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#vaguely ooc but! i wanted to draw it anyway

wolfythewitch · 3 months

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Old doodle of them based on this template I found lmao

#odysseus #diomedes #sketch #vaguely ooc but! i wanted to draw it anyway

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aasperitas · 2 months

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Uhhhh hi lil oneshot comic i made for my secret valentine on the pit discord server :> This originally had like 10 more pages but i am a college student, my time is limited. Also i had to switch drawing programs twice through drawing this and went overboard on colours so yeah, no, i scrapped those. The original idea is that kokichi has been stuck in a time loop that resets whenever shuichi dies, and, in the canon game (one of the later loops) before trial 5, he writes a letter to shuichi basically explaining this super vaguely. He throws it out though, not expecting shuichi to actually find it. But he is the ultimate detective, and comes across it entirely by accident while investigating The Incident with the hydraulic press. This makes him realize the truth and he regains all his memories from past loops. I kinda implied that Kokichi actually told him in a previous loops about this but he died and forgot the one right after. Kokichi's whole plan with the press was to offset that changing one variable; whether shuichi wins or loses at the game, and also his own survival. If shuichi seems ooc with how he just ditches kaede, well i wouldve needed more than a page to even begin exploring that relationship and i had 3 exams last week plus two the week before, cut me some slack lmao As I said before, I had to cut it down a lot, but I still have the other drafts and might finish them?? idk if people want to see this but if so ig i will anyway have a good day and i hope someone out there finds my random sudden inspo interesting??

#danganronpa drv3 #drv3 #shuichi saihara #kokichi ouma #kaede akamatsu #danganronpa #saiouma #oumasai #fan comic #time loop #drv3 kokichi #drv3 shuichi

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neet-elite · 2 months

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not sure if you write for sydney but consider: dumbification. just edging him, fingering him open until he's almost sobbing and all his big boy thoughts are gone and all he can do is whimper and beg for mommy to let her dumb little angel cum. 💞

i love sydney ahh... although i've never wrote for them, so please excuse any OOC content!! calling them an angel is so perfect though </3

MDNI ♡ Warnings: submissive sydney, dumbification, anal fingering, mommy kink, religious contexts (i know this is vague, i just use a lot of religious words because... well, sydney.)

WC: 1077

Somewhere, deep in the recesses of his own mind, he knows exactly what he's trying to say. A mix of don't stop and wait a second caught on the tip of his tongue, prompting it to loll out instead of providing anything of use to him at the moment, muted taps of his drool hitting the floor to join the other slick sounds filling the room. But you can hardly expect anything more from him when you're knuckles deep in his ass, now can you?

But still, he tries for you. Tries purely because you've asked. Now, whether or not he remembers what you've asked him is another question entirely, mind melted under the curl of your fingers, head dizzy with how difficult it is to try and remember to simply breathe, taking big gasping gulps of air to cope with how good you're making him feel, and you've barely even touched his cock yet— you're exactly the type of person he was warned to avoid, but he can't think of as to why right now. Too busy trying to quell his shaking thighs under the strain of trying to keep himself bent over prettily, when all he really wants to do is rut into the ground below; he doesn't even care what's under him, so long as he can cum for you. It's the sole reason he exists right now, dumb little boy with a leaking cock; all for you. All because of you.

"What— nn, what did you— Ah!" you cut him off with an expert flick of your wrist, a single finger stroking down his throbbing cock placed between his thighs like some sort of tucked dog tail. He bucks involuntarily anyway, swinging his hips in the air for just a little more friction— anything at this point, immediately forgetting the rest of his sentence when you introduce a new finger in his ass, stretching his hole out for your own enjoyment at this point. It's sick how much he enjoys it, right?

"I said—" you start, emphasising your words with an unfair shove of your hand deeper into his hole, finger fucking a high-pitched whine to spill from him, prompting him to rock forward with your thrust in a seeking of more. "You're still holding back. C'mon, sooner you let go the sooner y'can cum."

As if it's that easy, he muses. And yet still, the drawl your voice carries draws him closer, sinking further into your touch with every greedy inch you fuck into him, every brush of your free hand against his red hot cock sending shivers of pleasure down his spine; whispering sweet nothings of you're right, it feels too good not to let go, so go on, it'll feel even better when you completely give in.

But he's trying so hard so remain at least somewhat present for you, to keep some coherence to fully appreciate your sinful touch. Despite the copious amounts of drool that spills from his tainted lips, coating his bitten arm tacky with saliva, the thick drip of precum drooling down his thighs, asshole leaking with the amount of spit you've fucked down his hole. In spite of that, he wants to properly thank you for showing him the light.

That is, until your not so innocent confession of: "You're so pretty when you fall apart, angel." hits his ears and he whines. All needy and feminine, choked in his throat when you add the extra stimulation of meek pets against the length of his cock. Ah, he's so sensitive there! Practically begging for it by the way he wiggles his ass back at you, he knows, acting out of pure impulse rather than taking a moment to consider his actions; successfully fucked stupid on your mere fingers, he's got no hope in Hell of ever taking anything else at this rate.

What remains of him is a single thought, humping the air as instinct takes hold of him for perhaps the first time in his life. A full body shiver in response to your strokes, both on his cock and in his ass, nudging against that sensitive spot while tenderly caring for his too sensitive tip. You've really left him no other choice, huh?

"Wanna— um, ah— Can I—"

The sound of your disapproving tuts only serves to turn him on some more, thick globs of precum dripping from his tip and onto your expert fingers. God, you sound so mean. He can't work out why you're tutting right now, not when his hole tries to suck your fingers in further. You'll have to clue him in.

"Nuh uh, you forgot the magic word, angel."

And despite your harmless enough words, the little pet name tacked on at the end of your scolding causes his hips to thrust harder. Only once or twice, bouncing his ass back against your fingers working his hole open like he was... A slut, or something. Even just thinking of the words has him trembling, biting down on his bottom lip in an attempt to remain composed enough to answer your plea.

"M-Mommy— please, can— Can I cum now?"

Ever the sadist, you have him wait. Not long, he intrinsically understands, but it feels like for fucking ever when you're fucking him so well like this. Leaving him a gasping, moaning, drooling mess on the floor because you said so. Isn't that deplorable? That contrary to his heavy upbringing, here he is asking you for permission. Effectively praying to you, you who is currently defiling him from behind like he was a common whore. It's disgusting, goes against his very being.

Which is why he needs to cum so badly for you.

"Go on, then." you resign, apathy rich in your tone for him to whine at. Not from displeasure, but from plain hedonistic enjoyment.

So he does. Cums, that is. Right into your open and wanting palm, shooting his load all over your fingers like he was made solely for this. Greedy groans escape him, followed by a mantra of your name; a hymn of devotion to another God. One whose fingers still yet remain inside his hole, stretching and scissoring him through his orgasm to leave him choking on air.

Only when he's finally done riding the last wave do you start again, drilling him into the ground without much effort at all, his lungs heaving to catch up to your own version of praying.

Devotion, perhaps.

#💌mail #dol smut #degrees of lewdity smut #sydney the faithful smut #first time writing sydney please be kind <3

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the-drayster · 4 months

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OOC!

Late night ramblings from Yee Olde Mod.

What the heck is up with this guys family tree. Like.

The only CANON bit we have is that he's Drayden's grandson. This is confirmed by Hassel. Other than that, nothing (That I've found, at least).

Which dives into headcanon zone. (This is all personal conjecture, by the way!)

So far, I have a vague idea of what I'm planning. I know what his mother is going to be like, and the idea of a design if I ever get around to drawing her. I don't know about his dad, though. I'm considering having his parents be divorced, or his father be otherwise out of the picture. This would give him another reason to idolize his grandfather as much as he does, but I'm not 100% sure I'll go through with that. Either way, his mother is Drayden's daughter.

That gets immediate family (mostly) out of the way.

Extended family is slightly more complicated. I'm not entirely sure how exactly I want to factor Iris in yet. I was thinking about having her be adopted by Drayden, but generally considered his granddaughter by the family? Drayton himself sees her as a cousin anyways, so that makes the most sense to me.

Iris as Leon/Hop's cousin gets even MORE complicated. But they also live in Galar, so I don't have to worry about them too much.

I've seen other people headcanon the Submas twins as being Drayden's nephews, but I'm not sure if I'll factor that in or not. It could be fun, but I'm not set on it.

That above point brings me to a sort of random (but funny to specifically me) idea, which is that I might give Drayton twin cousins. I thought of this without even considering Submas, which is funny to me. But, either way, they'd be younger than him, around 4-6, and very energetic. The idea of Drayton being set to carting around two very energetic kids is entertaining.

Besides, him having a fairly big family is something I'd like to play into anyways.

Feel free to chime in with your own thoughts or ideas!

#OOC post #Mod Ramblings

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firekitten830 · 4 months

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thinking about gio .... tell us more about him he's literally silly + i like him so much

YOUVE ACTUVATED . MY AUTISM

Makes a bulleted list

-full name Giovanni Morningstar, both of them chosen rather than given. Ooc I chose Giovanni because he is actually vaguely based on my pc from a different ttrpg, and that characters middle name is Giovanni. And Morningstar is a reference to The Devil. like from the bible dksgsjhd

-his divine blood specifically comes from Sharess, goddess of hedonism and indulgence that vanished when dnd 5e came out during the second sundering . So it is no surprise he is motivated almost entirely by hedonism

-he does not know this.

-he’s definitely not her only descendant but he’s her only descendant that inherited any of her magic

-he was not always a tiefling

-he didn’t always have access to his divine magic

-the previous two points were sparked by the same event

-he was born in waterdeep! Not baldurian but gets around enough to know some things

-wanted magic desperately but had absolutely 0 talent for it before his divine magic awakened so he learned the next best thing: stealing shit. Man has been conning and pickpocketing and just generally getting up to thievery and tomfoolery since he was like. 8 (charlatan background)

-folk hero background could fit him pretty well too! Before he got Tadpoled he sorta wandered from place to place helping common folks and robbing rich people blind. Sort of a Robin Hood type guy but he did also keep a good bit of money lol

-he’s a trans man :] no surgeries and he doesn’t want them, though he does take wizard testosterone or whatever it would be in dnd. Probably a potion or something

-queer and poly!! I imagine he has a couple lovers across the sword coast, some he’s going steady with and others he’s sort of off and on with. He’s so lucky he lives in a world where teleportation exists and is not that hard all things considered im so jealous fr (I’ve also decided that his dream guardian looks suspiciously like one of his boyfriends). Worm nerfing his magic has unfortunately made keeping in touch a bit harder but he’s been managing

-his blood is a pretty potent magical power source and several people have tried to abduct him to use him as a conduit for spells or rituals because of this. I imagine after That Scene™️ with Astarion he was like “oh shit I should’ve warned him about that. Oh well he seems fine” . In the moment he was too focused on there being a hot vampire straddling him

-his tattoos are tied to his magic and glow when he casts spells. You can tell which way he’s about to fucking get you because he’s conveniently color-coded

-may or may not be on the brink of turning into a mind flayer but I’m sure that’s like. Fine.

WAIT I just remember I made a dnd character sheet for him before I ever got bg3 and I wrote a whole background thing as well as a value/ flaw for him . I’ll put those under a read more tho this is already kinda long

this part is written ooc!!

“Sharp, charismatic, and hedonistic to a fault. He has a silver tongue and a knack for deception, able to lie his way into and out of nearly any situation. He’s been driven out of many towns for his infernal heritage, alongside the myriad cons and schemes he often pulls on the wealthy, though he’s welcomed into just as many as a minor celebrity, and in some cases, a hero. This suits him just fine, though; he’s always been one to dance from place to place anyway. He enjoys finery of all kinds, and is happy to trade fine food, drink, clothing and accessories for coin… though he much prefers to offer favors as payment. He does have many talents after all; a quick-fingered thief, an excellent negotiator, a ruthless conman, a somewhat formidable sorcerer, a gifted storyteller, and if it suits your fancy, an escort (though he does charge extra for events)… as well as some other things, of course~”

“It is fairly difficult to draw his ire;he’s more than willing to forgive and forget most wrongs against him. But it would be wise not to test his limits too much; his normally capricious manner becomes cold and relentless when he feels punishment is owed. People who hurt those he cares about often walk away with gruesome scars… if they walk away at all.”

And then I have a ummm ideals and flaw section written in character cause these are on his character sheet

Ideals: “The safety and happiness of those close to me matters far more than any laws, or the ‘greater good’”

Flaws: “I’ve been called self-serving on many occasions, and I’m always weak to a bit of liquor and a pretty face”

I am sure I will think of more things to say about him I inevitably always do but I’m a little sleepy so I’m ending this post now!!

#necro-hamster #giovanni morningstar #bg3 #bg3 tav #my ocs #combat answers #asks

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alstroemeriadissonance · 2 years

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Killshot (Part 2 - NSFW)

Part 1 here

Assassin hijinks AU where the Duke is hunted by an inept, yet persistent assassin named Rosa

Both Vyn and Rosa are extra unhinged to the point of being OOC.

This bears the tag of Rape/Non-Con in AO3 cross-post. Please do not read if this type of content upsets you. You may want to check here for the complete tag list

Last night, the Duke’s study

The moment her open palm hit the Duke squarely on his cheek Rosa knew that she would most probably never leave this manor, not alive anyway; but she did not care—all she wanted to do at that very moment was to kick the smug grin off his face; but his close proximity and the fact that she was still seated on the chair didn’t allow her much room for movement, much less righteous violence.

Yet instead of the seething indignation she expected from the obviously proud aristocrat there was only a wry, knowing grin on his lips.

He stood there, looking at her with a vaguely amused stare, as he rubbed his cheek.

No words came from him, but in Rosa’s TV-sitcom trained mind he might as well have said something like “you impudent wench”.

However, what he actually said was something that she did not expect:

“There will be hot food waiting for you here, every six in the evening,” he said, hand still holding his stricken cheek.

Shame, looks like I didn’t hit him enough to draw blood, came her thought, before his words finally sunk in.

Wait…what…?

“Do not waste my good graces, little girl,” the Duke continued. “Especially since the food will be prepared by my hands.” He dropped his smile. “There are no staff here, for obvious reasons, and I would rather slit my throat than let someone inept have free rein over my kitchen.”

Not knowing how to respond to yet another snark he just threw at her, Rosa merely stood up from the chair, and started to make her way towards the door.

“And, in case you did not understand, my moppet, I just gave you a hint to help you along.” His voice was curt, yet edged with just a little bit of glee. “Do be mi—”

“Yes, I get it,” Rosa cut in, scathingly, as she reached for the gilded doorknob. “This stupid and inept little girl will drop by maybe around before six in the evening to stab you in the back while you’re cooking.”

With those words Rosa slipped out of the study and slammed the door closed behind her, leaving the Duke while she could still retain what little dignity and composure she had left.

Now…

Rosa looked around her.

Everything immediately outside the Duke’s study was dimmer by far. What greeted her the moment she exited the study was a shadowy corridor with scant lighting: Plush red carpeting lined the floor; warm light bulbs installed in bronze wall sconces cast strange, elongated shadows across the length of the passageway.

The fleur-de-lis patterned walls—which seemed to close in on her if she tried to look at them through her peripheral vision—were sparsely decorated with forgettable pieces of artwork that she would never pay any attention to, yet probably cost more than twice her lifetime.

They did tell her during the briefing that the manor was abandoned; but the stale air and the feel that everything seemed suspended in time only drove the palpable emptiness all too easily.

Rosa took a deep breath, steeling herself. Alright. Maybe if you think this is a game, everything will be easier.

Yeah, she tried to convince herself. He did say this is now a game.

He said there were weapons in each room, she recalled as she started to quietly traverse the corridor, her footsteps muffled by the luxurious thick carpet. If she wasn’t mulling about how to take the Master of the manor’s life she would have fully enjoyed how cozy the manor seemed; right now the opulence only felt stifling, suffocating.

Even more so with the threat of the Duke’s presence looming over her.

Not willing to be on the same floor as the Duke’s study—she supposed his bedroom would be nearby or adjacent to it—Rosa walked on for what seemed to be an eternity, until she reached the staircase at the end of the corridor.

It was a grand, gilded staircase that bridged the east and west wings of the manor.

Certainly a marker of just how palatial the residence actually was.

Having emerged from the west wing, Rosa wondered if the east wing would be totally deserted and comfortably far from the Duke’s room and study.

She needed to get away from the Duke, to be as far away from him as possible—if it was even possible at all—not for fear of her life or any similar urge towards self-preservation, but for her sanity.

Rosa only spent only a couple of hours at most with him, but the time seemed to stretch forever. It was already bad enough that she threw herself into a fool’s errand, believing that she could save her brother’s life and preserve her chastity at the same time.

Of course, the moment she crashed into his study, not able to unsheathe her knife—she realized that she well and truly did bite off more than she could possibly chew.

Saving Luke was paramount, and that was not up for debate. What was, however, was preserving her chastity, and how much pittance she could even earn if she deigned to discard it.

Rosa remembered the Duke’s rather unsavory words, which implied she may use her body as a weapon…

I should have gone with prostitution instead, Rosa laughed bitterly to herself as her eyes swept over the grandiose interior in front of her, taking in everything and nothing at the same time as she was lost in her thoughts. I wonder if it's too late to knock on his door and offer myself—

She winced. What was she thinking? Did she really want to get naked and in bed with someone who knows she wants to kill him, and who threw her nothing but patronizing insults every minute? He’d probably just list down how ugly I am, while he fucks me…

The sheer abhorrence at the idea jolted Rosa out of her untimely thoughts, and she realized that she spent more than a few moments standing like an idiot by the staircase; a sitting duck waiting to be killed.

Right. Look for a room first. Self-pity later.

As she descended the west part of the grand staircase, Rosa spied a large portrait hung on the wall right above where the east and west stairs joined; under the dim incandescent lights she could make out two figures in the huge painting: an elegant, elderly lady seated on a red plush chair, and a strapping, decorated young man—most probably the Duke—standing behind her, just off her right side. His face beamed with a soft, gentle smile. Most probably on artistic license (or aristocratic coercion); the Duke that she came to know just now did not seem capable of such warmth.

Also…

Isn’t she a bit too old to be his mother? Came her passing thought, only to be immediately forgotten after the next few minutes.

===

It only took Rosa less than thirty minutes of wandering the east wing of the manor to pick a vacant room as her base of sorts. All rooms were unlocked, but could be locked from the inside. She then pushed the doorknob lock of her new room and bolted it for good measure, after confirming that it was indeed empty.

Yes, the Duke called her all sorts of insults, but he did not lie or deceive at the very least: all rooms were comfortable, yes; and all of them had their own bathrooms.

And, Rosa eventually learned as she combed through her chosen chamber, rifling through the cabinets, drawers, bedsheets, even the bath—the bit about every room having weapons turned out to be true as well.

The madman fitted this out as a fortress of sorts. Eh, different strokes.

They were placed in such a way where the weapons could only be discovered by those who intended to occupy the room, as opposed to temporarily holing up in it to hide from certain death.

For example: a bowie knife was slipped inside one of the pillow cases—it could only be found by someone who intended to sleep on the bed. The few improvised yet effective melee weapons placed in well-thought out spots in the bathroom, including the shower; all easily at hand even in the unfortunate event of being attacked while doing the duty in the toilet.

There was even a smallsword propped against the bureau, in a corner hidden from view except for the person using the very desk.

Rosa sighed, and the tiredness immediately set in, even as her mind processed the reality of her being surrounded by weapons, close to death every day for the next week, and possibly getting herself killed on the last day.

But Luke…as long as Luke is safe…If I manage…

Tomorrow will come, at least.

Seeing everything in place she dove right into the bed, and willed herself to sink into the comfortable embrace of silken sheets that she could never, ever afford, not even if she sold her body…

===

The winter sun was already about to set when she woke up the next day.

Oh. Oh no.

Rosa stirred in the all-too comfortable sheets, still fully clothed—not that she planned on shedding her clothes anyway, she wasn’t on a vacation—and bolted upright.

The LED clock by the nightstand indicated that it was already past 1 PM.

She had been asleep for more than twelve hours.

Well, it isn’t as if there’s any schedule to—

A strange clunking sound seeped through the glass windows that blocked the winter cold. Curious, Rosa slipped out of the sheets and padded over to the window overlooking the smooth white expanse of snowy nothing, sparsely broken by the occasional black, frozen tree.

The rhythmic cadence of the strange sound—like wooden wheels, or something similar—grew louder, and eventually the thing that made it entered her sights: It was a large wheelbarrow being pushed by the Duke himself. The silver head of hair was unmistakable.

And he did mention something about the wheelbarrow, last night…

Her eyes slightly widened as the ominous dark stains on the tray bed. And there were smears of bright crimson. Fresh.

Her blood ran cold. He wasn’t fucking kidding.

He wasn’t.

With sleep finally bringing clarity to her mind, Rosa found herself overwhelmed with the awareness that yes, she willingly walked into a death game with someone who dumped bodies to god knows where on a daily basis.

But he…he did say he won’t retaliate. That I can use any methods I’d like.

He won’t retaliate.

I have a week.

She sunk into the carpet, hugging her knees as she desperately ran several ideas on how to possibly kill the Duke. She was beyond being scared for herself; no, what she felt was a desperation to make sure that her brother lives to see another day after the week lapses.

Okay. Think.

The loud sound of the wheelbarrow being pushed interrupted her thoughts, and Rosa once again stood up, willing herself to look out the window and stare at her mark, somehow.

He was already almost far into the sprawling garden just across the manor, and all she could see was his back.

His back…splattered red with blood.

Judging from how he moved without any problems, Rosa supposed the blood wasn’t his.

Again she felt a plummeting sensation deep in her stomach. Oh god. That could be mine, once the week ends. Also, all that blood would be a bitch to wash off…

Wash off…

Rosa blinked.

She now had an idea.

===

Back to the present.

“Do you not like what you see?”

Rosa could only stare back at the naked man pinning her down onto the wet tiles of his bathroom.

Not having had the chance to towel his damp hair, shower water dripped from his waterlogged silver locks, forming rivulets that flowed down the sides of her face.

Yet as distracting as the water running down her skin could have been, Rosa did not take notice; her eyes were locked onto deep gold brimming with nothing but what appeared to be either mirth, or ridicule.

She bet her entire life on the latter.

So much for my bright idea, she thought to herself as the Duke bore down on her, his hands holding her wrists to the floor. Her lower body started to feel a little numb with how he shifted most of his weight down her waist, his strong thighs holding her in place.

“See what?” Staring down certain death, while still having enough pluck to feel indignant, gave Rosa the suicidal courage to not care about what happens as a result of her words.

“Certainly looking a little average down there, milord. Or whatever you fancy people call yourselves.”

The truth was, Rosa could not even find it in herself to give herself a good look down there without burning in utter embarrassment, and so she never really got to see his equipment.

The Duke’s hold slackened a bit as he gave himself into laughter. It was nothing cynical, but a pure, delighted laugh. “Ah–hahaha! Gods,” he chuckled, then tightened his hold on her wrists again the moment he felt the slightest of movements. “Little moppet.” He flashed her a sardonic smile. “I find you interesting. But—”

He moved her wrists, now pinned single-handedly right above her head.

With his other hand now free, the Duke felt around for the knife that he knocked off from her grip earlier.

He gave the blade a cursory glance before he gripped it, bringing the tip of the blade to the base of her neck. “So you managed to find this. Well done, pet.”

With a knife held right above her Rosa could only think, Ah, well, and with her limbs held down there wasn't much she could do but stare at the very thing that would sever her life.

She was surprised at herself, at how anticlimactic everything felt; what was supposed to spur her sense of desperation and self-preservation only served to remind of the hopelessness of her circumstances.

Maybe it would be better if she just threw in the towel.

She expelled a long, drawn out sigh as she closed her eyes. “I tried…”

“You forget that I did tell you, I will not retaliate,” the Duke said. “Open your eyes.”

Oh. Right…

She did forget.

Slowly she opened her eyes, apprehensive of what she was about to see.

The knife was still held above her, the overhead lights above making the blade glitter with an ominous luster. Yet the face of the man bearing down on her was bereft of any murderous intent; in his eyes was the faintest glimmer of amusement instead. “But tell me, why did you charge at me here? Am I not allowed to have some semblance of privacy, especially when you know I would be naked?”

Rosa gritted her teeth before giving her explanation. “I didn’t think you’d expect me before six in the evening,” she mumbled. “And I saw you push the wheelbarrow earlier. I knew you had to take a shower…”

The Duke let himself give in to another bout of laughter. “Did you really think there is a schedule for vigilance? Heh. But, bonus points for that bit of observation. Yes, I will be loathe to walk around sporting their filthy blood on my person.

“But with that said…” The knife-bearing hand lowered, the blade-tip lightly touching the collar of her heavy sweater. “You will not last in a real fight. Not even for a second.”

Then the Duke set out to work with the blade, much to her confusion.

It was only when Rosa could hear the sound of clothing being sliced and ripped apart did she realize what was happening. “Wait. What—” Her eyes went wide as he worked on slicing, ripping, tearing the fabric from her with methodical precision.

Oh…Oh fuck.

Oh shit.

Both of his hands have long let go of her wrists, and are now preoccupied with the task of undressing her; but not even Rosa herself was foolhardy enough to attempt anything on someone who held her at knifepoint.

“I did say I will not retaliate at your attempts to outright murder me, little pet,” the Duke murmured as the blade slipped underneath the garter of her brassiere, just right between the cups, slicing it neatly.

Both halves of her bra fell off, revealing her breasts.

“But, there will still be consequences. Especially when you violate tenets of basic human decency, such as privacy in the bathroom." He pursed his lips.

"And do not make the mistake of thinking I will let attempts to take my life slide as if they were nothing.”

Rosa gasped as the flat of the blade brushed one of her nipples. “Like you said, I am trying to kill someone. Everything is game.”

“Mhm. That is true,” he hummed in agreement, moving on to remove the clothing on her lower body. “So are the consequences that result from bungling your attempts to commit murder. High risk. High reward.” After making several slices along the length of her pants he tugged at it with such force that the ripping sound resounded loudly within the bathroom walls. “You do understand this, at least?”

And left her with nothing but her panties and boots on her person.

“Beautiful,” he whispered as his gold eyes appreciated her prone form, then tossed the knife away into the farthest corner of the bathroom.

With the threat of the knife gone, Rosa finally dared to move, yet it was only to preserve whatever scrap of modesty she had left: her arms crossed on her chest, covering her breasts as much as she could. “And the consequence this time, I suppose, is to have your way with me, is that it?” she asked, guardedly.

A breathy chuckle. “What do you think?”

Rosa could only look away as he leaned down to plant a small kiss on her cheek, his hands pulling her arms down by the wrists…

And expose her bare breasts for his pleasure.

“It has been quite some time since I have last known a woman's touch.” The Duke pinned her hands above her head once again. “But at the very least I now get to have a say in who I share my bed with, this time,” he mumbled, more to himself, as he moved his body over hers.

The hardness rubbing against the crotch of her panties could no longer be ignored. “And so for your lesson today,” he whispered—his voice now low and sultry—against her ear, “Nothing is ever free.”

A whimper escaped Rosa’s lips as he started grinding his hard cock against her clothed sex in earnest. “Y-you told me I can try as many times as I want…”

“Yes, I did,” he replied as he nipped at her earlobe. “But I did not say there will be nothing in exchange.” Teeth grazed the tender skin underneath her jaw. “Did you really think you can try to kill someone and expect them to greet your attempts at their life with open arms?

“Silly girl,” he said with a tender voice, as if he was calling her with an affectionate endearment. “You are lucky you are playing this game with me. Others may not be so…” A wet kiss on her neck. “...gentle.”

Then his free hand crept to one of her breasts, hungrily groping her soft, yielding flesh with his long, slender fingers.

Despite herself Rosa found herself sighing under his ministrations: his hand kneading her mound with his palm teasing her nipple to stiffness; his cock grinding hard against her now moist cunt. She wasn’t sure if the dampness came from the wet tiles of the bathroom, or if it was something else causing it…

Her breathing became shallower, and she could feel heat rising to her face. “Nngh…”

Oh for Christ’s sake, Rosa gritted her teeth as she weakly tried to wrest away from his lecherous grasp. I only wanted to save my brother.

Fucking hell.

“Hm?” The Duke took a deep breath, as if composing himself, and stopped his movements. “Ah. You do not like this?”

Goddamnit.

Rosa was loath to admit that she actually enjoyed whatever he was doing, and a surreptitious glance at the man holding her down—lithe, toned body glistening and wet from the shower; his immensely pretty face framed by his hair, still damp and faintly smelling of shampoo—made her acutely aware how easy he was on the eyes.

“You’re doing this against my will,” Rosa muttered. “How can I like this? Are you fucking insane,” she added, scathingly.

She did not add the unnecessary detail that her resentment, her words, were actually aimed at herself; how dare she even check out the man who acted as if he had every right to toy with her however he wished?

What the fuck am I thinking?

The Duke looked pensive, for a moment. “Very well then.” He pulled away from her and stood up, brusquely, then offered her his hand—which was in turn ignored.

Rosa chose to stand up by herself, staggering upright, supporting her own by grabbing the nearby towel bar. “I can stand up on my own, thank you very much,” she said curtly, her thoughts—and emotions—quietly in turmoil.

Realizing that she no longer had clothes—the only clothes she had, the ones on her back, all ripped into shreds and strewn beneath her feet—she could only wrap her arms around herself.

Well. There were some clothes in the cabinet, I think.

“My apologies for getting carried away,” the Duke murmured as he reached out for a silk robe hanging from a nearby rack, the color of dark juniper. “Here. Cover yourself with this. There should be serviceable clothing in any of the rooms, even if most of them were procured for a male in mind.”

Rosa wordlessly took it, and slipped it on.

The robe smelled of the man: woodsy scents mixed in with pleasant musk.

She was by now extremely annoyed at herself for even taking note of these things despite what just happened, and what was currently happening.

As soon as she tied the robe’s ivory silken waist tie she started to make her way out of the bathroom. She must have looked quite sullen, as the Duke held his tongue while he followed her into his bedroom proper, with only a towel wrapped around his waist.

He broke the silence with, “There will be dinner in the study later.”

“Mm.” Her hand was about to reach for the doorknob leading out of the room when he added, his voice once again edged with just a hint of derision, “But I suggest you think twice before attacking me while I cook. I would be in a room full of knives.”

This made Rosa turn around sharply, to look at him straight in eye as she started to retort, “Look, listen here, yo—”

Yet her words trailed off into nothingness as soon as her eyes landed on his figure, and there was only silence to be had for the next few moments.

Her mouth struggled to find words, only to close as soon as Rosa realized she didn’t quite know what to say about the epiphany that struck her mind so suddenly.

“What.” The Duke looked back at her, a silver eyebrow raised; as if he wasn’t parading in front of her half naked with underwear in his hand.

Rosa’s lips stretched into a taut smile.

Haha. I’m going to die anyway, who the hell am I kidding?

I don’t know why the Duke is toying with me, but he’s most probably just the usual bored aristocrat.

There was a part inside of her that still screamed something about saving her brother, but the stark realization that nothing she could ever do would dig her out of the hellhole she got herself into easily stamped out whatever hope she had.

Why not tick some items off my bucket list before I die?

With those thoughts running through her head, Rosa flashed him a smile twisted with melancholy and foolhardy desperation. “Hey, I changed my mind,” she said, her voice strained. “I just realized how dumb I was for turning down a fuck of a lifetime. I mean,” she let out a dry, sardonic chuckle. “The Duke himself? I’m sorry. I take everything I said back.”

“Whatever do you mean.” His voice lost inflection and tone; clearly the man was unamused at her sudden turn. “What are you playing at.”

“What I said, um. Haha.” Rosa waffled whether to laugh or cry; she honestly didn’t know what she was feeling at this point, except for the palpable sensation of despair. “Well? Or am I suddenly no longer hot stuff?”

His brows furrowed, his gold eyes studying her closely as he did yesterday when he tried to obtain information from her. “Tell me why you changed your mind, so suddenly.”

“Simple,” Rosa pursed her lips. “Once the week lapses…if I don’t get killed here, they will kill me, and they’ll probably kill my bedridden brother in front of me, too.”

The Duke seemed to ponder on what she said. “And you believe you cannot hope to win against me.”

“Yes. Like you always say, I'm stupid. So,” Another forced smile. “Why not enjoy the few days I have left?”

“The logic does make sense,” he said, conceding. “But I do admit that I prefer the reckless, impudent, yet proud girl who sought out to hunt a dragon. Even so,” he beckoned to her. “I suppose your change of mind is my fault.” He allowed himself a curt smile. “I shall take responsibility. I still am a healthy man, after all.” He gestured towards the barely-hidden tent that formed in his towel. “Come.”

Taking in a deep breath, Rosa walked away from the door and approached him slowly, not knowing what to expect.

As soon as she was within his arms reach he tugged at the end of the silken waist tie and deftly undid it, pulling it off the robe’s belt loops. With one swift motion he also slipped the robe off her shoulders, discarding the garment to the floor. “Excuse me,” he murmured as he took hold of Rosa’s shoulders to turn her around; with the silken strip he tied her hands securely to her back.

“Haha, kinky,” Rosa still found it in herself to quip. “How nice.” She let herself be pushed onto the king-sized bed, her prone body lying face down on the soft sheets.

“This is for my protection, of course,” the Duke said as he bent down to plant kisses along her spine. The towel he used to cover himself was tugged off and thrown aside; Rosa could feel his dick jutting against the back of her thigh.

His hand idly caressed her ass. “Are you sure this is truly what you want?” He asked as his lips found their way to her nape, his hot breath a welcome comfort from the cold air in the Duke’s chamber. “What happened to wanting to save your…bedridden brother?”

“Please just fuck me,” came Rosa’s plea. “I’d rather not think about what I’m doing right now.”

“Ah, but this is why you will not last a second in a true fight,” he whispered, his silken voice now a couple of octaves lower, as he slid against her back, preparing to take her. “Thinking several steps ahead is paramount for survival.” He slipped his hands underneath her to shamelessly paw at her breasts; his hips once again moved to rub his now fully erect cock between her asscheeks.

One of his groping hands crept downwards to finger her wet, aroused cunt. “Heh. And I thought you did not like what I was doing.”

A finger slipped inside her easily, and Rosa could only let out a faint gasp as it started to thrust in and out of her. She bit her lip, wincing, not in pain but for how different it felt, compared to when she used to fondle herself on cold, lonely nights…

Her apprehension did not escape him. “Are you in discomfort? You are tensing up,” he noted, his movements not missing a beat. “I do not like to share my bed with unwilling women.”

“N-no, that’s not it,” Rosa almost whimpered. Yet her body became rigid, despite how well she responded to his touches: her hips moved against the palm of his fondling hand, and she arched her back in response to his lips planting wet kisses down her nape and shoulder.

It was as if she didn’t know what to expect, or what to do…

The Duke hazarded a guess. “...Or are you still untouched?”

“I guess not anymore,” she remarked. “Not with how you’re fingering me, at least.”

“Hmm.”

With gentle yet firm hands he undid the silken bonds around her wrists, and nudged her into lying on her back, propping her over a pile of pillows. He then took hold of her hands yet again, securing them to the decorative rod set above the headboard with the silk waist tie.

“Is this more comfortable for you?” he asked, not waiting for a reply as he leaned down for an openmouthed kiss.

She nodded, wordlessly opening her lips to let him taste her.

To Rosa’s surprise she found kissing him quite pleasant; his tongue led hers into his mouth, and as he sucked on her tongue she could feel her pussy throb; she was by now incredibly turned on.

None of her initial fears ever manifested, not right now anyway, and the Duke turned out to be quite the gentleman in bed especially after he managed to suss out that she was inexperienced. He took his time with her, seemingly taking note of where she liked to be touched; she loved it when he ran his palms over her nipples, for one, and she also moaned aloud when he used his tongue to run a trail along her collarbone.

She was also very vocal when he teased her cunt with the lightest of touches of his fingers, and even more so when he slipped a finger inside her.

��Nngh—please,” she moaned out loud. “Let me come…”

Her thighs were now rubbing against each other, his hand still sandwiched in between. “Please,” she begged.

“Then come you shall,” he whispered as he shifted on the bed, positioning himself between her legs. Yet instead of wrapping them around his waist to take her, he instead let her legs drape over his shoulders.

Rosa’s eyes went wide as soon as his tongue-tip made contact with her pussy; slowly he tongued her to heightened arousal: he focused on her clit, tongue drawing circles around the stiff, sensitive bud between her legs.

“Oh god,” Rosa moaned, her legs now pulling him closer to her cunt. “I can’t…ahh!”

This time two fingers slid into her swollen flesh, the thrusting of his digits in time with the alternating flicking and sucking on her clit.

She was almost driven to tears now, still confused if it was because of sheer electric pleasure that thrummed through her entire body, or as a result of pure guilt at abandoning her and her brother’s fate for a moment’s worth of carnal ecstasy.

Finally her entire body shuddered; Rosa moaned out loud as she gave herself into one of the best orgasms she had ever experienced, her hips grinding against the mouth and hand that pushed her over the sweet edge of rapture.

“Well? Did you find my performance acceptable?” the Duke asked, licking her juices off his lips as he pulled away.

Rosa did not—or could not—reply, still catching her breath.

He lay beside her, one hand pulling her close for a deep kiss. As Rosa let him drink kisses off her quivering lips she could feel him move against her thigh; when she looked down she found out he was jerking himself off with his free hand as he made out with her.

“Hm? Aren’t you? Um…” She found it difficult to articulate her question out loud. “...Going to fuck me?”

“I only screw women who want me, pet,” came his urgent answer, his breathing becoming more shallow as he chased his release. “Not those who are…desperate.”

“But I—”

He shut her up with a deep kiss.

Their breaths, moans mingled as the Duke neared his climax, and Rosa, in a fit of inspiration mixed with bravado, blurted out, “Please, untie me,” she begged. “I want to hold you…”

“Heh,” he smirked against her mouth, but reached up and tugged the silken tie loose anyway, then continued with his now frenzied masturbation as he resumed their kissing.

Rosa coiled an arm around his shoulder, and her other hand ran along his back, relishing the feel of his cool skin underneath her palm as their tongues slid and danced against each other.

Her eyes fluttered open as soon as she felt him starting to tense up, about to come, and the hand caressing him moved to slip inside the pillowcase underneath her head…

…and pulled out the knife hidden in the pillow, making sure the Duke was distracted with their kissing to notice his impending death.

Yet when she brought her knife wielding hand down hard towards his exposed back, his hand quickly let go of his cock and struck her arm away, knocking off the blade and sending it spiraling down onto the carpeted floor.

“Yess—ahh!” With an unhinged grin the Duke came in copious spurts, spilling his hot white fluid all over Rosa’s belly.

It was as if her clumsy attempt on his life aroused him so much that it pushed him into orgasm. “Yes, that is more like it,” his words came in a guttural groan. “That is what I want to see from you. Hahaha…” He then tightened his embrace, this time with her wrists pulled down as he lapped up more of her kisses from her still pliant mouth.

“I tried,” she breathed after surfacing, almost drowned by his intense kisses. “I really, truly tried…”

“Yes you did, little pet,” he murmured approvingly. “And look, you even drew blood.”

He showed her where the blade clipped the back of his shoulder; blood trickled down his arm, dripping onto her skin and the silken sheets. “You almost became the black widow who would take my life, but alas, you need to do better.” He grinned.

“Please, don’t ruin my nice mood with another of your patronizing insults, milord,” Rosa murmured as she leaned forward for another kiss.

Might as well enjoy this man while either of us is still alive.

“It is Vilhelm.” He returned her kiss with his languorous own.

“What?”

“It is not milord, call me Vilhelm,” he repeated. “Though in a more ideal situation I would rather you call me Vyn, but…ah.” A flash of an emotion indecipherable crossed his face. “That is neither here nor there, now…

“I will amend our game, just a little,” he said as he lay on his back, pulling her on top of him. “In your next attempt, if you successfully draw blood once more, I will truly fuck you.”

Rosa blinked at him. “Oi. I know you’re bored, but are you this bored?”

Gunshots rang outside, and her head snapped to look at the general direction where the sound came from. “What the—”

“Nevermind that,” Vilhelm drawled. “It happens every day. Now,” he tipped her face towards his by the chin, forcing her to look and pay attention to him only. “Your name.”

“Rosa.”

His eyes scanned her once more. Then, “And your brother’s name?”

“What is it to you?” she frowned. “Why do you care—”

“His name, little Rosa.”

“...Luke.”

He gazed intently at her all the while, and finding her answers—and body language—passable, he repeated his new terms. “If you want a good lay,” he murmured, voice lowered and enticing, “Do your best. Try to maim me, even. Heh.” He licked his lips. “Though of course, if you manage to kill me…” his voice trailed off.

“Are you saying I can fuck you as you’re dying?” Rosa remarked, drily.

“I like your sense of humor,” Vilhelm grinned at her. “But why not. That is fine. If I fall prey to such an ignoble end then I deserve it.”

“You’re on, then.”

And thus the game finally started, in earnest.

===

After reminding the woman of the dinner that would wait for her in the study at six in the evening, Vilhelm finally let Rosa go.

“No. I apologize for making you worry. I am relatively unharmed, the wound is only a scratch,” he said to the person at the other end of the line, phone held to his ear, as he walked over to the window facing the great blank canvas of white spread out under the winter night sky. “My indiscretions are none of your concern. I do not wish to hear that again from you.”

He passively listened to the string of admonishments that streamed from the phone’s receiver into his ear.

“Any luck with the investigation?” Then, after getting a positive response, “Good. I finally have names that you can check: Rosa, and Luke. I suggest you start with immigration, specifically records of entry…”

#tears of themis fanfic #vyn richter #vyn richter smut #tears of themis au #mo yi #tot au

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ramblingaboutglee · 1 year

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As a non-Klaine fan I’m just curious, why do you think they work well together?

I think it depends on the season you're asking about - it feels like klaine never really have a set dynamic, and charting that course is part of what makes them interesting to me.

In season 2, realistically speaking the plot was "The only other gay kid they know that's not kinda a jerk," and it was a cute first love dynamic, but half the drama in S2 was the fact they didn't really know one another at all. It's not, at that point, the bedrock of any long-lasting relationship.

So for me, it's interesting to see how they shift? Like, honestly to begin with, they seem to like the idea of the other more than the reality. Which, it happens - you've got Blaine trying to be more mature and wise than he actually is, Kurt clearly buying it, etc. Then Blaine's uncertainties rear their head in a way no one's ready for, and they have a lot of adjustments to make. And then, four/five years later, they're married.

So that development, honestly, is a compelling one to me.

I've rambled about this before - when it comes to Glee, I feel like most of the early-season ships were never viewed by the writers as epic love stories for the ages, but rather as temporary relationships that would likely end with graduation. From that perspective, there are kind of two iterations of Klaine to talk about. Pre S4's break-up, and post.

Before, they were a mess. Neither of them knew how a relationship really worked, both of them struggled to act sensibly, both of them could be dumbasses at points, and honestly it's generally endearing - they're navigating unfamiliar waters, with the extra dose of queerness thrown in meaning they're much more on their own. I think it's a good journey for both of them individually, though Klaine was more a vehicle for the two of them than something with its own life.

(In-show anyway. Hard to deny the real life impact)

Then we have the break-up, and ooh I really want to ramble that episode at some point. The short version is, for Klaine, Blaine switched schools for Kurt, Kurt graduated, and he's left alone without most of his old friends. he's isolated, Kurt's distracted and struggling to relate while dealing with adult life drama, Blaine messes up. (Which, I am so curious to figure out the fandom view of that. I have one friend who mentioned she thought it was OoC because she viewed Blaine as someone who needed an emotional connection, while to me he'd always seemed more sexual, so idk. I think Glee definitely runs into fanon taking on a life of its own which makes untangling everything trickier)

If we fast forward to when Klaine end up together again, it makes for an interesting contrast. By that point, Kurt is much more sure of who he is, and presumably Blaine is as well, if to a lesser degree. They always had a vague 'first crush' thing, but for me it is this point where Klaine start being a relationship that functions well as, like, a relationship as opposed to just mutual character growth. They chafe, a ghost of their old 'Sometimes they, Blaine especially, focus on an idea and misses the reality' (which is suchhh a throughline to so many people on Glee) but they're much better at working through it.

Even then, it's not perfect, but even what we see of the break-up seems to be handled much better by them compared to S4.

And then there's the terrifying Sue robot. Ah, Glee.

All that to say - for me, Kurt and Blaine individually are good characters. Kurt, the quieter gay kid growing in confidence over years, and Blaine the optimist and daydreamer who sometimes spirals out when things inevitably don't go to plan. Kurt makes for an interesting counterpoint - to begin with, he's the one who almost looks up to Blaine, only to find out that most of Blaine's confidence is an act. It's a relationship where they both draw one another into unexpected territory, good and bad, and have to work out how to navigate it. If nothing else, Klaine is something that pushes both of them forwards.

I don't necessarily view it as the be-all and end-all of ships, I don't think it's the most compelling dynamic in the show, nor necessarily the sweetest - though they do have cute moments - but it's a relationship that helps draw out two characters, and gets rooted in surprisingly grounded drama of two people in a relationships learning to, well, share space. Especially in late S5, that serves to play off of Blaine's tendency to romanticise, and then Kurt's inherent defensiveness, so they end up as a ship that definitely have things to overcome. But then, that is part of what can make a dynamic interesting.

No idea if I put my view well but hey, you ask this blog a question and you get a ramble I guess.

#Glee #Klaine #Blaine Anderson #Kurt Hummel #Ask

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o5-the-daughter · 2 years

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Mod question time!

What is a piece of media (a book, a song, a poem, etc.) that inspired something about your muse/s? Their style, their personality, maybe their name?

Alternatively: what is a piece of media that both you and your muse/s do/would enjoy?

OOC answer:

My first inspiration for Seven was a very specific song - Eleanor Rigby, specifically the Cody Fry Cover that I've shared when music related questions came up in the past. Specifically the beautiful chorus of "Look at all the lonely people" inspired a great part of Seven's personality and especially her world view, in which she sees herself as this almost divine, other being watching the regular people below live their lives.

Another inspiration for especially her appearance is the 1920s actress Clara Bow. This is mainly where Seven's hairstyle and generally vague 20s aesthetic originated - a lovely picture of Bow is also one I referenced for the first ever drawing of Seven!

And, as an addition: the names "Eleanor Rigby" and "Clara Bow" ended up forming her name as Clara Rigby! (Though I was thinking about Eleanor Bow before, but I decided there were already enough muses who's name/nickname is Ellie or something similar! /lh)

Another one I'd like to share is the song They're Only Human, which was an early basis for how I wanted Seven's and Eight's relationship to be like. A nice harmony of two mismatched worldviews that are fundamentally similar, but still so different.

One last thing, this time for Eight (I have lots of thoughts on this, as you see /lh): Grüne Augen lügen nicht (German, meaning "green eyes don't lie") is what his relationship to Two is based off, which I especially like since it switches perspective from Eight to Two towards the end; the song is admittedly more romantic than their relationship is, but with how (platonically) intimate they are with eachother, I think it fits them anyway!

#a questioning mind #mod.txt

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svgarpills · 2 years

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Can you write something for Naegami, about Byakuya's family not accepting their relationship and Byakuya being upset from that, and Makoto comforting him? Thanks!

OOOH ok, I normally dont write byakuya (positively) so sorry if this is OOC

Ships: Naegami

Characters: Byakuya Togami, Makoto Naegi, mentions of Byakuya's parents

Warnings: Shitty parents, mentions of homophobia and classism (not detailed)

Summary: Byakuya Togami doesn’t care what other people think...unless it’s his parents.

*Can possibly be seen as being set in some vague non-despair/Hope’s Peak AU. I have never written naegami but...here we go!

"Honestly, Byakuya, why would you do something so idiotic?"

Byakuya's reputation is someone cold and uncaring, a rich teen with little care for anyone around him. In some ways he supposes it's true, but Makoto brings out weird emotions in him. Soft emotions that he would normally scoff at. Maybe it makes him a hypocrite, but he's never been too concerned about what people like his classmates think.

This, however, is different. It's a feeling of cold, harsh rejection. His parents are sitting at their dinner table, an array of expensive and perfectly prepared food placed in front of them, but he doesn't feel very hungry. Every bite he manages to push past his lips tastes and feels like sand, a grainy and unpleasant mouthful. He manages to avoid eye contact by staring down at his plate.

"I agree. Do you really think that...Naegi will do anything but drag you down?" His father adds. Byakuya's grip on his fork tightens as he swallows thickly. What do they know? Their marriage is fueled by nothing but money, vague moments of tenderness few and far between. He hardly got to see them when he was young, raised by maids that were paid to watch him. The maids were a bit of a mixed bag, some of them sweet and doting, and the others sharp and bitter, only there for money.

"Well, Byakuya?" His mother asks, her voice carrying easily across the table. She's always been able to easily draw attention to herself, both with the way she carries herself and the way she speaks. Of course, she never tries to look more important than his father, it's some traditionalist value.

"...I'll think about what you said," is all he can manage to say. He wants so desperately to yell at them, but he fears being shunned like his other siblings. As much as he hates to admit it, his parents are his main source of financial stability. If he gets cut off, he doesn't know how he'll get food and shelter, let alone keep attending Hope's Peak. His parents seem to accept his answer and go back to eating, leaving him to his thoughts.

When dinner is finished, a group of workers rush in to clear the dishes, moving perfectly in sync. Byakuya takes the distraction as a chance to slip away, avoiding any further conversation. Now that it's growing dark outside, he knows what his parents will do. His father will go to his study to work on his papers, and his mother will call some of her friends so they can chat about their children and share gossip.

It gives Byakuya a chance to grab a jacket and slip out of one of the exits. The air is cold, but it's not intolerable. Usually his parents fall asleep right after their tasks, so he's not at much risk of getting caught. Besides, he's pretty sure his door is locked anyways, he hid the key in his pocket. He can slip in through a back entrance when he gets back and meet them for breakfast like nothing ever happened.

The walk to Makoto's place is somewhat long, by the time he reaches his front door his legs are aching slightly. It's not a big deal, but it adds a little bit to his already present frustration. He approaches and knocks, waiting for an answer. He could try Makoto's window, but that's not very civil. He's not some delinquent sneaking into his boyfriend's house at 3 am, this is a simple visit.

The door opens and he's greeted with, thankfully, Makoto. He doesn't mind Komaru, but she spends a lot of time with Toko. The two of them don't have as much of a bond, she seems a bit nervous around him. Makoto keeps trying to make the two of them get along better. "Oh, hi Byakuya!" Makoto flashes that stupid grin that makes him feel those weird emotions once again.

"Hello," he replies. "...Are you going to invite me in?" Makoto flushes and then scrambles, moving out of the way. Byakuya fakes annoyance as he steps in. The house is much smaller than his, but it's not horrible. It's clean, well-decorated, warm. He supposes it's good for someone like Makoto, who seems to enjoy simple things.

"...We can go to my room, if you want. Komaru isn't here right now." He nods and follows the other boy to a room decorated with small stickers. Most of them are faded and worn at the edges, signifying the amount of time they've been there. Makoto's room has an overall color scheme of green, a color he seems to enjoy a lot. Perhaps it has something to do with his odd luck. "So, what'd you come over for?"

"Just my parents being..." he cringes, trying to find the word. "Difficult." Makoto's face falls slightly, and Byakuya almost regrets saying it. Still, it's the truth, and it's not like it's a new concept to the lucky student. "I decided to come over while they were distracted, they won't notice."

"They still don't like me, huh?" Makoto asks, placing his hands in his lap as he fiddles with his fingers. His eyes are like those of a sad puppy, shiny and big. Byakuya hesitates, unsure how to deal with such raw emotions. He's always distanced himself from other people, being close to someone so open is...weird.

"Don't worry about it so much, it's not like they have any say in the matter. I'll have the company in a few years anyways." His tone is cocky as always, hiding the shred of doubt he feels. Makoto looks over and smiles softly, his emotions still clear on his face. Byakuya has no idea how he feels okay showing all his emotions like this, surely it must make him feel a bit vunerable.

"Yeah, you're right! I'm sure you'll be a great heir, Byakuya!" Makoto replies. "Since you're here, you wanna stay for a little bit? My bed is probably big enough for two people," Byakuya raises an eyebrow slightly just to make Makoto turn bright red. "Not like that!" He adds, hiding his face behind his arms. So easy, Byakuya thinks.

"Whatever, it's better than walking all the way home." His voice carries a bit of happiness in its tone, even if he's going to deny it if asked.

#byakuya togami #makoto naegi #trigger happy havoc #danganronpa #naegami #svgarprompts #angst #hurt/comfort

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grianeveryday · 3 years

Text

Welcome To Daily Grian Doodles !!

Hello ! i’m Bayani/Tommy, the admin. i use any pronouns btw.

i decided to make this account because grian is the character i will draw whenever i’m bored. i made this account as a way to keep track of all the art, so most of these are gonna be things like shitty asl class doodles or something. nothing super polished, but that’s a daily art account for you :0

art posts will be tagged with [daily grian art],ooc text posts will be tagged with [not doodle] and submitted art will be tagged with [daily grian submission] to make it easier to navigate. completely finished fanart will also be tagged with [tommy flyway’s art] as that’s my main art tag

here’s my design !! idk how nice it looks but i’m really happy with it so i don’t think i’ll be changing it much

sorry for the shit quality csp hates me ew the colors are also shit what happened

anyways to explain the design a bit (in case u wanted to know) and also an image ID is under the cut !!

i decided to add an open red coat because i like those and i just thought the grey vest looked nice. but i was also trying to keep the design to something that he could actually fly in, meaning he’d have to take off the coat. so to keep the red in the design, i added the ribbon! he’s also barefoot because i like the idea that he just walks around without shoes because it’s a power move.

Image ID: the image shows Grian, a british youtuber with light skin and shaggy brown hair, standing with his hands in his pockets. he’s wearing an open red coat, that goes down to a little over his hips, and a mid-light grey suit-vest over a button up dress shirt under it. tied under the collar of the shirt is a red ribbon. he’s wearing cuffed black capris that are a little over knee length, and no shoes. his wings are only about 8 feet long each, with bright blue coverts, red primaries, and yellow secondaries. his expression is a vaguely soft smile.

#hermitcraft #grian #grian fanart #hermitcraft fanart #daily art account #daily grian art

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chronicparagon · 3 years

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🔥 🔥 🔥 // regards role-play.

@s-talking

Send me a “ 🔥 “ for an unpopular opinion. x 3

I’m not sure if these would be unpopular. I started to rp on Tumblr in 2013 and my experience has been positive for the most part. There were a couple of situations that were rough, but that’s a rarity. But based on some experiences I’ve seen, I have a few things about rp in general. It’s below since it’s a bit long.

1. Everyone has the right to post what they want on their blog. I’m not against it and people have rights to share what’s on their mind. The thing is that if all you post is ooc stuff, especially that being negative all the time, then I get a bit uncomfortable with that. I don’t mean a few here or there, and using tags and read mores are okay. What I mean is that’s all someone posts on a rp blog.

Sometimes, I worry if I do the same like making a post rambling about cultural things that’s not relevant to Harmony, or whether I posted too many memes.I may say something about a couple things in my personal life, but I try to keep it to a minimum because I want to have my rp blog focus on Harmony. Sometimes, I get excited about something and want to share but I try to be careful with that and not make it the main focus on this blog. I had thoughts of reviving my personal blog so I can talk about culture, stories about my travels and work, and pictures of places I went.

This isn’t to say no one is allowed to post what they want. It’s just with a rp blog, it can’t be like 95% of the content. Personal blogs can help mitigate that. So can using read mores and tags, or even reaching out to friends privately instead.

Because of this, I have an open door policy to offer a safe place for people to vent or talk without having to post it. If being there for someone and listening or reading why they say helps, then I’m happy to do that.

2. I know this might be a bit touchy for some people, but it is something that I think needs to be said. It’s tricky to write as a muse who is of a different race or ethnicity. This is especially true with Indigenous muses and non-Indigenous muns. People can get upset and say that’s racism.

Indigenous people don’t have a lot of representation in media, and when they are in media, they are seen as blatant stereotypes. So, it’s understandable to be wary about things like that. However, some people go overboard. People get discouraged and called racists for writing a muse that is not the mun’s race, or drawing art of characters too. That can be damaging to people who have no intention to be racist. It’s not fair to police everyone who work hard on their muses and do their best to represent them appropriately.

The difference between when it’s okay and when it’s not okay is whether the person is willing to learn about their muse’s background. This includes reading about our history and cultures, and asking Indigenous People questions about their lives.

As an Indigenous woman, I will say this: Most of us are more than happy to share who we are to the world. We want to share our histories, our traditions, our beliefs, and our lives with people who want to listen. We want to help in giving accurate depictions of Indigenous characters in media and it that means learning about who we are, then we’re all for it. We are always open to offering information of who we are and just as curious to learn about who you are as well. Never be afraid to ask questions if it will help improve the Indigenous muse. I think the same can be said for other ethnicities and races too.

So, even if someone is not Indigenous or the same race as their muse, as long as the mun is careful, respectful, and willing to learn about the muse and their culture, then that’s perfectly fine and no one should bash them for it. All that’s needed is presenting that muse with care, love, and respect.

The only time when it’s not okay is if the person doesn’t want to learn and prefers to use stereotypes, or present that muse or character out of spite or just to be disrespectful.

3. This one is a bit tough because I’m not sure what else to say that may be unpopular. This one might be more accepting in the rpc but I want to bring it up anyway since it’s something everyone should be aware of.

RP is for fun, but it requires communication. Like, if there’s an issue or a problem about interactions or what’s going on in a thread, then that should be discussed. It’s also important to speak up if something makes you uncomfortable and see what can be done to solve the problem. There is no need to vague blog or attack people with Anon. It only stirs more anxiety and cause rifts. It’s better to reach out and start a conversation on how to resolve the issue.

#s-talking #answered #thank you!!#ooc

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stickmolus · 4 years

Photo

don’t mind the silly outfit, i got really into blaseball and i can draw my fursona in team merch if i want. (park it, garages!) anyway:

so, uh, i didnt actually expect to have to make this post? i got a couple asks and was like, okay, i understand people being mad-- charles is my comfort character, for example, so i get pretty unhappy seeing him get dealt a bad hand in fics. figured i could just handle it in-character once i got the opportunity to.

and then i got a few more asks and went “uh, okay” because apparently i do need to clear things up ooc after all, whoops.

okay so, reginald. i joke a lot about hating him, which was pretty sincere when i first played stickmin, but tbh ive started to warm up to him after seeing what the fandom does with him and getting a chance to write him for stickmolus. the thing is, uh... i like reginald as a villain. i like examining his motivations behind TB, and how that carries over into other endings like TCW and R. i also think its neat how henry can earn his respect in T4L and TK, and how that factors into how he sees henry in other paths. theres a lot of potential!

also, out of the 3 “bad endings” (TCW, VH, R), R is probably my favourite. theres a lot of character motivations that go into it, a lot of mistakes that get made on both sides, and the ending really hits hard in a way different from the other two. thats also why the first animation meme ive done w/ stickmolus was R! and, like, something i like to do with writing characters is to definitely take them apart and examine why things happen, why they make the choices they do, how they ended up like this. that’s what made writing reginald very fun, because i got to go into his viewpoints of the whole thing and his justifications for what he’s done.

i cant actually go into reg’s motivations too much here because there’s still more to get uncovered on the blog itself, but... yall, reg is an asshole in R. im sorry. he’s gonna be in more favourable lights in other routes, but the reg you were interacting with did kinda straight up commit an assassination and lied about it to you guys. he’s not being controlled (??????), he wasn’t panicking / made a mistake (when it comes to TB anyway. he definitely was in RPE.), him murdering henry was a choice he made and he did, in fact, say why-- just in, like, really vague terms, bc of the whole “not wanting to admit to murder to strangers” thing.

sorry for this block of words, but i just really didnt fancy getting yelled at in my inbox anymore.

#mun talk

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villains4hire · 3 years

Note

I've been eading through your blog and I love it I might make an ask blog for my ocs for hazbin hotel and helluva boss do you have any tips?

In response to your ask as I don't know you, but giving a generalized advice:

Firstly: do not tolerate people who rp racism, anti-lgbt+, noncon, pedo stuff, incest or w/e. These types of people are generally bad news and aren't worth dealing with or trying to change unless you know them personally before knowing they're doing that. Even then if they're not willing? The best thing to remember: fiction does effect reality in what normalizes it and can be used positively to make society more accepting of other races or LGBT+ groups on the other hand. People like to lie to themselves or others otherwise.

Persistence. Staying around is pretty much how you'll ever get any traction. Clear defined rules for your blog and reading other peoples' rules. You may not be successful at first, regardless of talent you may have despite being either good at writing or drawing. That's just how it is, traction isn't based on talent here but it does help.

Patience with other people as people are skiddish for some reason on here a lot of the time. Be direct with plots suggested to DMs or ask box. Then wait and give a time period of 3-5 days per dm if they're not too talkative. This will avoid drama or getting blocked.

Try to stand out somewhat, giving different or odd features can be defining and what makes your character memorable, or expanded canon/changed canon.

Try not to take canon so seriously like some people do on here likes it's their own dogmatic interpretation of the bible, you're just going to get upset/offended when people have different views than you.

Avoid vague posting about literally anyone on here if they're a mutual or someone you once had a mutual. Some times I make an exception when tolerating it from other people, but I very much can tell what's in reference to myself. It's cowardly in all honesty if someone just unfollows and starts blasting you on main. I'd rather tell someone to go fuck themselves than hide behind a vague post. If it's something I can prove anyway? I do confront other people and as do other people on here.

On that note. Don't get involved with drama too much if you can't handle it and it might be better than a lot of things. Limit yourself to how much ooc posts are made. Just block people and move on if they piss you off but it wasn't like racist, homophobic or transphobic or something like that. That kind of garbage doesn't belong in the community, bring out at your own risk however. I have a sideblog for when people directly involve me in that garbage, since I don't tolerate being disrespected and considered lesser as a person. Otherwise I suggest staying out of a lot of things as this platform is mostly used as a simple tool to relax. And understandable, be aware of any offensive or upsetting content you may ever take in and tag and accept that people may just leave because of it.

Understand that people will like you but not everyone, including sometimes the people you want to like you. You're not replaceable as a person but if people make you replaceable? Then they're replaceable to you as well, the best thing being is to move on when you start noticing stuff like that if you don't know them that well personally. There will always be someone willing to rp with you, the problem is finding them.

Keep replies to semi-para or para and one-liners I suggest with icons at the very least for one-liners. Some people are very visually inclined. For semi-para and paragraph? I suggest giving substances, something always for the rp partner to actively respond to even if it's something little and directly at them or with them, the only time a passive starter or reply works out if the muse blows up a house or something over the top which may not be fitting to the other character. Sometime's it's just best to engage with the other character as much as possible while maintaining the intended character. Icons in general are the standard and shouldn't matter, but it does matter to a lot of people, so I don't want you to feel pressured, that's just a thing the younger ppl established before they all left to twitter lol. It's fun for me at least.

Avoid pretentious people or rp elitists that somehow make this like it's their unpaid job. Or people who take this too personally for portrayals and their own writings. They're only going to annoy you. Either get distance or move on.

Don't answer anon hate. Block the anon and it will block the user it came from. That's the best advice I can give anyone compared to what I do to my anons that decide to go over the line with me. As I simply do that if it's not involving bigotry toward myself.

Backup your wanted content to google drive or another form of drive. This website is useful and all, but it's debatable in its life span due to the lack of monetization. And also, don't get caught up in certain hive mentalities on here or elsewhere honestly, it's easy to fall into, be your own person. Develop your own opinions and stay strong to yourself. Treat people for how you want to be treated in that same breath, though I would suggest not tolerating certain behaviors. Try not to get frustrated as getting sucked into this too much is a quick way to kill any fun out of it.

Shoot me a DM when you get an rp blog up for it. I'll follow this one as well.

#ooc #answered #daganronpa-fangirl1 #daganronpafangirl1

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hoshi-kuzu · 4 years

Note

If matchups are open again can I get a KamiAso one? 💕 I'm 5'0, Asian, and a gemini. At first I'm very quiet and have trouble talking to people but after awhile I'll become more dramatic and extroverted. I'm a huge nerd so I'm prone to dorking out quite a bit. But I'm always down for an adventure. I love drawing and listening to music. I also have a hobby of cooking! I can be impulsive sometimes but it's only bc I'm working towards my dreams!!

...so. It's been a little bit since your match-up submission. I really appreciate your patience with me😆

I hope you like it

I think you and Loki would have a wild time together. It would take a bit for y'all to truly hit it off, but boy— when it does. It goes off like A ROCKET!

Listen man, I don't believe in love at first sight, but when he first met you would be the closest to it.

When he first sees you he just zeroes in. Something completely inexplicable about you sucks in all his attention. Was it the way you held yourself? The strength in your eyes? The softness of your appearance? Everything? Or something else entirely. If someone asked him then he would say you just looked potentially amusing.

Though in between purposely careless laughter and smirks, he'll feel the deeper tugs. For the first time not everything is a light-hearted joke. For the first time in a while he might actually be attached.

After you become friends, this man will be dragging you to and fro ev-er-y-where. Constantly buzzing to do more. If you haven't laughed so hard you cried that day, he's failed. He HAS to show you a good time. He lives to see the sparkle in your eyes when you look up at him after a good laugh. He can't stand the thought of you looking at anyone else like that.

Albiet there's some (i.e. a metric ton of) hidden desperation in his rapid plans. I mean, if he can't continually show you how unique he is, how only he can make you laugh like that, how only he can take you on an adventure like that... How only he can make your heart flutter like that?

He's convinced if he can't make all your time together the absolute best. You'll have a moment to think, because all it takes is one, to realize that you don't need him, that in fact you're better off without him.

That you won't stick around, especially if you find laughter elsewhere, cause afterall is that not all he's good for?

Despite him seemingly magnetically attracted to you since day one. It takes him a while to admit to anyone, least of all himself. That he likes you, no ulterior motives. Just really, truly and honestly likes (loves) you.

He's always kept it superficial and on the surface "purely" about his entertainment.

At first that's what it was, but it fairly quickly morphes into being what you like and seeing your reactions.

There are days where you're going to have to find ways to get him to shut up and quit spazzing out for long enough to get some drawing done.

He'd love to take a nap underneath a tree with his head in your lap while you drew. The logistics is beyond him. He just tells you to figure it out while he plops down, despite your protests and drifts off.

It'd however be a good opportunity to take a break and listen to music. (Could that have been his secret plan all along, or did he really just selfishly worm his way in? The world may never know.)

___________________________________________

(I wrote some stuff that seems to fit more into a story aspect, rather than a plain old match-up. But I didn't want to throw it out, so... here you go?)

Despite his impish demeanor (or possibly because of it) he is deceivingly intelligent and perceptive. Being able to fully read a person in a blink of an eye. Though his intuition does not always gives concrete answers, but rather abstract ideas that are just barely beyond words to explain.

When he first sees you its decided within a moment that you are most definitely someone he wants to be near. For you have great potential to become the most entertaining toy. At least... that's what he tells himself.

He knows full well that this is not completely the case, not by a longshot, but he doesnt let the full thought form before shoving it to the back of his mind.

____________________________________

His bed was plush, the sheets soft, the pillow perfectly giving way beneath his head. And his eyes? Light as a feather. Not a single drop of drowsiness to be found.

His mind roiling as the ocean waves at night.

He shifts to the side for the 100th time seeing if this time will work. He begins to find comfort in this position when a thought flashes through his mind. Quickly shoving it to the back of his mind, instinctively jerking back with it, he flops onto his back. Heaving a long sigh which morphes into a groan. He stares questioningly at the white ceiling, as though it could give him the answers he's searching for. Dragging a hand over his face begrudgingly he sits up and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. Without bothering for shoes he leaves the dorm, letting his feet take him where they may.

The night air nips at bare skin. The cool ground shocks his feet. He ignores the sensations, continuing to meander through the school grounds. He's made a circuit around the boys dorm and unhurriedly strolls past thr entrance to the girls. His eyes lazily scan the surroundings, catching on a figure on a nearby bench. He pauses.

'Leave them.'

His legs thoughtlessly take him closer.

It's Minty, headphones in, a soft tune can be vaguely heard. Their head delicately resting to the side.

A devious smirk naturally forms on his face, his mind racing with all the pranks he could pull with this opportunity wrapped with a bow. A weird feeling solidifies in his chest, he falters. "Tch" He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. How boring. He quickly walks off back to his room.

When the early sun rays hit Minty's eyes, waking them. They sit up disoriented, looking around confused.

'oh right'

They had come out the night before to stargaze with some music a bit before bed. They must've been pretty tired.

'However' They think, holding up the soft blanket from their shoulders to eye-level.

'I didn't bring this with me.'

____________________________________

"Here." He hands Minty an ornately wrapped present.

They looked shocked, incredulously pointing towards themself. He enthusiastically nods, hardly bothering to cover the mischievous glint in his eyes.

Minty looks softly down at the package, delicately brushing a hand over the bow. They look back up eyes brimming with joy overflowing into a blinding smile so bright it puts Apollon's to shame. He has to look away for a moment's reprieve, but is soon jolted out of it at the sound of the ribbon falling.

"Whoops." They go to grab the ribbon, Loki snatches the present out of their hand and briskly walks away. "What are...?"

"You're being boring." He mutters.

(There we go! That's it. I struggled a bit to grasp his character so I hope it's not too OOC. Anyway I hope you enjoyed it. Have a nice day!)