#I refuse to draw with mouse again

[chaotic-punk-crow]

Ok so nobody asked (I did) but I'm working on a very awful (with lots of efforts since it's out of my comfort zone) drawing o Loki in that dress. But at this rate I think it will take me a while to finish it lol

[lvmimis]

cw: senku accidentally makes an aphrodisiac and fem!reader helps him out... minors dni! smut but no penetration. american colony au.

Senku rarely makes mistakes, ever, but as Gen has so often pointed out, luck is very often not on the young man’s side - in fact, luck seems to avoid him as though punishing him for refusing to leave his life up to fate. 

Minutes after he’s taken the potion that had been designated by the village doctor as an analgesic, he realizes quickly he’s made a grave one. Sweat beads on his forehead as he breathes in, the very action of drawing in a breath serving to increase the deafening drumbeat in his ears. Thump, thump, thump. The heat clouding his mind right now as he tries to remember where exactly he went wrong, what could have possibly happened to have him in fetal position, tensed up everywhere but especially in the space in between his legs.

Top shelf, to the right. A small vial stopped up with a cork.

Cork. It shouldn’t be a cork, he remembers suddenly. She had said the bottle might be hard to twist open. He must have taken something else. What else could explain the fact that all the blood coursing through his body seems to have collected to one place only, giving him the hardest erection he’s ever had in his life?

The scientist can’t claim to never have thought about sex. After all, he’s young and healthy and as curious about his body as anyone else, even if he’s not so easily persuaded by the prospect of soft round breasts or plush thighs as others, and he prides himself in knowing the basic workings of everything including that particular type of recreation. 

Now it’s all he can think about as he shivers and flushes, blood gorged cock throbbing and desperate to be touched in any way, shape or form.

He’s initially thankful that he was struck by this affliction while hiding away in the lookout tower  in the middle of the night because of its privacy and the ability to rub one or ten out and hopefully turn into a logical human once again, but once he can hear the familiar soft pad of your footsteps approaching up the stairs, he’s repetitively cursing his rotten luck under his strangled breath. 

Scrambling from his position sat in the corner, back against the wall, he quickly finds his way onto a chair, but stumbles, and when your eyes fall onto him, he’s practically face down. 

“Senku?” 

Your voice is soft as usual, not completely sure it’s him in the dim light. Moonlight illuminates part of the wide room, and when he finally rolls over to a cross-legged position, doing his best to hide the embarrassing bump in his clothes, you look at him quizzically.

“Fancy meeting you here!” Senku exclaims. There’s an uncharacteristic upturn to his voice that is a cause for concern.

“You mean, in the tower you supposedly made for me?” you ask. Senku pales, but you’re already sliding down to sit cross-legged next to him. 

“Are you doing okay?” you ask. Leaning over to press a hand to his forehead, you frown at the dampness, while a shudder passes through Senku’s entire body the moment the back of your hand grazes him.

“I’m fine,” he says, coughing to cover up the strain in his voice. His body language is slightly turned away, and so is his face, because he can’t look at you, not like this. Desire pools in his chest heavily, so thick he can barely breathe, and your sweet voice is like water dripping onto an already overfilled cup.

“You don’t sound fine,” you muse. You think of yourself just weeks ago insisting on being left alone despite a raging pneumonia, and move in closer, a move that has him retreat like a trapped mouse. “Did you take the medicine for your headache like you were supposed to?”

Senku would roll his eyes if it weren’t for the fact that an accidental brush of your hand against his could make them roll into the back of his head.

“Your friend might be a quack,” he says, but then quickly adds in fairness, “...the truth is I think I might have picked up something I wasn’t supposed to.”

He laughs, and then feels his cock jump and scrambles to his feet to stand further away. You’re troubled by his anxiety and his refusal to look you in the eye and after a few more questions about his mental and physical state, you decide you’re tired of his dodging questions.

“Senku, what the hell is going on?”

“Nothing,” he lies. He’s thinking of a way to escape without you noticing, but you’ve moved now, and are standing right in front of him, far too close, and your upset look is simply too pretty, and he looks at you almost fearfully.

“I need to go,” he says, and tries to move past you, but you immediately block his path. 

“Senku.”

It only takes one look at the knit in your eyebrows to realize he’s not going to make out of this without the truth. He’s still flushing intermittently, and can feel the tip of his dick more exquisitely than any other part of his body. It takes him a moment to decide, but eventually he realizes he can approach this embarrassing predicament in the best way he can think of.

Logically.

“Whatever I took… I think might be having aphrodisiacal effects on me.”

You blink, bright eyes wide with every bat of your lashes, and he feels the genuine pull of yearning in his loins.

“Oh.”

Senku blushes, the warmth spreading throughout his whole body this time as you finally look down then quickly avert your gaze. In a flash, he wonders for the first time how much you know about sex. Are you a virgin? When was your first time? With who? Would you do it again? With him?

The last thought he immediately banishes from his mind, telling himself that it’s likely the effects of whatever potent concoction is clouding his rationale. Not now. If ever, not this way.

“I… I can help, you know,” you offer. Your voice is quiet, gentle and steady, the same way you speak when you talk to the animals when they misbehave, when you want to reassure without controlling. “Platonically, of course,” you quickly add.

Platonically. Of course. It’s just an urge, and you understand those animalistic urges pretty well, given your breadth of experience in the natural sciences. Just a want. It wouldn’t be a crime if…

You move in close, your hand hovering over his crotch but not touching him. You then look at him, asking with your pupils, and he can swear he can feel his dilate. He nods, and you let your fingers slip beneath the layers of fabric until they reach the slightly coarse grain of his pubes. Your lips part slightly as you move slowly; he’s holding his breath but the moment your finger grazes the skin of his firm shaft, he lets out a moan, covering his mouth immediately to shut himself up.

“It’s fine,” you reassure him. He’s embarrassed, suppressing pants, but you press forward, letting your fingers close around his shaft, one by one. Grip still awkward, Senku shifts, pulling down his pants further, and you pull your lower lip before your teeth briefly before you tug smoothly for the first time. He gasps, and you press your thumb on the tip, right at the orifice of his urethra.

“Have you ever done this before?” you ask, wondering if you should have asked earlier. The small talk is meant to make it more casual, less intimate, but he’s quick to shake his head and say no, breathily.

“Not by anyone who mattered.”

Your heart flutters and you move just a bit faster. Senku moans, throwing his head back, and you keep your pace.

“Is that enough? Are you feeling good?” You slip. You mean better. You’re not trying to pleasure him, you’re trying to help him. 

“Fuck, can you… more… can you-” he stops, then bites his lip. He’s breathing heavier now, the expansion of his chest much more noticeable. He glances at you for a moment, then quickly looks away. If he were to do what he wants to do, ask you for more, press his lips onto yours, would it be using you? Is he allowed to ask that of you? Is it just this… or something else?

Your hand has stopped but he’s whining now, bucking his hips into the base of your fist almost subconsciously. You grip tighter, then slide up and down his shaft again, pressing against the darkened tip more, now slippery with treacherous precum. It occurs to you for a moment that maybe, maybe just a bit more friction would help, and you take the initiative of spitting on your hand, then resuming and he moans, fingers pressed to the floor beside him tensing and tightening as he accepts your onslaught.

Straggled groans escaping his throat, his eyes close, and you watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows spit and desire. He’s thirsty, needy, unsure if this is making it better or worse.

And just at that moment, you ask, “Are you feeling better, Senku?”

Oh, the way you say his name, he practically spills into your hand. 

“D-don’t talk…” he begs, and your face flinches with hurt, but you remember that you are only helping.

“Mm.”

Your hand keeps moving, and you watch his cock throb and twitch in its grasp. It’s a pretty thing, you let yourself consider for a moment, pretty like the rest of him, eager, greedy… it has been a while, you think, since you’ve been so intimate with someone.

Not intimate. That’s not what this is. You’re helping a friend.

Senku grits his teeth as you spit on your hand again and your moistened palm swirls around his cock. 

There’s no reason for you to be so good at touching him like this. He exhales.

“I’d be a real piece of shit if I asked you for more, wouldn’t I right now?” he finally asks. He’s looking at the ceiling now, trying to contain himself, but how can he when you’re touching him like this and he feels better than he’s ever felt in his life. He’s only mildly coherent at this point, perhaps he should count backwards, perhaps…

“Tell me what you want, Senku, I’ll do my best.”

He turns, and you look at him in just that moment, but you don’t let go of him. 

His hand goes to the back of your neck, pulling you closer and he stops quickly, inches apart. 

You’ve closed your eyes, and you’ve puckered your lips just so. Senku swallows hard, wondering how he could have ever stopped but he knows why.

“It’s not the drugs,” he’s able to eke out. Your eyes open, gentle as they look into his, your lips still parted. Your hand shifts, palm rested on the edge of his warm length. 

“It’s not the drugs,” you repeat.

“I’d feel like this anyway, in this moment,” Senku says. A moment passes. Your tongues passes over your dry lips.

“Do you mean it?” 

Senku doesn’t hesitate, before saying yes.

You press your lips to his first, letting him press his way in and explore, letting him bite your lip and suck, and pass his tongue against your teeth, letting him tip your neck backwards and deepen the kiss. You kiss, and you move your hands and your lips part, and you dip lower, to make him feel pleasure like he’s never seen.

[leyavo]

| I am my father's daughter | 2 |

💖 Dad!Price & Daughter!reader

PART TWO: Agreeing to let Toff check you over, you make the decision of whether not you want to stay with your dad or just take off, which would be so much easier.

[18+] MDNI | TW: Hurt/angst/mentions of abuse/comfort/ complicated father-daughter relationship/some TF141 too.

🔈Readers view of John is different, he’s come and gone in her life etc so she thinks he’s not that great. So don’t send me hate

[Part one] [Series masterlist] 3026words

Toff lived up to her nickname, no letters dropped at the end of her words like the team your dad had around him. No she was posh, well spoken and had the accent of someone that came from old money.

The gold designer watch on her wrist and the rock of an engagement ring, also telling enough. Her fingers prodded the yellowing bruise on your rib cage, the rock dazzling under the light, blinding you each time she moved.

She doesn't fit in, too put together compared to the likes of your father. He's still wearing some sort of hat, whether its the ridiculous army bucket hat or a snug knitted fisherman one, if he's not it's stuffed in his back pocket. You're convinced he's still got the same Levi jeans, a few added scrapes and as he says, they wear well. There's an array of plaid and flannel shirts in varying colours hanging in his wardrobe, like another uniform he wears on his downtime instead of his camo gear.

Your dad had slipped that she went to some prestigious medical school before working in the military. Not that it mattered it to you, you'd see a vet if it meant they wouldn't talk to your dad.

Thankfully she made your dad wait in the hall, her office door shut as she assessed you. If you got this over with, you could leave and not have to speak of it ever again. You could just imagine him pacing the hallway, halting to greet the soldiers calling him captain and then resuming his pacing.

Being the Captain’s daughter also meant you had a shared family health plan with him. One you’d never heard of before. He did use to remind you to go for dental and medical check ups, but moving around when you were younger made it difficult. Your mother reluctant to fill out forms to sign you up to a new doctor’s surgery because she wasn’t sure if the new home was long term. Shocker, they never were.

"You won't, uh tell my dad?" You asked as you rolled the layers of clothing back down.

Toff tipped your chin up with her finger, "all patient records are confidential, even if your dad's Captain Price." She pushed her chair back wheeling it to the desk and picking up a pair of tweezers, sliding back to you.

She peered over her thick framed glasses at you, turning your face side to side inspecting the gash above your brow. The metal of the tweezer cool against your skin, she prodded the tape drawing back with a nod of satisfaction.

"Soap patched you up well," Toff said handing you a plastic cup of water and some painkillers.

"Sorry, what," you blurted out, choking on the water.

Humming Toff nodded, "he's good with light touch, probably why your dad got him to fix you up whilst you were out cold." She managed to get hold of some of your medical records, which she requested last night. No doubt your dad had called as soon as you fell asleep in the car and asked her for a favour.

You muttered a string of curse words under your breath, did the whole bloody army base know what happened last night? Toff was too busy reading your record, brows scrunching as she double clicked the mouse.

"You broke your wrist six years ago, but never had surgery," she said, turning the computer screen for you to see the x-ray. "The follow up on here, shows your bone moved during it was in a cast, but your guardian refused surgery." Her pen circling the area of the screen for you.

"We were moving and it felt fine," you shrugged, looking down at your wrist. You wondered if your dad knew about that one.

"Does it bother you now?" Toff said, returning to you and picking up your right wrist, pushing your sleeve up. "Huh, there's a lump there, does that hurt? Any regular pain? Does it restrict you from doing certain things, this is your dominant hand?" Her hazel eyes snapped up to yours as you snatched your wrist back and shoved the sleeve back down.

All of her questions spun around in your head, you hadn't even thought about the pain when there was other things to worry about.

Toff stood from her chair, palms raised as if you were going to bolt out of the room, you wanted to.

"Sorry, didn't mean to pry. Is that all you need me to take a look at?"

"Yes, thanks,” you snapped, flinging your hoody back on and zipping it up.

You're ready to bid your dad goodbye and never look back, but as you swung the door open you crashed into the back of someone else.

Soap's light touch kept you upright, you're trying not to think of him patching you up whilst you slept. The thought alone making you feel pathetic, small in his presence. Like you can't even look after yourself.

“Captain got called in,” Soap said, as if that’s supposed to mean anything to you. You’re used to him coming and going, more focused on his job than you.

More interested in his team, how he so easily referred to Soap as son. You haven’t even been there for a day and he’s found another family, leaving you to feel like a spare part. You want to hate Soap, but you don’t know him. Don’t know your dad the way they do.

The walls began to press in and you took off down the narrow corridor, your sight on the world outside. You needed fresh air, needed to catch your breath and not fall apart in front of Soap.

"Hey, woah," Soap called after you, his boots stomping as he tried to catch up. "dammit slow down would ya, like a fuckin’ greyhound."

You forced the door open with a bit too much force and they slammed against the stairs railing as you rushed down the steps.

"I am not a dog!" You spun around, jabbing his chest with your finger. The cool air swept your hair across your face, drawing a deep breath from you. You watched Soap's chest rise and fall as if he was coaching your breathing.

He tucked the curtain of hair shielding your eyes behind your ear, "feel better now?"

“I’d feel a whole lot better if you signed me out right now.” You raised your brow, wincing at the tape pulling it tight.

Soap shook his head, falling into step beside you. He waved, signalling for the guard to let you both through the gate back into the residential area “Your dad’s a good man, why don’t you give him a chance?”

“Because I’m not a soldier, he had his chance six years ago.” The three years he didn’t reach out, didn’t bother checking in on you. Only to find out he had another kid, another family.

You didn’t miss the tic of his jaw or the gulp he took. All the little signs you looked for when you said the wrong thing, you were good at noticing the change in people. Knew how even the nicest ones could change like a flick of a switch.

Soap leant down, face close to yours that you could feel his hot breath fanning the curve of your nose. “Look, if you’re only here to piss off your dad, I’ll sign you out right now. Hell I’ll even take the blame for you leaving, just don’t go asking him about six years ago.”

“Got it,” you said, voice low but good enough for him to hear. The tension in your body kept you in place, breath trembling as he backed off and started walking ahead.

You trailed after him, keeping your distance incase he turned around again. The beating of your heart drummed against your chest, palms sweating as you balled them up inside your pockets.

Why were you so pathetic when confronted? You could just hear your dad’s voice in the back of your head telling you to knee him in the groin. Take up some space so they can’t take all of yours.

Space, exactly what you needed after being stuck in house with a team of men. You slipped through the front door, not glancing at Soap as you rushed to the safety of your dad’s room.

Shutting the door, you pressed your back against the wood panel. The lock sliding into place, your body slumping to the floor and arms wrapping around your legs as you brought them into your chest.

Your small area of safety calming you. After a moment of silence, you picked yourself up and climbed under the duvet. The memory foam mattress too hard on your back that you flipped over on your stomach, closing your eyes.

-

The constant buzzing of your phone drew you out of your sleep, your eyes heavy as you squinted at the window. You don't know why your dad opened the blinds, the sun making it harder for you to focus. His half of the bed smooth and tucked underneath the mattress, not a crease in sight till you tugged the duvet.

Numb tingles danced across your upper back, you groaned into your pillow and attempted to roll your shoulder. Searing pain stopping you before you could rise from the bed.

Eying the alarm clock, you stumbled out of the room and down the hallway to the bathroom. You're glad the others are training this afternoon and you can sort this out yourself. It can't be that bad.

You pulled your hoody over your head, wincing at the pull of your arm stretching the skin across your shoulder blade.

Peering over your shoulder, you looked at your reflection in the mirror and your fingers pressing into the red skin. A weeping wound oozed yellow pus just right of your back below your neck. You'd forgotten about the graze, too distracted by Toff questioning your broken wrist.

You added a little more pressure and clutched the edge of the sink, black dots lining your vision. You heard the thud before you felt your body fall to the floor.

Sweat ran down your forehead, the cool tiles beneath you a welcome addition against the heat of your skin. Since when were you so hot? your breaths quickened as you tried to focus on your phone across the bathroom. Your hand aching to reach for it.

Maybe if you just rested for a little.

John couldn't wait to sit outside and have a cigar. The day had knocked him, your call in the early hours of the morning throwing him off track and his duties as a captain, a father. He hated how he got called away whilst he waited for Toff to check you over, hoping to catch you before you went on another stroll around the base to get away from his questioning.

He pulled his boots off and added them to the shoes lined up by the door, the living room and kitchen were clear. The mumbled tones of his teammates drew his attention to the hallway. He dragged a hand down his face, hoping he wouldn't have to readjust yet another bathroom schedule.

John joined the guys huddled by the closed bathroom door, looking around Soap for a clue of what the hell they were doing. "I mean we could shimmy the door open, pop it out of the frame with a bit of force," Ghost said, his calloused hand tracing the wood.

They’re all covered in sweat from their training session. Thinking they’d revert back to their bathroom schedules like normal, but they’re locked out. Only the new recruits use the communal showers.

"I don't think kickin’ the door in, is gonna make the lass feel safe." Soap said, arm shooting across the guys before they could move. The warped door's been wreaking havoc since they were assigned the house, but they haven't been bothered about taking it off and shaving it down or replacing the temperamental lock. That or wait on the long list of maintenance services.

“What the hell are you boneheads going on about?” John grumbled, their heads snapping towards him as they finally realised he was there. He glanced to the lock picking device in Ghost’s hand and the dagger wedged into the crack of the door.

“The doors locked, she was talking a second ago…” Gaz winced as the captain’s fist banged against the door shaking the whole wall.

John held his hand over his shoulder silencing them all behind him, his head titling as he tried to listen for any movement. Another knock on the door, "hey kiddo, you alright in there? If you can hear me give me something, anything."

A light tap bounced back, the tension in the captains shoulders easing at the sound.

"Can't kick the door in, there ain’t enough room in there for it to fall. Could hurt her," Gaz said, he yanked the dagger out of the door and shoved it back into Soap's hand.

"Could take the window out and go in that way." Ghost added, as if they were planning to scale a building and ambush a rogue team.

Their mumbled voices merged together in the cramped hallway.

"Window it is."

Gaz volunteered to climb through the second floor window and break the lock from the inside. John holding his breath as he waited on the other side, his chest stung at the sight of you in Gaz's arms. The ringing in his ear and the hands pushing him forwards kept him in tow behind Gaz. You were so pale, words slurred and hand dropping over his arm like a dead weight.

John was no stranger to the infirmary, he'd been sat either at someone's bedside or the unconscious one receiving aid. What he wasn't used to though, was his daughter strung up with an IV and sleeping off the medication Toff had given her.

Nurses flitted back and forth from the bed, herding John to the side as they assessed you. Gaz and Soap had gone back to the house to sleep, Ghost fixed the door and the lock and stopped by to give the captain a strong flask of coffee leaving straight after.

The constant questions, ones he didn't know since he'd never been asked before. How could he not know if you were allergic to anything or if there were any underlying health issues? It hadn't even been two days since you'd come back into his life and he didn't know you at all.

Hours had passed since Gaz had carried you through the house and to the infirmary. Your skin pale and clammy, hair sticking to your forehead. He'd never seen you like that, lost for words as he trailed after them.

The marks of another man's grasp circled your bicep, green bruise fading, but visible as you laid in the bed. John thought the split lip and gashes on your head and brow were bad, the wound on your back much worse. Couldn't understand how you carried the pain so well, as if you'd mastered putting up with it. That scared him.

He nodded to the nurse as she finished her shift, the clipboard at the end of your bed falling to the floor. He picked it up flicking through the pages and shuffling them back into the file. His hands hesitating as he read your name, Marston not Price. Was he that detached from your life that you'd dropped his last name? He'd even put his surname for you when he'd signed you into the base and you hadn't said anything when you looked at the visitor pass.

A hand smoothed across his back, chair scraping along the floor beside him. “Lucky girl, Cap. Mild case of sepsis, good that you caught on to it early and brought her in," Toff said, she leant her elbows on her knees and ducked her head to catch John's gaze.

He couldn't glance at her though, his gaze on his hand on top of yours. "You were supposed to check her over," he snarled, more angry at himself for not paying enough attention than at Toff.

"She didn't show me the wound on her back, just some bruising and the marks on her face that were visible. If I'd have known John..." Her words cut off by John's hand patting her knee.

"How she looking?"

"You caught it in the early stages, could be a few days or a week or more. She'll need to be monitored here and make sure the infection has gone. A wound like that though with the placement, would have made it difficult for her to tend to herself." Toff flicked through the medical chart, eyes flitting to the heart monitor as she walked around the bed.

John didn't want to think about you alone, isolated from people that could help and care for you. How you lacked a family and friends to lean on during those times. His mind consumed with finding whoever did this to you. Ghost had already asked him if he wanted him to look into it.

Toff hooked up another bag of IV, silently bidding him goodbye and returning to her office over the other side of the infirmary. Door ajar incase she was needed.

A twitch of your finger tapped against John's, followed by the hurried beat of the heart monitor. You whimpered in to the pillow, rapid movement fluttering under your eyelids.

“You’re okay, kid. Just relax, your old man’s right here,” he said, adjusting your pillow and smoothing your hair out of the way.

“Captain,” you slurred, lazy smile tugging your lips. You struggled to keep your eyes open, but you clutched his pointer finger like you used to as a kid.

You’d called him Captain as a kid, your mother’s doing as she used to tell you stories about daddy becoming one, one day. Playing soldiers whenever he came home and he’d always let you be the captain, your little voice commanding him to play.

"I've got you kid, you're safe."

[PART THREE]

- thank you for all your lovely comments on the first part!! :) more parts to come soon! Hope you liked it - Leya

[thehatboxwitch]

anaxagoras yandere profile. gender neutral, TW // nsfw mentions, yandere. credits once again to cinnamonest. :)

What is he generally like? Is he self-aware, lucid, or obsessive? How does he behave?

Anaxa has the inherent desire to understand, and through that, conquer. It's the reason why he refuses to acknowledge gods as a power greater than himself, and why he believes strongly that the flame-chase is an unnecessary endeavour.

In that vein, he spirals into a sort of delusional, worshipping, yet condescending attitude towards you. He treats you like... a god in his grasp that he can control and own. We know he's obsessive through and through, and he can be blindsided by his own stubbornness and insistence on being right. (Granted, he usually is, which doesn't help your case.)

He's not quite lucid like Phainon or Mydeimos would be - he acts in his own way, and treats you as some sort of experiment. If you end up loving him back, that's the preferred outcome, but hating him is just an obstacle to him. Anaxa is convinced he would have some way to warm you up to him, just another problem to be solved.

How do you meet him?

I imagine the situation to be something domestic and peaceful - maybe you encounter him in the market and strike up friendly conversation. Anaxa is fascinated by the attitudes of the people of Okhema towards life, their ability to carry on with their grocery shopping and gossips like the world is no bigger than they perceive it. You’re bright but not terribly so, just enough to meet him with an open mind and polite curiosity.

He'd like someone sharp enough to bounce off (dull knives bore him terribly), but not really someone sassier or more troublesome than himself. He likes the feeling of being relied on as well, and having someone to come home to after galivanting about and setting Aglaea's temper off.

How likely will he kidnap his darling?

8.5/10 - it does seem quite likely. Be it in his personal home or in the Grove, Anaxa would want to keep you somewhere where he could monitor you at all times, like mould in a petri dish of his making. If he doesn’t kidnap you, be prepared to have people breathing down your neck at all time; students from the Grove, guards, even Anaxa himself. But it’d be easier for him to simply sweep you up and take you wherever he’s going next.

How difficult is it to escape from him? How does he restrain his darling? How does he deal with attempted escape?

If Anaxa doesn’t presently need you for anything, he doesn’t really care if you’re wandering elsewhere in the house trying to avoid him. He has traps and mazes set up to confuse you and keep you occupied, and when you think you've gotten out, you realise you've just been turning in his palm all along. Difficulty 10/10 - he knows you better than you know yourself.

Attempted escape is just another something he takes in stride. Your penchant for trying to get out all the time is something he encourages to an extent. He nudges you in the direction of little clues, like letting slip that a window is unlocked somewhere, then amuses himself watching you scurry around, straining your mind to work out his puzzles like watching a mouse solve a scientist's maze.

Usually 'punishment' is something of an NSFW nature. It's more of a reward for him, really.

How easy is it to trick, deceive, or manipulate him?

0/10. It's not easy, and Anaxa would never let you even think that you've led him on. It doesn't play to his ego. There's no trickery, deception, or manipulation that he lets slide. This is where he draws the line - lies are a big negative for him, and if you want to piss him off, this is probably how to do it. But I wouldn't recommend it. Anaxa has a fearsome temper.

What kind of punishments would he use?

Anaxa's punishments range from evil (academic) to evil (physical). If he so desires, he sticks you with painstakingly sorting through a stack of papers, arranged by year, in alphabetical order. Tiring, mundane tasks like that. It frustrates you so badly to tears that you often think twice before going against him again.

Evil (physical) punishments would be NSFW. He doesn't really mean for them to be punishments more than he means them to be a reward for himself. He'll deny you pleasure, have you serve him until your jaw aches, leave bites and bruises until you're red and raw. He likes the power that he has over you, and he likes knowing that your body can be manipulated to betray you.

How does he deal with rivals, or perceived rivals?

He doesn't quite perceive people as rivals, but rather nuisances that are getting in his way. Be it a brother who's sniffing around too close to the truth, or a colleague who wants to have a meal with you one time too many, they're all the same to Anaxa. Just another obstacle to be overcome.

He's an efficient individual. He can't really be bothered with the patience of having to manipulate and work someone out of your life, so if they disappear, it's likely that they're dead. Anaxa would never trust anyone other than himself with such an important task, so you can trust that he'd be the one with blood on his hands.

How easy is it to make him mad? What does his anger look like?

Fairly easy, if you know where to hit where it hurts, but it also depends on his mood. Sometimes Anaxa finds it amusing how hard you're trying to rile him up, and he plays your game, deflecting and working you into a corner until you have nowhere to go and have to admit defeat. Other times if he's had a long day, he doesn't quite have the patience to play mind games. You'll quickly find yourself pinned down and silenced that way.

Does he see you as above, beneath, or equal to him?

Beneath him, absolutely. He doesn't believe in gods. What do you think?

How determined is he for you to love him, or is he content just having you?

Anaxa isn't really that determined, honestly. He's here to play the long game, not really to win - if either of you die and you've never loved him, so be it. Some projects are simply destined to end in failure.

That's not to say that he won't try, of course. The fun is in the journey!

General perverseness: How sexual is he? What's his drive like? Touchy?

It's not quite about the pleasure for him, but the power. Like I mentioned earlier, he likes knowing that he's able to manipulate your body and have it betray you - which to him is the ultimate, most intimate betrayal.

He's not against all the pleasure of it all, of course. If he so wished, Anaxa might get turned on by just seeing a sliver of your skin or you could be grinding against him with zero reaction. He treats touch as more of a tool, rather than finding comfort in it i.e. holding you close, restraining you, guiding you through whatever pleasure he wants (or doesn't want) you to experience that day.

What body parts of his darling does he like the most?

Waist. He likes holding you around it (even if you're bigger), tucking you into his side and very much unable to get away. Or he holds you as he guides you up and down as you ride him.

What is it with him and power? Poor thing.

[nopecho]

LI Book Headcanons

I've had this thought in my mind all day and NEED to get it out there.

(content warning: mentions of JK Rowling. Not to worry, it's bad mouthing her.)

Eden: his favourite damn series is Lord of the Rings. My man started with The Hobbit, then dived into Lotr. He's read EVERY. SINGLE. Elf song that the book has to offer. He's a fantasy nerd. However I would also see him read Pride and Prejudice. Perhaps some Terry Pratchett, too.

Avery: she grew up reading her parent's notes and bank account details. HOWEVER she's also read 50 Shades of Gray, and gave her the idea in mind that if she has enough money, she can acquire any lover she wants. REFUSES to acknowledge that it's Twilight fanfiction.

Kylar: speaking of Twilight, he is a FANATIC. adores the idea of being the misterious vampire, that attracts Bella in his unusual charm. He's read every book. And I mean every book, he's read the genderbent version, the Edward POV, anything written by Meyer he's read. He was neither team Jacob or Edward, he was team Kylar. Drew his self insert vampire oc with Bella NUMEROUS times.

Robin: he used to be a Potterhead. He was SO into it. Identified as a Hufflepuff, did the patronus and wand quizzes, his favourite book is the first one. He was in SHACKLES when JK Rowling came out as a gross terf. The level of betrayal he felt is indescribable. He woved to never touch the books again.

Sydney: do you know those books Christian oarents give to kids to let them know about Jesus early? Yeah, Sidney's read them. However, when she got freedom to grab her own books, she discovered that she DIGS Greek Mythology. She has a whole collection of Rick Riordan's books on the shelf, has attempted to draw her favourite characters. The movies don't exist to her and whenever anyone brings them up, she death stares them.

Alex: you know the Grimm fairy tales? Those are his favourites. Just the dark forest themes, the magic, the horror aspect of it... It just works for him. He's lived his whole life in the countryside, so he can fantasize about getting lost in the woods and finding a gingerbread house.

Whitney. I saved the best for last. So in hus childhood, in my headcanon he could never really afford to buy books, let alone his parents giving them to him. He read a bit of Dr Seuss but that was it. NOW that he can actually afford some stuff, he discovered the duality of man. Comics.

On one hand, he absolutely LOVES thise cute, kid friendly comics. Peanuts, Garfield, the Disney Mickey Mouse comics. On the other, he absolutely digs the over-the-top action manga shit. I'm talking Chainsaw Man, DevilMan by Go Nagai, Hells Angels by Shinichi Hiromoto. He doesn't have enough attention span to read a whole book, but he absolutely LOVES comics.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk!

[middle-earth-marauder]

Momento Mori Sketch dump #1 Posting this despite not totally finishing it because the designs are slightly out of date with how I draw these guys generally now, but still close enough to their appearances in this AU I wanted to post this anyway. Lore under the cut if you're interested!

The story in this AU gets a little dark, so warning for going ahead! Essentially, Eggman recreated a device similar in power-scope to the one that gave rise to Sonic's werehog form; a Chaos canon modeled after the Eclipse Canon to be used for domination. Sonic and co. fought to stop him from ever using the weapon, but were too late.

In a last ditch attempt at saving the world from total destruction, Sonic threw himself at the canon as it was fire. Its blast hit him square and overwhelmed him with negative Chaos energy, inducing a permanently Dark state. Fallout from the blast settled over the entire planet, leading to a Chaos-version of a nuclear apocalypse, irradiating everything. Survivors are forced underground to escape the radiation in hastily constructed bunkers.

Team Sonic + Dark (- Sonic, himself) are also left with the task of trying to bring Dark Sonic down from the rampage he's begun enacting on those desperate enough to venture to the surface for resources. At this point, Even Eggman joins the heroes, realizing he's gone too far- he didn't mean to destroy the world, after all, he can't rule what's broken beyond repair.

Dark Sonic runs off pure primal instinct; rage, hunger, and a violent streak a mile long. There is none of Sonic's mercy in him, no kindness. He kills for pleasure, for sport, for entertainment, and he loves it.

Its a battle between the heroes (+ Eggman) and Dark Sonic where the final line is crossed, the thing that makes the heroes realize... Sonic is gone. Whatever this thing before them is, it isn't their friend they once knew. There is none of him left.

Dark kills Eggman. No, he slaughters him, horrifically. Like a cat catching a mouse, only to play with it as it kills it slowly, dragging out its agony in death. The horror of his former friends and allies only drives Dark to show off even more, raising up Eggman's body, lifting it high into the air for the world to see in some macabre puppeteering, just because he can. Because who can stop him?

There is one. Shadow does not suffer the negative effects of the radiation. He can go to the surface uncovered and spend much longer there than most. He knows it'll have to be him, who takes Dark down, in the end. Even if it kills him, too (and at this point, since he and Sonic were very much in love before the world up and ended and Sonic lost himself to dark chaos, Shadow prefers he die with his lover, too). He confronts Dark, alone.

The radiation does affect Shadow, to a degree. It has given him new powers. Namely, a control over the Chaos energy innate to all living things on Mobius, and through that energy, power over souls. He can manipulate this energy (souls themselves), can tear them from the body, if he wants. Turn the being into a husk, or let the body die. He's been practicing in secret on the rats and mice that come into the bunker, because he has a plan, one he knows the others would never let him go through with.

He's going to kill Dark. Then he's going to resurrect Sonic, through his new powers and through his own medical knowledge.

Thus some of the scenes in that old ass sketch dump up there. Shadow succeeds, faking his own death in the process, and takes Sonic's body with him into an abandoned city where they hide out in an old building. Shadow turns the basement into a lab, and its here he resurrects Sonic, implanting a totem in his heart infused with Shadow's own Chaos energy to give Sonic's soul something to bind to, since he is technically dead. Sonic is raised, and he is now Sonic again, or as Sonic as he can be at least. He has all of Dark's memories, though, so as you can imagine, he's a bit fucked up for a time.

He also refuses to return to the other heroes because he remembers the looks of horror on their faces at what Dark did, what he did, and Shadow agrees they need to lie low for a bit longer because he's convinced the others won't understand why he's done what he's done.

(Shadow also isn't doing well at this point, driven near damn mad by grief and also extreme levels of guilt at the implication of his new powers... and guilt at the fact he selfishly chose to use them to drag Sonic back into the world of the living, hellish as it is now. Sonic, importantly, doesn't blame him for this.)

There is loose plot with Metal seeking to exact revenge on the heroes for Eggman's gruesome death, and building up an army to attack. There some other stuff too, with reunions and the others reactions and the consequences of what Shadow's done, but eh this has gotten long enough for now lol

[karaageandtarts]

uuuggh this was so hard to narrow down to just 3 but 🌠🌪️🙊 for corwin? (*´▽｀)v🫖

aaand 📣 for as many ocs u want (mostly curious abt voice claims)

Corwinnnn my mouse my lovely.. blinks slowly

🌠 SHOOTING STAR - if they could make any wish with no repercussions, what wish would they make?

Uhmmm ehmmmm a redo. a start over 💖

🌪️ TORNADO - what is the biggest change you've ever made to them? how have they changed from their original version?

He hasn't changed much !! In the beginning he used to have a ponytail to mimic a mouse tail, but I decided that it wasn't necessary and I simply didn't like drawing it. I just have a really really bad habit of chopping my ocs hair lol.

He used to have bangs that mirrored Riddle's+little "swirls".

🙊 SPEAK-NO-EVIL - what is something your oc will refuse to stay quiet about?

Corwin the king of staying quiet about everything.. but people's volume. It's usually just a gentle poke or comment, but the closer he is to someone, the more blunt he gets lol. Sometimes he just finds certain voices grating I fear.. but he'll keep THAT to himself.

📣 MEGAPHONE - how loud are they? what do they speak like? got a voice claim?

I'm not very good at voice claims... Corwin doesn't like to repeat himself, so he does his best to speak clearly, but his voice still borders on mumbling. Maybe close to Epel's voice, but in a lower pitch.

Vinny sounds like Riddle more than he does Azul ⭐️ especially like an excited Riddle, but that might just be Natsuki Hanae haunting the narrative again

[thestoryden]

Aemond Drabble Enjoy!

Your throw open the silk curtains with your laundry basket on your waist. A man sat on the bed still in a cloak and trousers. Boots and a sword at his side.

“I’m so sorry mi lord. I thought that this room was clear, I was told to clean it.” You stumble over your words.

He sighs, “It is I am just getting dressed.”

“I am sorry, I shall leave you.” You apologize.

“Wait.” He commands.

He turns towards you. Revealing a blue rock that glints where and eye should be and a river of silvery hair flows forth from his hood. You drop your basket to the floor.

“My prince, I had no idea, please spare me.” You hang your head.

“It is of no consequence.” He says as he slips in to his boots, “as long as you come with me.”

“Please mi prince, I am not a whore,” you panic, “I am just a serving girl.”

“I wish for company for the night,” He says, “I will buy your contract if that what is what it takes.”

You brush your dark curls out of your face as you look up, “You would buy my contract, and then what?”

“Then after tonight you wouldn’t have to see me ever again.” He replies.

“What is the catch?” You inquire.

“You must catch my brother’s eye and refuse him. Then come to me, you must make a show of it.” He smirks.

“The King then, you want me to draw myself into his sight, are you mad?”

“I am your prince watch your voice,” he warns, “You could be free for one simple job.”

You pick up your basket and have Aemond point you in the direction of his brother. You waltz over putting on the airs of the girls who work with their bodies. He is exiting the silk curtains just as you go to open them. You bump in to him and fall to the floor. You look up a convincing look of shock covering your face. You put your hand to your mouth.

“Your Grace!” You exclaim, “My apologies, I was not watching where I was walking.”

Aegon laughs, “What do we have here, a mouse in the dragon’s nest.”

Your face goes ghost white. When you thought about this in your head it seemed easy, but now, now your head was swimming with the fear of having your flesh feasted upon. You get to your feet.

“I think I will have you little mouse.” He smirks.

“My time cannot be bought twice, your grace.” You state with a shiver.

“Well, I am sure whoever it was won’t mind giving me tribute.” Aegon scoffs lightly.

You walk towards Aemond where he stands at the front counter. Your sealed contract in his hand.

“Brother,” Aegon greets him with ease.

Aemond’s blood boils after the humiliation he suffered.

“This is the man who owns my time tonight,” you say stiffly.

 “Aemond, I am sure you can bed this woman another night.” Aegon states.

“I surely can as I am the lawful owner of her contract, but you can not as she now belongs to me.” Aemond replies with a sly grin.

“That is all well and good, but I am the king. She is who I desire for this part of the evening.” He challenges.

“Does she even desire you?” Aemond laughs.

“Surely, I am the king, who would not?” Aegon says as he looks to you.

“I only desire the man who owns my time.” Your reply with a smile, “It must be willing sold for my desire to change.”

Aegon frowns, “as if in seven hells I care, you can have her Aemond. She looks boring and plain anyway.”

He turns and walks away. You finally feel the air rush in to your lungs.

You look to Aemond, “Can we get out of here before he changes his mind?”

Aemond nods and stuffs your contract into his purse and grabs your arm to lead you out. You weave through streets and alleys, before long you realize that the streets of silk are far behind you.

“Where are you taking me?” You ask.

He paused as if he hadn’t thought it out before, “I guess to the keep?”

“The castle?” You gasp, “Why we could have just rented a room?”

“I have spent enough gold tonight, and wish to be home.” Aemond whispers.

When you reach the castle your heart sinks. Huge red stone walls that surround it make it look more like a prison than anything. The prince tugs you into a side entrance and soon you find yourself lacing though corridors till you step into a lavish room. It was bigger than any house you had ever served.

Aemond removes his cloak, “larger than your room I venture?”

“I live in a stable.” The words fall out of your mouth.

Heat creeps up your face as you realize what you have just said.

Aemond grimaces, “When was the last time you had a bath?”

“Maybe two weeks ago? The girls who sell they get irritated by the smell every once and a while and scrub us down.” You look down at your shoes, “I can’t really afford it, all the money goes towards the contract.”

His face softens, “Let me care for you.”

“I couldn’t my prince.” Your protest.

“I own your contract, consider it an order.” Aemond replies smugly.

[pengtheplush]

If Brûz took part in Mordor’s conquest of Minas Ithil, I imagine him to be the type to flirt with captives. This is my take on that hypothetical scene. Critics are welcome to point out ways to improve, so with that said, enjoy!

[Scene: Dusk descends upon a ruined Gondorian outpost. The heady scent of blood hangs thick in the air. The camera pans over the aftermath of a recent skirmish, battered bodies strewn about like discarded toy soldiers. The orcs who still draw breath—the victors—limp or lounge amongst the black and crimson-painted rubble, tending to themselves and their newly acquired possessions. At the heart of the carnage stands BRÛZ THE CHOPPER —hulking, smug, and gloriously bloodstained.]

[Enter TERRA, a Gondorian scout: clothes caked in dirt and dried leaves, disheveled but none too worse for wear. She strides in with as much dignity as the two Uruks corralling her on either side allow. She’d just been captured before the battle but isn’t acting much like a prisoner.]

BRÛZ (grinning wide as he turns to her): “Well now, look wot we’ve got ‘ere! A little mouse sniffin’ round my grounds. You lost, luv?”

[The keeper on her right lets out a gravely cackle while the other on her left grips her shoulder like a vice. Terra ignores them both in favor of observing the towering figure before her, the first Olog she’s ever seen up-close.]

TERRA (raising an eyebrow; his ‘grounds’ belonged to her kinsmen not 2 hours ago): "Depends. Is this the part where you bash my skull in, or the part where you make some crass joke about my ‘brittle tark bones’ first?"

BRÛZ (chuckling deeply): “Heh! Got bite, this one. I like that. Most tarks either squeal or faint when they see ol’ Brûz. But you? You look like you’re almost enjoyin’ the view.”

TERRA (eyeing him up and down, reluctantly amused): "You're not entirely unpleasant to look at, that is if one's into massive, mace-wielding murder machines."

BRÛZ (stepping closer, voice dropping to a sly rumble): “Careful now, you keep talkin’ sweet like that, and I might think you’re flirtin’. Which’d be very dangerous for a… slight lass like yourself.”

TERRA (tilting her head curiously, trying not to smile): "Is that so? I thought orcs didn’t have much use for… charm."

BRÛZ (grinning wider, revealing a pair of sharp, white canines): “Oh, we mostly don’t. But I’m a rare breed. I chop heads off by dusk, woo trespassin’ bewdies till dawn. Balance, innit?”

[He circles her slowly, casually, as if it wasn’t the blood of her kin he was treading over. Terra doesn’t flinch. Instead, she watches him, equal parts wary and intrigued.]

TERRA (playfully sarcastic): "You are surprisingly well-spoken for someone who got intentionally mauled by a caragor just to try and win a drinking contest."

[Brûz’s stride halts for a moment, surprised yet refusing to let it show. So, the little mouse knew a thing or two. It would seem his moves to cut off Minas Ithil from the rest of Gondor hadn’t truly gone unnoticed, nothing their pitiful defense would have lead him to believe. Despite the offense, he had to give her some credit. He couldn’t be too mad since he does love an audience after all.]

BRÛZ (chuckling again, but with a darker undertone that makes Terra shiver —almost imperceptible beneath his gaze): “Won that contest, thank you very much. And I’ve got the marks to prove it.”

[Beat. There’s a long pause as they lock eyes, a strange kind of tension fills the space between them, like a primed bow string. Terra finally breaks it.]

TERRA (exhales sharply, feeling heat beginning to rise in her cheeks): “This is ridiculous. I should be planning my escape. Or stabbing you. But instead, I’m just… standing here, wondering what you'd be like if you weren't an enemy."

BRÛZ (leaning in close, his breath hot against Terra’s upturned face): “Oh, don’t let a lil' thing like war get in the way, darlin’. I always say: ‘Chop first, chat later.’ But for you? I could... rearrange the order.”

[Brûz graces her with a disarmingly lazy smirk, and for a moment, Terra is visibly blushing —which she immediately curses herself for.]

TERRA (turning away with a huff): "This is insane! You're unbelievable."

[Brûz waves his hand to signal she be taken to what are to be his new quarters for the foreseeable future.]

BRÛZ (calling after her as she’s escorted away): “Sure, but you like that, don’t ya?”

[The camera lingers on Terra’s flushed face as she’s escorted away. Her flustered expression hardens… but there’s a definite, undeniable grin tugging at her lips’ ends. Although this battle has died, it would seem something else stirs within the ashes…]

[Fade to black.]

[dark-and-kawaii]

HA Fiend here with that that gift for you and guccitrashbags! I wrote a prequel to your first soft Haarlep that spun off into the delightful series it is now. A part 0, if you will. 🤭

This was hardly the first time Haarlep had seen her ill at ease. After all, Tav was a mortal soul living in the Hells and the truly fearless rarely tend to last long here. Even so, Tav had always, eventually, recovered. It wasn't a brazen defiance that hardened her like infernal iron or some kind of self-confident assurance she'd prevail that kept her as steady as a stony cliff face against the battering waves of the sea - though the incubus knew she was more than capable of drawing from both. Generally, it seemed Tav drew from what could only be described as a subtle kind of stubbornness. She was less the towering oak that would resist the winds of the storm until its trunk splintered, but rather the blossom bending in those winds. For all the blossom's perceived fragility, it endured and refused to be uprooted; it would choose to adapt however it saw fit, sprouting thorns to pierce any who'd try to harm it with force, perhaps changing which direction it grew when need be, but never letting go of whatever it chose to grasp among its roots - what it chose to make a part of its foundation.

Now though, as Haarlep looked upon Tav's sleeping form, she was curling into herself, her face contorted in fear and sadness, and her whole body was shaking...

It was as if Tav was wilting and shriveling up into herself.

And that sight felt so very wrong.

Haarlep isn't sure when they had reached out - it certainly hadn't been a conscious decision - nor were they sure if it had been the tip of their claws or their tail that had brushed against her first, just that the brief featherlight touch had been enough for her to awaken with a start. For a time, Tav just stared blankly ahead, her eyes wide but seeing nothing. When she finally looked over to Haarlep, the incubus realized that they had frozen the moment she had jolted awake, as if afraid that at the slightest movement she'd scare like the 'little mouse' they so often called her - though the words had long since become more a term of endearment than the playful condescension it had started as. Before Haarlep had the chance to worry over what they must look like, what their expression might be giving away, Tav threw herself into the fiend's arms, burying her face into their chest.

After a few shaky breaths, she answered the question Haarlep had been debating how to ask, "I was back on the nautiloid again."

Ah, so that's what she had been dreaming about.

The incubus waited a beat for Tav to continue, still at a loss for what to do, but when she remained silent Haarlep brought their wings to wrap around her shaking frame. She tensed at first and Haarlep almost withdrew before they felt Tav all but completely ease against them.

Mind finally catching up with the situation at hand, Haarlep couldn't help the bemusement they felt at the whole ordeal. Tav knew better than to let herself be so openly vulnerable before a fiend, or at least she should. Eventually, though, her breathing evened out, indicating the little mouse had fallen asleep in the claws of the cat.

Or, rather a cat.

Later, when letting her relax within their embrace had almost become a norm between the two, Haarlep would wonder if maybe they should have known better, too. If they should have known that Raphael would inevitably find out. If they should have known how the master of the house would react.

*gasps* I-I don’t even know where to start, like truly I’m at a loss for words because this was literally everything!!!

Something you did that is a huge favorite of mine, personally, is the use of sensory imagery.

“Haarlep isn't sure when they had reached out it certainly hadn't been a conscious decision- nor were they sure if it had been the tip of their claws or their tail that had brushed against her first, just that the brief featherlight touch had been enough for her to awaken with a start.” <- to me, this adds so much depth to a story. Especially in this scenario since Haarlep is trying to figure things out.

The way Tav seeks comfort in Haarlep's embrace shows the trust she has in Haarlep and I can just picture their face when she buries herself into them.

Allllsoooo another thing!!! Tavs resilience, depicted not as a loud battle cry but as a quiet, enduring whisper, resonates deeply by comparing her to a "blossom bending in the winds," you evoke a sense of grace in survival and an acceptance of change as an essential part of her.

Sorry I’m kinda all over the place with complimenting your writing/gift!!!!

I love how tender yet dangerous this is because she’s still with a Fiend, but because she trusts them it comes off as a tender moment; “The little mouse had fallen alseep in the cats claws”

*chefs kiss* ( ੭ ˘ ³˘)੭‎°｡⋆♡‧₊˚

Everyone please give Ha Fiend a round of applause!!! They truly deserve it!!!

Also a big big big fan of metaphors and similes!!! Bravo *claps* you did an excellent job!!!!

I will 100% be rereading this tonight before I crash out for the night!!! Thank you so much for this lovely present!!! I’m going to cherish it!!!

And if it’s okay with you I’d like to add this on my masterlist so everyone else can enjoy it as well and know how awesome you are!!! It ties in perfectly with the story!!! Especially as a part 0!!!

I say it every time and I’m sorry if it’s getting old, but I love you and cherish you Ha Fiend. I hope the world is treating you right, because you reallllllly deserve it.

- 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒦𝒾𝓌𝒾 𝓍𝑜𝓍𝑜

[cringecannon]

ohhhh gortash would be so into branding you.

though maybe he'd find the idea of a tattoo more appealing, because he could draw out the process even longer and make it more painful. same goes for raphael.

Gortash is cruel, but I think he’d save a true brand for only the worst headaches. Biters, fighters, general nuisances. The grand majority of you? Well, a tattoo will get his point across plenty loud. He has you sat on his lap, chin resting on your shoulder. The way he holds you is clearly meant to be comforting, but it makes trying not to squirm even harder. The tattoo artist refuses to talk or look up at you. You’re sure he was paid extra. The needle scratches along your hip and your eyelids flutter closed. If you've gotten a tattoo before, you can tell the artist is incredibly heavy-handed. Outrageously so. You're sure he was paid for that too. If you've never been tattooed before you swear you can feel the needle tearing through your skin, burning and cutting all at once. It takes everything in your power not to move. You're afraid of what Gortash would do if you wasted his money. It feels like forever when the artist finally pulls away. The skin is throbbing, and you start to shake as you will your body to relax. He smiles against your cheek, his fingers skimming just outside the irritated area. Normally you detest his cold rings. Now, they're a blessing. His chest vibrates against your back as he mumbles. How pretty. Look, dear. You do, and you recognize it instantly. It's his signature stamp. The one he leaves at the bottom of every letter and on the side of every crate that shipped out his weapons. You feel sick. You feel like cattle. You feel like his death would no longer be enough to scrub the memory of him off of you. Regardless of whether you're the type to keep a stiff lip or if this revelation would be enough to bring on tears, he ignores you all the same. There. He can sleep easy now knowing if you ever get away again, everyone will know exactly who to bring you home to.

Raphael I think would also be into branding as an extreme punishment, but you’d have to be a favorite pet. One he plans on keeping for a long, long time. A tattoo would be a punishment for those he deems not as worthy. A more permanent reminder of your disobedience. He could snap his fingers, make a tattoo appear instantly. Painlessly. He won't, of course. There's no fun in that. He sits back in his chair, chin rested on his palm as he watches the ink slowly etch itself into the skin below your collarbone. A small mercy is you can squirm and writhe as you like, the ink merely appearing and disappearing as he wishes. It burns like a real needle though, sometimes worse. You don't understand how something incorporeal can go so deep. The moving he doesn't mind, the noises he does. Quiet yourself, mouse. He's trying to focus. When it's finally over he places an ornate mirror in your hand. Ink and blood drip down your skin from the infernal markings. The script is pretty, flowery, but you can't make out what it spells. If you risk asking, he laughs. That's not for you to worry about, pet. Now run along and clean yourself up. He won't have you traipsing around looking like such a mess.

[waterdeep-weavemoss]

Never By Choice

Doe sees Hope's treatment in hell and makes a choice. Mind the tags.

She could see fragments of what had happened here; Hope, faint as candle flame, engulfed by the bulk of cambion and incubus, snuffing her out. A shriek, faint as the feel of salt air off the sea, up there in the mortal plane.

Laughter, deep and close in Doe's ear as she fell to hands and knees and vomited, shaking. She stayed there, eyes squeezed shut and holding her breath, until the devil lifted her to her feet with one hand, dabbed almost tenderly at her mouth with a square of conjured silk.

'You're sick,' she croaked in disgust.

'I tried being kind, little Doe,' he said. 'Just as I am to you. I can be gentle. Or I can be... instructive.'

He circled like a wolf, looming behind her. To snuff me out. He was hard against her back and her stomach roiled, bile rising in her throat. WIthout thought in her aching skull she snatched the dagger at her hip and drove it backwards into his thigh. Raphael grunted, one clawed hand prising the weapon from his flesh.

'Fuck you. How could you do that to her?' Doe turned, feinting sideways before he could snatch her into his arms again. She sneered. 'Creatures like you with the faces of men, you want so desperately to be worshiped, to be loved, that you can't handle the agony of being seen for what you are.'

His face contorted in fury. 'You have no idea of which you speak,' he snarled. 'I offered her everything.' He stalked forward, huge and imposing, wings flaring out to block her vision. 'She refused. I offered her a place at my side, she refused. I offered her all the riches your corrupted little mortal hearts could want, and she refused!'

'So you tried breaking her instead,' she said icily, standing her ground. 'I'm not afraid of you, devil. No amount of suffering will make a difference. You think yourself an alchemist, able to transmute pain into love, but you can't.' Her lips pulled back into a feral growl and she crouched to attack.

He laughed then, mirthless, at how small she was, how little she could do to him even if she exhausted herself. 'Doe,' he tutted. 'You think you're such a special little thing. There are thousands- millions here like you. Every single one of them thought they might be the one to appeal to my 'better nature' but I have a secret, little mouse. You lose. From the moment we met, you lost it all, and now you're coming to know what that means.'

He swept her up, hand at her throat, his infernal eyes blazing with hate and lust. She dangled in his grip, face flushing as he squeezed, claws puncturing her flesh.

But she could still think.

One chance. One.

She tried to form words, and choked. He was fixed on her, burning, searing with emotion, drawing her closer. His fangs were long and sharp from here. He was going to devour her, body and soul.

Strike first, strike true, defy the odds.

With the last vestige of strength she had she snatched up her second dagger and drove it forward as he pulled her in. The tip of it cut into his skin and she pushed with all her might, sending it biting all the way to the hilt. The devil dropped her and she fell hard, crashing into the ground with a horrible crack and a yelp.

Raphael coughed, spattering boiling blood onto her bowed form. She screamed a strange curdled rasp, scrabbling backwards and dragging in lungfuls of stale hot air. He'd fallen to his knees, doublet sticky and dark.

So much blood.

There was no chance of binding him in his own chains, not here. Doe staggered upright, turned and ran.

No weapons, no hope. Get out, get out, get out.

Through the barrier, tearing through the banquet hall past the terrified debtors, his roar of rage too close behind her, the thunder of his step getting louder and louder-

'C'mon,' she gasped, the deep sting of pain washing over her, stabbing into her side, clawing at her throat, settling heavily into her legs.

The portal.

It glowed through the open doors ahead. Doe grit her teeth and grunted, pushing. Her body screamed in response, sharpness zinging up her spine and into her ribs, almost sending her stumbling.

And then her vision blazed with hellfire. It wulfed up in front of her, around her, behind her. Its unbearable heat reaching like fingers down her throat and into her eyes. She turned, and through the blur of her tears and the pressure in her head, saw Raphael walk through it, wings wide, hands outstretched with palms up, playing at mercy.

'Poor little mouse,' he purred. 'You hope to die now, I don't doubt, but I'm afraid I cannot give you that gift.'

He'd gotten to the restorative waters of the pool- was healed and whole. Doe was trapped between him and the wall of flame. He advanced, feline and dangerous.

I will be Hope. I can't be her. Please, whatever can hear me...

Nothing answered.

She had no choice. She turned her back on the devil, and hurled herself through the fire. It licked at her, ravenous with blistering kisses, its passionate red caress catching in her hair and on her clothes. Doe made herself push through it, the smack of her bare feet against the marble, the catch of claws against her back as he failed to ensnare her again. She ran, blazing and blind with smoky tears, felt the sigil's magic and pressed her raw hands to it.

'NO!' Raphael shrieked, the sound tailing off into a distant cry.

'Doe?' Gale's voice, distant to her ears, frantic. 'Hells- Halsin, Shadowheart, she needs healing now-'

She dragged herself out of the sigil circle, allowed the soothe of hands, one pair soft and small, the other large warm and calloused, to take away the blister and burn. 'Thank you,' she said weakly.

'Don't be silly,' said Shadowheart. Her face was pale with concern. 'You're stable for now, thank Selune.'

'You need rest,' said Halsin softly. 'Plenty of it. And you must never make a foolish choice like that again. The fear in my heart when you-' he turned away, voice thick with tears.

'I'm-'

'Don't you dare say you're fine,' snapped Astarion, draping his cloak around her. 'Gale, tell her.'

'We thought you'd died,' said Gale quietly, moving to her other side with his arm around her waist. 'I can't lose you, Doe. Don't you ever do that to me again.'

'I'm sorry.' Her eyes welled with tears. 'Gods, Gale, what he did, I thought-' she buried her face in his chest and sobbed. 'I- I was so s-stupid- I ju- I just-'

'I know sweet girl. I know. You're safe now. Come on. He can't hurt you. We're going to go home and you're going to rest. Okay?'

'Oh-okay. Okay. I'm safe. I'm safe.'

'I love you,' Gale murmured softly. 'I've got you. Forever, I said. And I mean it.'

Tagged:

@bluerosetarot @dansnotavampire @further-than-forever

@forget-me-maybe @poetryvampire @sasha199 @wandawillow

@boufsy @owlseeyoulaterpal @lanafofana @amorgansgal

@aryancunin @miradelletarot @marlowethebard

@crimson-and-lavender @reeseykins @medra-gonbites

@roguishcat @weaverofnetheril @galedekarioswifey @hyperfixationstation128 @12thhouse-sun

@astarryvamp @feedthepheasants @dabigstinky @dreamingofthewild @ladyofcrowsandcoffee

@femmefuck @spooky-lil-bee

[tonydaddingham]

Just whacking this out there, but I mean, much as I do think the "past exploits" comment serves as a warning about Heaven's rules/standards, and reach, and the fact that they've exposed Aziraphale's 'crimes' - sort of a 'you know what we expect from your conduct, and you've been continually stepping way out of line, and we're choosing to overlook it for now, but know that we know, and that we will know about future missteps as well, that we don't approve and could still intervene' flung out there for no immediate particular purpose, just to serve as a reminder - by and large, I find the whole restoration offer thing much more bribe than threat, and, well, frankly, personally, I'd consider a bribe of such proportions more concerning than any threat could have been, no?

hello lovely!!!💕 i think ive shared my thoughts on this in dribs and drabs over multiple posts but no harm in going over it again, fuck it-

essentially, i completely agree with you. splitting those two parts of the conversation into two, i definitely see the first part as a warning, and simultaneously an unspoken threat:

what particularly speaks to me is how the metatron hesitates over both 'previous exploits' and 'partnership', as if he's specifically searching for the right turns of phrase. trying to make light of it, keep it friendly and unassuming. but the small, smirky, private smiles, compared to aziraphale's reaction of flitting eyes and tight lips - it feels like metatron is playing a cat-and-mouse game... the guise of it being that it's all a great opportunity, but truthfully they both recognise the unspoken threat is there

(but - to clarify - i don't think the metatron realises that aziraphale has seen it as a threat. ie the metatron thinks he's being slicker than he actually is, when aziraphale is very much able to read between the lines).

i remember making the comparison in a meta somewhere but it just simply strikes me that - if we're continuing with the 'sleeper/secret agent in the height of the cold war' allegory - the metatron is playing the part of the seedy villain that is doing the 'i've been watching you all along, i know precisely what your pressure point is and why' bit that we all know and love from any kind of dramatised espionage story.

essentially, as you said, "we could still intervene" - ie. 'dont think that i haven't seen every single thing, because i have. i know how deep this 'partnership' runs'. there doesn't even need to be an allusion to what metatron could do with this breadth of knowledge - just simply that he has the knowledge is enough, and aziraphale can draw his own horrific conclusions quite easily, even if they never come to fruition.

(on an intertextual level, metatron kinda reminds me of how i'd imagine karla to be - from the john le carré novels... a little bit, idk.)

now as for the second part; the restoration thing:

i completely agree - this absolutely feels like a bribe. 'i know crowley is your pressure point, and you'll fight tooth and nail coming back without him in tow, so im going to offer it to you - this amazing opportunity that you can graciously bestow upon him! "go tell your friend the good news!"'

the metatron may well be disguising a threat in the exchange, but i do think that he believes aziraphale to have taken the offer to return to heaven at face value, in earnest, and therefore he believes that he has aziraphale squarely under his thumb (and none the wiser for it). however, i personally think aziraphale may be constructing his own hasty game - ie. using the offer as an opportunity to "make a difference" as he and crowley would see fit... but the spanner in the works was that crowley refuses to come with him to play on 'their side' in this little counter-game he's trying to devise.

in terms of functionality of bribe vs. threat - absolutely, a bribe promises a greater yield. threats only work so long as it's a) inescapable enough, b) serious enough, and c) the threatened person is sufficiently scared enough that they won't toe out of line. which may well be effective in getting someone to comply, but the problem with making people scared of you or hate you, is that then they all secretly want to see you ruined or destroyed.

bribe someone, however... give them something that they might have always wanted (or, as i think is the case for aziraphale - gives them the opportunity to give another what they've always wanted), and you have a greater chance of having an ally in them forever, someone forever indebted to you.

i definitely think this is where the metatron's reasoning lies. instead of threatening crowley's life, so to speak, he's offering him the chance essentially to defect - and that's way more appealing to aziraphale and likely to get him to fall in line.

for me though, it's all a gross underestimation of aziraphale on the metatron's part. i will die on the hill where aziraphale sees through what the metatron is saying - has indeed read between the lines where he doesn't have a choice one way or another - but chooses to play the part that the metatron expected him to play (of marginalised-angel who is actually the-very-kind-of-angel-heaven-needs, and therefore very-grateful-to-be-given-the-top-job-thank-you) so that the metatron will keep underestimating him. bribe or not, aziraphale did not want to go back to heaven... but if he doesn't have much of a choice regardless, he's going to make it work for him.

now this ask has led me to another thought: i do wonder if the restoration is actually a thing? ie. the metatron wasn't bluffing, it's actually possible.

the metatron is putting an awful lot of bank on crowley saying no, when by all accounts - even if the metatron was directly involved in crowley's fall - the metatron doesn't actually know him... right? he likely knows that crowley is resentful and angry still at having fallen, and the unfairness of the whole shebang, but does that guarantee that crowley wouldn't want to take the restoration offer? id hazard no - so the metatron has to have a failsafe for either eventuality.

either crowley says no, and aziraphale is left broken-hearted/rejected, and that suits metatron fine because then he has aziraphale ridden of crowley's influence. alternatively, crowley returns, and is restored!

...but is restored to the same position as he was when he fell - essentially like restoring a backed-up file where the last save point was ~millions of~ years ago... and that would suit metatron fine also, because then crowley is simply not crowley anymore. plausible deniability on the metatron's part too, for the latter option - 'restoration has never happened before, didn't know what to expect, but you've gotten what i promised you!' idk, interesting thought

[total-drama-brainrot]

Solo Victory Noah AU, where Noah is in Team Victory, instead of DJ... Noah later ends up becoming the final Team Victory Contestant... Alejandro keeps trying to sabotage Noah, but Noah always outsmarts all the sabotages... Noah ends up in the Final 3, with Alejandro and Heather... Owen is super-duper proud of Noah! 🏆

I've actually been toying with an AU where Noah ends up on Victory instead of CIRRRRH, watches what's happening to his team with thinly veiled annoyance, eventually grows sick and tired of sleeping in Economy (he's not at all concerned for the people he's watched be manipulated and/or his own position in the competition, why do you ask?) and manages to make it to the merge through the power of sheer spite despite being a one-man-team.

It's... not a very fleshed out idea, mind you, and I usually only ponder over it to make myself laugh at different scenarios where Alejandro is desperately trying to get Noah- the surprise one man army that no one saw coming- eliminated, and Noah managing to either outplay him at his own game or twist the circumstances to his favour in a very Looney Tunes-like fashion.

Because Alejandro would see the continued existence of Team Victory as a personal slight, so he'd put an increasing amount of time and effort into getting Noah eliminated if only to prove that he can. And Noah's just smart enough and finally motivated enough (initially by spite, turned vengeance, turned pure amusement) to spin Alejandro's schemes on their head every time. They're literally the Road Runner and Wile. E. Coyote.

It usually ends up with Team Chris or Team Amazon heading to an elimination ceremony, only for it to be a "surprise reward challenge" or something similar.

(Of course, they'd go through a "Alejandro tries to sweet talk Noah into an alliance" stage, like Alejandro does with DJ in canon, but Noah's switched on to Alejandro's true colours since he's literally watched him eliminate the rest of his team. Maybe Noah plays into Heather's offered alliance instead? Again, I haven't really thought too much on this silly AU.

After Chris doesn't allow Noah to join Team CIRRRRH, and Noah himself refuses Alejandro's offered alliance, it turns into Alejandro driving himself crazy trying and failing to eliminate Noah.)

The main draw of the idea, for me at least, is Noah not making it to the final three though. Because (in my mind) Noah doesn't even really want to be back in the competition- he just kind of went along with the crowd for the Celeb Manhunt bus chase, and inadvertently bagged himself a spot on World Tour. He's under no delusions that he'll ever win the million, but floating his way to the merge would at least make up for the embarrassment of being voted out first from the Gophers his short run in Island.

So he makes it to the merge after playing a glorified game of cat-and-mouse (Tom and Jerry Style) with Alejandro. He's got a hypercompetent Archvillain gunning for his elimination, and now that the teams are null and void, alliances are the name of the game. So what does Noah do?

He gets himself eliminated, just to take the satisfaction of doing so away from Alejandro. Probably through a technicality or something too, like Izzy's departure from the competition, to save himself the shame effort of jumping out of the jet.

That's mostly because I really like the idea of Noah reaching the merge, thinking "I've reached the goal I've set for myself. Might as well quit whilst I'm ahead!" and just-

Leaving.

(Which is ironic, because he's spent the last ~8 challenges actually trying to remain in the competition, and now he's just. Giving up. Drawing a line in the sand. "This is as far as I go.")

It's a shame that the London challenge happens pre-merge, because the idea of Duncan being forced back into the competition and the jet taking off before anyone realises that they're missing Noah- who snuck away into the city and is having a great time using Chris' debit card (of which he memorised during his time as Chris' assistant) to live it up bourgeoisie style in London- is fuelling me.

Realistically though, he'd probably sneak off in China during the eating challenge- because why would he stick around when Owen's gone? It wouldn't be hard for him to throw the eating challenge at the first round and then just. Not sit as the loser's table. Maybe he knows enough Mandarin to get by, and manages to stowaway himself back home to his family and beloved golden lab.

Meanwhile, Alejandro is seething.

Owen is really proud of his little buddy for making the merge, and a little disappointed in Noah for 'giving up', but when Noah expresses that he didn't have anything to stay for after Owen's departure, his disappointment turns to sentimentality.

[magenta-racer]

Commission Art - Snowy Radish

Ayeeee artwork done by my friend, AnaLee94, who just opened commissions! So glad I could finally order a drawing from her, she's a great artist. 🥰

Raditz sharing a tender moment with Suno in Jingle Village. Their relationship is ambiguous at first, Suno first meets him wounded at the woods near her village, when she goes out to hunt, and Raditz only sees her as an inferior being to toy with. He tries teasing, messing with and tempting her, then gets amused as she dodges his advances and refuses him, though she starts getting attracted to him. The game of cat and mouse backfired on him, however, because he grew attached to her. Reazling this, Raditz fled her village without telling her, then decides to gather the Dragon Balls in order to get a wish to get back at Vegeta and Nappa for abandoning him.

It backfires again because he got defeated by Piccolo. Once again, he was back at Suno's place, the only one who he trusted to nurse him back to health, while still struggling to understand and accept his feelings for a human, specially after all the losses he suffered in his life. Sadly, Raditz only accepts his feelings when it's too late: Vegeta and Nappa arrive on Earth, and upset by Raditz's failure at gathering the magical orbs, they kill Suno as a punishment. This made something inside Raditz completely break, he was hellbent on getting his revenge from then on.

Suno gets brought back by Porunga after Frieza Saga, thankfully, but that doesn't ease Raditz's vendetta. Despite having her back and opening up about his feelings for her, Raditz is still determined to make Vegeta pay for everything he took away from him. Suno becomes his balance, and he's deeply grateful for having her in his life, Raditz would have likely lost himself completely if it weren't for her. She gets greatly frustrated and disappointed by his screw ups, though can't bring herself to hate him, even though it could be warranted sometimes. The things she puts up with for the man she loves. 😂

That's the summary of how their relationship came to be. 🤭 My AU is based on this fanfic, Dragon Ball Z: The Catalyst, which is totally worth checking out! :D

(Also, it's funny how Raditz's outfit reminds me of Chris Redfield in Resident Evil 8. 👀)

Art © AnaLee94.

Raditz and Suno are from Dragon Ball franchise © Akira Toriyama/Toei Animation.

[blondeaxolotl]

Do you think Clip Studio is worth the payments? ( asking for a friend/j ) And do the pros outway the cons or is it the other way around? Also, do you use custom brushes? And one last question.. Do you just draw on your laptop? Like, do you use a mouse, touchscreen or maybe a drawing tablet?

I've never seen anybody ask these questions and I'm curious, you don't have to answer though! Have a bagel 🥯🤲 and if you don't like bagels... 🥪🤲 Have a sammich.. and.. if you don't like either uhmm- Have a whole damn cake 🎂🤲 happy birthday [/silly], or hell, take all three! Have a wonderful day ❤️ [/gen]

Do you think Clip Studio is worth the payments?: When it comes to payments, I think it's always better to get it when it's on sale (which do come every now and then), it is a onetime payment and it's better to get it when the price is as low as it can be For pros and cons, the biggest pro of the program is you can get new brushes, blenders, erasers, tools, etc (anything that will help you with drawing easier) from the programs own little assets store (and majority of the brushes are free to download). And it's also easy to import brushes you get from other places (ex: you buy a brush from Kofi made by another artist). Meaning you have options in CSP's own brush store, and also other places on the internet, you aren't stuck with just using the default brushes you're given when you start the program That's the biggest pro to me, besides that you have everything else that comes with your average art program,

I will also mention that clipstudio also has it's own 3D modeler program, like you can import 3D figures and use them as your reference if you can't find one on pinterest. Though I've haven't used it myself so I do not know how easy it is or what the features are, so I can't comment much.

I think the last biggest pro is that if you program crashes (not often, but the chances are never low unfortunately), clip studio will restore your drawing for you and your drawing won't be sent to the shadow realm meaning you don't lose progress. I compare it to dropping your phone and you slowly pick it up out of fear that theres a crack in it only to find out oh there's not one it's fine.

Now for the cons, the biggest is the definitely the price, which is why I recommend getting it while it's on sale while it's at it's lowest. The program is insanely pricey. I also recommend the PRO ver instead of the EX ver. The PRO ver is cheaper and it's main focus is illustrations which is all you need if you're only planning on drawing. The EX ver is both for drawing and animation, while you can still animate on the PRO ver, it limits you insanely, like you can only make 25 second long animations and refuses to let you do more unless you pay for the EX ver. Now I have the EX ver and I'm learning animation, I will say Clip Studio's animation set up and layout is very confusing and tedious to beginners (I had to watch a good amount of tutorials to understand the features and everything), I believe some people compared it to animating on Photoshop, so if you haven't animated on Photoshop before, good luck. I'd say just use another animation program for animating (Flipaclip, ibispaint etc), the only reason why I'm sticking to animating to ClipStudio is because I'm stubborn and don't like switching programs. Clip Studio also has a free trial feature (which I believe lasts for 3 months), now this is good yes, but the problem is that the program refuses you to save your drawings with the free trial. I don't know if this was changed or not since it's been a while when I used the free trial, but if you want to get a hang of the program and test it out, there is a free trial, just be aware that it won't let you save your progress at all which is bull.

Those are my pros and cons, I have a lot more pros than cons but I tried to sum it up as best as I could. It's really your choice to decide if the program is worth it or not (again there is a free trial, and if you do plan on buying it, get it while it's on sale) The assets store with all the downloadable brushes is my biggest pro, but I'm aware other programs like IbisPaint also have that. I think that's all I have to say now for ClipStudio, i've yapped alot gulps.

---- do you use custom brushes?:

A good handful of the brushes I use are brushes I bought from other artists:

These brushes from PharanBrush on Kofi , I'm someone who likes to experiment with alot of brushes, so I often download/buy from other artists (I also have no self control). The EnpitsuP set comes with 100 brushes, alot I know, but your options are endless. The Krupuk set comes with 160 brushes, and alot of them are similar to like copic markers but for digital art. And the last one is BōrupenP sets, these are free and mimic school supplies, if you miss the feeling of drawing on your school books with pens, this one is also neat (plus it's free) Another brushpack I have is Cole's Pencil Pack , it comes with 19 brushes, of all kinds of taste and texture. I use this set alot, especially the "Cream Sketch 2" pencil as it's fun for lineart or sketching.

(Can you tell I like supporting artists) next set I have is Brush Box Vol.1 Markers by Olguioo this set mimics the feel of traditional art and even has a brush that makes your canvas look like paper!! It's very neat

Now of course I do have brushes that are free from the assets store, like these, which you can easily find by searching up their content ID codes:

Ofc there's more, but these are just some I use which I find neat!

---- Do you just draw on your laptop? Like, do you use a mouse, touchscreen or maybe a drawing tablet?:

I use a laptop and a drawing tablet! I specifically use the VEIKK Studio VK1200 pen display, my brother bought me it as a birthday gift this year, but before I had that one, I used the beginners One by Wacom tablet for like 4 years or more, I still use it sometimes, but only when i'm on vacation somewhere I can't bring my main one

OKAY I think that's about everything!!! Very long post so apologies if there are any typos or misspells or repeats! And thank you for the food, in return I will share the food with you because sharing is caring (ALSO if anyone elses wants to add something like other pros or cons about ClipStudio, or other brushes or anything like that, please feel free to leave it in the replies!!!)