#Which brainworms will I feed?

[risestarkiss]

○○○○ We're down to the last few hours. The Mikey and Donnie videos are neck in neck! 😯

It's up to you...

Which boy shall appear on my channel next?

🧡💜🧡💜

Viewers Choice!

I'm at a crossroads, so I'll let you choose...

For Reference: "Being Big Red" is this post. "The Fashionista" is this post.

What do you want to see next? 😁💜

[lightbulb-warning]

so has anyone figured out WHY there is the Need To Share our Artworks™ or is it just the vibes and our Soul apparently

[blueblurseptember]

suddenly feeling very ill after interpreting tianlang-jun and su xiyan's relationship and qijiu's as foils to bingqiu's. all three relationships suffered greatly because of a horrific big misunderstanding, aggravated further by a lack of communication thereafter.

su xiyan, yue qingyuan, and shen yuan are all similar in their decision not to communicate the truth out of guilt, believing that they have failed and have (though unwillingly) abandoned their loved one thus deserve no forgiveness, just suffering.

meanwhile, the common denominator between tianlang-jun, shen jiu, and binghe is the self-loathing born out of the fact that despite the perceived betrayal of their loved one, forgiveness still won out (even before they knew of the truth and received the apology they were due) and the love they feel have persevered.

unfortunately for tianlang-jun and su xiyan, tianlang-jun didn't even get to find out the truth in the original plot, and it had simply been too late in the svsss universe.

same goes for qijiu, shen jiu doesn't get to find out the truth in pidw. meanwhile, yue qingyuan musters the courage to confess his truth too late in svsss; the shen qingqiu that awoken from that one qi deviation all those years ago is no longer the same one he'd loved—which interestingly can be, in some way, paralleled with how shen yuan initially believed that the luo binghe who emerged from the abyss is no longer his beloved white lotus binghe and thus his own lack of attempt to ask forgiveness and explain his actions to binghe upon his return.

[devotedlystrangewizard]

at least im not alone in my relapse

[cheswirls]

every time i get sent moro or maru art my head mcfuckin explodes

[modern-gremlin]

Morning Errands | Sebastian SDV — Married Life 🔞

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Pairing: Sebastian (SDV) x afab!reader

Summary: You need Sebastian's help with beginning-of-season errands. If only there was a way you could "wake him up".

Tags: Husband!Sebastian, Smut, established relationship, detailed descriptions of sex, a dash of fluff. NSFW Tags below the cut.

Word Count: 2,900 (I did it, a fic under 5,000 words lol) A/N: Fun Fact — this idea started as a non-SDV related adult animation concept I was in early development of. I unfortunately do not have a lot of time for animating things anymore, so it's definitely more feasible to write it down. PLUS, I just love quickly shooting these stories out — better spat out here than rotting in my brain!!

It was really fun to rewrite it to fit the Stardew Valley world; I think it just gives me so much more to work with. Especially when it comes to writing about the world in detail. (and I get to feed my Sebastian brainworms <33) Hope you enjoy the read xoxo

NSFW Tags: morning sex, foreplay (dry humping), some dirty talk (mostly teasing), oral (male receiving), overstimulation, creampie

"Seb? Seeeeebb, it's 6:40," you say softly with a gentle shake of his arm, "we gotta get going." Still unwilling to move from his comfortable spot on the bed, Sebastian stifles a sleepy groan in response. It's always been hard to wake him up — that's something you knew even before you married him. Working freelance comes with the blessing and curse of setting your own work schedule, which means late night cramming sessions are a normal occurrence. You don't really blame him for wanting to sleep in, but today, he promised to help you with your ever-growing list of morning chores.

You run your fingers through his hair, lightly brushing the dark strands off his cheek with the back of your fingers. He just looks so peaceful when he's asleep; it's really such a shame to wake him up like this. Especially when he wraps his arm around you to cuddle against your thigh. It's almost tempting to sink yourself back into his arms and shut the whole world away under the protection of your shared bed covers. Almost — but you know better than to underestimate your beginning-of-season errands. It doesn't help that you also agreed to host a family dinner with Robin and Demetrius this evening. So much to do, so little time. In hindsight, you wish you planned this all a little better.

With a little more force this time, you try to shake him awake. "Mmph… just a few more minutes…" he mumbles while releasing his arms from your thigh, now lying on his back. At least he's able to get a few words out. That's a good sign, you think to yourself. You head toward your bathroom, hoping that by the time you're done brushing your teeth he'll be sitting upright. Maybe.

A soft, cool breeze enters the small opening of your window as you pass through the hallway. It's remarkable how quickly the seasons change in the valley. From your view in the bathroom, you can catch a glimpse of your summer crops, now reduced to wilted clumps in the soil. You'll definitely need Seb's help with this today. You take a little extra time to brush your teeth and wash your face, trying to buy him time to get up. He's gotta be awake by now, right?

You're not surprised to see him still splayed on the bed, eyes just barely fluttering at the sound of your footsteps entering the room. "Seb, it's almost 7 now. I really need your help," you plead sweetly, hoping the cute tone you've adopted would prompt him to move with more haste. He just smiles and offers a curt, "Mhm," in response, eyes still shut. Wow, he's really out of it, huh? You might need to switch strategies.

If you married Sebastian knowing that he's not exactly a morning person, he should also count on the fact that you're always up for a little bit of mischief — because now, you've got a plan that's basically foolproof. Creeping up to the bed, you slowly plant a knee on each side of his body to gently straddle his lap. With your chest pressed against his, you place kisses on his face. "Sebby, come on" you whisper tenderly into his ear, "you can get up for me, can't you?" He lets out an amused huff out of his nose and wraps an arm around the small of your back. He's definitely more awake now, but perhaps a little more provocation will do the trick.

You kiss along his jaw down to the side of his neck, playing with the collar of his t-shirt with your fingers. His eyes lazily open when you stop, now meeting his gaze from where your cheek rests on his chest. "Morning, sleepyhead. Remember those errands I need help with?" you tease. He lovingly smirks at your remark, placing a hand on your head to gently stroke your hair.

"Mm… what time is it?" he asks in a raspy voice. You answer his question with a light pinch of his cheek,

"Probably seven, by now. We're running a little late, y'know?"

The fact that 7AM is considered late to you is something he's still getting used to. If left to his own devices, he'd absolutely sleep the day away and have his breakfast at 3PM. Yet, he tries his best to slip into your daily schedule because that'd mean he'd get more time to see your face throughout the day, wouldn't it? But you know what they say, old habits die hard, and right now his old habits have him basically glued to the bed.

"What are the chances I can convince you to push these errands to tomorrow?" he asks cheekily.

"Hm… slim to none," you reply. "With the dinner party today and the fair coming up in a few weeks, it's gonna be really tough to–" You notice his eyes droop as you speak. "Seb?" He startles awake at the sudden call of his name.

"M' sorry, babe. Promise I'm not doing it on purpose," Sebastian rubs his eyes and yawns. "It's just... hard to stay awake."

With a smile, you shake your head and sigh, "what am I gonna do with you?"

"Hm…I don't know. What are you going to do with me?" He places his hands onto your back again, looking down at you with a suggestive smirk.

Leaning in closer to his face, just barely grazing your mouth over his, you whisper, "I might have a few ideas."

Placing your hands around his neck, thumbs resting against his jaw, you pull him closer into a deep kiss. He tightens the grip around your waist in response, pulling you closer toward him. God, if he wasn't awake a few minutes ago, he definitely is waking up now. He takes your mouth into his, enveloping your lips entirely and gently brushing them with his tongue. You can feel your pulse quickening as your breasts press firmly against him; an urge slowly building and itching at you from below. Unable to contain yourself, you lower your hips to grind against the thick bulge beneath you. You can't help but smile at how hard he already is; grinning against his tongue.

You pull away to shift your weight onto his clothed cock, gasping at how it rubs against you. "At least one part of you is up," you jeer, rocking slow movements against his length. He muses at your words and brushes his hair away from his face, granting him a better view of your body on top of his.

"Can you blame me?" he smiles, his sleepy eyes scanning your form. Running thumbs underneath the hem of your shirt, he gingerly lifts up the fabric to reveal your bare chest steadily bouncing at the rhythm your clothed pussy rubs against him. "Fuck me," he gasps breathily, "what a way to wake up."

His exasperation makes you laugh, motivating you to grind your hips with more fervour. "I'm glad this is working," you admit, "because we have just– so much– to do…" Your words are broken up with every sway of your hips. He pulls your shirt off your arms as you continuously pleasure yourself with his dick, moaning and creating a wet spot on his boxers. He just watches as you use him, in absolute awe by how your body reacts to his. His head slowly falls backward onto the pillow, closing his eyes to take in the stimulation. Then suddenly, you stop.

His eyes dart open again at your weight being lifted off his lap, ready to pull you back onto him. You move his hands away and lower your face to his lap. "Nuh uh. You gotta wake up," you chastise before pulling down his boxers. He groans breathily when his thick cock springs free, smacking his toned stomach from the speed of your movements. Without warning, you spit on his tip and run your palm against his shaft, causing him to tense at the sudden sensation. For a while, he can only stare at you with furrowed brows and complete admiration.

"I should sleep in more often," he teases while grinning at his own remark. But soon his sly grin is replaced by a strained grit because you wrap your fingers around his fat length, stroking him at an unfair pace. He perches himself up by the elbows, watching you fist his cock from base to tip. "Fuck, baby. You gotta slow down or ill–" You lower yourself to lick his balls, dragging your way up the shaft.

"Can't, Sebby," you say, stopping at the tip. "Can't have you falling asleep on me." Taking his length in your hand, you guide his cock into the warmth of your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head.

He instinctually places his hands on the top of your head as he throws back his own. The bed gently shakes at the bobbing of your head, catching and swallowing his length into your throat. It's all so sudden; so frustratingly sexy that he can hardly take it. With the hand that grips at your hair, he tries to pry you off him — hoping to gain some reprieve. But this only invites you to suck on him with more excitement. It's just too hard to resist when he praises you in his gravelly, morning voice. "Holy fuck, babe. You're too good at tha–" You can feel his cock twitch in your mouth as he pushes you away from him; he must be close.

With a gentle tug of your hair, you give in and pull away. You and Sebastian heave heavily, the latter trying to regain his composure. He's usually the one to make you melt underneath him, so you can't help but marvel at his flustered expression. "You awake now?" you triumph with a mischievous smile. He picks himself up to stare into you; the look in his eyes tell you that you're in for it now.

Releasing his grip, he sits himself upright and leans toward you. "Hm, yeah. I think I am," he says while returning your expression, "turn around."

Without a question, you turn yourself around, resting your chest on the bed while lifting your ass toward him. You wiggle your hips tauntingly in his direction until you're greeted by a firm smack — a small yelp escapes your lips from the impact. "So impatient," he chides while soothing the sting with his palm, "well, you got what you wanted. I'm up." He slaps your ass again before leaning behind you, pressing his chest to your back to whisper into your ear, "unless…there's something else you wanted."

Just the sound of his condescending tone sends shivers down your spine, and he knows it. He hooks a finger by your dripping slit and tugs at your underwear, causing the fabric to bundle tightly against your clit. All semblances of your mischief has disappeared, vanished with his scolding and now you're moaning his name into the covers. You can tell he's enjoying every lewd noise you make, because now he's tugging at your panties harder, trying to elicit a bigger reaction.

"Well, now that I'm awake, let's go over our to-do list, hm?" He releases your underwear, only to slip his cock beneath the fabric and vigorously rub your clit.

"Seb… I can't–" you plead, eager to feel him plunge inside you. He places his hands on your waist, stroking soothing circles with his thumbs against your back.

"Don't worry, baby. You'll get it, after we go through the list. Okay?" he coos.

Stumbling your words in between moans, you begin listing the day's tasks. "W-we… need to clear off the crops…and prepare the fields."

"Mhm," he hums while wetting his tip along your slit. "What's next?"

"Clear off the weeds in front of the b-baaaarn–" You words shake as he teases your entrance with his tip, gliding it to catch your slick. "Then go to Pierre's… to pick up ingredients for tonight." Your legs quiver as he prods your wet cunt, not fully entering.

"Is there…anything else?" Sebastian meaninglessly asks, his own voice getting shaky in anticipation. He doesn't really care what's on the to-do list, not at the moment at least. No doubt he'll have to ask about it later, because all he cares about now is making you beg to be railed.

"We might also need to–" This time, he slowly pushes his cock through your wet folds, slipping himself inch by inch into your cunt until his thighs are flush against you. His size fills you entirely, stopping any words from escaping your mouth.

He lets out a breathy moan as he feels your pussy clench around him, still gritting his teeth to continue, "We might need to what? I didn't… catch the last part." He nearly pulls himself out entirely while waiting for your response.

"We…might need to–" You breathe in heavily while his dick pulses inside you. "Seb, please," you beg in a petulant tone. Your cries are so needy and desperate, but you don't care. There's no pride between you two, only true love and the aching desire to be fucked. Lucky for you, the feeling is mutual. Deciding he's equally impatient, he fucks his full length back into you.

"I think I get the gist," he says with a satisfied smile before plunging himself in and out of your cunt. He so badly wants to praise how well you took his teasing, but he's almost completely breathless. Lost for words at how tight you are, how well your pretty pussy takes him, and utterly smitten by the way you moan his name between thrusts. He wants to pound more of them out of you — a reminder to everyone in town that you've chosen him and he's the one fucking you the way you deserve.

Really, this is just one of the many moments he's reminded just how lucky he is. He feels so lucky that you decided to move to this boring town. So lucky that you stuck around despite his icy exterior, and miraculously lucky that you fell in love with him. Now he gets to wake up beside you everyday, fuck you like no one else can, and navigate life's mundanities with the person he loves. Morning errands be damned; nothing ever feels like a chore now that you're his.

He pounds you harder now — as if he's trying to bury his intentions deep inside you so you can feel his gratitude. Because even all his sly remarks and bullied thrusts are just another way of praising you; another way to tell you he loves you without saying it out loud. Your pussy clenches down on him so tightly, grasping onto his praises like your life depended on it. Ready to cum all over his cock to confirm that you feel the same. But even if your cunt wasn't being obvious, your words certainly were.

"Seb– it feels so. Fucking. Good," you whine in between thrusts. You try to warn him of your impending burst, but the arch of your back signals your orgasm much faster than you can speak. Backing your ass further into him, you accept his length against your cervix until you feel your release. You convulse around him, whispering thank you's under your breath. The only sound reaching his ears are your muffled cries of pleasure and the squeaking of the bed. He fucks you through your orgasm, but even after you come down from the high, he's still not done.

He rails your stimulated pussy over and over again, causing you to reach out your hand behind you to slow him down. "S-sebastian, I just came. Slower, it's so f-fast"

Grabbing your arm by the wrist, he plows deeper into you. "Sorry, baby. Can't," he says breathily, "We got too much to do today, remember?" You turn your head back to look over your shoulder and flash him a blissed-out smile, silently laughing at his twist of your words.

Reaching around to your front, he rubs circles around your puffy clit while he fucks his last few, sloppy blows inside you. "So close, babe. M'so fucking…close" he says with gritted teeth. His movements on your bud stokes the fire within you, threatening to shatter you once again. With one last buck of his hips against yours, he shoots his load deep inside your pussy, filling you to the brim with in white. He groans profanities as he sputters small thrusts into you. The warmth of his semen hitting against you is the last straw, sending you into your second orgasm of the day.

Dropping your wrist from his grip, he leans forward onto your back, pulling out slightly causing his cum to spill out of you. You breathe in unison, heavily and laboured as you try to regain your bearings. Maybe it's been ten minutes or maybe it was an hour, but you both lay beside each other, unbothered by the time that's passing you by.

When you both come down to your senses, your eyes lock onto his and suddenly you're both chuckling at the morning's happenings. With a bright-eyed smile, he takes your palm to rest on his cheek. Placing a kiss on your knuckles, he greets you to start the day.

"Good morning, honey."

[vecnuthy]

🪱🧠 Wiggly Wednesday 🧠🪱

Tagged by @just-my-latest-hyperfixation sending luscious dirt vibes your way to feed the babies 🖤🖤 I've had this brain worm wriggling around in my head for a while, but it requires spice and I really feel that I just cannot do spice, but, regardless, here's my nsfw maybe au brainworm that I have definitely already kind of written the beginning of:

Steve finds a handwritten note in the adult only section of Family Video that prompts him to choose a number between one and twelve, saying that it would be fun (wink wink). Steve eventually caves because he's bored and curious and writes a number down, then gets a tape a week later saying something along the lines of "Your choice awaits." Later that night, he finds out that it's basically the 80s version of a camboy video, and the guy in it loooves the sound of his own voice, and, looky there, Steve does too. A lot. He likes the way the guy (Eddie, obvious to us) touches himself even more, and by the end of the video, Steve is shaking and sweaty and in the sweetest pain bc the guy on the video said he couldn't touch himself, only watch.

And Steve does what he's told.

Or at least he does this time, because he's just so engrossed in what this tattooed guy with the slightly gravelly voice is doing, and he hates that he can't see his face, and he's just kind of frozen until the guy on the screen sets him free, but then he succumbs far too quickly.

It's the first of a few tapes that appear.

There are more notes asking for Steve's thoughts and for more numbers, and Steve's frustrated as all hell because he's jerking off too damn much, and he's trying to do one night stands that just aren't cutting it because those girls are just not this guy, and the guys are just not this guy, and his hand isn't satisfying, because he just wants that guy's hands on him, his voice in his ear, muttering the nastiest things that he can't even fathom, that make him blush shades of red that he can feel all over his body through to his bones, that drip like hot honey down his spine and make his fingers tingle and his chest squeeze and stomach swoop so wildly that he want to scream.

But yeah, it's bound to be a multichapter thing or a longggg oneshot kind of thing, which is intimidating, so who knows if it'll happen, but. Brainworms.

Tagging @steddieas-shegoes @sidekick-hero @cuips-not-cute @corrodedbisexual @thefreakandthehair @griefabyss69 bc I feel like y'all have brainworms 😌🫶

[possumcollege]

NOBODY needs to be defending these people. Major publishers, studios, streaming services, Tesla, Apple, Adobe, Amazon, social media companies- there isnt a single altruistic bone caught in their teeth. Profit from the output of exploited and captive labor IS their product now. When their contacts look like the one in question, the company is clearly stating that shareholders are the customers, not us!

Why else would it be anything but a stupid idea for Amazon to just nuke the majority of Comixology's self-published titles when they consolidated their services? If our experience was really foremost in their minds, why would they repeatedly purge, censor, demonitize, bury, and delete popular accounts with robust followings if not to allay the moral brainworms of shareholders and investors?

Forfeiting rights to our IP is not a "shitty deal," it's surrendering any potential ability to make money off of your own creative work. It's selling your property to a board of accountants to pitch into a portfolio. It's theirs to trot out as long as it's profitable and bury the instant its projected profit dips too close to the cost of maintenance. Hell, we've seen services drop popular series just because their projected profits started to flatten out! Mothballing it also has the added bonus of removing it from the market to further minimize potential competition. Like how there just weren't spider man movies for ages because the owner of the property didn't think it was worth developing but worth too much to sell.

They will make more money from suing you for trying to reclaim IP they mothballed than you did selling it to them in the first place. I guaranteee their budget for lawsuits is a lot deeper than the one they pay their "original" artists from.

By virtue of being a big, profitable, corporation, "their" IP is going to have an astronomically higher value in a court of law than any individual creator. The financial "damage" will be higher for infringing on their copyrights than any amount you can claim on your own. When it becomes theirs, their connections, their infrastructure, their reputation makes it an asset with much more value than you or I can possibly claim. So if you try to steal a bite back from them it's a bite of a *potentially* multimillion-dollar series. In their eyes, they bought the totality of your work, which you agreed was worth the price they gave you. It's value becomes more dependent on who owns it than whether it's even good.

You may not have the same potential to become flash-in-the-pan, short-term succesful without their resources, but you will still own your rights to distribute, alter, preserve, promote, and negotiate your share if you still own your work. That is worth everything as a creator who is passionate about what you've made and committed to protecting it.

The most effective power we can exercise as artists is our ability to say, "no" when someone else wants to pay us a disadvantageous fraction of our worth. You may lose potentially lucrative opportunities but "opportunities" presented by companies like Facebook or Twitter, whose real product is a platform for ads and data collection, with content as bait, are not opportunities to thrive on as independent artists. This specifically is an opportunity for the company to acquire property.

The myth that the publisher's strength is something for us to exploit, without them getting the lion's share is a trap that they feed from at will.

People like the poster up top are opportunists who see the process as a pipeline towards trading low-investment content for financial treats and maybe a share of ad revive. They're stalking horses for companies to exploit more talented but less experienced artists who are facing a daunting and overwhelming market where their work becomes harder and harder to show, let alone sell. A quick deal may feel like a win but it's selling the cow to save money on bottling the milk. Artists like this serve the publisher by making it seem like signing away your rights are just a necessary part of the game. However it's a game they are playing with exceedingly cheap stakes that weren't going to succeed on their own merit. So what if Mr. Business Perspective loses rights to his sexy Mario Bros. parody to a huge company? The point was always to unload it because it's a product, a bartering chip, a trinket. He's a Business Man, so he sees tactics that maximize profits to the business as maximizing their ability to buy whatever shiny tripe he cranks out. The business is his customer, not the reader. The business is his ally, not the creative community. Fuck him and fuck anyone who tells you the exposure is worth a damn if you don't retain rights to your work.

[angel-of-the-moons]

so so sorry to invade your inbox again but I have another new khonshu thot to share with you🤭

imagine that he starts to grasp the back of your neck randomly, especially while you’re out moon knighting and doing surveillance or smth

his hands are big enough that they just about envelope your entire neck but I digress

and you never question it, thinking it’s just his usual possessiveness at play or maybe wanting to remind you he’s there (or vice versa)—or, you think outlandishly, maybe he likes to feel your heartbeat under his fingertips (which always quickens when he does this, much to your chagrin)

you don’t really get it. not until he bends you over the end of your bed, anyway, pushing his knee between your thighs and wedging your ass up against his hips while he grabs you by the nape of the neck and presses your face into the mattress.

after that, there’s the added stimulus of being keenly reminded each time of just how much he likes to breathe for you—controlling just how much air is able to enter your lungs, enhancing every sensation with the heady dizziness that accompanies it, intensifying the inevitable pleasure that he draws from you as he plays your body like the instrument he’s long since memorized

anyways yeah khonshu with a breath play kink and a particular penchant for how pretty he thinks your neck is—especially with his hand wrapped around it like a necklace👀

BACK AGAIN FEEDING MY STARVING BRAINWORM I SEE

Are you trying to kill me? Because

You just know the old man also wants people to know how well he's rearranging your guts, too. Wants them to know that you're his. You're in an apartment with shitty walls, or a cheap motel, like--

NSFW ASF BELOW THE CUT, MINORS DNI

Khonshu x Fem!MK!Reader blurb

Your back arches off the mattress, the springs squeaking in protest as your body's weight is forced down by the massive hand pushing your head down into the blankets; thick fingers wrapped snugly around the back of your neck, the heavy beat of your pulse echoing through his fingertips.

Your air had been all but cut off, only coming back to you fully in short, harsh gasps punctuated by every hard thrust of his hips into yours, soft linen grazing your sweaty skin.

The repeated cut-off of oxygen in time with every throb in your womb had your vision going starry with every roll of his hips against yours.

You bite so hard into your blankets you thought your teeth tore holes into them, by now.

The sound of his cock slipping in and out of you effortlessly was deafening in your ears, the sinful slap of flesh just barely beneath that, making you choke out a broken moan.

"Now, now..." His voice says, just barely managing to keep the tone of pleasure out of his words as his fingers eased the pressure from your neck, letting blissful oxygen flood back into your lungs, your spotty vision returning.

"That's better, isn't it?" He crooned.

"Y-you..." You groaned, biting your lip when one of the thumping veins in his shaft grazed deliciously against the one perfect spot inside of you.

"Do not be quiet now, little dove." Khonshu hissed, thrusting into you so sharply you couldn't help but let out a loud yelp.

You could just barely hear your neighbor's tv droning through the shitty drywall.

"Let them hear you." He sighed blissfully, pulling back almost entirely, just leaving the tip of him resting inside of you long enough to make you ache for him to fill you once more.

"I control this body." He gave your throat another squeeze, making your air wheeze from your throat pitifully and holding it before he released you again, "You do as I command."

Khonshu then snapped his hips back against you, filing that empty void in your depths once again, watching with tainted pleasure at how you buried your face into your blankets to muffle your sweet, ambrosial voice.

His hand went from around your neck, to fisting in your hair, yanking your head back and making you bend your spine at an almost painful angle as he roughly fucks into you again; this time your mouth was uncovered, your moan uninhibited.

"Yeesss... that's it." He growled, the weathered bone of his beak grazing your shoulder as he pulls you back to meet each of his thrusts, your fists knotting in your blanket.

You couldn't help but hiccup, another cry coming from you as his grip bruised the soft skin on your hip, your ears flaming hot with embarrassment as someone in the room next to you pounds on the wall for you to keep it down.

Khonshu chuckled darkly, keeping his tight grip on the soft locks of your hair as he continued to push each sweet sound from between your plush lips; the stinging of your scalp just adding more fuel to the proverbial fire he had ignited inside of you.

"Let them know who you belong to, pet."

[velvees-archive]

Feel free to ignore this for sounding ☝️🤓 but the reason he calls him Wright in middle school is because in Japanese they only ever call eachother by their last names. Even cooler still, they never use honorifics when referring to eachother ("Mitsurugi-kun";"Naruhodo-san") which indicates familiarity among male friends.

My own take.... this is bound to be a seriously cute point of contention when it comes to their romantic relationship. Imo Miles specifically would only ever use "Wright" in public/daily conversation 💕 I feel like a "Phoenix" from him would be quite rare (and very much appreciated lol)

ohh please never worry abt coming across like that HAHA i absorb this kind of info like a sponge :)

MILES USING PHOENIX RARELY AND IN MORE INTIMATE SETTINGS I THINK I JUST DIED?? /pos i’m absorbing your hc and using it for when i write an applicable fic.

i have alwaysss subscribed to the idea that miles and phoenix are a “reserved in public” type of couple and this affirmation is feeding my brainworms. they’re the cutest. thank you please give me more

[sillystappen]

A story of a prince who failed to become king being used for Daniel rn on tiktok is feeding my brainworms so… MAXIEL STORY PITCH

In this kingdom every region has a prince. Of course a prince is not royalty, rather a candidate trained to be. Then those princes have to prove they are worthy of becoming king through trials. These trials have 5 stages, starting with intelligence, then resourcefulness, then empathy, then physical, then a final test between the top 3 of which is always different every year. The only time there are two candidates from the same region are a King and another prince.

The winner of the trials is pronounced king and ruler until the trials recommence the following year. The current King, Seb, has been ruling for 4 years and Daniel is his protege. They come from the same region after all. In his first three years Daniel doesn’t progress very far in the trials, usually being outranked by more popular or more experienced candidates.

Then Seb announces he won’t be competing in the trials and steps down - making Daniel the sole representative. That year, he does a lot better than he thought, only getting knocked out pretty early on in stage 4. The new king is now Lewis and the extra prince is some guy called Nico. This repeats for the next year until the following one Nico and Lewis make the final two together and Daniel joins them as the third. He doesn’t know how the fuck he managed it but he’s thrilled and to see people in the stands wearing his colours of Navy just means the world.

He also sees his trainer and mentor Christian talking with a blonde haired boy behind the armoury but decides to think nothing of it.

Daniel ends up out of the final stage pretty quickly and watches and Lewis and Nico practically tear each other apart. Nico wins but only stays king for a year, realising this is not what he wanted at all.

During that year, Daniel finds out the blonde boy is Max and that they’re going to start training him so he can be the next prince when Daniel does become King. Max is a bit cold and twatish at first but slowly opens up to him and accepts Daniel’s help. They strike up a good friendship and work well together.

Then Lewis regains his crown and passes a rule that 2 princes from each region shall be able to participate. Which means Max can compete alongside him. Daniel is excited.

Daniel once again gets 3rd and Max skyrockets to 4th, missing out by only a fraction. It sucks but Daniel is so proud of him, emotions swirling in his chest.

They stick together a lot during interviews and training, even just hanging out together during breaks and it’s nice. Max is just so lovely and beautiful and Daniel wishes one of them was a woman so he could just kiss Max no problem. But alas.

Max however, doesn’t have those same reservations and kisses him where he has Daniel pinned down in a field after a sparring session. And gosh it feels amazing and perfect.

“We can’t tell anyone - we’d be banned, stripped of our titles, or worse.”

“I understand, Maxy, it can be our secret.”

Max is the sweetest thing to ever enter Daniel’s life. They do have a relationship, as unconventional as it may be, and it’s one of the best things ever. They agree to keep what happens in the trials separate, and try their hardest even if they have to face each other.

But of course, it happens. During the physical trial Max pulls a stupid double move on Daniel and ends up forcing Daniel’s blade into the both of them - putting them both out of contention and having really shitty but not deadly stab woulds in their thighs.

Max, of course, argues that Daniel is at fault because he “moved quickly into his space” which is a load of bullshit and Daniel lets him know that. They don’t talk to each other after that, not for Daniel’s lack for trying after a few days, or even train together. It’s effectively a break up as they couldn’t keep what happened away from their relationship. Daniel is devastated and so hurt that Max won’t talk to him… that he stops. He doesn’t tell anyone other than Christian and just quits.

In fact, Max isn’t sure if Daniel is training at all. Christian introduces this new guy Sergio to be the second prince and Max asks, finally, what happened to Daniel.

“He quit Max. Came up to me and said I’m done, find someone else to replace me.”

“Why?” Why did he quit. Why didn’t he tell me. Why did he disappear after the incident last year.

“Said he couldn’t do it anymore, and that he found something more important than being King but lost it. Doesn’t have the heart anymore.”

And Max doesn’t understand what that means. What could be more important than fighting to be king? It was their livelihood, the ultimate goal.

Max continues to compete and Sergio proves a decent second prince and really helps out when it’s them and Lewis in the top three. Max ends up winning and immediately gives Sergio a top position in his court as a thanks. He also offers Lewis a position saying that his insight would be incredibly valuable. Lewis actually agrees and the two of them form a rather unlikely friendship through mutual respect.

He doesn’t hear from Daniel. He thought he might, if he finally won, but he didn’t. It worries him because he doesn’t even know if Daniel is alive. He hopes he is but it’s been 3 years. He only allows himself to confront it when he’s alone at night, tracing the scar on his thigh from Daniel’s sword.

He keeps his crown for the next year. Sergio stays in his court and Lewis turns down his offer, saying that there’s something more important for him than this.

“The power, the wealth, it’s all great. But after a while Max, the novelty wears off and you’re left with what is truly important. That’s why we don’t have a long term ruler Max. Nobody good would want to be.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You wouldn’t. Not yet. Maybe soon though.”

“Can I still ask you things from time to time?”

“Sure Max. Come visit if you need me. We’d be happy to see you.”

Max doesn’t question who we is but he assumes it’s Lewis’ family. He has spoken of them often in the past year after all.

It’s during the third year of Max’s reign that it clicks. He sees Sergio with his wife and thinks about how he would give his crown to be like that with Daniel. And shit, Daniel. Oh how he loves Daniel. How he misses Daniel more than anything. But Daniel has gone, without a trace.

He thinks about changing the law so that men can be together and not shunned for it. Especially when two young boys from an old slightly run down region make their way to the castle and ask for his help because they have been exiled for their relationship. He gives them a room in the castle and makes sure they are treated well. He of course asks Sergio for his support on the matter who gives it easily and the next day it’s passed.

People had mixed opinions but the majority of the princes, even a couple old kings (Seb, Kimi, heck even Nico) showed support and this quieted the protesting crowd.

Max had hoped that Daniel would maybe show face but he didn’t. Max didn’t want a public call, god that would be far too embarrassing. ‘Hey remember that guy I trained and competed with 5 years ago, I am desperately in love with him and need to find him in the hopes that he feels the same.’ Yeah no that ain’t flying.

Instead he goes to Lewis. He travels alone and discreetly, leaving Sergio in charge of things in his absence. He find his house situated alongside a teal river and knocks. He is very surprised to see Nico Rosberg open the door.

“Uh hi I-“

“LEWIS, MAX IS HERE! Come in mate, make yourself comfortable.”

Max comes to learn over a very nice (vegan) dinner that Lewis and Nico are a thing but their trial fight nearly ruined them. Nico dropped out and retired because he didn’t want to be king when it meant he lost Lewis. Lewis took a little longer (and Max kicking his ass) to realise that too. Max is of course happy for them but…

“Why are you telling me this?”

“You and Daniel weren’t just friends, were you?”

And fuck that’s… Max grips the scar on his thigh through his clothes.

“…no.”

“Odds are Daniel didn’t want to end up hating you and couldn’t stand to let those trials tear you apart. Probably thought it was easier to just walk away.”

And Nico doesn’t sound speculative. He sounds certain. Lewis agrees.

“Especially if he didn’t see a way to repair anything at the time.”

Max can’t bring himself to say anything. He remembers Daniel’s attempts to talk to him but he shut him out - too angry to do anything.

“Help me find him, please.”

Nico and Lewis smile and tell him to go to the fields back home, the same one where they got together. When Max arrives there he notices that there’s a small house on the field, tucked into a patch of trees that was never there before.

He knocks on the door. It swings open and

“Max?”

“Daniel.”

"What are you- how did you-"

"I still love you. I'm so so sorry that it took me so long to finally find you. I would've done it sooner but you disappeared and I had to fight and be king and- nevermind. I love you so much and I haven't stopped thinking about you. And more than that, I am sorry about our fight and pushing you away. It's the biggest regret of my life."

"Max..." and Daniel kisses him and it feels just as magical as the first time, and even better than when he became king for the first time.

Daniel feels complete for the first time in his life. He knew he never needed to be king but he somehow has one in his hands. He relishes the feel of Max's skin and lips against his own and how Max babbles about how much he loves and missed him.

Daniel tells Max he forgave him long ago and where he has been in the meantime, visiting a couple different regions before coming back and building a house here in the hopes Max may find him.

Max traces Daniel's matching sword scar and asks "why didn't you find me if you wanted me too?"

"Was sure you'd moved on and didn't even want me around anymore. I definitely couldn't try to be king when I wanted you so much, it would've killed me to hurt you again. And, I didn't want our relationship to fall apart under the pressure of it all. I mean, it did, but not in a way you would never come back to me."

"I'd never not want you around. And I'm not letting you go again."

Max eventually has to return and Daniel comes with him. The people of the castle often see Daniel with Max's crown on his head, nestled among his curls. After all, Daniel may not be the ruling king but he's definitely the king of Max's heart.

[indieyuugure]

Now that we're entering into 2024, I'm asking some artists and writers that I follow:

1) What is the one piece you're most proud of from this past year?

2) What are some pieces that you would have liked more people to see? If you can include links, I'd love to go check them out!

3) What were your top three favorite pieces (art, comics, fics, etc) that someone else has made this past year?

(As always, no pressure to respond! Feel free to just ignore, or let me know if you'd rather I not send you these kinds of asks in the future.)

Sure, why not!

1-I’m by far the most proud of Rise of the Parallel. I’ve never made a complete comic like that before, and while there are several single drawings that I’m really proud of, I think ROTP takes the cake!

2-I don’t read a ton of fanfic(I feel like I barely have the time) but the ones I did read this year that really were so under appreciated were probably Zapped, which is a 2012 human-tmnt fic on Fanfiction.net by CelandineGranger; Black and Red/TMNT Dimension M, which is a future AU on tumblr by @zibanitu6969; Brainworm AU, which is a 2012 tmnt AU on tumblr by @cupcakeslushie

3-My favorite pieces others have made this year were probably, Duct Tape AU by @somerandomdudelmao, they dropped the idea, but it’s still absolutely fantastic and I actually really love it; basically all things made by @ezgurple because I would literally die for their art and comics, here’s one for example

Some others that I fell like didn’t fit into either category but are still super good are @truths33k3r4 AU fic, @gomengo50 AU art, and @linkeduniverse comics(Legend of Zelda, not TMNT)

And I think that’s my entire tumblr feed this past year 🙃

Good questions! :]

(Sorry if some of you didn’t wanna be mentioned)

[sentientcave]

And They Were Roommates

Got brainworms from Ceilidho talkin' about Fem!Soap and wrote out a few scenarios, and landed on this one as my favourite. Maybe personal trainer Soap and hot woman complimenting you in a dive bar bathroom Soap will get written about later on.

Part 1

Part 2 Here

(Fem!SoapxFemReader) ~2.2k words

Alcohol mention, but no other major flags at this point. (A few jokes about axe murderers) But also MDNI because this is an 18+ blog and there will probably be NSFW content in future parts

You had put an ad up online.

Your best friend had moved in with her boyfriend, leaving you with more apartment than you could afford. You had enough savings to get you through till the next month, but things were going to be dicey if you didn’t find someone to take over Fern’s half of the rent soon.

You’d had plenty of responses, mostly from men that gave you creepy vibes, even through digital means. You’d actually met with only one person, and she was allergic to cats, which made her a no go.

She’d been nice enough, though. If it really came down to it, maybe Fern would take Red Herring. She did love that fat orange bastard. And so do you. The thought of giving him up, even to Fern, doesn’t sit right.

Red meows loudly through the door as your key scrapes in the lock. You nudge him away with your foot while you enter the apartment, wary of any escape attempts. You feed him so he stops yelling at you, and boil water so you can feed yourself some instant ramen for dinner, and boot up your laptop to check the ad again.

A few more creepy responses, one of which is just a slightly blurry dick pic. You delete them. One that looks promising.

>Hey! I’m interested in the room if it’s still available! Can we meet soon? I’m a military gal and I’m being deployed again next week and I already gave notice at the last rat-hole I was renting. Seemed like 60 days was plenty of time for apartment hunting 60 days ago, but I haven’t found anything lol. Hopefully we get along! You can give me a call any time in the next few days, and we can set up a meet’n’greet. Thanks a bunch! Jamie MacTavish

Her number is in brackets below that, next to the soap emoji, for whatever reason.

No sense waiting around. You call the number right away.

“Hello?” The voice is a woman’s, a dusky alto, which is a good first sign.

“Hi, Jamie? I’m calling about the apartment. Or, um, from the apartment.” You give her your name as an after thought, feeling silly that you hadn’t led with that.

“Yaldy! I was hopin’ ye’d call. I’ve got a friend I can move in with if it comes down to it, but I really don’t want to. He lives in a worse rat hole than I do. Are ye busy now? I’ll buy ye dinner if you like, just for the short notice and the trouble.”

Anything would be better than ramen for dinner a second night in a row. “Yeah, alright. There’s a decent pub down the street, Keeler’s? It’s close so I can give you an apartment tour if you pass the ‘not a murderer’ vibe check.”

There's a beat of silence. “Does killin’ people in the line of duty count?” she asked. “Because, er, I have. But I’m not like, prone to doin’ that kind of thing in my spare time.”

You think about it a moment. State sanctioned violence does feel different than personal time violence, although you're pretty sure that speaks to some sort of unaddressed bias. Something to think about. “I appreciate the honesty, at least.”

She laughed. “I can meet ye at yer pub in half an hour. That work for ye?”

“Yeah. That works.”

“Great. I’ll text you a picture of me so ye know who tae look for. See you soon.”

You get the text a minute after you hang up. A picture of a gorgeous woman with big smile and bright blue eyes, the sides of her head shaved, the rest of it left long and braided back from her face. She looks normal enough.

You get ready and head out, texting Fern to let her know where you’d gone, just in case Jamie actually was a murderer in her spare time.

Jamie’s already there when you get to the pub, sitting at the bar with a pint, watching the door intently, her leg bouncing. You give her a little wave, and she beams at you. She’s even hotter in real life, wearing tight, ripped up jeans that cling to her muscular thighs, and a tight black tank-top under a cropped leather jacket. She has almost no jewelry, other than the dog tags around her neck and the silver hoops in her ears. She looks, well, normal. Friendly.

You go up and introduce yourself, earning a firm handshake. She’s strong.

“Hi!” she says excitedly. “Nice to meet you. I’m Jamie, but my friends call me Soap. I’d tell ye why, but it’s classified.”

“Is it really?”

“No. But it’s fun to say.” She flags down the bartender. “A pint for my friend here, if you don’t mind. You want to grab a booth? Or stay up at the bar?”

You look around, and there’s a few empty booths, but it’s early yet, and they tend to fill up quickly. “Let’s move. If we stay up here the single dads are going to start hitting on us.”

"We are a couple of dolls, aren't we?" She flashed another big smile at the bartender as he set a second pint out. "We're movin' to a table, if ye don't mind."

"No problem, love," he says, obviously besotted already. "I'll send Jenny around to take your order."

"Thanks, pal. Appreciate it."

You pick up the pint and follow her over to a booth, sliding in on the opposite side.

"So, you said you're military?"

"Ah am. SAS no less. Best of the bloody best. Not many jobs where ye get tae blow things up awl the time." She sheds her jacket, revealing impressively muscled arms. "I could just live on base, if things don't work out here, just so ye ken. No pressure on ye. But I hate stayin' on base when I don't have to. It's the communal showers. Most of the lads are, well, lads. Gotta shower in the middle of the night, and I keep bumpin' into my LT when I do. And he said I could move in with him too. I’m in a rush but I willnae be homeless, so ye don’t need to worry about me if you dinnae think we’ll get along."

You wince in sympathy. "That sounds terrible. I don't think I'd ever be comfortable showering in front of other people."

"Is naw so bad, if it's someone ye like seein' naked. But most of em are munters anyway. Wouldnae mind so much if more of 'em looked like you." She winked over the edge of her pint glass and took a swig.

You laugh at her little joke. She's fun, and you already feel at ease with her. She tells you about her old rat hole apartment, and a little about living on base, although she's a bit vague on the details of her actual job, beyond blowing things up.

She asks you about your work, and you tell her about the used bookshop you work at down the road. You're basically the only employee, and it's usually not too busy, although it can be annoying when you get a rush in the middle of pricing 'new' books. But it pays the rent, more or less. You talk a bit about Fern, and about Red Herring too.

"I love cats," she said excitedly. "Never been able to keep one, bein' away so much. LT had a dog, and he was awlright, but I'm definitely more of a cat girl. Got bit by a few too many pups in my day."

"Well, Red's a real love bug. Once we're done here you can meet him. I think we're going to get along fine."

"Och, really? Just like that, aye? Thought I'd have to work harder."

"Honestly, I thought I was going to have to accept some weirdo or give poor old Red away. You're a much better fit than I expected to find. I think we could be friends."

Her blue eyes track something behind you and narrow slightly. "Well, I'm holdin' ye to that. We're about to be accosted by my lads. Don't let them scare ye." She shoves her plate across the table into the spot next to you and clambers out of the booth. "Oi, what're you munters doin' here? I'm gettin' interviewed for an apartment. Dinnae need you scarin' my girl."

You look behind you, spotting a giant wearing a skull-print balaclava, and a more regular-sized (though no less muscular) black man with a brilliant smile. "We wanted to make sure she wasn't an axe murderer," he says pleasantly.

"Or a chainsaw murderer," the giant adds.

Soap cuts him off before he can take the seat beside you. "Over there," she orders, pointing at the opposite bench, where she'd been sitting. "I'm not lettin' you box her in." She grimaces at you apologetically as she drops into the spot beside you. Her thigh presses against yours for a moment, before you shift further down the bench. "They're sweet, in their own way. Think I need lookin' after. The big guy's Ghost, or LT. This handsome pain in the arse is Gaz. Don't let him sweet talk ye intae callin' him Kyle unless you want him tae put yer ankles up by yer ears. Made that mistake before."

"You don't have to bring that up every time you introduce me to a woman," Gaz says, clearly exasperated.

"I do. How else are they gonna know to call you for a good time?" She smacks his hand away from her plate when he reaches for it. "Oi! Order your own chips ye bastard."

"I only want a couple," Gaz protests.

"Ye always say tha' and ye always lie. Ah umnae fallin' for it again."

"You can have a couple of mine," you offer. "I wasn't going to finish them anyway."

"When do we get to see the place?" Ghost asked.

"Ye don't, unless yer carryin' boxes for me. I willna ask her to let three strangers in her home when she's only just met me."

"Well I guess we're helpin' ye move," Ghost said. "Was gonna leave it all to Price."

"Lazy cunts. Ne’er around when there’s work tae be done.”

“I was gonna help,” Gaz protests. “I already told you that.”

“And I did tell you that you could move into my place if you didn’t find somethin’ in time,” Ghost points out. “We’re not all bad.”

“Well, they’re not bad lads tae have watchin’ yer back in a fire-fight,” Soap admits. “But they dinnae know how to be normal about anythin’.”

“Are you supposed to be the normal one?” Ghost asks.

“Aye. And I willnae have you say otherwise in front of my new friend.”

She finishes eating long before you do, with the speed and gusto of a woman who often has to defend her plate against hungry scavengers. Gaz, true to Soap’s complaint, eats the majority of your chips, although he does thank you and give you a big, wide smile, the sort that could sell someone a bridge. He’s definitely a charmer.

Soap asks for the bill while you’re finishing up. You reach for your purse, but she puts a hand on yours and gives you an intense blue stare. “No, kitty. I told ye I was buyin’ ye dinner, I’ll no’ let ye make me a liar, especially when Gaz ate half your plate.”

God she’s strong. You’re not sure that you could shake her off to insist even if you tried. “Alright. I just—”

“Oh I ken. But I wouldna offer if I didna mean it. I’m a woman of her word.” She pays with cash, and offers you a hand up and out of the booth. She points a warning finger at her friends. “And dinnae follow us, ye creepy bastards.”

They laugh, like they hadn’t followed her to the pub in the first place.

“They really do mean well,” Soap says, linking her arm with yours as you step out onto the street. “But they’ve go’ a bad habit of thinkin’ they dinnae need to respect my space just ‘cause we’ve all spent nights crammed into one room sharin’ cots. I think if the captain had his way we’d all live in his house and sleep in a big fuck-off pile like dogs.”

“Sound a bit claustrophobic.”

“Aye. Ye understand why I’m so eager to make this work with ye, kitty-cat. If I move in with LT it’s just a matter of time before Price comes over tae help us fix somethin’ and says ‘Oh, I dinny know why ye both stay in this shitehole. Whyna stay with me a while, till we find ye somethin’ better?’ And then before we know it we’re all sleepin’ in the same bed and usin’ the same toothbrush.”

You giggle, hoping that's just a joke. “That’s gross.”

“I ken! Horrible men, they are. I need some girl time before I go mad.” She squeezes your arm and knocks her head against yours gently. “We’re goin’ tae be best friends in no time, kitty. I wish I wasna goin’ away so soon.”

“You haven’t even seen the apartment yet!”

“Och, tha’s a formality. I was more wurried about us gettin’ along, kitty. The apartment doesna matter all that much, so long as it’s got a workin’ shower and a place for my bed. If I pass Mr. Herring’s sniff test, I’ll give ye cash on the spot, aye? For next month an’ half of this one, since you’d be lettin' me move in before the first.”

And, well, it’s hard to think of a good reason to say no.

[atsadi-shenanigans]

Feeding Alligators 66 - Ra-Ra-Rasputin

Halsin did mention cultists. You just thought he meant the Absolute.

TW (but subverted): non consensual drugging, sex pollen.

On AO3.

And on the fourth day, you meet the ghost of Rasputin. He’s speaking Faerunese. Tall guy, lanky, with long, black hair and a pointy fucking wizard beard that ends down near his belly button.

He’s also flanked by a good dozen of what look like heavily-armed bandits.

“Oh good,” Astarion all but growls. Are his teeth longer than usual?

There’s only four of you right now—the path had split up, and each of you had gone as a scouting party with instructions to meet back at the fork at noon.

“Dearest travelers,” Rasputin says. You can’t tell what age he is, only that he’s tall, bony-assed, and probably human. “We mean you no harm. Our lord has seen your coming and seeks an audience with one among you.”

“Are these more Absolute fuckers?” Karlach says.

“I hope so,” Astarion says. He hasn’t eaten that you know of since that goblin camp, and that was like, five days ago.

“We seek the maiden amongst you,” Rasputin says. “Our lord has seen them, and he seeks to make an offer.”

Maiden?

Y’all look at each other. Or you, Gale, and Karlach look at each other. Astarion seems to be eyeballing the guy on the left like he’s a butterball turkey.

“I ain’t sure we’re following, mate,” Karlach says.

Rasputin’s voice is a high, creaky thing. His eyes are that kinda colorless blue that always look watery. Man looks like a dweeb. Exactly like the type of person to approach four (three, rather) heavily armed people—one of them on fire and one of them clearly the wrong shade for a living person—and decides to ask which one’s the virgin with his whole mouth.

Your brain screeches to a halt.

Oh, you know that bullshit title technically applies to you. But as you look around—Gale a bit puzzled, Karlach…is she wistful? And Astarion…

Astarion looks at you with very, very narrow eyes.

You can’t be the only one, right? Right?

“No,” Astarion says, tone pitching low as he drawls that word.

The others turn to follow his stare as heat sweeps over your face.

“A virgin?” Astarion says. “No. You’re not.”

But in your moment of panic, you can only stare at him and feel your armpits grow damp. His face blooms in shock. And in your desperation, you reach for, “That whole concept is just a bullshit social construct!”

“You are,” he says. “How? Whe—”

And then he shuts up so abruptly Gale does a double-take and you know beyond a shadow of a doubt the elf is thinking about that conversation in the woods, by the tree. The one where you said you just “hadn’t in a while.”

“You cheeky little liar,” he says, eyes narrowed to scarlet slits.

“Holy shit,” Karlach says. She, at least, is smiling. It’s more amused than anything reassuring, but it’s better than the stupid boggling from the other two. “Seriously, Soldier?”

“It’s not weird,” you say. “None of you need to make this weird, and I swear to god, if y’all do I will burn down camp while y’all are sleeping.”

“Please don’t,” Gale says. “I have quite the collection of mystical tomes I’ve gathered, and I’d hate for them to be lost before I could get them back to the archives in Waterdeep.”

“Please, there’s no need for violence,” Rasputin butts in. “No harm shall come to you if you’ll follow me.”

He says “if.” Implying violence if you don’t. There’s four of you, and you’re pretty sure the others could take out this band? But four against a baker’s dozen seems like a bad idea, when you don’t know shit about those baker’s dozen and you’re willing to bet Rasputin knows some kinda fucking magic.

“Gale,” you say too low for the bandits to hopefully hear. “Where are the others?”

You can feel as he taps into the brainworm connection and reaches out to Wyll. You’re not directly part of this particular group chat, but you can still pick up some of it, like tapping into a phone line. They ain’t far, and they’re turning back on the double. Probably take twenty, thirty minutes if they run.

“It might not be prudent to start anything now,” Gale says. “Considering we’re on our way to a gith creche and gods know what’s going to happen there.”

“I’m curious to see what they want,” Astarion says, because of fucking course he does.

Even your ears burn when you turn to glare at him. But the bastard only tilts his head and gives you a little grin, completely innocent, but his eyes way too delighted.

“I do remember the druid saying something about cultists running around out here,” he continues. “Cultists do generally prefer virgin sacrifices.”

“How would they even know that Eleanor hasn’t, ah, engaged in those particular activities?” Gale says. Catches your glare next. “My apologies. But something like that has to be mystical in nature, and I would rather get some sense of what we’re dealing with before the others arrive.”

Well…fuck. Fuck all of them.

Astarion snorts to himself. Mutters, “A virgin.”

You’re pushing him off the next hill y’all come to.

Rasputin watches all this with the calm air of a man pulling a dozen bodyguards. You grind your teeth, throw up your hands, and stomp after him.

***

He don’t lead far. The mountain trail has leveled off in a kind of high altitude forest. Y’all stroll through the thin trees until you get to a mountain meadow, them quartzpetal flowers popping up everywhere. Karlach makes a squeaking sound when she gasps. But all your attention fixes on the ring of tents on the far side. The fire pit with, with fucking chairs set up around…that is a fucking table. That is a fucking alter, is what that is. And all of it centered around a big, gold statue. Human-sized and glittering in the sunlight. Completely naked. And with what you think is an anatomically-correct, raging erection.

“Oh,” Gale says when y’all get y’all’s first, good eye full.

You look at the statue. Loot at Rasputin. Look to the chairs and the way the alter has fucking pillows on it, and you say, “I ain’t fucking your goddamn statue.”

Astarion either inhales his own spit, or his own tongue, judging from the sudden, explosive hacking behind you.

But Rasputin chuckles high and dry, and then the statue fucking moves.

“I am no statue, maiden,” the fuck statue says.

You almost climb right up into Karlach’s arms.

The fuck statue lifts its arms and puts its hands on its hips and that big, golden cock fucking jounces.

You look away. You know they’ll make fun of you for it, and you don’t care. You do not need the mental image of a giant, golden cock bobbling around.

This is a dream. You ate something weird and spiked a brain-melting fever and this is the last, dying gasp as your brain fries its own synapses.

“I am pleased to introduce you to our Lord Bibivanoosh,” Rasputin says. “The God of First Pleasure.”

Gale bites back something.

“’Bibivanoosh’?” Karlach says. “Is that even a god?”

“None that I’ve heard of,” Gale mutters.

“I ain’t fucking your golden man neither!” you say.

So naturally, the fuck statue takes that as a fucking cue to walk over to y’all. His cock bobs the whole way. Astarion fucking wheezes the entire time.

Karlach jerks her chin. “What’sa matter, Soldier? I though this sort of thing didn’t bother you?”

“I will burn the camp to ash,” you say. “I’ll drug all y’all and I’ll set each tent on fucking fire.”

As the fuck statue nears it begins to change. The face is indistinct, features slide together. Even the body seems to move like liquid: thickening, then slimming. Short, then tall, and then about your height.

“Come with me, maiden,” the fuck statue says. “Give me but an hour of your time—”

“Ooh, he’s generous,” Astarion chokes out and his tent is going up first.

“—and I shall give you your first pleasure.”

Holy fuck, he’s a god of virgin killers.

“Fucking gross,” you say.

“Lie with our lord,” Rasputin completely bulldozes you. “He is the finest lover in all the realms—”

Astarion scoffs. That fucking guy.

“Once you have given him your sacrifice, you and your friends may depart with his gifts.”

You give your brainworm a mic tap: how much further fucking out are you lot?

The answer: maybe ten minutes, you guess.

Rasputin smiles. You think it’s meant to be comforting. It is the opposite. “Our Lord Bibivanoosh will make it more than worth any trepidation the maiden may feel. He will become whatever she desires, whoever she desires. He shall put her at ease, become whatever would bring her first pleasure.”

This is so fucking gross. Why the fuck does this even exist. What kind of asshole fucking world even has a god for something like this, much less one run by a knockoff Disney villain lurking up in the mountains and going “virgin” hunting like Elmer fucking Fudd. God, you really kinda hate this world.

Oh look, now the fuck statue has a nice pair of tits.

“That is…fascinating,” Gale says, glancing between you and the statue. “But still rather alarming. Do you do this with all travelers passing through?”

Oh thank fuck you’re not the only one creeped out. Because yeah, there’s some really disgusting implications here. You don’t got no doubts that some people see a giant, golden fuck statue and drop their pants then and there. Pour one out to them fellas. But what if they’re like you? They ain’t really down for casual? Or they just don’t want to. These fuckers didn’t invite you with a tray of teacakes and a nice, little invitation. They came armed.

“A god of deflowering virgins,” Astarion says, and even he seems to have lost most of his bastard tone. “Why in the hells would anyone have a need for such a worthless deity?”

“I know my way around many, many pantheons,” Gale says. “But I’ve never heard of this. He might be in the early stages of devotional formation.”

You need to stall. You look to Rasputin. To the fuck statue.

“Wha’d’ya mean ‘first pleasure’?” you say.

Rasputin opens right the fuck up. A car salesman spotting a college girl shopping for her first car by herself. “Our Lord seeks out maidens to bring them to ecstasy—”

“Define maiden.”

He stops. The others do, too. Even the fuck statue finally, like, actually looks at you.

“I’m sorry?” Rasputin says.

“Define. Maiden,” you say.

The others are five minutes out.

“I…” Rasputin says. Takes a breath and squares his knobby shoulders. “One who has not slept with another.”

“Slept?”

“…had sex.”

Bingo. You smooth your face into the sweetest mask you can. “Define sex. I ain’t from around here; the translations, you know? They get a bit screwy sometimes.”

“Darling,” Astarion says, “sex is when two or more people—”

You reach back without looking and fumble to press a finger to his lips (you jab his front teeth instead). But he takes the hint and shuts it. Meanwhile, you do not break your staredown with Rasputin.

The man…is he blushing? Seriously? Fucker’s setting up lawn chairs for a fucking dinner time theater hour and now he’s got the fucking gall to blush? What a fucking piece of shit.

“Have you had sex with another or not?” he says like he’s got any kind of argumentative ground here. “Our Lord Bibivanoosh—stop laughing!”

Karlach waves one hand while covering her mouth with another. She hiccups a couple of times while Gale bits his lips to try to hide his own smile.

“I’m just trying to get specifics,” you say. “This kinda thing is a big decision. Shouldn’t be taken so lightly, right? I’m trying to figure out what it is, exactly, y’all want from me? Like, do we have to go full penetration, or is hand stuff okay?”

“Either one,” Rasputin huffs.

“No, wait, but does he need to be inside me? Do I need to be inside him? Her? What if we just lick each other?”

Karlach folds at the waist.

“I…” Rasputin says. Looks to the fuck statue. “So long as you climax.”

“So it’s about the orgasm,” you say and nod like that makes some kinda sense.

Rasputin’s shoulders finally come down an inch—fucker was starting to go full skesis. “Yes, yes. Now, if you’ll just—”

“Hate to be the bearer of bad news, my guy, but I already done had pleasures in that category,” you say. And wiggle your fingers.

Gale gives a little, wheezing cough. Even Astarion fucking guffaws.

“It doesn’t count if you’re by yourself!” Rasputin says.

“Why?”

“Because that’s not sex!”

“But you said it was about the orgasm.”

“Only if there’s someone else. Really, now, you’ll have a wonderful experience—”

“But what if neither of us comes?”

“Then it’s not sex.”

“Even if we’re going full on penetration? Penis in vagina, the whole deal?”

“Then…that…”

“What if he comes but it’s on me and I don’t come at all? What if it turns out I have a disorder and I can’t even orgasm—”

“Fuck our god already!” Rasputin says, reaches down into his pocket, and pulls out a handful of dust. He throws it at you.

Arms wrap tight around you and haul you back as the whole group scrambles away. You cough, and smell…cinnamon? Did that fucker just through his fucking spice rack at you? What a fucking weirdo.

“Alraune spores,” Gale all but spits. He sounds fucking pissed. “She doesn’t volunteer herself so you think to use Alraune spores?”

The arms around you loosen as fast as they grabbed you. You try to turn to see who, but dizziness makes your eyes cross and all you catch are swatches of silver, purple, and scarlet.

“Whoa,” you say. A flush spreads down your chest. Your skin goes all tingly. You’re suddenly very aware of the jar between your tits, and the material of your under tunic on your chest. The warmth spreads through you, spreads down, pools between your legs.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Karlach says, and then there’s gold in your vision, filling your vision.

The fuck statue.

Up close, he smells like chocolate and…and Astarion’s perfume? Well that’s fucking weird.

The stupid, golden hand is warm when it comes up to lift your chin.

The others are near. Very, very near.

“Come with me, maiden,” s/he says, voice all…all honeyed. “Come with me and I shall show you ecstasy such as only the gods can experience.”

You snort a laugh. Try to catch your balance but it’s getting really hot out here, and you’re wearing too many clothes.

“You said come,” you snicker.

“Get the fuck away from her,” somebody says.

Fucker leans in closer. He’s all up in your space. Way, way too close. “Why resist? My touch has already brought you to need, maiden. All you simply need do is—”

His face is right there.

You shove it away.

“The fuck was that powder?” Karlach says.

“Spores from a predatory plant,” Gale says. “It’s a powerful aphrodisiac.”

Ah. Well. That would be why you feel so hot and your britches are getting pretty, uh, damp. That’s annoying.

It sure has been a while since you fooled around with yourself, huh? All the bullshit going on, everybody in such close damned quarters, and you not even feeling up to it for half a this shit show. It’s been a hot fucking minute since you had any kinda of alone time.

You look up and your vision kinda floats back together. Fuck statue frowns at you. His face is melting all together. He got tits. Then he don’t. Then he’s got man tits (and really, by that metric, Halsin absolutely fucking has tits, you just didn’t notice them until you saw the man in full daylight with that fucking vest straining at the seams).

Shadowheart’s got nice tits, too.

Nope. Y’all are gonna get outta here and go set up camp and you are making some alone time damnit.

“What are you doing?” the fuck statue says.

His hands are melting, too. Fingers long, then short. Thick, then thin. Masculine. Feminine. Long nails and no nails.

He steps back. “What is happening?”

Someone touches your shoulder. Warm skin. Smells of woodsmoke and ink.

“We thank you for your hospitality, such as it was,” Gale says and he still sounds pissed. “But I think we must be on our way.”

Movement to the sides and from behind. A flash of dark horns as Wyll steps into the meadow, Lae’zel and Halsin and Shadowheart all flanking him. Damn, Wyll’s got man tits, too.

Gale draws you back, leaving Karlach and Astarion between you and the melting fuck statue. You ain’t never noticed how wide Astarion’s shoulders are, have you? Why the fuck does he wear such tight pants? You can almost see everything. And he wears the waist all high, and tucks in his shirt at camp like he’s trying to show it off—

Oh no. Nope. Nuh uh.

“Priest!” the fuck statue bellows. “Priest, what happens!”

His face has lost its form. He ain’t shifting to other features, he’s just a smooth surface with eye indentations and a lump for a nose. Looks like a ken doll stuck into a campfire.

He did say he could be what you liked. But you don’t like no particular type of person. Not like that, not for a while, and none right now (Astarion’s stupid ass pants aside).

“You think I can turn him into a pepperoni pizza?” you say.

“What’s happening to it?” Wyll says, just a bit breathless.

“What even is it?” Shadowheart says. Damn, she’s pretty.

“A nascent deity too dangerous to leave be,” Gale says.

“Are you suggesting we kill a god?” Karlach says. And boy howdy, does she sound stoked.

“That’s usually far too difficult a task,” Gale says. “They’re bound to an idea and mortal worship. As long as either of those exist, he may yet reform.”

You fan yourself and frown at the gaggle of cultist bandits gather along the edges of y’all’s talking circle. Good god almighty, you’d kill somebody for a burrito and a good fucking churro.

“You said mortal worship,” you say.

Gale nods. There’s a tightness around his eyes, a hard set to his jaw as he looks back to the gaggle. Astarion frees both his knives. Shadowheart gives her mace a few, idle swings.

“If there are no mortal worshipers, and the god is forgotten, there’s nothing more to sustain it,” Gale says.

Karlach’s lips peel back from her sharp, sharp teeth. That maniacal grin really does something for you, huh?

“Right,” you say.

Notes:

Trying to use sex pollen on somebody on the ace spectrum? What she really wants is some good fucking food. In my defense, most anime have at least one crack episode, and this game is from DnD.

Previous - Index - Next Chapter

[snootlestheangel]

NikGraves? They’re slowly becoming one of my favorite ships

This is gonna be a lot like the last one just without Price so it'll be interesting to see how that changes the dynamics

Feel free to submit ships or other questions about the ship like "Who takes the hottest shower?"

Who was the one to propose? Graves. He knows when he likes something and isn't going to shy away from keeping it

Who stressed more over wedding planning? Still Nik. I can see Graves being stressed at first but then he mentions it to a few of the Shadows closest to him and boom! He's got like a professional wedding planning team.

Who decorated the house? Graves. Nik wanted to but Graves has so much gifted to him from his Shadows they had no choice. Of course, the only stuff that goes up is stuff Graves likes. He's got class, after all.

Who is more organized? Once again going off the idea that Graves is really good at keeping up appearances of being organized, but it's Nik that's keeping track of stuff. They make an incredibly well-functioning duo which scares people. Truly a power couple

Who suggested kids first? Still Nik as a genuine topic. Graves gives in pretty easily, especially when they find the cutest little girl and take her in. Now, all I'm picturing is Graves waltzing into Shadow Base with their little girl just proudly showing her off. Idk why this is a thought I had with this, but Graves calls Nik his "big bear" cause like, duh? And it kinda sticks until they adopt their daughter and then suddenly he's "Papa Bear" and she's little "Pooh Bear". So of course Graves got her a little bear onesie complete with ears on the hood. And she's running around on the base, and the Shadows are all 'screaming' "There's a bear loose!" and it takes a bold Moose to rein the terrible monster in *I am not sorry, Mike :D* Another super cute idea relating to NikGraves and their toddler: Graves, holding her up like Simba in that one scene: BEHOLD, A CHILD! *cheers and screaming from the Shadows. There are some of them crying* *Graves could not be happier*

Who's the cuddler? Nik is still the cuddlier one. Graves gets dogpiled a lot during the day, but poor Nik has no one to cuddle "except for you, lyubov ;)"

Big spoon/little spoon? They interchange a lot, but Graves does his best to be a big spoon, even if he secretly melts when Nik just wraps around him from behind.

Favorite non-sexual activity? Horse back riding. I dunno I just see them doing that for some reason. They continue going to the same place after adopting 'Pooh Bear' because there's a special program for young families (ie families with small children) and she's just giggling madly while riding the cutest pony. (This idea has possessed me. This is your fault, @mike-like-t-scream all yours! We're just trading brainworms at this point, aren't we? First it was you with Moose, then me with the fucking YouTuber AU, and then you with Graves, and now me with NikGraves and their toddler daughter)

Who cooks? Graves. He knows how to feed his man. Mostly cause his Southern ass would drop dead if the love of his life hadn't eaten properly all day

Who comes home drunk at 3am? Nik on the rare occasion, but if there was a party with the Shadows, it's Graves or one time it was both.

Who kills the spiders? Nik, but he's under watch. I genuinely feel like Graves is the type of mf-er to have been like "Oh, yeah, guys I got this" during his recruit days, only for him to have been bitten and break out into a horrendous allergic reaction. Nik and Graves both don't to risk him having another allergic reaction like that

Who falls asleep first? Even though Nik is a pretty chilled out, sleepy looking kind of guy, he's genuinely so bad about sleeping. Look at that man and tells me he gets the recommended amount of sleep at night, I fucking dare you. SO therefore, Graves always passes out the second he hits the mattress. He's either 100 or 0, no in between.

A head-canon? Graves actually has a few siblings, and he's still relatively close to his family. Close as in he enjoys visiting on the holidays and for special occasions but other than that, they don't really talk much. Not for bad reasons, just more like he and his siblings all grew up and have lives of their own now. His family members were not fans of Nik, at first. Especially Graves's parents. Hell, this guy's probably a good ten years older than Graves if I had to guess, and which means Graves's parents are about the same age distance apart, assuming they were in their twenty's when they had Phil. It took a while for them to all warm up to Nik, which he probably expected, but they were never outright mean to either Nik or Phil. His mom definitely voiced her concerns, and his dad definitely threatened Nik (to which Nik treated it with such seriousness and he like shook Graves Sr.'s hand with a grim "With my life, I will protect him" to which Graves Sr. is like "oh yeah, this dude's chill!"). ALSO Graves is definitely a middle child. He gives off such strong feral middle child vibes to me, I just... He's the middle child, I promise.

Do they have any rituals? Graves's rituals for safety, fun, and winning during the Shadow Olympics and Nik's stretches for safe flying.

Who has the most patience? Nik, obviously. This actually concerns his parents-in-law cause let's be honest, the Graves family is probably a bit messy and they all have pretty short tempers with each other. Meanwhile Nik's just chilling, he's vibing with the old family dog while his husband and brother-in-law are wrestling over the last burger, as if they both aren't in their forties.

Gif that sums up the relationship:

*is still sick* Hehe cats

[fullmetal-scar-simping]

mei chang was so based for showing up in amestris and looking at this big scary serial killer and going "yes this is the most trustworthy person in the whole of amestris" and never looking back. And she was CORRECT. Tangent but do you think if 03 scar showed up in mangahood verse he will go red with rage and remove all of bh scar's brainwashing with one single line ahem my sympathy will not be spent on soldiers ahem. And they will hold hands and their shared energy will instantaneously blow up amestris? and now mei has TWO father's💕 and she's unstoppable. Also 03 scar looks at bh al like MY al was better than this. Daughter you deserve better. Dad disapproval.

Here I am, innocently reading this ask, nodding along to everything, getting ready to cosign each glowing word, and then you just had to hit me with that tangent. I-! Omfg, I just-!!

Anon-!

Anon please

Listen to me anon

You cannot send me an ask with

And they will hold hands

‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

and their shared energy will instantaneously blow up Amestris

‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

and now mei has TWO fathers

‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

And not send me into a brainworm-infested spiral!

What are you doing to me, anon?! Why are you not only completely correct and based and a genius, but also feeding the swamp of pure absurdist crackship self-indulgence that is Scar x Scar, which (I thought) only I ship???

And you're goddamned right 03 Scar would look mangahood Al up and down and sneer at that off-brand Mormon-lookin' ass excuse for an Alphonse Elric! He won't stop Mei from pursuing him (her agency is paramount) but he sure as hell won't approve. He knows who the real top shelf Al is and it ain't this poser. She can do better!