heading in to the forest area to the real world

His town is always a lowly small town with nothing going on at the moment accept for this end mystery he slips on the radio twisting the knob.

Something is off as he crosses the what they call the great decide a line separating the world as we know no one ever returns home.

Could he have cross the barrier we all he did but why, all I have is his cellphone and an empty receipt.

How on earth can full tank of gas totally deplete so fast after I filled it up a mere few seconds ago.

The car stalls rolling down to the end of the forest to a bridge it hits hard leaving him shaken.

He pops the door open his feet landing on the ground slamming the door he lifts his hand over his eyes.

The sheriff stares in shock can’t understand the fog filtering in to the entire area he is lost to the sea.

“What is going on? Where am I?” The Sheriff asks.

“I was in the forest a minute ago.” He slams his fist swearing in a shock.

“There is a light bright in my face.”

“Is this another world?”

“A new timeline?”

“DAMN IT! Barry are you there?”

“This is sheriff Brenton “

“Where the hell is he?”

“I most go by foot”

Part 2

Sheriff Brenton finds his feet beginning to move something in him stirs as his eyes pop with his pupils changing colors often.

The fog cloaks him in a shade of a darkness he fails in to it moving forward his feet slip falling down a cliff.

He hits the ground in searing pain he shifts to his side landing on his back he seething in anger.

He leans in a bit pushing upward his hands are propelling upward he holds himself up to standard.

His vision blocks a bit unable to see through the shade of cloaks and he finds his sled in a state of nothingness.

The clouds are gone soon enough a strange man can be seen in the far south of the land with a young guy next to him.

He digs in to his pocket removing a small ass picture from his pocket tightly he held it to his face.

“It is Barry, what did that bastard do?”

“I have to save him”

“Wait? My holster? My gun?”

“Where is my uniform?”

“Whose clothes are these?”

“Mwahahahahaha”

“You thought you could enter my domain”

“Who are you ?”

“The Master of this kingdom”

“Step aside! I am here for Barry “

“Barry is perfectly fine”

Part 3

“Barry Please Come Here”

“Yes Master”

“Explain yourself”

“Yes Master”

“I love him”

“He is my world”

“My everything “

“My lord, master and god”

“He is my king “

“You can’t be serious “

“Dead serious “

“If you lay a hand on him”

“You will regret it”

“You will do what?”

“Break every bone in your body “

“No!”

“Don’t make me”

“It’s no point to resist “

“He is always right”

“I learnt that well”

“He helped me”

“Shape me”

“Save me”

“I love him”

The sound of his heartbeat matches the airy pounding of the drums growing in heavy odd synths.

Brenton’s body quakes in energy soothing him deeply he falls in to a deep like trance he stands empty.

I happily watch him slipping from the private backstage computer room in to the hallway I step on to the stages.

“Perfect! This will be a great addition “

“Let me feel you up”

“You are hard “

“So fucking hard”

“Small cock though”

“Call me Master”

“Yes Master”

“Sir Yes Sir”

“I own you, you will succumb to me”

“I will succumb “

“I surrender to you “

“I love you “

“Yes”

“My love”

“Good boi”

The end

[omegaverse-bfdi]

Hello, everyone. I know that the beta OSC sexyoff just ended and we're all still reeling from Lollipop's landslide victory, but I am pleased to announce that I have decided the OFFICIAL OSC SEXYOFF will begin this Saturday!

24 objects enter, 1 object leaves. Who will be crowned the reigning champ? That's all up to you!

And now, for the best part.

Today through Friday, YOU, that's right, YOU, reading this post right now, can recommend a character for the smackdown! How? It's easy! Simply recommend your character through my askbox, with their name, a picture, and why you think they deserve to be in the poll.

Of course, I do ask that any characters from Burger Brawl or any other shows in the "Friend Show" category not be entered, as they are based on real people. And let's try not to recommend too many Inanimate Insanity or BFDI characters, we wanna give other object shows a chance.

AS OF NOW, THE ROSTER OF 36 IS:

- Lollipop (Battle for BFDI, winner of the beta OSC sexyoff)

- Ann (The Waiting Room)

- Taco (Inanimate Insanity)

- Tree (Battle for BFDI)

- MePhone4 (Inanimate Insanity)

- Bacon (Animated Inanimate Battle)

- Pitchfork (Animated Inanimate Battle)

- Candle (Inanimate Insanity)

- Airy (HFJOne)

- Journal (Paper Puppets Take 2)

- Liam Plecak (HFJOne)

- Bryce Hansen (HFJOne)

- Safe (Animated Inanimate Battle)

- Two (The Power of Two)

- Flower (Battle for Dream Island)

- Damien (The Waiting Room)

- Knife (Inanimate Insanity)

- Cup (The Waiting Room)

- Micheal (Love of the S*n)

- Steve Cobs (Inanimate Insanity)

- Evil Computer (The Daily Object Show)

- Moonlight (The Daily Object Show)

- Julien Beaumont (HFJOne)

- Four (Battle for BFDI)

(Blank spaces are for characters you recommend via askbox!)

Good luck, and may the best sexy object win..!

[puppeteer-airy-offical]

you're on a path in the woods, and at the end of that path, is the cabin. and in that cabin is a princess. you're here to slay her oh nooooooooooooo

…huh…?

[nyctoraffles]

WIP Wednesday — Oil-lamp Mermaid

The pale sunlight seeping into the classroom before first period is almost blinding. His classmates' voices reverberate in Jamil’s skull as if to herald an impending migraine. It's a lightheadedness akin to that of mind control magic; much like a puppet tugged along by external strings, the body currently sitting in place feels nothing like his own. 

There is no magic or sickness at play here, but fatigue alone, for better or worse. 

Around him, the room spins in a blur of flashes and colours, and just as Jamil feels like his head might burst at the seams the world comes into focus at last.

“Good morning, Jamil.” Azul’s arrival, unwelcome as it may be, anchors Jamil to the present. “Is this spot taken?” 

It’s a rhetorical question not even worth asking; Azul would sit next to him regardless, even if it was. Vision cleared and heart rate settled, Jamil just shrugs. “Do whatever you want.”

Trademark smile plastered across his face, Azul sets his books down and claims the seat to Jamil’s right.

Their history lesson begins shortly thereafter, and the lecture has just about started when Jamil spaces out again, mind drifting uncharacteristically across the room. Concentrate, he tells himself, but his head is aching, his eyelids heavy and his shoulders tense. In the background, Trein’s explanation melds with Lucius’s mewls into an unintelligible drone. Concentrate, he thinks again, and succeeds— at the cost of zeroing in on the entirely wrong thing.

Beside him, gloved hands do what they know best: ink flows over the page along the strokes of Azul’s pen, looping and arching in an impeccable script. Jamil’s gaze falls over the long, slender fingers; well-suited for playing the piano, he muses absently, recalling an offhand comment by Floyd. 

What was Azul like before arriving on land? Jamil tries to envision it, but his mind turns up empty. Club activities have gotten him well-acquainted with Floyd’s merform, and by extension, Jamil reckons he could hazard a guess on Jade’s. However, while he can perfectly picture a younger version of the twins, Jamil can’t even begin to fathom what Azul looks like underwater. He supposes it makes sense. In the end, there is nothing he shares with Azul other than a homeroom, but Jamil cannot shake the feeling that he’s at an overwhelming disadvantage.  

Azul ploughed through every barrier and shed light on the self Jamil had spent a lifetime trying to repress. Truth pried open and plans undone, Azul had witnessed his ego in full display. It’s humiliating, really. By contrast, Jamil knows nothing about Azul that one wouldn’t about the average classmate.  A new pang of annoyance strikes him, sensing the disparity; so, Jamil does the only logical thing and peers at Azul’s profile in search of answers.

He examines each inch with care, as if the key to some intangible mystery were to be found in any of it: the frames of his glasses, the shape of his eyes, the curve of his nose, the way his lips part or how his neck bobs. Jamil isn’t one for romanticism or poetry, but had he not known Azul’s incompetence on a broom to rival even that of  a boulder’s, he would have been tempted to say that the loose ringlet at the side of Azul’s face has an almost airy quality to it, like a weightless puff of smoke, the ever-changing ridges of desert sand, or something similarly nonsensical. 

As he reflects on it, he becomes aware of the rosy tinge spreading rapidly over Azul’s cheeks, even as he continues to write his notes. Spring had brought alongside it the steady rise of temperatures and Jamil considers, not for the first time, that merfolk are adverse to warmth. 

It stirs memories of that ill-advised celebration during their disastrous winter break. While Jamil indulged Kalim and danced all common sense away, Azul watched from the sidelines, face flushed even when standing under the desert shade.

Well, at least there's that.

Having arrived at the conclusion that octopi have a low tolerance for even the most temperate of climates, Jamil finally tunes into Trein’s lecture and applies himself to his own work. 

[libidomechanica]

And are than my heavy eyelids to play

Until its cool under than fail.     And saints will came home. We have no arms and he rais’d his     Divided love. Whether at this fiery flame. I have sung,     puppet to be full of

yesterday dropped away, wants to     the anchor weeps! Once I see you with the same; whether in     Thee vain are fond will befa’ the war-drum throbb’d no longer     give birth to me wrongs thee

happy roses were a target     forests, vouchsafe you meet someone’s lips; he said she a     lot said? Religion but me; they never noticed you as     a beast that his woe. Now

that has born formally to sometimes     past and mind, in a’ its cool again what could deceive.     Marry a monster. Last summer loath took my eyesight and     music wove our spirit

is the womb all along together.     Her own neighbour thought in ever grew beside a lonely     downe dyd lye. To tae that which doth bind, threat’ning with     pornographic kiss flashing

she coming, I told by rings: but     listen; and, once didst alive them ought me, my only and     touch. And caught is destitute but, themselves do come in I     do sturre, and the eleventh

a Moon—the David! Suddenly     for their arms and eyes were ever groan; where I for a     beast wish be vain; deceived: for her tongue doesn’t looked out of seasoned     rocked to behold Fury

spring disdaine, and haply     say truth to die. A cornerstone. In himself to give you     meet someone saw us thou among the Ear of our loved     so longer it was in.

Prints his pocket, risking the heavy     head, and did invitation, O thou leapt someone asks—     You are thee, while its face? An ever seeded or unfastened     song is he alone.

How strange flowers of amber     tears, and hurl their door. Death, immortal go. Mated with gilt     bosse and what a pleasure never not live or dine. And you     fresh hope, which Life bestowes

one that I cannot be seized     with the sea, salt-sweet name, showing your legend be, it glowing     youth last and horse, a heap of citation, wear my breast     almighty ever-proud

queen-woman who but its thorny     tree but you until frustrations’ airy navies grappling     into a river of the music, am banished     his white balloons that from

the Brightening, words new, spending be.     At this sires reuenge, ioyn’d with many sighes is blowne away     the square. Where mething a dangerous though earth, I like tree.     Somewhere you love is old

and after year, my carrot, my     cabbage, I woke discover the promise made such mirrored     in tears as the sound. I have scope and payne. In thee so farre     men on the truth to Geb

and Nut, Isis and be the sun     looked out shame, and report. Evil Cloud rain Sorrowes on     my small porch … year and asks you but you’d suspect: a markes     each other sound. Still death-

wound, whom my bosom tear alone     can stop the ragged wood, for the king’s real, or his sword of     a leaky boat is part; sweete, making be. Love is best is;     how your silently, an

aster, whom lover. Ye goatherd     gods, that he love is a garden, that once said, the Sweetness     of mine from the Sheepe, whose blots that warmed my love to fight me     in hand the founts of roses,

that warp us from the night     sky, a delayed and vain the jingling on the snake-like feel     thee. Soothe hill, and in our lives in this this, the merciless     Tyrant fled; thou toldst mind.

[k-439]

Could you give a list of your characters? I want to ask questions but I don't see any information on any of them. I tried going on your toyhouse and it leads to nothing.

Oh my gosh, I haven't been on this account for a while, my apologies.

Yes I can! Its under the keep reading. I have over 100s of characters haha so It's pretty long. My toyhouse is here! Sorry it doesn't work on the blog, I will try and fix that. Thank you for being interested in my characters and oc blog :). My artfight has some of my fleshed out characters that I really love.

CHARACTER LIST:

always growing!

A

○ Abby

○ Airis

○ Alcott

○ Alfie

○ Allison

○ Amael

○ Anaiah

○ Anolo Cruz

○ Argo

○ Axe

B

○ Beau

○ Berri

○ Bird man

C

○ Camillo

○ Circus workers (4 no named)

○ Circus owner + family

○ Circus owner mistress

○ Citali

○ Crawly

○ Crawdons

○ Cupid

D

○ Dino Juice

○ Donotspeakofthem

E

○ Eterni

○ Eve Campbell

F

○ Flopsy

○ Freddie

G

○ Ghosts of Karaa (2 no named)

○ Giegue

○ Gwen

H

○ Half-Pink

○ Heart Collector

○ Hollie

I

○ Iggy Alfonso

○ Iggy's hot sister

○ Iggy's other sister

○ Iggy's parents (The alfonsos)

○ Illusionist

○ Imara Akshaya

○ Ira

○ Irene

○ Ivo

J

○ Jirou

○ Juggler

K

○ Kahu

L

○ Lorelai

○ Leilani

○ Luca

○ Lulu

○ Luni

○ Lutuya

○ "Lovers men" (2 no named)

M

○ Maggie

○ Malacoda

○ Marshall

○ Max

○ Miffy

○ Miley

○ Milo

○ Msa

N

○ Naomi

○ "Night and Sun" (Nox Dawn and Daisy Dawn, sadly not a Fnaf AU.)

○ "No Arms" (2 no named)

O

○ Odyss

P

○ Penny

○ Puppet Master

R

○ Ray

○ Rex

○ Ringmaster (unnamed)

○ Ringmaster family (unknown number of people)

○ Robin

○ Ruby

S

○ Serentiy

○ Sevyn

○ Sol

○ Sick Rick

○ Singing Clowns (unknown number of people)

○ "Strong Softy" (no name)

○ Sui Nyx

○ Suki

○ Suerte (its a cat)

T

○ Tani

○ Teeth

○ Tru

○ Traffic Cone Girl

○ Twins (2 unnamed)

V

○ Valentina

○ Vanny

W

○ "Witch" Crystal ball reader (unnamed)

Y

○ Yuno

Z

○ Zuri

[crapolicedolls]

let's doll things up

Yo! I've really neglected this blog over the years, so for 2024 I wanted to start posting more again. Odds are I'll be posting up some old photos as well as new ones, and I'll be tagging things to be easier for me to find. (This is a pinned post for the blog.)

#crapolicedolls → tag for all my dolls #crappy talks → tag for random chatter #ask → answered asks #resin comparison → photos from myself and others #submission → submitted posts from you! [ this section will expand as I organize things ]

My Doll Collection:

#aster → DDdy DDH-06 #mary → Doll Leaves Puppet-04 #raina → Fairyland Minifee Rheia [rehomed] #sterling → Ringdoll Jack the Ripper #penelope → 2D Doll Xiao Ai #kireha → Dollfie Dream Hatsune Miku #snowbelle → Angelphilia Marina [rehomed] #apple → SOOM Lami surprise ver. + Dollpamm Loli body #lavinia claire → Unoa Lusis #abel → Granado Enoch #reuben al amin → Dollshe Craft 28M David Kuncci #Super Sonico → Dollfie Dream Uzuki Shimamura + DDdy #vincent → Miracle Doll Vic v.2 + DF-H 65cm body #tristan ilya amir → Miracle Doll Jing v.1 + Doll Chateau A-03 body #crispen → Miracle Doll Jing v.2 + Doll Chateau A-06 body #lapin → Birdcube Lapin #solaria → MYOU Delia sp.

-------------------------

Flickr Reposts:

a long while back I used this blog to post Dollfie Dreams from Flickr, since there wasn't much love for DDs here. I'm leaving the posts up for head reference and identification. below is a list of tags for all sculpts I reposted.

#DDH 01 #DDH 03 #DDH 04 #DDH 05 #DDH 06 #DDH 07#DDH 08 #DDH 09 #Airy #Akira #Alice #Alna #Aoko #Arle #Asuna #Beatrice #Candy #Chihaya #Cirno #Erica (Fontaine) #Erika (Sendou) #Estel (Freesia) #Feena #Haruka (contains both Niimi and Amami) #Honda (Mio) #Illya #Kanu #Kirika #Konomi #KOSMOS #Lucy #Makoto #Mariko #Marisa #Mashiro #Melty #Miki (Hoshii) #Miku #Millhiore #Mio (Akiyama) #Miu #Moe #MOMO #Nanoha #Nemu #Neris #Nia #Ranka #Ranko #Rin (contains both Shibuya and Tohsaka) #Rina (Ogata) #Rise #Ryoumu #Saber #Sakura #Sakuno #Sakuya #Sasara#Sheryl (Nome) #Sinon #Takane #Tamaki #Uzuki #Yaya #Youmu #Yui #Yuki #Yukiho

VMF50s / Angelphilia

#risa (Type-G) #kana (Type-H) #misa (Type-J) #marina (Type-K)#lena (Type-M) #sayuri (Type-N) #honoka (Type-O)

#smartdoll

[multi-maker]

soulmate AU where the first words your soulmate says to you are written on your wrist!! i've been thinking about the concept lately.. as for the character what about scara?? since you wanted to write for him!! maybe he was sent to attack reader who's a vip or some diplomat or just an important position in an enemy nation and then he just bruhs when they say the words on his wrist??

flowery words.

summary. the words tattoo’ed on your wrist is the words your soulmate will first say when you meet them.

pairing. scaramouche x gender neutral! reader

notes. SCARAMOUCHE ?!?!!! SCARAAAMOUUCHE MY LOVEEE !! it’s my first time writing for that tiny ball of anger so i hope you liked it! spoilers for scaramouche’s backstory as well as inazuma’s archon quest! warning for morally grey reader & well … scaramouche?

in the world scaramouche lives in, the tattoo’ed words on his wrist brings him comfort. he deals in death and violence — solely relying on his prowess to survive and keep his title as the sixth harbinger strong. he isn’t weak, nor is he merely “all talk”. he actually has the power to back up his quite arrogant words.

despite being created and made by the raiden shogun as a puppet, the words that decorate his wrist like a bracelet was enough for her to assume that even the gods of celestia pity puppets like his.

(he scoffs at the notion. the gods of celestia are not merciful.)

whenever he felt stressed or feel his thunder-like wrath in his chest, he would take a look at the words that wrap around his wrist. he longed for the day to hear it, to hear the voice speak the words that litterl his wrist.

he just didn’t expect it to be you.

he was sent by the tsaritsa to dispose of you — a high ranking noble in the land of hydro. he snuck in easily, blending with the people of fontaine. the tsaritsa told him that you were being a nuisance to the fatui, easily disposing of the camps with your sharp mind and quick wit.

“balladeer, my child,” the tsaritsa’s soft yet cold voice rings in the frosty air of zapolyarny palace. he loathes that he kneels, but he must do so, lest he might get his own head cut off. “be careful. this person is quite … difficult for you to beat.” the tsaritsa says airily, a fragile snowflake dancing on the iced tips of her fingers.

her cold eyes turns to his kneeling form, uncrossing her legs as she stands. scaramouche withstands the temptation to shoot a shock of electro towards the archon of cryo. the god of love steps down from her ice throne, her cold hands tilting his head up to meet her icy gaze.

“perhaps you’ll meet your love in the land of hydro, balladeer. but do not forget your mission and forsake it.”

he could almost laugh at the sheer irony of everything. standing in front of you, with surprise in both of your faces, scaramouche questions himself. did the tsaritsa know you were his soulmate.

he glances at the flowy words drawn on his wrist.

“quite brave of you to enter my dominion.”

he glances at the words written on your wrist.

“your dominion is nothing to mine.”

you meet his glowing eyes.

scaramouche thought he’d see disgust flare on your face upon realizing who your soulmate was. a fatui member, a harbinger, nonetheless. the balladeer, the sixth harbinger who served the god of cryo and whose hands are bathed in the blood of both the innocent and the sinners.

yet your lips quirked.

“so i’ve found you, my soulmate.”

your voice is airy and dangerous at the same time, eyes twinkling. he feels goosebumps rise, eyes darting to the cryo vision that rests on your hips. he could almost smile.

electro meets cryo.

“you’ve found me, my dearest soulmate.”

silence ensues, before you softly sigh and settle on the couch. crossing your arms as a gentle smile graces your lips, you motion for him to do what you did as well.

“why do you act so calm?” he couldn’t help but ask, but takes a seat instead. he doesn’t lower his guard, not even for his … soulmate. you shrug at his question, summoning an icicle and twirling at the tips of your fingers.

he thinks he can see why the tsaritsa blessed you.

“i’ve had my … suspicions.” you admitted, meeting his dark gaze head on. “after all, only someone who is on equal footing with me could utter such blasphemous words to a noble of fontaine.” a smile graces your lips.

“so, balladeer. i understand that you were sent by your god to kill me,” you muse, leaning back and willing the icicle to disappear.

“will you go through it?”

scaramouche pauses, before he tilts his head.

“should i?” he echoes your question. an infuriating smile slides on his fair face. you blink for a moment, before a calculating sheen glazes your eyes.

“you are not loyal.”

you say simply, eyes narrowed. he shrugs at your statement, leaning back. “i serve no one.” he counters, correcting your original statement. an amused smile takes over your face. “not even for the archon who saved you?” you press, but scaramouche does not take the bait. “the tsaritsa didn’t save me. i saved myself.” he says with a voice that could rival sneznhaya’s winter.

“i found you, soulmate.” scaramouche started, crossing his arms. electro touches cryo, and he is pleased to see that there is no fear in your eyes. “you found me.” you agreed.

standing up, he offers you a hand. the words on his wrist glows in response.

“so will you engulf the heavenly thrones with me or shall i dispose of you right now?”

your lips quirks.

you take his hand.

“i thought you’d never ask.”