#how tf do you tag
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quick drawing of cool girl ninja girl thing waterr
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This is California and New York no doubt about it this is just them
#wttt#wttsh#wttt california#wttt new york#wttsh california#wttsh new york#wttt caliyork#how tf do you tag
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The Dollmaker [Douma x Reader]
Pairing: Douma x fem!reader
Summary: You are a dollmaker; you follow your friend to the Eternal Paradise Cult and are fascinated by its leader, a man who looks much like the dolls you make...
Warnings: ehhh blood? mention of consuming human flesh? honestly below canon typical level.
Word count: ~2,000
Notes: Uh hey yeah so this is the first thing I've really written in a while (aside from brainstorming stuff). I wrote it last night in one manic sitting. I let it languish for a bit, then went back and re-read it. Honestly can't tell if it's good. But I did have fun writing it! So. Debated posting but I figured someone might like it? Idk. Minimally edited as well so read at your own risk ig. *crawls back under my rock*.
[Edit: Ao3 link]
You’re not a religious person. You suppose you might believe in spirits; it’s hard to be a doll maker like yourself and not have some belief in them. But Gods? Prayers? You can’t understand it.
But it’s your disbelief that prompts you to follow your friend to the Eternal Paradise cult. You worry about her; she’s always been the more gullible out of you two, and her family encouraged her belief in gods. The cult is probably just a scam, and you know you need to be there to shield your friend from the worst of the consequences. So, you pass your work off to one of your employees and follow her up to the temple on the mountain.
You feel a sense of foreboding once you enter the temple. The cultists are all dressed similarly; most are women, and young ones at that. You know the cult was primarily marketed towards these people, but it still raises your hackles. You know the cult leader is a man, and these are the people men like to take advantage of the most. You don’t want to be here, but you’re glad you didn’t let your friend go on her own.
It is apparently a slow day within the cult, as you only wait in the bustling reception room for what feels like a few minutes before one of the women tells you that the leader is ready to see you now. She asks if you’d like to go separately; you say no. She nods demurely back, and motions towards the doors.
Once you enter, your eyes are immediately drawn to the man lounging on the platform at the far end of the room. You can’t look away from him.
He smiles, almost benevolently at you two, but it doesn’t reach his multicolored eyes. “Welcome! I am Dōma; what seems to be troubling you, my dears?”
Your friend speaks up, but you tune her out. You’ve already borne the brunt of listening to her problems; you use the time instead to study this Dōma.
He seems so animated. He smiles, his face twists into something sympathetic, understanding. And yet nothing seems to reach his eyes.
As you watch him lift an elegant, pale hand to make a gesture, you realize something. He reminds you of some of your dolls.
He was like a puppet. Crafted lovingly, painstakingly to look like the mirror image of a true human. Skilled hands could make the doll, and skilled hands could manipulate its face and body parts to look human-like. But in the end, the glass eyes of the doll held no emotion, no life. The same was true of Dōma.
You wonder if that’s what it means to be a prophet for the gods. If he’s simply a divine puppet, moved by invisible puppeteers. If an unimaginable being crafted his eyes to be so doll-like, inhuman. Maybe that was how they marked him as other. It would make sense; you’ve never seen eyes like that on anyone else.
You try to listen to what he says. It’s hard, when you keep losing the thread of conversation in favor of watching flashes of sharp, perfect teeth that shine whenever he opens his mouth.
It’s all meaningless platitudes, anyway. Hardly different from what other religious people would say. You take back your assumption about him being a divine puppet. There is no holy wisdom in this man, in this doll.
It makes you wonder who then is puppeteering him if not the gods. Is he simply a spirit, locked in an unnatural body? Who created such a lifelike vessel? For what purpose? To make something, so close to humanity, and yet so far….such craftsmanship you could only dream of achieving with your own dolls.
You get the strange urge to break him open. You wonder what he’s made of, what he looks like on the inside. How was such a thing made?
You are broken out of your haze once he turns to you.
“And you? Why did you come to me?” his eyes are piercing, for glass. You've never seen a doll with eyes so alive, so you waver a moment. Maybe he is a real person? But you’ve never seen a person with eyes so void of true feeling.
You swallow thickly. Your throat is dry. You almost spill your thoughts, and ask him if he is a doll. You stop yourself, thankfully, and stutter out the true response. “I came to be with her. To make sure she was safe.”
He rests his chin on one hand, eyes never leaving you. “Did you think I would hurt her?”
Your friend tries to cut in with a hasty apology on your behalf. You cut her off. “The way up the mountain can be treacherous. What makes you think I was thinking of you?”
He tilts his head in easy acquiescence. “But you were. Don’t worry though! I won’t hurt her!” He gives you a bright smile, and you marvel at the workmanship that must have gone into making him smile so naturally.
You don’t speak, again, only nodding your goodbye to him as you and your friend exit the room.
She almost speaks to you, but something on your face must discourage her. Instead, she asks on of the many cult members bustling around if you two could stay the night.
You are placed in a single room, with two futons. Your friend lies down immediately, making some offhand comments about being exhausted after your journey, and how nervous she felt talking to Dōma. You only half listen to her. Your mind lingers on Dōma, on the living doll this cult calls their leader. You feel more focused on him than you’ve ever felt about anything. There’s something about him that pulls you in.
Even as you lay to sleep, your mind doesn’t stop. You’re so sure he must be a doll, a puppet. Someone who moves like him can’t be human.
But there is a niggling doubt. Maybe you’re wrong? Maybe this is just what cult leaders look like. Unnatural beauty that draws people in like scavengers to a corpse.
Well, you think to yourself. Only one way to find out.
You get up. Your friend is sound asleep. She has had a long day. You leave her behind as you pad along the vast corridors of the temple. You don’t know where you’re going, but your feet are trying to lead you somewhere, and you let them.
The first door you open is his bedroom door. Surprisingly, he has no guard of any sort. It seems distressingly easy to access him. You would think someone so special and unique that they had their own cult would be worth enough to guard.
But all the better for you, you suppose. You creep farther into his room, until you loom over his futon.
He almost looks more doll-like now. His face is blank with sleep, but it seems less like sleep and more like death. But puppets don’t die; they do lose life, but that’s only when the humans who breathe life into them leave.
Now, he is simply a puppet without a master.
You kneel gently on the futon. He doesn’t even seem to breathe. Another point for the doll theory. You have almost no misgivings now.
You reach out, and brush your fingertips across his cheek. His skin is flawlessly smooth, and icy cold. No living being is that cold.
You trail your hand up to his hair. Its absurdly soft, like silk. You use silk for the hair on some of your dolls as well, but it’s never felt quite that soft.
You didn’t notice before, but there is some sort of stain on the top of his hair. It was mostly hidden under his hat before, but now it is clear. It looks like someone spilled paint on him. It would be seen as a defect on something otherwise so faultless, but even that looks intentional, no drip out of place.
As you study him, you inch closer. You’re basically straddling him now, but you don’t pay much attention to that. Instead, you let your eyes roam over him again. His hands are similarly perfect, with blue nails filled to a point on every finger. You pick up one of his hands to observe them better. You hiss as one of your fingertips catches on his nail. They’re like knives, easily splitting your flesh.
You bring your cut finger up to your mouth, ready to suck away the blood beading on it.
Quick as lighting, a hand grips your wrist. You freeze, shocked, and look up, right into Dōma’s stained glass eyes. You try to pull away, but his grip is as firm as stone. His other hand grips at your hip. You can almost feel his claws through your kimono.
“Now, what do we have here?” he says, his voice a purr. There’s no trace of sleepiness in his tone, and no trace of haziness in his eyes.
Instead, you’re the one who feels sluggish. You gape at him, not saying a word.
He clicks his tongue, tilting his head almost like a disappointed mother. But his expression is not motherly at all. It’s mocking, with some sort of hunger beneath it. You think that hunger is the most emotion you’ve ever seen in his eyes. “Now, what were you doing here, in my bed, in the middle of the night, darling?”
You flush at the implication. You’re silent a moment, unsure what to say. You’re not even quite sure yourself why you’re there. You try to answer honestly anyway. “I’m not sure.”
He raises an eyebrow, wordlessly prompting you to elaborate.
Words flood out of you. “I just had to see you again! I don’t quite know why…I think I just want to know what you are. Because I know you aren’t human.”
“What am I, then?”
“You remind me of a doll. I make them. And you look like the dolls I make. You’re meant to look human, but you’re not, not really. Something is just…off. You’re almost too perfect…your skin, your hair, your eyes…no human looks like that. No human behaves like you either...your eyes are like glass. So, so beautiful, yet...they don’t portray the emotion your body tries to make.”
He seems little surprised for a second. He studies you more keenly now. “Well…I can’t say you’re totally wrong.” He smiles, but this time it’s different. It’s more a baring of teeth. You can see now he truly has fangs. He has the mouth of a predator. “I’m not human. But I’m not a doll either, silly girl!”
He pulls you closer, and sits up, until you two are pressed almost chest to chest. Your wrist, still in his hand, is tugged until your bloody finger is pressed to his lips.
“Do you want to know what I am?” he whispers, voice low. His lips move against your finger, smearing your blood on them, tinting them red.
You feel your heart beating faster. You can’t tell if it’s fear or excitement. Your brain feels fuzzy, like you’re drunk. Intoxicated.
You nod.
His tongue stretches out, lapping your blood away from your skin. You shiver.
He releases your hand, but pulls you even closer. His bloody mouth is pressed to your ear. You’re paralyzed, heart thudding, pulsing so hard now you can hear it.
“I’m a demon,” he murmurs, icy breath caressing your ear. And then without warning, he pulls aside your kimono and bites deep into your shoulder.
You gasp, a shaky broken thing. His fangs easily slice through your skin. Your blood pours into his mouth, and he moans.
He pulls away. “You taste so good…”
“Don’t eat me. Please!” you’re crying now, tears dripping down your face; from fear more than pain. You’ve heard stories of demons. You know what they do to people.
“Oh, no, darling. You misunderstand.” He clutches you close. He does it lightly, but you can feel he could crush you without a thought if he wanted. “You’re too intriguing to kill. As long as you keep your pretty mouth shut, I don’t have to do anything! I have plenty of other disciples to feed on. I never go hungry.”
So that’s why he has the cult. It’s like a farm; raising animals for food.
But as long as you’re not the one going to slaughter…
You sniffle. “Don’t eat my friend either…”
“OK, sweetheart. She can be safe as well, as long as she doesn’t get too nosy…”
You feel a rush of relief. You’ve never been more grateful for your friend’s naivete. It will keep her alive, now.
“But…what will you do with me?”
“Hmm…I want to keep you with me! You’re interesting. And life is dreadfully dull sometimes. I need something…someone special. To make existence less boring. And I think you could be that person.” He smiles at you. It feels more real now, less plastic. You could almost imagine you saw a flicker of real emotion in his eyes.
You’re exhausted. And you understand, a bit. Life is dull for you as well; often you wake up only to go through the motions of the day, with nothing to look forward to. Then you go back to bed, and repeat the cycle.
The interest you felt in Dōma, though sickeningly manic, obsessive, was a feeling you’d been craving for years. Finally, you felt something strongly again. Even when you were scared out of your mind, thinking you would be eaten… it was better than feeling numb.
“Okay,” you say. Your head drops onto his shoulder, hiding your face. “I’ll stay with you.”
He shivers, and his arms tighten around you. “Thank you, my darling.” His mouth returns to the sluggishly bleeding wound on your shoulder, licking up the blood like a cat does milk. It hurts, still, but you think you could get used to it. At least when you can feel his tongue soothing the ache.
#Romy can Write#kny#demon slayer#kimetsu no yaiba#douma x reader#doma x reader#douma x you#douma x y/n#kny x reader#how tf do you tag#fem reader#female reader
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as an alter or headmate or whatever with a VERY different personality than the host's its actually so important to have a space to like. express yourself in the way you want?
but also watch out cause you get used to it and forget to mask when it could be dangerous not to askdfjkafsks anyways
but yeah ive found that i get along with everyone else a whole lot more if i'm able to have at least some places to be expressive in the way i want to be. it's a lot more important than you realize ig, and not just in the context of being a system. it's like a breath of fresh air
#maybe this is something other people already know#but in my defense#i am stupid <3#plurality#plural system#pluralgang#plural community#how tf do you tag#-vanilla
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MAKING SUM1 CHOOSE BETWEEN GIRLDICK AND BOYPUSSY IS LIKE CHOOSING WHICH IMPORTANT FAMILY MEMBER 2 SAVE FROM FALLING OFF A CLIFF
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I'll smash his face into concrete
#this is because i love him guys#phi beyblade#beyblade burst#beyblade#beyburst#art#fanart#how tf do you tag#i did this at like midnight - 1am of two days#i would also hit him with a metal pipe#out of love#i promise
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I guess this'll be like a little hi, how are you to the Tumblr void. I don't know how to do these things!
Anyhow, I made a funny little vii man named Farron.
No one would say he's the smartest man. He's also the tiniest and apparently has a 'thing' for elezen. Listen, I don't make the rules.
Cooking and anything to do with plants are something he really loves too, along with making random concoctions that he'll give to anyone who wants to try them.
Or maybe they don't want to. Details.
So, uh, yep. I'm awkward. :D
I'll probably write more things about him eventually or answer some wol questions here and there when I see them.
Okbye.
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I forgot I had a tumblr oops
Anyways here’s that barbie meme but Jak and Daxter cause it’s literally them LOL
Daxter is definitely standing on a table
#fanart#digital drawing#cartoon#jak ii#jak and daxter#ps2#daxter#art#barbie meme#also posted on ig#how tf do you tag#hi tumblr
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Fresh Wounds Fresh Water
Pokemon
General - Legends Arceus
Fish Pokémon are nice to you after you get kicked out by the people you trusted
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You are a child… how was it so easy for them to forget that? How was it, after everything you had done for these people, they cast you out like this? Sitting on this quiet space, a stone in an ocean compared to everything you’ve seen, you watched the magikarp swim gently around the berries you’d tossed into the water for them.
This small dry spot hidden beneath a cliff side and sat across from a waterfall was the most peaceful place you’d been able to find in Hisui. Basculegion normally left you there for some time, but this evening it sat patiently beside you in the water. The company was nice after what happened. Bubbling water and small splashes of the Pokémon eating together held you there in the quiet, allowing your defenses to fall.
It’s funny how often these ‘wild monsters’ will notice what’s wrong before you do. They sense dangers around every corner, sudden drops, avalanches, rock slides, stampedes, even something as small as rotted food, far before you do; they so easily protect you from these things, and you are still surprised when they save you each time. Especially when they even stop now to save you from your own feelings.
It was the wet slap and awkward fumbling of the magikarp jumping into your lap that nearly sent you falling to the water. The small sunset scaled creature cuddled into you as you resettled your hold it, this allowed you the comfort, the safety, the space to cry. Small, simple tears. Lonely ones, bitter ones, tired ones, everything you had felt since arriving in this strange place suddenly poured out as the Pokémon around you stayed close. Them as perfectly comfortable in your presence as you have come to be in theirs.
When you came back to your senses you felt the cold, the sky, still dark and twisting as before, had cast out the remaining light of what had been day. The ghost type beside you sturdied itself as you let the magikarp back into the water and positioned yourself for the ride. This thing that once scared you now carried you as though you were the most precious being in the word. For these small few moments, where the true nature of the Pokémon is clear, you feel like you are. By the time you find yourself back by a fire rest comes as easily as breathing, after all, you are a child.
#pokemon#pokémon#pkmn#pokemon x reader#Pokémon and reader#x reader#platonic fanfiction#platonic hurt/comfort#hurt/comfort#fanfic#how tf do you tag#🪲#cross posted on ao3#pokémon legends arceus#pkmn legends arceus
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Tsukasa tenma tsukasa tenma tsukasa tenma tsukasa tenma Tsukasa tenma Tsukasa tenma Tsukasa tenma Tsukasa tenma Tsukasa tenma Tsuka
#tsukasa tenma#project sekai#i may be a little obsessed#maybe#25ji mafuyu#25ji tsukasa#they must be friends in canon#*headcanons your tsukasa*#i just think hes neat#wxs#wonderlands x showtime#tenma tsukasa#how tf do you tag#im cryin
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I heard this audio on tiktok and idk why but it kinda reminded me of them, so i did it💀💀im cringe ik but anyway im letting this sht here
#markhoffman#peterstrahm#saw#coffinshipping#hoffstrahm#how tf do you tag#lmaooo#thinking about regretting of posting this#the quality is so bad omg💀
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yellow sketch is a miscellaneous doodle but have some rain world roleplay drawings >:] ft. my buddies @andrewsshenanigans & @egret-orchid :D
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Completely forgot I took a picture of this- but during my HMH testing I saw this and started dying
Texas uses she/her pronouns confirmed??🤨
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Commentary: Me and my friends watching RWRB for the first time
(After the polo sex scene) Alex: Yeah, I could eat. Mage: You just ate!!
(Phillip comes on screen) Me: Heck you Phillip, go shove a Royal stick up your ass. Shines: Cough, sceptre.
Alex: No such thing as a locked door when you're a prince, I suppose. Me: Alex, you are literally a locked door.
Alex: I guess you could say I'm … bisexual. Mage: No sh*t, Sherlock.
Henry: I've never owned a key in my life. Mage: Cause no one trusts you as the gay youngest child. Shines: Been. There.
Henry: I think we should make love tonight. Everyone: YOOOOOOOOOOO
Alex, on a pier watching the love of his life swim away: Mage: Standing man emoji 🧍♂️
Bea, holding Henry's hand: Do you love him? Mage: My question is, why is she packing a whole bakery.
Henry: *unlocks V&A door* Me: Really, Henry, you've never owned a key in your life?
Henry: In here, at night, no one else is around to gawk at you. Mage: But you're around to gawk intensely at the naked man statues. ☕ Shines: Hypocrite.
(Can’t help falling in love plays) Everyone: *singing along offbeat and in a variety of untuned octaves*
King: Because the nation will not accept a prince who is … homosexual. Everyone: hOmOsseKSuAL
Alex: Do you still have my key on you? Me: And then they stole some bikes. Shines: Oh my god, they did!
#rwrb#rwrb movie#commentary#yes they are fake names#inappropriate mind inappropriate time#how tf do you tag
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Tripping and falling. In love? Or in the rink?: If you want me to hurry up…
TW/CW | mentions of a somewhat nsfw topic? Not really?
This also isnt proofread
Skating out of the rink, Johnny smiled with a delight that could only be explained by the truth. Going to the middle of the rink, he breathed in, thought of extending wings in order to be free like a phoenix. One. Two. Axel. It was probably an easier jump, especially considering he was cooling down from a much harder workout and he was experienced. A couple axels to warm up, and a couple axels to cool down.
He entered into the locker room, grabbing a towel to wipe off his face and his water bottle. He drank it like he was depraved of it for weeks.
“Yo. The hockey boys are here.” A friend called out.
Huh? What do they mean the hockey boys? Johnny stopped drinking, put down the bottle and looked over at the guys entering in. They were tall, even off skates. The tallest one had to duck under the doorframe just to fit in. Johnny shook his head, not even wanting to imagine how uncomfortable that was. He turned back to getting ready, putting on his tennis shoes that he kept in there. If the hockey boys were already coming in, he knew he had to hurry.
You see, this place is rather poor when it comes to funding. Figure and hockey skaters share lockers, given that their time on the rink almost never overlaps.
Johnny panicked while trying to tie his shoes. The presence of a looming figure did not help any. If there was one thing that bothered the scot, it was the feeling of someone watching him, waiting for him, to ‘hurry the fuck up’.
Simon on the other hand, didn’t mind waiting. He was rather quick when it came to getting gear on and off, and he used this time to mock the figure skater.
“Oh, hurry up MacTavish.” He complained, resting on one of the bars where wet towels, and sometimes clothes, were hung.
“Well, my apologies, sir.” Johnny rolled his eyes, not caring for Simons taunts. They were just little playful jabs to get under his skin. Not like the two hated each other… did they? Johnny didn’t think so, god he’d hope the fuck not.
Kyle, the friend who called out the hockey team, mocked him constantly for something he didn’t even understand. ‘You totally like him! If I had someone look at me the way you look at him, I’d marry them on the spot!’ Again, just another playful jab. It fits more in teasing territory, but it didn’t matter.
“You better fucking beg if you want me to hurry up.” Johnny mouthed to Simon.
(To be continued!)
(This is my first time writing a soapghost fanfiction and my second tumblr post entirely, so I am so sorry if it’s not good!! I tried!)
#johnny mactavish#john mactavish#soap mactavish#soap cod#soap mw2#simon riley#simon ghost riley#ghost riley#ghost mw2#ghost cod#ghost x soap#ghostsoap#soapghost#kyle gaz garrick#kyle garrick#gaz cod#gaz mw2#how tf do you tag#könig kinda implied??#i mean he is around the same height as an american door#american standards
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Hi ok so I'm extremely new to tumblr and everything I know about tumblr etiquette comes from Strange Aeons but I needed a place to post my silly lil sonic doodles+hcs away from the people I know, unfiltered and also cause I genuinely want to interact with the fandom!
Just so you know, I'm 20 and there will probably be mature content from time to time, so proceed with caution :)
Anyways nice to meet y'all :D
#sonic the hedgehog#sonic fandom#sonadow#illustration#drawing#am i doing this right?#pls help#how tf do you tag
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