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#i think that’s intimate enough
koolaidmansb1tch · 7 months
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Quick petition for fanfic writers (specifically of anime)
If Y/n is pregnant with his child, let’s not call him by his last name.
I’d think they have an intimate enough relationship at that point to call him by his given name.
Or if they are Married.
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vellichorsdesire · 7 months
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messily drawn ragapom i am so sorry for the inconsistencies…
extra:
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djevelbl · 2 months
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Quick question — what's the appeal of Colly/Runestraw?? Like /genq, no hate to anyone who wholeheartedly and genuinely ships it, I'm just curious about what made ppl want Cup and Holly to date
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lord-squiggletits · 2 months
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Saw someone say "Megatron and Optimus barely interact in IDW1" and that feels like a very has-only-read-MTMTE thing to say kskdodndd because like sure they didn't co-star in the same long running series for 50+ issues like other characters did (like MTMTE characters interacting with each other or exRID or WB/TAAO) but to say they BARELY interact??? They interact a lot both in superficial "blah we're fighting a war" ways and in super lore important moments/series and also in incredibly homosexual there-is-no-straight-explanation-for-this moments like
Off the top of my head these are some series/storylines/issues where they interact directly. Defining interaction as anything from "the whole story is about them" to "their interaction is a plot element but not necessarily the main focus" to "they interact but only for a few lines":
The Autocracy trilogy (Autocracy, Monstrosity, Primacy)
Stormbringer
All Hail Megatron
The Transformers ongoing 2009 (with emphasis on Chaos Theory and Police Action for the most gay moments)
That one issue where Megatron grabs OP's spark through his chest Mortal Kombat style
Dark Cybertron
MTMTE (past OP in Elegant Chaos, Functionist Universe OP, and current day OP during Dark Cybetron and Megatron's trial)
And then there's other times where IDW1 Megatron and Optimus aren't in front of each other interacting/speaking with each other but are still thinking of each other:
The prelude to Dying of the Light where OP hears the LL distress signal and is afraid (not explicitly for Megatron but like he put Megatron on that ship)
MTMTE, Megatron tells Ravage that something he said to Optimus was the turning point of how he viewed himself
MTMTE again, Megatron all but says aloud that he made Tarn into Tarn to spite Optimus
One of the GI Joe crossovers where Optimus symathizes with a Joe over what it feels like 'to believe in someone who everyone else sees as past redemption' while an image of Megatron is literally behind him in his thoughts
So like, IDW MegOP has plenty of canon interactions and even if not all of them are very long moments (i.e. are only a few lines alluding to each other) there's still plenty of interactions between them. Plus I would say that it's pretty powerful how even the small, blink-and-you-miss-it dialogue moments actually indicate that Megatron and Optimus view each other as focal points where different decisions/beliefs they had revolved in some way around the other person. I think it's cool and compelling that IDW Megatron and Optimus express so often (even if only in thought) that the other person shaped who they became, or THEY did something specifically in reaction/spite towards the other, or where something they did to the other troubles them and lingers in their minds.
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larkoneironaut · 1 year
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I had a dream that I was going on a ball and Solas was there, I tried to ignore him in like a shy or flirty way? And then that delicate, intimate touch when I was walking right past him … I’m never gonna forget that dream, I had to sketch it 😭
Pls ignore that Solas' scar is mirrored, I'm an idiot
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silkjade-archived · 1 year
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“woven in the fabric of your tapestry / cover me in honeysuckle memories”
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unknownarmageddon · 4 months
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Nightmare plays a relevant part in it btw so
Nightmare hears news that her brother has found and taken in XGaster's doomsday device and is trying to make it dormant, so she sends Killer to go get it. Neither of them realize that he's a person, so kidnapping him gets much harder. Once taken to Nightmare, it's basically a series of trying to figure out Cross' triggers and how to "work him" as well as a series of fights between Cross and Killer and also Cross trying to convince Killer to escape Nightmare with him.
Cross' like. Doomsday activation look- I drew it, but basically, he sorta melts and there's like magic smoke burning off him. So activation would like. Kill him. And it starts melting him a bit if he gets riled up.
And I got this idea from Wreck it Ralph
OHHHH oh that fucking rules actually holy shit. so so rad AUGH
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bonyfish · 10 months
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more Caper and Karlach!
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anarkhebringer · 2 months
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Zenos, who is relying on vague advice about "love languages" after hearing his boyfriend mention a cheesy obscure eroge a single time while he was in the room
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hesbianyaoi · 5 months
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i love snarky bitchy atsushi all around but the atsushi i love most is volume 1 atsushi that was incredibly weirded out by dazai. you can just feel how exasperated he was already. atsushi was not fucking with him
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skitskatdacat63 · 9 months
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This is a special genre of f1 picture(to ME.)
#ive talked a lot about helmets lately oops#i guess i just rly have an obsession with how they're an extension of the driver#and a representation of them and their only sense of personality and individuality when theyre all geared up#so theres something to me about the separation of helmet from driver like in these pics#of course theres pics of the helmet on its own for model kinda pics(like all the pics i used for my past project posts)#but this is its own genre. helmet doing its own thing. helmet away from the vicinity of its owner#helmet being protected from the elements. it has its own carrying bag. it gets an umbrella. etc etc#the first pic made me on the lookout for pics w a similar vibe. IDK WHY BUT IM RLY OBSESSED WITH IT#having a severe helmet fucker era </3 i look at these and i feel very weird about them 😭#not included cause its a differnt genre but also thinking abt pics where someone other than the driver themselves is holding their helmet#theres something weirdly intimate to me about it. its too reminiscent of that one painting of the germanic warrior holding the roman helmet#<- DO YOU GET WHAT IM IMPLYING HERE.#anyways. i digress. helmet being taken care of and protected is cute to me#its such an extension of the driver so its kinda funny ig that they get their own photoshoots#also yeah these are all nando helmets bcs i couldn't find pics from other drivers that i thought had the same vibe#and i think its interesting how these correlate with whom the photographer is and the level of popularity of the driver#like are you popular enough that someone will see your helmet apart from you and think its important enough for a pic?#and its so interesting comparing pics from the same time from different teams#bcs you can see how different the motivations of the different photographers are based on what the pics are like#well blah blah blah helmet kink blah blah blah#f1#formula 1#fernando alonso#helmet
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shitouttabuck · 1 year
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wip wednesday
tagged by @rewritetheending @onward--upward and @alyxmastershipper 💓💓💓
i haven’t reeeeally started writing anything other than planning this out broadly because it’s very plot heavy but got a little lost thinkin about the intimacy of shaving the other day so this is from x files au in some shitty shared motel room while they’re cryptid hunting or chasing aliens idk we’ll figure it out
When he emerges, hair towelled dry and in clean clothes, Eddie frowns at him. “What?” he asks. “Promise I didn’t finish all the hot water.” “No, you just look—” Eddie gestures at Buck’s face, “—scruffier than usual.” “Oh,” Buck says, running a hand over his day-four stubble. “I forgot my razor.” “Oh,” Eddie’s face clears, “just use mine.” Buck swallows. “Um. Okay. Thanks.” Eddie nods at him and goes back to squinting at his phone, so Buck about-faces and re-enters the bathroom. It’s not a big deal, he tells himself as he foams up his face. It’s like—like sharing a hairbrush. Intimate, sure, not something you’d tend to do with people you don’t know well, but it’s not a big deal.  He wets the razor and brings it to his throat, heart hammering there so violently it feels like his Adam’s apple is trying to get out. If his hand doesn’t stop trembling he’s going to nick himself, and God, he is being absolutely fucking ridiculous. Deep breath. The razor glides over the thin skin of his throat, muscle memory even as he stares at himself in the mirror. Doesn’t think about Eddie doing this every morning, using this very razor. Blade edge kissing his jaw the same way it kisses Eddie’s. Doesn’t think about Eddie doing this for him, hand holding his chin as he shaves Buck carefully, grip firm when he turns Buck’s face this way and that. Doesn’t think about Eddie kissing where the blade kissed him first.  Doesn’t think about any of that when he rinses the razor clean and slots it back into the travel mug, where Buck’s toothbrush rests against Eddie’s with such easy familiarity it’s about to spark a whole new crisis. 
tagging @try-set-me-on-fire @jeeyuns @housewifebuck @anxieteandbiscuits @forthewolves @zahlibeth @athenagranted @buckactuallys @transboybuckley @icecreampotluck @diazblunt if you have anything to share today or later!
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livsmessydoodles · 2 years
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when mike and will finally argue about the painting after having so many little intimate moments between them throughout s5 and mike says "why did you do that? friends don't lie, will!" and will is so tired of dancing around it that he replies "is that really all we are?" and mike goes silent... then what
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whomeidontknowthem · 24 days
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Eyes on me – an interactive whump story. Part 5.
Previous part. Masterpost.
Content: institutionalized slavery, imprisonment, dehumanizing language, it/its for an inhuman whumpee, pet whump, whipping, blood, physical abuse, withholding of food, training, torture, intimate whumper, carewhumper, mentioned pet death, tell me if i missed something
Lord Teelo didn’t strike. 
He lowered his arm, eyes never straying from holding the creature’s terrified gaze. The room reeked of blood, now streaming down the lord’s fingers in a warm waterfall. He worked hard on pushing his fury back, taking it under control as many times before. He was in control. He would show it, careful and persistent and levelheaded. He would make sure it remembered the lesson forever. The crop was not meant for punishments, it was too short, too soft – he hadn’t meant to punish it. He was going to be a kind and gracious owner. It had left him no choice!
He opened the door, finding the redheaded guard still in the corridor.
“Get a proper whip,” he ordered. “More chains – gods damned handcuffs, whichever idiot thought of leaving it like this?! And a knife, scissors – or whatever, something to file its atrocious claws.”
The guard stared at him, not in the face – at his arm. Lord Teelo felt it – the consistent drip-drip-drip of his blood. He didn’t feel the ache yet. Nothing but the quiet, cold fury he couldn’t wait to unleash at the world. Haltingly, the guard started, “Should I bring someone to take a look at–”
“I have told you what you should do,” his voice came out as a hiss.
“Yes, my lord,” the guard saluted and hesitated only a moment before running down the corridor. 
Lord Teelo closed the door with a loud crash. He paced inside, steps echoing around the room, as the pain slowly started to radiate out. He hated it. Oh how he wished he could slice the thing’s skin just this moment, not waiting for anything and anyone. He picked up the crop once more, stoped before the creature – it cowered to the very corner between the wall and its cage, never letting its eyes away from him. Oh, now it was looking. It dared to look! 
“You think yourself smart?” the lord hissed. “Think you did something good for yourself? Oh, no, you’re gonna regret this. You’re gonna regret this so much.”
The pain seeped into his consciousness with every heartbeat, radiant and nauseatingly familiar. He held a handkerchief to the cuts until it filled with deep red. He threw it away – it landed in a wet disgusting lump on the table, by the bowl of wet disgusting meat. Oh how the lord had tried to be a nice host, how he had tried to accommodate this, this– 
“Damned, ungrateful, hateful beast!” Lord Teelo roared. The glass of the bowl nearly slipped from his bloodied fingers when he grabbed it, and then shattered to thousands pieces to the side of the creature’s head. Its dinner fell onto the floor, useless. Oh, it wouldn’t get any, it would have to work, to beg for any crumb from then on – it would regret, regret it so much!..
The door slid open soundlessly after a short knock, letting in the heavy footsteps and the clanging of metal. The lord turned on his heels, facing the guard. “And why in the world have you not brought a damned healer!” he hissed. “Can’t you see I’m bleeding out!”
The guard blinked. “But you have–” 
“YOU DARE ARGUE WITH ME?!” 
He was struggling to breathe, chest heaving with effort. The blood was still warm down his arm, still bright on the broken glass and light wood of his floors. How could the idiot not understand!
There were chains in the guard’s arms and a leathery length of the whip. Lord Teelo snatched it and demanded, “Chain it up!” The guard hesitated, opened his mouth. “NOW!” 
He did. The lord watched as he came to the beast, careful with his steps, cautious of it. It squeezed itself deeper into the corner. Lord Teelo could see it shaking. He was delighted to see it shaking. The guard reached out, the first cuff prepared, and Lord Teelo watched from a step away as it lifted its hands up, close to its chest. Its teeth were bared, pupils wide and eyes wider. It tried saying something, but what came out was only a mess of sounds with no meaning. 
The guard squeezed its arm even as it tried to avoid it. It whined and fought back, tried getting out of the grasp, tried pushing him away, tried and fought and struggled as he cursed under his nose. Its claws went through the skin of his palm ripping out a sharp hiss. It managed to raise its hind leg as the cuff clicked around its wrist, its claws scratching against the metal in an effort that only delayed the inevitable. 
Lord Teelo had little patience left. He stepped forward, connecting his heel with the middle of the creature’s tail. It yelped, flinched backwards – its head connected with the wall, and before it could regroup the second handcuff was in place. After that, restraining its legs was only a matter of time.
“Turn it around,” the lord ordered. Chains clang as it fought in an ever increasing panic. “To the wall, yes… yes, just like that.” The locks rattled, forced closed. The guard let the key fall onto the ground, forcing the creature to kneel. It hid its tail between its legs, whining as its head was pressed into the wall. “Is the chain short enough? Will it be able to move?”
“I don’t think so, my lord,” the guard answered. 
Lord Teelo played with the whip, trying it out. “Good. Go fetch the healer– wait. I need – something sharp, something – to secure on its tail. See how it hides it? I need something it can’t hide from.”
The guard looked puzzled. He eased his hold in a test, and the creature threw its whole weight backwards, fighting the chains. They held. Kneeling, with its tail hidden and only back visible, it looked strikingly like a human. “Perhaps clothespins, my lord?” It wasn’t what he had in mind. What he wanted – it wasn’t that. Not this easy, tame solution.
“It would work,” he drew out. He would go to the smith when he had time. He had an idea, oh, that would be a genius idea. “Just this once."
He flexed his left arm and rubbed his right. It hurt as all deaths, but it had stopped bleeding. He failed to crack the whip the first time but managed it the second, inches from the creature’s back. The guard bowed, taking it as a sign to leave. 
The creature mumbled and mumbled more, sounds a meaningless mush falling from its tongue. If Lord Teelo was generous, he could see it as an apology; he would not even entertain the possibility of giving in to it, of course. 
The second crack was right by its ear. It flinched and curled up further but couldn't hide.
It wailed when the whip connected with its back – so loud, so quickly, taken by surprise. Lord Teelo bared his teeth in a smile and struck again, violent purple already flowering on the gray of its skin, and struck again without waiting – three, four, six, twelve hits in a row, as it flinched and writhed and cried out.
He paused afterwards, and saw as it tensed, first, its whole body shaking with the effort of breathing, hiccupping in what sounded almost like sobs. He waited, watching how it trembled more and more. He let it marinate in the anticipation, the fear coiling and coiling with no release, the stinging of its sore back growing as its patience ran thin. 
When it raised its head, just barely, as if to look, the whip snapped through the air again. 
It screamed out. He didn’t give it time to recover. 
The lord hit it with no pattern, pausing and continuing at his leisure, until his arm grew heavy with pain and the creature nearly silent. Lord Teelo could only hear its labored breathing, air forced out of its body with every strike. Its back bloomed with purple that gave way to red when the skin opened, the new lines covering the rainbow pattern in an unstructured, repulsive mess.
Oh, he nearly pitied it, trembling pathetically in the corner. Then he rubbed his arm and the sharp pain was enough to remember why he didn’t. 
He struck for the last time, lazily, with his left, and then a few more for a good measure. When a polite knock announced the guard’s return, he felt pleasantly tired, like after a good work out. He called out for the man to enter. 
The guard did and the healer, an old woman the lord knew for most of his life, followed in. She looked the room over with stony, unreadable expression, and Lord Teelo met her gaze with a nice enough smile. “You’ve got your toy,” she stated and that was all the attention the creature got from her. 
She made a quick enough work of the wounds: cleaned and bandaged them up after applying that miraculous numbing cream the lord appreciated since early childhood. The creature would appreciate it even more, he thought, glancing at the pathetic thing. It had shifted at some point, stretching its legs just a bit but keeping its head hidden. Its body shook violently, trembling so much it in itself looked tiring. 
“Should I look it over?” the healer suggested, all business. 
The lord huffed, “What would the point of a punishment be then?” 
The woman looked him over with that annoying, unreadable gaze. “Call me whenever you change your mind,” she bowed and left when he dismissed her. 
Lord Teelo tried the clothespins with interest, forcing the spring to coil and then letting it go softly around his finger, just a tad, until it started hurting. “Good enough,” he concluded finally and got up. 
The creature flinched when his boots stopped by its form but didn’t try anything. “Poor thing,” he drew out and crouched, ran his fingers along its back lightly, brushing fingertips over the painful ridges of future bruises. Its breaths hitched, but it didn’t make a sound. “And all you needed was to not act like a brainless brat to avoid all this. You have no one but yourself to blame, silly thing,” he told it. It didn’t answer, shivering under his touch but not attempting anything stupid. 
“But maybe you can learn,” he hummed and moved his hand down to where its tail started. It tensed even further, if it was possible at all. “Let’s just make sure the lesson sticks, huh?” It curled up even further as he tagged on its tail, releasing from under the creature’s body. He flickered it back and forth and rubbed between his fingers and was satisfied when it sobbed and shuddered but remained motionless otherwise. 
“Like this, yes,” he muttered. With the softest touch of his second hand, he stoked its head. “But look at me now. Eyes on me,” It didn’t understand. He caught a fistful of its fur and tagged. “Eyes on me.”
Too drained to resist, it lifted its head as he guided it. “Eyes on me,��� he demanded again, and it either guessed or truly learned – its gaze settled on him, focusing to the best of its ability – and, oh, what a pathetic mess it looked, eyes bloodshot and wet in ways he’d thought only a human's could be, dark lines from where it pressed into the floorboards marking its cheeks. There was something red around its mouth – did it bite itself, the poor thing? 
Lord Teelo clicked his tongue, smiled softly and released its fur. It settled back instantly, curling up again. Its tail remained in his hands. 
He picked up the first pin. 
It must have assumed at first that he was just playing like he had been, – at least, it didn’t seem to tense up too much, nor expect the sharp pain when he released the spring around its tail. It shuddered, head whipping up, staring at him once again. He smiled. Picked up the second clothespin. 
It tried to get its tail free – oh, it tried as much as it could without hurting him, but he tightened the grasp and played with the pins as it couldn’t help a new whimper, and hushed it and urged it to sit still. “That’s for you to remember the lesson better,” he told it pleasantly. It must have cried, body shaking again, and tried to kick just once, the movement stopped halfway through by a short chain. 
Lord Teelo wondered how many pins would be good for it – should he go with the whole set the guard had brought? He settled on five, at the end, a nice even number not even halfway through what he had. He was feeling rather merciful and forgiving, and it sounded just so pathetic. 
He called the guard in to urge it into the cage when it was done. It didn’t even try fighting, following the man's tagging and pushing until it was inside, drawing its limbs close and curling up to fully fit. Nearly immediately, its fingers itched towards the pins, human-like thumbs ready to work on the problem. Lord Teelo snapped his fingers to get its attention.
“No,” he said, words dripping with finality. He reached through the bars and tagged its tail outside. “The clothespins stay here for the night,” he told it. It probably didn’t understand – there was so little thought in its eyes. He let go of it hoped for its sake it understood what he meant. He didn’t want to have to punish it so soon for their lack of common language. 
When he went to sleep, the shaky breaths and the rare clanging when it tried to settle more comfortable sounded like a lullaby to his ears.
In the morning, his arm stung mercilessly and unendingly, and no melodies of birds and gentle sunrays could make his mood better. He turned lazily, letting his eyes fall onto the cage. The creature was curled inside of it, eyes shut tight and ears flickering restlessly. Its tail fluttered too, freed at some point from the pins, one of its hands curling around it protectively. 
Lord Teelo felt stuck between endearment and irritation. He moved and the cuts on his arm ached, and irritation won. 
“Hey… you,” he called and realized he hadn’t come up with a name. He should think about it as some point, he decided grimly, and banished the thought of the last pet he’d named, back in childhood. That was a just a cat, a stupid spoilt creature with too much attitude. The lord remembered the way it looked, painted red and unmoving, after crossing one too many lines. 
The creature didn’t move at his call, either. He picked up an extinguished candle from his bedside table and threw it towards the cage. “Hey!” 
There was no reaction. With an undignified groan, he forced himself on his feet and towards the cage. He rattled the key across the bars, the way that always seemed to get the creature’s attention.
It didn’t react. It was outright ignoring him! 
Had it learned nothing?!
He reached through the bars and tagged on its tail, finally getting some response in return – it flinched weakly and grimaced. Slowly, its eyes fluttered open, but didn’t settle on the lord. They looked as if through him, unfocused and dizzy, and a pang of worry cut through the just rage when they closed back and its chest heaved, struggling for breath. 
Something was wrong.
He reached through the bars and towards its forehead, forgetting for a second it wasn’t a human. The skin under his fingers was blasting hot and sickly wet. It moved closer to his fingers, all but nuzzling against him. 
Something was terribly, terribly wrong.
Updates every 7-10 days (depending on how much time I have and how obvious the poll result is) (unless something goes wrong and it takes me too weeks to get myself to write something. I'm so very sorry about the delay!)
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confused-stars · 4 months
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never start shipping something as a joke unless you want to end up staying up until 4am writing about them
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rotisseries · 1 year
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everyone debates about elmike like oh they're the best of friends no they would never hang out on their own they don't even know each other, when the true answer, much like everything else about them, is that there is so so much and also nothing at all
#they're like siblings. not like. freakishly sweet siblings but like. normal siblings you know?#like a sibling is the most distant person you're ever close to. the most intimate stranger#we aren't in each other's lives by choice and if we could choose we probably still wouldn't choose each other#but also I absolutely can't live without you#I would confide my deepest fears and wants and secrets to you and you find that same confidante in me#but we never talk to each other about our interests and we don't care to hear about them either#everything about elmike is just so. everything and nothing#I love you enough I'd die for you and I don't know a thing about you#you're such an inescapable part of me but we're not even friends#like a blank wall in an otherwise filled bedroom#even though you make up a part of the structure of one of the most intimate spaces in my life there's still nothing of me there#like. do you get it. actually does this make any sense. I think I'm just saying shit#alright wrap it up guys everyone go home this post is actually just nonsense maybe#this is actually about how I view elmike in general though like they're everything and nothing they're so interesting and also so boring#like it's about the insaness of the fact they love each other that much they truly do albeit not romantically#but they don't KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT EACH OTHER. THEY'D DIE FOR EACH OTHER THEY DON'T EVEN KNOW EACH OTHERR#THAT'S THE TRAGEDY. THAT'S THE FUCK OF IT ALL#but also at the same time it's so boring because actually it's just every other bad middle school relationship#where you both haven't realized you're gay yet#so. elmike. everything and nothing#stranger things#el hopper#mike wheeler#elmike
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