#[replies]

[bigfatbreak]

So wait, is it Mari's song luka is hearing but its distorted cause of her transformation? Or is he just straight up hearing the kwami thingy hovering over marinette?? (Sorry i forgot what the raccoon kwami's name was)

he can hear imago's overwhelming melody, but can't make out what the fuck it is. it's basically like hearing boss music without seeing the boss

[dlight98]

We played this song at our wedding reception

the new dj crazytimes song … now that’s what I call music!

[bigfatbreak]

You gonna give Mari a gun😃?

tbh no but someone else gets one. dont worry about it

[bunabi]

Thank you for your commentary about Veilguard. You're very thoughtful and full of kind, constructive criticism. I'm very tired of seeing OG fans be called "tourists" (or even fake fans!) for not finding Veilguard perfect. Your commentary makes me feel less alone. I wish you a wonderful New Year's.

Yeah I try not to look at what's happening outside my personal bubble lol. Treating anyone whos put 300+ hours into Dragon Age like they don't know what they're talking about is silly.

Criticism & venting is fine. I only ask that folks direct their frustrations to the right places.

Have a great new year! 🥳🎆

[housewarningparty]

🤎 multiple kisses / kisses all over / kiss after kiss

For amberpricefield?

Alright this one is straight up filthy. Dedicated to you, anon, of course but also @stagrunner bc it's basically inspired by an ask he sent me ages ago (find it here) that I always wanted to do something more with

-

“You’re doing good,” Rachel’s voice floats down like snow, like something ethereal, melting over Chloe. She can barely make sense of the words, groaning around Rachel’s fingers in her mouth, shoved between her teeth, pressing down on her tongue while Chloe drools and gulps around them.

The words aren’t for her anyway.

They’re directed at Max, settled gingerly between Chloe’s thighs, gaze flicking up between Rachel’s eyes, Chloe’s face, the place where the dildo is pushing past Chloe’s entrance.

“She’s taking it,” Max’s voice is shaky, breathless with disbelief. 

“She can take a lot more than that,” Rachel says breezily, shoving her fingers harder into Chloe’s mouth making her gag and snap out of her trance, sucking harder, flitting her tongue in between Rachel’s long, beautiful fingers. “Isn't that right, Priceless?”

Chloe nods, dumbly, tries to say “yeah” around Rachel’s fingers but only manages a goofy sounding “yuh” that makes her laugh, and then dip down to kiss Chloe’s ear.

Max, reassured, applies a little more pressure, the dildo slipping further into Chloe. A little over half now — it’s not one of the big ones Rachel likes using on her, they didn’t want to give Max any other reasons to get too into her head over this. It still feels good, though, especially when Max looks up at Chloe again, catching her eyes and there’s so much love in her expression, so much concern and warmth and tenderness that Chloe keens around Rachel’s fingers.

“Is that okay?” she asks, quiet. She’s asking Chloe, this time, not Rachel.

Chloe nods, tries leaning up to kiss Max but finds herself trapped, pinned against Rachel’s chest by the arm wrapped around her torso. She whines and hears Rachel scoff against her ear before she takes the hint and slips her fingers from Chloe’s mouth, making sure to drag a trail of warm saliva over Chloe’s chin in the process.

“Kiss her, Max,” Rachel suggests, letting her spit-slick fingers fall to Chloe’s nipple to tug on the barbell running through it, immediately coaxing a high, helpless whimper from Chloe’s throat. “She’s practically begging for it.”

Max nods, leaning in dazedly, the motion finally bringing the last few inches of the dildo the rest of the way inside Chloe. She doesn’t move her hips, but it still feels so insanely good. Max’s strap filling her pussy, Max’s tongue in her mouth, Rachel’s tits pressed against her bare back, Rachel’s hands toying with her tits. She’s surrounded, drowning, overwhelmed by their attention, their desire for her. It’s enough to make her eyes feel hot, her throat tight, to make her start rolling her hips against Max’s before she even gets a chance to start thrusting on her own.

“Look at that,” Rachel murmurs, and Chloe can feel the way her lips curve into a smug smile against Chloe’s neck. She bites down hard, making Chloe hiss into Max’s mouth, then covers the place she’d bitten with her lips, sucking hard enough to bruise. “She likes it, Max. She’s ready.”

Max seems to appreciate the guidance. Chloe tries to control her breathing when Max breaks away, tells herself that Max is probably at least as overwhelmed by all of this as Chloe herself is. The only person in the room that seems to know what the fuck they’re doing is Rachel, which is unsurprising.

Then again, Chloe’s pressed into her body as well. She can feel how hard Rachel is breathing, can hear the slightly manic edge to her voice. The energy radiating off of her is incredible — Chloe’s not sure she’s ever seen Rachel this turned on.

But it’s hard to focus on that for long when Max starts moving, Short, shallow thrusts punctuated with slow, deep kisses that steal Chloe’s breath.

“That’s it,” Rachel breathes. “You’re doing good, Max. You can go a little harder, it’s okay. Yeah, like that. Watch, look, look,” Rachel’s fingers slip from Chloe’s tits down to her clit, swollen and needy, and swipes the pad of her thumb hard directly against it, making Chloe groan and squirm, half hating it, half wanting more. “Did you hear that?”

Rachel does it again and Chloe moans through her clenched teeth, almost choking on the sound.

“Work her up a little more and a few of those will get her to come like crazy,” Rachel says. “If you’re feeling mean, that is. She likes it gentler, too.”

Her fingers are back, gliding gently against either side of Chloe’s clit, softer, just the right amount of pressure after the rough treatment a moment ago. Chloe’s eyes flutter, her head lolling back against Rachel’s shoulder, breath coming in soft, whiny gasps. “Rachel…”

“Shhh,” Rachel presses a kiss to Chloe’s sweaty temple. “I’m talking to Max.”

Max has finally found a rhythm, going harder like Rachel suggested. Her arms are shaky, her pupils blown wide, breath coming in uneven pants, the pale, freckled skin of her chest, neck and face all flushed. Chloe feels dizzy looking at her, can’t believe that she’s getting to see this side of her, that Max taking her like this, that Max wants her like this.

“‘m gonna come,” Chloe warns, voice slurred with pleasure. Just like that Rachel’s fingers disappear from her clit, drifting back up across Chloe’s belly, splayed over the skin possessively.

“Hang on,” Rachel says. Then she shifts against her back, leaning over Chloe’s shoulder a little, long hair falling forward to tease Chloe’s bare skin. “C’mere.”

It’s an awkward angle for kissing, but Chloe’s not about to let that stop her. It’s been hot, having Rachel’s voice in her ear, talking about her but mostly ignoring her while she tells Max how to fuck her. It’s kind of a headfuck, how scared Chloe’s always been of being ignored by Rachel, being dismissed, but how absolutely crazily turned the fuck on it makes her like this. Still, nothing compares to this, Rachel’s full attention, undisguised, like a beam of sunlight heating her up from inside.

Rachel kisses her and kisses her, barely letting Chloe catch her breath and then her fingers are playing over Chloe’s clit again, one on either side, rubbing up and down but squeezing a little here and there. It makes Chloe’s breath catch in her throat, makes her whine and writhe and buck her hips up against Max’s.

“Chloe,” Max breathes out, her fingers on Chloe’s jaw, tilting her mouth away from Rachel’s.

Chloe barely has a moment to draw another dazed breath before Max’s tongue is in her mouth, then her teeth are closing around Chloe’s swollen bottom lip, pressing down sharply, once, twice.

Max pulls back and then Rachel is there again, sucking Chloe’s throbbing bottom lip into her mouth. Then she tilts Chloe’s head away and Max and Rachel are kissing over Chloe’s shoulder and it’s so hot, Chloe loves them so much, she groans and jerks her hips hard enough to make Max gasp into Rachel’s mouth.

Max kisses her again. Rachel kisses her. Back and forth, over and over, lips on Chloe’s lips, or on her neck, sucking her earlobe, scraping bites against her collarbone. She loses herself in the pleasure until it builds and builds and builds and she shatters under the power of it, coming with a sound like a ragged sob torn out of her throat, Max breathing out a reverent “oh my god,” against Chloe’s mouth, with Rachel’s Cheshire cat grin unspooling on the curve of Chloe’s shoulder.

When it’s over she sags, boneless, shocked by her own exhaustion as she watches Max pull out and wrestle the harness off of her hips.

“You gonna do anything about that?” Rachel asks Chloe, nodding to Max crawling back onto the bed with them.

“The spirit is willing, but the flesh needs at least a fifteen minute breather,” Chloe says, panting. “She’s all yours.”

Rachel grins with as much perkiness and enthusiasm as one could expect from a bossy maniac who just got to live one of her biggest fantasies and hasn’t yet gotten an earth-shattering orgasm out of it. She kisses Chloe tenderly on the temple again and eases Chloe off of her lap, back against the pillows and reaches for Max.

[fennecfoxdavid]

Y'know, my personal headcanon about this blog is that somehow, there is an actual fennec fox involved behind the scenes.

Maybe they run the blog, maybe the fox is a paid model, maybe just a friend who helps recreate the DT photos, the public will probably never know.

I mean in not saying you’re right but also it’s true that no one has ever seen me and a fennec fox together in one room sooooooo…

One of life’s great mysteries 🙂‍↔️

[quinngefail]

QUROP? HINGUBEEKEELEEK! JJJJJJJJJAAA!

This ask put one image and one image only in my head, so 😩 ENJOY

[blueteller]

How many times have you read tcf? You're always so insightful about the character dynamics & lore it leaves me awed 😭

Why thank you so much, you flatter me! 💖

Part 1, from beginning to the end? Only three times in total, so far. I definitely plan a re-read in the near future, alongside with fresh TCF Part 2 content. I got busy with my new job(s) and lots of my planned fan content got delayed because of my busy schedule, but this has been a very productive year for me overall. I hope to give it my all next year.

Particular fragments from TCF, on the other hand? I must have read the Sealed God's Arc on its own at least 3 additional times, same with the Maple Castle. I spontaneously read some arcs or searches for particular scenes from time to time. My all time favorite must be the Indignity Test in the temple, I even made a fanart of Dodam; I must have read that part at least 6 times by now. I love it so much. And that's not counting reaction fics, lol. I'll have you know that I devour any non-shipping, non-angsty fan content like a starving animal hahaha

TCF is simply a gift that keeps giving, my friend! I just love this series a lot.

Have a wonderful, merry Christmas!

[rubyfunkey]

Gay /pos /hj

which part is the half-joke the gay part or the pos part. my friend hannah wants to know

[bob-artist]

Since the Canada griffin was proudly mentioned recently I figure it can’t hurt to ask if you do happen to have plans to design Canada griffin goslings at some point in the future? (muse permitting)

I DO NOW.

I present to you

honklings

[queermania]

Wait are you really pro-ship?

back in my day we just called it minding your own business

[shesnake]

some of us just don’t want to read problematic white authors so ao3 is our only option 🤷‍♀️

oh there is no saving youse

[bigfatbreak]

If Duusuu is a fae does that mean all the kwamiis are fae in the changeling AU? If so can you show us what more look like?

its weird how lucky Marinette is, huh?

[cy-lindric]

Your stained glass window vest is STUNNING! Are you willing to share your pattern, or its source if it's available for purchase?

Thank you ! I'm going to take the opportunity for a permanent answer post to this question since I've given the pattern in dozens of comments ever since I started posting about the project, but obviously that isn't a convenient way for people to find the information !

Tracery Vest by Kathleen Sperling aka Wipinsanity on Ravelry and on her own website

As you can see the shape of the garment itself is a bit different from what I did. The ribbing in the original makes for a nice fitted silhouette, but I'm quite short in the burst and not hourglass shaped at all, so I made some alterations. I reduced the corrugated ribbing to half of its length, and added a few rows of colourwork to close the ribbing lines into an archway pattern. Then, I added one repetition of the windows at the bottom of the pattern chart, before returning to the pattern instructions as if I'd just finished the ribbing section. I also changed the bind-off in pattern into a stretchy bind off in order to keep the armholes and neckline a little looser. I also added a central double decrease every other row for the vneck.

There you go ! Def more info than you asked for but I hope you don't mind me using your ask as a jumping-off point.

Cheers everyone !

[koryxx]

#if someone wants to be a cunt to you they will find a way to do it in professional or unprofessional speak#this conversation feels very much like when my parents taught me table etiquette#to this day i ask why can i not put my elbows on the table#who does it offend and why#arbitary rules are stupid

had to add the last person's tags because !!! thank you!!!

i was scrolling through the notes on this post feeling like i was losing my mind, because everyone is just so hostile over people not adhering to completely made-up arbitrary social conventions and rules about how to be "good" and "polite" in the most meaningless ways.

it reminds me of when the internet lost their collective shit over someone asking if the food their neighbor surprised them with fit their dietary restriction, because "the polite thing to do" is just accept food a stranger made for you, even if it could make you sick or kill you, even if you throw it away or give it to someone else, even if it leads to your neighbor making you more food, even if you have to lie to their face and continue to do so.

it makes me wonder how genuine anyone ever is, especially when it comes to interactions with people they don't already have a close or personal relationship with. because everything everyone does is seemingly a result of their fear of being perceived as rude and their strict adherence to rules of politeness that no one can actually explain.

why is performative politeness more important than genuine kindness? why can't we all just assume people are coming to us in good faith and respond in kind, rather than determine how we respond to one another based on our perception of and assumptions about their intentions ("if you don't say xyz, i'm going to assume you don't actually care and thus not take you seriously/be as helpful").

it must be an interesting cognitive dissonance to slam people for your perception of them being disrespectful and rude, then turn around and say you literally ignore or dismiss people and what they have to say based on writing style (or even typos and language barrier, because how do you someone is intentionally not following the ~proper rules of writing an email?) how is that not worse than, say, writing an email in all lowercase?

not to sound like a boomer, but I need some people to learn how to write emails in a semi-professional (at the very least) format so you're not cold emailing a business/potential employer/any other stranger about formal matters in the exact same way you'd DM a close friend on instagram

the formality/language can loosen up in the email chain once you've established a rapport and you match the other person if they're being less formal, but please don't have the very first email you send a stranger be written in all lowercase ultra-casual sms slang with no greeting or signature and a billion emojis

[housewarningparty]

🖤 / Fuffy / Glass

em, you're diabolical

cw: cancer

-

“Buffy?” Faith’s voice is tentative, soft.

“I’m okay,” Buffy says, perfectly calm. There’s no reason to freak Faith out. She needs to hold it together, needs to stay— 

The glass shatters before Buffy even realizes she’d picked it up, a spray of shards erupting from her fist like sharp, dangerous confetti. Her palm is sliced to shreds and there’s blood, suddenly, and no, god, no it’s all going wrong. 

She lets go of the shards and suddenly Faith is there, a hand on her wrist, whispering in her ear, soothing nonsense — it’s okay, we’re alright, it’s okay— as she guides Buffy’s hand to the sink, under the faucet. Buffy barely feels the cold water, barely feels the pain from the wound, just stares at Faith’s hands guiding hers, so carefully, spreading Buffy’s palms flat, rinsing the wound, gently brushing away stray pieces of glass.

In a daze, she lets Faith settle her at the kitchen island in one of those stupid, too-high bar stools Faith thought were so badass looking (“They remind me of this dive I used to go to.”). Faith wraps her hand in a towel, holding it tight against her until the bleeding starts to slow.

“Do you wanna go to the hospital?” Faith asks.

Buffy wants to scream.

Surprisingly, she laughs at the irony. Giddy, hard laughter that, judging by the way Faith flinches, is probably kind of manic and scary. Buffy’s not sure at what point the laughter turns to something else, but suddenly she can’t breathe through the snot in her nose, cant’ see through the tears blurring her vision.

Faith is right there with her, the hand not staunching Buffy’s bleeding is cupping Buffy’s jaw, dragging her forward. Buffy doesn’t expect the kiss, not when she’s gross like this, ugly-crying and falling apart, but she can’t bring herself to pull away. She leans in, struggles to catch her breath and kisses Faith desperately, like she might not get another chance to do it.

“It’s okay,” Faith whispers, shushing Buffy gently, kissing her again and again, soft, soft, soft. “We’ll figure it out, B.”

“You can’t figure out cancer,” Buffy bites out, hating herself for how harsh she sounds, but hating Faith a little too for having the gall to say that to her of all people. Not when Buffy knows better.

“Doc says it’s treatable,” Faith protests. “Chemo and maybe a surgery. Other stuff too, maybe, I don’t know. They’re doing some more tests. Plus, y’know, with the slayer stuff — I might have a real shot.”

Might.

Buffy wants to crumple to the floor. She wants to wail and scream. Make a pact with a demon. Fix this. Undo this.

She wants to wake up.

“I don’t wanna tell a bunch of people yet,” Faith says. “I wanna know more. But I couldn’t keep it from you. I just… Fuck, I wish I wasn’t doing this to you. I’m sorry.”

“But you quit,” Buffy protests, as if she can reason their way out of this. Faith hadn’t smoked a pack of cigarettes in at least three years. “You don’t even…”

Faith shrugs, offers a helpless, little wobbly smile that doesn’t meet her eyes.”Day late, dollar short.”

“Will you take this seriously?” Buffy snaps.

“I think you’re taking it serious enough for both of us,” Faith says, smiling infuriatingly when Buffy scowls at her.

“Faith, please…”

“I know,” Faith says. She reaches across the counter to yank a paper towel off the dispenser and offers it to Buffy, waits patiently for her to blow her nose before continuing. “I know what this is to you. I wish it was something else. I wish…”

“I don’t know if I could take losing you,” Buffy says. It hurts to even say it out loud. She thinks of all the time they wasted — five good years together since the fall of Sunnydale, since they figured out what they could mean to each other. It’s not enough time. Buffy hasn’t been able to love her long enough.

“I’d put a bullet in my brain,” Faith says, so suddenly, so bluntly, so matter of factly that it startles a laugh out of Buffy. “I’m dead serious. But you’re not like that, Buff. You were always stronger than me. You’d make it.”

Buffy shakes her head. She hates where this is going, dreads the thought of continuing the conversation, of arguing with Faith over whether any of that is true at all. She doesn’t feel strong right now in the least.

Faith must read something of it on her face because she leans in again and kisses Buffy once more. This one is deep, lingering, sweet. When she pulls away, Faith is breathing a little shakier but smiling. “We’re getting ahead of ourselves. You’re not giving up on me this early, are you, B?”

“No,” Buffy says. She swallows hard, past all the fears crowding her chest, the ice cold terror that hasn’t let go of her heart since Faith said the words Hey, there’s something we gotta talk about. But she means it. Faith needs her to say this. Needs her to mean it. “No, I’m not giving up on you, Faith.”