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#ANON I AM SCREAMING
maimochies · 1 month
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https://twitter.com/X_star_n/status/1760528800142721434
https://twitter.com/mya19951213/status/1760308021421621432
https://twitter.com/millecreupe/status/1760605134495838467
😭😭😭 here the posts of them finding it out
this is actually insane he's such a FREAK
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as a fellow deluyuyu looking out for another deluyuyu.. do NOT look at Yunho's Saitama Day 2 pictures 💀🧎🏻‍♀️🕳 we don't have the hotteok health insurance!!
bro.
YOU'RE TELLING ME WE WITNESSED THE YIPPLE???? HE ACTUALLY BROKE THE WALL DFKJGHJDFHGJKDF
AND HE LOOKED THIS HOT ANYWAY???
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I. AM. NOT. OKAY.
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modmad · 6 months
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MINDGRAIND YEEEEOOOOWCH
message that sounds like this image:
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crystallizsch · 1 month
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anon that said they wanted to kiss jamil on the lips here . I FEEL BAITED :(
AAAH SORRY okay one kiss :D (and i’m kinda in a writing mood so uh)
if you wanna kiss mr jamil viper, don’t worry. i’d like to think he would just ask you straight-up so you don't have to do anything. one day, both of you would just be taking a stroll just chatting. but he had something else on his mind. you two had never actually kissed before. and he wanted to try it out. it was a weird thought. and he tried to ignore it. but the more he did, the more it kept him awake at night. so he finally decided that he wanted to give it a shot. there was no point adding unnecessary stress thinking about it. you two were close enough, right? he’d assess the mood first to make sure. it was the usual banter so that was good. and then he'd finally bring up the courage to finally ask you. "Hey, Prefect... Would you mind if we kissed?" you laugh because you were taken aback. before jamil could take your reaction in a wrong way, you agree with a sweet smile. good job, that laugh and that smile ruined the composure he had built up earlier. it's not showing on his face, but his flushed cheeks say otherwise. regardless, jamil cups your cheeks in his hands once he was given permission. you gaze at each other. you see that there was a softness in his eyes. at the back of your mind you thought of his signature spell that he could have easily used on you. the fact that he hasn't speaks volumes about his feelings towards you. you both slowly lean in towards one another and your lips met in a soft and tender kiss. it was quick and brief but it felt like forever. as you both pulled apart, you rested your foreheads against one another in a state of bliss. you two could get used to this.
happy valentines :3 anyways, i had an alternate vision before this with my yuu (imagine he's saying a shitty pick-up line)
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this was their first attempt. they're such cringefail losers.
(part one right here)
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cuubism · 1 year
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A little headcannon that has been stewing in my head for a while and has absolutely no proof from the cannon
Death has wings right? What if Dream used to have wings too but when his kingdom got invaded for the first time(that story he tells in the Overture) the invaders cut his wings off. That's the part of the reason why he crafted his helm and why's he so dependent on it. They took his wings so he took their skull and a spine, an eye for an eye kind of situation. Also, that's when Dream first started employing a raven. He still has scars on his shoulder blades that follow him to any form he takes. He's ashamed of them, sees them as a sign of weakness, a reminder of his failure and his flaws and goes to great lengths to cover them up. That's about it, but I'd love to hear what you think of it^-^
(Plus: Hob gently running his hands over the scars, showing Dream his own ones and reassuring him that there's nothing broken, or wrong with him)
NO BUT THIS IS SO ANGSTY I LOVE IT. i love suffering
i feel like a permanent injury like that would have to be done to dream's core essence, such as it is, rather than his 'physical form' - i don't know if dream's physical form in the waking world or other realms can even be hurt like that. it would have to be like, something that deeply wounds the dreaming, or the concept of dreaming, or just like the deepest core of dream as an 'entity' rather than it being a physical wound. (this is leading me on a mental tangent about injuries to large groups of dreamers also injuring dream, like, extinction events and such, but that's for another time).
you managed to rope me into it, congrats XD
content warning for blood, gore, violence, Things Done That Can't Be Undone, etc.
--
There is not much, in his long life and memory, that Dream is able to forget. Thoughts do not drift into irrelevancy, into the past, the way they do for humans. He is able to hold much, all at once, in the cavern of his mind, eons of all that has happened hovering close enough to touch. It is a heavy weight more often than it is an aid.
But he forgets, sometimes, with Hob.
With Hob, the rare points of their contact stand out as singularly bright stars in the nebula of Dream's existence. All else within him fades. When Hob takes his hand Dream feels clear as a desert sky, when Hob kisses him for the first time, Dream is floating free in a great salt lake, hanging weightless.
He forgets.
It's only after, bodies pressed together with pleasing heat and sweat-tackiness, Hob tracing patterns over his back, that Dream begins to remember again.
"Dream..." Hob's fingers stutter over his shoulder blades. His voice catches with the hesitance he has often displayed with Dream since their reunion. I think you're here for friendship. Dream feels the echoes.
He kisses Hob's throat, tastes the salt tang of his skin, hides his face away there. The weight of embodiment returning. "Ask your question," he says. "I swear not to part from you now."
"Is this from...?" Hob's fingertips dance up the raised arcs of scar tissue over his back. Pain sparkles in the wake of his touch like the sharpness of a hand-drawn tattoo in the permanence of its inking. As humans imagine it. Dream is not truly physical and could not bear such a mark. Except for this.
"No," he tells Hob. Blame for many of Dream's recent ordeals can be laid at Roderick Burgess's feet, but not this one. "Much older than that."
"Oh." Hob keeps tracing the scar over Dream's right shoulder blade. The touch aches deep in Dream's being where those wounds originate, but he does not tell Hob to stop. Even like this, Hob's hands bring him back, and back, and keep him here.
Hob is waiting, leaving an opening for him to elaborate. Dream is not yet sure whether he wishes to.
"It is not a pretty story," he says.
Hob strokes through his hair. Dream keeps his head tucked under his chin and so feels each word as it's spoken. "Neither of us is a pretty story, darling. Tell it if you want to."
Dream has not spoken of this in many years. There are those in the Dreaming who have served him for millennia whom he has not told. He has taken lovers, had them see the scars during their lovemaking, and still not relayed the story.
"When I was young," he begins, "and still coming into my power, the Dreaming was invaded. My borders were not as strong, then. My realm, less populated. Ancient beings, older than I was at the time, hungered for my realm. Sought its power for their own."
"Older than dreams?" Hob asks.
"In their universe, there were no dreams," Dream tells him. "Perhaps it is what drew them to me."
"Alright. Wow." Hob sounds thoughtful. He rubs Dream's back, between his shoulder blades where it doesn't hurt. "Go on, love."
"I fought them. But the collective unconscious of this universe was young and undeveloped, as was I; I had not mastered all elements of my domain. I fought, but inelegantly, and struggled to counter dreamless beings when all my power was in the unconscious. They were wholly anchored in the present; I, in the space between seconds; we were poorly suited as combatants."
"What did you do?" Hob asks, quiet. He can sense, Dream thinks, the direction this is going, that Dream would not be so hesitant to tell the story of scars born of victory.
"I did not know," Dream admits, equally quiet, still shamed by it, his own failure, and its branching repercussions, "what to do. And the Eldest God, he who had first rent open the walls of my realm, pounced on my uncertainty, captured me, held me--"
The memory, never forgotten, always just within reach should he turn towards it, rises again -- the silk-smooth black sand on the shores of the Dreaming, crushed into his cheek; the warm waters lapping at his mouth, nose, eyes, drowning him; the impossible weight on his spine of the impossible dreamless creature holding him down, arms wrenched behind his back, the feral animal growl that had escaped him, the equally animal panic beating under his ribcage, the fragile spun dreamstuff of him held in the sharptoothed maw of cold reality, his wings--
"Dream?"
Dream comes back to himself. Comes back to Hob. The overwarm flannel sheets. The soft press of Hob's body. He's tapping something on Hob's arm, and hadn't realized he was doing it. It's the rhythm of an old song from before the time of men, the electrical beats passed along root chains from tree to tree to tree, all the way across the great forests that now exist only in scarce patches on the earth.
Dream shifts ever closer to Hob's body, slips a knee between Hob's thighs to tangle them, bare skin to bare skin, limb to limb, root to root.
"I had wings, then," he says.
--his wings, flapping frantically in the face of the thing that pinned him, feathers catching and tearing on jagged armor, held to the ground the way a creature of flight was never meant to be--
"Oh," breathes Hob. He touches the long scar over Dream's shoulder blade again and pauses there. The pain catches the story to Dream again like a hook and holds it there as he continues bleeding it dry.
"The Eldest God dug his claws into me and tore the wings from my body." Dream's voice doesn't shake but he does not manage more than a whisper. "I am not a physical creature, Hob, understand this, I cannot be so easily harmed, it was not a physical form that was damaged, rather, the Old Gods came from stone and earth and it was stone they harnessed as their claws, ancient stone to carve into my being and tear out my wings from the essence of me, root and stem, flesh and bone, air and feather and starlight."
All of this comes out in a continuous rush, and Hob kisses the side of his head, says, "Breathe."
He can still feel, if he but thinks back, the tearing of the claws. A cold so bright it felt like burning. His face ground into the sand to muffle his scream, the howling whiteout of pain overtaking all other noise, the crack of his shoulder joint as it was broken. Star stuff spilling out over the sand - Dream hadn't even known he could bleed until then. Hands that should never have touched in the first place releasing him. Collapsing, disarmed, to the ground. Every limb on fire, the ones that were left.
"Dream."
He lost himself, and found himself again some time later curled in the shallows of the Dreaming sea, seeking shelter from the cold in the warm waters. Face half submerged, breathing as much salt water as air. Blood still spooling around him like leftover paint whirling in a water glass.
"Dream."
Even in those warm waters, he was shivering. Dream doesn't think he's ever been quite warm since; that cold latched itself in him somewhere and never left.
Hob's voice, now, against his ear. He's curled himself around Dream while Dream wasn't paying attention, Dream's back to the warm protection of Hob's chest. "You don't have to finish if you don't want to."
Dream will not leave a story unfinished, not even one such as this. "When I had regained my strength enough to fight back," he continues, "I was... not in control. I knew only survival. If the Old Gods had wished me to understand their world, they succeeded. I abandoned my powers and fought with my hands and my claws and my teeth, and I tore the Eldest God's skull and spine from his body. Both of us would be maimed, I thought; if he would have my dreams then I would have for my own the backbone upon which he held his earth. I listened to him scream. I watched each rib pry up from his chest and snap, my hands slick with his blood, his with mine, and felt nothing but the raw satiation of a wolf setting upon meat. I have told you, Hob." He takes his first breath in a while and feels it rattle, hollow, around his ribcage. "It is not a pretty story."
"No." Hob's hand finds Dream's against his middle, tangles their fingers, holds him. His breath is shaky in Dream's hair, words more so. "No, darling, it's not. I'm sorry."
They rewrote the story of the Dreaming, Dream recalls saying to Destiny, after. Before he had come to know, truly, what Destiny was. Kneeling in his garden, blood still draping his raw back like a shroud, Dream had sought meaning, answers, reason. Foolish, in retrospect, to even consider asking for succor.
Destiny had said that the Dreaming had seeped too far into the Waking world. That what had happened was a necessary rebalancing.
Had Dream not been forbidden from physical violence against his siblings, he would have bitten off one of Destiny's hands with his own sharp teeth and asked if he felt more balanced then.
"Now you know what vicious creature you lie with, Hob Gadling," Dream says. The words are heavy in his throat, but he can't find it in himself to slip from Hob's hold. Now you know the jagged turn at the beginning of my story.
He wonders, sometimes, what the Dreaming might have been like had it continued on the other branch of Destiny's forking path. What he might have been like. There is so much space between a winged creature and a once-winged creature. The entire sky.
"I know." Hob bites at the back of Dream's neck, light but sharp, then kisses that same spot. The nip of pain is unexpectedly soothing. Hob too knows what it is to bite and claw and writhe and maul. “I know. I’ve known your darkness, honey. Don’t you worry.”
“They fled me,” Dream tells him. “The Old Gods. After. I did not understand why at the time.” He had stood, bloodied, shaking, over their Eldest one, bones grasped in his hands, and watched them disappear. These beings that could still have shredded the Dreaming and swallowed it, but chose to run. “Now, I imagine it is like the way men will flee from an animal that is so much smaller than them but has gone rabid. The wrongness. The danger of irreparable madness. They saw me ruined and wished not to catch it, saw the Dreaming—”
This wound has dulled over time and become but a throbbing ache at the base of his skull, a reminder of something missing. But it never disappears.
“The Dreaming, changed, from what they had wanted.”
Dream’s back has never been quite right, since. His anatomy is meant for two sets of joints, not one. But it is only a fitting marker of the permanent damage done that day.
“Changed?” says Hob, so gentle now, lips brushing his skin.
“There was once more,” Dream says. “The collective unconscious was once more… collective.”
“Wait. D’you mean…?”
“Yes. There was more interconnection between minds when I was young. There were not human minds in the sense that you would know them, not yet. But there was communication, and knowing, back then.”
Vestiges of it still linger. In the vast underground networks of the trees, the paired spins of distant atoms. The matched steps of lovers finding perfect synchronicity in a dance. But—
“That was sundered with my wings.”
The cold that had washed over Dream when that realization hit had been worse than the pain of losing the wings in the first place. How he had failed the dreamers under his care. Let things fracture and tear and separate when they were meant to be together.
Hob sighs against the back of his neck. “I’m so sorry, Dream.”
“I am sorry,” Dream says. “It should never have happened.”
“No, it shouldn’t,” Hob agrees, and it’s sweet pain sliding between Dream’s ribs, for Hob to press his fingertips to the rawness of him and say, yes, failure, failure, I see it now.
But Hob kisses the point of his shoulder, the ever-tense muscles of his upper back, the hard curve of his scapula and the calcified line of another almost-joint, lost to time. His lips find the uneven scar tissue and press there, which is its own sweet pain, but sliding towards sweet, a sharp bite to kissed lips.
“It shouldn’t,” Hob whispers, and the words vibrate to the core of him. Hob does not see his failure, will not; Dream had forgotten Hob’s charity towards him, how he will see the blood on Dream’s hands and wipe it away instead of asking how it got there. Dream’s failures have stolen something from him he does not even know to miss, and still.
Now Dream does wish for Hob’s hands slipping under his ribs. Hob would find the aching wretched thing within him that had been loosed that day and hold it in his palms, wash the blood from it with careful strokes. Would that Hob could have held him then, submerged him deep in the waters of the Dreaming sea until the dark and the warmth and the strong hold of his arms had soothed the flayed and violated creature that Dream had become back to sanity. Before the gnashing rageful part of him had turned predator and fully grown its claws.
Perhaps there is succor to be found, after all. How quickly Hob Gadling has become it.
“I wish that I could have…” Hob sighs. It sounds mournful, longing. “I don’t even know. Helped you. Held you. Futile, I know.”
“I would not have you feel badly. It is long past and cannot be undone,” Dream says, as if Hob’s words don’t mean more to him than he could possibly know.
“Nothing can, sweetheart,” Hob says. His hair brushes Dream’s shoulders. It is terribly soft now, in this day and age. Dream suspects it was not always so. Human lives have rarely been soft on their bodies. He appreciates the softness of Hob’s body now, and how it cradles him. Dream himself has long been unchangeably hard-edged. “But I would still help you.”
“Sweetheart,” Dream repeats. Dream might have been sweet, once, at the end of a different story. “You would call me this, at the end of this tale?”
Hob turns him so they are facing each other once more. A tear has gathered in the corner of his eye, and slips down to wet his pillowcase as Dream watches. Tears for Dream. Warm salt water. He smiles at Dream anyway.
“You’re my sweetheart. My dear one. You think I would think anything about this other than sadness for you?”
“Dear one,” Dream echoes. “Always good to me, my Hob.”
“‘Course.” Hob squeezes his hand. Hands that too have known violence, but soft for Dream, always. “Is there anything I can do for you? Anything at all?”
“Only what you have already done,” Dream says. “Be a cavern where I can shelter from the cold.”
Hob kisses him, hot and lingering, and pulls the blankets up over their heads.
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inkykeiji · 4 months
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omgomg clari about that ask of sukuna phisically hurting reader how do you think is aftercare after putting her through all that pain? if there’s any haha
ooooh anon this is SUCH a good question!! well first, i think if sukuna ‘fell in love’ with you (aka became extremely possessive and obsessive with you, utterly infatuated with you, completely addicted to you, the closest he can come to ‘true’ love) he would be unbelievably thorough with you. yes, he loves hurting you, loves the way your facial features wring up into the cutest little wince, loves the way his name splinters into the sweetest little yelps in your throat, loves the way you sob and sniffle and stutter when he screws his face into mock concern, lips jutted out in an exaggerated pout and forehead wrinkled with false worry as he coos out aw, sweetheart, did that hurt? but at the end of the day, you’re still his. you’re still his to take care of, his to fix, his to make better. and despite how sadistic and malicious he is, right down to the very marrow of his bones, right down to the gaping black pit where his soul should be, he still takes meticulously good care of his things. 
as such, he always mends those of his things that he breaks, and he does so with a rigorous sort of fastidiousness. he’s damn near methodical with it, and it would feel cold and sterile if not for his quiet murmurs as shockingly gentle fingers, claws retracted, piece you back together, patch you up, put you in the right order again. so good, baby, you’re doing so good for me, he praises, words void of their usual, characteristic tinge of patronization as he snaps those tiny, tiny bones back into place, sets them straight and secures them in a splint.  
and you, you’re so sweet, so soft, so stupidly naive, consistently lulled into some sort of inexplicable sense of safety and security and solace every single time, that it makes it that much more fun to shatter you to absolute bits again, to have you shuddering in his arms or his lap as you wail into his neck and cling to the demon that desecrates you, that destroys you, over and over and over. but it’s all okay, because you know as much as he loves to ruin you so beautifully, to smear your face with spit and sweat and tears, to leave your body mangled and stained and scarred with him—thick gouges from claws down your back and over your ass, imprints of his fangs engraved in your neck, stamps of four handprints encircling your arms and wrists and thighs—Daddy would never break you beyond repair, Daddy will always make it right again, no matter what. 
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httpiastri · 22 days
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Paul’s shirtless story pics of him 🤍.
bestie i-
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upper back & shoulder muscles are literally my weakness. i can't look at these pics and be sane, it just doesn't work like that. i freak out every time i remember them
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fatuismooches · 3 months
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Hello, so I didn’t see anything in you rules about like pregnancy/parenting so just sharing my brain rot, but feel free to delete this ask if it makes you uncomfortable!!
But, Smooches, as a little guy obsessed with genetics and science (planning on getting a degree in biology and other human sciences!!!ヽ(•̀ω•́ )ゝ✧ (my love for dottore has made me more and more of a deranged scientist…)) I’m just thinking about the Harbingers and how strong/dominant their genes might be…
We’ve only seen one of Childe’s siblings (Teucer) but I imagine in genes are STRONG cause his brother is almost the same as him 😭😭 Like you guys have a kid and they have the same blue eyes and ginger hair as Childe!
I also think it would be funny to have a kid with Dottore. I personally believe his genes are actually pretty recessive, but it’s funny to imagine having a kid with him and they look so similar to him everyone thinks it’s another one of his clones! It’s not until they get older or maybe call Dottore ‘father’ or something that it clicks in everyone’s mind that they’re not a clone!
Also, so many of the Fatui Harbingers have multi-colored hair (Arlecchino, Pantalone, Pierrio, Childe and Scaramouche all having a lighter or darker streak. I assume Columbina’s is dyed?) Just imagine their kid inheriting that!!
Oughh… i know all the harbingers would probably be terrible parents but I wanna be all domestic and lovey with them so bad 😭😭 [📺]
UGH YES THIS IS VERY CUTE,,, I TOO AM THINKING ABOUT THIS NOW! But yeah, I guess I never really thought about it but, you are right they look super alike 😭. (But honestly, I wouldn't be surprised when we meet the rest of Childe's family in Snezhnaya, they all look the same purely because that's what is easiest for HYV 😭)
Having a kid with Childe would be like having a mini him around and he absolutely adores it. It would be funny if you two kept trying to have a mini you, but instead all you got was mini Childes running around the place. 😭 AND DOTTORE 😭 I love that no one realizes it's his actual kid because 1. he's not going out of his way to explain the whole situation and 2. no one is questioning the existence of another blue-haired red-eye rascal. (Though when some people *cough those three particular annoying Harbingers* start to get too close to his kid, his irritation is noticeable.)
I imagine their kid does inherit the hairstreak, but in a different part of their hair 🥹 (Also, Pantalone's and Childe's hair streaks make me WDBAHDABWDW i love it sm. But then again the angst hcs of Pantalone getting the gray streak from using his Delusion make me🥲)
Okay but just hear me out on them being parents!! 😤 Well it's obvious Dottore is... Dottore. He struggles to even be a good husband sometimes, so being a parent is... territory none of us can fathom. But, you know I like to think at the very least, he'll remember how he was treated as a kid when he looks at his child,,, especially if his child looks similar to him. Honestly, he leaves a lot of the actual early parenting to you because well,,, he is Dottore, he does not know how to do these kinds of things, his hands are not meant to raise and love. A lot of the time you have to force him to, and well a lot of the time he spends with his kid is them sitting on his lap while he dumps a lot of scientific facts on his child (trying his best to avoid any unethical ones) Really,, he does love his kid, but the way he shows it well,, will need a lot of work (he has a lot of time to improve though because he'll expand the life span of them as well 😅)
Childe, most obviously, would be a very good father if you ask me. He is a family man, he's taken care of his siblings for a long time, he knows exactly what to do not just for his kid but for you too. Despite how his job may keep him away for periods of time, he spends every ounce of free time that he can give away with his kid!! Pantalone too I think would be good, a lot of it stems from how he struggled a lot as a child and he can never imagine his own child ever going through the same as him,, so i can see him as a pretty good parent :3
See, Pierro has the potential to be a very good parent, however, his job literally consumes all of his time,,, like of course he wants to spend time with his kid! He wants to tell them all about his old home and teach them the history and all! But the Fatui, the Celestia, all of it is far too important for him to spend extended amounts of time with his kid. 💔 And he refuses to let his kid mess up their sleep schedule to spend them with him at ungodly hours of the night... 😭 Capitano, another one who has potential! Unfortunately, as much as you taught him how to be more human and how to love, dealing with a kid is a whole other situation that he has no clue how to navigate,, by all means, he wants to learn, he wants to be a good dad, but it's,, a lot for him. Also scared of hurting his kid because of how tiny they are compared to him,, 😭 When the kid gets older though he starts to settle more in though!
Scaramouche, well, it's canon he's fond of kids! He'll be yelling and insulting everyone else but the minute his kid stumbles into his office all of a sudden he's calm! But with all of his trauma and other stuff going on, he doesn't become a better parent until he becomes Wanderer,, it's then when he really devotes more attention to raising his kid. Also is unconsciously overprotective of his kid because of how he lost the little boy centuries ago, so at least they'll never be in harm's way!
Arlecchino already has experience parenting, though she has work to do in like... the emotional and bonding section. Though she holds her children in the orphanage in a fond light, she still keeps them at arm's length because they are her soldiers... but she loves her kid very much!! Columbina is like, the fun parent, you're the one doing the discipline,, She is the one who loves to dress up your kid,, the one who probably lets them get away not eating their veggies 😭 But she is very very scary when she's mad so your kid knows not to get on her bad side!! Also good at putting the kid to sleep with her singing! Sandrone- well... kind of similar to Dottore. You and her child are the only two people she likes. But she also struggles a lot, and leaves a lot of parenting up to you,, though she and her robots keep a very watchful eye on the kid, she does not want them getting hurt with all the things around her lab! She ends up gaining more confidence when she finds out her kid likes to be in her lab during robot rides 🥹 Signora, I can also see being a pretty good parent! She just gives that vibe! I like to think she also has somewhat of a soft spot for kids! She loves taking care of her kid and watching them grow up :3
(Good luck with pursuing your degree btw! All of that sounds quite cool and I wish you all the best :3)
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kaeyx · 3 months
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I want yandere nikolai to snatch me up and force me to wear pretty little clothes and make me into a mindless porcelain doll<33
-☃️
Ugh you are SO real for this!! He'd love to have a broken little doll, a partner that's already so meek and obedient and dumbed down, someone who can't think hard enough to want to escape. It would be so cute to him, and entertaining too! You'd think he'd get tired of someone who follows him around like a lost puppy and never challenges him or disobeys, but Nikolai has his ways of playing with you! He loves suggesting he'd leave you, watching your face light up with terror as you frantically scramble to find some way to convince him to stay. Because your broken little brain can't fathom losing him, you need him that badly. Alternatively he loves seeing just how far he can push you, what embarrassing things he can make you do without question simply because he tells you to do them.
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aomdc · 10 months
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Hey, what's going on with your AM design? Need to know the hard thinking
oh hell yea smieling so wide
the brownish wires r kinda based on the fucking. hate pillar i haven't drawn this bc you cant pay me to, but "hate" being engraved in those wires is neat to me. (i like taking things literally)
+ the grey bundles im not sure how. clear they are but they have red + yellow + blue wires in them, AM's egos and id colours.
the yellow cables are based on the fucking. transitional screens between the psychodramas. grauau
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the flow(?) of the wires is loosley based on organs. paticullary intestines. something something about AM's sentience and how the survivors were in AM's belly. if i could word better id sound smart about this.
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think itd also be neat for server room parts and ect to be on him. based on the scene from the book about AM's dead parts. ("filled with rusting carcasses of ancient computer banks.„) ("tilted on its side and filled with rotted components.„)
The ripped wires are there for the same reason
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^^ same w. monitors. ranges from shitbeast pc boxes to big fuck off ones. He knows ab everything tht goes on to an extent. symbolism or something (i cba to grab a quote rn but the radio drama says something along the lines of he was connected to everything. thumbs up)
exposed wires and scrap metal on(in?) him also. he cant exactly be maintained so wahaallah theres things in this guy.
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this is. a wip. but ig the design in practice if it makes this bullshit seem somewhat comprehensive
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++ more cohesive(? ?) design also built like a snake
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theloveinc · 1 year
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OHHHH PAPA!EIJIROU AND SKIN TO SKIN WITH HIS BABY :(
he’s like 6’7”.. And 350 pounds of pure muscle…
The baby is dwarfed by him, and is sleeping so comfortably in the valley that is his chest :(
JUST... JUST... just having their special time together... daddy and baby. a layer of black hair on their head, still fresh and rosy from birth. the doctor said they were quite big for a newborn, and he knows because of the way your belly started distending at the end, but they're still the smallest thing he's held in years.
kiri going to his first newborn class with them, where a doctor teachers him how to hold baby properly, how to burp them, feed them, change them. he's the biggest guy in the room, but also one of the most careful cuz it's his first baby, and all the nurses think it's so cute when he gets all shy and amazed when they tell him to take off his shirt and tuck baby into his arms :'(((( then maybe even starts to weep a bit that first time.
AND THE THOUGHT OF coming home to them like that !!!!!!!!!!!! one of your first solo outings since becoming a mommy... and you open the door to find ⬆️⬆️⬆️ baby on kiri's bare chest on the couch, no sign of tears or anything, only drool and the little baby snores going strong. the tv isn't even on, either, and that's how content Kiri is just looking at your bab.
it's no surprise when they get a bit older and always start nodding off the second daddy picks them up, or trying to wiggle underneath his shirt🥺🥺
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kisses4kaia · 11 months
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omg i love ur writing sm<33 since there’s quite a few fics where charlie is a sub i was wondering if you could write some smut where he’s in control instead? also thank u for doing god’s work and writing abt charlie since there’s such a shortage in fics abt him :,)
omg thank you for the kind words and yes !! yk it’s hard work , carrying the entire charlie walker uprising on this app on my back😔 JK I LOVE IT AND YOU GUYS !! fem! reader , nsfw , pet names , etc , etc .
princess🎠- c, walker ,,
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as you lie on your back, naked, tied up, on your bed, you begin to wonder how you even got yourself into this position.
well, it started as an innocent takeout dinner on the couch with your boyfriend. you settled on your favorite movie of all time '10 things i hate about you', and well, charlie hated it.
"see, heath ledger's great and all but, it's totally confusing," he claimed. you snorted at this. "oh yeah? how so?"
"i mean, joey, the popular guy, wants to take out bianca, the popular girl. however, bianca's dad won't let her date unless her freak sister, kat, does. and so popular guy joey goes and pays delinquent guy patrick to take out freak sister kat so he can take popular girl bianca out?"
and he's not done.
"plus, patrick serenades kat to what, gain her trust? i just don't get it," he spoke at the iconic scene.
"no, dummy. obviously, you haven't been paying attention. he serenades kat to apologize to her," you said. "i didn't hear the words 'i'm sorry' anywhere in those lyrics," he said, matter of factly.
"okay, party pooper. you win," you rolled your eyes in retort. "i'm sorry, i know you love this movie," he apologized.
you laughed. "no biggie. and plus, i still owe you something for making you watch this absolute masterpiece of a film, so? what's it gonna be?" you looked up at him expectantly.
he seemed to think for a second before his eyes darkened. oh, he had something absolutely wicked in mind and you knew it.
"i want... to be on top, in the bedroom, tonight," he admitted, looking down and playing with his hands as if he was scared you were going to say no.
you smiled. "that's what you want? even wanna tie me up and everything?" you said, your smile evident in your tone. he looked up and nodded.
"well, lead the way, sir." the name made his stomach flip and his dick twitch. he had never jumped off of the couch so fast.
you followed him into the bedroom and his lips immediately found yours. his hands roamed your body and grabbed everywhere. your breathing became heavier and suddenly it seemed like you just couldn't get close enough to him.
he broke the kiss to speak. "take off your clothes and lay down on the bed," his breath was still in the air.
"yes, sir." you grinned widely at him as you obeyed his instructions. you were slow and teasing in your movements.
he tolerated it once you finally finished and laid your back on the soft mattress.
his eyes wandered over your body seemingly a million times. his gaze pierced through your skin and made you slightly self-conscious.
he removed his belt first, walking up to you and taking your wrists in his hands. "is this okay?" he asked softly before you nodded. "words, baby," he spoke again.
"yes." you verified. "yes, what?" he continued. "yes, sir." you corrected yourself.
"good girl."
he used the belt to restrain your hands onto the headboard.
the clothes that once hugged his body were gone quickly as he hovered over you, pressing a sweet, passionate kiss to your lips. he kissed down your neck, leaving a few wet spots in their wake.
his lips soon found the sweet spot on your collarbone he had grown to know oh so well. the sweet sounds that pulled from your vocal cords hardened his cock impossibly so.
"oh my god, char," you breathed out as one of his large hands found your breast. he twisted and pulled at the sensitive peak, loving the squirm of your body beneath him.
you felt so hot, like you couldn't get enough air in your lungs when charlie began kissing down your body, stopping at where you needed him the most.
his middle finger dragged down your torso to your slit, running it up and down, teasing your entrance multiple times. you tugged on the restraints.
"please," you quietly whined. "hm? what was that, princess?" you moaned at the name. "fuck, please, charlie." you begged, lifting your head off of the pillow slightly to lock eyes with him.
"since you asked so nicely," he said before pushing the digit inside of you.
little choked whines and whimpers escaped your lips as he curled the finger and pumped it in and out of you. "so good, please don't stop," you moaned as your eyes shut in ecstasy.
he continued his work on you until your moans increased more and more in volume. "fuck, i'm almost there!" you almost shouted before he sped up his abuse on your cunt.
he was unrelenting in his need to make you cum. he even added his thumb, circling it around your clit. you threw your head back onto the pillow behind you as your mouth fell open in pleasure.
your orgasm approached faster than you'd expected. "go ahead, doll. cum for me," he permitted. it took nothing else to make you unravel. he spoke you through it.
"shh, you're doing so well for me. my good, good, girl."
he goes to remove the belt from your wrists, and you actually begin to think the nights through. you try to sit up before he pushes right back down.
"oh, sweetheart. you thought tonight was over? we've only just begun, pretty girl."
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tags; @themostintellectualblonde @dreamtofus @wannabe-indie-sleaze @insanelycrazyanddelusional
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huh, you seems lonely, why not have a fake version of you, mod?
(Wha, I'm not lonely! There's no need for- Wait, who is that...?
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YEEEEEOOOOOWWWWUUUHHHHHH!!!!!!!
HHHHHHUUUWWWWOOOOOEEEEEY!!!!!!!
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hee-pster · 5 months
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is it bad that i want to suck on heeseungs nipples….
like usually its the other way around, the guy sucking on the girls nipples, but since we alr know he got sensitive nips i feel like he’d like getting his sucked too 😶 plus he would make such pretty noises and MAYBE cum in his pants afterwards 🤭
Anon I really am the last person to be objective about this because I haven’t stopped thinking about that clip where jw pinches his nipples for even a single day …
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redacted-headcanons · 1 month
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Garfilled still hesitates if he thinks he hears Deytra after the mimic incident
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krikeymate · 4 months
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I don't know if anyone else can see this too when they watch it but I rewatched Scream 6 yesterday and I noticed that when Tara is about to punch Gale, it looks like she does a little jump before doing so.
I just find that so hilarious and adorable. Like this girl loves the chaos and defending Sam, she doesn't get to do it often because Sam is always protecting her so imagine how excited she gets everytime she has the chance to protect her instead. Because let's be honest, this angry little chihuahua loves getting to be violent sometimes and just start something.
The minute she sees that Sam's punch is dodged, I can just imagine her eyes lighting up and just thinking something like "here's my chance! Alright alright, and 1...2...3...GO!' 😂😂
And she jumps in preparation after that thought to make sure it's a good punch. It's for Sam so she needs to make sure it hurts.
I can just imagine how proud and smug she is that she got to do that and then we obviously get Sam's little smirk in the background when she does punch Gale. She's simultaneously proud of Tara but also exasperated a little like 'That's my girl but really? This is exactly why I can't leave her alone.'
I think it's just her shoulder slipping into frame as she rears her arm back to throw the punch but I LOVE the idea of her bouncing on her heels ready to throw herself bodily forward with everything she has. She is READY to throw down.
You just know Sam is so damn satisfied that Tara got a punch in, conflicted by the warmth she feels that Tara would get involved on her behalf, worry because she doesn't want her sister to get violent, for Sam to be considered a bad influence. And above all else, knowing that she can't really react to it, because there are literally cameras watching her every move at that moment.
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