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Sburb Aspects and The Fear Entities - TMA x Homestuck (spoilers ahead!!!)

I love the style of hyper-flexible mythology used by these Homestuck and The Magnus Archives: power systems and personality types are all well and good, but stories are elevated so much when those are combined with structures of the world's metaphysical nature. Few stories do it nearly as great as these two (and if you know any on their level please offer those recommendations!).

That said, I think there's a lot of overlap between their systems. Nothing is 1-to-1, of course, the numbers don't match up and they try to map out different types of concept (one explicitly about fear, the other dubiously about storytelling & other stuff maybe): however, some concepts are similarly touched on between the systems. I intend to explore these links in this post.

(again, spoilers ahead for both stories!)

and a long LOOONG post up ahead!

Now, I'll explain the obvious ones first for each, then touch on some of the less expected matches.

BREATH

The Lonely: First, I hope this one is clear. The Breath aspect is very explicitly about detachment. If its opposite Blood is about attachment and community, Breath touches on isolation and lacking a place. See how HS's Egbert values their friends throughout the comic, but once it ends they become a shut-in. The fog aesthetic also fits the wind theme.

The Vast: Speaking of a wind theme, those who follow The Vast have a more positive view on Breath's detachment, and value their freedom very highly. See how Mike Crew lashes out at Jon when he feels John disrespect his desires and then proceeds to make him feel Lots Of Quick Movement (how Breathy!). Now, onto the weird ones.

The Desolation: Why link The Fire Entity with The Wind Aspect? Well, if The Lonely applies for having no attachments, then The Desolation applies for being the pain of losing those attachments. See how its agents target the homes and families of its victims, leaving them with nothing, cold and shelterless after the fire wanes.

The Hunt: Breath is the aspect of Direction/Motivation and Movement, and The Hunt is all about perpetual chase and goal-seeking.

The Stranger: Breath is associated with levity & humour & magic/clownery, like The Stranger's circus aesthetic. Not to mention The Stranger's penchant for wayward vagabonds (haha), those with no place to call home and always on the move.

BLOOD

The Buried: Things that these two have in common: duty/crushing responsibility/obligation, pacts/promises/transactions, bondage/shackles, metal/soil/the element of earth, and basically everything else.

The Corruption: Penned in some ways as opposing The Lonely, it's also known as The Swarm and The Hive. It's about NEVER being alone, losing your individuality, etc. Also opposed to The Desolation.

The Flesh: Well, Blood is the aspect of the Purely Physical, the Material, the reality of our form, and The Flesh focuses on the idea that we are naught but meat with no spirit. Plus, y'know, blood & viscera imagery doesn't hurt. (okay it probably HURTS but y'know!)

The Hunt: This fear's literally pseudonymised as "Blood"! Touched on in a couple of episodes, The Hunt's domain expands into the fear of the pack turning if you take a wrong step, so you better damn well conform or else!

The Slaughter: Us Vs Them. Conflict is nothing without opposition, and your side matters more than anything in war. You have a duty, and if you neglect your obligations, blood will be spilled.

The Web: Everyone's connected, everyone has a role to play, no man is an island and all actions affect everyone. The Web's domain over addiction could be linked to Blood's claim on dependency... Also, rope bondage ;)

SPACE

The Vast: Dimension & distance & depth, size & scale, the universe as an ocean, the incomprehensible vastness of reality. These two are so deeply similar, conceptually.

The Lonely: In Calliope and Jade's discussion on the nature of reality, it is revealed that the path of the Spacebound is especially prone to loneliness. Recall the isolation of every Space player before entering the game, and "MAG 57: Personal Space".

The Corruption: Space is biology and growth, and while I can't remember any specific Corruption statements on motherhood I can easily imagine a woman birthing a plague of worms and beetles, and doting on her "children". It feels like a statement that *should* have happened somehow, it's just so obvious a version of Corruption's themes, y'know?

The Eye: "Those bound to the aspect of Space are, as the name suggests, concerned with the big picture. They are patient, masters of the art of ‘wait-and-see’, and are inclined to take things as they come." Space is the most passive aspect, while The Eye is arguably the most passive Entity (beside The End).

The Extinction: The Spacebound hold an "understanding that sometimes you have to let something burn to the ground in order to build it back better and stronger than before. To this effect, they tend to be innovators, concerned with creation and redemption. Catch them recycling the old to make the new, the fresh, and the beautiful."

TIME

The End: Time's the aspect of endings, conclusion and death. Next.

The Slaughter: Music, rhythm, regularity. Pressure, aggression, action. Different vibes, but surprisingly high overlap.

The Hunt: Was debating whether this was appropriate, since Time values destination over journey while Hunt values the chase over the catch. However, even with this difference, they both hold dominion over unstoppable forces and strict determination.

The Web: How can your free will matter in a clockwork universe? We see Dave struggle with his agency, knowing that only his actions in the Alpha timeline matters. Time loops are very Webbish.

The Extinction: Time is also about what comes next, after the end. Progress, technology, change and eternity are the nature of Time & The Extinction. Out with the old, in with the new.

LIGHT

The Eye: Knowledge, information, sight & light, being noticed whether you like it or not, sorting things into neat discrete categories, focus & clarity & attention. They're the same damn thing! This is the Light of Rose, Doc Scratch and Aranea

The Web: Light players struggle with agency, whether there's any greater meaning, any purpose, any master plan behind life. Well, if The Mother of Puppets has her way, EVERYONE can have a purpose and contribute to her master plan! (Might not be a nice plan, but hey.) This is the Light of the Serket sisters, Vriska & Aranea.

The Hunt: Part of Lights sway over knowledge is its dominion on exploration, discovery, seeking. These aren't *traditional* Hunt symbols but they're certainly present in the text, see most of the Hunters in South America.

VOID

The Dark: Okay, I shouldn't need to explain the link between these two. Obscurity, concealment, secrecy, mystery, the cold, water symbolism, emptiness (especially in space), deaf/blind/losing senses, and literal darkness/shadow? They're basically the same!

The End: The domain of non-existence.

The Flesh: Void, like Blood, deals with the physical world and denies greater divine purpose. Lends itself well to hedonism and empiricism. See Equius and his huge muscles.

The Spiral/Stranger: Falsification of senses and reality, deceit and blurriness, obsession and obstruction. Distortion & Unknowing.

The Vast: Deals with cosmic insignificance, as does Void. See also the ocean imagery.

The Extinction: Again, the idea that we don't matter, and a return to a blank canvas for something new.

HEART

The Lonely: Being alone with yourself, no outside interaction to speak of, longing for love? SO Heart-coded it's unreal.

The End: Heart deeply values The Self Being A Thing That Exists, thus fear of The End must affect it worse than maybe any other aspect.

The Flesh: I'm thinking of body dysmorphia here, the idea that your physical identity doesn't match your Truest Self. See Jared Hopworth's gym, and the perfection its members strive for.

The Hunt: Known as one of the most primal Fears, the Hunt taps into our base, bestial nature more than any other. Heart presides over base instinct, and is associated with animal imagery

The Stranger: "Who will you be, with a name or three, and a stranger's face worn wrong?" - Identity issues are a whole thing. Deals with things not being what they "should", messing with presentation and souls.

MIND

The Spiral: Mind = Sense, equally in terms of logic and perception. The Spiral distorts logic and perception equally. Mind is also about dishonesty to the self, and you can hopefully see the link to Es Mentiras a.k.a. "It Is Lies" there. See The Distortion's identity crisis.

The Web: Mind is also about Choice, of karma, the interconnectivity of everything and thorough planning. The Web is the entity of weaving plans, interconnectivity and the questioning of your own agency and choices.

The Buried: Perhaps a bit tenuous, but Mind touches on karma and I see that as being "trapped by your choices".

LIFE

The Corruption: Uncontrolled growth and biological imagery. I see Life less as bugs, and more as plant overgrowth, encroaching mold.

The Flesh/Hunt: Life is about consumption, food and domination, the assimilation of the weak to the strong, growth at no expense. Following your desires with no obstacles, fashioning yourself how you see fit. If Aspects had true name like TMA entities, Life could be the "It Will Eat & Grow".

The Extinction: Even without us, life will find a way. Nature shall reclaim all. Isn't it beautiful? Poetic?

DOOM

The Desolation: Pain, searing flame, loss, and sacrifice. Very very Doom.

The Corruption: Rot, disease and decay. Very very Doom.

The Buried: Restriction, limitations, etc. Very very Doom.

The Flesh: Oh my GOODNESS, those factory-farming episodes are DISTURBING. The utter helplessness, the looming tyranny of machines, the exploitation of your body before and after death... SO very VERY Doom. Recall the tragedy of The Ψiioniic Helmsman.

The Web: Fate, predetermination, bondage and learned helplessness. You get the drill by now.

The Extinction: Fossil fuels, factory farming, deforestation, political terrorism... Continuing on our path, Doom and Extinction as synonyms would be inevitable unless things change.

HOPE

The Spiral: "I am the throat of delusion incarnate" - every Hope player ever. Belief, whether in truth or falsehood, is the domain of Hope. I would also like to draw attention to the spoiling of belief, hope, faith and delusion in the "Desecrated Host" two-parter.

The Corruption: Hope is about a different kind of growth than Life but growth nonetheless, and Hope also touches on love as a form of desire. Corruption statements have a heavy emphasis on love, see "MAG 157: Love Bombing" (also features a literal cult belief system!!!)

The Extinction: The Catastrophic Change need not be so catastrophic, if we rebuild after. If Rage shatters glass, Hope will make a mosaic of it. If life as we know it ends, who's to say what comes next can't be better?

RAGE

The Stranger: Carnival, theatre and circus, masks and mannequins. The doubt of everything you encounter is what Rage is all about!!! It's perfect, honestly.

The Slaughter: Aggression, rabidity, anger, unpredictable violence, (in) justice, overhaul of the natural order. Dionysian madness, Pt. 1.

The Desolation: Hope is potential, Rage opposes Hope, and Desolation is the destruction of potential. Rage is happy to see (some parts of) the world burn. The aspect also touches on physical pain, and intensity of emotion.

The Flesh: Carnival, literally "farewell to meat", is the major symbol of Rage as mentioned already. Another case of Flesh's rejection of divine faith, manifesting Rage as Doubt (skepticism and empiricism).

The Hunt: Single-minded dogged determination, the denial of other possibilities in pursuit of The Undeniable Root, the unbreakable truth. PURE adrenaline. Fangs and horns and claws are also very Rage-y vibes.

The Spiral: Doubt of the senses, doubt of the self, doubt at its core. Dionysian madness, Pt. 2.

The Extinction: The Rage-bound are prone to believe that our world is unjust, unstable and unsustainable. All that's needed for everything to crumble is a little shake-up.

* Final Wrap-Up:

The Aspects connected to the most fears are Void and Rage, tied at 7. Makes sense, since the unknown is so central to horror and Rage is literally the aspect of fear! Of course half the fears would connect to either of those.

Doom & Blood tie second at 6 each (also sensibly scary). Mind, Light & Hope tie last at 3 each. The rest all have 4-5.

The Fears which line up with the most Aspects are Extinction at 7 then Hunt and Flesh each with 6 - half of the whole Aspect wheel!!! Funny how it's arguably the most primal Fear and the two most recent Entities which are most prominent.

The Dark alone aligns with just 1 Aspect and The Eye, funnily enough, has a mere 2. I can't really see them as anything else when they are SO similar in concept to Void and Light (though I did come around to Spaceye in the end).

Phe-YEW. Now THAT was a long post, anda took a while to write (presumably to read too!)

So now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna use my discoveries to help myself write a D&D campaign!

(Feel free to rb/comment w/ any of your own connections, if there's any in the table I didn't explain, and any links you think I missed or that don't fit here (I was mostly trying to think of what Fear the aspect would INSTILL, not what the Aspect-bound would be scared of since that would mostly be the opposite aspect's territory, but some of these might start to slide into aversion a bit. Also! I was thinking of connecting Buried to TIme or Space, but eventually decided Hunt and Eye fit them better. Maybe you can connect it better than I could?)) (^_^)c

Leon's art dump

Probably should do separate versions of each, dw i will

it's april! i like her design sm

Have some angst *poof*

Edit: to be continued....

OH HELL YEAH!!!!! THAT LOOKS FUCKIN PHENOMENAL!! 👌 🔥 😍 💯

Back on my painting stuff after a while and finished Asurmen

I added the ghost of his brother coming from his sword like i did on my old one and i wasnt keen on the magazines so i gave him his old belt feed back.

be gay, swim away

comic I made for class ages ago!!!! we had to do an alternate ending for a fairytale and I decided to be cringefail

Aaaaaaa~! This is so cool!!

(Not a gif this time cause it has audio 🔊)

My sister loves to spam the "talk" button when playing with the goat 10/10 experience, accurate goat

every sound i used is from the game, song is Nudism(night version) by River Boy

patreon

Reference (Juncrow by falseknees), comic ver. of the video and gifs⬇️

Did a lil more experimenting with the paint markers and I gotta say I like these lil fuckers a lot

(On Amazon they are the shuttle art paint pens , I ain’t finna like these mfers smooth like butter but posca paint pens will be the love of my life forever(

Nooo now i cant unseee this

I cant resist uploading mine before bed

Happy 10th birthday, Gravity Falls!

"Oh Iris, Goddess of the Rainbow, show me Will Solace."

Show him, she does.

It must be steamy in Texas. Nico has been informed that the heat that way south is often desert dry, but there is nary a bath or tap in sight -- only Will, shirtless, right leg bent, lounging on clean white sheets, and humming to himself. He is covered in a thin sheen of sweat, as if he's been glazed in oil. Nico's breathing gets a little heavy.

"Wha...oh! Nico!" Will clamors upright, tucking his knees up, leaning forward on his hands. Nico can tell from his voice he is smiling. He can tell from his own eyeballs that the way he is sitting presses his chest together, just so, and then out, and boy is that a scene he has not observed in years present. "Hey!"

"Hey," Nico says, completely incapable of feeling his tongue. He drags his eyes upward, meeting Will's sparkling eyes and raised eyebrow. He clears his throat. "Uh, hi."

Will watches him. He tilts his head, ever so, observing through the staticky film of the mist, scanning his eyes across Nico's face, the set of his jaw, the raise of his shoulders. The corners of his pink mouth twitch.

"Hi," he indulges. Both eyebrows rise, now. "Everything okay?"

Nico uncrosses his arms. He recrosses them. Will giggles. He uncrosses them again, face flaming.

"Everything is -- good here in the hood," he says, then vows to kill himself. Percy first, as this whole thing -- it always is -- is his fault, but then he is stabbing himself straight through the eye. Will's giggles turn to outright laughter. "I am -- holding down here at The Fort. Word." He makes a hang-tight motion with his hand. It spasms. He tries to yank it back down to shove deeply into his pockets, but in his urgency he just kind of shakes it a little. Can you die from too much blood to the brain? Nico is pretty sure you can die from too much blood to the brain.

"What is wrong with you, weirdo." The fondness drips from his voice -- which has become a little more twangy in the weeks he's been gone, Nico is noticing -- and Nico wants to lap it up like chocolate syrup. He wants to -- swallow it, him; he wants to dive through the screen and devour him.

That was not the purpose of this call.

The purpose is long gone, however.

"Nothing is -- wrong," he defends, defensively. It would be a better defense if Will were not fucking shirtless and if he could fucking think. As it is all his brain is doing is recalling the exact flavor of Will's clavicle when it is sweaty in that way and his mouth floods with saliva. He has to check that he is not drooling. "Everything is -- groovy. Can I not call to say hello."

Will grins indulgently. "You can." He moves, slowly, and were Nico not laser-focused on the very twitches of his muscles he may not have noticed. Alas. "But you said so, already. What's next?"

He has slowly moved back into a reclining position, hands tucked behind his head. This way Nico can see the flex of his biceps, the strain of his pectoral; the blonde, curly hair under his arms and trailing under his pierced belly-button are on full glimmering display, and Nico's teeth ache. He's going to die. He's going to die.

"Next. I." Will draws a leg up, bending it thoughtlessly to the side. Nico trails off.

"Next you...?"

It's on purpose, is what it fucking is.

Look, Nico is -- a man. Okay. Despite the running jokes of his ancestry and his lower-than-normal temperature, he is indeed warm-blooded. And warm blooded men do this thing when there is six-foot-two of lean and hot stretched out and teasing in front of them and that is called suffering. Will is no fool. Nico is no subtle person. There is a reason all his fucking volleyball shorts are three sizes too small and that he goes for a run every day. He doesn't actually like it as much as he claims he does. His throat fucking closes every time he lies about it. But he does it every fucking morning because he takes his sweet fucking time stretching beforehand and his 'laps' are in direct fucking view of the one Hades cabin window and he is a sgualdrina, okay, he is his father's fucking son, and he knows damn well what he is doing and knows damn well why half the camp gets up early to watch. He is an attention-hungry little fuck and he knows Nico by the ridges of his fingertips and nothing he does is fucking accidental.

Nico's brain cells are gone. Kaput. One hundred fucking percent of his blood is concentrated around his flaming face and his genuinely painfully hard cock. Thought is difficult. When he is face to face with his boyfriend again he is going to strangle him, and it is going to do nothing, because the horny fucker will like it and then Nico is going to be blue-balled to death all over again. He can't fucking win.

"Talk to me, Nico. So I know you're alive."

"I hope you fucking explode," Nico grits out. He keels over, a little, desperate to alleviate. "I hope you --"

"Hands up."

Nico freezes.

It is rare that Will gets that sort of tone.

Rarer still that he gets that look in his eyes, that dark-brazen belligerence. He meets Nico's gaze head on and he is smirking, openly, hand tracing down his chest, circling the dark splotch of his own nipple. Will is a lot whinier, usually; he's needy, and he likes that, he likes it when Nico pushes him around, when he presses his buttons and crowds him against the headboard, the supply closet corner, the bathroom stall of the bodega. He likes that Nico can put his hands on his hips and he will crumble, he will sink into Nico's touch; he likes the sharpness of Nico's grin and the sharper edge to his teeth. He likes that Nico wants him. That Nico gets him.

But Nico can't get him, here. Not eighteen hundred miles away. And there is a spark in his eye, at the reigns he has here, a gleam he gets like when his siblings are on the third and final warning he'll give them, like when a new horse comes trotting into the stables, self-righteous and cocky. A lax to his muscles and a tension in his big, steady hands.

"You can touch yourself," he says, quiet, "when I say so."

Nico scowls. "And how are you going to stop me?"

Will shrugs. He ducks out of view for a moment, and Nico's heart stops -- he cranes his head around, for a second, like that will magically work, like he's be able to see outside the screen. Will's voice is muffled, interrupted by the wheels of a pulled drawer and the rustling of it's contents.

"Well --" He huffs, audibly, off screen, humming when he finds what he's looking for and crawling back on his bed --

"I'm going to finger myself, regardless, but if you're good I'll let you watch."

The grin he shoots in Nico's direction is goading and devilish. He is under no delusions that Nico is going to up and walk away -- his cock is actually straining in his pants, and his balls are starting to ache -- and no matter what, he gets off. He wins. And gods, Nico does not mind in the slightest.

"I hate you," Nico mutters, voice muffled in the palms of his hands. Will laughs, smug and airy, and it shoots right up his spine, right down his dick. His hands strain to touch -- not only his cock, but across the IM, across the distance; he wants to run his hands up and down that warm chest, he wants to slide those ridiculously tiny boyshorts down with his teeth. He wants to bite him so hard they can hear his shout across oceans, he wants to stuff him full of cock so relentlessly that his eyes roll back in his head and he forgets his own fucking name.

"Mm, too bad for you," Will singsongs. "All you get to do is sit there on your big, lonely bed, my pillow in you face, as I edge myself so hard I lose my voice. Unfortunate!"

Nico stifles a shout, incapable of stopping his hands from diving down his pants. The half-second of relief is divine -- as his heated skin of his cock cools in the cabin air his head calms, for just a moment, and he can focus on the weight of his dick in his hand, the sensitive glans by the head. Fuck. He gathers precum in his palm and rubs it up the shaft, closing his eyes for a second and imagining it's Will's saliva.

"Strike one."

Nico's eyes fly open. "Hey, wait --"

Will shifts, carefully dragging a pillow under his hips, drawing his knees as far up as they will go and arching the length of his broad, freckled back; the fabric of his boyshorts stretches over his ass, so thin Nico can see the shape of each cheek, dead center of the screen in front of him. Will looks over his shoulder, eyebrows raised, mouth pulled into a thin, mocking line.

"Three and you're out, di Angelo. I mean it. I don't need you watching to finish the job." He winks. "Certainly ain't bad, though. Somethin' special about havin' eyes on me."

Heat flows through Nico like hot oil.

"I better be the only fuckin' eyes."

"Yeah? Or what?"

"I'll make you howl, pretty boy. I'll jump all two thousand miles and rail you, don't think I fuckin' wouldn't. In front of all your little admirers, too."

That makes Will moan, thighs quivering like Nico is actually there between them. It takes him time to recover, panting, and it would be gratifying if it did not make every one of Nico's nerves sing, if it did not make him have to sit on his own hands to avoid wrapping them fist after fist around the length of his cock.

"We're -- exploring that," Will says, breathless. "Later, when you can -- make good on your promises."

"I can make good on them now," Nico says darkly. He watches as Will inches his shorts down the tanned globes of his ass, resting the -- fuck, resting the elastic right under the bottom of his ass, pushing the fat and muscle up from the crest of his thighs. It looks like glazed dough, and the want of it makes Nico buckle, makes his chest swim with it. His fingers twitch like clawed nails.

"You're shadow-banned."

"I think your ass would be a fine last meal."

Will laughs, shoulders flushing. "Shut the fuck up."

Nico smiles softly. "Never."

Will rolls his eyes, but Nico can tell by his breathing that he's pleased; he recognizes the hitch in his inhale, the little sound in the back of his throat. He needs to hear it and Nico loves to say it: he wants him. Not for what he can do, not because he is tall, or because he looks like his father. Because every part of him from the bend of his biteable shoulders to the curve of his -- and Nico is an entirely objective observer in this department -- fat ass is the most addictive, mind-ruining, lust-brewing thing imaginable. He is beautiful, and he is breathtaking, and he is capable, and he is clever, and he is unbelievably, unbeatably smart: all things Nico will tell him. All things Nico will drill into him, eventually. But he can show Will that he is sexy without even trying. And it is his most favorite guilty pleasure to indulge in.

Without meaning to -- and without even thinking -- his hand drifts to his cock, kicking off his jeans and socks and settling back onto the headboard, watching. Will pants, shifting side to side, and his ass shakes tantalizingly with every little movement, with every little mewl from the back of his throat. His lubed-slick fingers are quick and skilled and bely some recent, skillful practice -- Nico mourns every viewing he's missed -- and Nico is completely mesmerized by the crook of his long fingers, the stretch and give of his pretty pink pucker. Nico has his fingers squeezing the base of his cock and his palm against the seam of his balls before he is even aware that his hands have moved. It's like pure, magnetic instinct: Will is fingering himself, and Nico is jacking off to it. They have been there before, too many times to count.

"Hey, are you --" Will huffs, bleary eyes narrowing. "Strike two, you shameless motherfucker."

Nico inhales sharply, glancing down at his own traitor hands with as much frustration as he throws across the screen.

"I'm -- I'm the shameless one, how am I supposed to --"

He throws his hands up, aghast, and Will does nothing but huff at him, pausing his scissoring fingers -- no -- and sticking out his tongue. Nico, mournfully, wants to suck on it.

"You remember that time? Early December?"

Nico tilts his head, paying slightly less attention than he means to. (He has one-mind focus. Okay. It's battle reflexes. In the demigod handbook and everything.) "No?? I can't remember breakfast --"

"When you handcuffed me. And ate me out 'til I lost my voice and then rode me so hard I actually lost consciousness!"

Nico pauses, shoulders stilling. A slow, heady grin speads across his face.

"Oh," he says, settling back. He holds his hands up in faux surrender, drinking in Will's lidded eyes. "Yeah, I remember."

"You fucker. I told you I'd get you back for that."

"Did you? 'Cause me personally I remember a lot of Nico, Nico, please and don't stop, don't stop, I'm gonna cum --"

"See, this is why you don't get to touch yourself. 'Cause you're an asshole."

Nico blows him a kiss. He rolls his eyes, hole visibly clenching around his fingers.

"An asshole whom you seem to enjoy."

"Nobody asked you."

"I'm always asking me." For all his attitude, Will is working mighty hard to keep in frame. It does not escape Nico's notice. "And you like it when I tease you."

"Shut up," Will grumbles again. "I'm trying to focus."

"Alright, alright." Nico waves a hand. "By all means."

But he can't quite pull off the playful disinterest he goes for. Will knows it, because he exhales, stretching, and shakes his hips ever so slightly, smirk coming back in full force. He's easy to rile up -- Nico hopes and suspects he always will be -- but one thing about Will is that he will always finish what he started, and finish hard. In minutes, he has a third finger slipped through his ring, then a fourth, and just when Nico has his head against the wood of the headboard, breathing heavy, there is a sound from the other end, a tiny, frustrated grunt, and then a slick pop noise, like a dropped-open mouth. Nico whips his head over so fast he damn near twists his neck.

Will has all five of his fingers in, just above the knuckles.

"Please tell me you are not," Nico begs, jerking forward with the effort of keeping still. A low, groaning kind of shout fights its way out of him, a sound he's never made before, and he fears for a moment he's actually lost control of his body, astral-projecting his soul to wherever Will is so there's half a chance more he can touch. "Will, I swear to the gods, if you fist yourself when I'm not there and I can't touch my dick will actually explode off my body. Jesus fucking Christ."

He's joking, a little bit. But not really. His cock twitches hard and it genuinely hurts, like a fresh, bone-deep bruise -- which, fascinatingly, seems only to make the hard-on that much harder. Will sees, and huffs a laugh.

"'M not," he promises, words a little slurred. There's a little cloudiness in his blue eyes, and on reflex Nico softens, hands twitching out to him. "I didn' -- 'm not prepped enough, baby. It'd hurt."

Nico files that edge to his voice away for later. For now he nods, exhaling long and slow, and lets his face crumple into something shameless, something pleading.

"C'mon, Will. Please. Let me -- let me touch myself, okay, I want to feel it when you finally find your --"

Will moans so loud, suddenly, that Nico pauses and frantically glances at the window to make sure it's shut tight. And then every nerve in his system lights on fire. There's something dissonant about watching Will cum but not being there. He's usually on Nico's cock, see. Or tongue, or hands, or anything, really; if Nico has half a chance to get him panting and red-chested and shouting his name in place of his own, Nico will fucking take it, obviously, because when Will comes he is beautifully, blissfully loud, and every insistence that he can't sing or hold a tune is shot into the stratosphere because he sounds like roaring flame, like whipping race cars; when he cums he rakes his nails down Nico's back and the burn is so heady Nico's eyes roll back into his head. When Will cums his chest burns bright red and his face glows golden, when Will cums he is heat to the point of intolerance and sunburn. And Nico dreams of it. He dreams of the moment he brushes against that tiny little nub -- because that is all it ever takes, sensitive as he is -- and hears him beg and plead and howl, hears his voice crack on Nico's name like the gods with jealously for their own praise. It is like wind roaring, when he comes, like swords clashing.

Across the screen, Nico only gets to see it.

It is breathtaking.

Nico watches, mouth open, hands loose and rested palms up on his knees; when Will cums, apparently, his toes curl, and his back dips low; when Will cums, apparently, his pretty cock twitches just so as it spurts up his flushed chest; when Will cums, apparently, the freckles along his shoulder blades glow in perfect constellations; when Will cums, apparently, his lips mouth Nico's name, once, as he pants, in the small, nano second before the shouting begins and the euphoric twitches flick up and down his arms. Nico thought he had him memorized. He is thrilled, from the stiffness of his nipples to the end of his weeping cock, to know there is more to learn.

"Please," he begs, as Will comes down from the aftershocks, "please, sweetheart, let me --"

"Go," Will nods, and his voice is hoarse, wrecked, and Nico wraps his hands around his shaft like a drowning man grips a rope.

He is used to his own callused hands, although his rough spots are in different places than Will's. As he drives his palm up and down his length, gathering leaking spend from the tip, he hears Will's raspy, road-gravel voice:

"Waited so long, didn't you, darlin'. Listenin' so good to me. If I was there I'd be kneelin' at your feet, tongue out; you could paint my pretty face how I know you like --"

Nico groans, curling in on himself, and spurts into his hand, eyes screwed shut, imagining ropes of cum decorating Will's face, his long, straight nose, his mussed hair. He hears Will giggle tiredly and it adds to the image, making him think of the way his nose always scrunches, freckles disappearing in the folds of his skin.

"Stop being cute when I'm thinking unholy things about you."

"I'm not trying to be cute, I am cute, and you're an innocence-ruining deviant."

Nico pops his eyes open, snorting. "Sure, real innocent, Mr. Paint My Pretty Face."

"Exactly, exactly. Glad you agree."

Will grins at him, wide and soft. Nico memorizes the shape of his teeth, the outline of his frame; his wide shoulders, the jut of his hip. The shapely curve of his legs.

"I miss you."

Nico exhales. "I miss you too, my lifeline."

"Hm. Lifeline. That's new."

Nico watches the shy, pleased curl of him and aches with the need to touch, to press soft kisses to his warm, flustered skin. To wipe the sweat from his belly and shoulders and stroke his hair until he can't keep his eyes open, until he snores into the crook of Nico's neck.

"Not new. Not for me."

Will sighs, eyelashes fluttering. "Y'r my lifeline too, you know." He presses a heavy, tired hand to his lips, extended it out in Nico's direction. "S'pecially when I'm lonely."

Nico swallows. "Good." He leans back into the pillows, careless of the spend on his stomach, on his hands. He'll deal with it later. "You sleepy?"

"Little. Was gonna take a nap 'fore you came bargin' in and seduced me."

"Oh, is that how it happened."

"Mhm."

The tiny little smirk on Will's face makes Nico's chest burn something heavy. He feels the phantom press of it along the web of his thumb.

"Go ahead, Will. I'll wait 'til you're out."

"'Kay." He doesn't need the permission, half-out anyways; but he curls in on himself, hands tucked up to his chest, and hands twitch where Nico usually holds them. "Love you."

"And I, immeasurably, you."

He watches Will sleep and drinks in the glow of his smile.

I love BeepBox. Here's an attempt at a kinda-sorta cover of the main theme from that one stop-motion cartoon that has probably changed my life when I was five.

O MY GOSH O MY GOSH O MY GOSH !! 😲 ✨ ✨ ✨

Thank you, THANK YOU VERY VERY MUCH!! I love it !! ^^ 💖 ✨

Your artwork so cool and cute and, and.. .AAAH, THANK YOU SO MUCH!^^ ✨✨✨

H-hello 👉👈

I don't want to seem very arrogant.. But.. Can you draw me and my f/o, please? (My f/o is Iron Lumberjack btw..)

If you reject my request..I'll understand..😞

I've been struggling to draw anything lately, living off of my queue, but. I was possessed. Janky though it may be, I cannot deny a fellow enjoyer of metal himbos something so cute.

Born on the same soil, broken by the same witch, seeking the same thing.

he’s thinkin

"Good Morning, Rose"

My short story for the wlw anthology GLIMM*R!

Looks amazing!!

tested out my new ipad by doing a full body of my guy Goose. used it as practice for scales and background.

Another amazing chapter!!!!!

The Never-Ending Roadtrip (there’s nothing wrong with Ohio)

Summary: Reader joins Douxie in the quest for Nari’s safety. He’ll need company won’t he? - (Part 5) ohio hijinks. national forests, a b ‘n b.     start here -> (part 1)

Warnings: swearing, meat eating, idk gambling kinda?

Word Count: 6620

A/N: AAAAAHHH i gotta stop writing shit at 3am. it’s showing. also i cant believe i reworked their entire planned trip route for this. ajhqhdsjhfljh i have no excuses for any of this

Douxie was uncharacteristically quiet during the trip through the first bit of Indiana. Y/n hung over the railing feeling awkward. The treetops below flew past her in a blur. Y/n kinda felt bad, like maybe she had broken him. Did she nudge a little too hard? She had thought, if anything, her flirting would get him flirting too. Hell, Doux flirted with everyone. It was just part of his charismatic persona he’d built over the years. And he had been so strange this week, but especially strange during the time they’d spent on the road. Every time Y/n had thought she’d figured something out with him, he’d surprise her.

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THIS IS SO GOOD!!!

Whumptober Day 31: this could be angstier and maybe i’ll re-write it next year idk | Reader

Plot:  You have to hurt your boi or hurt your boi, and it’s halloween

Word Count: 6,437

Warnings:  Torture, reader is forced to kiss someone

A/N:  Ok, so i wrote most of this late at night, and most of it is rushed because i wanted to get it out on halloween, but whatever.  take this thing i made, i hope you enjoy

Tag List:  @furblrwurblr​ @einahpetsyarcip​ @sorrels-scribbling​ @anxious-stitcher​ @alive-and-afraid​ @animedweeb333​ @douxiesdamsel​ @saroski05

T’was a long time ago, longer now than it seems, because quarantine likes to fuck up everyone’s time management.  It wasn’t actually that long ago if I’m being honest.

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Absolutely adorable!

Flustered (JATP Reggie x reader)

✌🏻Masterlist Taglist, Requests, and Works in progress!

Request: (wattpad @after_dark6) the reader and reggie are just hanging out and  then the reader wants to cuddle with reggie so they cuddle and reggie being sleepy and coocky tells the reader “u look really hot u know? ’ and kisses the reader’s neck, and the reader gets shy and flustered , blushes . reggie sees the reader blushing and tease her , the reader gets brave and kisses reggie all of a sudden then reggie is the one to get flustered.

Prompt/summary: Reggie tries to get the reader flustered

Word count: 444

Authors note: This is probably super short whoops. I’m getting a little burnt out so I might take a break fro requests to do originals (This could be in 1995 or 2020 you decide I guess lol)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Band practice had lasted longer than normal that day. Reggie and I had already planned on hanging out after band practice and I really did not want to change that, no matter how tired I was.

“Can you stay the night?” I said.

He clicked the lock on his bass case and looked over at me, “Are your parents home?”

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stop these two fluffy idiots melt my heart😞💗

“in another “why not this

life-“ one?”

“now?” “yeah.”

THIS IS SO GOOD YOU HAVE TO WATCH IT!

FinALLY DONE yayyy

sorry if we're late to the trend

As a Texan I would like to say that you absolutely nailed it

miku worldwide usa edition (click to fully appreciate)

(go follow the cool artists under the cut)

current map: here

washington: @mochasucculent

oregon: @the-jelliphish

california: @camiliar

arizona: @apelgif

nevada: kikiCPU

utah: @ace-o-hearts

montana: @just-luxx

idaho: @roxyrot

wyoming: @saintlethanavir

colorado: @yaelartworks

new mexico: @eldritch-ace

north dakota: @schwoopsiedoodles

south dakota: beebeerock

nebraska: @glassofoj-twitter

kansas: @petziez

oklahoma: @razzafrazzle

texas: @princepsed

minnesota: @pastabaguette

iowa: @rumpledcrow

missouri: @inkyharpy

arkansas: @basement-buddy

louisiana: @circusclownproductions

wisconsin: @plush0fairy

illinois: @shrimpimage

kentucky: @double-m-b

tennessee: @thebiscuiteternal

mississippi: @juneyybee

alabama: @burnt-scone

michigan: @chorne-the-firstborn

idiana: @meowjuniper

ohio: @teethflavoured

west virginia: @littleivyart

virginia: @splemonocracy

georgia: @alyossan

florida: kierscribbles

south carolina: @ash-animates

north carolina: @pinkcultgirl

maryland: @f4ceache

pennsylvania: @sukifoof-art

new york: @doodoobirds

new jersey: @porcelain-rob0t

delaware: easybriizydraws

rhode island: @crazywolf828

conneticut: @koreyeet

vermont: @maggotwithanf

massechusettes: @wishpetal

new hampshire: @ohnoshiv

maine: @limesade

alaska: @owldart

hawaii: @theexistingbox

Spoiler

I wonder how they reacted :']

@vvisteriae

sketched this out, I hope its alright. someone edit this thang, I cant use tech to save my life. this is where my skills lead up to.