#he would paint a lot of religious pieces

[littlefridayhoney]

hans zatzka (1859 - 1945), interior with a lightly dressed woman and a lute player, at the swan lake, fairy dance // seventeen, circles (2022)

[sentientfunfetti]

killer!wally/reader hcs

(killer wally and his au were made by @itskorrychang on tumblr and twitter! go support their work!)

REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK APPRECIATED!

CW// THEMES OF DEATH, POSSESSIVENESS, ABANDONMENT AND LONELINESS.

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when you two first meet, he’s wary of you and a lot more aggressive. that is until you show that you’re not a threat. it takes a while, but when he finally does fall for you he’s head over heels. to the point you can’t leave his sight. he follows you everywhere.

due to the fear of you abandoning him, and him being all alone again, it’s only natural that he takes steps to make sure that just won’t happen. let it be locking doors, hiding keys, not answering questions. he hates lying, but if it makes you stay the he’s all for it. some things are better kept secret, after all.

speaking of questions: he loves both asking and answering them…but everyone has their limits. unfortunately for you, you tend to reach that limit very easily. if you ask too many too much, he’ll just…stare at you. eyes wide. pupils dilated. lips pressed into a thin line. silent…then carry on as if nothing happened! try not to push his buttons too much. he’s not above putting his pallet knife to use…

can’t imagine a world without you. you’re the kindest neighbor ever, after all!

loves everything about you. especially your eyes. eye contact was a bit hard for him after he lost one of his own, but after you showed up and showed you were accepting of that fact, oh boy did he love that. he loves your eyes, the color, the way they widen when your surprised…the fact you have both of them…

paints you religiously. he doesn’t even need you to model anymore. it seems like every time you turn around theres a new piece, or doodle of you somewhere.

more than anything, he just loves having you around. you brighten his day, make him smile, ease the pain of loneliness. you’re just so sweet. you make him feel warm and fuzzy. he can’t get enough of you.

as soon as you break down his walls, he’d do anything for you. anything. draw blood, trash all of his paintings, take his other eye. anything. all he wants to do is make you smile. make you stay. make you want him. he still doesn’t fully understand romance, or love, but all he knows is that you make him feel something new. something good.

if you two fight, he immediately comes to you apologizing. he’d break into sobs if you didn’t forgive him, and immediately beg you to stay. don’t leave him. if you refuse…well…

in short, he would make you stay if he needed to. he can’t have his favorite neighbor leaving so soon! he’d tie you up to a chair, and feed you everyday. he’d take good care of you. he’d let you out one day if you promise not to try and leave again. if not, then, it’s back to the chair! womp womp!

also loves the fact you’re taller than him. loves when you pick him up and move him around, the fact you have to look down at him, the fact you can cradle him so easily in your arms, he loves sleeping with you, and watching you sleep. you look so peaceful…

speaking of sleep. he’s plagued by nightmares and night terrors (yes those two things are separate things and conditions). you wake up to him screaming and kicking frequently, begging for his late neighbors to stay, for them to stop. at first, you were to afraid to comfort him, or wake him up, but after a bit you began to hold him close, whispering that it was just a dream in his ear as you watch his body relax.

he loves watching you sleep. when he wakes up from nightmares in the middle of the night and you aren’t woken up by his tossing and turning, he just sits up and watches over you. he feels nice knowing that you and him are safe there, together. you’re safe with him. always.

sometimes, he enjoys taking care of you too. he’ll sing to you as you fall asleep, tell you stories, teach you how to draw, anything that puts a smile on your face and makes your day.

when you two aren’t painting or overall just hanging out together, one of his favorite things to do is cuddle you. he loves feeling your body against his (not like that calm down), and he loves looking into your eyes while you two cuddle. more than anything, he loves listening to your heartbeat. it’s something he lacks, and he’s fascinated by it.

he’s fascinated about everything biological with you. one thing he can’t seem to grasp is the fact you can eat…like actually eat. with your mouth. he gasped when he first saw you bite into one of the apples he gave you. he also loves how squishy you are. the feeling of your skin is different than his fuzzy skin. he lets you ask your questions about his anatomy too…as long as you don’t ask too much.

has frequent hallucinations, and episodes where he becomes frantic, irritated and paranoid. sometimes he accuses you of hurting his friends, and taking them away. as scary as it is, you take the time to calm him down, get the knife away from him, and remind him that you’re here for him. that you care. be appreciates this, and most times takes a nap afterwards having spent all his energy tearing the studio apart looking for his friends.

wants to introduce you to Barnaby one day…or at least what’s left of him. doesn’t allow you into the other neighbors houses AT ALL. “neighbor…it’s rude to go into other peoples houses without knocking…naughty naughty…!”

at the end of the day, he’s harmless. as long as you stick around and make sure he’s in high spirits, this can only end well!

author’s note ⊹˚. ♡

just wanted to do some killer wally hcs. i absolutely love this little guy! such a silly little fellow! wahoo!

anyway, i have a few requests to do and some more of my own hcs i wanna do. if you have any requests, don’t be afraid to request them! until then :3

[greycaelum]

Scribbles & Doodles— Mafia Gojo: { Summer Heat }

—Mafia Gojo Satoru X Wife Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sir, you look like my husband."

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

"You really are a minx." Satoru groaned.

"Only for my husband."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You want a family with him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But Satoru raggedly cursed almost making you faint.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Nooo, hold me." You frowned sleepily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—GreyCaelum

PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME

Check out the Masterlist for more

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

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

[sanrielle]

Amazing fanart by Joanacchi! Posted here on tumblr with their blessing. Each one is based on a style that reflects a particular ancient culture's art history. (See below for descriptions provided by the artist!)

Store (buy these prints!) Twitter Instagram

Aang: Tibetan Thangka

"Thangkas are traditional Tibetan tapestries that have been used for religious and educational purposes since ancient times! The techniques applied can vary greatly, but they usually use silk or cotton fabrics to paint or embroider on. What you can depict in a Thangka is really versatile, and I wanted to represent things that make up Aang as a character."

Zuko and Azula: Japanese Ukiyo-e

"Ukiyo-e is a style that has been around Japan between the 17th and 19th century, and focused mainly in representing daily life, theater(kabuki), natural landscapes, and sometimes historical characters or legends!

Ukiyo-e was developed to be more of a fast and commercial type of art, so many drawings we see are actually woodblock prints, so the artist could do many copies of the same art!

I based my Zuko and Azula pieces on the work of Utagawa Kuniyoshi (1798-1861) one of the last ukiyo-e masters in Japan! He has a specific piece which featured a fire demon fighting a lord that fought back with lighting, and that really matched Zuko and Azula's main techniques!”

Toph: Chinese Portraiture from Ming and Qing Dynasties

"Ming Dynasty (1368-1644) was one of the longest in China! It was also a period where lots of artistic evolutions were happening, especially when it comes to use of colour! There was not a predilection for portraits during this time, but there are a lot of pieces depicting idealized women and goddesses from the standards of the time. For this portrait of Toph, I imagined something that maybe their parents commissioned, depicting a soft and delicate Toph which we know is not what she is about ♥️

Qing Dynasty (1644-1912) was the last Chinese Dynasty to reign before the Revolution. One of the most famous emperors of this period was Qianlong, and he really liked Western art! He commissioned a lot of portraits of his subordinates, and I chose a portrait of one of his bodyguards as a reference for the second Toph portrait, which I believe is much more like how she would want to be represented! The poem on top talks about the bodyguards' achievements during a specific war. I had no time to come up with a poem for Toph, so I just used the same one for the composition!”

Sokka and Katara: Inuit Lithograph

"For a long time, Inuit art expressed itself in utilitarian ways. The Nomadic lifestyle of early Inuit tribes played a huge part in that: most art pieces are carved in useful tools, clothing, or children's toys, small and easy to be transported, and depicted scenes and patterns representing their daily lives!

That changed a lot during the colonization. Since the settling of the Inuit tribes, many art pieces began to be created in order to be exported to foreigns, so they started to sculpt bigger and more decorative pieces.

Lithography, which is a type of printmaking, was introduced to Inuit people by James Houston, that learned the technique from the japanese. The art form was quickly embraced by the inuit, as part of the process is very similar to carving. Prints that are produced by inuit artists are still being sold today!

As lithography is not an old art style and it's still commercially relevant to the Inuit communities, since creating these in 2021 I have been donating regularly to the Inuit Art Foundation, not only all the money I get from selling some prints of these but a bit more, at least once a year. Hopefully, I can increase donations this year!”

[ghostlywhiskey]

Simon Riley (Priest AU) - Forgive me, Father.

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,203

Warnings: MDNI 18+ ☆ Sacrilege, priest, mentions of prayer and common language used in confessionals - overall religious content that may upset some. Abuse of power. Mentions of being used and somnophilia. Cussing. Masturbation (Simon & reader).

Summary: After having improper thoughts weighing guilt on your mind, you decide to resort to confession. Simon has methods of how you can be forgiven.

Notes: Um, well, yeah. I’m not sure what to say. Writing this whole thing was a 'damn, Catholicism ingrained in me fr' moment from how I literally closed my eyes to remember how I would walk into church & what would be said in confession. Ha. Anyway. Minimal proofreading, I felt too dirty to re-read.

find my masterlist here

You weren't a frequent churchgoer. After years of Catholic school, it all became tiring and felt almost forced at this rate, but you went for the holidays like Easter & Christmas - at your grandparents request to be fair.

But, old habits die hard and one day you find yourself pulling into the parking lot of the church. Maybe it was the Catholic guilt ingrained in you that drew you to go today. 

The large wood doors creaked as you opened them and walked into the church. Every Catholic church looked the same to you - the stained glass, the architecture, the same old wooden pews either their original wood or coated in layers of white paint refreshed over the years. And every church you had ever been to was always so cold - why?

Every single move was like muscle memory. Your fingers dipped into the font that contained the holy water, quietly whispering as you did the sign of the cross and genuflected. 

Your eyes scanned the church, noting the layout as you located the confessional. Once you entered and sat down, you rang the tiny bell to indicate your presence. Heavy footsteps outside getting closer as you heard the priest enter the other side of the confessional, the divider sliding open so you can only make out the figure through the tiny holes.

"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen." The words are spoken in unison. His voice is clearer to you now as he only speaks now, "May God who has enlightened every heart, help you to know your sins and trust in His mercy." In response, you quietly whisper 'amen' in return.

Clearing your throat and tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, you prepare to speak. "Bless me Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was 5 years ago. These are my sins.." The list of sins are far more minimal in nature such as disrespecting your parents, gossiping, lying and so forth.

Then, you finally get to what has been weighing on your mind like a ton of bricks. "And impure thoughts.." Your words trailing off, the sound of the priest shifting on the other side noticeable from the close proximity despite the divider separating you both. "In order to truly know the severity, what do these impure thoughts include, my child?" He asks, your body tensing as the question catches you off guard. "Ah, regarding premarital sex acts, Father."  You respond, fingers fidgeting with the rings on your hands. "Explain." This is all he says before the silence lingers in the small space before you speak again. "This is only to help your absolution." His voice urges you to continue, the words trying to ease you to come clean. “Well," Swallowing the lump in your throat, your cheeks burning from embarrassment despite your identity being unknown to him. "The thoughts consist of being used at will by a man. To be degraded and fucked until I'm begging for him to stop, but my whines only encourage him to continue. I don't want him to stop.” Your voice is strained, as if you're scared to admit it out loud. And truthfully, this was the first time you had admitted the thoughts out loud.  Your thighs squeeze together as your brain digs deeper into the thoughts you’ve been suppressing for a few months now. 

The sound of the priest clearing his throat pulls your attention back. “Surely that isn’t all, my child.” He says, and you shake your head in response even if he can’t see. “N-No. That isn’t all.” Rings spinning around your fingers as you continue to fidget from nerves. “Please remember, I need to know everything to offer you absolution.” Nodding, you swish spit in your mouth to coat the dryness to some extent and swallow. 

“I-I think about being woken up in the night, the man already buried deep in me. My body  doesn’t resist the feeling and clenching around him as my consciousness regains from sleep.” The heat between your thighs grows as you now shift in the seat, one leg moves to cross over the other in an effort to control the sensation.

The sound of a zipper coming undone is undeniable as your ears pick up on it, your lips parting slightly from shock as you process what’s happening on the other side of the confessional. “Father?” Your voice barely whispers, wondering if you acknowledge it, then he would stop. “Are these thoughts about anyone specific?” He mutters, his hand palming himself through his boxers. “No, just general desires, Father.” 

He inhales a breath and exhales before he speaks. “Have you acted on these thoughts?” No, but you fucking wish. “No, Father.” And maybe it was your own thoughts warping, but you could have sworn you heard him mumble the words, ‘Forgive me, Father’. 

On the other side of the confessional, unbeknown to you, the priest had now pulled his cock free from the constraints of his briefs. Biting back a groan, his hand comes up to his mouth as he quietly spits into his palm before he wraps it around himself. “For your penance, you must do exactly as I say, understood?” He speaks, his voice sounds low, demanding in a way. 

“Understood, Father.” You reply, your chest rising and falling slowly as you anticipate what he is going to say next. “We must rid you of these thoughts. You need to release them.” He murmurs, his hand slowly pumping up and then down. “Be a good girl and spread your legs.” 

Oh my God. Like actually, oh my God. Your brain rings in your head, doing as you're told and spreading your legs. Hearing the movement, he continues to speak. “My child, what are you wearing?” The question is simple, your hand already sliding down to the exposed panties your dress reveals once your legs are spread. “Knee length sundress.” You respond, your head leaning back against the wood of the confessional as your fingers rub the fabric covering your already wet cunt. “Hmm, and I suppose that length is useless as your legs are spread. Exposing yourself like a good girl, but such a slut.” The word slut drips from his mouth like venom, the tone of his voice sending excitement through your body. “Slide the panties off.” He orders, and you obey as you reach for the waistband and slide them down to your ankles, shaking them off to the floor of the confessional. “They’re off, Father.” You whisper, glancing at the divider. Never in your life did you want to be seen more than in this moment. “Father Simon.” He corrects. “Call me Father Simon.” 

“Father Simon.” You repeat the name he asked you to call him. A quiet groan travels to your side of the confessional and you can’t help but move your fingers to rub between your folds. The fact he was groaning to you just saying his title was causing your stomach to tie into knots. “What do I need to do, Father Simon?” You beg, wanting him to continue directing you. “Such an eager girl to be forgiven. You wouldn’t need forgiveness if you weren’t such a slut.” He hissed. “But you come into this confessional and speak of how you wish to be used. To be degraded. Do you think you can be forgiven?” 

“I-I want to be forgiven.” Your fingers build up your excitement, teasing your folds as your fingers move to give your clit some attention as you rub it gently. “I’m sorry, Father Simon. I’m sorry.” You choke out, almost forgetting to breathe amidst the pleasure. “Just because you’re sorry does not guarantee forgiveness.” Simon’s own hand continues to pump his cock, his thumb brushes over the head as some pre-cum oozes out. “You sound stupid saying sorry. Saying sorry while I can hear your hand moving as you touch yourself. Take those fingers and fuck yourself with three of them.” The order coming out of his mouth leaves you breathing shakily.

“F-Father, three?” You ask in order to clarify his demand. “R-Right away?” You needed time to adjust, even with your own slender fingers it took time before you could even have two. “You heard me.” He responds, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Don’t disappoint me, sweetheart.” Simon’s hand starts to pump his cock faster, his free hand moves to massage his balls. 

While you’re already wet, just to be sure you take your index, middle and ring finger to your lips. Your mouth wrapping around the fingers, sucking and swirling your tongue to coat them in saliva. Pulling them away, you carefully position them, teasing your entrance before you push into yourself. Your free hand covers your mouth as you feel them stretching you slightly. A moan muffled by your hand is the additional sound mixed with your fingers starting to pump in and out of you, the wet stickiness filling the confessional. “Oh, sweetheart. You must look so beautiful spread out fucking yourself with your fingers.” Simon coos through the divider, his breaths shallow. “I wish I could bury my cock into that wet, tight cunt. Let me hear you pray to God for that.” 

Closing your eyes as he speaks, you imagine the priest grabbing your hips and forcing himself into you, despite having no idea of his appearance. Your head against the wood of the confessional again as you try to hold your moans in even with your hand over your mouth, scared if anyone else were to enter the church they would hear you both behind these curtains. “I don’t hear you.” Simon growls, glancing at the divider to barely see the movements of your hand as your body moves in response. “G-God, please. I want Father Simon’s cock.” He hears you whimper quietly, a grin forming on his face. “Oh..such a good, good girl.” Simon’s voice acknowledging your compliance. Your fingers curl inside as he praises you, allowing yourself the small reward. “Father Simon, I-I’m so wet.” 

“Mmph..those pretty little fingers must be slick with your juices.” Simon’s own head leaning against the wood of the confessional now, eyes closed as he pumps his cock faster and pushes down hard. The image of his cock disappearing in between your folds making his thoughts spin. “Keep pumping those fingers. We need to make you cum. Release the thoughts that are rotting your brain.” Simon’s teeth grit together, a soft hissing sound coming out as his pump down puts pressure on him.

Not trusting yourself, your hand is back on your mouth. The sound of your wet cunt getting pumped with your fingers fills both your ears and Simon’s, the squishing sounds push him closer to his own release. And for you, the thought of his cock instead of your fingers pulling you closer to the edge before you jump off and release. Whimpering into your palm, you clench around your fingers and pump a few more times before releasing around them. Your thighs immediately squeezing shut as you try to control your shaking. “S-Simon.” You cry softly, lips parted as you pant softly. “F-Fuck.” He groans, the hand not pumping his now cum covered cock fists and hits the confessional wall. The release that had been building up in him for months now. 

“In addition, you leave your panties behind. Along with that, I expect you to recite twenty Hail Mary’s and twenty Our Father’s after your release. Make an act of contrition.” His voice strained from his recent climax. Dazed from your own climax as well, the words come out of your mouth without hesitation, “My God, I am sorry for my sins with all my heart. In choosing to do wrong and failing to do good…” Pausing for a brief moment, you swallow a lump in your throat. “I have sinned against You, whom I should love above all things. I firmly intend, with Your help, to do penance, to sin no more, and to avoid whatever leads me to sin. Our Savior, Jesus Christ, suffered and died for us. In His Name, my God, have mercy. Amen.” After the words leave your lips, you catch your breath again.

The sound of Simon readjusting and zipping himself up is the only sound you hear in response. “F-Father?” You say softly, awaiting for him to absolve you. “My child…” Simon’s voice sounds like it did when you first sat in the confessional. “God cannot give you pardon and peace as of today. Therefore, I cannot absolve you of your sins. Come back in five days after I’ve had some time to rest and ask God for a final answer.” 

And with that, the sound of footsteps fill the church once more, followed by the door to the sacristy opening and closing indicating he would not be seen by you when you left. The response leaves you stunned for a few moments, before your legs get the strength to stand up and exit the confessional. The hand you didn’t use to finger yourself gently dips into the font as you leave, the sign of the cross spoken softly as you walk out.

[ataraxiaspainting]

There’s a Certain Slant of Light.

Yan (Soulmate) Chrollo x F Reader.

Synopsis: Something is different. But what could it be?

Warnings: Yandere themes, the reader is unwillingly a Spider and from Meteor City, mentions of religion/religious imagery, implied drugging, manipulation, and unhealthy relationships.

Word Count: 1k.

i’ve been seeing a lot of chrollo being paired with a phantom troupe member reader and i just think that the concept is very interesting! :D

credits for og art piece here!

*~*~*~*

Your sword, while having the ability to stab and slice just about anything, is still by far the most frail weapon at your disposal. It is a slight sadness that fills Chrollo’s mind, then, once he realizes this. The feeling is small, minuscule, just like most of the other emotions Chrollo’s heart cannot beat with, the blood that flows through his veins frozen with the concept of what he wants to be. He feels next to nothing as if he were a walking corpse, a prisoner who has just been released from the deepest depths of hell, not once being able to see twinkling eyes and shining stars. Light is a concept unknown to people like him, and people like you, foreign, as alien as a coup made of peasants storming a palace larger than ten of their villages combined. 

Your two true weapons are your lips calling out his name, and the thin red string that connects your little finger and your fate to his thumb and his future. Despite the thread being wispier than that of paper, it has a will stronger than one forged in diamonds and never had to be a carbon crystal to be so. Chrollo is thankful for it, more so than he is for most things that he would rather leave in the past. It has linked you two together for so long and has been the key for chaining down your animosity towards him whenever he had gone too far. All he had to do was tug, and you would be right back wherever he had placed you. But even diamonds can shatter when a love made in a less-than-fortunate childhood turns more and more into hate.

This entire act is like a balancing beam. He must not be too loud, but also not be too quiet. He must always have cards up his sleeve for any potential mishaps down the line. Inside one hand is the key to your freedom, but inside the other is the key to a false route to such fantasies, the trap of reality. Even Chrollo does not know which is which, for he is a dreamer himself at heart.

“Good morning, sir,” It is a rare sight, you yawning, your posture nowhere near how put together it usually is. “How are you today, sir?”

“Very well, thank you.”

“I must have been quite exhausted last night; my apologies, sir.”

“I told you if you ever wanted to take a break here, you are more than welcome to.”

“I’ve always declined such an offer for a reason, sir.”

“Just as I’ve always told you that you may call me just Chrollo for a reason, [First]. I think I haven't heard you say my name without an honorific since we were both still children if my memory serves correctly.”

“...”

The provocation of the past seems to hurt you more than him it seems, from how you flinch at the word children, and from how he smiles at your discomfort. 

“We are not with the rest of the Troupe right now, it is quite alright if you want to relive prior times, wouldn’t you say?” He asks, and with his eyes appearing to look back at his books, he sees yours darting around the room, looking for an escape route.

They move left, to the tables at the back of the sitting room which hold lamps and framed photos and paintings. Then right, to the fireplace and the large but still solitary couch, covered with leather and embroideries. Then up, to the crackless and spotless white ceiling, and then down, to the wooden rosewood planks of the floor.

“I saw a book in your satchel. Crime and Punishment, hmm?”

“Yes. Please do not say how ironic it is, sir.”

“Very well.”

To you, perhaps the room feels deathly still. To him, it feels like the scene right before the climax. Slow, steady, full of tension and dread. Though Chrollo will never let the curtains that cover your very soul close ever again. It would not be hard to get them to open up again, you have known each other for so long after all, but regardless he needs you to stay within the palm of his hand forevermore. Only then will he be able to feel something so warm and soft once more.

Oh, how he wishes that he could open the floor below you and trap you there. But he cannot. At least not yet.

“...Where is my bag?” At your question, Chrollo pulls his thumb towards him, and you move accordingly. “It is not in the room.” You continue, your eyebrows furrowing as you attempt to resist. “Sir?”

Desperation. Then a hand raise and a pause.

“Stolen treasure from the last meeting.” Chrollo begins curtly. “A contact list full of people I have not permitted you to speak to. Keys to a car that is not mine.” He proceeds to say. “Tell me, [First], what is all of this, hmm?”

Something akin to a mix of a horrified chuckle and a choking sound emerges from your throat as if his hands were squeezing and squeezing until you burst. He sets the book he was reading down, and without his hands covering both the front and back of it, you see the title, the synopsis.

“Crime and Punishment, hmm?” He repeats, and for the first time in what must be a few years, he sees you terrified, shaking, and near to tears. “A clever way to code your plan.” Chrollo crosses his legs. “By the way, it is an hour or so past sunset by now.” He hears a small gasp from you. “You missed your flight a long time ago, sweet thing.”

“...I… I…”

“You were planning on leaving us, weren’t you?” When you don’t answer, instead looking straight towards the door, he raises his thumb again. “I know you never wanted to join the Troupe, per se, but still… this hurts.” He pulls and pulls, and being forced to be a puppet for the umpteenth time since the soulmate string has appeared in Chrollo’s vision, you are placed where he wants you to be. 

Close to him.

[drchucktingle]

DECONSTRUCTING DAMASCUS #3

hello buckaroos and WELCOME BACK for another edition of DECONSTRUCTING DAMASCUS. as before please remember there are huge spoilers ahead and you should absolutely not read this way if you have not already read camp damascus. however if you are all finished with the dang book then trot right ahead.

this is the third in a series of posts so if you are just now finding this way you should probably trot on back and start from the first post here are links

DECONSTRUCTING DAMASCUS #1

DECONSTRUCTING DAMASCUS #2

(EDIT: PART 4 IS HERE)

alright buckaroo now that this is out of the dang way lets dive right in. WARNING: CAMP DAMASCUS SPOILERS BEYOND THIS POINT

DECONSTRUCTING DAMASCUS #3: HOLY AS HECK

i have talked a lot about way of layers that make up camp damascus. previously we tackled FAIRYTALE LAYER and this time we will focus on way of BIBLICAL LAYER.

FAIRYTALE layer makes for pretty complete allegory that stretches from beginning to end of story. it moves in specific order to create a full narrative. however BIBLICAL layer is much more abstract in its trot, taking in bits and pieces from various religious stories and texts and ideas and letting them weave over the top of each other. because of this, i will not be as explicit with TRUE MEANING as i have with other posts, but i will give the buckaroos some starter information on their journey to pick this one apart.

FIRST lets see what the bible has to say about some of these characters

ISAIAH is one of the first characters we meet in chapter one of camp damascus, and although he is not around for the rest of the story, his early appearance has a lot to say metaphorically. ISAIAH in the bible says this in ISAIAH 17:1 - 'a prophecy against damascus: 'see, damascus will no longer be a city, but will become a heap of ruins.''

there is a contemporary language bible name of MSG that translates isaiahs prophecy to this 'a message concerning damascus: “watch this: damascus undone as a city, a pile of dust and rubble! her towns emptied of people. the sheep and goats will move in and take over the towns as if they owned them—which they will!'

in other words if you read into name of this character in first few pages you can unlock everything about the trot of the demons and what happens the last few pages of the book.

another interesting name is SAUL GREEN. in bible saul is known for his CONVERSION ON THE ROAD TO DAMASCUS.

i will write out book of ACTS 9 where this story appears in the bible (gonna cut out a few things to make shorter for you but i will keep line numbers)

ACTS 9 (talkin about saul)

3 as he journeyed he came near damascus, and suddenly a light shone around him from heaven.

6 so he, trembling and astonished, said, “lord, what do you want me to do?”

then the lord said to him, “arise and go into the city, and you will be told what you must do.”

7 and the men who journeyed with him stood speechless, hearing a voice but seeing no one.

8 then saul arose from the ground, and when his eyes were opened he saw no one. but they led him by the hand and brought him into damascus.

9 and he was three days without sight, and neither ate nor drank.

AND THAT IS THAT BUCKAROOS. thing to consider here is that saul green went to camp damascus. he was asked to go not taken like the others (he is counselor) and on his journey he could not see (this is metaphor for memory loss) yet he walked away full of faith.

final name i would like to talk about is WILLOW. she is seen as heathen and seductress by community, especially by LISA DARLING who is roses mother. lisa is righteous and ANGRY, painting herself as the CORRECT and HOLY voice, while believing willow is a sinner and bad influence.

near end of book we learn willows legal name is MAGDALENE which is reference to mary magdalene. in bible mary magdalene is a bud of jesus, they are always hanging out and trotting around together. it is believed by most that mary magdalene was a prostitute (or former prostitute) although this is not specifically in the dang text so who the heck knows.

marys story is about the townspeople treating her badly because of her reputation, believing THEY are the morally superior folks and she is the sinner. HOWEVER jesus will not condemn mary. stepping in jesus says 'actually you townsfolk are wrong, this is my bud, who the heck are YOU to judge? you are all much worse'

so in case of camp damascus this is reflected as a way of saying, 'actually lisa, according to the bible story YOU are the ignorant one for judging willow (mary magdalene) YOU ARE IN THE WRONG.' once you connect these dots you begin to see that lisas main character trait is JUDGEMENT (like in walking game)

a few more quick notes:

all demons mentioned in camp damascus, as well as additional occult texts mentioned like THE BOOK OF THE SACRED MAGIC OF ABRAMELIN THE MAGE, are actual demon titles and real books.

there is a chapter in camp damascus titled STRAIGHT STREET. the main road down middle of the actual city of damascus is 'straight street'

the innermost layer of hell being cold is actually what is written in dantes DEVINE COMEDY. this is the ninth circle of hell and it is described as a freezing, icy landscape where buckaroos are buried up to their necks in ice and tortured.

finally i will leave you buckaroos reading this with an image of a REAL PAINTING name of THE HOLY FAMILY WITH THE MAYFLY. this is an actual painting from 1495. as you can see there is tiny mayfly in the bottom right corner. nobody knows why it is there

[mosaickiwi]

Fall Unto Me (part three)

Part one, part two

I said I was on break but then a lot of things immediately fell out of my brain cause of stress so now I feel silly... sowweeeeee 🤡 Part four WILL be the last part I swear. If you see more Angel!Angel and Demon!Ren from me after that (and da infodump if i get to it) genuinely tell me to shut the FUCK up!!!

yes i am probably writing the NSFW version it'll be in my compendium post if it happens

cw// religious themes

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

Your resolve was getting harder to hold on to, but you kept it. This would be the last time. You couldn't part from heaven again after returning. Atonement was waiting for you, eternal devotion to your duty right after.

Another few weeks went by as you stayed with Ren a little longer, the sea of flowers outside your bedroom window changing little by little each day. So many of them were already fully blooming, most of their petals stretched open to show off a myriad of colors while others curled inwards to hide from you. Practically a taunting mockery with how they took their time. As if insulted you would dare leave once they painted the horizon with their beauty.

It made it all the more painful that you'd never see them again. Or the companion that now felt like a piece you'd been missing.

Something about that encroaching deadline had affected the devil, too. Ren was calmer in some ways. They still brought you gifts and knowledge like usual, but he seemed to be taking his time just like the flowers. Simple answers to your curiosities became thorough while he held you close and urged you to ask more questions about whichever object took interest. 

He'd offered to revisit trinkets you loved as well. Until you were as familiar with using them as he was. You couldn't understand it. 

Your time together was draining away by the second. Didn't they want to make exciting memories? No matter how much you enjoyed it, mastery over human instruments or crafts served no purpose. Heaven wouldn't let you bring those things home, nor could you ask a higher power to recreate them for leisure.

Maybe your love was in denial of your departure. Or maybe spending little mundane, quiet days and nights together like this was their way of coming to terms with it.

Today, you chose to fiddle with one of the oldest gifts while chatting with him. The sun was just beginning to set, casting the room in the faded, flaming gold hue you'd only now gotten used to. 

“—Love?” He was calling you, the end of his tail swaying gently in front of your face to get your attention. You’d missed a few words.

“Hm?”

“You've gotten much better at this,” the pink haired devil hummed above you. His chin was resting atop your head as they cradled you in their lap on a frayed rug, his back against the bottom of the couch.

You looked over your work. The woven red string wrapped around and through your fingers took the shape of a pointed star. You knew real stars looked differently, but the human interpretation was interesting.

“Truly, it’s better than before,” you said with wholehearted agreement. The first time you'd tried—only on the third day of your visit to earth—had simply tangled the string to a knotted mess stuck upon your fingers for Ren to deal with while you apologized, embarrassed beyond belief. 

The patterns they taught you were almost easy thanks to your afternoon of trying. You unwound the string and painstakingly wound it again into one that often graced your practice: an angel. He'd been particularly smug about teaching you the motions of that one.

“An impressive self portrait,” Ren joked and squeezed you tighter in their embrace. “Although it'll take more than some thread to capture your divine beauty.”

Naturally, you rolled your eyes even though the soul it was meant for couldn't see it. A mortal gesture you'd gotten the hang of quicker than anything, as he so favored innocent teasing before expressing his deepest sincerities.

You untangled the string and tossed it to the side, then turned in their lap to make a face this time for their benefit. “I’ll do a painting, then. I’ve had enough of this toy.”

He relaxed his hold long enough for you to wander across the room in search of new distractions, but innocently called after you, “We’ll have to light quite a few candles for you to see well. Unless you plan to have me mix paints for you in the dark.” A second passed before he spoke again. “It’d be a pleasant surprise, I’m sure.” 

“Something else?” you replied, making a swift turn towards the bookshelves. You came back with a couple of novels and sat beside them with your treasure. “Is this really all you want to do? You’ve read every book here before.” 

Even the books he’d bought with strange, flimsy paper currency for you, Ren had said so casually, were already familiar territory. Tedium hardly described how boring you thought these weeks must be for him. But he never objected to anything you chose, as long as you both stayed close to home during the day. 

And you always kept your wings hidden in case a human roamed nearby. You'd never seen one come close to the cabin, or even the field of flowers, but he insisted your safety—and proximity to them—was of utmost priority. It was hard to remember the last time you let loose your wings at all after walking on the beach with him. They interrupted your thoughts once more.

“My sweet, delicate angel, I’ve had all the time in the world to do anything I want.” Their blue eyes narrowed with a smile as they spoke and you knew more teasing was coming. “We could even sit here in silence all night, if you asked me nicely.”

“How kind of you, my darling demon,” you teased them back. 

Another jesting response in his gaze faded to something different as you pulled him down for a kiss, gently at first. The books you’d brought over lay forgotten, soon shoved under the couch in favor of your new activity.

Kissing the demon you called yours felt like second nature now. There was no sting that ever came, no homesick aching in your back anymore. Only the flood of tender emotions he gave you, tainted by your own guilt and fears of parting from him.

You needed more. A stronger distraction. Your hand on his shirt tightened, determined to keep him. To stay in this moment as long as possible.

Ren exhaled, a muttering of blasphemous praise you dare not repeat whispered from his lips to yours, along with one word. A word that sounded odd to your ears. 

You'd heard it countless times over the months, but it didn't feel strange until after the first kiss you shared. He must have said it earlier, too, when you were occupied with that damned little red string. Demonic language was much different, it certainly wasn’t that at all. And the sounds of the word did feel similar to mortal languages, but nothing came to mind. So naturally, you could only assume it to be another of their pet names, but…

The thought fell to the side as you focused on him. He was all that needed to matter right now.

Their comforting warmth that called of your sacred home, your nails curling into the bottom of his shirt just to fall lower, an iron, almost nectar-like taste that flowered on your tongue—did you bite him this time? It felt good. 

Desperately, you brushed your hand over his thigh, getting dangerously close to where you knew things risked going further. You caught yourself and froze. You wanted him, you’d known since that day in the rain. In every way a being could yearn for another’s love. And of course he felt the same. But could you really go home if it happened? 

“Before I…” The words hung in the air and what remained weighed in your throat. Before I leave. Departure was looming on the horizon, sure as the sun would rise tomorrow. You dare not mention it to the one you loved again. You opened your eyes to meet theirs, cautiously as you wondered, “Is this alright?”

“Yes,” they answered, longing clear as the evening sky in his voice. “I couldn’t bear—or ever want—to deny you. Little angel, all you desire of me is yours to take.”

Without another word you did just that. You thought nothing of the faint, staggered line you felt under your fingertips that seemed to start somewhere along his shoulder blade as you lifted the shirt away and pushed him to lay on the rug. Your hands pressed their ink-stained arms flat next to the disheveled mess of pink hair and horns. Ren grinned at your audacity to pin him, but held still for your much needed exploration. 

Eyes half lidded with patient lust, mouth parted to show off pointed fangs, the devil looked to be the very picture of your sinful desires.

To be one with them, even just once, was a memory worth making. No matter what punishment waited for you at heaven’s boundary. You skimmed your fingers from the base of his collarbone, down over their stomach, and began to undo the buttons that concealed what you’d been waiting for.

[ghostchems]

la bella luna -papa emeritus ii x female!reader (part 2)

secondo gives you a tour of the abbey.

author's note: part 2 is finally here! this is for @tasty-ribz <3. 3.5k words. mndi! we got a lot of spiciness here :) as of right now, this is the final part but there potentially could be a part 3 later on :) ao3 link.

“Are you gonna let me leave?”

He ignores you. He has been ignoring your pleas and questions for the duration of your breakfast. Despite the air of grumpiness and stress, the breakfast was quite good – over easy eggs, bacon and toast, that you happily devoured. Now that your plate is empty, you continue to stare at Secondo who is lost in some papers in front of him.

You are starting to get upset, your head starting to swim with thoughts that he is holding you captive now. The awareness that you left your phone in his room spikes your anxiety. Your knee is bouncing underneath the table as Secondo takes a long, drawn out sip of his coffee. You squint to try and make out what his papers say but a nun (?) quickly comes to the table, clearing it of plates and tucking the papers under her arm. She doesn’t even spare you a glance.

Secondo is gazing at you now, his expression completely unreadable besides the always present scowl that is painted on his face. He stands from the table and you quickly do the same, fidgeting with your hands as you give him the most unsure face you can possibly muster. He reaches for you, his hand resting gently on your shoulder and you feel a small sense of relief just from the touch.

“Come. I’ll show you around, cara.” His voice is calm, yet stern. You swallow thickly and nod at him. He seems so different than the night before, much more rigid and tense, but then again, he had been drinking. Secondo still offers a small squeeze to your shoulder before turning on heel to leave the dining area. 

You follow after him like a lost puppy. This is not how you imagined this morning going. You figured you would be home by now, having your precious alone time after a shockingly successful night out. But instead, you are following a man in flowing, scary robes around what appears to be a ministry of some sort.

There is religious imagery plastered along the halls and inside what appear to be classrooms and meeting areas, as well as plenty of inverted crosses. Still, overall it seemed like a nice place? People seemed happy. There is a huge library, a garden and a greenhouse, dormitories, common areas, an auditorium, a chapel and more. The more you saw, the more you were impressed but the sneaking suspicion started to creep into the back of your mind that this is a cult and Secondo is the leader.

The tour ends in his office which is the same exact color scheme of his room - black furniture with gold and green accent pieces. You are sitting across from him, your knee bouncing again as he looks you over from his side of the desk.

“Are you afraid, cara?” He finally speaks up, brows furrowing.

“I’m… stressed. I mean, this isn’t typically how one-night stands go, ya know? I should be home by now, I think.” You’re frowning at him, trying to convey how uncomfortable you are. He doesn’t seem too phased by it.

“You want to go home, cara?”

“Yes.” You sigh deeply. “I have been asking you all morning when I can leave, Secondo. This isn’t right; you can’t just force someone to stay here if they don’t want to.” 

“I don’t think you actually want to go home.” Secondo sneers, then stands up and walks to the front of his desk, just in front of you. He leans back on the desk, his feet settling between yours. 

“Are you serious?!”  You are practically screaming now, your face twisted in anger as you jump to your feet. “You don’t even fucking know me.” You have the urge to shove him but you refrain, instead cross your arms in front of your chest with a huff.

“Oh, but I do, cara.” Secondo reaches out and snatches you by the chin. You try not to seem phased by it but you can’t help but widen your eyes at his grip. “You’re bored of your life. That is why you agreed to that date, no?” The corner of his lips curl into a barely there smile.

You say nothing and clench your jaw against his grasp. Does he want a pat on the back for pointing out something so painfully obvious? Still, you can feel your cheeks start to heat up from his gaze and his touch. 

“You are curious, as well. Curious enough to follow a mysterious old man into a dive bar.” His thumb brushes over your lips and you can’t help but part them at the touch.

“You’re not that old. Plus, you were much more charming last night.” You want to sound confident but the words come out rushed and quiet. He slips his thumb into your mouth and pressed down on your tongue. An involuntary moan spills from your lips.

“I think you like me this way, dolcezza.” Secondo leans in close and removes his thumb from your mouth. You suck in a quick breath as his hand moves to the back of  your head. “It’s what made you follow me last night.” His fingers twist into your hair and he pulls you forward, pressing his lips to yours. 

The kiss is gentle, his soft lips moving against yours. You pull away and meet his gaze, almost getting lost in his sparkling white eye. You’re still frustrated, of course, but he was right, you are drawn to him in a way that’s hard to explain. You are quick to kiss him again, this time more forceful to assert control,, your tongue invading his mouth.

Secondo makes a surprised noise, his grip on your hair tightening as he kisses you back. He slips his hand down between your legs and presses his palm firmly against your cunt through your pants. You give a soft gasp and he takes the opportunity to suck on your tongue. All illusions of you being in control slip away at that moment. You’re putty in his hands.

“Come back to my quarters and let me show you other reasons to stay.” He purrs against your lips as he slowly rubs his palm against your cunt. You whine and you’re at a loss for words. You manage to nod your head and he grins, showing off his sharp white teeth.

Secondo quickly spins you around and you huff at the loss of contact. His hands rest on your shoulders and he starts to guide you from his office. You feel like you’re on autopilot, your feet pattering along the tiled hallway. 

The moment the two of you make it inside his room, he pulls you flush against him, your back against his chest. Secondo slips down your stomach and toys with the band of your sweatpants. You slide your hand around his neck and tip your head up to him, lips brushing against his jaw.

“Mia luna.” Secondo hums and pushes his hand down your pants. He swipes his fingers across your slick folds and your body shudders at the sensation. “When I’m done with you, you’ll never want to leave.” He hisses into your ear and slips a finger inside you. 

“Fuck.” You pant and give a soft groan as he curls his finger just so. Secondo chuckles against you, then dips down to your neck, planting wet kisses down it as he slips another finger in. Your back arches and you feel his hard cock through his robes against your ass. A shuddered breath leaves your lips as he picks up his pace, thrusting his fingers in and out, curling at just the right spot. 

He slides his hand underneath your shirt and starts to massage one of your breasts. Your eyes squeeze shut and your jaw goes slack. Secondo hums against your neck, teeth grazing it and then gives it a soft bite. You moan deeply, your hand pulling him even further into you. He grunts into your neck as he pushes another finger inside you and uses his other hand to pinch at your nipple.

You’re barely hanging on by a thread, moans spilling from your lips as he continues to thrust his fingers. He seems to know exactly how to make your toes curl, your head spin, your body tremble just with his fingers. 

“Will you come for me?” Secondo whispers into your neck, then seals his lips to it and roughly sucks. Your hips jerk wildly against his fingers and you tilt your head back, resting it on his shoulder. “Will you, mia luna?” He didn’t have to ask you again, a strangled sob spilling from your lips as you reached your peak.

You don’t have much time to recover. Secondo picks you up around your waist and tosses you onto the bed, losing your pants in the process. You squeak as your ass hits the bed and he’s quickly kneeling in front of you. You manage to reach and tug at his robes, and he gladly helps you remove them. They drop to the floor in a heap, revealing a tight black t-shirt and even tighter briefs.

You’re finally able to get a good look at his face: the paint on the lower half of his face is smeared into a gray and you can see a little bit of his pink lips peeking through. Secondo’s fingers toy with the hem of your sweatshirt and you can’t help but wrap your legs around him and try to pull him in closer.

He nips at your jaw and then pushes your sweatshirt over your head, tugging it off and tossing it onto the floor. His hands are still gloved and he runs them up your back as he kisses down your chest. You rest your hand on his shoulders, then lightly drag your fingers to his neck. Secondo moans softly against you and you can feel the vibrations in your chest.

You suck in a breath as his lips close around one of your nipples, flicking his tongue against it. His fingers dig into your back and your head lolls back on your shoulders. He lets go of your nipple, lathing his tongue across it again before continuing to kiss down your stomach while his hands move down to your hips.

Secondo settles his face between your legs, looking up at you with dark eyes as his lips brush against your inner thigh. Your legs are already trembling and you move your hands to grip at the edges of the bed. He licks across your folds, moaning at the taste, and presses his face firmly against you.

His tongue dips inside you and your hips buck at the pressure. He grabs your legs and positions them over his shoulders, your heels digging into his back as he sinks his tongue even deeper inside you. You throw your head back, a loud, shameless moan spilling from your lips. Secondo digs his fingers into your hips, moving his lips up to seal around your clit.

“Secondo!” You whine as your heels press even hard into your back. You can feel him chuckle against you but he doesn’t stop. He swipes his tongue roughly against your clit over and over again while your leg muscles start to spasm. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You gasp, your chest heaving. Secondo growls again against you and this sends you over the edge again, tears stinging your eyes as you cum.

Secondo brings himself to his feet, lazily stroking himself through his briefs as you come down from your orgasm. He reaches for your chin with his free hand, running his thumb along your already parted lips. You’re panting heavily, your eyes watery as they drift up to his. The corners of your lips twitch into a small smile at the sight of him.

His eyes are blown wide with lust and you can see a blush peeking out from underneath his paint. You manage to lean up and run your fingers down his chest and stomach. He groans quietly, squeezing himself through his briefs. You move his hand away from his cock and tug his briefs down, his length springing free.

Your eyes flit up to his face and his mouth drops open as you grab him by the base. You lick the precum off his tip, a moan rumbling from his chest. Secondo moves his hand to grab you by the hair and forces you down his length. You hum around his length, your tongue running along the underside of it. His hips jerk into your mouth, his cock hitting the back of your throat and you can’t help but gag.

He yanks you off of him, a line of spit connecting your mouth and his cock. Your eyes are wide and you’re worried that you’ve done something wrong. That is, until he grabs you and pushes you down onto your back. He thrusts himself into you without warning and you scream, your nails scratching at his chest. Secondo’s hips are snapping ferociously into you, his thighs slapping hard against your ass.

“Fuck, Secondo!” You cry out, your voice hoarse from how much you’ve been screaming for him. He captures your lips, kissing you hungrily as he growls into your mouth. Your arms loop around his shoulders and you scratch at the base of his neck. 

“You like this, dolcezza?” He snarls between labored breaths. “You like when I fuck you into the mattress?” Secondo’s teeth tug at your bottom lip as you babble a series of “yes’s”. His hips stutter, jerking wildly as he reaches his climax. He buries himself deep inside of you and growls deep in his throat as he cums, spilling his seed. 

You’re left gasping beneath him, your chest heaving against his. Secondo picks his head up, looking at you with heavy-lidded eyes. He traces his gloved finger across your cheek with such tenderness. Your hands slide down his shoulders to his chest, running your fingers through his chest hair. He leans in and kisses you, a soft, gentle kiss that makes your heart flutter in your chest.

“Mia luna.” He mutters against your lips, then tilts his head up to press a kiss to your forehead. “I have some work to tend to, dolcezza. Would you like a shower?” Secondo’s nose brushes against yours, a soft smile playing on his lips. You try to speak but you’re unable to form words, only being able to mumble an affirmative. His lips pull into an even wider smile as he helps you to a sitting position.

***

You wrap yourself in a towel, your hair still wet as you step back into the bedroom. Secondo is gone. You take the opportunity to finally check your phone. There are several text messages waiting for you, one of which is your date from last night apologizing profusely about standing you up (some kind of emergency happened or whatever), and another from your friend you shared your location with, alerting you that you are at a satanic church.

“Good to know.” You mutter, tossing your phone onto the bed. Your gaze travels around the room before settling on the door. A quick beat goes by before you’re walking towards it, hand reaching out for the knob. You turn it. 

Unlocked.

A million thoughts start to flood your brain as you consider making a run for it. You quickly move back to the bed, changing into a new pair of sweats and crewneck that was left for you. An odd sense of anxiousness starts to fall over you as you eye up the door. Part of you is ready to go while another part is curious… curious if this was a trap and also curious as to what would happen if you just stayed… a bit longer. 

You lay down on the bed, stretching out your limbs as your brain is torn completely in half by trying to decide what to do. After a while, you end up falling asleep wrapped in Secondo’s comforter.

***

When you wake up, it’s already dark outside. You rub your eyes and sigh softly, thinking that you’ve probably missed your chance at escape. At this point, you’re not sure that’s a bad thing.

Your attention drifts to the window and you see him, not far off smoking a cigarette outside. You run your fingers through your hair and try to straighten out your sweatshirt. It’s bunched up and crumpled from taking a hard nap. You are teetering on the edge of going back to sleep or going outside to him. The pull from him ends up being too strong and you end up finding yourself walking slowly along the path to him.

You silently walk up beside him and he gives a soft grunt as a greeting. Secondo’s arm slides around your waist and pulls you to his side. “Mia luna, buona sera.” You can smell the smoke on his breath as he presses his nose to your cheek. You lean into his touch with a dreamy smile, still riding high off of the time you spent with him earlier in the day.

The moon is shining brightly like it had been the night before and the two of you stand, gazing at it in silence for a little while. “I do not offer membership here to just anyone, dolcezza.” Secondo muses, breaking the silence as he flicks his cigarette to the ground. He grinds his heel down on it, quickly putting it out. “I think you would thrive. You would be amongst other curious minds. Learn new skills and subjects.” His nose presses into your cheek again and you can feel that he’s smiling. “Plus, we would be able to have each other whenever we want.”

You feel the heat rise to your cheeks and offer a small giggle. “I still… have to think about it, you know.” You tilt your head so that your eyes meet his. The white eye is so bright in the darkness but his expression is much softer despite the scowling paint.

“Of course, dolcezza.” Secondo leans down to peck a kiss to your cheek. “You can leave whenever you like but…” He brings his hand up to stroke at your jaw. “I would like to spend another night with you in my arms, mia luna.” 

***

You left. You had to. You couldn’t just up and leave your life at the drop of a hat, even with how tempted you were to do it. But you had a job, a roommate and plants to take care of at your apartment. Plus, you didn’t want anyone to think you were sacrificed at the local satanic church either.

The weeks drag on. You end up going out on a date with the guy who stood you up (due to an emergency). He’s nice and you make plans to see each other again, and then again. Work is boring but at this point you are resigned to do the bare minimum in order to get that paycheck. You hang out with friends every so often and also spend plenty of time in your room watching your beloved reality tv shows.

Things are fully back to normal in your life despite the small detour. But, you often find yourself drifting off during your day at work or when you’re out with friends, or even when you’re on a date back to the time you spent with Secondo. Nothing has felt quite as thrilling as that night. Not even the more you get to know your new boytoy. 

You feel like you’ve been on autopilot for sometime when you start to feel that pull again. It’s been there, deep in the back of your mind since you left but it grows stronger by the day. The more bored you feel, the more you want to leave it all behind and go back. You’re almost annoyed with how Secondo has wormed his way into your brain.

Almost.

If you were actually annoyed, you wouldn’t be packing your bags right now. You wouldn’t be carefully wording a text message to your date. You wouldn’t have put in your notice at work that you were leaving. You wouldn’t be boarding an uber right now to go back to the ministry.

When you arrive, there are people in black masks ready to help you with your bags. It’s like they already knew you were coming somehow. They guide you to your new quarters. It was smaller than the room in your apartment you shared but it was quiet and it was yours. You start to unpack and organize your things when you hear a knock at your door.

It’s him. You know it’s him. He’s in his robes and mitre, face paint as scowly as ever but you can see the light smile on his face and the brightness in his eyes.

“Ah, mia luna, I knew you would come.”

[crying-fantasies]

Talk with carrier

Masterlist

The surface on the planet doesn't let much to the imagination, there is no living things here, not even an atmosphere, dust is all that settled, maybe a rock or two in the horizon.

But you're here, sitting at his side, a little smile on your face, listening to his ranting: "I still don't get what you saw in him".

At his words, you only smile.

"Why?"

"His paint job was tacky, it still is, but in a very much old man way", what a fast response, "it's shouting for attention, as in look at me I'm the cool religious guy kind of tacky".

"Your own screams edgy and angsty to the heavens above".

You giggle at that, Sunset looks at Moonshine, the disrespect, "Bro, really? I'm having a moment here".

"Better make it fast, they'll notice we're gone pretty soon"

"No offense Moonie, but your presence...", He makes a so-so manner with his servo, being as sassy as he can, his paint job is sacred; Moonshine just smiles like he never broke a damn thing in his life before flipping him the middle digit, you shove your hand at Sunshine before he has the time to respond in the same way, like a reprimanding mother to her child.

Like you would do if you were really alive, really here.

"Show some manners"

"Right, sorry, but you gotta admit he is a piece of-"

"He is but he is a good friend to you, isn't he?"

The very same friend does a crooning sound at it and Sunset has to shut his intake if he doesn't want to be reprimanded, again, "How did you come from such a sweet and kind organic?"

"I learned half of my bad words assets from this very side of the family, not cute in the slightest", he cuts short that conversation, now looking directly at the eyes that resemble his, or is it the other way around?, "Now, again, why did you like his paint job? Direct answers only".

You seem to ponder on it, Sunset wants to believe that's the reason and not the system running of the golden disk to give him an answer, "His paint job draws a lot of attention, but I liked that it was his own".

"His own, what do you mean by that?"

"Can we cut this short and ask directly what can make him desirable to another specimen of our race?"

"Shut the fuck up-!"

"Is this about a someone?", You ask, before touching his servo, hope or what could be sensed like it glimmering in your eyes, "I knew this day would come".

Ah, he really wanted to see that excitement on your eyes, no an imitation done by computer, but it was great so far.

No one can have everything in life, and he should speed this up if he didn't want his scandalous sire on the way to what used to be a clinic to offline mechs, only because he wanted to know a little bit more of you, even if just a bit, even if is only a simulation, as your golden disk feeds the way you tell him all he wants to know.

[herharmonyenemy]

ACOTAR Headcanons

Rhys: 

Has had a skincare routine since he was a teenager. His mother taught him. 

And hair care (gels n everything)

Has like 15 university diplomas. 

Waxes. 

Has the highest bodycount. Everyone wanted to sleep with the crown prince (then highlord), and being as arrogant as he was, knew he had the females (and males) head over heels for him.

Plays piano because he’s a rich spoiled old money kid

To this day he sometimes blurts out some unchecked spoiled comment without realizing it. Cassian punches him as part of the deal. Once the archerons caught on, they also take turns. 

He once got a face piercing (nose/lips) just to spite his father. He got punished but kept it until he became highlord. 

Did a lot of things to spite his father actually. Including but not limited to: growing his hair out, dying his hair, getting a diploma in something not very legacy/bloodline like (sports medicine?), painted his nails (black ofc), got drunk in poor people bars like Nesta (when she learns about this…), and started wearing his shirts open to show his chest (which stuck until present day). 

Does in fact read smut. The best way for him to learn is by reading, so teenage rhys decided to read about sex to be better. It worked, but he got an interest in smut and still reads from time to time. Nesta never lets him live it down for the rest of their lives. 

Is the kind of person to correct your spelling and grammar. However, someone once did it to feyre and he responded that as the person to teach her to read, he is the one to correct her. 

Gift giving is his love language. 

Would watch game of thrones in modern and criticize every move. 

Doesn’t know how to do any chores. Feyre forces him to learn 

Doesn’t like animals only because he formed a bond with a dog when he was younger and when something happened (died/ran away) he cried and his dad told him to man up and it’s only a dog 

Out of all the highlords, he’s the worst at controlling his beast once it’s out but he’s the best at keeping it in 

Knows other languages (as hofas proved)

Is actually religious. 

Is a clean freak. Doesn’t even sit on the bed with his everyday work clothes unless sheet are already going to be changed. 

Had a stuffed animals that he brought to the Illyrian camps when he was 8. Cas learned and threw it off a cliff. Cas gave another stuffie for rhys’s 18 birthday, which was put on a shelf for the next 5 centuries. Nyx now plays with it. 

Picky about food. Feyre jokes that it’s a red flag. Once Rhys learn human slang and what a red flag is, he fixes it. Although Feyre laughs when he makes a face at the brussels sprouts.

Gets his fashion sense from his father, who also likes high quality pieces. 

Also gets his eyes from his father. 

Has toxic dating history that az and cas disapprove and hate 

He was like Simon from Bridgerton as a child: He learned to speak very late, which is why his father was borderline abusive and didn’t pay attention to him. He didn’t learn to speak until right before he went to the camps. Only amren knows, but rhys told feyre after nyx was born. 

Actually the nerd of the group but he hides it 

Wins the prize for best mouth action

Insecure about his ears since he grew up around Illyrians 

The first to learn how to tie shoes, so he was the designated shoe tie-er. Many jokes were made about the crown prince on his knees, mainly through Cas.

Az:

least body count - but he could actually hold a relationship for longer then one night.

As we already know, the kindest bat boy

Trims. 

Also got piercings with rhys so he wouldn’t be alone. 

Writes in all caps 

Doodles when he’s doing something on autopilot 

Knows hand placement 

Drinks way too much coffee

Had the most pimples as a teenager. 

He was the most romantic out of the three. While cas and rhys were going through their “never getting married, forever the bachelor life” phase, az was still after romance. 

Loves bread 

Loves loves loves traveling 

Is good at gymnastics 

Very good at winged eyeliner. When it’s eyeliner time, everyone goes to either az or feyre

Wins the price for best downstairs action

Likes watching the sunset

Always wins the scavenger hunts cas organizes 

Cas: 

once had a buzz cut. Happened because of a dare but he ended up being fine with it. 

Au natural

Has worst handwriting but doesn’t care. Rhys complains that it’s so bad he can’t read it (he can) 

Wears a chain necklace from time to time. After mating, he doesn’t take it off. (Nesta likes when it swings in her face) 

Out of the three, has the highest rice purity score. Az is kinky, and rhys is up for anything. 

Makes the most dad jokes 

LOVES fruits. And veggies. Eats the healthiest out of the three. 

Morning person. He used to wake up rhys and az at the crack of dawn to go hiking. 

He has a hair care routine - more complicated than rhys. Those locks aren’t just magically there. He oils his hair at least once a week. 

Wins the prize for best hand action 

Insecure about his nose 

Best at making scavenger hunts 

Has slow metabolism so whenever he eats really fast he falls asleep right after the energy high

Once used az’s toothbrush to annoy him, ended up using rhys’s. Being the clean freak he is, this started a war among them. 

100% takes dramatic showers like those scenes in movies

All three: 

on the camp, there was another trio that was everything they weren’t (pure blood illyrians from a noble line, got favored). The day comes when those three meet the archerons and the girls think they just want to be friends and the boys get jealoussss

Rhys takes them shopping. He’s up on the mini stage getting measured and tailored and cas is drinking on a couch. This is their gossip and complain time. 

They all speak Illyrian when they want to speak secretly. They never taught mor no matter how many times she asked because “it is a boys club” thing 

The archerons catch on and they eventually learn with help from bat boys, who then momentarily regret it because they don’t have a secret language anymore, but it’s the archerons who know crack the dirtiest jokes in Illyrian. 

When they were younger, they would share notes via this charmed journal that would winnow to whichever one wanted to write in it. Centuries later one of the archerons finds it and the boys jump over each other to get it from the girls cause it’s filled with teenaged thoughts (another headcanon)

They have a synchronized dance 

They used to have beach days but gradually stopped. They started again once the sisters said they have never been to the beach

They used to share a bed when they were younger. It was a hard fit, but rhys slept in the middle since he can disappear his wings. 

Cas and az didn’t leave rhys alone the first week he was highlord. Even in moments of silence. One of them was always within arms reach

They slap each others butt. At first it was a joke, but it became a competition of who could surprise slap the hardest. 

Once, az’s ex made moves on rhys, and rhys took the chance. This lead to the biggest fight between the two (up until the elain situation) until cas asked if they were going to let a girl get in between them. They made up and the next day rhys found out she was only with him for the power. Az comforted him when he cried. 

Engaged in locker room talk. Shared tips on sex. 

Rhys and az wear eyeliner/kohl on special but informal parties. Cas always smudges it so he’s quit. 

[keyh0use]

can i have more latin barry head canons!!!

For you? Anything ♡ Barry's first gen; his parents moved to the U.S when he only a few years old.

♡ Up until the point of leaving, Barry and his parents lived with his abuela.

♡ The family of three moved into a lower income neighbourhood where people were a lot more standoffish than they were used to and Barry had to learn how to defend himself too young.

♡ The first couple years of school were difficult for Barry and he would often be sent to the nurse for chest pain, his lack of accommodation for the language barrier causing frequent anxiety attacks.

♡ This prompted Barry to check out library book after library book to practice because paper wouldn't laugh at him for stumbling over words. That's also when his love for reading was first ignited. ♡ Barry's parents were very hard workers, but they always took time off for his birthdays and competitions and concerts.

♡ Which, speaking of, Barry was always rewarded for achievements with a toy from the dollar store or a happy meal (:

♡ Barry was taught to be independent from a very young age. How to cook, clean, groom himself were all just a part of everyday lessons.

♡ Even though his parents were learning English at their own pace, Barry attended every appointment because like hell was he going to let anyone take advantage of his mama and papa. ♡ Making his parents proud has always been a core part of his life; aiming for great grades and good impressions on elders. ♡ Barry's family back home constantly keep him updated on their lives + the village news, sending him videos of festivals going on and captioning it with things like can't wait till you visit! ♡ Easily gives up any dream of going to post-secondary school in favour of joining the military to help his family out

♡ Religiously watches a popular telenovela because it's a way to connect with his abuela, the two talking for hours after each episode ♡ Barry blasts music while cleaning just like his mother always did ♡ Whenever Barry talks to his cousins, they're always poking fun at his spanglish ♡ Barry receives handmade gifts every year; curtains, knitted sweaters, paintings ♡ Growing up in a childhood home so full of light and love, he often worried while all alone in the OBX he would never be able to replicate it for the family he creates. ♡ Which wasn't really a big deal because Barry had always been so focused on chasing money to be concerned with dating, despite his family bothering him about when he would finally settle down. But all that changed when he met Rafe, obviously. Turns out he was worried about nothing, naturally Barry is good at reassurance and comforting and keeping his mouth shut, able to handle the boy he wants to spend his life with because loving Rafe is as easy as breathing ♡ Barry knew he had nothing to worry about when he told his abuela. Still, he could barely choke down his overflowing emotions when all she did was make a comparison between him and Rafe and one of the couples on their show. ♡ Big families always have conflicts and differing opinions. So it's no surprise he was sick to his stomach about every aunt, uncle and cousin finding out he's with another man and possibly driving an even bigger wedge between everyone than the giant distance. ♡ Everyone was accepting, though. (because if they weren't, well, they'd have to face Barry's best friend in the whole world; abuela) ♡ Grows his own spices on the windowsill ♡ Rafe is (though he wouldn't label himself as such) pescatarian. Sure, there are times when image makes him do unfavourable things like choke down tiny pieces of steak over dinner with his father but it's a one-off. Barry picked up on this really early into the relationship and makes him try stuff like ceviche and alters other traditional dishes to include seafood ♡ Barry practically burns his fingerprints off whenever he cooks, flipping food with his bare hands or not shielding himself while oil splashes. It drives Rafe insane ♡ Dotes on Rafe when the kook is sick; vegetable dishes only, vaporub seemingly everywhere, forcing him to keep hydrated ♡ Barry is romantic. He just is. That's not something that can be debated, sorry. ♡ He dances around the kitchen with Rafe in the kitchen while they're high, writes love letters while they're apart and feels like his heart is going to explode out of his chest when Rafe willingly joins him down at the docks to cuddle up while fishing ♡ Accepting money for product is one thing, accepting an expensive watch because his 13-year-old one has finally kicked the bucket out of pure love is entirely another. It takes Barry a long time to accept the fact Rafe expects nothing in return, just wants to shower him in gifts. ♡ Barry has a box under his bed with every birthday card his family has ever sent him. ♡ Hot rich boyfriend or not, Barry outright refuses to let Rafe cover all the bills. When they make their living arrangement official, they split the cost evenly and it's a giant stress-reliever. ♡ Rafe thought nothing could be hotter than Barry's drawl until he heard him go off in Spanish. It always slips in and out when Barry gets close and afterwards Rafe will make him translate, butchering the foreign words when Barry asks what I say, baby? ♡ Rafe does make a serious effort to learn, though <3 ♡ The first time Rafe spends the night at Barry's parents house he bites into imitation fruit that was on the kitchen table for display. At random times Barry will remember the look on his face and the teeth impressions on the plastic and how flustered he got trying to explain himself, and Barry absolutely loses his shit laughing for the millionth time

[theautisticgamer]

The Pomni Theory (The Amazing Digital Circus)

Who is Pomni? That's a question a lot of people have been trying to crack. And I assure you this isn't a take you've heard yet.

Let's first establish what she's not. Most assume she is a gamer, and at first glance this makes sense. After all, why put on a VR headset if you're not one? Except there is an important clue that shows us this probably isn't true. As a gamer myself, I would not be immediately trying to take this headset off. As a gamer, I want to play this game for a bit, meet its cast, do some missions, especially considering how innovative this tech was for the late 90s-early 2000s when the show is set. Yet she is not excited about this experience in any way shape or form; Pomni immediately tries to rip off the headset. Some may say this is because of her amnesia, but if she remembers sitting at the desk and putting on the headset, surely she would have remembered wanting to put it on if she was a gamer. I think this rules out her being a game developer as well; would she be this startled by her work? She doesn't display nearly as much knowledge about the digital realm as some of the other amnesiac humans. But if she's not a gamer or a game developer, what is she, and what is her motive for putting on the headset?

I think an important hint regarding her character could be a piece of disturbing concept art created by Gooseworx, depicting Pomni on a crucifix, as well as the show's ending scene depicting Pomni at the center of a long table, which looks like the painting of The Last Supper. Both imagery compare Pomni to the likeness of Jesus Christ. I don't think this reference is religious per-say, this jester can't save you from your sins, but with The Amazing Digital Circus's story being inspired by an agnostic story, "I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream," the connection can't be ignored. This imagery suggests Gooseworx sees some sort parallel between them.

Whenever I've used imagery alluding to Jesus outside of my faith-based work, I've used it to indicate a character is making a sacrifice, putting their lives on the line and risking injury or death for the sake of others, imagery I've used or would use for soldiers, policeman, field agents, or firemen. That could mean Pomni is a one of these things, though I would skew this down to policeman, detective, or a private investigator. Pomni's motive to put on the headset, then, is to pursue the only lead in her file of many Missing Persons cases tied to the C&A company. Her sacrifice, for the sake of the imagery, is unknowingly putting her safety and life at risk in order to solve the cases, bring their families closure, and if possible rescue the missing people themselves.

However, I've been chewing on my initial theory a bit more, and I may have a second theory for the imagery that's probably more likely. Who is Jesus? He is the son of God, He is the son of the Creator. Could she be the daughter of creator of the game? Could she be the daughter of one of the partners who created C&A? While I'm more compelled by this theory, it lacks a motive as to why she'd put on the headset. Was she at her father or mother's office for a visit, found a headset and was just curious, expecting it was just a funny pair of glasses she could take off immediately just to find it didn't come off?

This latter theory may or may not have extra support. Gooseworx drew a short non-canon comic where Caine discusses with Pomni that he and her mother were getting a divorce. It spurs on a series of silly jokes, but, it's odd to set up Pomni as Caine's daughter or stepdaughter in the first place, isn't it? Unless Caine was a symbolic placeholder for a father-figure who created the game or the company that produced it. I also feel like Pomni originally being intended to be a male lead during early concepts supports the "son of the creator" idea. They may have switched to a female to make this connection less obvious for a bigger reveal later on.

Keep in mind that this is just a theory based off the recent pilot and may fall apart as we get more information in future episodes of the show, in future interviews with Gooseworx or Glitch Productions employees, etc.

But alas, these are just two theories regarding the identity of Pomni. I've been wanting to write TADC theory material for a while, and the show's given me so much to think about. Do you think I may be on the right track about Pomni's identity, or have theories of your own? I'd love to hear from you in the comments.

[jessamine-rose]

As your common mythology enjoyer I always adore seeing the way myths evolve and transform through the times and end up adapting to the people’s views and needs.

Since any good mythological pantheon has its own clashing sources, do you think there would have been some myths pertaining to Savior’s and Oizys’s relationship? Even though it is quite clear that they had a strong friendship that is never stopping the people from fantasising and over glamorising their dynamic into something leaning more towards the romantic?

I don’t know why but ever since seeing Pierro’s heated reaction after his battle with that corrupted version of Oizys… I couldn’t stop wondering how would he react if some of his subordinates discovered some rather… interesting representations of both those deities during their glory days… (I pity his subordinates sm sometimes)

I’m mainly bringing this up because I’ve recently had to do some research concerning art in Ancient Greece and Rome and the things those people would depict in public spaces or simply in their art is wild 😭

Read my Yandere! Pierro fics first!!

Disjecta Membra ✧ Chess Piece

Naturally, there are several references to Savior and Oizys’s millennia-long friendship. On the tamer end of the spectrum, they often appear in each other’s religious art. A pair of figures in pottery fragments. The recurring motif of mist in paintings of the Child of Night. Myths of their first meeting, their glory days, Oizys’s role in Savior’s birthday festivals, etc.

Those artifacts don’t really bother Pierro. He already knows that they were close in the past, and why should he feel threatened by a ghost? And the more relics of his darling, the better, right? The romantic interpretations of their relationship say otherwise.

A few ancient texts call them “lovers.” Another cites their living arrangement as the guide to a proper marriage. One sculpture imagines them mourning Pasithea’s death…in a rather intimate embrace. And according to ancient Miserian tradition, gifting someone embroidery is equal to a love confession. The origins for the last one are long-forgotten, but Pierro easily connects it to Savior’s craft and Oizys’s fashion choices.

The last straw is the erotic art. To think that Pierro used to “appreciate" artworks of Savior in her old, skimpy attire; now he glares at Oizys’s indecent figure and tells his subordinates to erase it. Come to think of it, didn’t Savior once say that they shared a bed?

One day, he casually mentions it to Savior and her immediate reaction is laughter. Yes, those misunderstandings exist. Sure, there were a few times that she and Oizys satisfied each other’s physical needs, but lovers? No, they were dear friends and that was their preferred label. And Pierro would’ve been satisfied with that answer had she left it at that.

“Funnily enough, Vesta and I were never portrayed as lovers even though we were. Probably because most humans thought we were related—um, Pierro? Why are you looking at me like that?”

The next day, the Fatui is given orders to destroy every temple and relic belonging to the Lord of the Hearth.

♡

As a fellow mythology enjoyer, I had a lot of fun writing this. Thank you for sending this ask, Anonie (⭒•͈ 𓎺 •͈ )

[noelclover]

Since I can actually type things out here on Tumblr I'll talk about the process of making this pic. I saw the muscle adoration clips and wanted to draw something funny. Wall of text under cut.

The initial idea was to go for a religious feeling, with Tenma looking up as muscled angels pose at her, with Sakana and Lumi coming from the bottom, apologetic and armed with spray bottles.

Then I removed Sakana from the idea as he didn't need to be there.

I decided early on that I didn't wanna draw too many muscled characters, and though the initial idea was to be more art nouveau, with flourishes and such, I figured it would be funnier if I played up the religious feeling. I went through a bunch of images, thought about Caravaggio, but figured that the best thing to do would be to paint the creation of Adam.

I spent a lot of time admiring Michelangelo's work, it was a humbling experience.

I decided to add some elements because I thought a plain take of the creation of Adam would be boring, also because Michelangelo framed the piece with pillars, which made me think I should probably play to that.

A plain coloured background and marble effects were chosen because it's easy to paint marble and because I think it would give a feeling similar to a church, hopefully it captured a quiet and dignified sense of beauty.

It went pretty smoothly at first.

Then Lacrimosa played, but it all worked out at the end.

[illarian-rambling]

Happy WBW!

(I'm working to the response to your questions, it might take a couple of days. I'm trying to do an abridged version (2,600 years), but the file is already 5 pages long.)

Since you asked me about symbolism, I'll ask you the same thing. What sort of plant and animal symbolism exists in your setting?

I mean, take all the time you want :)

A lot of common symbolism on Illaros has to do with religious and mythic figures. Given that each Illarian god has a mental and physical domain, they tend to be linked symbolically. For example, a river reed is commonly used to express fidelity, while a tree is frequently found on signs for libraries and other places of study. This is because Loqang is the god of both rivers and loyalty, while Maza is the god of forests and wisdom.

Sometimes, symbols from a particular god end up applying to many things over time. Doshu is the god of caves and treachery, and is sometimes also known as the god of the damned, as he is a phychopomp for evil souls. His most well-known symbol is an eye with two pupils peering out from a black circle. While originally, the eye of Doshu was just a ward against betrayal priests would sometimes draw, by its connotation, it has grown to be a symbol for anything unsavory. It's like the obligatory skull and cross bones of Illaros.

Some symbolism is less direct. Or, at least, it used to be more direct but important context has been forgotten.

Most Illari literature comes out of Skysheer. The mountain elves have a long history of storytelling and the arts. Many of the most famous paintings and influential novels are Skysheerian. Some thousand years ago, novel-writing Skysheerians included a lot of religious symbolism, much like their Janazi (at the time, the Illarian religion was practiced only on the Janazi Archipelago) counterparts. However, the Skysheerian religion was wiped out in the War of Conquest. Yet, even if their gods are dead and forgotten, a lot of symbolism remains behind as an echo. Many classical Skysheerian heroes have ears of gold. A spider in a painting signals impending doom. Dragons as hoarders of gold is a trope that comes solely from Skysheer. The scream of a lynx is often used in theater during moments of desperate emotion. The reason for these symbols has been lost for generations, yet they remain nonetheless. Given the widespread appeal of Skysheerian culture, many of these symbols have been adopted for wider use.

Going back even further, the sun is pretty universally a symbol of good, even in nocturnal cultures like goblins. Murals dug from the sands of Araun feature rays of sunlight shielding people, so this trend is at least several thousand years old. Many religions feature the sun as some sort of god-home or final afterlife. There could be many reasons for this, including the prehistoric influence of the Araunian Empire, but also, the people of Illaros have a tiny piece of the divine in all of them, granted by a being that lives in the sun. So, just maybe, a little part of them recognizes where they came from.

In a more meta answer, I, as the author, like to use stars as a symbol of Bad Things Happening, because stars on Illaros are kinda wack. So if a character remarks on how bright the stars seem, it's probably not a good sign. I also frequently associate magic and fabric (likely because of Twenari and Astra's particular connections to both of these things), so yeah, lots of metaphors there.

Thanks for the ask, I hope this is as entertaining to read as it was to write!