#ITS BEEN. A HOT SECOND
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princema-k · 5 months ago
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Detective Layton, Case 1: The Living Museum
Our story begins for our detective and her assistant at The Natural History Museum; reports are pouring in from visitors all over that the exhibits have come alive! Dinosaurs walking, artifacts randomly moving, and paintings blinking and melting before everyone's very eyes! Naturally, it's up to the Detective Layton and Emmy to solve the case once and for all. Can they solve the mystery of the Living Museum?!
(au info/flora | emmy)
(PLEASE IGNORE THE FACT I SPELLED MUSEUM WRONG IN THE PIC OK TAHNKS)
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chloesimaginationthings · 4 months ago
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FNAF teen Michael tries to cheer up teen Vanny,,
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brotato-chibs · 8 months ago
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kaeya sketch!
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tangledinink · 8 months ago
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welcome back to our program! and welcome to arc two.
✩ the gemini ✩ [ start ] [ prev ] [ next ]
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theegh0st · 8 months ago
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mokadevs · 5 months ago
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miss wolf girl
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casualavocados · 1 month ago
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Fire Fist Ace...is now free!
PORTGAS D. ACE & MONKEY D. LUFFY ONE PIECE Ep 480
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valeovalairs · 1 month ago
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how I’ve been drawing them as of late (before they went to fantasy land and completely changed their designs except vyncent cause he’s perfect as is)
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turtletoads · 2 years ago
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croc and his little pets ft. his pink boy toy
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wrathevil · 28 days ago
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wrath likes the jester. how original..
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s0fter-sin · 2 months ago
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ghost who was chemically castrated by roba and soap who wants to help him to regain his sexual autonomy
nsfw, angst, roba, unnegotiated unsafe but consensual gun play, hopeful ending
💀🧼
ghost walks like it hangs low.
there’s a tilt to his hips and a spread in his thighs and johnny’s never been able to stop staring.
and ghost’s never asked him to.
he knows he’s seen him; he’s not exactly discreet. he swears he’s even seen him cock his hips out before to give him a better view. but he always pulls back just as they toe the line; verbal cold water on the tentative heat they almost can’t help but spark when they’re together.
it’s never a no; johnny’s not so selfish of a cunt that he’d push when he knows he isn’t welcome. it’s always a reluctance; an “i wish i could,” never in so many words. an open ended “but…” as ghost circles the reason without ever actually saying it. johnny knows it’s something personal, something more than a difference in rank could ever excuse.
so he backs off when ghost does, jokes instead of flirts and holds his breath through the agonising wait until ghost lets him in close again. waits to know if he’ll let him close again.
it’s almost anticlimactic, the end of their dance; his delicate steps and looping logic to work out why bulldozed as ghost comes out and says one random night, “i can’t fuck.”
it’s not bitter. it doesn’t grate coming out of his throat; he doesn’t spit it like it’s something to be ashamed, not twisted with insecurity as if it’s an accusation by an ex.
it’s a statement of fact.
“you can’t fuck,” johnny echoes anyway because even if it is the reason, the big why… it still doesn’t really answer anything.
“i can’t get it up,” he elaborates, this horrid blankness in his eyes like he’s reading from a script. “whatever you’re looking for, whatever you want- i can’t give it to you.”
johnny just looks at him, the chill air prickling his skin. “right,” he nods calmly. “because my interest in you starts and ends with your dick.”
that blank calm shatters. “johnny…” he warns.
“do you really think i’m that shallow?” he cuts in, curing himself for the way his voice breaks but he never thought ghost would think so low of him; that this whole time, ghost’s thought that’s the only thing he wants from him. “like i’d take you for a ride ‘n just drop you?”
“there’s a difference between not gettin’ it for one night and never gettin’ it at all,” ghost growls, turning his back on him to lean against the edge of the roof. his shoulders heave and the anger seeps from him in one long breath. “it’s not a hitch, johnny. not a performance issue or ptsd or whatever the fuck you’re thinkin’. it’s permanent. irreversible.”
irreversible.
johnny stops, cold creeping up his limbs and dousing his defensive anger. ghost is many things and when it comes to his words, chief amongst them all is deliberate. he didn’t say it’s unfixable. incurable.
irreversible.
johnny buries his selfish hurt and scuffs his boots, an unobtrusive warning of movement, and comes up beside him; just enough distance between them to catch their breaths. he leans back against the ledge and looks over the opposite side of the roof at the dark sky.
“mexico,” he murmurs. not an accusation. not even really a question but ghost collapses in on himself anyway; sinking into his crossed arms digging into the ledge.
“mexico,” he agrees just as quietly. “‘pparently, roba found it more entertaining to let me keep it but- cut the cords. more demeaning that way; cock’s gone, at least you don’t feel the urge. don’t have to look at the fuckin’ thing hang there when nothin’ fuckin’ works.
“it’s not ‘bout how i see you, johnny,” ghost promises and it’s almost apologetic. “but you like sex. eventually, you’ll want it. and i can’t give it to you. easier to just… not let it get to that point.”
johnny’s jaw flexes. everything in him wants to reject it, wants to protest that something as trivial as an orgasm is more important to him than ghost.
but he also knows words are useless here.
they stand there looking out into the gathering dark, tense silence hanging between them, and the only thing johnny knows is if he isn’t careful, he could lose the one person he cares about most.
💀🧼
ghost’s been uneasy since his abrupt confession.
he knows it was sudden, borderline cruel to dump his shit on johnny with no warning but he just couldn’t take it anymore; couldn’t take the back and forth when he knew it would never go anywhere, couldn’t take johnny’s hope when he knew he’d have to watch it twist into disgust and pity.
into disappointment.
he figures that’s the end of it; there’ll be no more flirting now, no more staring or heated looks, no more teasing him by spreading his knees out just to see the flash of hunger in his eyes. the control he felt playing with johnny knowing it was welcome, just because he could- he’ll never feel that again. not now that johnny knows the truth.
then he steps into his room to find johnny laying naked on his bed.
he’s not spread out like an offering, not throwing him some cheap sultry glance as he plays with himself. he’s not even hard; his cock limp over the cradle of his balls, his legs bent loosely together, arms under his head as if he’s settling down for the night.
ghost sighs and shuts the door behind him. “johnny…”
“i know,” johnny says and it’s gentle; not cutting him off, just getting his attention. “just… hear me out?”
there’s nothing else to say. there’s nothing johnny can say or do to fix his violated body. but ghost still crosses his arms and leans back against the door like he can anyway.
johnny pushes himself up and off the bed, closing the distance between them but still giving him enough space to breathe; to open the door behind him, to escape.
“i can never know what was taken from you,” he starts and ghost’s fingers dig into his arms. “i can never know what it means to you. and i can never get it back.”
he doesn’t break eye contact and slowly lowers himself to his knees. “but i can give you something else.”
“you?” ghost guesses flatly and as much as it warms his blood, as much as he’s imagined having johnny look up at him just like this… it’s still not enough to offset the sickening swoop in his gut when his cock doesn’t so much as twitch.
“i’m a nice bonus,” johnny purrs but his smile remains gentle. “but i’m not the main event.”
he lifts a hand and ghost readies to smack it away when he reaches for his thigh holster instead of his belt. he flicks the closing strap open and pulls his handgun, his favourite, free.
“you told me you can’t fuck,” he murmurs, popping out the clip. he taps it against the side and loads it back in with a practiced hit with the butt of his palm. “but fucking isn’t all there is.”
“johnny, what…” ghost starts just to cut himself off as johnny thumbs off the safety and loads a round into the chamber.
“you trust me?” johnny asks and it’s as loaded as the gun in his hand.
good then, that ghost knows the answer. “always have.”
johnny’s smile blooms with warmth, with pride, and it chases away any reluctance he could possibly feel. he lets him take his hands in his, wrapping them around the gun with his finger on the trigger guard. he brings the barrel up beside his temple, holding it steady before his hands fall away.
until it’s only ghost between him and a bullet.
johnny’s hands go to his belt, his movements slow enough for ghost to stop him long before he reaches his cock, forever hanging limp in his pants. but he just rubs the muzzle along his temple, almost nuzzling him with the gun as he pulls down his jeans and boxers.
he waits for johnny to take him in hand, maybe try and pantomime a handy, and his hips almost recoil at the thought.
but he doesn’t try to touch him.
instead, he takes his wrist and guides the gun to sit in front of his cock; angling it to follow the same slight curve he has then holds his hands behind his back like he’s standing at attention. he splays his knees wide, sinking deeper and ghost sucks in a harsh breath as johnny ducks under the gun; his eyes locked on his as he curls his tongue under the barrel and brings it into his mouth.
it takes every ounce of will he has to not let his hand shake around the gun as johnny gives it the slowest, messiest blowjob he’s ever seen; slowly rising higher on his knees, guiding the gun up with him as if it’s his cock hardening. his cheeks hollow as he sucks, tongue laving up the barrel and flicking out to play with the muzzle like a cockhead, moaning with every bob of his head until saliva drips off the metal and makes a mess of his chin.
ghost’s never felt so powerful as he does watching johnny hang off the end of his gun; watching his cock harden and drool between his legs without a single touch, knowing he could pull the trigger at any time and johnny would not only let him but he’d thank him.
the thought breaks him from his paralysis, drawing the gun from his lips and johnny immediately stills; rolling his wide eyes up like he’s trying to check on him. ghost pushes every ounce of heat into his gaze and cocks the gun to the side, slowly pushing it back in until johnny’s lips meet the trigger guard.
johnny whines as he fucks his mouth, thrusting his hips along with each long drag like the gun is an extension of his body; almost too rough as tears prick his eyes and his lips redden and bruise but he never asks him to stop; his cock leaking a puddle on the floor beneath him.
“you gonna cum for me, johnny?” ghost croons, holding back a groan when just his voice is enough to make him shiver. “gonna cum with my fucking gun down your throat?”
he gives a broken whimper, as close to an agreement as he can make, and ghost crowds in close. he grips the base of his mohawk, wrenching his head back until his throat is flush to the front of his thigh. johnny lets out a choked cry, eyes rolling back and he doesn’t hold back as he brutally fucks his face; feeling the bulge of his gun in his throat against his leg.
“come on, johnny; you wanna be my good little holster?” he growls and makes sure he’s watching as his finger moves from the guard to the trigger. “then take my fucking load.”
he forces the gun as deep as he can and johnny gags, his shaking body locking up as he cums untouched; painting the floor and ghost’s boot, cock twitching and pulsing hard enough to bump against his belly and leave a string of cum threading from it to his cock.
ghost watches him spasm and moan, his throat convulsing around the gun and a heated knot of satisfaction tightens in his gut; so close to the memory of an orgasm, he’s almost dizzy with it.
johnny slumps forward, his hands slipping from behind his back, and ghost quickly flicks the safety back on and drops to his knees. he slides the gun away and pulls johnny forward to collapse into his chest, taking his weight off his knees; his whole body trembling with aftershocks.
“you’re crazy, johnny,” ghost whispers, awed, and feels him smile against his chest.
“aye,” he agrees, voice raspy from his gun scraping up his throat. “how else am i supposed to prove that i mean it?”
ghost tries not to tense up; tries not to let hope sink its cruel roots into his chest. “mean it?”
johnny pulls back, his cheeks still flushed and sticky with spilled tears. “i’m yours, ghost; in any and every way you’ll have me,” he promises. “sex or no sex. this can never happen again and i’ll still never stop wanting you. it doesn’t matter to me as much as you do. you’re everythin’ to me, ghost. not your body; not what you can give me. just you.”
a knot crowds in his throat. “and you needed to deep throat my pistol to prove that?” he deflects.
and just like always, johnny lets him. “worked, didn’t it?” he winks. “you fucked my brains out.”
ghost rolls his eyes to hide the softness he knows is flooding them and helps johnny up and gets him into his shower; cleaning him of the sweat and cum and spit covering his body.
that ghost covered his body in.
his chest hitches at the reminder as he strips himself down to a single layer and all but falls into bed, tugging johnny in after him when he hesitates just slightly at the edge of the bed; splaying his still naked body over him, sated and loose.
“i really do mean it,” johnny whispers into the crook of his neck sometime later; when their breaths have settled and synced.
ghost sweeps his fingers up and down the length of his spine, skin he’s never seen. skin he now knows every inch of. “i know you do,” he whispers back.
and for once, he thinks it might be enough.
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chloesimaginationthings · 8 months ago
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Cassidy loves to scare the FNAF night guards..
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the-kipsabian · 1 year ago
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saw a take so fucking rancid on twitter i almost deleted the entire app from my phone jesus fucking christ
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first of all ao3 is an archive site. this is like going to the library and saying "oh i dont like this" on every piece of media you find that you dislike and thinking they should be stamped with some sort of a marker just cause you didnt like it
you can always click back and leave. fic writers owe you nothing to explain themselves and their creations. if they have mistagged or miscategorized fics, then i understand, however there are report tools for that instead of yelling at the artist tbh
im not saying free works arent necessarily above criticism. but this is just. fucking wild. its common courtesy to just enjoy stuff (or fucking leave if you dont, the back button is free) and if the artist specifically asks for critiques, then give one - constructive that is, shitting all over someones work is not proper criticism, mind you
i just find it fucking wild people are treating art and archive sites as social media these days like this and everything needs to be policed and ~catered to the algorithm~ like. no. ao3 doesnt have an algorithm. you should be able to fucking tell what you like and what you dont like and steer away from that kind of content and let people fucking be with their art. they dont owe you anything (except trigger warnings i'd argue, but i know some people disagree with that as well for some reason), and imagine how much more energy you'd have if you only engaged with things you liked and spent time looking at instead of going to places where you dont enjoy yourself. let alone spending time telling other people you dont enjoy what they enjoy. what a fucking life
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tangledinink · 3 months ago
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theory, (or stating the obvious?) the reason Leo’s shell is now a gardening project is his real one was horrifically damaged and needed a full makeover to not die. Hooray for Fay magic!
Bonus points if my wild more speculative guess of Leo having memory loss (not including JJ trivia) including the invasion and his family to some extent being on the money, lol.
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full marks on the theory~ but alas, no bonus points or extra credit this time...
leo very much remembers the invasion and the events leading up to his displacement to the feywilds. and he is very much aware of the absence of his brothers.
[ ⚘ clover crown ⚘ ]
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davonati · 2 months ago
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They make love out there in the field, before David has to leave for good. It’s fast and messy, with both of their emotions running so high. Yonatan comes with the taste of David’s tears on his tongue.
He stays lying on his back in the grass until the sound of crunching footsteps finally fades away, and only realizes later that, in their utter desperation for each other, he’d forgotten to take any of the usual precautions. But by then, it’s far too late.
***
Four months later, he goes to see David at Horesh. Even in the dim light of the hideout, David looks at him oddly.
“Something’s different about you,” he muses, and Yonatan has to stop himself from reflexively clutching his belly. He’s not showing yet, not really, but he can feel the life growing inside him.
He expects David to approach him then, to explore the planes of his body as he’s done countless times before. He readies himself to tell David the truth, to finally feel the weight of this secret lift off his shoulders. But David comes no closer. He eyes him for another moment and then turns away, pulling out a large map of the Judean territories as he updates Yonatan on his group’s movements over the last few months.
It’s better this way, Yonatan decides. David has enough to worry about at the moment without concerning himself with Yonatan’s health, and there’s no guarantee that the baby will make it to term anyways: it’s not as if Yonatan is willing – or able – to confine himself to bedrest for nine months. When David returns to Giveah, Yonatan can reevaluate the situation. Most likely Yonatan will never need to reveal his mistake; best case scenario, David will have an heir to secure his lineage as he ascends to the throne.
***
Years later, as Yonatan lies bleeding out under the stars, his last thought is to wish he’d gotten the chance to tell David about their son.
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aliciarose-art · 2 years ago
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Happy Gon Day! I redrew a thing from 2018 to celebrate 💖
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