#TO BE CONTINUED MAYBE

[sloppysequinz]

Meet cute

Mel wasn’t expecting this delivery to bring her to an apartment complex. Two extra large pizzas, plus two six packs added on thanks to the newest DoorDash feature, would usually go to one of the run-down frat houses by the college. But here she was.

She typed the apartment number on the ticket into the pad by the gate. It rang for a moment before a woman’s voice answered.

“Hello?”

“Hi, this is your Dasher, I have two pizzas and two—“

“Oh fuck yeah, come on in.” The voice cut Mel off and a loud buzz sounded as the gate unlocked. Mel chuckled a little. The girls at whatever bro-y girls night this was must be eager for their pizza.

Mel sprung up the stairs and turned the corner, mind focused on the best route to her next delivery. But her mind was brought to a thudding halt as she approached the apartment and saw Her.

Only the screen door was closed, the front door was wide open. Inside was a tableau straight out of Mel’s daydreams. A brightly lit and cozy living room. A coffee table littered with food wrappers, takeout boxes, weed paraphernalia, empty beer cans, and an enormous bong. A TV playing a silly comedy show. A plush couch facing the door on the far side of the room. And on the couch, a woman—a woman who filled half the couch, who was laughing throatily and stupidly at the tv, who was idly twisting a grinder in her hands. She was wearing a wife beater tank top, with enormous tits spilling over the top and a massive belly spilling out of the bottom. Mel could barely see a pair of little pink pajama shorts under the belly. She was blonde.

Mel wanted to drool, but she took a moment to compose herself and knocked on the door frame. “Door dash!” She called out cheerily. She was going to be normal about this.

The woman looked up. “Oh, right, hell yeah.” She set the grinder down and stood up, somewhat unsteadily. Mel thought she might already be drunk, but it also might just be how heavy she was.

She swayed over towards the door, jiggling, apparently not caring how much skin she had on display. The edges of her areolas became visible as her tits shook further out of her struggling tank top, and Mel could see he hard nipples just below the top’s neckline. She wanted to lick—no, she was normal.

Mel handed over the pizzas. “I just need to see your ID,” she reminded her new favorite delivery recipient. By rights, she probably shouldn’t give beer to a woman who had more than half a dozen empties scattered around her couch, but Mel wasn’t much for morals.

“Oh right, yeah, for the beer, duh.” The woman responded. She turned and went to set the pizzas on the coffee table before rummaging around for her ID. Her dimpled ass cheeks were barely covered by her little pink shorts. Mel wanted to stick her face—NO. BE NORMAL.

The woman came back to the door and handed Mel her ID. Mel examined it. She was definitely over 21–her birthday put her at two years older than Mel.

“Yvette, that’s a pretty name.” Mel remarked, trying to be cool about it. She handed the ID back, then the beer.

“Thanks.” Yvette answered, barely noticing. She was hyper-focused on the beers Mel handed over. Her eyes were shining as she took the dozen cans.

Much to Mel’s surprise, her deliveree set one of the six packs on a table next to the door, pulled a cab out of the other pack, opened it with one hand, and tipped it back to drink deeply. Mel’s jaw dropped as Yvette chugged, leaning back as she emptied the can into her mouth, gulping deeply and repeatedly. The beer was gone in 30 seconds.

Yvette straightened up and let out a satisfied “Ahhhhhhh, fugggg yes” before just dropping the can right there on the floor and pulling another off the pack. It was then that she noticed Mel’s awestruck stare.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer” she chided, popping the next can open. Mel shook herself, ashamed.

“Oh fuck, I’m, I’m so sorry, I—“

“Chill, I was teasing.” Yvette responded with a grin, looking Mel up and down and she sipped her new drink. “I know an appreciative stare from an appalled one. You’re cute, what’s your name?”

Mel couldn’t believe this was happening. “M-Mel…”

“Ok, M-Mel,” Yvette replied, chuckling. “What time is your shift done?”

Oh fuck, it WAS happening. “Uh—uhm I’m off at 11–“

“You wanna come over when you’re done?” Yvette hefted her beer and regarded Mel idly, waiting to see if she had judged the other girl correctly. She had.

“Yes—yes.” Mel replied, tripping over her tongue. “Yes. I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

Yvette grinned widely. “Good girl.” Mel flushed. Yvette grabbed the other six pack and shook them both at Mel. “I’ll need help lighting the bong after I finish these.”

As Yvette turned to sway and stagger back to the couch, Mel rushed out of the complex, trying to configure how she could finish her deliveries as fast as possible. She tried desperately to ignore the wetness in her panties.

She failed.

[pineapple-downside-up-cake]

Pinnochi-ghost.

He's a war dog and he knows it, a product of vengeance and ashes, pointed at an enemy and given purpose. Bullet holes and breaks, they sand him down and put him together again. Fill in what's missing with sawdust and woodglue and loathing.

Barely a person and they give him a team anyway. Let him pretend he's not a puppet. The leash is long but the collar is tight. He chokes where they can't see, when he thinks he might feel something. Damn them for giving him warmth, a place where the light almost reaches his core.

It makes him want things he knows he cannot have. Things he doesn't deserve.

Can't disobey an order. The spell would break. He'd shatter into a thousand splinters, and nothing left. They'd sell him for toothpicks and the rest would blow away with the dust.

Something is better than nothing. And so again and again:

Target acquired.

Shot. Splinter. Glue.

Target down.

Whittled away little by little by time and repair until all semblance of the Simon he used to be is buried. Hidden under layers of varnish and fill, hardly anything solid, anything real, left behind the mask.

Not a man, barely a puppet. A spark that once had a dream.

A ghost.

[yourlocalbadgerscales]

I have such a complicated relationship with non-canon friends to lovers ships… like yea some of them are so obviously meant to be together romantically to me, but the rest are so random? Like where did y'all see the chemistry here?

Deamus? Hell yeahhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Prongsfoot? Platonic, yup, but romantic? Nope nuhUH

Parvati x Lavender? I don’t see it, sorry.

Linny? Of course!

Moonwater? Hm 🫤 (That’s a no btw)

Rosekiller? HECK YEAHHH

Wolfstar? YUP YEP YESSSYESSYESYESSS

Ronarry? Please, no-

[otterlyotterott]

A cat sits alone in the cemetery

Inspired by @circuscountdowns's bishop death comic.

cw: grief, slow mental deterioration by way of immortality

Mortal minds were not meant to live forever. Not alone. 

It’s the middle of the night and they kneel before the grave. In one of their hands they grip a shovel that had been gifted to them a long time ago. At the base of the handle is an engraving that matches the stone crown on the gravestone.

There is a pendant on their chest, and it gleams gold in the moonlight.

They close their eyes, and breathe. Out slow, in slow.  

Camellias smell like sugar and dirt, like three thousand years of longing. The flowers on this grave are always fresh. always redder than blood, even in the winter, when every other plant on cult grounds wilts and turns bare and hibernates. The camellias on his grave are always there, always beautiful. One might call them blessed.

They are not afraid of dying—they are devoted to Death. They simply cannot die yet. Their Gods and leaders need them. The rest of the flock needs their wisdom. Someone who can speak to them as an equal, but who knows more and has seen more than the rest. 

Mortal minds were not meant to live forever, but they’re still doing pretty well. They lose days or weeks sometimes, but it’s not a problem yet. They suspect it’ll take another five thousand or so before their mind becomes a problem, assuming something else doesn’t kill them first.

So, they cannot leave. Not of their own accord. They have no need to.

They want to stay, to be content with the impossible life they live, but something is missing. They’ve been missing the sandpaper edges of his voice for the last few centuries. They’ve been yearning for the feel of his fur on their own—green and yellow, a sunbeam shining over a bed of moss.

He left them. They agreed to it. He was tired. They understood, or thought they did. They were with him for the rest of his life, and they loved him, and he died, in the end, like a mortal, but his heart was full, and when he was gone for good, they realized that their heart had gone with him. Stolen in a final prank.

At first they figured the pain would lie in the loss itself, but true moments of pain were every time they would forget that he was gone. It was every time they would look beside them, to whisper to him something that he would yell aloud to embarrass them both, only to find no one was there. It was every odd hole in the ground that they would feel the urge to crouch down beside, to talk to him, coax him out, before someone would ask what they were doing and they would remember that he wasn't there. It was every time they remembered that holes in the ground were for plants, and not Gods.

He would be severely annoyed to see them do anything but smile, but it was getting hard to smile without him.

And, and he would want this, wouldn’t he? Even if getting woken back up annoyed him at first.

His After was probably boring without them.

He'd think it was funny.

He’d grin impossibly wide and say, “ABOUT TIME YOU DID SOMETHING SELFISH.”

They stare at the old stone. The crown of the God of Chaos stares back. It's only another life. He won't even have to put on a necklace this time around.

Mortal minds were not meant to live forever. Not alone.

So, they stand and lurch forward. They take the shovel into both their hands, and they drive it like a spear into the dirt, into Leshy's grave. 

They don’t know how the ritual works, but they know they’ll need his bones for it. They'll figure the rest out later.

[seraphtrevs]

If Hannibal was Jesse's psychiatrist, he would be constantly trying to get Jesse to kill Walt, growing more and more frustrated because Jesse doubles down on defending him, but also more and more fascinated - whatever is going on with them is some real sick shit, which Hannibal is into.

He convinces Walt to come in and fantasizes about recipes the entire session. If Jesse won't kill him, he will - just as soon as he figures them out, just to satisfy his curiosity. It's been months though, and he still doesn't get it.

Meanwhile, Will has them pegged immediately.

[petitmonde]

Jealousy, jealousy

More than anyone, Crystal admired Gigi. She was the ideal showgirl, able to lie like no one else. When Gigi told the crowd that she loved them, they believed her. At their meet and greets, it was always Gigi who sold the story that each and every fan was special – that she remembered it when a fan came to see her again. If only they knew it was a facade, maybe then they wouldn't fawn over her like she was god made flesh.

Or maybe they would. Crystal knew it all was a lie, yet she couldn't help herself either. There was something special about Gigi that drew you in until it dragged you down to drown in it.

Crystal hated that part of herself. Despite becoming coworkers last year, she would still jump through hoops of fire at the bat of Gigi's long eyelashes. She wanted it, she got it.

Time and time again, Gigi came to her needing something. Some requests reasonable, others outlandish like driving Gigi 13 hours to go see a band that was playing that night. Crystal had to sit out in the cold while Gigi played them with her charms, and had it been anyone else, the door would have been closed shut before the first attempt was made.

Crystal had half a mind to tell her off the next morning, to really let Gigi have it for abusing her kindness. But of course she couldn't do that. Never could do that. Gigi smiled at her with that million watt light that blinded her, and they were on the road again listening to a playlist featuring the band Gigi had spent the night with.

The kiss on her cheek still burned, the thank you unsaid as Gigi went on with her life, unaware of the natural disasters she left behind her in her wake.

Crystal looked upon Gigi from the shadows, bright as ever on the stage alone. Four minutes left, and it'd be herself up there with some of the newbies. She had to calm herself, put on the brightest smile Crystal Methyd could ever put on. Even without a solo, Crystal could do her part in tiding everyone over until someone more popular took centre stage.

Even on the best of nights, the bitter taste in her mouth never waned. So, in a way, Crystal was also a liar.

A little something for @thecollectionsof who desperately needed some Crygi. I don't do happy, so I hope this suffices.

[blabberoo]

told myself i'd make a short sketches during my break time.. i made a whole ass comic

[forecast0ctopus]

creatures again

[bunnibombz]

Alpha! Simon who packs his overnight bag when Price called him for assistance, though a little apprehensive despite the other Alpha's reassurance. It would only be for a night or two. Your heat had gone on longer than it ever had before and showed no signs of stopping, John hadn't slept in nearly four days despite breaks and had reached his limit.

Alpha! Simon who is immediately on edge the moment he steps into the house. Filled with the scent of your heat and the protective pheromones of the Alpha chugging a bottle of water in front of him. The older Alpha reassured him again, running through the game plan like the military Captain he was. John would shower, eat, and sleep for an hour or two and then take over when need be.

Alpha! Simon who felt better about this situation knowing that you weren't bonded yet, wanting to wait until you were married next year. and also knowing that this scenario had been discussed in length before your heat with Simon in mind. Knowing you trusted him so much had his heart pounding.

Alpha! Simon who knew it wasn't conventual for an Alpha with their Omega in heat to ask another for help but was willing to do anything, especially for you.

Alpha! Simon who was all soft rumbling purrs and hushed tones when he opened the bedroom after being bid upstairs by Price when he heard you begin whimpering. You showed no signs of distress as he laid a warm hand against your shoulder, your scent brightening a bit and untying the knot that had formed in his stomach.

Alpha! Simon who practically melted under your touch as you pulled yourself into his arms, rubbing your scent on any bare skin you could find, his cock swelling and teeth aching under the thick pheromones of your heat

Alpha! Simon who, in an attempt to control his instincts, lays you down against the sheets despite your whines of protest and slots two of his fingers in your wet pussy with ease, stifling the satisfied growl that threatened to spill as your slick leaked down his fingers.

"s'allright Lovie, I'll take care of you for a bit," Simon murmured, throbbing in his pants when you began fucking yourself on his fingers as he curled and flexed them to reach that soft spot inside of you, "sweet little bunny, cum for me and I'll give it all to you"

[hinamie]

how many hoodies can i give this kid

[rputthebottledown]

Look it‘s Nerdanel & Fëanor with cute little toddler Nelyo. Sometimes I just need some fluff in my life

part I

part III

part IV

[chagrin-roses]

love language

| previous part |

[sallufix]

(1) FAERIE FOOLERY

I do not know how to caption this. I've been rotting away making this for the past like 2 weeks BUT NOW IM BACK. I CAN FINALLY MAKE ART NORMALLY. Even better it's my birthday today everyone wins I love you all

[crowwowo]

Early morning sparring becomes routine, Pros- Cullen & Ali are able to reach mutual understanding & respect, Cons - Josephine thinks its ridiculous (Leliana thinks it’s hilarious)

Cullen & Ali argue non-stop even while sparring, but by the time their at Skyhold its more about challenging each others views/plans/fighting style to improve each-other rather than mindless disagreement. Plus both of them are out of practice, so sunrise training is just convenient (nothing more.. definitely not becuase it helps them see the other as more human).

[trashiiplant]

they're judging you

+ random doodle dump

[barghuest-draws]

Well cushioned ❤️💛