#For over 300 loops!!!!!

[tiralja]

Just finished the rose arc and

Tang Erda

That is all

[chericheribaby]

wolfstar, one of them teaching the other how to drive

“You have to press the—no, that’s the brake pedal and—yes, that’s the one—wait, slow down, be careful with the—and there goes the recycle bin.”

“This is nothing like riding a bike,” Sirius bangs head over and over, making the klaxon sound every time. “You lied to me, Remus.”

“I didn’t lie to you,” Remus puts his hand between Sirius’ forehead and the steering wheel.. “I just said it would take more time.”

“Why are we doing this again?” Sirius grumbles, looking at Remus as if it was his idea to teach him how to drive a car in the first place.

“Because you said the moms at the daycare judge you when you pick up Teddy on the motorcycle.” Remus reminds him. “Honestly I don’t understand why you care what they think.”

“I don’t,” Sirius lies, even if he thinks it’s true. “Maybe I should just tell those old hags to stuff it and be done with it.”

“You could,” Remus offers but he knows his husband well enough to know he won’t do that. If anything, he works better when doing things out of spite.

It takes him some time at first to get the hang of it, but five minutes in he keeps the car turned on the entire time; fifteen minutes in he figures out the gear stick. And at the thirty minute mark Sirius drives around the neighborhood without an incident before parking outside their house.

The proud look on his face is one of pure delight, Remus can’t stop himself from kissing him. 

“Think you are ready to pick Teddy up now? He’s almost out.” 

Sirius nods. “Yes, but let’s take the bike, I think I prefer it. Besides, I know Teddy likes it.”

“I like it too, you look good on it.”

Sirius looks ridiculously pleased. “You think so?”

Remus just hums. “Come on, let’s go. I can’t wait to make faces at the moms if they so much look at us funny. I bet I can convince Teddy to make faces too.”

Sirius cackles all the way to the bike parked in their entrance.

[doomdoomofdoom]

So like. Anyone in academia gonna write that paper or do I have to

happy werewolf transgenderism wednesday

[lemonynuggets]

bitches (me) will be like ‘I’m fine’ and then listen to flight of the crows twelve times in one day

dude that song slaps though

[divinedomainn]

Stream and Scream | reader x multiple men

play previous song? || ◁ PART 1 ▷ || play next song?

summary : After another horny stream, you drop the bomb: fuck-a-fan fridays—seven weeks, seven fans, seven filthy videos. masks on, faces hidden, just you and one lucky subscriber tangled up on camera each week. All they have to do? strip down, get hard, and show you why it should be them. Auditions start now.

contains : camgirl!reader x a whole ass roster, rotating cast, university AU, smut, porn with kinda a crack plot, casual sex, anonymous sex, exhibitionism, recording, oral sex, piv sex, rough kinky sex, everyone wants to fuck reader, horny simp men

A/N : and so it starts!!! is everyone ready to see the submissions from your favorite horndogs? :) (also i hope you can tell whose who hehehe) i'm trying to keep the writing inclusive for every sort of female presenting person so let me know how i've done!

The next few weeks passed in a blur of lace, lube, and direct deposits that made your head spin. What had started as a desperate half-joke had morphed into a full-blown empire - your empire. The girl who once contemplated selling her underwear for gas money was now clearing rent, tuition, groceries, and still had enough left over to drop serious coin on clothes and silk bed sheets.

You’d gone to the next level. Your friends were of course benefitting from your suspiciously newfound wealth, you casually said you had found a better part-time job, never letting them know the truth when you decided to take them shopping. Not yet at least.

Private requests were your bread and butter. You weren’t just good anymore - you were a professional tease, a digital siren with a library of toys, outfits, and vocal tones that could bring grown men to their knees. They paid for everything; soft whispers, rough talk, slow stroking, filthy roleplays. Some just oddly wanted to hear your moans on loop. Others wanted personalized videos where you called them by username and told them exactly what you’d do if they ever had the balls to show up in person.

You were making big bank. Like “accidental tax bracket change” big. Like “should probably consult a financial advisor” big.

And the men?

Oh, the men were obsessed.

Especially the regulars. Their usernames lit up your screen night after night, tipping with reckless abandon, flooding the chat with unfiltered thirst. You didn’t know who they were in real life, yet, but their personalities bled through the screen in such vivid, chaotic little ways.

EmoWithaBoner was yearning. Desperate in a way that made your chest clench and your thighs twitch. His messages were usually soft, almost sweet - You deserve everything, You looked so beautiful tonight - until something cracked open inside him mid-message and he’d type something crazy like: I would lick your cunt until you beg me to stop. Now that had gotten a small “Oh.” out of you. He wanted to worship you and ruin you all at once.

SixEyesOnly was a fucking menace. Flirty, cocky, constantly sending emojis that were way too smug for someone probably watching with only one hand available. His tips were ridiculous, like, spend $300 just to watch you eat grapes in a bad wig slowly sort of ridiculous, and his messages read like he was trying to fluster you on purpose. You assumed it was some sort of control thing with him, throwing money at people and getting them to do it. No complaints from you.

TempleOfSin was smooth, a little poetic, a little filthy. He asked for long, descriptive videos where you described what you were wearing, how you’d touch him, how you'd taste. He liked to also order roleplay videos where you pretended to worship him like he was some sort of God. Sometimes he called you his loyal little follower. You didn’t ask questions.

daddyissuez was feral. No other word for it. His requests were blunt, primal, always toeing the line of what the platform allowed and your own, now lacking, self-control. He liked spit, degradation, and power games. His tipping was sporadic and a lot less compared to the others, though, it was enough to keep him in your attention.

OfficeAfterHours was different. Polite. Polished. His messages came like little business memos laced with innuendo. “You looked stunning tonight. That color suits you,” followed by a $200 tip telling you to buy more in the same color. Never crude, always composed. It made him stand out more, somehow. Like a man who didn’t need to beg. A man who expected what he wanted, and always got it.

And then there was KingOfRot.

Unpredictable. Crude. Arrogant. He dropped tips like they were nothing. $500 just because you looked at the camera in a way he said was like a ‘deer in the headlights’. Odd, but $500 was a good amount to keep your mouth shut. He called you “pet,” “whore,” “delicious little thing.” You should’ve blocked him. Instead, you kept reading his messages twice over with your jaw unhinged and in wonderment whether or not he actually said that. His energy was intense and you hated how hot that was.

Which brings us to tonight.

You were perched in your new silk sheets, ring light warm against your skin, wearing your most transparent slip where your nipples were clearly on display and a smug little smirk behind that now iconic mask of yours. You’d hyped this stream for days - teased it on your feed, hinted at it in DMs. The chat was already on fire and you hadn’t even said a word yet. Tonight was a big one.

EmoWithaBoner: god ur so fucking hot tonight SixEyesOnly: i logged in 15 minutes early and i still feel late :(( OfficeAfterHours: You’ve outdone yourself this evening. KingOfRot: Come on, get to the fucking point, girl.

You grinned, slow and lethal, dragging your fingers along your inner thigh and ignoring KingOfRot.

“Well,” you purred, “I figured since you’ve all been very generous lately… it’s time I give something back.”

SixEyesOnly: oh fuck You licked your lips, loving the short little power trip it gave you. “I’ve been thinking,” you said, voice sweet and dangerous. “Maybe it’s time to start a little… tradition.”

You paused for dramatic effect.

“Fuck-a-Fan Fridays.” You bit your lip. Boom. Chat detonation. SixEyesOnly had sent you $200 just for the phrase.

EmoWithaBoner: you’re joking SixEyesOnly: oh shit baby TempleOfSin: Perfect. KingOfRot: You say when and where, pet. daddyissuez: i’ll be first. fuck the line OfficeAfterHours: I trust you've thought this through..

You leaned in close. OfficeAfterHours was cute in the way he was concerned for you. “I mean, why stop at one, right?” You giggled, cheeks burning behind your mask as you kicked your feet a little bit out of the view of your webcam. “I was gonna keep it casual, but um… yeah. What if I made it a thing? Like, a series?”

Another pause. You leaned in even closer, lowering your voice to a conspiratorial whisper that still carried heat.

“One fan. Every Friday. For seven weeks.”

You crossed your bare legs over one another, your slip rising on your thighs as you did so. “Seven Fridays. Seven people. Seven chances to fuck the brains out of a very nervous, very willing woman who cannot believe she’s actually saying this live right now.”

You sat up again, brushing the slip back into place like your nipples weren’t clearly on display.

“I mean..obviously, we’ll keep it anonymous. Like, we’re not stupid here. Masks. No faces. Just hands. Bodies. And my camera.” The chat was still in full meltdown, comments stacking so fast the shitty platform could barely keep up. Your heart was pounding, your skin warm and tingling from the high of it all—of watching them fall apart just from your voice, your words, the soft shift of silk and skin. You hadn’t even done anything explicit yet, and they were on their knees.

God, it was addictive.

You stretched your arms overhead with a soft sigh, the movement pulling your slip just high enough to tease your hips. A final little gift before the curtain dropped.

“I think that’s enough for tonight,” you said with a giggle, feigning innocence even as your gaze sparkled with something much dirtier. “You guys are gonna give me a heart attack.” SixEyesOnly: no no no don’t leave yettt!! :(( KingOfRot: You owe me for the buildup, woman. You tilted your head, lips curving into a sweet little smile as you leaned forward, giving them just one more generous view of your tits before the curtains closed.

“But before I go…” you said, voice slipping into something quieter, softer, like a secret you didn’t mean to share. “If you’re serious about Fuck-a-Fan Fridays… I want you to show me.”

The pause that followed had its own kind of weight. You watched the chat stall for half a second. The anticipation was thick enough to choke on.

“Send me a message,” you murmured, “with a picture. No face. Just your body, and cock, obviously.”

You let your fingers trail down your own torso, to your hips, your thighs, hinting at what you wanted to see. “Let me see what I’d be touching.. What I’ll be fucked braindead by.” EmoWithaBoner: fuck i’ll take a hundred SixEyesOnly: don’t lose your mind too much baby KingOfRot: It’ll be mine you dream about when you touch yourself. OfficeAfterHours: Submission will follow shortly. No face. Clean framing. High quality.

You had to laugh—giddy and a little breathless. You honestly didn’t think they’d go this feral.

“Think of it as an audition,” you said, tucking your knees to your chest, playing sweet again. “Show me what you’re offering. How you’d fit against me. In me.”

You smoothed your hand up your own thigh, lazily now, teasing.

“And just so you know,” you added with a little grin, “I’m only really looking at the ones who’ve tipped enough to keep my attention. You know who you are.”

Oh, they most definitely did.

The seven of them were already scrambling—photos incoming, tips rolling, blood leaving their brains. You didn’t need names. Their usernames were burned into your memory. Their obsessions with you were paying your bills.

“Goodnight, boys,” you whispered. “Impress me.” The second you ended the stream, you collapsed backward into your pillows with a dazed little laugh, limbs spread like you’d just run a marathon and won a gold medal in filth. The glow from your laptop cast a soft haze across your legs, the screen already lighting up with the chaos you’d left behind—tips still pouring in, messages stacking, your inbox begging for attention.

And the photos?

Oh, they were already flooding in, from people you didn’t want, but it was there regardless - upping your activity.

You rolled onto your stomach, chin resting in your palm as you clicked open the first one with a half-curious, half-unhinged smile.

No face, just like you asked. Neck down. The guy was standing in front of a mirror, one hand wrapped tight around his cock, the other lifting his hoodie to show off his chest. His abs were flexed. His cock hard enough to cast a shadow.

You blinked. Let out a slow breath.

“…Damn.”

Another one came in. Different guy, different vibe—tattoos on his hips, hand slick and stroking himself in a dimly lit bathroom, captioned: Fridays look good on me. Want to see how I look underneath you?

“Oh my god,” you whispered, laughing as you pulled your legs up behind you. “This is real. I’m really doing this.”

And you were. One fan. Every Friday. Seven weeks. Seven videos. Each one getting posted to your feed, available for your hundreds of subscribers to watch, rewatch, tip on, comment under, and probably break their dicks to.

It wasn’t just a hookup. It was content. Premium content.

Still riding the rush, you opened your messaging panel and started typing.

New Mass Message Sent to All Subscribers:

Hey babes— If you missed the stream tonight (rip to you), here’s your official invite.

Fuck-a-Fan Fridays is happening. Starting next week, I’ll be choosing seven of you to spend one very intimate night with me. Every Friday for the next seven weeks, I’ll be posting a new video. One fan. One full-length scene. Just me… and whoever impresses me the most.

How to audition:- Send me a photo. - Neck down only. No faces. Masks will be worn on camera, so full anonymity will be protected. But I need to see everything. Cock out. Hard. Your body. Your vibe. The way you'd look on camera—underneath me, on top of me, behind me, inside me.

Show off a little. Or a lot.

Make me want it. Let the auditions begin.

xoxo,

—Your girl

taglist : @frozenmallows @90s-belladonna @moncher-ire @kunareads @blublublubby @grignardsreagent @soozeu @mochiivqi @sweetsformysoul @killak9mi @celloccino @gurlhere4fluff @syubseokie

[northwestofinsanity]

AAAH, look what my local radio station back in my hometown played on the year in time Flashback segment at 9:00 this morning!! (I wasn’t even at home to hear it, since I’m away at school, but I don’t even care…) I think I’d have jumped out of my skin if I’d caught this last year.

[itsnesss]

would you ever do a kimi antonelli x famous actor movie star reader! who is at the met gala and he is just like in love with her outfit and is complimenting her so much or something like that? even maybe when they do vogue grwms??

𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬 | kimi antonelli × fem!reader

summary | you attend the met gala looking like a goddess, and kimi can't take his eyes off you

warnings | famous!reader, fluff, mild romantic tension, flirting, public attention / media speculation

word count | 0.9 k

🖇 more ka12 🖇 f1 masterlist

The hotel room smells like fresh roses and expensive makeup. You’re seated in front of the lit-up mirror while your stylist finishes the final touches on your hair.

Your lips, painted a deep wine red, curl into a small smile when the Vogue assistant asks if you're ready to film the GRWM for their YouTube channel.

"Been ready since they said 'Met Gala'," you reply with a wink, adjusting your silk robe as the camera crew sets up.

This isn’t your first red carpet, but it feels like the most special one. This year, you’re not just attending, you’re one of the main attractions. Your movie is topping the charts, your name is everywhere: on posters, on blogs, in whispers behind velvet ropes.

And apparently, in the eyes of a certain Italian racing driver.

"We’re rolling in 3, 2..." the director says, and you let out a soft laugh.

The recording begins, and you talk about your dress, a custom Schiaparelli design, deep black with hand-stitched golden details. The sculpted corset gives off armor vibes, while the tulle skirt floats like smoke around your legs. You talk about the inspiration: constellations, baroque art, the kind of goddess who gets dressed to conquer the sky.

You don’t say it aloud, but you're hoping someone out there notices all the details you poured your heart into.

That “someone” shows up two hours later.

The Met Gala is already underway when your car pulls up to the Met steps. The second the door opens, camera flashes explode around you and the crowd screams like a wave crashing over your ears.

"You’ve got this," you whisper to yourself as you adjust your dress and your perfectly practiced expression.

You walk the carpet, you pose, you smile. Everything is routine… until you see him.

Kimi Antonelli. The breakout Formula 1 star. Dressed in a perfectly tailored tux, elegant and effortlessly youthful. He shouldn't be looking at you. But he is. Like you're the only person on that carpet.

As you approach, someone from the event staff tries to guide you away, but Kimi steps forward.

"Can I...?" he asks, his smile shy as he offers his arm.

Your laugh is more genuine than anything you've done tonight.

"You're going to escort me, racer boy?"

"Only if you’ll let me say you look like..." he pauses, glancing at you from head to toe, a bit dazed, "...like a piece of art. Literally. I think time stopped for a second."

Your cheeks heat up slightly. No one’s ever said it quite like that, so direct, so honest.

"That’s a pretty poetic line for someone who drives at 300 km/h," you reply, looping your arm through his. "Are you always this charming?"

Kimi chuckles, soft and genuine.

"Only when someone takes my breath away. And you... you did that the moment you walked in."

You walk beside Kimi as the flashes continue nonstop. Every step with him on your arm becomes a moment worthy of a magazine cover. The cameras aren’t just capturing your dress, they’re capturing the way he looks at you: unapologetically, fully present, as if the rest of the world simply disappeared.

"Did you know I was coming tonight?" you ask under your breath, still smiling for the Vogue Italia photographer.

"They invited me about a month ago," he replies. "But I didn’t know you’d be here. If I had, I would've dressed better."

"Better than this?" you glance at him briefly, taking in his look. "You're flawless."

He smiles, but glances down for a moment, slightly shy. So different from the actors you usually hang around. Younger, yes but also more transparent. Like he’s not trying to impress you… but somehow still doing it.

That’s when an E! News reporter appears with a mic and an excited grin.

"The two of you together! This is unexpected!" she exclaims. "Can we steal a second of your time for the fans?"

You nod politely, and Kimi though a little surprised stays right beside you. The questions are light. They ask about your dress, your movie, your prep for the night. But when the reporter turns to him:

"And you, Kimi? Are you here with our star tonight, or was this a coincidence?"

He doesn’t even hesitate.

"If it was a coincidence, it’s the best one I’ve ever had."

The reporter laughs, you laugh too. But there’s a quiet flutter deep in your chest.

"So drivers don’t just go fast they think fast too?" you tease.

"Only when they’re in danger," he says. "Or when they’ve got a goddess on their arm."

The interview ends with light laughs, but you're not the only one who noticed the exchange. As you turn toward the entrance, you spot a few people whispering. Some fans filming with their phones. The internet is probably eating this up already.

"You did that on purpose?" you ask Kimi, still holding onto his arm.

"Did what?"

"That line. Letting everyone think we’re together."

He gives a small shrug, but his eyes are dead serious.

"I didn’t plan it. But... if the world wants to believe it, I don’t mind."

The silence that follows feels warm. Unexpected.

And then, the doors to the Met close behind you. Classical music spills across marble floors, and golden light gleams off ancient sculptures. Everything glows, but nothing glows quite like the smile he gives you when he leans in and whispers:

"Can I stay with you tonight?"

Your heart skips.

"The whole gala?"

"The whole life, if you let me."

[alexanderwales]

I keep wanting a time loop story that takes serious the idea that random chance exists and you can't become literally perfect at a thing merely through repetition.

Pete Weber is one of the greatest bowlers of all time. He rolled 85 300 games in PBA competition, over maybe 5400 PBA games. The math is a little unclear here, but it's good enough for me: about 1/60. That's a man who spent thousands of hours practicing, who had the mechanics and metal game down, etc.

So if you're in a time loop, and you have decades to practice bowling, I think you could get really fucking good at bowling. What you couldn't do is consistently bowl a 300 game.

And I would love to see a time loop story where someone says "alright, I can do this trick about half the time, and this trick that follows it about a tenth of the time, and I really need to get more consistent at both of them, or find a better strategy, because this is only a one in twenty chance to even be able to attempt the third trick in that sequence".

This is not what people come to time loops for, but that's why I like it.

[beenbaanbuun]

guard dog w/ jeong yunho

pt2

you live in a shitty apartment in a shitty neighbourhood surrounded by shitty neighbours who seem to make it their life’s work to make your life a living hell

the guy that lives across from you is an aspiring dj, emphasis on aspiring

unfortunately with him working the late shift at his supermarket job, it means he likes to practice late into the night

after the first 5 noice complaints, you just gave up trying to get a decent night sleep; part of you thinks he carried on just as one giant ‘fuck you’

the family that live upstairs aren’t great either

the son—timmy? tommy? who cares—thinks it’s fun to sit on the stairs with his buddies and smoke anything they can get their hands on

your air freshener is the only thing keeping you from losing your mind at them! well, that and the fact that quite frankly him and his friends terrify you

they watch you carefully as you make your way down the stairs, pushing through their congregation with a tight lipped, overly polite smile on your face

usually they don’t say a word, giving you little more acknowledgment than a hum as you thank them for barely making enough room for you to push through them

they make you nervous, you can’t deny that, and half of you thinks that’s the whole point

it’s like it’s some sort of strange power play to keep you from complaining to his parents, or worse, the landlord

not exactly a threat, but not not one

maybe it’s those nerves that made you open up to your friend one day

you’d met up with him at a local cafe, offering to pay for his coffee if he gave you half of the sandwich he’d brought with him

“they just spook me a little, y’know?” you mumble as a few crumbs topple over your bottom lip and onto your chin, “it’s a group of 10 over-grown teenage boys; it’s fucking intimidating!”

mingi just nods along, a small frown on his face as he listens to you complain about your living conditions for what seems like the millionth time

he gets it; moving is expensive, especially in the city, and you need to stay relatively close to where you work since you don’t have a car

it doesn’t mean he has to like it, though

“what about a guar—”

“a guard dog?” you cut him off, “mingi, we’ve had this conversation so many times before!”

it’s the truth; it seems like every single time you see him he brings up the same suggestion; scary dog privileges can get you very far in life according to you friend

“too mentally ill to look after another life, sure,” he reiterates the same point you make every single time, “but what about a hybrid?”

again, it feels like you’re in a constant loop of deja vu, destined to relive this conversation over and over again until you can finally afford to move out of that shit hole

“i can’t aff—”

“—afford a hybrid, yeah i know,” you roll your eyes as he finishes your sentence; jesus, he’s annoying, “but what if i told you i knew a guy?”

it sounds suspicious, but you won’t lie and say you’re not a little curious

perhaps you’re just a little too nosy to not lean in a little closer with a brow cocked a question of ‘who?’ primed on your tongue

“can’t say,” is all mingi says, “he doesn’t like people poking around in his business.”

he says it so nonchalantly as if he’s not your best friend who’s just announced that he knows someone who is almost definitely into some dodgy shit

you’d be a bad friend if you didn’t ask at least a few questions, but before you can even open your mouth, mingi beats you to it

“£200 will get you a hybrid though,” you almost choke on the sandwich at the price; this is some seriously dodgy guy if he’s selling hybrids for that little, “£300 if you start laying down preferences.”

“mingi,” you begin, about to beg him to get out of whatever business he’s getting himself involved in

“i’m assuming it’s a no?” he raises an eyebrow; you don’t even have to nod for him to understand your answer

he concedes, throwing his hands up in surrender like he always does whenever you have this conversation

still, the smirk on his face as the conversation moves onto something else doesn’t fill you with the upmost confidence

a week passes by rather quickly; you work, you come home, you go about your evenings as normal, you sleep

nothing seems any different, and why would it? nothing about your life ever really changes without some sort of built up or expectation

and then your doorbell rings

you assume it’s just your neighbour again, around at yours to ask you some sort of stupid question that could easy be solved using a single braincell and google

you trudge to the door with a sour look on your face and a bitterness already growing on your tongue, just to swing it open to see… not your neighbour

not anyone you recognise for that matter

your gaze travels up from the chest you stand eye-to-eye with, traipsing lazily over the defined muscles on his neck before reaching his face

a jaw set in stone, two steely brown eyes and a pair of jet black dog ears are what immediately catch your attention

that and the fact that he’s very handsome; so much so that it takes everything in you not to stare at him with your mouth wide open

“are you going to let me in?” he says as if the hybrid’s arrival at your door was at all expected by you

“who are you?” is the only response you can

“your guard dog,” he replies, and just like that everything clicks into place

mingi, that bastard

“but i didn’t pay for a guard dog,” you argue, hoping that it’ll be enough to make him go back to whatever creep it is that mingi has gotten involved with

“well, someone did.”

he looks bored as he uses a hand to push you aside and steps past you into your tiny apartment, as if this is just another day for him

maybe it is; you don’t know much about hybrids, but you’ve heard enough stories to know just how many of them go through life without a permanent home

they’re tossed from pillar to post as if they’re not conscious beings with minds and lives of their own

it’s sad, the fact that they can be so easily tossed aside by so many people

it’s even sadder to find yourself relating to that feeling

you shut the door, twisting the lock with a finality that you’re not sure you understand

“what’s your name?” you ask as you turn to face him

“yunho,” he sighs

it’s a pretty name, you think to yourself

one that you wouldn’t mind saying over and over again for the… foreseeable future…

seriously, fuck song mingi

“well i’m—”

“i know your name, puppy,” your mouth snaps shut at the authority that laces itself into his words, “it’s all i’ve heard for the past few days.”

you zip your mouth shut, something in your brain warning you not to speak out of turn

something in your brain seems to forget that this is your own home; surely you can speak whenever you want to

“i wasn’t sure what to expect, but you seem to fit the bill,” dark pupils land on your body, dancing up and down your form before finally meeting your eyes, “a pretty thing like you in a town like this? i’m shocked you’re still in one piece.”

“how dare you, i—”

“where am i sleeping?” he cuts you off like your complaints are little more than the stubborn words of a child

it irritates you to no end, and yet you can’t find the words to fight back

there’s just something in his eyes that has you convinced that maybe you’re not the one in charge here

“the couch,” you point to the ratty leather thing, feeling a slight twinge of guilt that it’s the only thing you have to offer

he takes a glance at at for just a second or two before shaking his head

“no,” he replies, “you have a double bed, right?”

“a double—” your eyes go wide, “you’re not sleeping in my bed!”

“yes, i am,” he insists, condescending and annoying. you hate him already, “because i’m certainly not sleeping on that thing, puppy.”

it doesn’t go unnoticed that he’s yet to use your name, instead sticking to that godforsaken nickname

if you thought it would make a difference, you might say something about it, but the stubborn arsehole has already shown enough of himself to make you understand that it would do very little

“the floor is available,” you spit, venemously

“and yet it tempts me even less than the sofa,” he smiles sarcastically and it boils your blood, “you’re just gonna have to get used to sharing.”

he takes a few paces forward until you’re having to crane your neck to look him in the eyes

you can practically feel his breath dancing across your cheeks as he lets out a low chuckle, a darkness washing over his face as he studies you

“you’re gonna have to get used to a lot of things now that i’m here,” warmth spreads across your cheek as his palm moves to cup it, “but that’s okay puppy, i can be patient while you learn.”

[mwagneto]

something so wild it loops back around to being funny has been happening in hungary lately. the fascist government (fidesz) is waging an ever escalating war against budapest which just got even worse

the basic bg info is that fidesz has an overwhelming majority in the entire country but they can never fully win budapest even despite how much they cheat since most ppl here vote left, so instead they've spent the last few years trying to make life as impossible for the leftist lordmayor (KG here, for the sake of brevity) as they could, usually financially (withholding payments, making up new things the city is forced to pay, withdrawing random unexplained amounts of money etc)

then a year ago the mayor elections rolled around and fidesz attempted to get KG out of the office by withdrawing their own candidate and backing one they would've had more influence over, but even despite that (and fidesz committing massive voter fraud in front of god and everybody), KG won again, by like 300 votes (total number of votes was almost 800,000 for reference) which made fidesz's campaign against their own capital city even more aggressive, like they somehow think actively making the lives of the people in budapest shittier will make them not want to reelect KG aka the guy who isn't responsible for it ?? it's some insane pettiness you'd see on a playground but executed by a dictatorship instead, for some reason

anyway the latest development is that fidesz, without warning, withdrew 10 billion forint (~28 million usd/~24 million eur) from budapest a few days ago in order to finance the crumbling economy of the rest of the country, which essentially means the city is Entirely out of money. can't pay for anything. had to shut several services down and create an emergency council that constantly monitors their finances so they can attempt to stay afloat. it's an absolute mess and public transport workers are going on a demonstration strike this friday for 10 minutes as protest but will do a full strike later if fidesz doesn't listen

all this finally brings us to what this post is mainly about, which is that now i get to have the INCREDIBLE experience of sitting on public transport and seeing the usual anti-KG/pro-fidesz propaganda posters that are everywhere (like pictures of KG's face in black and white with his eyes blacked out like a 2015 animatic with a caption like HE WANTS TO EAT YOUR CHILDREN) while the bus/tram/etc radio occasionally plays a short speech about how fidesz is trying to sink budapest and we need to stick together against the government so they can't destroy our city. genuinely fucking unmatched. clown country

[a-clone-of-myself]

[All you could have been, all you cannot be.]

[...You wish for a place you cannot reach.]

Sign ups are now open! You can access the form here!

Loop credit, from left to right:

Mal by me!

Lucy by @iknowicanbutwhy

Tele by @flootfloot

Original Siffrin!

Memry by @thesmallersnow

Original Loop!

Lou by anonymous

More information on the zine:

Overview:

As an avid Loop and oc enthusiast, I have been fascinated with all the different versions of Loop this fandom has to offer! From aus, to human versions, to even putting other characters/ocs in the role of 'Loop'! I've even made my own au Loop.

A lot of people don't have a place to share their Loops, so here it is! An opportunity to talk about/draw your Loop as much as you want, and work with other people who are excited to hear about them!

The zine itself will be free and digital, but will have printable dimensions if you wish to print it yourself.

Schedule:

Most of the communication will be done through discord, but other forms of communication are accepted if you do not have discord.

May 22st: Sign-ups open

June 22st: Sign-ups close

June 22nd - June 30th: Contacting contributors

July 1st: Zine work begins

August 1st: 1st draft check in

September 1st: 2nd draft check in

October 1st: Final draft check in

October 10th: Contributor deadline

The goal is to have the zine out on November 20th, ISAT's anniversary

You get a little over 3 months to work on it (this can change if the majority of people feel this is too short).

Formatting:

For artists: Dimensions are A4, 2480 × 3508, 300 dpi.

Comics are allowed and there is no page limit.

Submissions will be in PNG or JPEG format.

For animators: A still preview will be required, with the same dimensions and format, however, the actual animations can be submitted as a GIF or a youtube video, which will be linked with your preview.

For writers: There is no minimum word count, and the maximum word count is 20,000 words.

Submissions will be in DOC/DOCX or TXT format.

For cosplayers/traditional artists: Photos of your contribution will be accepted, but please format them with the artist dimensions.

All contributors are allowed to submit 2 pieces maximum, of any medium. You are also allowed to mix mediums, for example, fanfics with art in them.

Feel free to ask any questions that haven't already been answered! I hope you'll stick around, whether you can join or not!

[revelboo]

I haven't actually read the canon content for lost light tbh, just fics. So I'm not sure his face place even works right cus I only ever see his mouth closed...

✨How ever✨ if it does open

I feel like Cyclonus could eat out reader the best. Top tier tongue game. Man being trilingual, a Cunni-linguist if you will.

I’m pretty sure it does open- and I headcanon him and TFA Blitzwing (maybe Brainstorm, too) having crazy venom-style glossas

🔞 Mass displaced mech 🌶️

Well. That’s not terrifying to wake up to. It’s typically around 300-400 max overnight

Scenario-glossa

Cyclonus x Reader x Tailgate

• “Do I even want to know what you two are giggling about?” Cyclonus growls, head lifting from his datapad. And you go red as Tailgate starts shaking with laughter to make his optics narrow. Deciding that no, he probably doesn’t want to know because it’s likely about him. Venting tiredly as you lean into the mass displaced minibot, hand over your mouth to keep from laughing and Tailgate flaps a hand at him.

• “Do the thing,” Tailgate demands, hooking an arm around you as you choke with laughter. And Cyclonus just stares at you both. “You know, my favorite thing,” Tailgate adds and Cyclonus growls, mouth opening and- holy crow. Your own mouth is falling open as you see his glossa for the first time. Oh. Ohhhhh. And you’re squirming against Tailgate.

• Feels the shift in your biofield where you’re leaning against him as Cyclonus curls his glossa slightly to make a loop with the tip. “Berth, please,” you say, staring and Tailgate cracks up as Cyclonus freezes and makes a low, rumbling noise. ‘Seconded,’ Tailgate adds, hooking an arm around you and dragging you so you’re sitting between his spread thighs. Hears Cyclonus clear his vents with a little huff, but he sets his datapad aside and stalks over. Rubbing his masked face against your neck as you start stripping, Tailgate rumbles. Wants to see how you look with Cyclonus’s glossa between your thighs, the sounds you make.

• Vaulting up with the two of you and mass shifting, he kneels between your spread thighs. Watching Tailgate’s wandering hands stroking over you. Knowing that the minibot just wants him to get you ready for his spike, but he’s been wondering how you’d taste. Knows how you feel wrapped around his spike, all slick heat. And before the end, he’ll be spike deep in both of you anyway taking turns with you.

• Flushing as Cyclonus stretches out between your thighs and drags that glossa against your inner thigh, looking up at you and his stare is almost predatory. And you’re grabbing his horns when he licks you, that thick glossa tunneling inside you as you throw your head back against Tailgate, hips bucking. Moaning a protest when Tailgate hooks his leg under yours one at a time to lift them over Cyclonus’s shoulders. Feel that thick glossa curling, thrusting inside you as he growls. “Your favorite thing, too, huh?” Tailgate whispers, masked cheek brushing yours as he watches, a servo brushing your bottom lip and you latch on to him with a whimper. Definitely your new favorite thing.

[takimakiiiii]

what if? (i told you i loved you)

pairing - ollie bearman x fem!reader

themes - PURE FLUFFFFFFF

summary - ollie tells you he loves you but not before getting awful advice from kimi

word count: around 300?

a/n: just something small i wrote last night after listening to how would you feel by ed sheeran - it’s lowkey bad because my writing has been pretty sucky lately and im trying to write so many things at once (bad idea yall do NOT do what i am doing ✋😭) anyways enjoy!

<———————————————————————>

“What could possibly go wrong?” was quite possibly the worst this to say to Ollie in this moment as he frantically paced his living room. His hands were buried in his hair and his face scrunched up in a way which called for desperate measures. Kimi eyed his friend partly amused, partly concerned, as he walked back and forth across the room like a video on loop. 

“What if you just wait?” offered Kimi, Ollie paused his pacing and stared at him as he faltered under his glare, laughing nervously. Kimi cleared his throat before he spoke, “What I meant to say was, maybe wait a while, you don’t want to scare the poor girl away.” he put delicately. 

“But. . . I don’t want to wait. I mean, it doesn’t have to be perfect right? It’s just saying. . . I love you.” 

The words heavy yet light sat on his tongue. Ollie looked to Kimi for help who’s hands shot up defensively. He pointed at him and clicked his fingers, a widespread grin on his face. 

“Don’t look at me, Eli was the one who said it first.” he pointed out, watching as his friend finally stopped pacing. Ollie sat across from him, burying his head in his hands. Personally, Kimi thought he was overreacting big time. Not that he could speak from much experience though.

“How do I say it, do I say it casually like an in-the-moment thing? Or maybe-“

“Do you want to practice?” Kimi asked teasingly as he wiggled his eyebrows up and down. Ollie glared and threw a pillow at his face in reply, Kimi caught it with a huff.

“Look, just say it because you mean it. It doesn’t have to be fancy, if you tell someone you love them it’s because you want them to know.” A moment of silence passed between them and Ollie raised his eyebrows. Far too heartfelt and touchey for them. Kimi cringed at his own words and offered an unhelpful sympathetic glance to Ollie who glared at him in reply. 

“You should’ve called Arthur instead, he’s 10 times better at this.” Kimi grumbled, sick of playing wingman for his friend. 

“For all we know he’s probably partying on a yacht somewhere in the middle of the ocean.” Ollie grumbled in annoyance.

“The lucky bastard.” Kimi scowled, throwing the pillow back. Ollie caught it and let out a groan, leaning as back as he could into the armchair. He buried his face in the pillow. 

“Maybe I’ll just wing it.” he spoke, words muffled. 

“Famous last words.” Kimi acknowledged with a chuckle sending Ollie spiralling.

*

You laid back pressed Ollie’s chest, one hand shielding your eyes from the rays of the sunset that glared before you. Letting out a peaceful sigh, you glanced up at him. He’d been sitting nervously since you’d arrived at the park. You’d noticed the way he ran his hand through his hair every few seconds, he way he kept glancing over at you, even the sweat that had began to form on his forehead. You smiled fondly, watching as his jaw tensed under your stare. 

“Everything okay, Bearman?” you asked curiously, breaking the silence. The chatter in the park began to die out as the sun set behind the skyline. Ollie eyes flickered over to you, startled by your voice. He swallowed, “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” he cleared his throat, looking down at you. His eyes skipped over you before he looking back up at the sunset.

“Maybe because you skipped the sim today to come pick me up from work?” you suggested, noticing the way his eyes reflected the sunset as warm pools of honey. Subconsciously your mouth ticked up in a smile, heart skipping a beat in your chest. 

“Hey, I do that all the time.” Ollie protested, a light humour to his voice. You rolled your eyes playfully, “Sure you do, handsome.” Silence passed between the two of you as you watched the sunset, its colours dancing across the sky above you. You let out a deep sigh, allowing your eyes to close.

“Y/N?” 

Your eyes opened slowly and you glanced back at Ollie. You sat up and turned to face him, oblivious to the way he looked at you so fondly. 

Your heart fluttered under his gaze.

“Yeah?” you beckoned, awaiting his question. You noticed the way his fists clenched and jaw tensed as he sat up, looking for his words. 

“I know we haven’t been dating for long but. . . I really uhhh,” Ollie tripped over his words before groaning. You watched him take a deep breath in.

“I love you.” 

A warm feeling exploded through your chest and your heart felt like it was beating a thousand times faster than before. It felt like your brain had short circuited. Much to Ollie’s surprise, you burst out in laughter. He watched horrified as you rolled onto your back, clutching your stomach with laughter. 

Was this a normal reaction to telling someone you love them? Ollie wondered before he realised this was exactly why he did. He loved everything about you. He loved the way you smiled all the time and it made him feel like he was flying up in the clouds. He loved the way you went out of your way to make everyone feel special, especially him. He loved you, and it couldn’t have been truer in that moment. 

Ollie lay beside you on the grass and looked over at you, a gigantic smile on your face. You let out a chuckle, “So that’s why you’ve been sweating so much? I thought it was because of the walk here, no offence.” 

“Woah, offence taken.” He scrunched up his face, sending you both into fits of giggles. After the laughter died out you turned on your side to face him. You half expected him to be anxious since you were yet to say it back, but you were taken by surprise when you saw him relaxed and smiling back at you. 

Your eyes glazed over him, his rosy cheeks, honey eyes and that smile that made your head grow dizzy. 

That one Taylor Swift lyric blasted at the back of your mind - “In a world of boys, he’s a gentleman.” 

“Creepy much?” you teased, poking him in the shoulder, rolling your eyes playfully. Your stomach felt like you were on a roller coaster, heart beating so loud it felt like it was going to shoot out of your chest. 

“I’m hurt.” he placed his hand on his heart dramatically. 

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” you spoke poshly, attempting your best at mimicking Ollie’s English accent. He poked you back in the ribs playfully, sending you into laughter until your stomach ached. 

Out of breath, you turned to him, eyes catching his and everything felt right. 

“I love you too.” you whispered, leaning in and pecking him on the cheek before jumping to your feet. Ollie sat up and watched as you held your hand out to him, eyes glinting mischievously. He slowly took your hand and stood up cautiously, eyeing you suspiciously. 

“What?” you asked, doing an awful job at holding back a laugh at his reaction. He studied your face for a moment, eyes narrowed. 

“What?” Ollie countered, the corners of his mouth pulled in a grin. 

“Last one to the car has to clean the dishes tonight!” you yelled as you shot off in the direction of the car. Ollie ran after you, the park filled with both your laughter as the sun disappeared behind the buildings. 

a/n: it’s super short but i hope you enjoyed!

[darkwicks]

calling them by their real name instead of their pet name

FEATURING Cypher, Phoenix, Sova, Yoru (separate) | gender-neutral reader; fluff, established relationship; pet names used: babe, baby, honey, my love; no beta we die like Cypher in cinematics | wc: 300-500 each

AO3. masterlist. request rules. | reblogs and comments are always appreciated!!

“My love, can you get me a drink, please?”

“I don’t know, Amir, can I?”

The way he slowly turns around to look at you is comical. The fact that his mask already looks like a surprised expression didn’t help you, either. You quickly drop the amusement on your features, raising an eyebrow and staring blankly at him instead. Without looking at the remote, he pauses the programme on the television as he stares at you, flabbergasted.

“Did I forget something?”

You purse your lips. “What do you mean?”

“You called me Amir.”

“That’s your name.” You feign confusion. “What’s wrong with it?”

He gets up from the couch and makes his way toward you with urgency. You’re holding back a laugh as he holds your hands in his, trying to read your expression and figure you out. You didn’t think it would actually work on him. Calling him babe had been a slip of the tongue, but ever since it happened, he’s been adamant you call him that instead of Cypher. Considering you’re both often at work, that nickname is reserved for behind closed doors, within the walls of your own home.

“Are you angry at me?”

You can’t hold it in anymore—you burst into giggles, the sound filling the otherwise quiet room. Realising what you’re playing, he lets out a relieved sigh and warily takes a seat. Your little stunt had made him weak in the knees. You didn’t think it would actually work.

“I’m sorry. It was a joke,” you manage to say through your laughter. “I just wanted to see how you’d react.”

He slouches over. “You could have killed me.”

“It’s okay, Cypher.”

“No,” he retorts. “Not Amir. Not Cypher.”

“But that’s your name.” You can practically see the frown on his face when he looks up at you. “Why can’t I call you that?”

“It’s not good for my heart.”

“Okay, okay,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him closer. His arms come to loop around your waist as he buries his face in your chest. “Is this better, honey?”

“Much better.”

Pet names had come naturally for you and Phoenix. He can’t go a sentence or two without saying love or babe. He’s affectionate with you, physically and verbally, and after watching a clip of it online, you wanted to know what he’d do if you said his name instead. 

You’re relaxing on the bed as he lays his head on your lap, sinking into the softness of your thighs. You’re still engrossed in the article you’re reading on your tablet. It’s far more interesting than you’d initially given it credit for. It’s not related to the upcoming deadlines by any means, but you’re so close to going insane after nagging your group mates several times the past week. Phoenix staying over for the weekend is the perfect opportunity for you to ease your worries. 

You’ve decided to test out the theory today, feeling particularly mischievous this afternoon. He fiddles with your fingers, staring up at the ceiling in complete boredom. You initially planned for it to be a lazy day today, having had an exhausting week, but as always, your beloved Jamie can never sit still.

“I’m just sayin’, we should go do something,” he complains and takes the tablet off your hands, tossing it to a random corner of the mattress. “You’ve been studying all week. You’re neglecting me, your boyfriend. Let’s go out and do something. Anything.”

“Sure, Jamie,” you reply offhandedly. “I’m done here anyway.”

“Great, I—Jamie?” he says incredulously, shooting you an offended look. “That’s not my name.”

“But it is your name.”

“No, I’m babe or baby. I don’t know who Jamie is.”

You glance down at him, lips curling into an amused smile. “That would be you, Jamie.”

“See? You’re doing it again!” He huffs, his brows furrowed together as he stares at you in disbelief. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing! I’m just talking to you like I always do,” you say, holding in a laugh. “You’re the one who’s acting weird.”

“Call me properly.”

“Jamie.”

“No!” he groans. “It’s babe!”

You finally let the laughter free, your shoulders shaking with mirth as you throw your head back. After calming down, you look back at him, beyond entertained by the pure displeasure on his face.

“God, fine, you big baby.”

“That’s still not it.”

You let out an exaggerated sigh and pretend to be annoyed, playfully rolling your eyes. “Okay, babe, let’s go out.”

“That’s more like it,” he grumbles. “Calling me Jamie. You’re so rude. I thought you loved me.”

Needless to say, you got exactly what you wanted.

Drowsiness still lingers in your system as you drag your slipper-clad feet across the wooden floor. There’s something about winter that just leaves you so fatigued all the time. You’re more used to the summer heat, feeling the sun’s rays warming your skin and sipping cold drinks. Here, there’s nothing but snow, and as much as you love Sasha, how he can willingly stay in this kind of weather is beyond you.

As if he could sense your plight, he wraps a hand around your waist and slides a warm drink your way. An idea goes off in your head. Sleepiness be damned—you need to tease this man now. Composing yourself, you take the mug and offer him a warm, appreciative smile. 

“Thank you, Alexander.”

He freezes, a frown overtaking his features. “Have I done something wrong?”

The genuine confusion and distress in his tone makes it increasingly difficult to keep up your charade. He’s no stranger to your mischief; you tease him more times than he can count. Someone has to keep him on his toes, after all. Who else is perfect for the job, if not you? Still on a kick, you pretend nothing occurred, taking a sip of the drink and looking at him curiously.

“What?”

“You called me Alexander.” He stands in front of you, lips pursed in concern. His voice is soft, guilty over something that he didn’t do. “You never do that.”

You shrug casually. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Talk to me,” he says pleadingly, reaching out to cradle the side of your face. “What did I do?”

What was meant to be a silly joke winds up making you feel guilty. You only wanted to see how he’d react. The thought of actually upsetting him weighs heavy on your shoulders so you decide to give up the act, wanting to spare his feelings. Toying with someone as earnest as him was a terrible idea. 

“I was just kidding,” you chuckle awkwardly. “I’m not mad at you. I’m sorry.”

He breathes a sigh of relief. “Really?”

“Really.” You gently clasp your hand on top of his and nod, giving him a reassuring smile. “I owe you some good loving now, don’t I?”

He returns the gesture, although there’s a hint of exasperation in his. “Yes. You do.”

You spend the rest of the morning glued to his side. He stays closer to you, talks to you more carefully. It takes several kisses for him to finally relax and be able to put his mind at rest. You’ll play around in a less worrying way next time.

You love getting on Yoru’s nerves.

You know it. He knows it. Everyone knows it. Even before you got together, you teased him a lot, revelling in his irritation. It’s all in good fun. You don’t always mess with him—contrary to popular belief, Ryo Kiritani is indeed capable of sulking—but the impulse to be a brat with him is constantly there. Your penchant for getting a rise out of him is just hard to ignore.

The market is as vibrant as ever, full of locals and tourists alike as people happily chatter in the cheery atmosphere. Bags of snacks and souvenirs hang from your wrists as you take another sip of your drink, satisfying your earlier craving for something sweet.

A mischievous smile crawls to your lips. You turn to him with enthusiasm, eyes practically twinkling in joy as you lean in closer, holding in the chuckles threatening to leave you.

“Ryo, let’s go to the photo booth.”

He stops scrolling on his phone, meeting your gaze with a look of annoyance and disbelief. “What did you call me?”

“Ryo,” you say, acting confused as to why he was asking something so obvious. “You know, your name.”

He sighs heavily and brings his hand up to your face before squishing your cheeks together, making you squeak. He clicks his tongue, frowning at the way you found a way to push his buttons so easily. You lightly swat his hand in response, unable to stop the way your laughter just pours out of your lips. Whatever he’d been looking at on his phone is long forgotten—you have his full attention now.

“Let go!”

“No.”

You’re wholly delighted.

“Ryo, let go.”

He scowls. “Don’t call me that.”

“Don’t call you what?” you giggle. “What else am I supposed to say?”

“Brat,” he hisses. There’s no actual vitriol in his words, just the typical affectionate exasperation. “You know.”

“No, I don’t.” Your smile grows even wider as his fingers dig into your cheeks, his frustration growing more evident with each passing second. Though very humoured by the situation, you finally relent. You’ve tested him enough. “Babe, I’m just kidding.”

Yoru narrows his eyes at you before letting go. He mutters something under his breath, presumably a complaint, and flicks you on the forehead, ignoring the show of pain you put on. It didn’t hurt. He never makes it hurt. You just like getting a reaction out of him. He’s endlessly so endearing and entertaining—it’s not your fault you want to see more of it!

“I’m breaking up with you.”

“You love me.”

He huffs. “Unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately? You take that back right now!”

“It’s payback. You called me by the wrong name.”

“Babe!”

[cherrielatte]

POV: You're Sora

This is a WIP I've been working on for the past few...idk weeks? I decided to practice working on CSP and I figured what better way than to try an animation. Especially, since it requires multiple passes over my same work over and over. This is no where near the end of the intended loop. I want it to go on - and show a wave of emotion evolve from fondness, jealousy, anguish, anger, to coldness & distance. In the POV of Sora kinda recollecting Riku's emotional evolution that (he feels) he neglected till now. And to no one's surprise, this was all inspired by music. Pls listen to this song and imagine the melodrama with me. Whenever I hear this song I always wanted to do something soriku with it.

( the song ) - The Nutcracker, Op. 71, Act II: No. 14a, Pas de deux. Andante maestoso.

I hope to finish this eventually. Im revising it little by little as I go. But im not used to working with a screenless tablet and im also relatively new to animation, so please excuse my slow work.

Unrelated, but related, I once had an art teacher tell me I was too ambitious. At the time, I told her "oh, thank you!" not realizing until idk 300 years later that she was trying to temper me back to reality. lmao. Well, I kinda get it now.

[plaguedocboi]

Bottomless Pits

We post holes here, sir.

Sinkholes, pit caves, wells and cenotes all have one thing in common; sometimes they’re bottomless. Not truly “bottomless”, of course, but in appearance, reputation, or of incredible depth. We’ve seen a few of these “bottomless pits” in prior lists such as the Lost Sea in Tennessee or the Devil’s Hole in Nevada, but today we will focus on those strange places in the earth that seem to be endless.

1. Laguna Kaan Luum, Mexico

This one threw me for a loop because I was originally only seeing pictures like the one above, so I was like ‘oh, that’s cool, so it’s kinda like Dean’s Blue Hole, where it’s an ocean sinkhole right off the shore…’

No. It’s not that. Let’s zoom out a bit.

Yeah. This is a lake with one giant sinkhole in the middle! It’s about 2,000 feet across and reaches depths of 278 feet, with the surrounding shallows a very pleasant 4 feet deep! I’m mostly including it on the list because the full image hit me like a bus.

2. Sima Humboldt, Venezuela

Tepuis are large plateau mountains found across Venezuela, often with sheer sides and inaccessible tops that inspired explorers to imagine dinosaurs still surviving on these isolated mesas. Even on their own, tepuis are incredible, beautiful and mysterious. Add a sinkhole with an even more isolated forest at the bottom, and you have all the ingredients for some crazy shit to happen. Sima Humboldt and Sima Martel are two enormous sinkholes at the top of Cerro Sarisariñama. Humboldt is the largest at over a thousand feet across and nearly the same in depth, with a jungle flourishing at the bottom. The sinkhole forests are home to many endemic species of both plant and animals, but so far, no prehistoric monsters have been found in any of them.

3. Well of Barhout, Yemen

The “well of hell” is a massive sinkhole in the desert, measuring about 100 feet in diameter and plunging down over 300 feet. Understandably, there are many myths and legends about this place, including a story about an evil djinn which lives at the bottom and takes the head of anyone foolish enough to climb in. In fact, so pervasive are these legends that the sinkhole was only formally explored in 2021! Luckily they did not find any evil spirits, but they did find stalagmites which reached 30 feet tall, cave pearls, and waterfalls which provided refuge for frogs and snakes.

4. Myakka sinkhole, Florida

This murky abyss is filled with more than just water, it is also home to over a hundred alligators. Due to the poor visibility and very high concentration of large carnivores, it is very difficult to study this pit. Only a few people have ever glimpsed the bottom of this 134-foot deep sinkhole, but apparently we aren’t missing much because the water down there is stagnant and inhospitable to most life. Exactly why this area is so popular among alligators is still unknown, but it’s likely due to a combination of food availability and ideal temperatures.

5. The Pit cenote, Mexico

Like Cenote Angelita, The Pit is a layered cenote. The first 88 feet is freshwater, then there is a “fog” of hydrogen sulfide, below which lies over 300 feet of brackish water. The Pit is a spectacular-looking cenote, with an almost otherworldly quality, which makes it very popular among divers. So far, this pit has been explored to a depth of 390 feet, but unexplored passages extend further.

6. Thor’s well, Oregon

Like a drainpipe continuously swallowing an unbroken stream of ocean water, Thor’s well is often likened to a bottomless pit. However, it is actually only about 20 feet deep, and the drain effect is due to the fact that it connects back to the ocean, not swallowing the water but simply rerouting it. This does not mean that there is no danger, though. The rocks are slippery and sharp, and this area sees a higher than average number of ‘sneaker waves’; waves that look normal as they roll in but are actually much larger than they appear, potentially sweeping people out to sea as they retreat. The true danger here is the ocean, not the well.

7. Vouliagmeni Lake, Greece

This incredibly beautiful saltwater lake has been rumored to have healing properties for thousands of years, and today continues to draw in visitors for its medicinal minerals and “doctor fish”. But this famous lake hides a secret; a labyrinth of caves whose depths have never been fully explored, and whose connection to the ocean remains undiscovered. Passages stretch over a mile into the mountains, with an average depth of 260 feet. The largest of these caverns is nearly 500 feet wide and full of warm sea water. Although a spectacular diving spot, these unknown caverns are best not underestimated.

8. Santa Rosa blue hole, New Mexico

A gorgeous natural swimming hole, this cenote is roughly 80 feet wide and 80 feet deep (in most places) and is a popular destination for tourists. It was also used for diving certification tests, until an incident in 1976. There is one spot in this picturesque cenote that goes down much further than 80 feet; the entrance to a cave. In the dark, twisting passages, two young divers got lost and died, and the cave was later sealed with a metal grate to prevent other divers from attempting to enter. The cave was mostly forgotten about until 2013, when cave divers were given permission to attempt to map the area. The blue hole is at least 200 feet deep, but the bottom of the cave still has not been found.

9. Roaring River Spring, Missouri

This turquoise river bubbles up from a ten-foot wide pool of deep water hidden within a sheer-sided canyon. But despite its peaceful appearance, this spring discharges 20 million gallons of water a day, and the exact source is still unknown. In 1979, divers attempted to map the cave, but reached a point 225 feet down where the passage constricted and had a water flow like “the force of an open fire hydrant”, preventing them from going any further. In 2020, divers waited until the water flow was lowest in the summer and descended to a depth of 472 feet with no bottom in sight, making this the deepest spring in the US!

10. Your Mom.

I jest, of course. Here’s the real one:

Hranice Abyss, Czech Republic

A tiny greenish lake in the forest is the opening to the deepest freshwater cave in the world, deeper than the Empire State Building is high and still seemingly bottomless. It is so deep that scientists think it may have been formed by a totally different process than most freshwater caves; instead of water eroding away the ground from above, it may have been created by acidic groundwater coming up from below. And this water is extremely acidic, able to burn a diver’s skin if not covered properly. This, combined with fallen trees and other debris, poor visibility, and the sheer vertical drop of the cave, creates incredibly dangerous conditions for diving. Because of this, no diver or ROV has reached the bottom yet. But with a recent study using seismic sensors, scientists have estimated that the abyss may be over a kilometer deep, twice what was previously thought.