#Otherwise there will be no tumblr left...

[newwavesylviaplath]

i'm actually tweaking rn guys i just wanna go to bed but hugh looked so fine in those pics and also i have this thing where i can't find a guy (celeb or otherwise) hot if i find out he has a partner idk it's some psychological thing thats lowkey why i left the evan peters community after he started getting serious with natalie i don't know what's wrong with me cuz it's not like i think i have a chance with these men it just feels disrespectful to be interested in them when i know they're with someone anyway im not sure what this means for newwavesylviaplath's future in the hugh jackman tumblr community i guess we'll have to see how i feel tmrw

[syluss-karaoke-teacher]

Love and Deepspace - Nightly Rendezvous - Part III, Rafayel

Third part is up!! Rafayel and Sylus are my main boos, and I absolutely adored Intertidal Zone and the sensuality of it. This (and Sylus' upcoming one) were written wholly after the cards had dropped, so it's more faithful to the card's plot, but still with my own interpretation and imagination sprinkled in hehe.

Word count: 2248 words

MDNI! Tags and main text under the cut. You have been warned.

NOTE: This fic is only posted on tumblr and on AO3 under the pseud Yuli_Hunter. All other uploads on any other websites are non-authorized. I do not own any part of Love and Deepspace as an IP, but I do own this piece of fanfiction, and you are not allowed to repost it, copy it or otherwise claim it as your own.

That's it, enjoy! ❤️

Tags: reader!MC, fem!reader, PWP, fingering and oral (f!receiving), PIV, what do you mean I'm starting to repeat myself with these tags?

Not beta-read we die like Grandma

~*~*~

The bathroom is quiet, and the water in the tub is warm. After the blazing desert sun you thought you would never want to feel warm again, but the sudden snowfall, along with having to leave Rafayel to his own devices, reversed those thoughts. You sigh and lean your head back against the edge of the bathtub. You are not quite sure how long you have been here. After you woke up in the hotel parking lot the rest of the evening has been a blur. Your thoughts have been occupied by Rafayel so completely that at times you could have sworn you heard his voice in the empty room. The look he gave you before you left… You are sure you could spend an eternity gazing into the beautiful nebulae of his eyes and still not unveil all the mysteries hidden there. Today you would have wanted nothing more than to envelope him in your love so completely that you could have erased whatever sorrow held him captive. Alas…

You shift in place and the water splashes higher on your chest. The goosebumps it causes makes you realize how lukewarm the water has turned. You see that the falling snow has piled up on the windowsill, and decide it’s finally time to leave. But to do what?

You dry yourself with a towel and wrap it around yourself as you step into the bedroom. As you circle the room aimlessly you spot your black cocktail dress from the first night of your trip. It’s laying on the backrest of an armchair, carelessly tossed there after, well… You had tried to make Rafayel feel better on your first night here. You blush a little as you inspect the garment. It’s the only fancier dress you have with you for the trip, and you could have worn it to the art salon as well if not for Rafayel’s insistence to go alone. Seeing that he is yet to come back, your options are either to wrap yourself into a bathrobe, order room service and watch a movie all by your lonesome or use the opportunity to dress nicely for your own sake and eat dinner at the wonderful hotel restaurant. You turn the dress around for a moment longer before making up your mind.

Your push-up bra hangs discarded on the armchair along with the dress, and you slowly ease it and the dress over your still damp skin. Afterwards you go looking for a pair of fresh panties from your suitcase, only to realize that your suitcase isn’t in the walk-in closet where you left it. You frown at the row of men’s shirts hung up in there and idly wonder how Rafayel has packed so much again that he feels the need to spread his outfits into your room too. It wouldn’t surprise you to find his paintbrushes in your makeup box next.

The suitcase isn’t in the bedroom either and at this point your tired brain starts to catch up. You go into the bathroom and stare at the vanity table. Cologne, a silver razor with shaving cream, hair mousse…

“Oh.” No wonder you only found this one dress and bra in the room.

Suddenly there are noises coming from the front door, and you walk towards them without a second thought. As you are almost out of the bedroom you come face to face with Rafayel.

His eyes are upon your face instantly. Before you have a chance to react, he grabs you by your wrist and waist and swirls you around to lean against the wall. He buries his face into your neck, sighing deeply and laying kisses onto your heated skin.

“Rafayel… what are you doing here?” you managed to ask as your mind threatens to go hazy again. You don’t seem to be faring that much better than Rafayel was earlier.

Rafayel pulls back for a moment. He doesn’t say anything, yet the heat in his gaze is enough to make your stomach flip. He pushes his thigh between your legs, and instinctively you grind against it. The action reminds you of your missing underwear and causes a shiver to run along your spine. Your eyes flutter shut, and a small sigh escapes your lips.

That seems to flick a switch in Rafayel, who surges forward with a groan and captures your lips in a searing kiss. It’s demanding yet gentle; it forces every thought, every last shred of your attention onto him. Rafayel circles his arm more tightly around your waist, pulling you fully against his thigh. With his other hand he cradles the back of your head as he licks your lips to ask for entrance.

You were never good at poetry, but for Rafayel you will have to learn some day: there are no ordinary words to describe what he does to you. Only a few moments of kissing and you are left feeling like a teenager again, thighs trembling with need and lungs begging for oxygen as your lover pulls back to admire his work.

“Wh…what are you doing here Rafayel?” you try again, and when Rafayel still won’t answer, you playfully bite his lower lip as he leans in for another kiss. Rafayel groans at the feeling and pushes his hips flush against you. He is rock hard, and it makes you feel a little bit better about your sorry state.

“This is my room. You came in here, not the other way around,” he finally murmurs. He runs a slender finger over his bruised lip before laying his hand on your chest. Slowly he lets his fingers slide down the black fabric of your dress as his eyes are fixed upon yours. Your breath hitches as he reaches the hem of the short skirt and grabs it, then pushes it upwards until your naked pussy is exposed.

“What I meant was… Shouldn’t you be at the even—tahhhh—” your question ends in a moan as Rafayel’s fingertips brush against your slick entrance. He rubs against you with such faint touches that it drives you mad.

“Did you plan on leaving the room like this?” he asks with a hint of jealousy in his voice, and pointedly ignores your own question. You feel yourself clenching over nothing and end up grinding down on Rafayel’s hand. He lets out a playful tsk and releases your cunt before reaching for the zipper of your dress. Once unzipped it takes only a few tugs to undress you and leave you clad in just the push-up bra.

With a pleased hum Rafayel leans down to kiss your breasts as he returns his hand to your core. He cups your sex and slides his index and middle finger inside you. He starts to slowly pump into you as he nuzzles your cleavage that’s rising and falling in tandem with his thrusts.

After leaving a mark of blossoming red onto your left breast Rafayel lifts his head with a lazy smirk. He brings his other hand to your face and presses his thumb in, sliding it back and forth a bit for you to get the gist. Your eyes widen and you whine pitifully before starting to bob the digit in your mouth, wetting it at the same speed he is doing to your cunt.

Rafayel’s eyes are almost black now with how wide his pupils have blown up. His mouth hangs ajar as he uses both of his hands to fill you. The fingers inside you curl against your g-spot and you moan around his thumb. You bring your own hand to circle your clit as you brace yourself for your impending orgasm. Rafayel grasps your chin, forces you to look only at him. You feel yourself racing closer—

Ding-ding!

The intercom on the wall near you suddenly bursts into life. You squeeze your eyes shut, and hear Rafayel cursing softly.

You have a call waiting!

It���s a small wonder Rafayel doesn’t use his Evol to blow up the offending device. The call signal rings again, and you slip Rafayel’s thumb out of your mouth.

“You should answer. It could be important.”

Rafayel turns back to you, and you look at him with the most innocent expression you can muster. You lick your lips and clench around his fingers. Your slick has dripped down to his wrist by now, and you are still infuriatingly close to your orgasm. The blazing annoyance in Rafayel’s eyes is nothing but a turn-on at this point.

Rafayel grits his teeth and pushes the ‘accept call’ button harshly. The intercom crackles to life, and an unknown male voice starts to talk. Rafayel’s hand slips out of you, and it makes you panic for a full two seconds.

“I am busy,” Rafayel barks at the intercom before grabbing your hips with his hands and hoisting you up into his arms. He crosses the short distance to the bed and sits you down onto it, crawling between your legs as the man on the call still asks him questions. You manage to hear the words ‘salon’ and ‘early’, before Rafayel rolls his eyes and dives his head down. You can only hope his friend doesn’t hear the sound you make as Rafayel goes down on you.

Strong hands hold your hips down as Rafayel brings you back to the precipice. His tongue is hot and heavy against your folds and he moans around you like a man starving. You grab his purple hair a bit too forcefully, but that only makes him more determined to please you. It isn’t long before you are bucking your hips futilely in his grasp.

“Raf, I’m so close, I’m—” you try to warn him, but Rafayel merely hums and pushes his tongue into you. Then you are tumbling over the edge, cumming straight into his awaiting mouth.

You chant Rafayel’s name like a prayer as he eases you through the aftershocks. His hands massage your hips, and he kisses the shivering skin of your inner thighs.

As you come to your senses you look at his beautiful visage between your thighs. He stands up slowly from the bed while pressing light kisses up your leg. With a final kiss on your toes he lays your heel on his shoulder and brings his hands to his belt buckle. You lick your lips as he slowly undoes his belt: something about the sure movements of his hands mesmerizes you. Rafayel toes off his shoes and pushes his pants and underwear down. As he does his cock spring free, slapping against his abdomen. The tip of it is flushed angry red and slick with precum. Rafayel hisses and brings his hand down to stroke himself. Despite having just come you feel your arousal simmering to life again as you watch Rafayel pleasure himself. You arch your back to unhook your bra, which has grown uncomfortable, and then move your free leg behind Rafayel’s backside to gently coax him forward.

“Please Raf, my love,” you whisper hoarsely, and hear his breath hitch in response, “I need you.”

You see Rafayel’s chest glow red above his heart. He crawls onto the bed, kneels between your still spread legs and lifts your hips up and over to his lap. He nestles his aching cock between your folds, rubbing up and down as he leans over you.

“That’s my line,” he murmurs and captures your lips into a soft kiss. It’s almost enough to distract you from the sharp intrusion as he suddenly pushes in and buries himself almost to the hilt into your pulsating heat. You moan into the kiss and claw his back as he rocks back and forth. The air between you is hot and heavy. You feel like choking on nothing, and Rafayel steals what little oxygen there is with his kisses. You can do nothing but hold onto him as he sets the pace.

You are a sweaty mess: your hair sticking to your forehead, and you are sure that your face is as red as Rafayel’s dress shirt. Yet, when he pulls back enough to lay his forehead against yours and gaze into your eyes, pure beauty is reflected in them. You can’t turn away, not even with the risk of drowning.

Rafayel turns louder the closer he is. His gasps, groans and whimpers tumble out of his mouth as he quickens his thrusts. He changes his angle ever so slightly until your voice matches his, and when he feels you tightening around his cock, he releases your hip to help you along with his fingers.

“Sing for me, cutie,” he pleads. And when have you been able to deny him anything? You come apart around him, your whines high-pitched and your back arched off the mattress. Splendid colors flash behind your closed eyelids as your orgasm coaxes Rafayel over the edge with you. As he stills inside you so do his moans, and in that silence you swear you can feel him coming straight into your womb with how deep he holds you in place.

You lay like that for a while, Rafayel still inside you, running his hand through your hair as he searches your eyes for an answer to a question you didn’t know needed an answer. He kisses the palm of your hand and the tips of your fingers, and you smile up at him.

“As long as you need. As much as you want.”

So he does.

[kkuzushi]

જ Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby. . .ᐟ

˚𖦹 ‘ Chapter 19 : Baking cookies for my love, I stir n mix. ִ ࣪𖤐

— PREV | MASTERLIST | NEXT

As the holiday break draws to an end, students can’t help but dread the return of the semester—you especially. Three weeks off never felt like enough, even though most of your time was spent lounging around your dorm, with the occasional outing for parties or groceries. Still, your bed is bound to miss you after you practically lived in it for 30 hours a day.

Not only that, the events during the Countdown Party haven’t left your mind. You knew they wouldn’t—not easily, at least. Scaramouche was bold enough to take your hand and kiss it, leaving you stuck in your room, turning that moment over and over in your head.

And now, as luck—or maybe the universe’s cruel sense of humor—would have it, you’d be seeing him today. Somehow, everywhere you went, he seemed to show up, and with him now in the same class as you, there was no escape.

The sharp buzz of your alarm ripped through the room, pulling a groan from your lips. You forced yourself out of bed, even though every fiber of your being begged you to crawl back under the covers. But being late on the first day after break? That was a kind of humiliation you weren’t willing to face.

Dragging yourself out of your dorm and into the classroom, you noticed how empty it still was. You slipped into your usual seat, scanning the room idly—until your gaze accidentally met his.

Scaramouche was already looking at you, and to your dismay, he gave you a casual wave, as if that Countdown Party hadn’t happened. You rolled your eyes, tearing your gaze away, but your mind spiraled. Great. Now you looked like a desperate ex trying to find him in a crowd. You crossed your fingers and prayed he wouldn’t mention this in his group chat—though knowing him, he absolutely would.

The first class flew by, though not because you were paying attention. You slept through it, somehow managing to escape the professor’s notice. When the class has been dismissed, you groggily sit up, rubbing your eyes as your classmates shuffled out to the next room.

That’s when you noticed it. A small container of food sitting on your desk, placed so neatly it couldn’t have been an accident. Your brows furrowed as you picked it up, eyes catching the now-familiar handwriting on a note attached to it:

“Eat well :) –s”

Your chest tightened as you stared at the note, a mix of emotions swirling inside you. It was almost impossible not to think back to the coffee jelly he’d given you before.

— ꒰꒰﹒I’m really sorry for the late updates! Semester is starting up again but I had fun making these during my rest days. <3

— ꒰꒰﹒TAGLIST : @raineyun @hayamie @sketcheeee @wraithisd3adinside @heusalettle @liuaneee @yevurin @mywillt0live @kaikaidenkai @alatusorrow @shrimplyasleep @minstarrs @reivelmin @scaraenthusiast1 @girlbesofr2814 @yawn-zi @eternallykira-143 @theintruder1000

— ꒰꒰﹒OPEN. [ 18/50 ]

© kkuzushi | Please do not translate, repost, or plagiarize my work. This AU is posted in Tumblr only unless stated otherwise by yours truly.

[tapakah0]

[squarerankinsigniasacramento]

SIGNAL BASED TIME TRAVEL: IF YOU HAVE MILITARY COMPUTERS THAT ENABLE YOU TO TRAVEL TO A FOREIGN PLANET AND DISGUISE YOURSELF AS A MEMBER OF THE CIVILIAN POPULATION, AN ILLEGAL SPY IN TERMS OF LAWS RELATED TO WAR, YOU CAN USE THOSE COMPUTERS TO SEARCH OUR COMPUTER NETWORK, WHICH WE CALL THE INTERNET. CAN YOU SAY IT WITH ME? IN TER NET. LET ME REALLY SLOW IT DOWN BECAUSE YOU SEEM TO BE HARD OF HEARING OR FUNCTIONALLY DEFICIENT IN TERMS OF COGNITION OR COMPREHENSION

In tur net

Iiiiiiiiiiiiin teeeeeeeer neeet

[wundrousarts]

Various Nevermoor thoughts and things I've noticed after rereading the book for yet another time:

aka, everything that made me put something in the Discord or on here

— Cadence's braid is twisted up into a knot during the Book Trial, unlike the usual braid down she's often depicted with

— "Threads" of Wunder, the Gossamer being a "web", and the Wundrous Art of "Weaving"..... so fun! I need to look for more stuff related to Weaving and other Arts as I reread the other books

— Given Wunsoc’s motto of Containment & Distraction and the history of the Yule Queen and St Nick learning Arts in Sub-Nine, I wonder if the annual Christmas Eve Battle is purely entertainment for the masses or if it’s a distraction from something as well?

—— It’s in Courage Square… what if, if there is a Ghostly Hour there (of the massacre or of a related event), the Battle distracts folks from the possibility finding it? I’m team “it happened on the last day of the year” and not Christmas, but still 🤔 much to think about whenever that location comes up

—— If it is a distraction, it could also be a distraction for another part of the city just because it gathers everyone to one place and they’re less likely to be elsewhere

— Mog and Jack fighting but then convening a few days later to dump out their Christmas stockings together and trade the contents is Peak sibling behavior and I love them for that

— The picture that Dame Chanda is like “oh don’t cancel me but he’s hot” about Squall isn’t a photograph but a print of a painting. I wonder if more paintings of more Wundersmiths exist anywhere and if Mog could find them, or if they were all burned or something

—— I’d love if by the end of the series Mog has renewed the reputation of Wundersmiths and gets a new portrait done of her that’s hung up somewhere, this time where she looks healthy and happy, as a contrast to her bitter Hall of Dead Crows portrait from before

— Fen licking the side of Mog's face when she's crying <3

— Squall is so dramatic making the tiles of the Wunderground station turn black as he turns around lmao

— Aside from the obvious the obvious danger of the gathering, Squall describing Cursed Children dying on Eventide as a “mercy” and his whole “we do what we’re asked because we have to because we’re Wundersmiths” speech in Hollowpox, I wonder if part of why he wants there to be no more Wundersmith anymore and the Courage Square Revolt was because he was against the Society / government / Nevermoor using Wundersmiths from a young age for their own desires and gains. Anti child labor in the worst possible way lol

[novafire-is-thinking]

Tarantulas (Earthspark) for the character ask game

one aspect about them i love

His eloquence ✨

one aspect i wish more people understood about them

He is not IDW or BW Tarantulas and may never be. Comparing him to his IDW and BW counterparts may turn out to be like comparing Cyberverse Soundwave to every other Soundwave. Right now, they’re just too different. And I like it that way.

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have about this character

I’m laughing as I write this, but I really think Tara would have a Tumblr. It’s one of several ways he learns about humans, which has hilarious and potentially disastrous implications. xD

Tara uses the rubber ducky debugging method. A lot. He has a whole collection of little animal statues from god-knows-where, and he talks to them when he needs to work out an issue in his work. They’re an excellent audience.

one character i love seeing them interact with

Nightshade. No explanation needed.

one character i wish they would interact with/ interact with more

Besides Nightshade, it’s too soon to say for sure. I can’t think of any other character either of a similar caliber or who has complimentary traits. Tara would be bored with all of them.

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have that involve them and one other character

Before I share, here’s a song to go with it: Between the Lines by Felix Räuber (Spotify | YouTube) - For the full effect, I highly recommend listening as you read. Then after you finish reading, listen to the rest of the song and let it take you wherever it dares.

Okay, so this isn’t related to him and any character in particular, but I’m putting it here anyway for the irony factor. He speaks to very few, yet attempts to speak to many:

Tarantulas is a poet of sorts. For personal writings, he prefers the “primitive” method of writing things by hand as opposed to typing things into a datapad.

He takes something akin to a laser-engraving pen and writes his words on buildings that catch his eye, landmarks he likes, or other interesting places, not caring about so-called “property damage.”

He leaves his engraved notes and poems alongside a custom seal he came up with—sometimes left in places that can be seen, but often in places that are out of the way. In addition, all of his writings are in his native Cybertronian dialect, which is long-forgotten by most…

The humans and Cybertronians who come across his writings are intrigued by the mystery of the lone, wandering poet, but no one is able to translate more than a few words.

It’s like the very existence of the strange engravings communicates an internal conflict with loneliness—a silent cry to be seen, but also a desire to remain hidden.

Inspired by one of my favorite quotes:

"Artists are people driven by the tension between the desire to communicate and the desire to hide." (Donald Winnicott)

[dandyshucks]

how is it 2024 and im still seeing ppl say "xyz is my spirit animal" SHUT UPPP YOU ANNOYING RACIST WEIRDOS 😭😭😭 (/nbh)

[maxhpart]

Ranger Construct | Tears of the Kingdom

We have new info on the robits!! I partially updated the old art & added some new based on what was in the gameplay video.

More info below the cut.

To (mostly) answer my own previous questions:

Friend or foe? Both! Link fights a few small constructs with horns (Soldier Constructs), but he also passes close by a couple taller constructs (Ranger Constructs) by cookpots who don’t aggro and do otherwise seem like NPCs.

Sheikah, Zonai, or other? Zonai! As confirmed by the “Zonai Charge” dropped by one that Link fought.

New or old? Almost definitely old, being Zonai, but we can’t say for certain yet.

Which ones are the real eyes, if any? Based on the single central eye on the combative constructs, I’d guess that the center-top concentric orange circles are the single eyes on the taller constructs.

The Ranger Constructs seem to be foraging: they appear to sweep the ground with their hands in search of things to gather and then put a hand inside their lower halves as if to drop off a finding for safekeeping. I thought: what if they’re foraging for magitech/electricity berries, similar to Pando from Strange World? That seemed like a fun possibility for their power source, so that's what is being foraged in the bottom right.

[nero-neptune]

some pants i’ve seen on my university campus

[cannibalismyuri]

sometimes i wake up in the middle of the night, with my heart clenching between my ribs, almost feral, breaking out with negativity and pure hatred - the hatred of absence of everything in my life and the hatred of hatred of absence of everything in my life. and there's this huge urge to be furious. decimate all that's left of me and earth and all the stuff my sister gets to believe in. because i didn't believe in the tooth fairy or santa when i was eight. i wasn't allowed that luxury. at eight i was a mediator in every sense of the word, for my parents, for the feelings that were too big for my body warring inside me, for my friends. but then i remember that we exist to perpetuate the fairytale we didn't get to enjoy. we work tirelessly each day, i write notes in the littlest handwriting one ever did see (because the tooth fairy has small, small hands, sis) and stick it under my sister's pillow, i wake at insane hours of the night, at the witching hour, to stick presents under a tree and eat the cookies that she laid out, while the light slowly softens and bends around the edges as it swirls into the room, catching the dust spiralling in the room on fire, i work tirelessly to make a fairytale not seem like one to my sister. and maybe that's what the point of life is. to make it better for the ones ahead of you. because if you didn't get it, the cookies and notes with small handwriting and presents under a tree left by an invisible mystical force, then they should. and i remember human empathy and how much we do for the ones we love and want to protect from the harsh, harsh realities of the world, and suddenly my heart quietens and goes a bit soft around the edges, beating in a slow soft rhythm that seems to tell me i'll be okay, because i will. just because i will, because i deserve it. and suddenly the light flitering in - ever stubborn - through the curtains, catches on my sister's face, and it's more peaceful than mine will ever be. and there's something inherently beautiful about that. because i'm granting her the peace and unworriedness and sweet dreams (uttered to me each night, with no avail) that i never had or will ever have, and that's something good i'm putting out in the world. there's something of a tragedy and a love story and a love story despite the tragedy in it all.

[navramanan]

My tumblr experience has been so dead for some time now :(

[jxsterr]

gang i'm going to be real i don't know what to do with this blog anymore. i don't want to leave. i probably won't for a while but ??

ever since the staff post about midjourney and people putting shit together that's only painting a worse picture i just?? i don't know what to do. my shit could have already been scraped. it might not have. who's to say reblogs of my posts from users who decide to let their blog be scraped doesn't mean they'll still scrape my post because Their blog allowed it??

creating means so much to me and my writing no matter what form its in is still everything to me. i am a deeply creative person and to bear witness to the death of creativity is just too fucking much

i've never felt so hopeless about anything. i don't want to pour my heart into my stupid little blog and have greedy corporations steal from me. do i say to hell with it and continue to upload my little analyses anyway since ai is virtually inescapable? i just don't trust this fucking site anymore. my full works will go to ao3 as usual but idk what to do with my long posts??

[pagesofkenna]

Every time my queue runs out i keep checking the activity tab on the app like 'no ones interacting with me :(' as if anyones even aware im here to be interacted with

[accidentallyhuman]

Finally finished Harrow the Ninth yesterday and I really need to see what John’s tumblr account would have looked like

[mieczyhale]

not sure if tumblr is being tumblr or if i've been dumped by a beloved mutual with no idea what i did wrong