#fern and fangs

[the-toastyverse]

This is so fun.

[toast-com]

There's a Homestuck Pesterlog Maker and I decided to MAKE MY OCS!!!!!! ❤️💚❤️💚

MONTLEY IS ONCE AGAIN REAL!!! 🗣️🗣️🗣️

[bstrdwulf]

not biting the hand that feeds me but licking the hand beats me, desperately trying to win affection from someone who doesn't love me

[panoramaaa]

[astralnymphh]

⤹ okay but on the topic of vampire!ellie, which one do you guys personally like?? has nothing to do with what i'll write next, just a curiosity + headcanons. MDNI 18+ enjoy this free vamp!ellie brainstorming content with a random side of nipple fixation!

¨༺ ♱ ༻¨

teenage dirtbag vampire!ellie in a modern realm who can't stand being in her parents suburban hell born house, tired of their cockalorum and urging for her to engage more in the vampiric branch of her family. attend the parties, go human–hunting with the other blood–ingesting addicts, try this, do that. it all irked ellie the wrong way, made her psyche boil, cause all she wanted to fucking do was you. she craves only your blood, your taste, the metallic ribbons pumping your lifeline was like a goddamn nectar to her. and you let her feed, because you loved her. you let your meat sack of a body replace her breakfast, lunch, dinner– first and final meal.

that's why you let her move in with you. cause you fucking can. now, every itty–bitty token of her life tangles with yours on the walls. pictures and awards, a manifold of knickknacks cluttering the window sills, even her clothes tend to blend with yours– an illusive invitation for you to wear her clothes without the question ever pressing her lips apart. you both are madly besotted in each other. no denial objects to that.

and, fuck, this version of ellie is hot. fitted tanks absent of a bra– pale brown pierced nipples erecting the thin fabric into a small mound. gray wash skinny jeans that fit her lean legs well, waistband cruising nicely under that peek of a v–line, fraying at the ankle hems that contrasts into those battered up converse of a similar hue. oh, and usually cloaks her shoulders up in a sable leather jacket– with your name patched in. a jacket, so prized, alwaaays winds up hurled to some isolated and cimmerian corner of your room, purely cause she lacks the care to hang it up whenever she returns home in a scramble, fangs unsheathing for blood. her knees would find themselves pressing hard into the mattress beneath both of you, centering a large gully of weight where her half–unzipped crotch and your butt meet, thirstily rutting to the point of numbing your clit through the hard denim of your pants. her zinc button just kept pounding that shit, keeping you spread wide. while dry humping you, she'd moan and groan hot on your earlobe, fangs partial hooking on the rim, "mhh– fuck n' suck, babe– can i? fuuck.." 'fuck n' suck' was just some made–up code for, well, it should be obvious. times like those, where she intends to fuck her pussy rough on you without remorse, whilst drying your organs of blood.

ohh, but i'll write that in detail one day~

gothic vampire!ellie who lodges high on a hill, deep in the mighty fathomage of her grandoise palace, steeples scaping high into the howling sky– torn asunder by a network of lightning above. you're nothing but meat and blood, princess, a feast inside regalia. every freshwater pearl, every satiny reflection of light off your dress, only made your flesh more supple in her fluorescent fern eyes. those lucifer–damned pupils though, well, let's just say you can't even measure the green pool of her eyes anymore. dilating, big black saucers, ballooning the milken white away whenever she snags a glimpse of your blood. that phantom heartbeat of hers races madly, mad of love for that color. for that glisten of liquid. so divine, she thinks. a gulp bolts down her gullet when within a measly foot of you, or, more specifically, a mere gate between the two of your noses. how else is she supposed to store her cache of sustenance?

yes, that's precisely what i'm hinting at. a holding cell. dusty and decrepit, rats abundant skittering the stone ground, and you swore cobwebs began to web themselves in your hair– now loose and unbraided. that brute of a girl would crouch on the opposing side, dangling keys on a loop sat upon her finger, ploddingly wagging like a swinging great axe. taunt, taunt taunt taunt.. is all she would skip about and do. slip into your cell quickly and play with you. kitty–cornering you and blocking you in her arms, cooing how terribly sorry she feigns to be, for jailing you up and treating you like meat. however, tides turn, and so do emotions. could it be, the dracula upon the misty cliff– has fallen in love?

turns out, witty princesses with a snakish tongue and spit to spare really turned her on. fuck, even you cursed yourself for rending your guard and feeling a magnetic pull to that hunk of a beast, clad in her midnight black, puffed sleeves and collar drawstring shirt. finely sewn black trousers and shiny black boots, curse you, for finding something about that hellishly horrid outfit so handsome on her. there's– oh, this particularly noticeable asset tp her garb as well. the black dye was nearing translucency, and if you loitered your vision directly on her chest long enough, caught in the right cosmic light, you could see that waxen bosom and her nipples, light brown contrary to her vampiric skin. haha, how humiliating it was when she caught you staring at them as she stood in front of your sat stature, being so brazen enough to ask, "something caught your eye princess? shall i strip myself of this, then?" whilst her hands mindlessly tucked under the loose hem anyway, wringing the fabric over her head and banishing it aside. "here, feel my dead heart–" swirled her voice, thrusting her hand out to grasp yours, cold as the ice age, her mitts froze your wrists and yanked them forth, pressing them flat against her breast and swiping her thumb across your contrasting warm skin, leavening with excitement as you fondle. she stows her knee on the bed adjacent to your thigh, whispering, so.. so, hauntingly, "feel that? no pulse, no life, not a spark lives within me, dear." and it was nothing vastly far from the truth. beneath her erect nipple, was no beat. eyes widening to a moon, and lips parting to steal simply too much air, you shudder. was it fear, you shuddered for, or arousal? that's a tale, for another day.

[nonsensology]

F is for Flippy (and a fuming furious Fliq) frantically fleeing from fanatic fans at a fall forest festival.

While I was feeling nostalgic over favorite childhood books, I was suddenly in the mood to make an alphabet illustration. Here you'll also find "Flounder fishing for French fries" and "Fix-It Felix fixing a fondue fountain for some foxes and a ferret".

I counted over 60 different F words and things represented here (although I could have also missed some). This includes technicalities like "face", "fur", "finger", "fabric", and "fast". Can you spot them all?

F (character from Mike Salcedo series)

fabric

face

fairy

fairy tale

fall (autumn)

fan (device)

fan (person)

fan art

fanatic

fangs

farm

fast

Felix, Fix-It

fern

ferret

festival

film

film reel

fingers

Finland

firefighter

firefly

firework

first (place)

fish

fishing (verb)

fishing pole / fishing rod

five (both Roman and Arabic)

fix(ing)

flag

flamingo

flee(ing)

Flerovium

Flippy

Fliq(py)

floaty

florist

Flounder

flower

fondue

food

foot / feet

football

footprint

footstool

forest

forget-me-not

fork

fortune teller

fossil

fountain

four

fourteen

fox

foxglove

France / French

Frankenstein's monster

frantic(ally)

fries

frog

fruit

fuming

fur

furious

furniture

[forlorn-crows]

metal mouth

a lil pairing for @yesandpeeps's comic here about my beloved mountain getting braces. he's so fuckin cute i can't stand it

1.3k of grumpy mountain under the cut:

"Now, caro, there is no need to be upset," Copia soothes. "They will help you, si? I do not want you to be in pain, my earth ghoul, that is no good for any of us."

Mountain shrugs, gaze downcast. “It just seems so . . . trivial.”

“Your health is not trivial; it is simply unfamiliar, or perhaps, er, too human?” Copia offers. 

The ghoul looks the man in his eyes, apprehensive. But he nods, agreeing. 

Braces. What a mortal thing to be burdened with as an ancient hellbeast. 

Mountain had started to complain about mouth pain a few months ago. His teeth, especially his fangs, had never been perfect. None of theirs were. Crooked teeth were not high on his list as far as complaints about appearance. Fitting oversized, monstrous bones into a mortal mouth certainly isn't a comfortable thing. 

But they all managed. Mountain managed. Until, that is, they started shifting, crowding in on each other and messing with his bite. The perfect space that his fangs fit into was suddenly too snug, the points of them clacking together if he chewed wrong or made a funny face at Swiss over his cymbals. His bottom incisors had begun to tip forward, threatening to give him an underbite. 

Suddenly, his teeth were just . . . wrong. And once they started becoming tender and sensitive to his favorite meals, Aether determined it was time for Copia to get involved, much to Mountain’s chagrin. 

“You know, I had braces as a child,” Copia muses now. “Quite bulky things. I could never pick out the right colors.” He chuckles a little, but stops when he catches the frown starting to form on Mountain’s face. He reaches up to pat him on the shoulder and scritch under his chin. “Not to worry, they will not look as bad as mine did, my ghoul.”

But they’ll still look bad, is what his brain translates Papa’s words to. 

Mountain’s already regretting complaining about it all.

—

The afternoon and evening after getting them placed is spent alone. Mountain is none too kindly reminded of the first time his horns shed, hours spent hiccuping through tears as he stared at his foreign reflection. 

They look . . . weird. They feel weird. Little bits of metal poking at his gums, his tongue, the inside of his mouth. His teeth look too small, too human for his liking. Mountain couldn’t fathom adding some unnatural color on top of it all, so he chose the translucent, slightly frosted elastic chain. It may yellow overtime, the orthodontist had said. Mountain had nodded, accepted this potential side effect, but he really didn’t care. 

He’s thankful to have an entire drum kit to hide behind. But his pack? Well, he can hide from them at least for the next twelve hours. 

Mountain steps away from the bathroom mirror with a sigh and goes back to uselessly pruning the ferns hanging over the windows. 

—

He rises the next day from a fitful sleep just as the sun peeks through the leaded panes. His mouth is screaming at him, gums sensitive and too much pressure everywhere. Lines of pain shoot up his jaw when he rubs across a nerve, and Mountain winces with a curse on his tongue.

Begrudgingly, he gets dressed for the day, despite the urge to crawl back into bed and sulk for as long as he can. But he can't very well do that with tour starting up again in a matter of weeks, so he pulls on some sweats and slumps to the kitchen. 

Tea. He needs tea. And probably a few hours alone with a quintessence ghoul.

No one’s in the common area when he arrives, and he silently thanks the devil below for a moment of solitude. The earth ghoul huffs a sigh through his nose and rifles through the teabags for something smooth and spiced. 

The warm scent of chai and orange zest hits his nose as Mountain waits for his cup to steep, smiling ever so slightly as the fragrant steam wafts over his face. It makes him feel better, even if just for a moment. 

Mountain cringes internally as he hears small feet padding down the corridor. He knows it’s Dew before he sees him, the little ghoul often rising with the sun most mornings. He tucks his face further into his mug, caging his forearms around his face.

The fire ghoul lets out a big yawn as he rounds the corner, stretching to brush the top of the short archway as he enters. Dew chirps when he sees the earth ghoul hunched over at the table. 

“Mornin’ Mount,” he mumbles. He inhales a lungful of air, sighing with a happy hum. “Hm, smells good. Mind if I join?”

Mountain shakes his head, mussed-up waves falling in front of his face. 

“Thanks,” Dew says. He makes his way over to the cabinets with a lilt in his step, humming some indiscriminate tune as he selects his favorite mug. Tired, but still too cheery for how early it is. It’s quiet between them for a few moments, save for the clinking of ceramic and Dew’s song. Mountain lowers his shoulders a little. 

And promptly raises them back up under his ears when Dew asks: “How’re the braces?” Mountain knows the fire ghoul is looking at him expectantly, ears perked. He doesn’t have to look to know his eyes are kind, rather than filled with malice or ill-intent. Dew wouldn’t make fun of him he knows, but he would love nothing more than to escape to the forest and bury his head in the dirt right now. 

“Fine,” he lies. “Kinda hurts,” he mumbles as an afterthought, doing his best to speak with the least amount of mouth movements. 

Dew tuts empathetically. He doesn’t speak again, but Mountain still feels his eyes on him. He chances a glance at him, which was really the wrong thing to do, considering the way Dew’s face perks up when he does. His arms are folded across his chest as he leans nonchalantly against the kitchen counter, hair and eyes glinting gold in the rising sunlight. 

Dew gives him a knowing grin and raises his eyebrows, attempting to prompt the earth ghoul into sharing his new set of braces. Mountain stares back, shy. But, against his will, there's a smile tugging at his lips, like he simply can't help it when Dew looks at him like that.

He smiles wider. "Come on big guy, will you show me?" Dew shuffles over to him at the table. "Please?"

Mountain bites the inside of his cheek, eyes steely. He shakes his head sheepishly, already pushing away from the table, chair legs scraping against the floor as he moves to make his escape. 

He doesn’t get very far. The fire ghoul steps in front of him, one hand grabbing Mountain’s sweater sleeve and the other reaching up towards his face. Dew waggles his fingers under his chin with a stupid giggle, bouncing on his toes as Mountain jerks his head away from his hand.

“Dew,” he warns, unable to escape his little fingers. “Swear t’ Satan, ‘f you don—”

“Ha!” the smaller ghoul exclaims, grabbing Mountain’s cheeks at last and squishing them together until the earth ghoul can’t help but bare his teeth, a grimace more than a grin. Mountain pulls at Dew’s wrist to try and dislodge him.

“Stooop,” he groans. Dew gives him a few squeezes before releasing him, opting to wrap both arms around Mountain’s middle instead and nuzzling against his chest in apology.

“But you look fine, Mount. Cute, even,” he laughs, looking up at him. 

“Do not,” Mountain responds, shaking his head. He rolls his eyes, sighing. He brushes a stray strand of hair out of Dew’s face, holding back a laugh when Dew purposely bats his lashes and nods solemnly back at him.

“You do. It’s different, yeah. But you’re still you,” he offers. 

“Thanks,” Mountain says in a small voice. 

Dew gives him one last squeeze before pulling away and sitting down at the table. He smiles and waves his earth ghoul back over. “Come on, finish your tea. I’m sure Aether’ll be up soon, and I’m sure he’ll need no convincing to help you with the pain.”

[sprout-fics]

I'm having a soft spot for werewolf soap. He isnsuch a puppy for you, full of joy and jumping around and playfull and loves yo wrap himself arround you and suffocate you with his thick fur

And then turns around andis absolutely feral , growling and staking his claims and will rip someone to shreds if needed.

Also just the imagie of a large wolf basically smirking is just to adorkable

I'm so here for bouncy enthusiastic puppy Soap who turns feral as soon as you're in danger.

It’s from one moment to the next that it happens

You’re clearing the route through the jungle with Soap at your side, a routine patrol on the outer perimeter of the temporary camp you and the team have set up in the days-long pursuit of the Narco cell that was responsible for the assassination of a politician. They’d fled into the thick foliage of the dense underbrush, and you and the team had quickly moved to follow, Los Vaqueros alongside you. 

If Soap loved his job on a regular mission, this now seems to be the epitome of excitement for him. Besides having the pleasure to work alongside Ale and Rudy again, the thrill of the hunt itself is addictive to the shifter’s senses. The hum of life in the canopy, the lush scent of greenery, the spongy earth under his feet make the Scotsman practically bounce beside you, eyes glimmering and voice a vibrant cheer. 

He bumps up against you, overexcited, nose brushing under your jaw, fangs just barely poking out in his enthusiasm. He’s paying less attention to the perimeter around you both and more to you, affectionate and adoring with his mate. 

“Down, puppy.” You try for the third time, hands raising to gently push him off of you, and Soap whines at that, big beautiful blue eyes pouting. 

“Only for a few minutes.” He pleads again. “Just a little jog cannae hurt, we won’t be long. Promise.”

“We have to finish our patrol first.” You chide not for the first time, and he grumbles at you in disappointment. Yet he doesn’t argue, knows that the job always comes first and foremost. Work before play. 

He opens his mouth to say something else- likely to snark at you, but then he pauses. You see it in his eyes, the way his pupils dilate as his super-human hearing picks up on something distant. 

“Soap?” You ask, quieter, concerned. Yet he doesn’t answer, not as his head whips towards the direction of the jungle and he doesn’t even breathe.

“Down!” He bellows, voice thunderous just as gunfire explodes from the ferns, and you yelp as suddenly his form barrels into yours, pressing you down into the soft dirt as bullets fly overhead. 

You curse, try and twist from under him to return fire but Soap suddenly snarls, loud enough to make your heart stammer. His form hovers over you, braced on his elbows with his face just millimeters from your own.

It’s always his eyes that change first when Johnny shifts, going from baby blue to yellow in a matter of seconds as his body begins to transform- broadening, widening, bones cracking as they break and reform in the span of only seconds. You don’t understand how he manages the pain of his entire body re-writing itself, and now with his face contorted into something no less than fury, you remember at once just how deadly the werewolf above you truly is. 

Mere moments, before Soap’s muzzle elongates and his fangs drip with pooling, hungry saliva onto your face, his shoulders drawing close, growing to accommodate his massive size, claws forming from his fingernails near your head. His gear and clothes shred as he shifts, ribboned into rags by his towering form. 

“Stay.” Is all he tells you, his voice ringing clear in your mind as a trembling growl drops deep from the hollow of his chest. It’s the only warning you get before he launches himself in the direction of your attackers, and there’s screams at the sudden massive form that snarls and hurdles towards them with the intent of utter destruction. 

It’s only when you try to shift and follow that you notice the bloody gash in your leg, rendered by a bullet that you couldn’t quite miss. You hiss at the pain, draw the leg up to your chest even as blood stains the fabric of your pants, pools across your gloved fingertips. It’s enough to distract you even as the radio erupts with chatter from Price and the others, pounding in your ears as you attempt to press down on the wound. 

You don’t even notice the rest of the jungle go quiet until a looming shadow falls across you. You look up to see Soap’s huge yellow eyes, the blood caking his maw as he nudges at you, scruff still bristled with a still coiled energy from his carnage. You raise a bloody hand to the side of his face, and your wolf makes a little whine at the touch, concerned, upset, frenetic. 

When there’s a rustle from the bushes, Soap snarls, the sound entirely feral, animalistic like the untamed creature that he is. Paws plant on either side of your form, shielding you from view as he turns in the direction of those that dare approach. Head hanging low in warning, blood dripping from his fangs, Soap issues only one, savage warning to those that venture too close to his injured mate. 

“Mine.”

[rooksamoris]

💞 — 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐄.

💞 — in which you are caught by a notoriously charming vampire hunter named rook.

💞 — vampire hunter!rook hunt x vampire!reader

💞 — warnings: just a little suggestive, blood mentions and reader's hands are tied.

💞 — 600 words. this is tempting me to write a whole bunch of stuff of vampire hunter rook.

You had fallen for his trap, giving him the perfect chance to finally pin you to the tree. Rook grinned as you tried your best to get out of the bindings on your wrists, which had to have been a magical artifact of some sort. You had read about items that could immobilize your kind, many of which were created by bedouins in the Scalding Sands.

Those people had become masters at killing vampires, but no one could quite amount to the sheer skill of the man restraining you right now. He had become so infamous among the vampires that tales of him spoke of the fear the mere sight of his silhouette—the large rimmed hat with the pretty feather became a symbol of something to avoid.

“Mon vampire (my vampire)...” he whispered, his breath brushing over the shell of your ear. Rook’s hand was holding you against the tree by your neck. A chuckle slipped past his lips, accompanying the quiet sounds of the night—the occasional rustling of the woods, the soft brush of the wind, “It seems I’ve caught you,” he said, fern-green eyes narrowing. The moonlight made them glow.

Once a predator, now at the mercy of a hunter. The worst part was how enticing his blood smelled. The sound of his pulsing blood seemed to beat loudly in your ears. His neck… pale and ripe—begging you to sink your fangs into it, “Let go of me—you wretched son of a bitch,” You barred your fangs, thrashing against him in an attempt to get out of his grasp, but it was futile, “No one will hear your screams when I—”

The hunter laughed, leaning in just a bit closer, “My screams? You are the one pinned against a tree,” he reminded you, his voice filled with glee. Not an ounce of animosity in sight, in fact, he seemed amused by you. Infatuated, perhaps. Gently, his hand trailed up from your neck to your cheek, admiring your face like he would a lover. His knee slipped in between your legs, and he leaned in closer to keep you pinned, “You are quite beautiful… it is a shame the bounty on your vampiric head is so high, mon ange (my angel).”

Your breath hitched and you tried to get your hands out of the bindings. A heat filled your lower stomach and covered your cheeks, crawling up to your ears, “You—you—” you stammered.

“Ah, quelle beauté!” he exclaimed, his eyes admiring your flustered expression. He chuckled, leaning in so that his nose brushed against yours, the tips of his blonde hair grazing your cheeks, “You’re especially warm for a cold-blooded creature… I am the cause, non?” he asked, but it was clear he did not want an answer. His confidence said it all.

Before you could protest, he began to litter kisses down your face, starting from your temple and ending at your jaw. He squished your face in his hands, forcing your lips to part, “Such pretty fangs,” he muttered, leaning in. His lips parted as if teasing you with the chance of kissing him, his breath crystalizing and intermingling with yours in the cold night air.

Just before you could kiss, he pulled away, smiling like a cheshire cat, “Ah, did you expect a kiss, mon vampire?” he asked, teasingly, “You are still my target, no matter how alluring you are,”

An expression of embarrassment and frustration came to your face and you tried to lift your knee to kick him, but you were only met with laughter and Rook pressing more of his weight against you, “You bastard,” you hissed.

Rook squeezed your face a bit harder in response before tilting his head up and to the side, revealing his pale neck. He relished in the way your eyes immediately darted to the skin in hunger. The blonde was usually doing the admiring, so it was nice to have one of his targets admire him, even if it was because they saw him as a meal, “If I am going to kiss you, I’d like to be able to taste my blood on your tongue.”

[stinkybrowndogs]

Some dog movie observations:

The 1990s to like 2010 seems to be the golden age of dog movies. We got Beethoven (1992), Homeward Bound (1993), Air Bud (1997), 101 Dalmatians (1996), Snow Dogs (2002), Because of Winn Dixie (2005), Hotel for Dogs (2009), Beverly Hills Chihuahua (2008) to name a few that I enjoyed. There is also a slew of B-rate movies that while not as good, still have some charm. I will say I think it helps that cgi wasn’t heavily used in movies until the later 2000s and 2010s, and it is my humble opinion that too much cgi ruins the movies. The more tricks the dog actually does on camera, the better. Bonus points if clever camera shots and practical effects are used instead of cgi.

Anything before the 80s? Questionable animal ethics. (The Animal welfare act was passed in 1966, so really anything before then is… wild.)

Now. As we travel into the 2010s-2020s, we see an uptick in copaganda. (Max, Dog, Rescued by Ruby, and a Dogs Journey are some recent ones). We also see an uptick of Really Bad Movies (think like a dog-BAD. Lady and the tramp? WORSE.) we also see a lot of strange indie films about dogs (white god was….. weird.) this is also when the “air buddies” took off to be their own thing, which has turned into an entire studio that makes Bad Dog Movies (and also shows! Pup academy, phantom pups, and one other one on Netflix. They are Bad)

There are also several with like 100 remakes (lassie, benji, where the red fern grows, like 200 different white fangs smh) so I’m not super sure how I’m going to tackle those….

The most popular dog breeds in these movies are probably goldens, labs, German shepherds, Great Danes (! At least 3 so far; marmaduke, the ugly Dachshund, and Chestnut hero of Central Park), old English sheepdogs (! Surprising but there was a few!) and beagles (again at least a few movies). Also, terriers.

Dobermans, Rottweilers, Beaucerons, and German shepherds are top picks for the antagonist characters, or just as Menacing Dogs

There are several I haven’t watched yet because they are not on any streaming service, and I will have to check my library to see if they have any of them to loan. I am looking forward to the Tim Allen shaggy dog (horrifying poster- dog with human eyes photoshopped on), marmaduke (I remember this movie being terrible), cats & dogs (I remember liking these)

Im tempted to try and make a big long video just. Reviewing all the movies I have watched but that is a massive waste of my time and also I have the personality of a shoe so I’m not sure who would actually be interested in watching it. Much to think about.

[the-toastyverse]

Transformation (5-9-24)

Stanley looked up at the full moon, panting heavily as he began to change. His nails lengthened into claws, long and vicious as they left deep gashes in the soil.

His form morphed, growing larger as Stanley changed, fur spreading across his body. Stanley grabbed at his shirt, tearing the fabric apart.

He gritted his teeth with a groan as they grew, large and sharp. His ears slowly lengthened, twitching as they picked up the sound of faint footsteps.

"Stanley...?" She placed a hand on his forearm, fingers brushing against the thickening fur. "I heard you leave the camp, and I was worried..." Monty looked up at him. "Are you alright?"

"I didn't-" Stanley began, voice changing, becoming deeper and more guttural. He shook his head with a growl as his face took on a more lupine shape. "Didn't want you to see me like this-" Monty hugged him tightly, taking his hands in hers.

"I don't care about what form you take." She spoke, murmuring into his fur. "I'll love you regardless." Monty moved to sit beside him, holding Stanley as he went through the final parts of his transformation.

"...Thank you." He rumbled, leaning into her. Monty smiled, rising up and kissing him on the tip of his snout, before leaning against him again. Stanley looked away, silent before he spoke again. "Mont...could you..." She nodded, smiling up at him.

"Stay with you?" She wrapped her arms around him, hugging him again. "Of course."

[toast-com]

No thoughts just Monty coming home to Stanley, who's her house husband (and a very good one at that).

[bstrdwulf]

grrbarkbark

[edosianorchids901]

A Hand To Your Darkness

@flashfictionfridayofficial prompt - "blind spot"

Aziraphale meandered through the Garden, humming to himself as he plucked berries. He hummed often these days. The Garden was too quiet otherwise, with everyone gone.

He’d been stationed here alone for months now. Orders still hadn’t come from Heaven to move on. It was getting quite annoying.

Ah! He wasn’t alone today, though. Black coils piled on a large flat rock several feet away.

Smiling, Aziraphale headed for the rock. It would be good to have some conversation, or at least company. Crawly wasn’t always in the chattiest mood, especially when he was a snake, but they always had a nice time together regardless of what form he took.

Aziraphale sat on the rock and brushed his fingers across the scales, something he’d done quite often before without it being an issue.

But this time, Crawly struck at him. Fangs snapped through the air, barely missing his fingers.

“Oh! Crawley, that’s very rude of you!” Aziraphale jerked his hand away. “You could have simply told me not to pet you.”

“Aziraphale?” Crawly’s head swung in his direction. “Is that you?”

“Of course it’s me! No one else has been here in months.” Offended, Aziraphale crossed his arms. “What was that for?”

“Nothing. Nothing”. With a soft hiss, Crawly dropped his head back to rest on the coils. “You jusssst got in my blind spot.”

Aziraphale blinked. “You have a blind spot? Is it something to do with snake eyes instead of normal eyes? Granted, you have snake eyes in general, but… in this form?”

Crawly didn’t answer him. And in fact, there did seem to be something different about his eyes today.

“What’s wrong with you?” Aziraphale bent closer, concerned. “Why are your eyes all cloudy?”

He reached out again, then hesitated. It was a natural instinct to touch someone in distress, to try to soothe them, but it seemed that might be unhelpful right now.

“Crawly?” He slid off the rock and knelt in the soft grass, at eye level. Crawly still didn’t answer him. “Please, can you tell me what’s wrong? I’d like to help.”

Crawly’s tongue flicked out, scenting the air. “Why?”

“You don’t have to sound so suspicious.” Aziraphale took a deep breath, trying to settle his own tattered nerves. He ought to remain calm. “I know we are adversaries, but we’ve spent an awful lot of time together. I’d miss your company if something happened.”

“Good a reason as any, I guessss.” Crawly was silent a moment longer. “Yesss.”

Aziraphale thought for a moment. “Yes, you have a blind spot? Where? Should I avoid approaching you from a particular angle?”

“It’sss kinda everywhere. Er. Er.” Another hiss, this time sharp. “I’m getting ready to shed. Can’t really ssssee.”

“No wonder I startled you. I do apologize.” Although he wasn’t sure what else he could do, really. Not without more knowledge. “Shedding what, exactly?”

“My sssscales.”

“Oh. I suppose that does make sense. I-I know some other animals shed fur and such. And we shed feathers occasionally.” Still at a loss, Aziraphale studied the scales. They were dull, not the usual iridescent beauty. “Is there any way I can help? Would you like me to peel the old ones off?”

“Gosh, no. Not how it worksss.” Crawly coiled even tighter. “Ngh. You really wanna help?”

“I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.”

“Coulda been teasing me.”

“Really, my dear. That’s hardly something an angel would do.”

“You and I sssseem to have met different angels. Or something.” Crawly hissed again. “Right. Right. Ssssso. I’m overheated.”

“Ah.” Aziraphale stared at him. “Why?”

“The sssun.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale swept a wing up, shielding him. “Does that help?”

Despite the cloudy eyes, Crawly managed a glare. “I can’t tell what you’re doing.”

“I’ve put a wing over you. Sheltering you.”

“Bet you look really ssssmug about it, too.” Another glare. “I need to get off the rock. Get to a darker ssspot.”

“Like a nice comfy area with lots of ferns?” Aziraphale asked, thinking of a very nice spot.

“Yeah. Yeah. But…”

He couldn’t see well enough to find it, most likely. “I know you won’t be particularly pleased with this idea, but what if I carry you? It’s nearby.”

Another stretch of silence.

“I promise, I’ll be very careful,” Aziraphale added.

Crawly hissed.

“And I shall keep you company after.”

“Nnnnh.” Crawly shifted his coils a little. “Okay. Okay. As long as you’re careful.”

“I promise.” Rising, Aziraphale reached out. “Going to pick you up now. Please don’t bite me.”

“Promissse.”

Not moving too quickly, Aziraphale scooped the pile of coils off the rock. Crawly hissed, but didn’t snap at him, which was rather a relief.

“There. Just going to carry you over to that nice spot.” Hugging the serpent to his belly, Aziraphale set off at a slow, steady walk. “Is there anything else I can do to make you more comfortable?”

“Not really.” Crawly adjusted a little, resting his chin on Aziraphale’s arm even though he wouldn’t be able to see much of the path ahead. “This is good. I was kinda ssstuck.”

“Well, we’re there now.” Aziraphale ducked under the shade of green boughs and sank to the ground. He crossed his legs and placed Crawly on his lap. “There’s all sorts of comfy ferns. You can slither down on your own, if you’d prefer, or I can tuck you in.”

Crawly was silent.

Ah. Aziraphale smiled a little. “Or you can stay right here. I know I’m likely warm, but less so than a rock in the sun.”

That earned another soft hiss. Crawly didn’t move.

The answer seemed to be yes, then. Aziraphale rested his hands on either side of Crawly’s coils, then swept his wings forward to block any wind. There might not be much else he could do for his adversary right now, but he could at least provide a comfortable place for the poor old serpent to rest.

[windelgirl3010]

Es ist Samstag ich habe in den Abendstunden Zeit für mich. Wenn alles ruhig ist kann ich meine Leidenschaften geniessen. Heute ist so ein Tag. Was sehne ich mich danach mich zu spüren. Das letzte mal ist 5 Tage her ich bin angespannt will diese Spannung loswerden.

Jetzt wo ich das hier schreibe ist es 2:35Uhr in meinen Ohren die EarBuds lassen mich Phil Collins Greatest Hits hören.. Against all ods (allen Widrigkeiten zum Trotz)... mein aktuelles Lebensmotto.

Abends blinken ein paar WhatsApp Nachrichten meiner Lady im Display auf... ich bekomme Aufgaben...

Stelle eine Kerze bereit.

Fange an Dich im Stundentakt immer ein klein wenig mehr zu streicheln. Halte inne bevor es zur Explosion kommt.

Mache Dich heiss in dem Du Deiner Lady heiße Fotos zu kommen läßt.

Halte Dich um Mitternacht bereit...

Das wird heiss denke ich mir ...

....

Das Telefon klingelt Sie ist am anderen Ende. Die Situation ist zum zerbersten gespannt. Wir beide ahnen was passiert.

Ich bin heiss ihre Stimme lässt mich beben... Ihre Anweisungen lassen mich feucht werden. Mein Atem wird deutlich schneller und mein Herz klopft mir bis in den Hals.

Meine Hand gleitet in die eh schon feuchte Windel und der Kitzler erwartet meine Hand er ist noch erregt vom Letzten Streicheln welches meine Lady mir gegen 23 Uhr aufgetragen hatte. Meine Haut beginnt sensibel zu werden. Neben mir flackert die Rote Dicke Stumpenkerze die ich mir angezündet habe für den Genuss des heutigen Abends. Das Licht der Deckenlampe ist bis auf 30 % runter gedimmt... Ich lauschen der Stimme meiner Lady. Wie gerne ich Sie doch jetzt hier hätte aber Sie ist ehrenamtlich unterwegs insofern geht es grad für uns beide nur auf diesem Wege.

Die Situation lädt sich Minute für Minute mehr auf... Sie (meine Lady) lässt mich meine Windel öffnen. So liege ich hier und es läuft hin und wieder Schwall Weise aus mir raus... Diese warme Nässe ein Genuss das bin ich - ich spüre mich.

Es kommt eine Anweisung meiner Lady NIMM DIE KERZE... denke nicht nach sondern genieße. Lasse den Wach über deinen erregten Körper laufen.. beginne zwischen den Brüsten und Ende am Kitzler geniesse die Hitze des Wachses auf deiner Haut..

Ich gehorche und bäume mich dem Wachsstrahl lustvoll entgegen der mich gefühlt am ganzen Körper trifft...

Als das Wachs auf meiner Haut erkaltet spannt es und zieht bei jeder Bewegung ein klein bißchen, eine Millisekunde süßer Schmerz, wohltuend. Dann darf der Satisfyer meinen Kitzler genussvoll umspielen. Meine Lady gibt mir die Stufe an in der ich ihn nutzen darf auch da gehorche ich und winde mich auf meiner nassen Windel die unter mir liegt hin und her vor Lust ... ich Stöne, meine Lust steigt und steigt ... der Wille mich zu beherrschen damit ich diese Situation länger geniessen kann ist vollends gebrochen. Es steigen Wellen in mir hoch. Der Satisfyer war auf Stufe 3 5 und nun auf Stufe 9... Ich halte es nicht mehr aus. Die Stimme und die Anweisungen gepaart mit dem Genuss des Satisfyers auf meinem Kitzlers bringen mich dazu mich zum zerbersten der Orgasmuswelle die angerollt kommt wie ein Tsunami hinzugeben. Mein Kitzler ist gross und hart zuckt und ich stöhne mir die Orgasmen aus dem Unterkörper heraus. Meine Augen sind fest geschlossen ich bin in Orgasmus Trance sie sind feucht irgendwie Tränennass aber genau so ist es bei mir wenn ich Orgasmen geniesse ... ein letztes saugen des Satisfyers an meinem Kitzler und ich gebe mich geschlagen ich zwinge mich das Teil dort wegzureißen.... Ich kann nicht mehr bin fertig habe butterweiche Knie. Atme schwer. Meine Augen sind geschlossen. Wo die Stimme meiner Lady noch vor Sekunden fordernd war nicht aufzuhören ist sie schlagartig sanft und fürsorglich. Beruhig Dich .. geniesse das erlebte.. komm erstmal zu Dir. Sie ist ganz nah und doch so fern. Sie kennt mich und weiss mich jetzt aufzufangen.

Phil Collins in meinem Ohren singt jetzt von Tarzan Dir gehört mein Herz ... sehr passend ... mein sub Herz ist verschenkt an SIE und auch sonst ist Sie mir sehr wichtig geworden. Auf meine ganz eigene Art begehre ich Sie jeden Tag ein klein bißchen mehr ....

Ich komme langsam wieder zu mir die Stimmung ist wohlig warm zwischen uns wir genießen es das erlebte zu reflektieren.

Danke meine Liebste Lady @babyladyvivian ein wunderschöner Abend mit viel Genuss neigt sich dem Ende zu... schicke Dir einen Kuss zur Nacht. Ich wandere ins Bad um mir eine frische Windel anzuziehen und noch ein bißchen den Abend für mich weiter zu geniessen ...

🩷Danke😘🩷

[names-for-alters]

Hello one and all, alters and headmates! I am Charlie! I like to make lists! I also hoard names! Are you looking for a name? GREAT! You can send an ask and request a specific aesthetic or origin of name, or you can look at my list!

With that said…

…Cracks knuckles…

Findo Tach Tails Flicker Tracer Kat Iris Blu Brick Arlo Sammy Artie Finn Stein Aleksandr Vora Olive Luna Nyx Cyrus Qrow Orian Cello Onyx Skye Grim Opal Dawn Azure Fish Bones Poppy Bronze Eggs Sparky Specs Snickers Trout Navi Bingo Chili Bandit Stripe Busker Socks Brandy Frisky Winston Lucky Chucky Bently Judo Rusty Max Honey Indie Calypso Striker Merle Moxxie Vex Ant Bugger Bee Spider Tails Hook Indigo Amber Coco Coral Scarlet Ivory Jade Ruby Emerald Chuck Loden Copper Hamelin Neo Shepard Cinnamon Visor Macalister Soul Hack Hiccup Flynn Rider Astrid Jay Raven Robyn Bolt Dagger Viper Tracer Cornwall Flock Sapphire Crystal Ghost Mochi Trick Catra Rose Raven Flip Chani Racket Red Crimson Dragon Runt Scotch Tellie Gator Croc Crow Goat Duck Creeper Kuma Jet Jeep Draco Poppy Sombra Raine Squish Spike Blaze Ender Drake Sandy MK PJ DJ CJ MJ King Creak Shadow Clay Dusty Miles Dart Willow Antonius Husk Moth Cypher Jin Yin Yang Daisy Gray / Grey Alistair Halo Angel Cake Fennec Fox Null Lull Bastion Lucky Sun Star Cosmo Tweety Vox Nerys Sonic Bark Birch Oak Cherry Blossom Peaches Velvet Shell Coffee Valley Fang Moot Redpath Pudding X V Jr Ether Fig Trunk Joy Frogger Snowflake Snowball Snow Jumper Racket Flare Vendetta Loonie Coin Six Eleven Tropica Stelina Mojave Ink Sud Fender Zero Pollen Wysteria Page Ozias Rex Tortch Buck Nickel Stripe Lynch Tramp Wolf Pup Tank Jhariah Kharma Zenith Sparrow Prism Lemon Mune Lamb Pyke Diamond Parker Graves Fizz Nugget Melody Tink Blight Fangless Ambress Vulture Eclipse Luka Bangle Constance Constantine Sommar Babble Clank Bobble Chipper Aidan Slate Tin Twire Zephyr Silver Misty Faunus Atlas Birdie Brook Cedar Chip Coal Daisy Ember Faye Fate Fern Flint Harmony Helios Ivy Junx Kit Lyria Phoebe Piper Lady Beacon Elos Rumble Ida Cross Zed Scootie Smidge Clauger Happy Sonny Hath Soldier River Song Clawtor Videl Legen Onen Chunk Reid Pop Cobra Cash Clover Saris Volante Donna Belladonna Gale Chopper Morphias Vidia Loft Kape Levi Licker Howl Dustin Newt Creek Breezy Polaris Blight Archer Sirius Warren Dream Goon Cookie Ranger Amity Jericho Viggo Besko Asra Alice Olaf Mossfeld Issic Missy Rascal Creasy Nonya Hex Pita Miguel Manuel Rayburn Daisy Dash Lucky Becky Steele Cylo Featherstone Kingston Netherfield Reacher Saltburn Quick Rubble Dust Brimstone Humble Ado Grover Norvanos Leshy Blade Cooper Calcium

Leo

Leonardo

Lebony

Silver

Linzier

Pearl

blackberry

Tatin

Bud

Raphael

Pebble

Mina

Linda

Oolong

Daeo/Dayo/Dao

Inco

Ketlyn

Risa

Ines

Lora

Flock

Lux

Rix

Reah

Destinty

Bet

Ange

Krixa

Lalien

Gloom

Bug

Rozy

Mars

Screech

Jenny

Robert

Patrick

Pierre Rosemary

Henderson

Mayfield

Sinclair

Sullivan

Hart

Solace

Daughtler

Stoll

Gatlin

Yearwood

Amos

Graves

Rothschild

Halley

Spektor

Presley

Redd

Blackwood

Notvletti

Valerie

Milo

Marian

Lychee

Aiden

Nova

Vel

Bel

Yuri

Puro

Pluto

Ramona

Angel

Nada

Shen

Mog

Hania

Udge

Kinetic

Kikos Wathel

Dupa

Sierre

Jimor

Teddy

coc

Scara

River

Shade

Foenem

Duck

Emily

Toast

Reunna

Ichigo

Rae

Sonic

MoonL

Lennus

cabaran

Marto

Leveer

Granite

Tongle

Gavril