#Thanks for asking about this fic!

[star-spangled-bastard]

Well since you reblogged that post about being open to asks, I'm curious. What drew you in the first place to Northmoor and Ash as a pairing, and what was the impetus for wanting to write Sacred Geometry?

Thanks for the ask! Initially I thought what little info we get in the Foundation DLC was really interesting. I like the idea of them together as part of the apparent pattern of the Directors and Heads of Research seemingly gravitating to each other! Based on the in-game documents they didn't get along, at least in the initial expedition, so I knew it would take a lot for them to start to trust each other and even remotely get along. That in itself was a fun idea. My basis for their stances softening is that everyone was extremely stressed during that expedition, and Ash was, if not grieving, still dealing with whatever mixed feelings he had about Ash Sr. So I could see part of his distaste for Northmoor being that he wasn't in a good state to deal with his kind of personality, or the power trip he went on after making contact with The Board. I had vaguely wanted to write something about the pre-canon administration but didn't have a concrete (no pun intended) plan at first. When I was trying to come up with a title for Point of Contention, I had thought about the phrase "sacred geometry" since Hedron/Polaris are also a geometric structure like The Board. But I pretty much immediately decided to save that title for the pre-canon fic. And I basically started writing it as soon as Point of Contention was done. I planned on it being a oneshot like everything else, and it was going to focus on Northmoor's appointment as Director, increasing rise in power, and tragic fate. I went into it planning to examine the gradual change in Ash and Northmoor's sentiments towards each other but I was thinking it would be a trajectory from "bad" to "lukewarm" or at best mixed feelings. But I ended up having a lot more of Ash's pov than I originally planned once it got too long to not be split into chapters. And as the only other pov character until basically the end, he ended up with the line I was determined to keep in about wanting to bury his face in Northmoor's shirt because it smells like clothes right out of the dryer. (This is based on experience btw. When it's cold out I like to stand close to the forge and cotton shirts will actually heat up and give off that nice clean laundry smell. I like to think some FBC agents would find that feature appealing, though they'd probably be too afraid of him to get that close). The decision to give that line to Ash was made maybe halfway through so I just kind of ran with the idea of there being a lot of complicated feelings between them that they really just don't have a chance to work out because of all the other circumstances. That really helped shape one of the themes going on where the pyrokinesis itself is like a kind of repression. They physically can't touch each other. There is also the undercurrent of "I could love this person but my deity of choice wouldn't like it" which wasn't an intentional thing but it fits with the other themes going on in there. The main one I consciously worked toward was Ash being sort of representative of humanity and The Board of course as some divine power, so Northmoor is caught halfway between both and struggling over whether or not to abandon what humanity he has left to become like a god or to risk The Board's wrath for the sake of just being human when they demand more. That made his emotional connection to Ash make sense to me, and their growing closeness indicating him deciding (too late) that he'd rather side with humanity.

This is turning into an essay, so I'll stop here. I think I've linked this one song before in an ask game, but I'll embed it in its own post. It's a perfect vibe for what I thought the tone of the epilogue was going to be vs where it ended up

[somnimagus]

My page for @sheikahzine; about Impaz's duty to her village, empty of people and full of memories.

[id in alt text]

[zephyrchama]

🎁🥔

Beelzebub and Mammon made their presence very well known when they entered the living room, with heads held high and chests puffed out proudly. They were a little sweaty and disheveled but strangely upbeat. Beelzebub was clearly concealing something behind his back. Mammon had his nose pointed so far up, it was almost a challenge to the Avatar of Pride's moniker.

You looked up from the couch and asked, "What's up, guys?" Feeling for all the world like a kindergarten teacher about to play a game with their students.

"We got you something," Beelzebub said with a pleasant smile. It was almost entirely drowned out by Mammon's loud boasting.

"You won't believe what I found. You're 'bout to be real grateful, so get our praise ready."

They plopped down into seats on either side of you, Beelzebub careful not to jostle the mystery in his hand.

It wasn't every day they made a big deal out of giving you something. Normally, they'd just do it. Your interest was piqued. "What is it?"

They smirked at each other. Both demons wanted to drag out the suspense, but were also too impatient to wait much longer. Still in their school uniforms, they probably rushed straight home as soon as they procured their present. After grinning for several prolonged seconds in self-satisfaction, Mammon snapped his fingers dramatically. "Show 'em, Beel!"

Beelzebub placed the gift in your lap as if it were made of the finest glass.

It was a potato.

"A human world potato," Beelzebub explained, as if there was any doubt.

"Ya don't see this in the Devildom everyday. We thought you'd like a human treat every once 'n a while."

It was green and wrinkly, with multiple spuds sprouting out the top. It looked like somebody had dropped it behind a shelf and found it months later through smell alone. It was impossible to discern if it had been washed recently or if, at this point, the slimy and moist texture was just this tuber's natural state of existence.

Two sets of eyes filled with anticipation were locked on to your face, scrutinizing its every move. They were waiting for their shower of praise. You forced an awkward smile and laughed with strained excitement. "A potato! Wow, thanks guys!"

"What are you gonna make with it?" Beelzebub was eager to know.

"I'm not sure." You gazed at the gift. You kind of wanted to fling it off your legs before your skin started crawling. Though, you couldn't insult the brothers after their hard work. It was time to start lying through your teeth. "I'm so touched. Really. That you went and got... this potato for me. I kind of want to keep it as a memento!"

Mammon waved his hand to dismiss your idea. "Nah, don't hold back! I paid a pretty hefty sum to get a hold a' this, y'know."

Your heartstrings twinged with guilt. To avoid stirring Beelzebub and his endless stomach, Mammon leaned over towards your ear. "Fry it, bake it, boil it. It's all yours," he whispered. "'Long as you're happy, yeah?"

You were not happy. Every day with these demons brought a fresh source of stress. At least you were never dull.

"Solomon once said that green vegetables are good for humans," Beelzebub revealed.

You twirled your head around so fast that you accidentally bumped Mammon in the nose and asked, "You actually took food advice from Solomon?"

"Only after Belphie confirmed it," he clarified. So they did do their research.

While that was usually true, this was an incredibly unfortunate exception. You could not bring yourself to consume the sad green potato. You needed a new idea.

"Can human plants be cultivated in the Devildom? I want to plant this, and then we'll have more potatoes we can all share." The wet sensation on your leg only grew more unpleasant and you wanted to get rid of it as soon as possible. "Let's go plant it out back and see."

The siblings began talking over one again again, saying, "My human's got a heart of gold" and "I'd like that" while squeezing you with bear hugs from either size. It jostled the potato and you feared it would start leaking more.

"Let's go, let's go!" you ushered, eager to give this old vegetable a proper burial. You could vaguely hear Mammon brag to his younger brother, "I told you this was a great idea, they're gonna be thankin' us for weeks," as you raced towards the doorway.

[pnfc]

today i was revisiting the pnf choose your own adventure book where the author they roped in to write it has an only middling understanding of pnf, thinks candace is blonde etc, but still got this much correct

[14dayswithyou]

I'm going to be a little evil :3c /silly

*I have stolen all of their headwear, leaving only FROGGY HAT in his closet.*

"Boy it sure is chilly today. Don't forget to wear a scarf and a hat when you come pick me up, okay [REDACTED]?"

✦゜ANSWERED: I believe in froggy hat [REDACTED] supremacy 🖤🐸

He knew. Of course he knew. [REDACTED]'s security system alerted him the second you stepped foot into his apartment, and it took the dark-haired hacker almost all of his willpower not to rush home and see you. But alas, he had other matters to attend to and messes to clean up here. Things he couldn't risk putting on hold, lest he pay the consequences for them later.

So, [REDACTED] settles for watching you through his cracked phone screen as you try to sneak your way around his apartment. They didn't really understand why you felt the need to be so secretive; you knew your boyfriend would be out for the day, you had his spare keycard and access to the entire 14th floor, and [REDACTED] had made it explicitly clear early on in the relationship that everything he owned was yours completely. Nothing was off limits to you, and that included every inch of his living space.

...And even himself.

Curiously, they watch with keen interest as you quietly slide the door to his walk-in closet open and take in your surroundings once more �� making sure that you really were alone in his dimly-lit bedroom. But barely a moment passes before you stride in with a newfound purpose, unzip your backpack, and begin to stash all of his caps and beanies inside.

Well, alright then. If you decided he no longer needed those items, then so be it. He was never one to deny you anything.

But in retrospect, you were honestly doing [REDACTED] a favour. He genuinely didn't really need those items in his possession anymore — especially considering how he had no real reason to conceal his identity from you after all these years of being together.

He could never forget about that pivoted moment in time when you opened up to your beloved hacker about his rather... intense need to watch over you 24/7. And after you had scolded him multiple times for stalking you from darkened corners and alleyways outside your apartment complex, [REDACTED] had all but tried to change his ways. To better themselves for you.

After all, you deserved nothing less.

Glancing back at his phone once more, [REDACTED] takes in every little movement you make as you continue to tuck away his belongings; down to the turn of your head and the flex in your muscles. Not a single twitch or glance goes unnoticed under his watchful gaze — and had the dark-haired man not been so enraptured by your ministrations — he surely would've noticed that it was just about time for him to start packing his tools up and head home.

Home, in time for the date you had planned for the evening.

But the way you purposefully moved around his closet had [REDACTED] in a trance. You were extremely methodical about the things you were swiping from his shelves; neatly packing away all of the headgear, earmuffs, and scarves on display (and even the ones hidden within the depths of his drawers!). Yet... One single item remained in the aftermath of your wake.

Atop one of the lone shelves in the corner, it sits, isolated from the rest of its kind. Worn out yet well loved; it was no more than a novelty item your boyfriend had originally won for you from a crane game. But even after their constant insistence that you should keep it, you rebutted it all by saying it'd look better on him instead — all while pushing the cute, froggy hat back into his hands with a teasing smile.

("If you keep bleaching your hair like that," his real name falls from your lips like sweet nectar, "All of your hair will fall out. When that happens, you can use this to keep your bald head warm!"

"...When that happens? Hmph. You're gettin' cheeky." With a smile of his own, your boyfriend reaches out to gently pinch your cheek. "I haven't touched m'hair in ages.")

So after watching you be so meticulous with the items you were "robbing", the hacker couldn't help but wonder what your main motive was. Why leave that silly, little frog hat alone unless... Did you want him to wear it? You knew [REDACTED] would never say no to you — let alone to a frivolous request — but admittedly, they did find it rather endearing to watch you put in all that effort just for him.

Just like how he used to be... Back before you opened the curtains of his life and brought sunshine into his heart.

Gone are the days of "Ren", when [REDACTED] had to snoop around your apartment just to get any sort of inclination of what your type and interests might be. No longer did [REDACTED] have to "borrow" some of your old clothing to keep himself company on lonely nights; to put them over his pillow and pretend like it was you he was holding close to his chest. He no longer had to steal your presents and tokens out of spite and jealousy — only to return them days later once they noticed how upset it made you.

Too caught up in reminiscing about the past, [REDACTED] had almost missed your swift getaway from his bedroom. Living up to your nickname, you glide down the staircase and across his foyer as if you sprouted angel wings on your back and stroll into the elevator, before closing the door and pulling out your phone.

And just like clockwork, [REDACTED]'s camera feed gets replaced by the bright red and green call buttons that shake and taunt him at the bottom of the screen — alongside the personalised caller photo of you smiling towards the sunset ocean with [REDACTED]'s jacket atop your shoulders. The dark-haired man leaves no room for pause before he's swiping his finger across the screen and eagerly anticipating the sound of your voice.

You greet him in that casual, nonchalant tone of yours, and [REDACTED] had to resist the urge to start recording the call — to save the addictive timbre of your voice for when he needs to hear it the most.

"Man... It sure is chilly today, don't you think?"

There's the familiar sound of tacky elevator music playing in the background, and part of [REDACTED] thinks you're purposefully calling him right now to let him in on your (not so) secret escapades... To let them know where you are.

Or perhaps you were already aware that he knows, if the way you were glancing up at the elevator camera was anything to go by.

Regardless, you don't give away any other telling signs as your beloved hacker watches you through the camera. Your bag is still carefully slung over a shoulder, while one of his old, black university caps received the pleasure of being fiddled with in your hand. Your voice returns once more, and it causes a grin to form on his lips.

"Don't forget to wear a scarf and a hat when you come pick me up, okay?"

There's a newfound teasing lilt in your tone, which has [REDACTED] latching on to your every word with bated breath and scrambling for a reply.

"'Course. Wouldn't miss our date for the world. 'N make sure y'stay warm too, angel." Without missing a beat, he easily takes his place in your little game. "Wouldn't wanna misplace your jacket 'n get cold now, would we?"

Your pixelated smile on the screen gives everything away.

You hear the unmistakable sound of [REDACTED]'s sports motorbike before you see it; watching the corner of your street as he appears from the darkness like a phantom.

And like the gentleman that he is, [REDACTED] doesn't make you stray far from the safety of the streetlamp either. The moment your boyfriend pulls up in front of you, one of his large hands reaches around your waist to draw you near (almost as if he'd gone years without being in your presence), while the other makes quick work of the latch of his helmet. In one swift motion, he pulls it off and rests it against the tank—

Only to reveal that cute, pastel green frog hat sitting atop his head.

He can't help but smile when you do; clearly pleased that he went through with your silly request. At that, you let out a low hum of appreciation as you lean against your boyfriend's chest, and [REDACTED] returns the favour by bending down and pressing a chaste kiss against the crown of your head as well.

"...Think y'could give this unworthy prince another kiss, love?" Your beloved boyfriend leans in closer until your lips are millimetres away from touching, "Otherwise I might stay cursed t'live in this froggy form forever."

[mangostarjam]

by your side — kaiju no. 8, hoshina soshiro x reader, gn for the most part but referred to as "sweetheart" (and "girlfriend" at the end), hurt/comfort, mentions of injuries, written in response to this ask, 1.8k words

"Vice Captain! Vice Captain! VICE CAPTAIN!!"

You wince as Okonogi's voice pierces through the gunfire and explosions surrounding you and your officers. You shouldn't even have access to the Vice Captain's radio channel with Operations, but you've been friends for so long Hoshina Soshiro had simply shrugged and offered you a smirk.

"How else are ya gonna learn the ropes and beat me someday?" he'd asked. "It's not like lettin' ya listen'll keep your shots any steadier."

He was right, of course. Letting you listen doesn't do anything for your aim — but hearing the channel now, knowing he's fighting a kaiju that can talk — that's strong enough to control all these wyvern type kaiju? It's a testament to all these years of training together that your shots are deadly and precise, your heartbeat ricocheting in your ribcage as you breathe and brace your shoulder for recoil.

Another wyvern kaiju dives towards your group and you huff, planting your foot on a block of rubble and notching the rifle against your shoulder. "Minase! Hibino! Get out of the way!" you order, squeezing the trigger rapidly.

Your breaths are loud in your ears.

Static crackles down the line.

You wince as a yoju crashes into a building nearby, sending dust and concrete tumbling down. Your officers — Soshiro's officers, normally, except he's busy so they're yours, now — are tending to the wounded and taking down yoju behind Officer Shinomiya's two man squad with Officer Ichikawa.

You want to run.

You want to sprint.

Your fingers are clamped so hard on your rifle that they ache. The talking kaiju, the leader — Kaiju No. Ten — is huge, even from a distance. There's no way Soshiro can take it down on his own — he specializes in miniature and mid-sized kaiju, not this giant monstrosity with an itch for fighting. You should be there.

"Vice Cap—!" Okonogi's voice is hoarse from yelling. Does she have a visual of him? He must've been knocked through a few buildings or something, based on the smoke and sounds you can catch from their direction.

Not knowing is the worst.

"Okonogi… don't worry… I'm still kickin'," Soshiro's voice is way too cheerful in your ear.

"Are you alright? Hoshina-kun?" you ask.

Soshiro switches to your private channel with a hum. "Aw, are ya worried 'bout me? That kaiju really packs a punch! How're my lil fledglings doin'?"

You watch as Officer Ichikawa freezes another yoju out of the sky. "Shinomiya and Ichikawa could probably make platoon leader, sir," you slip back into formalities automatically, though your chest aches. You flex your hands on your weapon. "In fact, it looks like it's pretty much handled here. I'll head over to your location now."

"Platoon leader," Soshiro's voice is sharp. You wince and freeze. "Your orders are to lead my platoon. Don't worry 'bout me."

"But sir, that's a giant class kaiju now, and —"

"And I've got a job to do," he says. "I intend to finish it. Follow my orders, sweetheart. I'll be fine."

Warmth blooms along your cheeks even as dread sinks into the pit of your stomach. Fuck.

Your earpiece clicks back to Soshiro's channel with Operations and you bite at your lip as Soshiro informs them of his plan to keep fighting. Okonogi protests immediately. "But sir, you're in no condition to fight any longer —!"

She's right. His maximum release is deactivated and it's a giant now — at least if you're there, you can expose the core with your shots and Soshiro can cut it down. But —

"She left me in charge of the base," Soshiro mutters. Your stomach twists. You can barely see clearly as Officers Izumo and Kaguragi take down another yoju.

Instead, in your mind's eye, you're picturing Soshiro racing along the large limbs of his foe, slicing and slashing even with his diminished combat levels. Fuck. He's really going to do it — he'll let himself die before he gives up, and normally you admire his conviction and resolve, but right now you're sending your hopes out to anyone who'll listen to please save your stubborn stupid Vice Captain.

"Platoon leader, we'll be moving the wounded now!" Officer Minase shouts. You blink to clear your vision and nod.

This is not the time to lose focus.

"Vice Captain!"

Okonogi, again. Not good.

"Fuck," you bite out, swinging your rifle into place and shooting down a yoju. Fuck, fuck, fuck. "I swear, Hoshina, if you die I'll kill you. Who else am I supposed to share coffee with in the mornings? Who else is gonna tease me about the books I read?"

You hear Soshiro's choked laugh and your heart clenches. You squeeze the trigger again and the yoju in your sights dives out of the way. Soshiro sounds bad — he sounds like cracked ribs and breaths wheezing and you hear him spit what must be blood.

"Platoon leader! The path is clear!"

You provide cover fire anyway as the officers transport the wounded. The rest of the battle is a blur — Captain Ashiro's steady voice and the loud, decisive boom of her cannon echo in your ears, but you're protecting the infirmary when her order comes to hit the deck.

The blast washes over you like a wave and you shudder against the force, bracing against it even with your shield cranked to max. Your earpiece crackles and Soshiro sighs. "He's been arrested."

"I can't believe it," you murmur, climbing back to your feet with a wince. "Sir, are you alright?"

"What, back to formalities already?" Soshiro teases. You roll your eyes. "I'll be in the medic bay for a bit, sweetheart. Are you injured at all?"

"Just some scrapes and bruises," you promise, fighting off the blush creeping up your neck. "Did you check on all of your other officers already?"

Did he check on you first?

"I know you took care of 'em," Soshiro says easily. His confidence in you makes you want to cry. "Had to make sure my favorite platoon leader was alright."

The line goes dead and your heart stops. On the ranked officer channel you hear Captain Ashiro snap, "Get him to the med bay, now. I'll take Kaiju No. 8 into custody."

Your heart wrenches itself back into pumping as a sharp pain shoots through your chest. Did Soshiro collapse? Did he seriously — seriously — check on you with the last bit of strength he had left?

You spare a precious few moments to make sure your platoon (Hoshina's platoon) is accounted for and understand their orders to rest and help with securing the base, and then you bolt.

You're panting and dusty and there's still dirt smeared across your forehead when you make it to the med bay, but Soshiro's in an operation room and you're forced to pace in the hallway outside. Thoughts tumble through your brain like rocks, memories of training together and joking over drinks and shared morning coffees and all the times he's draped his jacket over your shoulders during late nights going through reports together. All the cracked jokes over your private radio channel and the silly smiles sent your way any time you laughed at one of his stunts.

You know you're not supposed to — he's your Vice Captain, after all — but fuck. You love him.

Platoon Leader Ikaruga is the one who finds you and sends you off to get cleaned up. "He's not going to be happy seeing you all banged up, and it'd be easier on his recovery if you're clean."

You can't argue with that, so you hurry to wash off the sweat and dirt and dust. As soon as you're done, you're back in the medical ward, pacing a hallway until one of the doctors finally emerges and directs you to the Vice Captain's recovery room.

"Soshiro —" your voice catches in your throat at the sight of him. His purple hair is splayed across the pillow, his bandaged chest rising and falling shallowly with every labored breath. You make your way quietly to his side and settle into the chair, resting your head on your arms as exhaustion creeps into your bones. It's been a long night.

He's okay. Soshiro's alright — a few cracked ribs and lots of bruises and stray cuts, but he's going to be fine. Dawn glides into the room slowly, lighting up the smooth skin of his neck and catching along the contours of his bandaged biceps and chest. The blanket is drawn up his torso and it's soft beneath your arms.

You fall asleep.

There's a hand patting gently at your hair, fingers sliding through the strands as you slowly blink yourself awake a few hours later. "Hey, sleepyhead," Soshiro's voice is low and a little rough. "What're ya doin' here?"

Someone's drawn the blinds shut, but sunlight filters into the room and makes his red eyes glow. You blink. "I'm here for you."

Soshiro's mouth twists. "You should be sleepin' in your own bed, sweetheart. I'm fine."

Your hand clenches into a fist on his blanket and his gaze drops to it. "You almost died, sir."

He stops petting your hair and reaches for your hand instead, tangling your fingers together and pressing his palm to yours. Your face warms at the rough scrape of his callouses against the sensitive skin of your hand. "That's nothin' new," he murmurs. He looks at you again and you can't bring yourself to look away. "We're Defense Force officers."

"You — you're more than just a Defense Force officer, sir," you choke out.

"Right, right, I'm a Vice Captain."

"Yes, but. Sir, you're also…"

Soshiro's gaze sharpens. "What's with the formalities, sweetheart? You called me by my name earlier, didn't ya?"

Your face feels like it's on fire. He heard that??

"You were asleep!"

"I was a lil drowsy on painkillers, but I heard ya loud and clear," Soshiro smirks. "C'mon. Lemme hear it."

You stare at him. He can't be serious.

Soshiro's smirk softens into something a little hesitant, a little nervous. "C'mon. I wanna hear my girlfriend say it."

Oh.

"Soshiro…"

His smile lights up the room. "Yeah?"

"Soshiro," you're blushing so hard it's a minor miracle nothing's caught on fire. "I'm gonna kiss you now."

He laughs and tugs you closer by your clasped hands. You plant your free hand beside his shoulder and hover above him awkwardly, mindful of his many bandages and the cotton taped to his cheek. "Well?"

"Shut up, or I'll dump you," you mumble, eyes darting from his eyes to his lips. You feel his free hand come up to slide around the back of your neck, drawing you closer. He laughs into your mouth as you pause, mere breaths away.

"Don't be mean," he murmurs. "I just wanna kiss my girlfriend."

[girlsdads]

https://www.tumblr.com/girlsdads/762007245755170816

It looks like daniel is peeing

em!!! you put this in my brain and i promptly had a crisis, so of course i had to give Max that same crisis, and somehow this became 1.3k 🫡

cw: (consensual?) voyeurism, romanticized peeing

Practice gets red-flagged early on. Max doesn’t see who is in the barrier as he slowly passes, just knows it isn’t Daniel. He’d been assured of that down his radio almost instantly, though he hadn’t asked. He thinks it must be team protocol to tell him this, that it’s not his teammate in the totaled car. Still, Max flushes bone-deep, feeling too exposed, too obvious. Feeling like they know, everyone must know, his brain turns to goop around Daniel and he never catches himself in time.

He trails Daniel to his driver’s room anyway, knowing how it looks. Daniel grins over his shoulder at Max, starts skipping ahead, makes Max chase him. Warmth blooms in Max’s belly. He may be always following behind Daniel, but Daniel is always looking back.

Daniel shrugs his race suit off his shoulders, lets it hang open around his trim waist. The humidity has stamped dark patches on his white fireproofs where he’s started to sweat through. Max closes the door behind himself and stands there awkwardly, trying to think of something to say that will make Daniel laugh, trying not to make direct eye contact with Daniel’s sweaty armpits, lest he shove Daniel against the wall and stick his nose there.

What happens instead is much, much worse.

Daniel is making a beeline to the bathroom, thumbs hooking into the elastic over his flat pelvis. Max’s vision tunnels, the air in the room seeming to close in around him with a swoosh.

“What are you doing?” He hears himself ask, stupidly.

It’s obvious what Daniel is doing. He’s shimmying his hips side to side as he nears the toilet, wiggling the Nomex down. He’s left the door wide open. He stops and smiles at Max, blinding. “Gotta drain the snake, as they say.”

Who is saying this other than you, Max wants to shoot back, knows he should match Daniel’s cheeky tone, rib him a little then leave the fucking room like a normal person. He hears the wet pop of his own bottom lip dropping open, feels the weight of the words against his larynx, but is struck completely dumb watching Daniel pull out his flushed, soft cock.

Max has of course seen Daniel’s dick before, it would probably be more weird if he hadn’t, like he was purposely trying not to. But the handful of other times have only been glimpses in his periphery, nothing like this. Like this, close range and staring openly because Daniel knows Max is there and still he didn’t close the door, Max can see everything.

The double-stacked waistband of his briefs and fireproofs is tucked up snug under his balls. Max can see where the dark, stubbly hairs are starting to grow back, on his sac and around the base of his cock. Daniel has joked before, about manscaping, but to see the evidence of it like this is dizzying. Max wants to go to his knees and pull each ingrown hair free with his teeth.

Daniel holds himself loosely in his left hand, the ruddiness of his shaft clearly visible through the gaps between knucklebones. The head is peeking out past the circle of his index finger and thumb, fat and flushed a little darker than the rest of him. Even soft, his cock looks heavy and full. Max’s mouth floods with saliva and he sucks it back with his cheeks pinched in, hoping Daniel won’t hear the wet slurp.

His skin feels hot. He’s stuck like an ant under a magnifying glass in the sun, his insides incinerating as he watches an arc of piss flow from the gorgeous tip of Daniel’s cock, noisily splashing into the bowl.

Daniel groans, his chin bobbing down toward his chest like someone cut the string that was holding his head upright. Piss hisses out of him, harder now, like he’s pushing it. It is so loud and the walls are thin—anyone lingering nearby must be able to hear, to know. Max wishes he could put up a forcefield, shelter them both inside where only Max can hear the sounds Daniel’s body makes.

It is all over so quickly. The stream trickles to a stop and then Daniel is shaking off the last little dribbles before he’s tucking himself away. Max feels a pang in his chest like grief—he hadn’t finished mentally cataloguing every angle of this moment, needs the image 3D printed into his brain so he can remember forever. Daniel will probably never speak to him again after this, will certainly not let Max anywhere near his bare cock once he turns and sees—Max is hard.

Daniel is shrugging back into the shoulders of his race suit and Max is standing there tenting his own, mortifyingly obvious. Max braces for whatever awkward joke Daniel will try to make to mask his disgust, as he faces Max finally.

He watches Daniel notice. He watches his eyes go slightly bigger and rounder, watches his jaw tick like he’s going to drop it. His gaze feels like a physical weight. Max’s dick throbs once, twice. There is no way Daniel cannot see.

Daniel says nothing, in the end. He smiles at Max, easy as anything, as if Max isn’t a complete freak of nature with a boner from watching his teammate take a piss. He even claps Max on the shoulder as he passes on his way out the door, doesn’t seem to catch how Max sways, knees wobbly, under his touch.

And then Max is alone in Daniel’s driver’s room. Alone and hard and—fuck, a realization burns through him—Daniel didn’t flush.

Max lurches forward before he can stop himself. His foot catches on some part of the floor and he stumbles, nearly going to his knees right there in front of the toilet.

It should be mostly clear, with how they are supposed to be staying hydrated, but apparently Daniel is not doing a very good job. Max has to steady himself with one hand on the wall as he stares down into the bowl, dazed. The water is tinged an unmistakable yellow. It hits Max viscerally, that Daniel has bodily functions and that he did one of those right in front of Max, was comfortable enough to not care if he saw. It’s unbearably intimate in a way that Max can’t think too hard about or he’ll forget how to drive his car, probably. He thinks, wildly, that he wishes he could live inside Daniel’s body, surrounded by all the microscopic things that make him him. He wants to kiss every single one of Daniel’s cells and thank them for keeping him alive.

Even more wildly—he wants to massage his bladder from the inside, tell it he’s sorry it had to get so full, that Daniel should never have to hold it for too long, that he could always if he cannot wait tell Max to go to his knees, and Max would, anywhere, tip his head back and open up for everything Daniel has to give—

Max rips his layers off, feeling frenzied. Elastic stretches around his thighs as he squats lower, his cock now leaking bare over the bowl full of Daniel’s pee. He had foregone underwear earlier, the crotch of his fireproofs now absolutely soaked through with precome. It will be cold and sticky around his cock and balls when he gets back in the car, he will have to drive again and feel it and he will think about Daniel and his dehydrated piss and the sound he made when he let go—

Max comes, shaking, aiming his cock so that it splatters into the bowl, milky white swirling with yellow. Max and Daniel together, like it should be always.

[smoothoperatorasks]

to the twins and the operator, im not sure if the aegislash counts, but has anyone hatched or caught any shinies?

[void-dude]

I have to single handedly thank you for reminding me of Tad's existence I adore your take on him and I think I'm going to suck up every drop of content of him and Stan with a silly staw

Not to be a helpless sap but the amount of positive feedback and engagement has genuinely made me incredibly happy and sometimes even distressed (in a good way!) I can't thank each and every single one of you enough for the support and simple engagement you've given me! I don't have the words in my broken vocabulary to properly convey the happiness I feel whenever I see people enjoy my silly art and create their own things because of it. This is the first time I've gotten fanart and asks about stuff I make and honestly it's such a motivator! Thank you! Thank you all so so much for sticking around for a while! I hope you enjoy the ride as much as I enjoy making it!

[stupidlittlespirit]

Ahh so I’m the same Anon that sent the College!Ford sarcastic praise ask!!! I’m so glad you liked my little blurb, I absolutely loved Freaks and was high-key thinking about it when I came up with that praise idea! I absolutely love how you write Ford, and I’m honestly so hyped for any of your other writing projects! Very excited for the cabin one 💓

I’ve also got another praise suggestion! (If your still open to receiving them that is 🙈)

Ok this premises a little wild, but hear me out. Reader and Ford accidentally swap bodies (probably from the Carpet Diem carpet) and since this would be a post-portal/post-Weirdmageddon!Ford, seeing his body being controlled by someone else just, initially brings back bad memories. Reader who only has limited knowledge about what Ford experienced with Bill, takes this as an opportunity to show Ford’s body kindness.

Reader would just dote over Ford, admiring themselves as him and reassuring Ford that they would never harm his body, they care too much about him to ever consider doing that.

As Reader showers Ford with praise, they note how strong he is as a person, (because Reader can literally feel all of Ford’s aches and pains he accumulated over the years.) Reader goes on about how Ford’s body is truly a marvel, hands absolutely included (I can see Reader getting very deep and passionate about genes and the human body, and just how amazing Ford’s hands are; how its rare for someone to be born with fully functional polydactyly, on both hands no less!)

And Ford (in Readers body) is just…at a loss for words? Ford is just so unfamiliar with receiving earnest, soft appreciation he doesn’t know how to respond or act in this situation, it’s admittedly, a little odd for him to see himself…love himself? Ford is just so use to either being fairly dismissive of his own body, or feeling shame over his hands. So him hearing someone truly love and respect those things about him?! Has Ford absolutely floored

lol idk if this premise is…a little weird? But I thought it could be a cute supernatural trust activity?!? lol

OH ANON now this is cinema!

Don't ever apologise for getting weird with it, that's what I'm all about. The weirder the better!

This is so fucking cute and unique.

Under the cut as always:

I think the idea that Ford has chronic pain fits this really nicely too because yeah, imagine swapping bodies with this guy and being like '....damn bitch, you live like this?' I have it myself and I know that shit sucks.

The moment you swap you're initially just left reeling by the immediate physical sensations: how absolutely starving he is, how exhausted and low-energy he is. He's sore and tender in spots you've never even considered before and there's not even any indication for the cause of the pain, either. It's almost phantom in nature. And when you bring it up, Ford is very much like "yeah but hey, that's old age, right? Totally normal! Painkillers are for the weak!" and Reader is just flabbergasted by it.

Ford being utterly overbearing as he watches you pilot him around, telling you what to do with his body and getting frustrated with the fact that you're not treating him the way he does himself because he's right about everything, it's always been that way and he's functioning just fine, thank you very much.

I can see Reader righting all the wrongs regardless of Ford's insistence that he's fine, too, no matter how pissy he gets about it. Like no, we're gonna sit your ass down and eat this meal, we're going to take an hour long bath and get the dirt out from under your nails.

The concept that he's so afraid you'll deface and abuse his body like Bill did without even realising he's been doing the same thing to himself for years.

And yeah, Reader complimenting all of Ford's being in a way that's much deeper than god you're fucking hot. The way he looks, his scars and his tattoos, his perfectly average physique, all of it. I think his hands would take some getting used to as well. Having six fingers when you're only used to five would probably be kind of hard to work with at first? Forgetting to give yourself enough space to move them when reaching for something or being a little clumsy when handling stuff. But that doesn't mean they're not marvels in and of themselves, and Reader would be just absolutely taken with them.

Ahhhh you're onto something here anon....

and imagine Ford experiencing arousal in the Reader's body in reaction to the praise and care he's receiving, being fascinated by the difference in sensation. The need he'd have to examine that only to find that- oh hang on, that's really quite nice and actually would you mind fucking him? He's always wondered what it would feel like, hasn't every man?

I could also not resist a 2002 Scooby Doo, Fred Jones-esque 'I can look at myself naked' moment

[faeriekit]

#Danny Fenton is so done

In light of your recent repost, I'd like to see what you do with the above tag, please!

"I DON'T NEED A DEAD GUY!!" Danny howls, ice swirling around the room. "What the hell???? I'm already dead?? What's a dead guy going to do for me that I can't do for myself?!?!"

"My Lord—" the cultist chokes out, voice rasping with cold. His fingertips and lips are slowly turning black. Danny can't find it in himself to feel badly about it. The body in his arms is slowly cooling— but if Danny can get it cold enough, maybe, just maybe, his heart will slow down enough to get him some help.

Please. Please let it be in time.

"I'm not your lord!!" Danny shrieks— some of his wail slips out, and human cultists go flying. Some of them are smart enough to flee.

Not all of them, though. Those, Danny freezes in place with his eyes, because he can't let go of the bleeding teen in his arms.

He can't. He can't let go.

This summoning will be the last one. Most of them before this had been sleepovers and slumber parties and silly games and backyard rituals— but if that implied that he was summonable, if that caused this, they will never happen again.

Danny feels something pull on the injured teenager. There's someone in front of him, and Danny doesn't know them, and they're not in medical gear. They're a threat.

He opens his mouth and SCREAMS.

[naffeclipse]

Talk about your monster husband ocs coward (affectionate❤️)

Everyone, the tumblr user themeeplord is bullying me (affectionate <3)!!

You have no idea how normal I am about my monster OCs. They're so lovely just let me—ahhh!

Hawthorn is a Mothman monster. His wings are based on the garden tiger moth and he is so fluffy! He has a thick fuzz on his neck and chest and is a warm, cuddlebug. He also possesses bright orange eyes that pierce the darkness and startle the unfortunate late-night hikers or anyone piercing into the woods after midnight.

He has a thing for hanging out in the thick woods near where the MC lives. Wherever he goes, bad omens follow. He really shouldn't be near MC—he knows he'll be the death of his precious little human, but he can't help it. He's drawn to the MC like a moth to a flame (heheh). He's delightful and gentlemanly, but don't let that fool you. He's got a possessive stretch a mile wide and does not take kindly to anyone giving the MC looks or reaching out for a too-familiar touch. He will bristle and buzz, and fly swift and silent through the darkness to chase after anyone to ensure the MC stays all to himself. He is a bad omen, after all.

Grease is an oil demon! He feeds off of fear, literally, and delights in terrifying people in the night. His body is slick and iridescent, and he is constantly dripping black goo from his person. He is capable of shifting his form to hide in a puddle, slink underneath doors, or bubble through a crack in a broken window. He's got wicked sharp teeth, and eyes like a tiger but with a pale, unsettling blue color. He possesses tendrils on his head that constantly drip and a long, slick tail that he can use to grab MC by the ankle. He's terribly seductive and charming, terrifying but mischievous. He likes to say 'boo' just to watch MC jump. Of course, he's not all tang and salt. He's got a sweet side that rouses in a protectiveness over MC. He's possessive, sure, and he's marked his claim with the oil stains on MC's work apron, but he's got an ooey-gooey center of sweetness that MC occasionally finds when he blushes at a stray touch or a nice comment about him.

Calmo 91, otherwise just called Calmo, is a robot. Constructed in the 90s with a box TV screen head to match, he has bright yellow optics in the screen face along with thick wires falling behind his head in a ponytail-like fashion. He is cool and difficult to read but wickedly intelligent and learning much about humans and affections. His body is a thin endoskeleton with plastic matt gray coverings that give peeks of blue, red, and yellow wires at his metallic joints. He's got a mysterious past the MC is attempting to unravel that he truly wishes the MC would leave be. He's got much to learn about technology but he quickly figures out how to connect to the MC's phone for texting, phone calls, and other useful things of course, like keeping tags on where MC is and monitoring MC's heart rate. Useful tools. Modern technology. Living in the MC's house, he gets to spend more domestic time with the human he decided is kind and generous, but the MC occasionally finds him at the foot of the bed in the darkness, his yellow optics strangely switched to red until the MC says his name and his optics revert back to yellow again.

[corviiids]

ive never watched h2o just add water but im australian so close enough and i desperately want to know more about death note h2o au. how does light becoming a mermaid make him able to kill people does he just like start grabbing people and drowning them. does L keep coming up with convoluted ways to reveal that light is a mermaid (i would like to know if someone attempts to push him into a pool at some point because i think thats how h2o mermaids work like you. just add water™ and they turn into a mermaid right)

(this ask is referring to my tags on this post)

#i just looked in my notes and found a death note au of that australian mermaid show h2o just add water#in this au light becomes a mermaid and immediately uses his mermaid powers to fucking kill people#and also hes australian#and becuase he's australian hes not called kira#his murders were first noticed on nobby beach (queensland) (australia)#so hes called the ghost of nobby beach#or nobbo for short#because hes australian#does anyone want or need australian mermaid murder death note au called nobbo? why did i write this#when will i finish it

thank you for your interest and everyone else who has shown interest in death nobbo. this is a post about death nobbo, my death note h2o just add water au which takes place in queensland australia

they are Australian and live on the gold coast and light is a uni student who becomes a mermaid. because he is a normal person he realises this is his opportunity to kill people. he also has a pretty, shiny tail.

L is a detective whose attention is drawn to this weird string of drownings in Queensland, Australia. he comes down to investigate.

to answer your actual question:

light drowns people by waiting for them to go surfing or swimming or whatever and then flipping their boards etc and dragging them at top speed into a rip. he holds them down or tangles them up so they can't stick their arms up for lifeguards

L thinks it's sus that all these experienced beachgoers are making mistakes like this and that nobody's managed to call a lifeguard in time. a couple of lifeguards have reported seeing a bit of a commotion where victims are drowning, but get out there too late, and it seems like all of them are physically not able to hold their arms up

here are the rest of my notes in the planning doc and some excerpts:

L doesn't enrol in UQ (is light more of a QUT bitch) but does just like, show up? maybe he gives a talk? i think light is studying law because i want to be self fucking indulgent. so maybe L (via screen) gives a lecture for criminal justice students and starts asking people what they think about the nobbo murders. someone's like so you think it's definitely murder and not just people drowning? L is like you're a beach city. drownings aren't uncommon, but this many drownings from people who are all familiar with the ocean terrain and beach safety makes it very unlikely.

(translator's note: UQ is university of queensland, QUT is queensland university of technology)

He picks light out from the audience because he's already profiled him and they have a discussion

later on L shows up physically at the cafe where light works and asks if he'd like to go swimming. while light is working on how to get out of that one, L goes, oh no, I've forgotten my beach wear. let's go play tennis instead.

lights like internal monologue there's a surf shop next door. light yagami would probably just offer to lend L a rashie or say they can go next door to pick one up. if I take this out, will he thinks I'm suspicious? does he think I'm nobbo? but I can't go swimming or he'll realise the truth.

(translator's note: 'rashie' is aussie slang for 'rash guard' or 'rash shirt' and it's swimwear that is a shirt)

while light is freaking out, L is like, actually there's a mini golf place near mermaid beach I really want to try, so let's go swimming another time. light's like well okay

so they go have a gay game of mini golf. l asks light how mermaid beach got its name and if he thinks mermaids are real. they discuss nobbo.

why did i name him nobbo

misa is light's coworker btw. at some point she also becomes a mermaid and light has to stop her rom exposing them both because she is not very careful

light entered the pool alone so got all three powers - hydrokinesis, cryohydrokinesis and thermocryokinesis

and here's. fuckin, whatever

also the only important line in this au

[sorinethemastermind]

For the cuddle dialogue! How about Rayla and Callum with 7 and 13?? <3

Callum opened his eyes, the familiar ceiling of his room at the Moon Nexus coming into focus above him. He pulled an arm out from under the covers and rolled over, draping it over Rayla, still sleeping beside him. This, he thought, is an improvement over the last time we were here.

He watched the slow rise and fall of her chest as she slept, listening to the whisper of her breathing. She was perfect. This morning was perfect.

The sunlight filtering through the high, arched windows slanted across her face and she yawned, moving instinctively away from the light and burrowing into Callum's chest. Some part of him still couldn't believe that this was real. Why hadn't they been doing this from the start?

Well, he knew why. But still.

He let her wake up slowly, enjoying every quiet moment of their first peaceful morning in... well, it sort of felt like forever. The world was saved. They were saved. Every day could be like this. From now until forever. That was a better kind for forever, Callum thought.

"Callum?" Rayla asked, groggily. "Why are you lookin' at me like that?"

"Oh, nothing." Callum replied dreamily.

"Stop it." she laughed, batting him away.

"Never!" he teased, wrapping his arms around her again. "I think someone needs a good cuddle."

"Callum!" she squealed, laughing. Her silver hair was in his face, and he planted a big kiss on top of her head. But his victory didn't last long, because then there was a pillow flying into his face and he fell backwards, nearly toppling off the bed.

"I told you these were dangerous weapons." Rayla said, standing over him with her pillows raised defensively.

"Only in the right hands."

She threw another pillow at him. "Quit being all soppy."

"Can't help it." Callum said, tossing the pillow right back. Then he dove forward, pinning her to the bed again. She let out a small shriek of surprise.

"You're only winning cause I just woke up!"

"Mhm." Callum replied, quickly snatching the pillow away before she could reach it. "I'm not letting go, so you can stop fighting it."

She sighed, relaxing into his arms and resting her head on his shoulder. Her hair, still unruly from sleep, tickled his face.

"Hm. Fine. I do like cuddlin'."

"So do I win then-"

They were interrupted by the door opening, both of their faces tinging bright pink as Runaan stuck his head in.

"Lujanne wanted me to inform you that breakfast-" he broke off, eyes roving over the scene before he let out a long sigh. "Nevermind. You're clearly busy."

He withdrew his head and closed the door before either of them could say anything. Which was probably good, because all they seemed to be able to do afterwards was giggle.

[mixtapedoh]

wonwoo + uni concept cause you know i’m a slut for what we’ve created

⋰˚☆ jeon wonwoo x university! au . . .

he feels overwhelmingly shy when you're close to him like this — bodies nearly touching as you lean closer to him on the campus shuttle. the football game being held that evening accounted for all of the people on the bus and the unusual proximity you were faced with now, as there were more people than accommodations the shuttle could account for. you murmured an apology as your shoulder knocked into him, and your hand brushed against his, electrifying warmth in contrast to the heatless railing. "we should have left earlier to beat the crowd," you suggested, but as wonwoo watches the softness of your lips shaping the almost conspiratorial commiseration and feels heat creep up the back of his neck, he can't help but think he'd like to be in a thousand cramped busses on a thousand crowded campuses just to be this close to you again, near enough to see the blemishes on your cheeks and the myriad emotions swirling in your eyes.

he cleared his throat, but his voice was still deep in his chest when he spoke. "i don't mind."

the comment was enough to pass his shyness to you, a triumph wonwoo would quietly revel in for the rest of the evening, as the both of you made it to your building, and at the hallway where you would part ways to make it to your respective dorm rooms, said a lingering farewell.

"we're still on for a study date on wednesday, right?"

a date. wonwoo still gets a particular kind of rush from you calling the mutual study sessions the two of you had a date, juvenile as that might sound. the ambiguity of it let him read into it what he would, and he rather liked to think that you enjoyed the vagueness of it, too, and that's why you insisted on calling them such.

"yes, of course. and, umm..." wonwoo wasn't sure what confidence spurned him on, but you took a step closer at his words — reaching back into his personal space just like you had on that campus shuttle, though there was no need for your proximity, now, other than that which you made for yourself. "coffee? after? only if you still want to, then, and it's not too late".

which it would be, of course. the both of your course and work schedules meant you only ever got to study together late in the evening, finishing only when the night came in close to blanket you both in sometime quiet and still. coffee at that hour would be laughable. the only thing more ridiculous than coffee after studying all night would be the impulse to consider asking if he could kiss you, or hold your hand, or listen to you ramble about your course load, or the professor you were warring with, or the every minutia of your life that wouldn't amount to much of anything, in the end, but the feeling that he was collecting little pieces of you that he could hold dear for as long as you'd allow.

but you were smiling something beautiful, the corners of your perfectly transfixing mouth stretching upward, cradling all the joy you were capable of holding as you agreed, "yeah... let's do it. coffee. i'd really like that."

send me an idol + a concept & i’ll give you a little moodboard & blurb

[erinwantstowrite]

the newest doodle has me in tears bc

Barb: i think bruce is contagious. my dad just brought home a child who’s calling himself “a partner in (solving) crime”

Bruce *sweating* : there is a logical explanation to this

the solving is in parenthesis because peter varies from crime solver to crime causer at any point in time