#crossposted from my twitter (same @)

[xlillyle]

SKK relationship reveal but it's because Dazai wants to prank the agency and give Kunikida a stroke by announcing his relationship with one Nakahara Chuuya. Just that... no one is shocked or surprised and says "Oh yeah, we knew. Congrats" and Dazai goes "wdym you knew???"

Dazai, gleefully giggling: Kunikida-kun~ I have to tell you something~ Kunikida, not looking up from his laptop: What is it now Dazai. Dazai, grinning: I thought I should tell you that I'm in a relationship with Nakahara Chuuya, you know, the Port Mafia Executive~ Kunikida, readjusting his glasses and looking up with a serious face: Thank you for trusting me with this information, Dazai. I'm happy for you. Kunikida, looking back to his laptop: ... I already knew though. Now get back to work. Dazai: ?????

Dazai is like "ITS A PRANK!!! HAPPY APRIL FOO- wait NO???? that was NOT HOW THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO GO WE ARENT ACTUALLY DATING" and the ADA goes "uh huh. sure."

[rebeccahlamford]

Fallen down a Good Omens shaped rabbit hole... did you know that on AO3, 3.9% of Good Omens (TV) fan works are tagged under the metatag "asexuality spectrum"? Which may not seem much, but it's 8 times more than the average (0.49%) for the same tag across the top 50 tv fandoms*!

This makes Good Omens the TV fandom with the highest percentage and highest number of works tagged under "asexuality spectrum". Pretty awesome, in my opinion.

*Top 50 TV fandoms based on the largest total number of works (available to registered users)

Data from 26/6/23

[lokh]

i gotta draw anji again or people will start thinking this is a one piece blog

[spencerreidenjoyer]

we've already done it in my head | spencer reid x reader

You have fantasies about Spencer, and you feel bad about it when you have to see him at work. Thing is, he has fantasies about you too.

wc: 4.8k, rating: explicit

tags/warnings: professor!spencer, post prison!spencer, bau!reader, fem!reader, sexual fantasies, masturbation, daddy kink, getting together, hookups, friends with benefits (?), mentions of public sex/exhibitionism (they don't actually do it), fucking with feelings but neither of them really realise it yet lol...

a/n: i am insane and that's all i'll say about this fic. jk i started this at the top of the month and i'm glad i've finally finished it. this was such a crazy one to work on, aside from being swamped with school work. thank you to my lovely friend from twitter vic who kept encouraging me to work on this hehe. inspired heavily by taylor swift's guilty as sin? (obviously) and chappell roan's picture you just for those horny yearning vibes yknow? please enjoy this insanity!!! (crossposted to ao3)

Spencer rushes in from the university when Emily calls. It’s a serious case, one that Emily decides Spencer needs to be pulled away from his teaching for. She doesn’t feel good doing it – the whole team knows how important teaching is to Spencer, but he understands all the same when he comes into the round table room. Spencer sits down at the last empty seat next to you, his hair a mess as he sets down his things and flips open the case file. He turns to smile at you, before Penelope starts the case brief.

It’s a long, tiring day of work after landing in California, the BAU having been called in to investigate the murders of young moms in the area, and you need a glass of wine and a nice hot bath to even fathom everything you’ve seen today.

You should just turn in for the night, the Bureau being particularly kind with their budget as you all get individual rooms. Your drowsiness should put you fast to sleep, but your mind is racing with thoughts of Spencer.

Spencer’s been in his nice suit all day, filling out his shirt nicely. You’ve noticed his stubble growing in, and his hair is messy and gorgeous. You can’t help yourself for feeling this way, as guilty as you feel about it. You’ve been harbouring your crush on Spencer for way too long, in the couple of years since you joined the BAU. Spencer is a sight for sore eyes for sure, but his kind gentleness despite the horrors of what you all do for work is a welcome reprieve. 

While his sweet nature was what had you falling for him in the first place, Spencer could be extremely sexy, even if he didn’t know it. 

Today was especially tough for you. You and Spencer were sent in to interrogate a particularly uncooperative suspect, playing into the good cop-bad cop dynamic. Your coaxing wasn’t doing anything, and Spencer had ended up raising his voice in an attempt to intimidate them. He’d slammed his hand on the table, a loud clang against the metal, and his large figure only served to crowd the suspect in to scare them further.

You only got to know Spencer after the mess that was him getting wrongly sent to prison, but Spencer supposedly wasn’t like this before prison. Still, you found Spencer’s quiet intimidation incredibly attractive, and you had to keep your composure in the interrogation room earlier.

And your mind drifts to Spencer from earlier, his rough callousness with the suspect, his glare wild and intimidatingly sexy, you end up thinking about him.

About Spencer, who is so kind and sweet with you and the rest of the team, seeming like he couldn’t hurt a fly. 

About Spencer who could also be domineering and intimidating. He seems like he’d only pull it out if you asked, but the duality has you hot under the collar. 

Your eyes slip shut, mind swirling with thoughts of Spencer, about having him all to yourself, about him wanting you. 

About his large hands on you, making you feel so small under his firm grasp. 

About him pinning you down on the hard, cool metal of the table in the interrogation room. 

About him caging you in with his arms, the look in his eyes almost crazed and full of lust for you. 

“Spencer,” you gasp, before Spencer kisses you fervently. His stubble is rough against your skin, but you don’t care. Spencer kisses you like he’s a starved man and you’re his next meal, with such desperation that you feel weak in the knees.

“You’re gorgeous,” Spencer says. He kisses your jaw, down your neck, and his large hands are all over your body. You feel so secure in his grasp, he feels you up and drinks his fill of you. He gropes your tits, your thighs, your ass, manhandling you into spreading your legs, so he can press the hardness of his cock to your cunt. “Look what you do to me.”

You whimper, fully indulging in this wet dream as you slide a hand into your underwear. “Spencer,” you gasp.

“You’re so hot, you make me feel crazy,” Spencer hums, rolling his hips against you. You’re separated between layers of fabric, but Spencer humping you like this turns you on to no end. 

You rub at your clit in tight little circles, your wetness aiding the slide as you get yourself off to the thought of Spencer.

“Spence,” you moan, frustrated. While Spencer’s hardness grinding against you is literally a dream, you want to imagine his cock buried inside of you. You’re perfectly capable of moving this along, so you do. 

Magically, Spencer’s clothes are off and so are yours, the perks of a fantasy being that you don’t have to awkwardly stumble through taking your clothes off. You have a hazy picture of what he’d look like naked in front of you. You imagine toned muscle, a slight pudge to his tummy from his time in prison, his pecs filled out nicely. You imagine his cock would be pretty, as pretty as he is, veiny and thick and all sorts of perfect. 

“You’re too fucking good to me, baby,” Spencer groans, the blunt head of his cock pressed up against you now. He rubs off against you, sliding over your clit, your folds, over the wetness leaking from your whole. “Gonna fuck you so good, just like you deserve.”

Without hesitation, Spencer’s cock slips into you, the perfect thickness to make you feel full as he slides in inch by inch. 

You slip your fingers into yourself, aided by how impossibly wet you are just at the thought of Spencer, and your groan weakly. Two fingers aren’t enough, not when you bet Spencer could fill you up, like he’d split you in half on his cock. 

He pushes into you until he’s pressed flush against you, buried inside of you to the hilt. He starts to pound into you, like he’s uncaring of what you need, but the way he treats you turns you on impossibly.

Your fingers aren’t enough to satiate you, but you thrust them in and out of you in an effort to mimic how Spencer fucking you might feel. You moan, a little louder than you’d like.

“Spence–” you gasp, in your fantasy. It should be scandalous, Spencer taking you over the table in the interrogation room. You don’t know if the thought of people being behind the one-way mirror turns you on or not – being watched, letting Spencer take you in front of everybody. You like the thought of Spencer being so obsessed with you, so desperate, needing to fuck you right where you work.

The metal table is cool and harsh against your hips, but you don’t care if it hurts as Spencer fucks you relentlessly, quickly taking on a brutal pace. It’s exactly what you need, what you want Spencer to do with you, being rough and frantic enough to make you scream his name.

You whimper his name under your breath, bashful even while in your fantasy. 

Spencer has you pinned down, but it’s not like you intend to get away. You want to savour this even if it’s only in your mind, shameful as you’re getting off to the thought of your coworker. You just need this out of your system, need Spencer out of your system, and then tomorrow you can face him like a normal, well-adjusted person. 

“Fuck,” you gasp, palm grinding against your clit, fingers pressed inside of yourself. You’re shaking, with the thought of Spencer fucking you until you can’t take it anymore, the ideal of him in your mind too perfect, until you’re moaning into your hand as you orgasm. You sob, clenching tight around your fingers, feeling your slick gush out as you ride your high.

You don’t mean to fall asleep, but after both a long day and a crazy good orgasm, you end up passing out with a tissue clenched in your hand, with your panties and sleep shorts kicked off to the foot of the bed.

---

Spencer can’t stop thinking about you.

He shouldn’t, not when you’re his coworker and also one of the people he’s friendliest with in the unit. 

Spencer would say he couldn’t bring himself to trust many, especially after coming out of prison, but you were the one he warmed up to the easiest. A new face in the BAU wasn’t uncommon, but Spencer had found himself drawn to you. You were kind and warm to him fresh out of prison, your tenderness a welcome reprieve as he’d gotten accustomed to being back at the BAU. With your intellect and quick wit, matched with your beauty, Spencer could not help but be attracted to you – but that’s besides the point. 

Spencer knows how much your friendship with him means to you, and he’s certain that that’s all you see him as: a friend. 

Yet, he can’t stop himself from thinking about you in those pants. Those pants that hug your curves just right. Those pants that make your ass look great – not that he was looking – especially when you’re leaning over an interrogation table, trying to play the good cop with the suspect from earlier.

Spencer had hung back, trying to get a read on the suspect while you spoke to him. Him getting to ogle your figure and stare at how good you looked in those pants was unintentional, but he definitely wasn’t complaining. 

Spencer only felt a bit bad wrapping his hand around himself in the shower, mind flooded with thoughts of you. Water, almost scorching, running down his body, his hand moves fast and reckless, exhaling harshly as he gets himself off. 

He can’t get you out of his mind, your gorgeous figure, your pretty face, your wide eyes and thick thighs and soft lips – he shouldn’t be thinking of you like this. You were a coworker, a friend, for God’s sake, and yet he can’t stop imagining you under him. 

He can’t stop imagining pressing you against the table in the interrogation room – your lithe frame underneath him, making you look so small, making him feel so big. 

He presses his growing problem to your perfect ass, watching you writhe underneath him. You keep looking back up at him, with your wide, wet eyes and your flushed cheeks, looking like you need him to give you exactly what you need.

“Please, daddy,” you whine, and Spencer is groaning and undoing his belt before your pants get pushed down too. Stroking his cock quickly, Spencer easily finds his way to your entrance, wet and dripping with your slick. He pushes into you, pressing kisses to your neck as you groan with the intrusion. 

“Daddy,” you whimper, “Feels so good.”

“Yeah?” Spencer coos at you. Spencer feels you press yourself back up against him, pushing his cock deeper, and he loses all sense of control as he starts to fuck you hard. He feels like a madman, unable to hold himself back as he takes and takes and takes, fucking into your tight wetness, his head spinning with how good you feel around him. 

You’re whining and moaning under him, your noises music to Spencer’s ears as they echo off the walls. Your cunt is wet and sloppy as Spencer fucks you, wanting to give you everything you need and more.

“Fuck, baby,” Spencer groans, his hand tightly fisted around his cock. The way the tip of his cock leaks is easing the slide, as he pictures in crystal-clear detail how your cunt would draw him in, slick and messy be fucks into your perfect, tight cunt. “You’re too good to me.”

“Daddy,” you sob, your hands clawing down Spencer’s back. Spencer gropes you greedily through your clothes, grabs your tits and feels his fill of your waist, your perfect ass, your thighs as he rocks himself back and forth between them. 

“Gonna cum inside of you, love,” Spencer grunts, his pace unrelenting. His hands are on your thighs, gripping you tight, both fucking into you and dragging you onto his cock over and over. “You’re gorgeous. Gonna make a mess of you.”

You’re whining underneath him, making him feel too good, as you clench around him tight and moan even louder. Spencer can’t help himself, thrusting into you hard and fast and eager until he’s cumming.

He spills into his hand, the thick white ropes of his cum washed down the drain with the spray of the shower from above him. Visions of you flash through his mind, your gorgeous frame, your pretty face, your mouth on his. 

He’s barely towelled off before he’s knocked out in his bed, too tired to even process feeling guilty about jerking off to you. 

---

Sure, perhaps it’s childish to try and avoid Spencer all day, especially when you have an active case all of you need to be working on. You must be a fool to think that getting yourself off to Spencer would help, because all you can think about is your fantasies of him last night, how you imagined him bending you over and taking you– Not helping, you remind yourself.

Emily must secretly be on your side or be able to read your mind or something, because Spencer is relegated to work on geographic profiles and speed-read through case files back at the police precinct, while you get sent out onto the field to chase down your killer. 

But you can’t avoid Spencer forever, and you aren’t any good at it either. You feel like Spencer’s eyes are on you the whole day when you and him are in the same room, but you never look up at him to find out. While you could chalk up your nerves to a serial killer still being out on the streets, you don’t have any more excuses at the end of the day when you’ve finally caught him, and the team decides to get dinner to celebrate.

You purposely wedge yourself between JJ and Emily when you sit down at the table, trying to avoid Spencer, and you think you’re successful with getting away with seeming a little out-of-it when you end up slipping away early, claiming you had a rough sleep last night.

You’ve barely settled down in your hotel room for the night, finally feeling like you can relax, when there’s a knock at your door. You have no clue who it could be, but you open the door, and–

There Spencer is. 

“Hi,” you say curtly, feeling embarrassment wash over you all of a sudden, because all you can think about is getting off to the thought of him last night. You feel your cheeks warm, but you hope it’s not obvious that you’re blushing. Then, in an attempt to seem somewhat normal and well-adjusted, you add, “What’s up?”

“I should be asking you that,” Spencer says, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. “What’s up with you today?”

You press your lips together in a thin line before you say, “Nothing’s up. I’m fine.”

“Come on,” Spencer prods, his head cocking to the side as he deadpans. “You know I can read you like an open book. Something’s up.”

You frown, Spencer stoking the flames of brattiness in you. “Yeah? Tell me what’s the matter, if you can read me so well.”

Spencer’s eyes widen slightly. You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.

“I- I thought we said no inter-group profiling,” Spencer says, his voice a little weak, and for the first time, you see Spencer look a little helpless. It’s kind of hot. 

Do you make him… nervous?

“Yeah, but if you insist on thinking something’s up with me…” You shrug, smiling. Spencer just blinks at you.

No. You couldn’t possibly entertain the thought. 

Spencer clears his throat. You watch him fidget with his hands just slightly, before he puts them by his sides to seem confident. “Well, you’ve been avoiding me, on purpose or not – both attest to your desire to avoid me somewhat. You could barely look me in the eye all day, which means you might be embarrassed or guilty of something, likely having to do with me.” Spencer says, his voice even, but he isn’t looking at you. 

You raise your eyebrows. His explanation is both specific and vague, and you feel slightly called out and safe from his scrutiny at the same time. But, you can’t shake off the feeling that there’s something more to Spencer’s words, the way he’s looking at you like he hopes you can’t pick his brain apart. 

So, you turn it back onto him, “Then, what do you think is the problem? You aren’t looking at me either, and you were fidgeting with your hands. Is something up with you, then? It almost sounds like you’re projecting, Dr. Reid.”

Spencer freezes, like he’s a deer caught in headlights. You can practically see his brain running a mile a minute, overthinking every possible outcome, overly self-aware of himself, his actions, his thoughts.

You try to stop yourself from smiling, because Spencer is kind of cute like this. “You wanna tell me what it is then, Reid?” 

“When did this become about me?” Spencer squeaks, his usually cool facade quickly disappearing. There’s a look in Spencer’s eyes, as he nervously looks you up and down, and oh– “I just– Well, I– You–”

“I’m thinking we might be on the same page, here,” you say, smirking. “Wanna tell me what it is?”

Spencer furrows his brows, his mouth agape as he looks up at you, but you’re putting your hand on his chest and trailing it down slowly. “Oh–”

“Tell me, Dr. Reid,” you cock your head, eyeing him up and down lazily. When you look at Spencer’s face, he’s shocked, enamoured and turned-on all in one. 

“You’re… attracted to me,” Spencer says, somewhat uncertain. “The same way I’m attracted to you.”

“And what makes you say that?” You hum. 

“I thought I heard you last night. Through the walls,” He says timidly, nothing you’ve seen from him before. “Thought I should’ve gone over to help, but I realised you were, um– You were pleasuring yourself. To- To me.”

“The walls are thin, huh?” You laugh, a little sheepish, but you note how Spencer’s becoming shy at the thought. “Did you…?”

His eyes grow wide. “Did I do what?”

You smirk. “That tells me everything I need to know, Reid,” you say, laughing.

“Well, you shouldn’t presume–”

“Shut up and kiss me, Reid,” you huff. You pull Spencer closer to you by his tie and you press your lips to his. 

It’s too perfect, when Spencer’s mouth is finally on yours. His hands cupping your face, Spencer kisses you hard and eager, like he can’t believe that he finally gets to have you. He kisses you like he’s starving, desperate for you as his next meal. You moan as his hands reach for your hips, pulling you in closer to him, greedy as he feels you up.

“Did you fantasise about this too? About me, like this?”

“This is better than I could’ve ever imagined,” Spencer says breathily. “You… You’re so attractive.”

“Could say the same about you,” you laugh, reaching to unbutton his shirt. His tie is already loose, hanging around his neck, but you want to see more. You undo the top few buttons, revealing more of his chest. You trail your finger over the exposed skin, letting your nail graze it slightly. You hear Spencer inhale sharply, and grin to yourself, proud of the effect you have on him. “So, do you want to just stand around and talk, or do you want to fuck me?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, and you chuckle. As if he hadn’t expected this was how it was going to go. Spencer purses his lips. “I mean, absolutely. I want to fuck you. But, um– We should definitely talk about this though.”

“Later,” you say, waving him off, before you lean in to kiss him again. Spencer grabs your waist again, like he needs to have you close. He lifts you slightly, making you squeak, but the both of you stumble over to the bed, unable to keep your hands off of each other, unable to keep your mouths off each other. You sit down on the bed, Spencer crowding you in with one of his knees on the mattress.

You loosen his tie and take it off, while Spencer moves to unbutton your shirt. HIs hands move deftly, eager to undress you, and he pulls away to marvel at the curve of your breasts in your bra when he pushes the satin shirt off of you. “Wow.”

“Wow yourself,” you say. You appreciate the view: a dishevelled, eager Spencer Reid in your bed, his hands all over you, his shirt half-undone, revealing tanned skin and a gorgeous body. “Need you to fuck me right now.”

Spencer laughs, perhaps a little incredulously, and he instead moves to take his shirt off instead. “I’ll- I’ll do that.”

“Good,” you say, distracted as you admire Spencer’s frame, the lines of his body, the softness of his stomach. He’s so hot you might die. “Very good.”

“I’m glad you like the view,” Spencer says, a little timid, like he’s shy to show off in front of you. He meets your gaze when you look up at him, caught in the middle of ogling him with no shame. 

You smile up at him sheepishly. “Please fuck me, Spencer.”

“Okay,” Spencer smiles, warm and gentle. He helps you slide your pants and underwear off your legs before you spread them. Spencer’s jaw drops, his eyes focused on the slick mess of your cunt. “Oh, my God.”

“Yeah?” you laugh, thoroughly amused with his reaction. “Show me how much you want me, too.”

Spencer’s hands are quick to push down his bottoms, dress slacks and boxer-briefs on your floor in an instant, wrapping a fist around himself as he works himself up for you. You can’t tear your eyes off of him – “Spencer, you’re… big.”

“Am I?” Spencer asks, and you’d lose your mind if you weren’t expecting Spencer to fuck your brains out. 

“You are,” you say calmly, because if you let yourself sound any more excited he might think you were insane. “But I can take you.”

Spencer grins. “Good.”

His fingers press against your cunt after you tell him to do so. His slender digits pick up all the slick that’s leaking from your hole, spreading it around messily as he toys with your clit. You shudder with the sensation, throwing your head back against the pillows. Then, one of his fingers slips into you, and he coaxes you open with a care you haven’t felt from most partners before. “How’s that?”

“So nice,” you groan, getting used to the feeling. He fucks you on his fingers, slow and careful, intent on stretching you out until you’re comfortable. You whimper and whine, feeling embarrassed at how vocal you’re being, but Spencer is kissing your breasts without a care in the world, and then you’re thinking about letting him know that you do feel good. Your next gasp is less ashamed, as Spencer coaxes a second finger in.

You’re panting as Spencer fucks you on his fingers, the repeated motion only working you up even more. The squelch from his fingers fucking you is obscene, and his eyes are wide as he looks at you. “You’re perfect,” he whispers. 

“Fuck me, Spence,” you say. 

Spencer bites his lip as he sits up and settles between your legs. He’s tugging at his cock as he lines himself up with your entrance. He slides his length along your folds, wet with your slick, and you groan at the friction. You grunt, wanting more, “Come on, Spence.” 

His hand on your leg, Spencer leans forward so he can press into you, and Spencer is practically folding you in half so he can fuck you. You moan at his thickness deep inside of you, filling you up, and the stretch is so undeniably amazing. Spencer’s length drags against your walls, such a delicious sensation deep in your bones, and you sob a little.

“Does that feel good?” Spencer asks softly, his voice tender. 

“So good, Spence,” you gasp. Spencer kisses your cheek, down your neck, and waits patiently for you to give him the go-ahead.

You feel his cock twitching inside of your heat, both your fantasies unable to live up to the real thing. Confident, cocky Spencer in your dreams is just that – a dream. The Spencer right in front of you is perfect, more perfect than what you’ve dreamed: shy but so attentive and sweet. He takes such good care of you. It makes you lose your mind a little bit.

“Fuck me,” you insist, and Spencer puts his hands on your hips as he starts to move. He fucks you deep, just the way you need him, and you cry out as he digs into your soft flesh, holding you tight so he can fuck you hard. The way Spencer pounds into you has your whole body trembling, pleasure coursing through you like electricity, till your mouth has fallen open and your toes are curling. 

“You’re so much better than I imagined,” Spencer groans, eyes squeezed shut as he puts all his energy into railing you. “Can’t believe this is real.”

You clench around him just to hear him moan, and you’re proud of yourself when his hips stutter and a groan rips through his throat in his pleasure. He glares at you. You grin, as Spencer keeps fucking you.

“What- Oh, fuck– What did you imagine? With me?” You gasp, as Spencer rolls his hips in a particularly deep thrust.

Spencer squeezes his eyes shut, before looking down at you, like he’s really contemplating if he should say this. “I– I pictured bending you over the interrogation table. Fucking you, making you scream my name, taking you right there, I–”

You moan as Spencer hits that perfect spot inside of you, your legs trembling as you gasp, “I– Why did we have the same fucking fantasy? Fuck–”

“What? You thought of me that way too?” Spencer sounds incredulous, like he can’t imagine you thinking of him that way– As if he isn’t drilling you into the hotel bed right now.

“Fuck, Spencer– Oh, my God– Yeah, I– You had me pinned down on the table, and you were fucking me in the interrogation room, in front of all of them–”

“God, you’re perfect,” Spencer grunts, burying his head in your shoulder as he uses the leverage to fuck you deeper, harder, faster. You can’t stop moaning Spencer’s name, simply too overwhelmed with the pleasure he’s giving you, the way he’s fucking you into the mattress. This is all you’ve ever wanted. Spencer fucking you like a madman, giving you all the pleasure you need but still being greedy enough to take and take and take. 

“Please! Spencer, you– I’m gonna cum, I can’t–” You cry, sobs wracking their way from your throat, so loud but you can’t be bothered to keep yourself quiet. Spencer groans your name, a sweet, sultry sound, and you feel like you’re going to lose your mind. 

“Cum for me,” Spencer hums. “You’re so perfect, and you’re laid out like this all for me. You’re so fucking hot. Show me how good I make you feel.”

You’re sobbing as your orgasm hits you, overwhelmed by Spencer’s filthy words and his filthier actions, so intense as he fucks you into next week. It’s too good, and you lose yourself much sooner than you expect. Your pussy clenches tight around Spencer with your orgasm, sending him over the edge as he fills you up, cock twitching as he cums inside of you.

He collapses on top of you, his weight comfortable as you both catch your breath. Your mouth feels dry, but you don’t care when Spencer is leaning over to kiss you again. It feels so right, this wild feeling you only thought existed in your dreams.

The next morning when the team is gathered in the hotel lobby to head to the hangar to fly back to Quantico, Emily gives you a pointed look, and Rossi is clapping Spencer on the back with a knowing grin. You apologise sheepishly, while Spencer grows red, avoiding eye contact with the rest of the team. He only meets your eyes, and the two of you share a smile. You can tell neither of you want this to end here. Maybe you’ll talk about it when you get back home. 

[aislinceivun]

*dusts off account* *coughs*

My tumblr is pretty much defunct but I'm crossposting this one per request~

Art for part #6 of my absolute favorite StaticRadio fic series, 666: Live On Air! written by the amazing @prince-liest

Every new installment keeps destroying AND energizing me, but the hurt/comfort of this latest update fed me ESPECIALLY well😩💞

If you aren't doing it yet and you love the ship, GO READ 666!! It's droolworthy! It's emotional! It's kinky! It'll make you laugh one sec, rip your heart out the next! No excuses, you must give it a try at least!!

PS: If you're interested in more StaticRadio (or StaticDust) (or StaticRadioDust, perchance? >:3) art & threads from me, find me on twitter here!♥ (adults only) PPS: This one is not a 666 fanart but I might as well plug it: I actually had the same galaxy brain idea as Prince and drew Vox manually keeping Al's heart beating post-Adam😈 (The way I gasped when this happened in 666 too!😩👏) Mild gore cw, but if you're curious, it's here.

[starrystevie]

18+ | cw: improper use of plumping lipgloss, mentions of alcohol, oral sex, it's steddie endgame i promise | crossposted on twitter

it’s no secret, steve likes making out. likes isn’t a strong enough word. he loves making out. loves grabbing hold of someone and pulling them close, loves laying over them on a couch, on a bed, hips just barely moving as he takes them apart with lips and teeth and tongue.

that doesn’t change once he’s had a few drinks either, body tingling with tequila or vodka or something equally strong that has his inhibitions thrown to the wind. he’s always able to find someone willing to dance with him, hips pressed together and arms wrapped around shoulders.

it’s usually girls, pretty things with pretty hair that draw steve in like a punch drunk happy moth to an overzealous flame. they’ll turn their heads with a flirty shy smile and follow him out to the dance floor before pressing up tight against his front.

they’ll curl their fingers into his where they rest low on their hips and keep him close. they’ll drop their heads onto his shoulder and let their breath ghost over the side of his face until he gets the all too obvious hint.

steve likes making out on a dance floor. no, not likes.

loves.

that is until his lips are covered in sticky, sweet lip gloss and he’s pulling away because his tongue is on fire, tingling from something other than alcohol and the thrill of being in a pretty girl’s mouth.

“what is that?” he yells into her ear over the bumping bass.

“sorry,” the girl says sheepishly, “it’s my lipgloss. it plumps my lips.”

she goes back in to kiss steve once more and he isn’t exactly going to deny her. her lips are pretty just like her, plump and shiny and all too inviting, so he kisses her back. the gloss is spicy on the cracks of his lips, on the tip of his tongue when he he pulls her lip in between his teeth. it’s addictive in a way. he wonders if his own lips will plump up from the contact alone.

later, when they say their drawn out goodbyes outside of the club, he’ll ask to borrow the lip gloss since his night isn’t over yet. she’ll pull it out with a grin and apply it so sweetly to her own lips and then to his. her touch is gentle and precise before she puts the tube back in her purse and then connects their lips for a final time.

steve likes to make out. no, not likes.

loves.

so he goes to a bar around the corner, robin hot on his coat tails with some blonde she picked up attached to her side, and he’ll order a vodka soda that he can sip through a straw so he doesn’t destroy his pretty glossed lips. the bar is grungy, but steve almost prefers that, able to blend into smoky shadows and dark corners while he watches the crowd.

while he watches someone in the crowd watch him back.

he has wild curly hair and handcuffs on his belt and steve swears he’s staring at his lips and the way the light is bouncing off of the gloss, but he isn’t too sure. not until there’s wild curly hair and handcuffs on a belt standing right in front of him.

steve has a different confidence with guys. maybe it’s because he has to read them a little differently. maybe its because he gets read by them a little differently, too. but flirting is flirting all the same and steve finds himself biting at his lip and licking away some of the spicy lip gloss with a wince as it burns the inside of his mouth.

curly hair handcuff guy is cuter once they start talking for a while, all animated and vibrant, a bright shiny beacon in a dingy bar. he finds out his name is eddie with a lingering handshake that means something, fingers trailing and tingling like they had a spice to them, too.

they don’t dance, but they do end up out back, sharing a cigarette as drunk people stumble around them. it’s easy enough for eddie to light, flame from the lighter sparking in his big, brown eyes.

“so steve,” he says, flicker of some other kind of spark in his eye, “where to?”

and steve knows how to do this part. he grabs the cigarette out of eddie’s mouth and puffs on it himself, blowing the smoke over his head. “is it too forward to say i don’t think i can last much longer without getting my mouth on you?”

eddie grins and lets his eyes flit down. “no. is it too forward for me to say that i’d let you do anything to me, mouth or otherwise?”

he takes the cigarette back and steve can see his trace left behind on the filter, can see when the hint of gloss hits eddie’s lips if the wrinkle of his eyebrows is anything to go off of.

he doesn’t say anything, just winks over at steve. he doesn’t say anything, just drags him into a taxi. he doesn’t say anything, just wraps a hand high over steve’s thigh, just pushes steve up against his apartment wall, just fumbles over handcuffs and pushes down his jeans.

steve likes making out. no, not likes.

loves.

if he loves making out, then he really fucking craves giving head. he feels like a cartoon animal with hearts popping out of his head as he pulls eddie’s cock out of his briefs. he licks his lips like he’s starving and regrets it when the gloss singes his tongue.

steve looks up from his knees and swipes a finger over his lips, holding it up high for eddie to see. “taste it,” he whispers.

eddie’s eyes widen, but he obediently bends his neck, tongue lolling out so he can lap at steve’s finger. “your lip gloss is spicy,” eddie says flatly as he recoils.

steve nods. “and it’s going on your cock unless you say otherwise.”

which is how steve finds himself turning eddie into a writhing mess. his hands hold onto the backs of eddie’s shaking knees as he works over his cock. his hair stings as eddie tugs on the strands. his eyes water as he sucks him in deeper and deeper into his throat, spicy lipgloss tingly on his tongue and cheeks.

“you are a fucking wonder,” eddie whines, hips humping as he grinds himself further into steve’s mouth. “just fucking made for this, huh?”

steve pulls off and spits on his cock to jack his hand over it as he pulls the head to his lips. he rubs the sensitive tip over his lips just to watch eddie twitch.

“you have no idea.”

he blows a line of cool air over the gloss that’s left there and drinks in the way eddie’s eyes roll back in his head before swallowing him back down, reveling in the spice that hits the back of his throat as he does so.

when eddie comes, he pulls steve off so he can paint his pretty, puffy, plump lips with it, dragging his cock over them to make a mess. it’s not a surprise when steve licks it off, spicy and salty and a special kind of sweet that he thinks is all eddie. he leans up to place a kiss into the thatch of hair over eddie’s cock, smearing behind come and shiny lip gloss.

“you gonna wait for me to come in my pants or can i go fuck you?”

steve likes making out. no, not likes.

loves.

and he loves giving eddie head. and he loves fucking eddie. and he loves waking up with a spicy, sticky residue on the side of his cheek after falling asleep with his head on eddie’s chest.

and maybe, just maybe, he’ll love eddie someday, too.

[daddykinkkinard]

! crossposting from my twitter !

bucktommy costume analysis 👔

hi ! i'm a fashion student and am really interested in costume design so i wanted to do a (long) post on tommy's style and how i think buck might be influenced by it in s8 as seen in "buck's britches." :))

[about tommy]

tommy's wardrobe is entirely functional and indicative of his dedication to his work. it's practical, useful, and speaks of his can-do attitude.

all his signature clothes (henleys, shackets, canvas jackets) have historical traces to being used as workwear.

(1) henleys - this one, ironically in the philippines it has its own term in our local language. it's called a camisa de chino and is used by laborers. although i live in a different country, i'm sure its use case is still the same for other countries as it's historically deemed the workman's undergarment.

also: yes. tommy is technically right. there were henleys in the 80s. even in the 1880s. so what we're learning here now folks, is that he's a smartass little shit.

(2) shackets - historically, also an item used by the working class. they were mostly worn to prevent any possible stains on inner clothes from their work (i.e. dirt, grease, grime, etc.)

(3) canvas jacket - although this was only seen in 7x04, it's more likely that he still owns a lot more. (waxed) canvas jackets are traditional workwear often used as weatherproof outerwear or heavy duty rainwear.

as a form of fun speculation, i'd like to think some of these items are also in his closet:

contrast collar canvas jacket

an authentic flight jacket

overalls, but only for when he fixes up the car

denim trucker jacket

if anything, who better to listen to when talking about tommy's clothes than tommy himself !

here's lou's cameo for me describing tommy's closet as rugged, practical and useful :))

[about "buck's britches"]

now to the "buck's britches" post. two notable items of clothing:

the famous flight jacket

baker pants.

now here's the thing about buck:

buck doesn't wear utilitarian clothing. in fact, he doesn't wear woven clothing all that much. he wears knit. knit polos. sweaters. hoodies. he is not a workwear person. in fact: he's a comfort person.

that's his primary reason for style that's a testament to his own character. buck is widely recognized as the more radiant and funny character. he has charisma and is very inviting, which is accompanied by his choice in clothing.

soft, warm, comfortable.

which goes back to the photo ostark posted on his instagram story.

(1) flight jacket - here's where i have to go and burst everyone's bubble for a bit. this is only a flight jacket because it's labelled as such. but categorically, it isn't. flight jackets are the classic term for bomber jackets.

bomber jackets (and flight jackets) were workwear used by the military, characterized by garterized cuffs and hems and short bodices. for pilots, they were interchangeable. but modernly, they have some more definable features.

characteristically, flight (or aviator) jackets are leather with shearling or sherpa collars. bomber jackets are the modernized version taking the silhouette and cuff designs and making them more accessible through material choice (linen—like buck—nylon, silk)

(2) baker pants - as the name suggests, it's a piece of kitchen workwear often in twill (which i'd assume is what oliver is wearing), denim, cotton or linen. it's characterized by the topstitching to outline the pockets and diagonal pocket openings (vs. the usual curve).

so very evidently: buck has been influenced by tommy's style. he's wearing woven material versus knit for one. if i were hopeful, i'd say they're exploring one another's style because they're sharing a closet.

[character analysis]

woven fabric as a material is sturdy. it's more structured and does not stretch. think: cotton, linen, rayon, wool, denim. what this means for buck is that, by virtue of being tommy's boyfriend he is introduced to structure, groundedness and maturity.

tommy's closet is filled with utilitarian clothing and workwear. he, as a character, is known to be emotionally grounded and mature and it translates to his clothing.

buck adapting the defining features of his wardrobe shows how much tommy has helped him get off his hamster wheel.

in fact, even the inverse can be noted. when buck asks for a second chance and practices communication towards tommy. he's wearing a woven buttondown. and in emphasizing tommy's desire to make buck comfortable, he's in a hoodie. neither of which are common for one another.

buck and tommy, even through subtle clothing choices are becoming part of one another's world and that makes me so soft as someone whose love language is fashion.

[wishful thinking]

perhaps maybe we could see tommy in a fully casual sweat set? i know that they might be protecting lfjr but man. if i see a hoodie on him. (nqueso, if you can sneak me a photo of him in knitwear ill love you forever i just want to prove my theory right i wont even post it)

if they are putting buck in this sort of attire, my guess (or hope) is that they have tommy ease up too.

it would be nice to show buck's effect on tommy as much as tommy's effect on buck because tommy's an established character and has a backstory that the writers could explore.

so if the 9-1-1 costume designers ever see this:

please put tommy in a sweat set. or a hoodie. (not a zip-up one, im talking real hoodie). i'm willing to compromise with overalls. i see what you're doing with buck's wardrobe, and love it. maybe tommy's could soften up too :))

thanks for reading ! 🫶

[cool-island-songs]

Mizisua & Ivantill Photocards

[crosspost from twitter; pics were from Mercari originally so no link.. evil prices smh]

Really is remarkable that Mizisua's cards look like a perfectly normal romance if you ignore the crack in Sua's neck that she tries to conceal (just as she knew one of them would have to die and kept that reality from the far more innocent Mizi), Mizi's tears, and her breaking apart.

Then Ivantill look deathly ill, eyes rolling back, Till stripped of color and blood while Ivan is full of it. Ivan tries to hold himself together and Till clutches his head as if in pain. My first thought is the mental unwellness of Urak's charges. It's mentioned that they always go far in Alien Stage, but have never won due to instability from his abuse.

Many have already pointed out that the crack in Till's face is in the same spot where Ivan once touched his cut, but he doesn't just touch it—he licks it up. Unable to connect to him normally, Ivan consumes him, wishes to be consumed by him in return, but he never divulges his true feelings to till, not 'til the very end. Here, he's bottled it all up to the point of bursting. He has to focus all his remaining energy on holding himself in one piece while Till is fully drained, left empty, pallid like a porcelain doll.

Both left-behind parties are crying with their faces cracked, visibly broken by their loss. The deceased parties sweat and try to keep it together but it's only a matter of time. Their fates are already sealed.

Genuinely love these cards so much, the love and the pain and the failures to communicate in both dynamics on full display. I want a set badly and am wondering if they'll drop the merch online after R7 for hype purposes, though it seemed like the NYCC thing was last minute and merch stock was limited so it may be difficult to get.

[theterrorfebruaryflash]

Happening now: The Terror February Flash 2025!

The Terror February Flash is an annual fest celebrating our cold boys via fic, art, vids, and other forms of fannish expression.

Why February? Because Something Something Valentine's Day. Why Flash? Because this is a low-pressure, almost-anything-goes prompt meme with a short creation period.

This is mostly a P!atC Server Event, where we will rejoice and squee about each work coming in during February, but anyone with an AO3 account can participate. We'll also post a masterlist to Tumblr at the end of the event.

Schedule for 2025:

Sign-ups and prompt posts: Jan 28 - Feb 6 Prompt claims and creation period: Feb 6 - Feb 28 Works can be posted to the collection any time during the creation period.

Prompts and fills can be posted anonymously if desired.

FAQ

Is this a fic exchange?

No. February Flash is a prompt meme, that means participants will not get matched one-on-one and assigned to a gift recipient as is the case in exchanges. So no one is guaranteed a "gift", but there's also much less pressure on participants. Members sign up and post prompts until the defined deadline (see the schedule). Prompts can be claimed by anyone who has an account on the AO3, and the resulting fanworks need to be posted to the collection any time during the creation phase according to schedule. If you need more detailed information on how a prompt meme works (e.g. how to edit your prompts, where to find your claimed prompts etc), please see this section in the AO3 FAQ.

Do I need to be signed up to claim & fill a prompt? What if I missed the sign-up phase?

Admittedly, the term "sign-up" is a tiny bit misleading. The "sign-up" form is for submitting your prompts; if you would like to claim & fill prompts without submitting a prompt yourself, then you do not need to go through the "sign-up" form. Just browse the list of prompts other fans submitted and use the "claim" button to pick whatever tickles your muse. When you claim a prompt it shows up under "My claims" on the collection profile and under "Claims" on your own dashboard. Use the "fulfil" button to post your work, please.

Is this an anonymous event? Will there be author reveals at any point?

Prompt submission happens anonymously by default; you can override this if you want. By default all works submitted to the collection will be anonymous. There won't be a big creator reveal at the end of the fest, but creators can choose individually whether they want a specific work to stay anonymous or not by letting the mod know.

Can I crosspost my fic/art/vid/etc. to Tumblr/Bluesky/Twitter?

Certainly, if you don't mind deanoning yourself! You can crosspost anywhere you want to (use the tag #theterrorfebruaryflash or ping @theterrorfebruaryflash on Tumblr), but in order for the work to be part of the collection, you need to also post it on the AO3 via the claim/fill button. Don't just link to your art, please, but embed it in the work page.

Rules

1. February Flash is an event for adults as some prompts or fanworks might be mature or explicit. By taking part you confirm that you are 18 or older.

2. The focus of your work must be on the show The Terror, season 1. AUs, RPF, and crossovers with other fandoms are allowed.

3. All ratings are welcome in this fest. Don't shy away from explicit stuff; prompt memes have a history of PWP works. However, when you fill a prompt please stick to the preferred rating of the prompter (if stated in the prompt).

4. All genres welcome, including darker subjects if the prompter asks for them (as long as DNWs are respected). Use the AO3 warnings if applicable.

5. All categories (slash, gen, femslash, multi, QPR etc.) and pairings welcome!

6. Prompts can be filled by more than one person. You can even fill the same prompt multiple times – the "fulfil" button will show up on the prompt you claimed even if you have already used it for posting a work before.

7. Participants can fill as many prompts as they want to. You can even fill your own prompt.

8. Please list your DNWs (Do-Not-Wants) in the prompt if you want to avoid certain types of content, e.g. rape or permanent character death or specific tropes. When you submit several prompts, please state your DNWs for each. We kindly ask you to not abuse the DNW system: keep it short and simple, and don't box in your creator. You cannot DNW a type of fanwork (e.g. art, podfic etc.) unless there is an honest reason for this (e.g. if vids make you dizzy or you cannot enjoy visual art due to medical restrictions, then it is of course important to mention this). When you fill a prompt, please respect the DNWs listed in the request.

9. All types of fanworks are welcome in this fest: fic, poetry, filks, art, vids, podfic, 3D-crafts, textile art etc. Embed your image/video/audio on the work page. Made a giant cake in the shape of the tuunbaq? Post the photos. Even if a prompt is phrased for fic, it can still be used as inspiration for all kinds of fanworks. The spirit of this fest is: pretty much anything goes as long as you respect the prompter's maximum rating, the chosen pairing(s) (if any), and the DNWs. A prompt is not a commission – artistic license is very welcome here, and our creators are encouraged to use the details given in the prompts as inspiration, not as a list of requirements.

10. Minimum word count for written fanworks is 100 words, with the exception of poetry (no minimum word count for poems). There is no maximum word count. Minimum for art: a doodle or clean sketch (on unlined paper, if you use traditional media); manips are permitted. No banner or icon art, please, unless it accompanies a work of fiction. Absolutely no AI-generated art or fic or vids allowed!!

11. Fanworks in languages other than English are allowed. As this is not a one-on-one gift exchange, but a prompt fest, fanworks in languages other than English are absolutely permitted and welcome! Each prompt can inspire a wide variety of fanworks, and as long as you respect the DNWs and the maximum rating of the chosen prompt, it’s all fine!

12. Works posted to the collection must be new (created for this fest and unpublished) and complete. No WIPs or placeholder uploads! If you post a work with more than one chapter, it must be completed before the end of March 2025. Podfics of older and published works are allowed, as the podfic itself counts as new work.

13. Last but not least: Be courteous to the other participants, act in good faith and assume good faith. For all questions, please contact the mod (here via Ask, or see the email address on the AO3 collection profile). We are happy to help!

[valeriehalla]

I don’t know what to do about the internet. It’s getting worse, and getting worse faster than I think any of us ever could have imagined even just six years ago. Tumblr shot itself in the heart at the behest of Apple, at the behest of whichever nameless evangelical finance perverts are in charge of credit card policy, whereupon people like me (artists and people who like art) fled in droves to Twitter, the present state of which I don’t have it in me to be funny about.

Even after that one-two punch, Twitter and Tumblr are still the only (major) social media platforms I can stand to use. I mean, they’re the last ones left where you can, for example, see posts that your friends have made. I might have said that that seemed like the whole point of social media; every digital elsewhere has now collectively agreed that it is, in fact, social media’s greatest flaw. Your friends like to hang out and post weird jokes and titty drawings — they don’t know the first thing about your favorite marketing trends, let alone your unslakable thirst for 30-second phone videos. We have to move on: I’ll die if I think about it.

Uh — I wanna let you in a little. Here’s where I’m at, okay? I’m working on this project. I like it a lot: it’s a writing thing and an art thing and a music thing all at the same time. I’m still struggling with art burnout, but every day I get to sit down and write or compose for this thing is an unending delight, so on the balance it’s been great to work on. It’s taken me a while to get here, though — I’ve blown past all my estimates about when it’d be done. Still, it won’t be much longer.

In the mean time, I keep having these compulsive worries. I feel that I should be posting, but the nature of a long-form project like this is that I don’t have anything to post. I tweet complete nothings now and then, as if to announce my presence, like a lighthouse pulsing in the distance. And every week the websites get worse. They’re bleeding out, and it feels like some of my blood’s in there, maybe. Like, maybe you’d call me naïve, but it wasn’t that long ago that I really, really liked all this online stuff. I never had the hustle culture mindset about it: by good luck alone I managed to make a living posting the stuff I wanted to post on the places I wanted to post it.

The places I liked to post don’t exist anymore. My experience of using the internet feels hostile, alien. The ground beneath all our feet feels eggshell-thin.

But I have to use the internet: it’s where my stuff goes. It’s where all of you are. Here is where art and artists and art-likers live.

The things I love live here, in precarity, as the saw blades and lava traps of our digital dungeon grow every day more numerous.

Anyway, what I’m saying is that the web sucks now, but as long as we’re here — and we will be here — I want to try loving it again anyway. I want to untangle myself from all this disappointment and expectation and try simply “vibing” again. I wanna use cohost more: I’ll even crosspost stuff to Tumblr like I keep saying I should. I’m making a cool thing and I should show it off! I should relearn how to draw a little doodle and post it without feeling like it’s a suboptimal use of my time or whatever!! I want to believe in what joy may find us, though our world be a dumpster.

[lesbianralzarek]

tumblr in reddit terms

blogs: personal subreddits where the theme/topic is 99% of the time just “me and whatever the hell i feel like at the moment”. for reference, the most common other theme rn is “wizard roleplay that never breaks character”

reblogs: crossposts. these are crucial to maintaining tumblr’s ecosystem. due to blogs generally having fewer followers than subreddits have subscribers, this is the way that posts get seen and passed around. the vast majority of posts on a person’s blog tend to be reblogs, so if the people you follow dont reblog a whole lot, your dashboard is gonna be a ghost town. post limit (combined total of reblogs and original posts per day) is 250, so feel free to go hog wild

tags: this one is complicated. theyre a combination of flairs and Comments But Low-key. you can use them for organization and to avoid seeing content you dont want to (go to your blog, settings, account settings, content you see, and then add tags you want tumblr to warn you about before seeing it). if op tags the post #reddit (in the tags, not the body of the post), itll show up in the #reddit tag when anyone searches that tag. tags are also used for comments that dont really add anything to the post. you know how a jpeg gets kinda gross when its been through a million screenshots and has ifunny watermarks and shit? thats what adding “lmao same” as a comment does to a post. comments stay on reblogs, while tags show up in 4 places: op’s notifications, the notifs of whoever you reblogged it from, when someone clicks on the “notes” button of a post and actively looks for the tags left on it, and when people view your specific reblog of the post (like a follower would on their dashboard)

likes: upvotes but weaker. almost everyone turns off all the algorithms (settings, account settings, dashboard preferences, toggle off the first 3 options. also, make sure your dashboard is on "following" and not "for you". this is highly recommended), so leaving a like doesnt boost the post in any way. they still matter to some people. you can also use them to bookmark a post and go back to your likes later

enthusiastic and/or hyperbolic tags: reddit gold. you wanna let op know you like their art? leave something like ”#printing this out and stapling it to my forehead #op you wanna get married?” in the tags

pornbots: both reddit and tumblr have an issue with them. we block and report them on sight. they usually have hot women as their icons, no posts or reblogs, and a description like “22, brazil, nurse <3″. try to not look like that if you dont wanna get blocked by everyone you follow

blocking: you have this as well, but it seems like a bigger deal on reddit. the reason we are not twitter is because we block bitches who annoy us and move on with our day. do not feed the trolls

things we dont have:

karma: clout-chasing is The Most embarrassing thing you can possibly do on this site. we are all in this circus together and the clown who gets the most laughs is still a clown. popular users will literally deactivate sometimes because clout is a burden. no one here makes money

[kenjakusbrainstem]

Stuck (Mahito x Reader)

Contains: Rape, stuck in a wall, piv sex, body horror, multiple limbs.

Yo long time no see Mahito x reader fans, I admit sometimes I get far too excited to write him with Kenjaku I forget that he needs his own spotlight sometimes too. Going through some weird things irl as well so it was nice to be able to let out some of my feelings with this one, hopefully its enjoyable! Crossposted to Ao3 under the same name and shared to twitter at kenjakusbrain! Comment or rb if you like or have any thoughts <3

You regretted the split second detour as soon as you made it to the end of the dark alleyway. It was late and you didn’t normally take this way home, how were you supposed to know the alley was a dead end? A large man had been following you ever since you left the movie theater. You’d been foolish enough to try and tell him to leave you alone, which had only egged him on further. 

In an attempt to get away, you ducked into an alley. Quickly running to the end of it, before you realized it was a brick wall. It was far too tall for you to climb, especially with nothing to stand on, but you could see some light shining through from a hole about waist height. It was definitely too small to fit through, but as you heard heavy footsteps in the darkness behind you, you pushed away those thoughts.

Forcing your arm and head through the hole, you violently clawed at anything on the other side for leverage. Hand finding what you imagined to be a dumpster handle, you forced your other arm through, ignoring a crack in your shoulder. You could deal with a dislocated shoulder later.

Pain rushed through your body but it was drowned out by the adrenaline. You continued to force your body through the tight hole. Only pausing when you heard the man behind you begin to speak, words almost unintelligible, but it definitely sounded like he was arguing with someone. Perhaps someone was around to save you after all. Regardless, you still wanted to get out.

Half of you had made it through, your arms and head on one side, hips and legs on the other. Not much further to go, you thought as you attempted to get your hips to fit. 

They wouldn’t budge. 

Frantically you tried to force your way through, clawing and kicking to move your body forward, but nothing seemed to work.

The sound of flesh hitting pavement pulled your attention from trying to free yourself. A soft giggle sounded behind you, definitely not from the man who’d been pursuing you. Had you been saved?

“Hello?” You called out, unsure if you would even receive an answer.

The only response you received was a hand resting on the small of your back. Even though the gesture was not violent, it still startled you. You kicked back reflexively, but before your foot made contact with anyone, it was caught. The feeling of your leg being lifted into the air made you panic further, you could feel the material of your skirt bunching up around your hips.

“Why are you trying to go through the wall? Is that some silly human game?” A soft voice asked from behind you. He wasn’t quiet, but the intonation of the questions sounded curious, like a child asking why about some mundane thing they just didn’t understand yet.

You tried to get control of your leg back, but you could feel the hands wrapped around your ankle were strong. It didn’t make sense to you that this person could have dispatched the man that was following you and still be confused about why you were stuck like this. And what did he mean by ‘human’?

“That person was chasing me, he isn’t still there is he? It sounded like he got knocked out. I’m stuck now. Can you please help me out?” Your words ran together as you frantically tried to explain and ask questions at the same time. It should have been obvious that you were trying to escape. 

Another soft laugh echoed off the walls around you. It made your skin crawl, something had seemed off ever since you started interacting with this mystery person, even if they did save you, there was something definitely wrong with this.

“The big man? Oh you don’t need to worry about him at all, he’s in my pocket now and can’t hurt you. I could get you unstuck really easily, but it might make you sweat more than it sounds like you already are,” The man said, his words only making the situation more confusing. Nothing that he said reassured you at all, neither did the second set of hands picking up your other leg.

Even if you had been talking to only one person, the hands on your other leg made your guts twist with anxiety. Maybe you hit your head and all of this was a strange nightmare that your mind had cooked up?

You opened your mouth to ask a question, but the words were cut off by a scream as your legs were spread fully, exposing you to the person, or people, behind you. 

Before you even had the chance to beg for help or call out to maybe urge someone closer, you felt the wall you were stuck in tremble as if it had been struck by something heavy. Much to your surprise, a hand came from behind you, wrapping around your lips. 

You could make out enough of the arm in the dark to know that it was freakishly long, even ignoring the fact that it had come through the wall. The fact that you could see the elbow in front of you made your mind hazy, no wonder the thing had referred to you as a human, because he couldn’t be! Even if the fingers felt human and the skin looked normal, it had to be twice the length of a human arm or more, not to mention the strange stitch like markings covering the skin. 

“Geto said I need to get better at working with humans so he can try making more cursed womb paintings and you’re in the perfect position to practice. I hope you don’t mind that I want to get some practice alone, he says I’m usually too sensitive and finish too quickly,” The man, monster, whatever was behind you said. None of the words made sense to you other than being in a position to practice. 

This is what you had been trying to escape in fitting yourself in this hole, and yet you’d only gotten yourself into an even worse situation. Maybe if you were lucky the person would put you out of your misery after. 

Now that you were sure that it was just one person behind you, the feeling of another hand reaching out to rip your panties off of you was more frightening. There were far too many hands involved for this to be anything other than a monster. 

“Wow! You’re already so slick down here! Geto said humans only get like this when they’re excited, so maybe you like this more than it seems!” His excited words made you cringe internally. You mentally cursed whoever this ‘Geto’ he was referring to was.

The fingers that had ripped your panties now slid between your soaked folds easily. You didn’t know why you were so wet but you hated yourself for it. The tips of his fingers stroking against your clit made a spike of pleasure cut through the fear and anxiety filling you. 

He didn’t waste time teasing you for long, though. The fingers traced up, slipping around your entrance for just a second before they were replaced by the blunt head of the man’s cock. You squirmed in an attempt to get away, but you already knew the movement would do nothing for you. 

It didn’t hurt as much as you anticipated when he pressed himself into you. His size must have been below average as it barely felt like he was sticking two fingers inside. A dark moment of reprieve filled you, it could always be worse, you thought. The ache in your thighs hurt more than the stretch in your pussy as he started to slowly thrust.

Relief only lasted for a moment however, as you suddenly felt something else inside of you. It was as if with each thrust inside of you his cock grew in size. Different than if he were just getting harder. Somehow it was as if he could change his shape at will, the stretch that hadn’t bothered you before was now burning as he pressed his large, throbbing cock inside you.

Suddenly, you could feel everything, every vein on his cock filling you up so completely that you thought you’d burst. Another scream threatened to escape, but the hand on your lips kept any sound from getting out. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as his thrusting continued. 

You could barely make out the sound of whiny moaning through the wall. It seemed like you weren’t the only one that was feeling more than they had expected from this. The hands on each of your legs were squeezing tighter with every thrust, your feet had started to feel almost numb. You could only hope the numb feeling would spread.

The monster’s thrusts were hard to anticipate, it was like he was moving on instinct without any rhythm or method to the way he fucked into you. It was hard to anticipate when the next thrust would come as his hips changed pace constantly. One thrust was hard and deep, the next shallow and slow. 

It was clear he was chasing only his pleasure. 

Tears slid down your cheeks as he continued fucking you, you hated how good it felt when the thrusts weren’t too hard. Being so full did hurt, but whenever the thrusts slowed down it almost felt perfect. The slow drag of his thick cock, if this were any other situation, you were sure that you would be screaming in pleasure instead.

It wasn’t long before his thrusts became even more inconsistent, as if he were losing control. His whining moans sounded even more desperate. Only a few more deep thrusts before he pressed himself all the way into you, filling you to the brim before releasing deep inside of you. 

You were stuffed so full you could feel each spurt of his cum inside you, and even feel it leaking out of your body around his cock.

He pulled out quickly, dropping your legs as he moved. The hand that covered your mouth patted your cheek before being pulled back through the hole. Before you could even think to say anything, you heard a noise from above you. Craning your neck you watched a normal looking man jump down in front of you.

As he turned to face you, you noted the stitches on his face matching the ones on the strange arm that had held your mouth closed. Only, he looked normal, his arms were proportionate, everything about him was like that of a normal human, including the two arms with only two hands despite how many hands you had felt.

The stress of the night had finally become too much for you, as he leaned in to say something, you felt your consciousness leave you.

[thatapostateboy]

when my time comes around

Pairing: Rook x Davrin

Word Count: 1773

Synopsis: Rook learns what needs to happen in order for an Archdemon to be slain

Prompt: Day Ten: Rituals from the Veilbound challenge by @/nympthi and @/citadrells on Twitter

Warnings: discussions of death and pregnancy

Crossposted: Here on AO3

Davrin had been quiet around her, ever since they had started making preparations for their final stand against the Evanuris. She had figured it stress at first, fear of what would await them on the battlefield. But finally, he had come to her and had told her exactly what it was that was on his mind.

“When it comes to an Archdemon, only a Warden can kill something so blighted… and none survive the killing blow.”

She stared at him for a few moments, fully taking it what he was saying, “No.”

“Eva-” he sighed, but she cut him off.

“I said no.”

“This isn’t something you can say no to,” he stood from where they had been sitting together in front of his fireplace, “The rest of the Warden forces will be needed to hold back the hordes of ‘spawn. I will be the one who can get closest to the Archdemon… It is the duty of a Grey Warden to end the Blight, no matter the cost.”

She got to her feet to try and meet his gaze, despite the height difference, “What about Tabris?”

“What about Tabris?”

“She survived,” she pointed out.

He folded his arms across his chest, “The reports from that day are hazy at best. She may be praised as the slayer of the Archdemon, but there is no possible way that she could have made the killing blow. It must have been Riordan.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Neither do you,” his tone turned hard, glancing into the fire for a few moments before he let out a drawn-out sigh, “Eva, you need to accept this.”

“I won’t.”

“You must,” he looked back to her, taking hold of her hands, “What is the cost of one life compared to the horrors that we face?”

“Not when it is your life. You would not stand by and let me do the same.”

“I know,” he said quietly, “And I am sorry to put you through this.”

“Then don’t. Let someone else do it.”

“Eva…”

“I don’t care,” she harshly sniffed back against her tears, letting out a hard, harsh laugh, “I made my peace with the shortened lifespan, and the fact that we wouldn’t be able to have kids, because we could build a life after this was over, make the most of the years we had left… and now you’re telling me that that time will be less than a few days?”

“I wish we had more time, but no matter my feelings, no matter how much I love you, I have to do this. Without the Archdemon, the Evanuris will be vulnerable. It’s the only way to end this.”

She let her hands slip from his, shaking her head to herself, “If your life means so fucking little to you, perhaps it’s best I make the break now, save you the trouble of breaking my heart.”

“Eva please,” he reached for her, but she pulled away, crossing the room in a matter of strides and slamming the door closed behind her on the way out.

In her own quarters, a feminine figure awaited her.

“Do not be alarmed, it is only I. And before you tell me to leave, know that I have a plan.”

*~*~*

“I can save you.”

He jolted at the sound of her voice, not having heard her enter. His darling rogue was forever light on her feet, and even if she had not been, he had been so engrossed in his own thoughts that he likely would not have heard her even if she had danced into the room with bells around her ankles.

He rose to creep her, but a gentle hand on his chest guided him back into his seat in front of the fireplace, her perching herself in his lap. He relished in the familiar weight of her body against his, taking in the sight of her bathed in the warm firelight.

The anger was gone from her gaze, her tears long shed, instead her fingers traced slowly along the lines of his face as though taking in every detail of him.

“Vhenan, you-”

“Please, my love, just listen to me,” she said, “I am sorry for how I reacted earlier. I know your duty, it is one of the reasons I love you; your loyalty, your dedication. But it doesn’t have to end like this, there’s another way. So that no one has to die.”

He frowned, “What are you talking about?”

“Tabris is hailed as the one who killed the Archdemon, because she did. She performed the killing blow and survived.”

He shook his head, “That’s not possible.”

“It is when one of your closest friends is a Witch of the Wilds,” she said.

“What are you saying?”

“Morrigan came to see me, to tell me what no one else outside of Tabris’ inner circle knows. A ritual was performed, before the battle in Denerim, and it allowed for the Old God’s soul to pass into another being without destroying it or the host.”

His eyes widened, “Why does no one know this?”

“Because it’s old magic, some might call it blood magic,” she told him, “And it… it requires the involvement of someone untainted.”

“You.”

“Yes.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment, trying to take in all of the information, “And let’s say that this was even possible, and I could even consider being involved… would it harm you?”

“No. There would be some… changes, but I would live, and so would you, or whatever Warden felled the dragon.”

He met her eyes, unconvinced, “You think you could absorb the soul of an Old God and it would just cause some changes?”

“Well, It wouldn’t be me absorbing it, it would be,” her fingers brushed instinctively over her abdomen.

Panic lanced through him, “Eva, are you-?”

“No!” she protested quickly, before she relented, “Not… not-“

He cocked his head at her, “Not yet? Is that what you were going to say?”

“Just let me explain.”

“A babe would absorb the soul? That’s the plan?”

“That how it worked last time.”

He let out a hard breath, “Kieran… I knew I sensed something about him.”

“That is how Tabris was able to live,” she said, “Morrigan was pregnant with him when the Archdemon was slain, and he absorbed the soul, was born with it. He was fathered by a Warden, Morrigan’s magic bypassed the sterility.”

He was quiet for a moment, contemplating, eyes fixated on the flames.

“Davrin,” she said softly, “Please say something.”

He glanced to meet her eyes, “I’m not saying yes, but if we go through with this, and it works, you’ll be pregnant.”

“I’m not asking anything from you, Dav. If being a father isn’t what you want, I won’t hold it against you.”

“And leave you to raise a babe alone?” he sighed, “But is that even what you want? Beyond a measure to save my life?”

“I never thought I’d want it,” she admitted, “I was determined not to want it, thought that if I ever came to be with child it would have been unplanned and unwanted. And when you told me that being a Warden made you sterile, I made my peace with it, it made a decision that I had very complicated feelings about very easy. But then Morrigan offered me this, and… it’s got me thinking.”

“Thinking what?”

“About a little babe,” she said, “With this mix of your features and mine, they’d have my eyes, and your ears, and I would sing them the songs my mother sang to me, and you would tell them stories of the Dalish, and we would be run ragged trying to stop them yanking Assan’s tail and feeding him leftovers. You would be such a patient and good father, and I would be so shit at discipline, and the kid would probably have all of my flaws, and you’ll be at the end of your tether with us both. It would hard, and messy, but it would be ours. And yes, maybe this is ill advised, to be committing to a child of all things when we have barely had a chance to be together, and maybe we do this and the world ends anyway because I can’t convince the currently non-rampaging elven god to chill his shit and not tear down the Veil, but whatever life after all this looks like… I choose a future with you.”

He took her face in his hands, kissing her hard. She moaned softly in surprise against his mouth as he pulled her closer against him.

Oh okay, she thought to herself, letting herself get wrapped up in his embrace, the pair of them tumbling out of the chair onto the rug in front of the fire.

*~*~*

They lay together in a tangle of limbs a while later, clothes abandoned somewhere in their haste. She had begun to doze off when she felt his hand move to rest against her stomach.

“What if it doesn’t work?”

She cracked her eyes open to look at him, finding him watching her with concern, a furrow to his brow.

“Well, it won’t if we keep trying before Morrigan does her ritual,” she pointed out before she brought her fingers to brush against the back of his hand, “Which part are you worried about?”

“All of it,” he said, “If it doesn’t take, and the ritual can’t work… or if it does take but the ritual still doesn’t work, or hells if I die before I even get a chance to kill the damn thing. It is a little harder to face my death thinking of you alone with a babe.”

She shrugged a little, “Then you’ll just have to come home to me, no matter what.”

He couldn’t help the soft chuckle that bubbled out of him, “Just like that?”

She nodded, “Just like that.”

“Home… I’m not sure either of us know where that is anymore.”

“It’s with each other. Wherever it leads when this is done, as long as we’re together.”

Later, they would find Morrigan and allow her to cast her spell, and even later still, he would stand before the Archdemon with blade drawn and heart aflame to see his duty fulfilled. But for this moment, this last lingering moment before everything changed; one way or another, he would remember the feel of his vhenan in his arms, think of the life that could soon be growing within her, the future they could build together and prayed that it would be enough to see them through.

[egg-emperor]

julian im so sorry people are freaking out over on twitter and calling you a zionist for just trying to enjoy your favoruite fatboy. people are stupid

Thanks I appreciate that a lot. I'm not going to talk about it too much here so this will be the only post mentioning it directly because if I let it consume me it'll just stress me out. But considering how chill people have been towards me for the exact same posts here that I simply crossposted to Twitter, I'm guessing people are more sensible here and can actually understand

It was very frustrating how many people jumped on me to insult and attack me for enjoying something new of Eggman, the way I literally always have openly online for years. I simply didn't want to discuss anything that wasn't related to his appearance in the game and yet everyone immediately wanted to make it about that, then got angry when I had boundaries and wanted to curate my space using the tools social media has given me to use

But apparently doing that means this and that and everyone needs to insult and attack me and argue and pick apart every little thing I did despite all the different possibilites of what it could mean, so it had the exact opposite effect than what I was aiming for. But it proves why I was right to not want it on my post at all when it all went to shit with people arguing, speaking for me which I didn't like on ALL sides, and just insulting me and my character like they know me or can demand me to speak and act a certain way like they're entitled to it

Tumblr seems more chill about the sentiment of "don't put all your focus and energy into things that make you uncomfortable or get you down online, it's okay to not want to discuss current events or politics and it doesn't indicate your side or your opinions, it doesn't have to be other people's business and you can dediciate your space to what you want" than Twitter now, so I can trust that I don't have to expect stress for saying it here

My online spaces have always been my break from my stressful private life and I'm currently in the middle of pulling myself out of another months long bleak situation that I'm not ready to talk about yet and people are demanding me to continue to think and speak about all the bad things in the world on top of that, especially when I'm just trying to be happy and have some fun, which seeing and hearing Eggman in Crossworlds has made me feel the most in weeks

I've lost a few people I liked and admired over this massive overblown misunderstanding so I hope airing it out here won't make me lose more. But I'm not going to force or demand people to understand and accept me like the way others have been forcing me to do things I'm not comfortable doing on there, so I'll just trust the nice people who are understanding will stay because I'd love to still see them around. I really appreciate what we have here, it's a much more chill and accepting comfortable space now that I can't find anywhere else

Thanks for your understanding and support, it means more than I know how to express. I'm gonna love and appreciate that beautiful fat boy forever lol 💜

[ohprcr]

Hello! I've followed your art journey throughout the years on several social medias (though I tend to made and then deactivated accounts as often as breathing due to my impulsiveness haha). I want to start learning art seriously, inspired by you. And tbh I usually got motivation to keep going by putting my progress on the internet, even when no one is looking nor gives me validation, it just feels like I did something rather than keeping the progress to myself. Like, I need a visual tracker.

So I'd love to know your opinion on the pro and cons of the social medias you use to share your art? Especially instagram, twitter, and tumblr (Since I plan on making one each). What kind of culture and rules I must abide, what notice I should take. Which platform is the most comfortable for you? And do you always post the same artworks on all your platforms or you have your own classification on what kind of artwork you'll put on instagram, which one is for twitter, etc? Thanks in advance!

Hi!

First of all thanks for asking me! It's so nice to hear that you're planning to share your art ^^ This is probably gonna a bit long and mostly based on my personal experience, but I hope this helps!

The first socmed I use to mostly (and solely) post art was Instagram. My interactions there are mostly reconnecting with art mutuals from the deviantART days and some RL friends/family. I used to post regularly on Instagram but with how the algorithm works now that they're under Meta, I rarely participate in trends or post reels, and I mostly just post finished art and some speedpaint videos. But if you want you can def use the reels feature to create process video, etc. I like the carousel/stringed together image format and it can be utilized to post a lot of images in one post (up to 20 for now). I also use instagram as some kind of portfolio, with how it present a clean grid. I have RL friends and family following me there so I mostly just post general art, nothing too suggestive.

As for Tumblr, I've had it for quite a long time and it can be traced back to the ol'fandom days haha. I don't participate much in fandoms anymore, but I think it's always a good thing to post either original or fanart with proper tags on Tumblr. The comprehensive tagging method lets you scrounge and filter posts under the tag, so my older posts usually still circulate on other people's blogs even years after it was posted (which I'm grateful that they still enjoy my old stuff!). I mostly post finished art on Tumblr, sometimes multiple images in one post but it's a bit limited compared to Instagram. i don't post videos on here. I also use Tumblr as an archive bc it's much easier to track back my old posts.

The most recent socmed I use is Twitter. Maybe it's already a known fact how the site is kinda falling off after it changed to X :" but I still use it mainly to communicate with friends. I post more liberally on Twitter, from finished art, videos, animation, sketches and personal stuffs as well. It's also where my promotional posts get the most reach in terms of visibility (this includes commissions, merch catalogues, etc) and most clients I've had in the past found me there. I think the community is also more active on Twitter, but sometimes it can also lead to discourses/fighting that I don't rly wanna take part in :" I've seen people moving to Bluesky as well, though I personally haven't used it yet.

All in all I think I mostly crosspost my works across all of my socmed, with a few exceptions on each socmed. I hope this helps and happy posting!!

[kirby-the-gorb]

reply roundup!

@creaturepower added an image description to [eggman], thank you!

man I keep procrastinating on these for ages huh

on [dance] @secondbeatsongs said: oh this reminds me of a song - https://www.scoutsongs.com/lyrics/waltzing-with-bears.html

I don't think I've ever heard this song, it's very cute :') I was probably kinda thinking along the same lines when I drew it anyway, one bear in that picture I strongly associate with teddy bears' picnic

on [coffin] @emerald-oceans said: this hole was made for me! now i want to see kirby in junji ito stories

he pops out the other side completely fine, a little perplexed why everyone else is so upset but ready to fistfight a mountain if it comes to that lol

on [coffin] @mostgeniusone said: An odd shaped tire swing, perhaps? Or maybe the window of a treehouse!

aww, he's playing pretend up in the treehouse! he is feeling the imaginary sea breeze. what a cute idea.

on [float] @ceylonsilvergirl said: we need to start stapling him to the floor, the way he just drifts off like that. or at least put an airtag on him so we know where he is

naaaah it's fine, he never goes far anyway. usually. (we could tie a string to him like a balloon perhaps)

on [album] @pinetreeparadoxx said: Re: your tags, that's awesome op! I hope the album is fantastic when it releases!

thanks! the preview they posted definitely already sounds Real Good to me so I'm sure the full songs won't disappoint :> we're actually gonna be on the road anyway the day it releases so it'll be a perfect time to listen!

on [cat] @ceylonsilvergirl said: my family isn’t allowed to go to the cat cafe near us without me, I’m the only person who knows how to say no to adopting any more cats

honestly same every few months they're both like "hey but what if we had another cat though" and every time I'm like "no because I'm the one who has to take care of them all day and it took long enough for these two to get along as is". my wife in particular is so weak to cats, when we were in the process of adopting the older one she fell in love with the first cat she saw every time lol

on [cocoon] @vs-stardream said: have you ever drawn kirby as the eraserhead baby? i kinda get those vibes from this (sorry.)

hey, no need to apologize! I haven't, I don't think I've ever even seen eraserhead for that matter, but I do see what you mean!

@icannotgetoverbirds asked: are you on bluesky?

I am not, I do still crosspost on twitter but tbh I was never a big fan of twitter even before the new ownership so I just don't really feel up to migrating to any of the twitter clones.

anonymous asked: *sends you hugs* I hope you have a good day, and thank you for the kirbs

aww, thanks! I have no recollection of what I was doing that day lol, buying yarn it looks like. so that was probably a good day!

anonymous asked: Can I just say that I absolutely love your art? It makes me really happy when I see it on my dash and it's always so cute :D

thanks! I'm glad it can bring joy to others as well as me :>

@definitely-not-a-voidlord asked: Hey, I just want to say that your drawings bring a lot of joy to me every day because it means you're still here and it means you're still doing things you love. I'm just some random guy on the Internet, I know, but I hope the sentiment is still a good one!

thank you! doin my best to keep on truckin lol (I do love how there are just like, familiar faces around the internet sometimes where it's just like, you don't know each other but it's still nice to see them posting. the equivalent of someone who rides the same bus as you every week or whatever)