#StS short

[mr--spock]

Admit it, Spock. For people like us, the journey itself… is home.

[dunno-rambles]

what if she was an ex borg drone and you dont like her but you're the best mechanical engineer on the ship and you have to work on the maintenance of the remaining - and most crucial - implants on her body and the monthly check ups are always strangely intimate-

what if

[zwampp]

introducing: the st cassian chamber choir from Uranium City, saskatchewan. 🎢🌀

And some close ups!!

[medicalunprofessional]

never change, man !

[virsancte]

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this was supposed to be a different story. but i got an idea one day and i rewrote all of it. i like the end product a lot more & i hope you will too!

i've fallen deeply in love with all of the characters i'm ngl. i'll also make character pages over the weekend if i feel well enough to do so ive just been so sleep deprived that i'm basically feverish. lol

anyway yeah i've overstayed my welcome in the land of the conscious. i was gonna explain some things but my brain stopped functioning as soon as i loaded up all the images. i will see you on the other side

[abstrekt]

KISSIES!!!! My contribution to the @startrekwintergiftexchange , with Trip/T'pol relaxing for @cornflakesdoesart !!!

[splendidfemalelegs]

Stunning classy babe 👌🏽😍

[wilhelmsbee]

GIVE A FUCK ABOUT TRADITION, STOP IMPRESSING THE DEAD.

[randomfansstuff]

i also wanna just mention the probably most obvious metaphor in dark heir and rise. the hair lengths.

sarcean and anharion both being described as having really long hair. hair holding memories. both james and will having short cut hair. james having slightly longer hair than will since he's been aware of his circumstance for longer.

will's hair growing longer in italy, when they're close to the old palace and his past. hair holds memories.

their distance to their past being symbolised by how long their hair it.

[catholicsapphic]

Butch lesbian but instead of a carabiner hooked on her pants she has a rosary

[catgirljaneway]

Voy + Textposts 15

(Voy + Textposts 14) + (Voy + Textposts 16)

[st-alastors-confessional]

Alright miscreants,

I’m closing asks for now while I catch up on the multitude of confessions I’ve received.

Y’all are so sinful, it’s almost impressive.

I didn’t think this silly side blog would get so popular it’s kinda hot. So thank you for all the wonderful interactions I’ve had thus far!

In the meantime, here’s a scrap of meat for y’all the gnaw on…

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Warnings: NSFW RadioApple

Minors DO NOT INTERACT

Saint Alastor and the King of Hell against the wall of his Confessional. Angry sexual tension, Alastors Shadow, tentacles, choking, restraining, power dynamics, sacrilegious as fuck without actually fucking lmao

Enjoy your food ❤️

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

St Alastors grip tightens around Lucifers waist as he pins him against the outside of his Confessional. A new found anger boils beneath his skin, expertly masked by his perpetual smile and steady hands. The cross that hangs around his neck presses harshly into the King’s chest as he leans in closer.

Lucifer hisses through gritted teeth, his nails clawing lines up the dark wood behind him.

“You wouldn’t dare.” the King speaks evenly, challenging his own restraint by not simply charging St. Alastor into the opposite wall and succumbing to his own desires. Instead he remains still, gaze unwavering, feet planted firmly, biting back the unholy hunger he suffered for this man of the cloth.

It’d been weeks since the Saint had returned Lucifers letters or so much as offered a glance in his direction- even his ridiculous grin seemed strained when entering rooms now. Lucifer had started to believe he’d previously been too forward and offended the Saint, or worse: He’d been forgotten about entirely.

In any case, the reasoning behind the Saints cool shoulder was unknown to Lucifer and it hurt him more than he cared to admit. So one night, after a glass of whiskey and an impulsive thought, he marched up the cathedral stairs and confronted St. Alastor directly.

Fury pooled in his gut again.

He is the King of Hell and he will not be treated as a passing thought.

His hands shook and curled into fists, readying himself to slam them into St. Alastors chest, but he stills. The temperature in the room drops, a sudden iciness creeps up his spine. Each shuttered breath is released as white plumes between them.

The heat of St. Alastors body against his is interrupted by a coolness that first coils itself beneath Lucifers shirt, up his torso, and around his wrists without tangible force behind it. Before he can act, his hands are thrown up and pinned tightly above his head.

A shadowed figure stretches out from the darkness and cascades up the wall Lucifer is pressed into. It looms ominously, silently behind him, sharpened by the candlelight of the surrounding room, and arches down beside the Kings head with a snarl. Its talon-like nails run up Lucifers elevated arms, clasp around his wrists, and pull ever so slowly upwards. Lucifers feet gradually lose contact with the floor as he’s dragged up the wall by the unseen force, until he’s eye level with the holy man.

Lucifer shivers as he realises his predicament: He’s trapped between St. Alastor and his shadow.

The Saints eyes are lidded, mouth parted. "Oh, Your Highness,” his demonic voice chuckles softly in Lucifers ear, “Sinners like yourself are not worthy of the holy ground on which this cathedral stands. Do you seek exhalation?" The tendril beneath the Kings shirt, long and thick, travels above his collar and wraps itself around his throat, eliciting a moan as it constricts. A thin line of red slick trails from St. Alastors smile, down his chin, and drips onto the white of his collar, "Show me how you plead, Your Majesty."

The wall groans as St. Alastor leans in firmer still, his mouth inches away from Lucifers. He runs a calculated hand over the shadow-like tentacle encircling The Kings neck, twirls the tail end around his arm and playfully tugs. A soft threat: You are at my mercy.

"P-please. Your... Your Holiness." Lucifers broken words are squeezed out of him. The shadow that grips his wrists squeezes tighter, seemingly displeased by the answer.

“Oh, you'll have to do better than that, Sire." he responds lowly, “You’d be wise not to waste my time.”

"I-" Lucifer strains against the pressure on his throat, "I’ve come to confess."

“Mmm.” St. Alastors long tongue snakes out from between his razor-sharp teeth and licks a slow, wet line across Lucifers exposed collarbone, “Good boy.” he murmurs, “And what do you wish to tell me?”

“I fucking hate you.”

[matcha-squid]

haven't had a lot of time for any higher effort pieces so here's some doodles I did in class/at work

Hehe they're so silly I love drawing them. She is tall. He is small. She can hold her little man. They're perfect for each other :3

[24cardpickup]

You know after they got back every fashion brand wanted these losers to pose for them

[oeldeservesthenorris]

I Post A Hughes A Day Until The Season Starts - Day 49

[virsancte]

you have been knocking on that door for years and years and years, knocking louder all the time