#edit: spelling…again

[ye-olde-sodor]

Night Talks (CotL Fic PT 3)

Gordon gazed of into the distance from the castle balcony. His eyes glanced down at the sight of the city of Vicarstown below him. Vicarstown, the largest city on the Island, connecting the Mainland to Sodor itself, looked so small from the palace in the sky.

When 10 had took control of the island, the Diesel works had ascended into the sky, shifting and morphing from the ranshack sheds that the Diesels dared to call home into a grand and wonderous palace that could rival that of Windsor itself.

Gordon turned his back from the view and leaned against the railing of the balcony. He felt the cold autumn wind brush against his face and arms as he turned his attention to the archway. The light of the moon seemed to shimmer around him and the balcony railing. As Gordon look at the grand arch, a small, thin man in a red turtleneck and black overalls had appeared.

Diesel, the appointed magic scholar, had returned from his trip from the bar. Gordon scoffed at him as he approached.

"You're fifteen minutes late, Rudolph. Any later and you would've had to deal with the Patrols."

"Yeah yeah," the diesel mocked. "It's not my fault we had to take the roads."

Gordon became cross at the mention of roads. "You took the roads?! You're a diesel, why didn't you just travel by rail?!"

"Hey, blame Dodge, not me!" the thin man proclaimed. "His engine failed last week, remember?"

Gordon blinked. He had heard of Dodge's engine, but had assumed all had been fixed. He also assumed that Dodge would've just climbed into one of his colleagues cabs and driven home. Then again, after living with them for so long, he knew the diesels tend to make things more complicated than they would've been had they just used their heads. At least they were typically creative in their poor decisions.

He rolled his eyes at the man but decided to drop the subject. "Just...try to get back here on time next time. I'd hate for you to get mixed up with the patrols."

Diesel, surprisingly enough, felt guilty. Gordon was one of the few engines on the railway that had a fondness for Diesel, although he's not exactly sure why.

In a surprising turn of events, Gordon had stayed with the Diesels after his fight with Diesel 10 and had been working for them ever since. He'd gotten along with the other diesels better than anyone would've expected...and he became especially close to 10.

Diesel wasn't the only one who noticed this change in the prideful engine's notion towards diesels. Many suspected that it had to do with what had happened in the fight between the two of them. While he himself wasn't present for it, he knew that the mysterious Gold Dust was involved with it...and he was determined to understand how it worked.

He walked closer to Gordon and pulled a sheet of paper out of his overall pocket and handed it to Gordon.

"If it makes up for it, I've been meaning to give you to this," he explained.

"What is it?" Gordon questioned.

"It's just an experiment proposal for the dust. I'll need a small bag of the dust for it, but it's a reasonable amount."

"So you want me to propose the idea to him." Gordon concluded as he skimmed through the paper. Diesel was right, It was a simple request. Just a small amount of Gold Dust for Diesel to sprinkle onto a live plant to see what would happen. Simple, but if it produces a result, can prove to be very useful.

"You're the only one he talks to anymore," he argued. "Even Splatter and Dodge can't get to him."

"That makes sense," Gordon argued, "He's...changed since the last time you've seen him."

"Really?" Diesel snarked sarcastically.

"More so than usual, you brick." Gordon sneered. "If you knew how much he's changed you'd understand."

"Of course I know how much he's changed," Diesel thought, "I've known him for years and no one knew he would do this. Besides, what do you know about him? How did you suddenly become his number one fan?"

Gordon put the paper in his pocket and turned to Diesel. "Well, I'll see what I can do. I can't guarantee that he'll go through with the idea, but I'm sure he'll have a look at it. I know he's fond of your little tricks and tests."

"Y'know, you sure know a lot about him." Diesel teased. "I've known him for, what, Three years now? I didn't even know he liked my tricks!"

"What are you implying?" Gordon growled.

"Oh nothing! Nothing at all!" Diesel said as he threw his arms up in defense. "It's just that, well...You two seem awfully close for-"

"We're friends." Gordon interrupted, his face turning red. "Nothing more, nothing less. You're just telling whoppers again."

"For Makers sake Gordon, you two have matching tattoos!"

"Friends can have matching tattoos!" Gordon protested as steam rose from his mouth.

"And send each other love poems?"

"Friends can absolutely send-HEY."

Diesel smiled at the reaction. Little did Gordon know that he had stumbled on a poem on Gordon's desk earlier that day. He had no ill intent with the information, he merely wanted to hear it from the blue engine himself. Both for confirmation and for the fun of it.

"It's fine, really." Diesel insisted, "I just wanna know the story. How did you two, of all engines, hook up?"

Gordon, knowing he'd been caught, let out a long sigh. "It happened around...three years ago. When he first showed up here."

"That long?!"

"It didn't happen right away, you fool!" Gordon clarified. "He was the one who started to feel something for me when I was teaching him the express route. I didn't start having those feelings until after he sent me one of his poems."

"How Chessy." Diesel snarked sarcastically.

"Oh it gets better," Gordon remarked. "It was a rough draft. According to him it was awful, but his driver mixed up the rough draft with the finished poem."

Diesel cocked his head, "Sooooo what happened when you read it?"

"I was swooned." he admitted with a deadpan look, "Completely taken out of my element."

Diesel burst into laughter as Gordon went on, ignoring the man altogether as he was lost in recollection.

"He had his driver pin the note to the side of the shed wall where I was sleeping for the night. When my driver found it in the morning, he read it out loud to us."

Diesel tried to compose himself as Gordon when on.

"I didn't even know we could feel intimacy towards each other until then, and even after the poem I was still skeptical about the feeling. A few weeks later the two of us met to talk about it, and we decided to just keep things the same."

"What?"

"Neither of us knew what romance was. 10 believed that we could feel it, I didn't. We didn't even know if what we were feeling is love to begin with. It could be something else entirely for all we know."

The emotions of machines were never fully understood by anyone, not even the machines themselves. Many believed that they could feel certain emotions, others didn't. Gordon was one of these machines. Him and the majority of the engines on the island believed that love was foreign to engines, even after the evidence from Toby and Henrietta. Until 10 came along, he was convinced that romantic attraction was impossible for engines to feel, and even went as far as to shame those who did back in his youth. Now that he was older (and wiser), he's been expressing doubts about the beliefs that were drilled into him at Doncaster.

Diesel, now incredibly intrigued and eager to help, wanted to quiz the engine. "Can you describe it. The feeling I mean, can you tell me what it feels like?"

"It's...difficult to explain it, but I could try to."

Diesel nodded and decided that questions could help him out. "When my driver fell in love, he said that he could feel happy when he thought of her. What does it feel like when you think of him?"

Gordon took a moment to think about it and responded back. "I feel...warm. Like my fire was recently lit during the winter. It's cozy, and it feels good."

"What about when you two are close together or when you spend time with him? Do you get the same feeling?"

"Yes, I do." Gordon explained. "It's the same feeling, but it's stronger. Warmer even...What do you make of it?"

"Driver says love is like a fever," explained Diesel, "But it's a good fever. It means you found the person who you want to stay with for the rest of your life. The two of you are supposed to be happy together, your supposed to make each other happy, y'know?"

"When you put it like that, it makes sense. But it feels so much more complicated than that, words just can't do it justice."

"It sounds a lot like love to me," Diesel spoke. "but I can't speak for the two of you. You gotta figure that out yourselves."

"True, but some advice from an expert would be appreciated...I don't think either of us know what we're doing."

Diesel shrugged his shoulders. "I may not know much about love but...well I wish for the best for you two. If anyone it can make it work, it's 10. He's tough, but he's a softie. He'd never hurt someone that he loves."

Gordon smiled at the man. He was about to thank his friend before he was seized by a sudden coughing fit. He began to cough violently as thick black smoke had begun to bellow out of his mouth, the smell of diesel fuel filling the air around him.

He knelt down to the ground as he gripped his chest. Diesel reacted quickly and placed his hands on his shoulders as he tried to soothe him. The smoke stung his eyes, but he held on to his friend, waiting for the eventual end to the coughing fit.

The two of them had grown accustomed to the fits, as they had started after his fight with 10 on the platform at Knapford. They typically started around midnight and in the early morning hours, and only lasted for a few moments.

Diesel would never suggest it to Gordon's face, but he suspects that the Gold Dust that 10 used in the fight had been the cause of the fits...and Gordon's transformations.

Eventually, as the black clouds faded, Gordon released the grip on his chest and looked at the palm of his hand. His already long nails had formed into a set of claws, with small quills jutting out from his arm. He cursed as he rubbed his wrist and, with the help of Diesel, got up from the ground.

“It would appear…that my stay here is overdue. Very overdue." he spoke weakly. “Derick and Spamcan must be waiting for me at the gates…I should be off."

"Wait, are you alright? Do you need someone to cover for you?"

"I'm fine," he spoke softly. "If anything, it's quite ironic. I lecture you for being late and yet here I am stalling. We can chat in the morning when we get back, if you'd like."

Diesel smiled as he helped Gordon to his feet, careful not to poke himself with the quills. "Deal, but take it easy. I don't want to be the guy to tell 10 that his boyfriend got hurt on the job."

"Oh hush you." he teased. "There'll be Hell to pay for everyone if that were to happen to me."

Gordon waved farewell to Diesel and walked into the fortress. As he entered the castle, a feeling of excitement and unease rushed into his body in anticipation of the patrol. Like all of the other changes to his body, he had become used to the sudden changes in appearance and behavior by now...but it didn't make what would happen next any more normal.

He hated it, but there was nothing that anyone could do to stop it. Not until they understood his situation, and in order to understand it, he had to let it happen. Not that he had much of a choice.

A small pain in his chest had formed again, and his heart began to race...and he sprinted towards the gates, praying that no one would see what would about to happen to him next.

[minty-sweet-art]

Wake up my fellow nerds!! it #mintysillyart edit compilation time🚨🚨🚨🚨

✨carnival au addition✨

Carnival au and drawing by: @sm-baby

Yea this is 2 minutes long (save my soul i had to add everyone somehow for some reason)

Warning for: loudish tv beeping sound/car honk/yelling, cursing, emoji knife& Japanese Ogre mask, real gun photo, explosion gif

Gummigoo was harmed im sorry y’all

But no gloinks where harmed

Link to most of the drawing used here

Link to where the player drawing came from

Link to pomni pic

Link to caine pic (warning for violence and blood)

Link to zooble pic

And finally link to gloinks

[sainzinnorris]

❛ you were a wonderful ❛ you were

experience... ❜ everything..❜

[winchestergifs]

Queer Characters of SPN

25/30 ❥˚⁀➴ Alan J. Corbett

[bardandbear]

one with the weave

[collectivecloseness]

11 with whatever stranger things character works best ig. 11 nearly *just* makes it but is always left out, ones that don’t quite make it onto some lists are always interesting, like 6 or 51, or the last 100 or something lol

Babes... the fact 11 is literally Nobody by Mitski... the lonely left out one 😭 Anyway this is poor Stevie fr 😭😭

(Cw: this fic is about Steve’s mental health after dealing with all the upside down trauma the past few years)

Steve Harrington x reader

Steve doesn’t sigh, he doesn’t groan, he just doesn’t make a sound when he finally wakes up. He’d fallen back asleep a couple of times after opening his eyes, just hoping to shorten the day and stay somewhere peaceful a moment longer, but his body couldn’t take anymore sleep. He was awake now.

There was no work today. No alarm to make sure he could be autonomous and run on autopilot to brush his teeth and rush to the car in yesterday’s work clothes, and no radio call from one of the kids in danger giving him the boost of adrenaline to get up either.

But tapping his fingers on his plain grey quilt, Steve couldn’t handle the realisation he’d be alone with his thoughts right now if he didn’t get up.

Pushing himself with a sigh, Steve winces as his feet hit the cold fooorboards, slumping over to put some black socks on first, before he finds a shirt to throw over his head. He looks down to his sweatpants, but suddenly the thought of changing out of them, and into something else made Steve’s head ache and feel faint at the same time. So he didn’t care about wearing what he’d worn to bed downstairs as he dragged himself to the living room.

Steve was used to being alone in this house. His parents basically treated the place he grew up in as a holiday home, rather than a home, being there around a weekend every six weeks, if they were ever that scheduled. He never knew when they were coming back.

Steve basically owned the house now, as the sole person who actually lived there. He’d turn his parents room into a spare room, maybe have Robin as a roommate, he knew she wanted to move out away from her parents, but even mentioning it to his mom, his dad overheard him over the phone and he had yells and disappointed chidings of how selfish and inconsiderate he was assaulted down the speaker. ‘They still lived there!’ They said, although they hardly ever turned up to prove their point.

At least people visited, even if Steve couldn’t truly make the house his home yet, no decorating of his own. But being alone here, it at least made his house the designated hang out zone. It gave him good memories here. You visited a lot, and Steve was so grateful to have you as a partner. He wondered what you were up to today...

There was nothing for Steve to do here. Definitely not alone. And he definitely couldn’t risk messing something up, and his parents deciding to drop in from the other side of the country. But standing at the base of the stairs, looking around at his open, and empty home, something vile and sickening clawed at his chest, trying to scrape up his throat, split open his head from the inside. Steve went straight to the television, his chest in pain enough it made Steve flinch, turning the tv onto some random channel, any, just turning it up. A sitcom being on air, and the noise of a family all chatting together made Steve feel less alone.

Steve nearly sprinted to all the windows in the house, opening them up so he could hear noise from the outside, the things happening in the real world. He opened up the curtainless window of his kitchen, and he stood there a moment, the one further away from the tv, as he let the world go by. The wind stroked comfortingly through Steve’s brown hair, from the open panel at the top of the glass, where he was. Steve closed his eyes, letting the touch encouragingly pass. But soon there was another reason he wanted his eyes closed, because it was beginning to get harder to look outside.

He listened to cars honking hello to each other, teenagers chatting to their friends on the way to school, parents repeating road safety with their eager kids. Pushchair wheels rolling and dogs yipping and leaf blowers working. Everyone talking. In their own conversations, taking part in lives separate to the others they pass by without even noticing them, but everyone out there at least has something in common. Something Steve envied and yearned, but just could not find it in himself to seek at this moment.

The wind was cooler now. Biting him. Not meant for him. Everyone had someone else around, shielding each other from nature’s course, holding onto each other to avoid puddles, stepping away from the leaves blowing near them, or in one case, jumping on them themselves.

Steve retreated to his television. He didn’t know this family in the show, he wasn’t even watching, his eyes on the tv, but unfocused and mind not taking any of the images in. He just wanted them to keep talking.

As soon as he’d sat down, Steve realised he probably should have grabbed something from the kitchen to eat. And now he was thinking about it, his stomach churned in hunger. He knew he was hungry, even if it was the type of hunger that made you feel nauseous. But Steve had already sat down. And standing up again, just to get himself some food, just could not be prioritised enough for Steve to motivate himself to get his legs to move.

All Steve wants is somebody. Somebody near him right now. Somebody to be with him. He was a changed man after his first encounter with the upside down those few years ago. Battling creatures with his baseball bat, his ex and her new guy, and learning all about the horrible world underneath this one. Becoming the protector of others and the perpetual and never ending punching bag at the same time.

He looped it all in with the upside down, all these events, the Russians torturing him, what happened with Nancy, the possible state of his future, his relationship with his parents, almost losing the people he loves even though he always puts himself on the line first he just!!- What else can he do?!! And why isn’t him throwing himself into every danger to protect the people who actually deserve to be protected ever enough?!

Why do people still get hurt, when Steve will always let himself get hurt for them!?

Steve puts his head into his hands, his elbows digging into his thighs but he just pushes them in harder, his bitten nails barely doing damage as he scrapes them into his head whilst he’s burying his eyes. “Shut up shut up shut up.” Steve growls softly to himself, knowing he wasn’t helping anything.

He was a coward.

He acted strong, in front of the others. Proud to always be ‘the’ badass around the kids, especially Dustin. And he always headed straight on for danger if that would mean it helped the others. But he was so changed when it was just him now. He wasn’t the same person before; and he was glad, he’d been an asshole - something Steve winces into his hand at, as he remembers - but he’s not like he used to be.

He used to be able to get through his nightmares about his childhood. He used to come home and just chill. Enjoy the house to himself, and throw parties. He never felt like this until he went through all that trauma, as you’d promised him it was. He never felt so troubled, so down, so exhausted, so scared, so lonely. So just everything all at once.

He knows it’s not up to anybody to save him, he knows that no one can. Or at least, he thinks that, sometimes. Even though Steve sometimes feels like screaming, begging you to save him, even at the moments he’s least in danger, just in his own home. Even with you right there holding him. Not actually risking his life like he’s done so many times, like he’s made you cry over, watching him be so selfless, and brave, and hurt, again and again. Needing you to help save him, after it all too. But part of him feels like a coward for wanting it. The other half remembers all your loving words, all of them, not one is ever forgotten by Steve, and he’s able to regain control over those thoughts again most times he slaves over this.

Before you, there would have been no one to save Steve first, no one he was most important to, during all these life threatening events. Steve almost allowed himself to be okay with the thought no one would save him, even as he was first to throw himself in head first if it meant protecting his friends. Everyone had someone else. Someone they’d check up on first. Steve was glad he had you. Even when you promised him he wasn’t just your first choice to save, that others would pick him too. Even that helped Steve. Not just you being there, but you, you being the one to be his partner, you who just always knows how to help him.

All he wanted was to feel alright. Not great, just alright. Something he always used to take for granted. Something he can start to feel again, whenever he’s with you, or surrounded by his loved ones. ...Steve’s lips twisted up, his head tilting slightly as it came out of his hands. Why was that something so hard, for him to be able to feel alright? Why was his life like that?

But you at least told him he wasn’t a coward. You got through it with him, you let him be changed even when he wasn’t alone, you-

Steve’s head shot up as he heard the key in the door. And his heart froze like a cool zap in his chest, as he prayed inside his head to let it be you. That you somehow knew he needed you today. That you were coming for him, like you always did.

And Steve felt relief pour through his body so hard, his frozen fingers and toes flooded with such warmth, allowing him to actually feel able to move his muscles, as he reached his arms out for you from where he was sat on the couch, as you made eye contact with him from where you’d hung your coat, your own eyes filled immediately with your knowledge.

“Oh... Oh baby.”

You spoke so softly. Steve loved your voice. He kept his arms open as you rushed over, sitting by him on the couch and immediately pulling Steve into your arms with a big breath. Steve melting his face into your collarbone, as he let himself listen to your breath, your heartbeat, the creak of your trousers against his couch, and he felt whole not being alone at all anymore.

Steve is happy to listen for moments longer, his brown messy hair nestling into the crook of your neck, as he smooths his cheek over your warm skin. He can smell the body wash he uses when he showers at yours. His hands crawl up to hold you by the side of your chest softly. Steve happy to start to listen to the beat of your heart, and see if his will follow rhythm, like it does when he pays attention to it.

But you start speaking again. At least, filling his home with your voice. “Stevie darling. I’m here. You’re okay Steve.” You kiss his soft hair, stroking his head, and Steve leans into your touch. “You’re okay. I’m staying with you today.” You promise, knowing he likes when you do so, and when you plan it for the rest of his day.

Steve nods, letting you know he heard you, and he’s thankful, but a big sigh leaves his lungs, tickling hot against your collar, as he thinks, at least now while in a safety bubble of your warm hold, having wrapped your arms and legs, all of you safely around him.

Whether he’s been big or small, tough or soft, he’s still never good enough, still nobody wanted him. He was a douchey smartass, then a loser dumbass, and he wasn’t liked as either of those - never wanted, Steve thinks. Until you.

His thoughts still wandering around those paths, as he starts to let you take over for him this morning. He’s got to remind himself those thoughts he has just aren’t true, during spirals like this. You do want him. You, his best friend, his other friends, the kids, Joyce, Hopper, hell even his parents.

He is wanted.

Steve’s just got to remember it even in his lonely times. It doesn’t matter whether he’s brave and macho, or a dorky himbo, he’s still him, and he’s still loved by somebody. By multiple somebodies. And turning his head, peering his soft brown eyes up into your own, Steve constantly knows you really love him.

Steve leans his hand up, not even thinking about how his body no longer feels tired or achy anymore, just brushing your hair away behind your ears so he can see more of your perfect face, and also touch your soft hair.

“Good morning.” He speaks up, smiling crookedly and smally at you, but Steve feels relieved and wondrous, hearing his own voice in his big house.

“Good morning Steve.” You smile down at him. And God are Steve’s eyes sparkly as they look mesmerised at you. You moving to stroke Steve’s puffy brown hair, as his longer fingers still caress over your own. You smile, and Steve smiles back. No ache in his heart, his thoughts just full of all he can do with you today now his house is not so empty, or you can even leave the house together, if he chooses that he wants to. And that small other aware part of his thoughts, so happy and thankful that in this moment, that you are here with him.

Even though Steve can tell you know he was sad. That he was going through it a bit again. He’s obviously much better now he’s practically laying across your lap, his toned body fitting perfectly in your arms, and his head tucked warmly at the bottom of your chest, looking up at how you peer down at him, holding him, cradling your boyfriend safely, and Steve brings his hands to rest on your forearms, smiling as he swallows in his throat, relaxing in a position Steve loves.

Steve’s not asking you to fix him, he knows it’s not as simple as that, and he knows you don’t need any pressure. You two are working on it all, together. Both your issues, both your needs, and importantly, your wants. Steve so happy to be able to share his wants with you just as much as his needs, and have you take care of each other’s, of each other. Steve’s not asking for you to fix him, instead he’s licking his dry lips, and with a small and endearing smile, asks “Can I have my kiss now?”

His adoring smile only growing as you gleefully and slowly move in, pressing your warm lips against his own. Giving Steve the one thing he needed to start feeling properly alright again. Allowing Steve to hold your face close, as you both chuckle softly into each other’s mouths, the small sound so audible to Steve with how close you both are. As you happily, and so open heartedly, honestly, lovingly, both share a sweet kiss, for the start of his better day.

[humanmorph]

the movie night scene may be a season highlight so far. cori 🥺💗

[catfacedcat]

i wanted to draw this out cuz it gave me an idea

[cosmical-flowers]

Tetora-kun …… lets take ibuprofen together …..

[raineandsky]

hey y'all! so if you've been reading the tags on my posts you know i've been writing a novel - and it's done (again)!! hurray!!! which means i'm now on the lookout for beta readers :D (again)

(if you've seen me make this post before, no you haven't)

A Dance With Death is a 83k word portal fantasy about demons, the afterlife, and what it means to be a victim of fate.

A blurb and a quick summary of what i'm hoping for is under the read more for anyone interested:

"Demons are generally expected to go undiscovered in the living world.

Azazel is not one to hit general expectations.

Mia, though, a weathered pizzeria worker and now accidental-demon-finder, has seen worse. A mutual agreement flourishes from her discovery – Mia doesn’t see Hell, and Azazel stays in the living world in return. It seems simple enough at first, but the tiny kitchens of the pizzeria prove an unfortunately intimate place if you don’t want to make friends with your demonic coworkers.

Then Mia introduces her boyfriend, Jake, and suddenly their blooming friendship feels a lot more dangerous. He’s six feet of jealousy and rage, and he doesn’t like how close Azazel’s secret has made them. They’re not sure how far he’s willing to go to keep them away from her.

After all, the Harbinger of Death is only willing to wait so long."

Since this is my second round of betas, this is more focused on the parts i've changed. general story flow is my main concern, as well as thoughts on the ending. i'm not too worried about a deadline on this since i'll be busy myself, but around a month or so would be nice if possible.

If you've read this far - thank you! If this is something that takes your interest, please leave a comment on this post or drop me a message and we can talk about it in a little more detail :)

[ohbo-ohno]

poor reader who’s never had anal sex before, struggling while Johnny breaks out the silicon butt plug training kit to help her get used to it. fights him the whole time until he gets her pinned down on her belly. makes her walk around with the smallest one in to get used to it and reader is just…I have to escape, I can’t do this

AH you!!!! it's barely 8 a.m.!!!!!!!!!

cw for noncon sex below the cut

he wants it to be a surprise for simon, wants the two of them to be able to fuck you in both your holes at the same time.

you do not want this whatsoever. you want the opposite in fact, you want to cuddle up and watch so tv while pretending you're not being held captive.

johnny is the one who gets what he wants

you make him chase you down when he brings it up all casually over breakfast, thinking for some reason you've maybe got an actual chance at getting away. you don't - all running does is make johnny fuck you before he starts stretching you. tackles you to the rough wood floor (kisses your bruises later as apology) and fucks you with your head held down, that primal thrill of hunting and catching turning him feral. carries you kicking and shouting into the bedroom, laughs and calls you dramatic, promises to make it good for you if you're good for him.

you are not good for him.

he's really feeling the fight today, lets you get just on the verge of escaping a few times before he pins you to the bed for good, laughing at your shout of pure anger. he's taunting you, all c'mon baby, try a little harder. no, no, keep fightin', you've almost got it

mean man.

he starts with the smallest size he'd bought, lubes up a finger and stretches you quickly despite your wiggling. you're clenched up tight, and he sighs in your ear - relax, make this easier for both of us, yeah, bonnie? - and tells you told you so when you yelp at the sting of his pointer finger sinking the whole way into you.

when he slides the butt plug into you he makes a whole big deal out of teasing you. all that struggle just for this huh? how do you think you'll ever take si's cock when you pitched a fit over somethin' hardly bigger than my finger?

he's only got a few hours before simon's back home, so unfortunately you repeat this song and dance with increasingly bigger butt plugs several times over the next few hours. simon rewards the two of you real nicely for it <3

[doegraham]

im thinking about how Hannibal was Il Monstro. The Ripper. always above or below "human." he was either unholy, sinful, or seemed elevated above human folly. then Will comes along, and Will is just painfully human. he knows humanity intimately, all of its sins and greatness, and was incredibly burdened by the knowledge. and suddenly Hannibal's Achilles heel is a man of raw humanity he (and others) so often saw him apart from.

[theywontletmebeprincipal]

My dealer: got some straight gas 🔥😛 this strain is called “termina Festival” 😳 you’ll be zonked out of your gourd💯

Me: yeah whatever. I don’t feel shit.

5 minutes later: dude i swear i just saw some Moonscorched in the forest

My buddy Daan pacing: the Church of Alll-mer is lying to us

[anotherferalrat]

I wish a very merry good night

AND FUCK YOU

To the genshin editors who have been using est ce que tu m'aimes in their edits

ESPECIALLY THE NEUVITHESLEY EDITORS

YALL I CAN'T KEEP CRYING EVERYTIME I GO ON TIKTOK PLS HAVE MERCY PLS-

Shoutout to that kaeluc edit with the same song tho, beautiful content, love them, so sorry the comments roasted u alive bestie😭🫶

[folkhoax]

@rwrbmovie & @rwrbsource’s rwrbweek: Day 2 | Song ↳ "why'd you whisper in the dark / just to leave me in the night?" (x) | screenshots