teddynoir

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Dytto - “Barbie Girl” Dance

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a piece from my sunrise on the reaping wolfstar au, go read :,)

read When Again Your Eyes Open, the Sun Will Rise on ao3.

ac: sophithil

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Write it shitty, write it scared, write it without a clue but don't you be so spineless and have an AI write fanfic for you.

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"what's the appeal of drag kings" because women are my favorite guy next question

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Its alive…ITS ALIVE !

Referenced from this Frankenstein illustration from 1983 by Bernie Wrightson

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cure of ra

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When a fic doesn’t fit my head canons but it’s well-written

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Me in 20 years, coming home from my long day of work to my loving wife and two kids:

“It’s so nice to have you home at dinner. You never get to eat with us.” My wife states. She’d just made dinner for our family, as I’ve worked grueling hours for the past two decades in order for her to stay safe and comfortable at home.

I comically tug at my collar, a thin film of sweat builds upon my brow bone and I struggle to reciprocate the enthusiasm.

“What’s wrong, my dear?” She asks, removing her lipstick as she sits down for dinner.

“I’m just, uh, feeling a bit under the weather?” I stutter, trying terribly to contain my secret. My true desires.

“Oh my goodness!” She runs to me, placing the back of her hand to my forehead to feel my temperature; lucky for me, the prior mentioned sweat helped to defend my claim, “well, I guess you should lay down.”

I agree with her in a way that feigns sadness. Sure, I feel a tinge of sadness with her disappointment at the absence of her husband, but there are things the greatest of men are forced to overcome. I tighten my gaze as I prepare to climb the stairs, a soldier being sent out to battle.

As the stairs are climbed by me, I feel fear trickle over my preexisting fear. But it’s a new, different fear. Different in the way that I’m not scared of being caught, but scared of what I’ll find. Scared of what I’m currently leading myself into; a commander to his militia.

My hands shake as they press the hard wood of the door, gently turning the knob and hoping Megan didn’t notice I went to the home office instead of our shared bedroom. The door shuts behind me, echoing louder than I thought possible, a noise louder than I have power the produce. With quiet, trembling hands, I turn the stainless steel lock before closing the deadbolt.

I turn to the other side of the warmly lit room. Despite what the aforementioned lighting suggests, the room is cold. Empty, besides two things.

A plant, old and dried up sits in the corner; dead from lack of care. Next to it sits our villain. Or perhaps, our true hero.

The home computer.

I gasp as it turns on independently of my touch. I hear myself mutter disagreements. This isn’t who I am. I’m a hardworking family man. I go to the game with my son. I volunteer at his school.

The words die on my tongue. I’m pleading to a god of a different kind, one I do not believe in but cannot resist, cannot peal my eyes from.

I hear the computer booting up internet explorer on the blue and white screen. For a moment I swear the computer is coming closer, leaving its place on the mahogany desk and squaring up to attack me; angry from my sins. My lust.

It takes only one more moment to realize this is not the case. No. No, no. NO! It was not the mechanical angel, built and adapted to do MY bidding, it was me. I was moving closer.

With an unsure ache in the pit of my stomach, I pull out the swivel chair, seating myself within its smooth, leather flesh.

“Here goes nothing,” I mutter with false confidence. And with a single click of the mouse, my destination is very clear:

“Hobbit sex, here I come.”

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Princess Thorin and Bilbo

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WAH!!

twitter/ insta/bluesky/ store

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So there’s this breaker box 😂

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Alexandre Schoenewerk, La jeune Tarentine (𝟣𝟪𝟩𝟣)

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Cant have fucking shit in Detroit