#Idk how I feel

[rwsdarw]

Hello, i have a little, tiny prompt for you: adrien calling Nathalie "mom" (and Gabriel watching that)

yeah sure!

[a-lilypad]

i wanna know what kind of crack starkid put into the rogues medley because why can i not stop listening to it on repeat

[scrollonso]

Forgive Me, Father (6/??) (23k words)

As loyalties shifted, it felt like a moment of reckoning, where paths split and trust in a mentor faltered. Bez found himself drawn to a darker path, enticed by Marc's persuasive words promising a new direction.

One

Two

Three (smut)

Four

Five

Six (smut)

[francixoxoxo]

saw your post about wanting to write about other characters and you should write finnick with reader who’s really stressed about school, this is totally self indulgent lol so if you didn’t feel up to it i totally understand!! btw i love your work sm :)

Omg I love this school has been stressing me out SO MUCH lately too 😭🫶🫶

Studying usually wasn’t this bad. Last semester went rather smoothly; perhaps going into this one assuming it’d be the same was your downfall. It’s been hours of this.

Your skin is hot, your hair is straw that no scythe can manage, your eyes are stinging, a knot is growing where your pencil digs into your middle finger’s knuckle. You want to scream, and you want to cry, and it’s all so very overwhelming. Maybe you could quit, maybe, but—

A cool palm lays on your shoulder, callouses scratching your bare skin. “Honey. All good?” Finnick murmurs, bending to drop a kiss into your hair. A deep breath expands your chest.

“Yeah.”

“You sure? It’s been, like.. two hours since you’ve walked outta here.” You hear in his tone more than see him cock a brow, he looks around your shared bedroom. Rubbing your hand down your face, you sigh again. Finnick turns, leaning back against the desk. He brushes his hand along your cheek a moment, tucking the other under his arm.

“It’s just…” You mumble, Finnick’s presence crumbling your resolve with hardly an ounce of effort. “A lot.” You manage after a moment. Your boyfriend’s hand lowers, sliding down your arm to wriggle the pencil from your iron-grip, replacing it with his hand. You clutch onto him with the same vigor.

Finnick hums as if he gets it, nodding and chewing on his cheek. “One of those days.” He offers. You nod, rubbing your temple. You reach for your pencil again, hoping this little check-in by Finnick will give you a bit of a boost to finish studying. But he plucks it from your hand, setting it aside. You want to protest as he moves around you, leaning over you to fold your notebook, putting away your textbook. But you don’t.

“How about a little… break?” Finnick cooes, turning your chair. You don’t protest to that, either, atleast not verbally. You do wince at the prospect of slowing down for even a moment, of putting off any of this work, and he can tell. “Come on, it’ll be a nice reset. You need a minute to relax.”

“But I have so much work—“

“It’ll still be here.” Finnick reminds you, his brows lifting as he leans closer to you. His fingers find a loose strand of hair each, tucking it behind your ears. His palms cradle your face, as familiar and soothing as if your cheeks were molded to fit into his hands.

You sigh, closing your eyes. Finnick takes this as a go-ahead, because when your lids flutter open, he’s giving you a beaming grin, wrapping his arms around your middle and hoisting you up, over his shoulder. You gasped, whipped your head around to watch as your desk becomes smaller and smaller, notebooks, textbooks and study guides sitting menacing atop the mahogany. Finnick brings you into the hallway and you’re spared the sight. “Where are we going?”

“The beach!” Finnick laughs, you can only imagine the winning-grin plastered on his face. His hand wraps ‘round your waist, resting on the cusp twixt your lower back and the slope of your bottom. You have to admit, even dangling upside down from Finnick’s arm, thrown over his shoulder as he kicks open the porch door, sea-breeze filling your nostrils— it’s a hell of a lot better than being cooped up at your desk.

[supercutofbuck]

woke up in cold sweat… they’re doing something… something is happening… a chill goes down my spine… i check my phone…

the last five years is going to broadway!!

hold on… what’s that…

Nick Jonas.

[mangogoop]

His reaction to my maid outfit art on stream i'm legit crying

THE SHEESH I CANNOT GOD

[everyfandomsprincess]

I just heard Universal is making a live action ninjago movie and I’m screaming crying throwing up

[knoockies]

quick little sketch, bc i wanted to try a new shading technique

[skyrim-forever]

Trying to make Azura’s star but i can’t tell if this looks good 😬

[chryblossomjjk]

…

[nonbinary-sticks-the-badger]

we're using snapcube quotes unironically now??? yeah??? yeah.

[capnseriouslycanadian]

baby’s first roadtrip 🛫 (via NYR on twitter)

[partlysunny15]

I don’t think I like the agggtm show 😐 slightly disappointed

[meaningtotellyou]

.

[tword-dickchomper]

How would you feel about being a little tickle toy where you're lying on your stomach, hands bound, thighs, legs and toes tied in a position to give a forced footjob because your soles are getting wrecked by the very hands of the cock your feet are involuntary jacking off with your ticklish squirms?

I haven't seen this until now um oh my god iwkdjsnnxdmnxx

[karmacansuckmyd-ck]

For my fic, word 7777 is ‘body’. I swear I’m sane

(How tf am I this far along after only 2 months? Btw this doesn’t count how many words I’ve written for the plot alone… but like, how am I this on track?)