#and I think the bulk of the community here does too

[markscherz]

tumblrs being transphobic, with the ceo himself starting an actual harassment campaign against a transfem & also banning transfems who post abt it.

Oh shit, I had not heard about that.

I would like to say I don’t understand why this shit keeps happening, but I actually do understand it way too well. It just makes me so sad and angry. Especially on a site where people find and make their communities.

So much of this is about ego, and the people with power wielding that power to protect themselves and failing to protect others with it. A mere hint of negative sentiment towards them is harassment that is dealt with immediately and harshly, but a dozen complaints about discrimination or threats or bullying take ages to process and frequently come to unsatisfactory moderation decisions.

Whatever the sentiments of the people running this hellsite, you are always welcome in my corner of the internet, wherever you find it. You are all wonderful, and we all deserve to feel that part of this space belongs to us and those to whom we can connect.

Transphobia has no place on tumblr, period. Or anywhere else in society for that matter. It is that which should be being rooted out.

[mothxmoons]

Wolf pack!

You’re a wolfwalker. Are you a fable? No. Just what more ancient werewolf stories were based off of, only when you’re asleep does your form take that of a wolf until you return to your sleeping body.

An average day of work, you’d say, rather boring actually, not many people coming in today. The only thing keeping you from not falling asleep was the magazine from the desk, nothing much in there either, though you did enjoy people watching. There was something up with this part of town, not in a creepy small town kind of way, no, no. The people here, besides every average Joe you come across, are different. The way they talk is off when they say certain things or how they act with one another. You’ve seen a few fights, a few tumbles, holes and more and seen them walk away fine.

This is also the only part of New York that has a sheriff that isn’t a policeman. Which is strange but you only ever see him when he comes in to buy his cigarettes, which is rare since he buys them in bulk, also weird but his health isn’t your concern.

Another strange thing was how some people talk to him, most will just brush him off or greet him before continuing on their way, but some will be actively rude to him. Not something you would think of doing when he’s their sheriff, but you’ve never said anything.

There was something strange about this part of town…but then again, you were probably just as strange. A wolfwalker in New York, a wolf in the city, typically that would be cause for concern but thanks to wildlife preservation near where you live just outside the city, so you were fine, you had the city and all the comforts of a human and the outdoors with all the comforts for a wolf. Though…unlike a certain someone who would sometimes be around when the sheriff was in the store, you didn’t think these guys were vampires. You weren’t that crazy. Immortals maybe, but in a different way.

Well…it actually really obvious when you think about it, they didn’t even try to hide things. Come on, Snow White. The sheriff’s name being Bigby Wolf, it’s pretty obvious. Not to mention the whole frog you see walking around sometimes. But who were you to judge? You had a secret too, and you didn’t really think about hiding it, not that anyone could catch you and link it to you. Hell, you were wearing a crest from your family that was closely linked to Wolfwalkers but only people who had that kind of obscure knowledge would know.

Then again, maybe you should be careful around these guys, since they are just a bunch of fairy tale characters all together in a single community so they just might have access to that obscure knowledge. Speak of the devil, there’s Sheriff Bigby.

“Hey sheriff, the usual?” You asked, looking up from the magazine you still held, though you were more zoned out than you were actually reading it.

“Hm, yeah. And this coffee pack, of course.” The tired, scruffy man replied with a small shrug, his eyes caught on the magazine to your hands before finally looking up to your eyes. “That’s an odd ring.”

“Oh, yeah, family heirloom.” You shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant about it as you took his items to ring up for him.

“And I’m guessing it's not a very interesting magazine. You were staring at one page when I walked in.” He commented, gesturing with his head, his hands in his pockets. He was really observant, maybe too observant for your own good.

“No. Slow day, got zoned out.” You said, placing his items, coffee and his favorite brand of cigarettes, into a bag for him. From the way you were around everyone so often and didn’t seem to kick up any fuss about seeing strange things, Bigby was sure you knew, and you didn’t know how you knew he knew. But you were sure.

“Hopefully you’ll have a similar day, Bigby.”

“One can only hope.” He sighed as he took the bag with a deep sigh, placing the money on the counter before walking out the door. He seemed more tired than usual, maybe something happened and he had to clean it up. As per usual.

It wasn’t until you fell asleep in your home did you see him again. You didn’t know why, you never usually venture into the city as a wolf, but something just told you to.

With one last look to your sleeping figure, you slipped out of your home, running down the path, panting as you made it to the sidewalks. Maybe it was the confirmation you wanted, to know what these guys were. Whatever the case, you were a wolf running around the city, knocking some people over and startling a few others but no one seemed bothered. Probably too used to seeing strange things happening to really care. Your nose led you to an alleyway, where a certain sheriff was, like you back at home, laying down. He was on the ground though and seemed a little rougher up and groaning slightly.

You tilted your gaze upwards to see where he fell from, a broken glass on the third story seemed to be your answer. You approached him slowly, sniffing at his face, being the usual bother as he started to come to, pushing your face away as he pulled himself up into a sitting position. He blinked, once, twice and then looked quickly over to you, eyes wide as he stared at you. Your ear flickered with a blink from you, taking a moment to see if he was okay. Your head tilted to the side as you looked him over, he seemed okay, though probably shocked from seeing a wolf in the city, leaning forward to sniff at him again.

“Hey there, pup. What are you doing this far into the city?” Bigby asked, groaning as he stood up, dusting himself off. He leaned forward, to look down at you, your gaze following him closely, his hand slowly coming to your head and rubbing your ears. His hand was so slow, almost scared that you would shy away from him, or get scared and run off, but seeing you stay and lean into his hand he had a different idea. “Say, why don’t you be my little helper for the night?”

Your response of course was a bark and your tail wagging which was shaking your whole body.

“Alright, alright, I get it, pup.” He chuckled, leading you out of the alleyway. “I just need to bring a perp in and then do…a lot of paperwork. If you’re alright with being in my company.”

If you could nod you would, but you could only wag your tail, walking close to him.

Bigby couldn’t explain it, but this random wolf in the city could not be a coincidence, sure, strange things happen all the time here, but this was different. He knows that smell, he’s so sure he’s smelled this wolf before, he just couldn’t place it. As he stalked down the sidewalk, looking for the guy he was searching for, his eyes always started back down to the wolf that stuck by his side without a second thought.

Maybe it was because he himself is a wolf that made this wolf feel so comfortable around him. Or maybe something else was going on, this familiar scent that came from the wolf…he knew it. But where?

His eyes drifted up again to see the guy he was chasing down, the other tweedle twin, whichever one it was. Bigby immediately sprang into a run, alerting the twin to start running to, and he could hear his new wolf friend following closely, probably even faster.

“Atta pup!” He called as the wolf overtook his speed and was right on the heels of the tweedle twin, causing a yelp of shock from the very round man.

“I didn’t know a dog needed a dog!” He yelled as he ran, trying to keep his attention split from running away and keeping his ankles away from the wolf.

The man skidded into an alleyway hoping for an easy escape only for the wolf to not stop its speed and leapt off the wall and onto him, tongue hanging out, having its best life, knocking the tweedle twin to the ground.

“Aw…thanks…pup… whhooo.” Bigby breathed heavily, catching his breath as he jogged over to the wolf. The wolf’s tail was wagging with their tongue hanging out of its mouth as they looked up at him, happy and proud.

“Didn’t know you had your own lap dog. Thought you were the lap dog.” The tweedle twin laughed at him, trying to get up from under the wolf accompanying the sheriff for the night.

“Actually, this here is a wolf. And probably not done growing, I think you got lucky.” Bigby said, grabbing the twin by his arms and heaving him up to start the twin’s walk of shame to the office. The wolf happily trotted after him.

Though Bigby never liked having attention on him, when he put the tweedle twin with his brother in a cell, he did find a sense of humor in the faces of the people waiting outside of Snow’s office. Seeing a wolf…following a wolf. Bigby opened up his office door for the wolf, watching it walk in before sitting down himself, sighing heavily as he pulled out his paperwork.

He doesn’t know how long he had been working on his paperwork, but it seemed to go by quicker with the wolf next to him, snoozing away. Sometimes the wolf would look up to him and set their face on his lap when he groaned or sighed at some of the requests and complaints. Which earned a little rub at the ear, but all things must come to an end.

Bigby was planning on letting the wolf stay with him but he didn’t want to pry the wolf away from the forest like he had been so many years ago. So when the time came to go home, he walked the wolf all the way down to the path to the forest. The wolf wagging its tail still, rubbing around in a circle happily, nuzzling his hand once more before bolting off. Bigby waved at the wolf off with a soft, gentle smile, before heading home, scratching at his neck.

The next day, very early in the morning, Bigby felt like eating something fast to get the rest of his work done before having to go out and patrol for any dangers or complaints. So he went down to the small shop he’d buy his coffee and cigarettes from when he smelled that familiar smell from that wolf last night. He followed the scent closely, maybe it was because he hadn’t smoked his cigarette yet so his senses were sharper now, and now he could see why that wolf smelled so familiar.

His nose led him right to the store, with the shopkeeper outside, opening the door. You. You turned, smiling warmly, knowingly and waved at him, just like how he did to the wolf, before walking into the store. A wide smile still on your face as you looked at him through the window, and in turn, a smile crept up on his face as well.

“Well, I guess I have a reason to start talking to them now.” He said to himself, following after you with a soft smile, finally…he wasn’t the only wolf.

[meret118]

"When I open my Bible, I don’t see any verses about abortion, but I see more than 2000 verses about economic justice. I don’t see any verses about gay marriage, but I see hundreds of verses about welcoming the stranger and feeding the hungry and healing the sick and freeing the oppressed.”

The biblical truth of that message notwithstanding, groups like Evangelicals for Harris know that it’s not one that the bulk of conservative Christians will be able to hear. But in the context of this election, they are not trying to save the conservative church from itself; they are trying to elect Kamala Harris. “When people hear about what we do, they think that we are in the persuasion business, that we’re going around trying to argue Trumpers into a different political opinion,” says Ryerse. “That’s a misunderstanding of what we’re trying to do.”

Instead, the group recognizes that there have been “inflection points” — kids in cages, maybe, or Jan. 6, or Trump’s felony conviction, or former Vice President Mike Pence’s disavowal — that have caused Christians who have always voted Republican to “begin to undergo some kind of political identity crisis,” as Ryerse puts it. “What we’re trying to do is not persuade the 85 to 95 percent that are not flippable. What we’re trying to do is make it easy for the 5 to 15 percent that are already in the midst of that political identity crisis, to say, ‘Hey, you’re not alone. There’s an on-ramp for a different way of engaging.’”

. . .

For the conversations that aren’t lost causes, however, Pagitt treads far more lightly. He has come to understand the delicate psychology of a Trump voter who has lost or is in the process of losing the (political) faith. He knows that it can be a lonely and alienating experience, that people would often rather be wrong and in community than right and by themselves. He’s talked to people who’ve driven out of state to attend Vote Common Good’s rallies in secret because they own the local hardware store and don’t want to be driven out of business, or because they pastor a church and don’t want to alienate their parishioners in states so red that their votes won’t matter anyway. He understands the entrenchment that can happen when someone who thinks they’re doing the right thing is told by the larger culture that it’s horribly wrong, and he’s careful not to “beat up on Trump too much” for that very reason. “We know the social costs that people are paying and how they internally feel,” Pagitt says. “In their experience, they’re going from, ‘I was the hero when I did this behavior. Now I’m going to do the opposite behavior. How am I still the hero?’ You have to help people get there.”

Mainly, Vote Common Good does that by telling them that they are still heroes, that their heroism remains intact. “Part of our theory of change is that behavioral change happens before identity change,” explains Ryerse. “We’re not out here trying to make more Democrats. We’re trying to get people to behave differently, i.e., to vote differently. The permission structure is, ‘Listen, I’m not asking you to be a Democrat. I’m asking you not to vote for Donald Trump in this election.’ What it does is [say], you can preserve your identity and change your behavior.”

Once behavior changes, of course, there’s the possibility of changing identity as well.

----

Terrific article! I hate what conservatives have done to my faith. We're not all like that!

I'm so glad I happened to see this. It really lifted my spirits.

Use this site if you want to read it.

[iamthecomet]

Please please tell us about your thoughts about everyday-life ghouls! I‘d love to hear about it /g

I think, when he's slept alone, Dew wakes up before everyone else. He gets up. Stumbles to their little kitchen. In my mind the kitchen and the "common room" are attached to each other, either through an open door way, or just one bit room that's split between several uses. Either way, Dew stumbles in. Shirtless. Sweatpants slung low on his hips. Hair down, in his face. He's barely awake. He makes a pot of coffee. He puts the kettle on for tea. He starts taking stuff out to make breakfast. Dew will get through his first cup of coffee--and half of breakfast prep before Mountain shows up. Dew's already made his tea, it's steeping on the counter when Mountain walks in, a pillow crease across his cheek. Looking bleary-eyed but here, awake. He and Dew will exist together in silence for a while. Dew drinks another cup of coffee. They work together toward breakfast. It's different every day, but Mountain can discern pretty easily from what's laid out where Dew was going with it. They work well together in silence. Dew brews another pot of coffee as Mountain puts a tray of bacon in the oven. He pours the leftovers from the first pot (brewed stronger than the second) into their communal jar of iced coffee in the fridge. The others start to emerge just as breakfast is ready. The bacon comes out and Cirrus and Aeon show up almost at the same time. Sunshine comes next, then Swiss and Aurora. Rain and Aether are always last. Sleeping in until the last possible second. Sometimes they both have their tea (Rain) and coffee (Aether) brought to them in bed. But usually they show up toward the end of breakfast. Just as Cirrus and Cumulus are getting ready for their morning walk around the lake (sometimes others join them, sometimes they don't). Mountain eats with the bulk of the ghouls and departs with them too, heading to the greenhouse to get an early start. Dew eats when Rain and Aether eat. Once everything is done and cooked and everyone else is fed. It's quiet in the kitchen by then, everyone else already getting a start on their day. Rain and Aether help Dew clean up. And then one, or both, of them will try to persuade Dew to go back to bed for a nap. Sometimes he does. Sometimes he refuses--goes and does something productive. But more often then not they compromise and end up on the couch a few feet away. Snuggled up together, napping, under the guise of watching TV.

[heartfullofleeches]

Home

Yan Demon Harem + G.N Priest Reader Blurb

Priest Reader returns home for some relaxation after a stressful day at the church.. or strip teases in front of the insatiable demons within their residency. Spicy stuff here mdni.

Home at last.

Just in time too. Your face muscles were a smile away from permanent freezing in a mocking grimace of your silent torment, and the rest of your body wasn't fairing much better either. It's your own fault for leaning an ear to a community that does nothing but bottle up gossip all week long. If you had to hear about another alleged affair or congratulate another person's grandchild's achievements your head was going to explode.

What you need now was to get out of your stiff clothes and unwind in the one house more sanctum than the home of your lord. Palm on the handle, you rest your body weight on the door as you grab your keys. Shifting on your feet, the door creaks open before the proper key is halfway through the lock. Strange. Must've forgotten to lock the door. Suppose that even at the start of your day you were already exhausted. You take a deep breath and your first step.

"I'm home!"

Cool wind comprised of fragrant air surrounds you as you enter into the living room. Mountain breeze, the most neutral and non-offending scents of the candles you received. It worked well to cover up the stench of sulfur and ease you away from the dull ache splitting up the back of your skull. The observant eye would come to notice that not a shadow clung to the walls of your humble home. The couch, the table lamp, your own figure - all missing from their assigned place. It's only when you remove your rosary that these silhouettes return; the outlines of the inanimate objects contorting and bending to impossible shapes around the human shadow amongst their horde. Your teeth chitter as intangible whispers flood your mind and overflow into the very core of your soul. Popping your collar, it stops - a slick wetness pooling along the slip of your skin. You reach over your shoulder, swatting at the air.

"I'm not ready for this heat. It's colder than an icebox in here and I'm already sweating up at storm. Best to get out of these clothes before I melt."

Voice smooth and welcome like warm honey, your scripted cluelessness mocks those you have willing allowed within your domain. Mortals leagues above you in earthly power had fallen to their temptations many a time before, yet they all swarm in desirous wait for the taste of one human form. Your figure released from the unflattering bulk of your robes, their eyes drink every curve the remainder of your clothing had yet to reveal. You start by kicking off your shoes and working out of the pants to relieve your legs of the strain - claws ghosting up the back of your thigh just out of reach of sinking in your flesh as you walk over to the couch. Legs strewn over one arm and your head against the over, you curve into the seat of the couch as your hands wonder between the first and second button of your shirt. You hum to yourself, spreading the opening wide with your fingers.

"This is comfortable enough already. I think I may rest here just like this."

Talons inches from grazing your skin, the buttons of your shirt scatter to the floor as your shirt is ripped off you. Crooked fingers guide your gaze up to the shadow looming above - impatience written in its returning glare. It hisses and buckles to your reach, raised canines a mere bite away from your arousing lips.

"Priest....we grow bored of the games you play. We play by your rules and avoid the members of your church... What does that give us?"

"Some of you have already wised up to the fact it's first come, first served."

The final article of your clothing removed during conversation, a heavy tongue presses from your sternum to between your legs as they're held apart by the second demon's broad shoulders. You arch as the slithering mass finds its way to your entrance, grinning at the other unfazed besides the knee jerk reaction. Frustrated to have lost this round, it rams its scarred and coarse lips against yours before straightening and shoveling its length down your throat. Trained with handling your demons before hand, you need little time to adjust despite all it gave you. A demon, but one with a heart nonetheless. It groans as you stifle a laugh, easing your tongue a vein treading your lips. Its hands find perch on your throat as other greedy hands already taken hold of the remainder of your exposed body, working you through the girth that splits you from the other end and attempting highs of their own from your irresistible and sought after flesh. All this jostling was making you more tired, but their endless touches and words of praise washed off some of your fatigue. It was nice to know that some people actually appreciated you, and would take good care of you. One of the many perks of being home.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

I've had this in my head for like, years, just making itself known every once in a while. Pre-serum Steve and Bucky.

I've seen a lot of that, but they usually write or draw pre-serum Steve being the bottom as if that feisty, asthmatic twig isn't stubborn enough to top. (I prefer top Steve if you couldn't tell)

- ✨️ anon

Yes! Yes! I love me some small feisty top and/or small feisty dom Steve!! I completely agree there needs to be more, I've seen plenty of both myself but I can always get on board with more porn, lmao.

Anyway... this was supposed to just be top pre-serum Steve, set pre-war, but, uh... I ended up blacking out and writing dom pre-serum Steve instead. Also. This ended up being human furniture kink/bondage/edging? So... I don't know how we got here 💀 but please do read it if you're interested because 😮‍💨😮‍💨

It's been a long fucking time since Steve's felt this easy and loose. He's got nothing to do today. It's a good, quiet Saturday and there's no rattle in his chest thanks to the early warm weather that isn't hot and humid enough to trigger his asthma like what tends to happen in the height of Brooklyn summers. Even better, his joints don't really even hurt today 'cause he hasn't done so much walking, cooking, or cleaning. The apartment is neat and tidy around him already. There are no sheets or clothes to launder. Last night, he even was able to steal an hour or so in their communal bathrooms for a mostly warm bath seeing as all the other tenants were out for their Friday night dancing, drinking, or whatever else they do to let off steam that's cheap.

It's a good day.

Light pouring in from their open windows along with the sounds of Brooklyn below their fire escape, the faint murmurs of neighbors through recklessly narrow walls, and the flicking of a thin newspaper with every page he turns. There's also, of course, the noise of his rasping inhales and exhales, accompanied by a slurp here and there of steaming, watered-down coffee from one of their good mugs. Steve can't handle too much caffeine, besides, he'd rather leave the bulk of their scrounged-up coffee grounds for Bucky. He's the one tumbling out of bed in the morning before it's light and usually coming home well after it's dark. And--

Oh, yeah.

That's definitely part of why he's relaxed. Not the coffee, not the clean apartment, not the newspaper (which, really, has nothing he'd like to think too hard about written across its pages, otherwise he's going to ruin his own casual calm), but Bucky.

Bucky is here, too. Just out of sight. But it's alright because Steve can hear--even with one ear that doesn't work so good--the soft, even-yet-ragged-edged breaths of Bucky.

Bucky is keeping him company, not by running his motor mouth about the sci-fi book he's most recently borrowed or talking about his plans for Saturday night, but by keeping quiet and keeping Steve comfortable.

Bucky is being very good and, really, that's the best part of Steve's Saturday afternoon.

Bucky is so good for him beneath his heels. He's still and resilient underneath Steve's feet crossed at the ankle. Just breathing even though Steve knows that he wants to whine and shake and plaster himself against Steve as he usually does when they do things like this. He's not doing any of that, though, because Steve told him sternly not to. Not if he wants to cum today.

He's to be still--as motionless as a piece of furniture. Right now, he's being a very obedient footstool. Earlier, when Steve first made himself a cup of coffee, Steve was considering making him into a pretty coffee table. But, if he did that, then he would miss out on the simple pleasure of feeling each and every subdued tremble of Bucky's body beneath him. Half quivering with unreleased need, just aching to be touched and made to cum, and half quivering with the strain of holding himself perfectly still.

Stillness is a challenge because, well, they've been at this for some time, sensual, easy, clear-headed relaxation for Steve and a syrupy, hot, spaced-out zone for Bucky. That, and, Steve hasn't been easy on him.

First, this morning, after waking entangled in Bucky's arms, Steve used his morning wood against him by stroking him until Bucky was squirming aimlessly against the pleasure and making little sounds in his sleep at how nice his dreams had become. Like that, warm and cuddled together, Steve made sure to go slow and loose with just enough stimulation to make his cock drip sticky, wet smears of pre-cum all across the smooth, flat muscle of his lower belly without rousing him to the real world but still good enough to leave him twitching and making all these precious, eat-me-up whimpers in his sleep.

Then, when he did wake up with a shocked, possessed gasp of sudden pleasure, Steve slithered down underneath their thread-bare blankets to breathe in the hot, humid, heady musk of Bucky's arousal, swallowing him down as much as he could. Sucking him and sucking him and sucking him until he was dizzy and he'd already had to squeeze his fist around the base of Bucky's cock twice. Bucky didn't get to cum this morning, leaving his cock angry and his balls heavy and swollen but drawn up, convinced they'd be allowed to cum sooner rather than later. Cute. Bucky didn't cum. But, Steve did. He rutted against Bucky's aching, weeping, red-hot cock until he spilled between their bodies. After he was finished dragging out the last smoldering coals of pleasure, he smeared the mess he made into Bucky's skin just because. Just because he can. He wants Bucky to smell like sex. He wants Bucky to not be able to twitch without the scent wafting into his nose and being sucked deep, down into his lungs, reminding him of what filth they've done.

After that, Bucky made them both breakfast. No clothes allowed. His reward for making them a good meal? Another almost-orgasm from Steve. This time, his pleasure and denial came from humping against Steve's leg after he choked down his serving of food without tasting it. He was much too interested in getting four of Steve's fingers in his mouth--shoved down his throat until his eyes watered and his own drool smeared onto his cute cleft chin from choking--after being hand-fed, kneeling on the floor between Steve's lithe, spread thighs. He had to let himself go, be dumb and sweet enough to hump Steve's leg like a dog, his face burning with humiliation and pleasure, mouth hanging open, but be well-trained enough to stop when Steve said stop, reading the signs of his approaching orgasm across his face like an open book. Steve (lightly) kicked him in the chest just to make sure he wouldn't cum--pushing him back from kneeling to spread out on their floor, naked and so hard that Steve could watch, standing, towering, over him as his cock twitched and pulsed in time with his pounding heart. Bucky whimpering the entire time like the kicked puppy he is.

gif by @/zanephillips

Lunch was held in a similar affair except for Bucky kneeling next to Steve on the couch in the living room, not at the rickety dining table with two mismatched wooden dining chairs. That, and, Bucky didn't cook lunch. He was too spacy for Steve to even let him try. So, Steve heated up some leftovers from the other night and brought them to Bucky to, again, feed him and then deny him. He was really surprised Bucky survived that because, between breakfast and lunch, Steve had been alternating between drawing Bucky, demanding he hold various different poses for him, and jerking Bucky off until he came right, right to the edge. Then. He stopped and went back to drawing. At some point, Bucky started crying. His eyes were all big and wet and innocent, his soft, pink mouth quivering, silently begging for mercy while his cock wept just as urgently from between his legs, curved up against his tummy and so fucking hard it had to hurt. His expression, raw and desperate, looks pretty damn good taking up a whole five pages of Steve's sketchbook--he wanted to get it from every angle he could and track the progression of it as Bucky cried himself out, shaky and needy but also not willing to break the scene when he knows if he waits like Steve wants, it's always so much better--but that look was much more incredible etched across Bucky's face in real life. Nothing will compare to that. Pencil on paper could never crumble like Bucky can when he's in the throes of submission.

With lunch finished, that's when Bucky's job to be a footstool began. To prep him, Steve prepped him. He worked three artist's fingers into his tight little hole with thick Vaseline--neither of them will admit it, but just the smell of it gets them both more than a little hot, it's, just, fucking trained response at this point--to stretch him out for their biggest, heaviest dildo. They don't have many. And the way Bucky's gotten then-? God, Steve doesn't wanna know who he sweet-talked or what part of town he had to go to. They just have them. And Steve, by God, will use them. He'll stuff one into Bucky that takes effort to keep inside, making him clench like a vice around it so it won't slip out--making him all full and keeping him aware of it. Then, with that inside him, Steve used his leather belt to tie Bucky's legs together, clamping his thighs shut just above the knee. He doesn't want to get away, all the moaning and ragged panting and jerky, needy squirming says that clear as day, same with his red-almost-purple, severely erect cock, but he surely won't be able to now. He won't be able to crawl. He won't be able to not feel his heavy, pent-up balls between his legs. he won't be able to do anything but stay nice and still while clenching hard on his nice, fat toy. He won't be able to see, either, since Steve took a clean rage and blindfolded him. He gagged him, too. Just because. Furniture can't see. Furniture can't talk. Furniture can't move. Furniture can't cum.

But...

Apparently, this little footstool can get wet.

He's dripping all over the floor, all that squeezing tight around his stuffed-up hole must almost be milking his prostate, making his cock just leak and leak. And the heated drip-drop of pre-cum spilling messily out from the slit of his engorged, soooo stiff cock isn't the only wetness. He's stopped crying by now, he doesn't have any tears left, nothing but hollow sobs in his chest. The other wetness that Steve is going to meanly make Bucky clean up later--it's his filthy little mess after all, being so eager and dumb that he can't even play a game for a few hours, following the simple rules Steve sets for him, just be a footrest! It's not that hard!--is his drool. He's drooling badly around the gag.

He's a fucking mess.

And he's starting to get even messier. He's breaking. Cracking. Shattering.

Underneath Steve's heels--that he might be digging into Bucky's back on purpose, maybe, he'll never tell--Bucky's breathing is getting less and less even, more and more harsh, his ribcage flexing and heaving. He's squirmier, too. His thighs quivering, challenged by having to hold him up while being held together themselves. His arms, too, are shaking. He can't take his own weight. He can't bear it. It's too much.

With a muffled, choking moan, Bucky suddenly collapses onto his hands, leaving him ass-up. Apparently, if his agonized, shuddering squeak is anything to go by, the change in angle has made the dildo inside him shove deeper into him.

Cute.

Steve does nothing more than exasperatedly, impatiently fold the newspaper he's been "reading," tossing it down across his lap, and look over at Bucky. He's a hell of a lot redder and shinier than he was the last time Steve saw him. His hair is plastered to his forehead and blindfold keeping him locked onto nothing but the sensations happening to his own body. The rest of the world tuned out. He looks feverish. If his eyes weren't covered, they'd be hazy and fucked-out, lost to anything other than Steve. And with Steve? He'll just cry and curl around him, begging for more. Anything. Anything else Steve wants to do to him. Just more. Please!

"Really?" Steve clicks his tongue, rubbing his foot along Bucky's side and belly and hip. He feels just how hard he's breathing, heaving in air and pushing it out harshly. He's quaking. Quivering. And he convulsed when Steve lets his foot uninterestedly drag over his cock. Steve knows he has shit circulation. He knows his bare feet are cold as shit over Bucky's feverish, edged cock. He doesn't care. Let him quiver and shake and let him dig his teeth into his gag trying and failing to deal with the cold, sharp pleasure. He's afraid of it, he's trying to hold back. It hurts! He doesn't know Steve's gonna make him cum like this. He's trying to save himself, how cute.

With enough force to make Bucky feel hot flares of agonizing, pleasurable pain against Steve's cold, boney foot, Steve pushes his cock up into his heaving body, pinning it tightly and rubbing back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. It doesn't take more than a minute before Bucky is letting out all these sharp, needy, gurgly sounds that mean I'm gonna cum! I'm close! I'm gonna cum! Guh-gonna! Gonna cum! Steve knows. Steve doesn't stop.

He lets Bucky cum like that, face-down, ass-up with his eyes blinded, his mouth stuffed, his thighs tied together, his greedy, twitching hole stuffed, and his balls so overfull and denied that he feels like he's gonna burst at the seams.

He does.

He cums everywhere.

The orgasm so fucking intense that he can't make a sound. He can't move. He just goes rigid and lets Steve rip it out of him. Over-overwhelmed.

"Good boy," Steve purrs, all too smug and satisfied with the teeth-rattling intensity of Bucky's orgasm.

Bucky squeaks out one last sob before going entirely limp. He's so worn out, melting down onto his belly, that he doesn't even make a sound when his oversensitive cock grates against their wooden floors.

[freakartack]

I love your Orbulon and space bunnies are sea creatures propaganda how do you even come up with that it’s so cool‼️

Thank you!! A fun fact about me is that i am actually insane about invertebrates. So when wario presented me with two made-up invertebrates i went a little insane. I do play it kind of fast and loose with these guys so i'm sure an actual specbio enthusiast would not be impressed but i'd say 40% of my creative decisions are also based in what would be the funniest (such as making sure the polyp looks like a bowling pin)

I have hinted at this via my orbiology poster but i have an entire orbulon corkboard living in my head so here is the bulk of that iceberg

Based on orbulon's aversion to heat, big ol' sunglasses, and milky complexion, i think that he is the interstellar equivalent of a cave olm. Instead of an underground cave i think he lives on a gas giant far from his system's sun, which would be cold, dark, and have a thick atmosphere for him to "swim" through. ("What about the air pressure?" You say. "Hold your horses" I say. "It will all be worth it in the end.") This reason i think it is worth it is because my model for this is uranus, the gas giant whose atmosphere contains notable amounts of, and i cannot stress this enough, methane. Tell me a more warioware planet

I also think that his planet is predominantly blue, not just because of the youranus thing but also because whenever he gets really scared he literally turns blue. Check it out

I think this is NOT the same as blushing, but a fear response similar to cuttlefish changing color to camouflage with their environment via chromatophores in their skin. Unfortunately when orbulon is scared shitless he does a bad job of it and just defaults to his home planet color, but when he actually thinks about it he can change his color and shape to be whatever he wants (such as a pretty woman).

3. On a similar note, orbulon does not have teeth but he can shapeshift his mouth to create the facsimile of teeth. This is a cool party trick but you need to know that the fake teeth are still squishy and it's really gross.

4. Orbulon's eyes are uber-sensitive to light which is why he needs those impenetrable coke-bottle sunglasses. He also doesn't have eyelids, so during his 24-hour naps his eyes are open the whole time. Sweet dreams.

5. This is going to veer out of plain biology and into his society so i'm not going to go too deep into this but basically i think that telepathy is an integral part of intraspecies communication and that their society is very communal as a result. Think like ants with pheromones, not a hivemind in that they lose their individual identities but they're definitely less atomized than humans. They're also wildly intelligent and have canonically developed time travel technology to the point where the average person can just have a time machine built into their car. This gives a little insight into orbulon's mindset here

(I don't think he's very clever by orbulon standards)

This is getting too long and crazy so i'm going to top it off with one more thing. I know orbulon is supposed to have smooth skin but in my heart i wish he had the texture of these bad boys

[postmanlinksbootyshorts]

i'm ranting abt yet another bl manhwa

i started reading even if you don't love me earlier this year and recently it concluded! i have many thoughts. none if them are nice.

for the uninitiated, even if you don't love me follows these two guys who meet in high school. the bottom is a poor guy who is continuing his education a year or two later (he initially dropped out to help support his family) and the top is a rich kid with anger issues. they go to a high school full of rich people, the poor bottom going there on a scholarship. he has plans to graduate and become a lawyer. the rich top is supposed to be taking over the conglomerate his family owns.

anyways the bottom and top share a class, and there's this other rich kid there who looks a lot like dio brando. he notices that the top is pretty antagonistic towards the bottom so he goes and tries to strike up a friendship with the bottom. this pisses the top off, ofc it does.

anyways the bottom and the top eventually start dating, he begins to spoil the bottom, even going as far as getting him a puppy. although the bottom felt uncomfortable with relying on the top so much all is well.

until it isn't. the bottom's dad dies in a hit and run, his colossal debt dumped onto him now, and he drops out again to work to pay it off.

now here's where i start to get annoyed with this manhwa.

someone dubbed this manhwa "even if you misunderstand me" and that really summarizes all 135 characters of it 💀 i'm perfectly fine with drama and dark plots but oh my GOD, 65% of the drama came from these idiots not communicating AT ALL. and it's acceptable-ish when they're seniors in high school (19 and 17), their miscommunication that set them up for failure started back then, but the manhwa does like 3 timeskips over the course of close to a decade if not longer, and the bulk of their miscommunication happens when they're too fucking old to be behaving like this. the other 35% of the drama is because they didn't fucking communicate as well. there's a difference between these two forms of miscommunication LOL

the first comes from them simply not talking their issues out. the other comes from them not telling each other shit. for example, towards the end of the manhwa the bottom gets kidnapped by dio brando and that could have been ENTIRELY AVOIDED had the top actually explained that dio brando is a psycho druggie and fucking hates his guts AND will go to extreme lengths to take whatever the top has his eyes on. this should have been explained to the bottom WHEN THEY WERE IN HIGH SCHOOL instead of the top playing it off as being possessive. another example is how dio brando is the one behind the bottom'a father dying. the top could have just told him that instead of fucking up their relationship even more by paying off the debt and forcing the bottom to pay him back then assaulting him when he was like several minutes late to paying him back at the agreed time. the reason he was late is bc he'd gotten beat up and gang raped at one of his jobs.

and that brings up another issue i have w the manhwa. the assaults that happened to the bottom genuinely don't make sense. i get why he got gang raped (dio brando set him up). but at one of his previous jobs his cowokers raped him there too? he was working at like a mining company or something in the mountains i think. was that really necessary. the top forcing him to give him a blowjob after he paid him back late didn't make much sense either but i will let that slide since he was trying to be a hardass.

anyways they eventually got to the point where they were making an effort to communicate which was way too late in the story, lol. it was nice to see but immensely annoying to stumble thru 100+ chapters of them having the stupidest beef bc they're like 7 year olds in the body of adults. at the end dio brando kidnapped the bottom and tried to rape him but he got stabbed in the eye and that stalled him long enough for the top to bust in guns blazing and nearly beat him to death. dio brando got sent to the psych ward and the top paid some guy to kill him in there. they live happily ever after with their dog. 3/10 story, i feel like this manhwa being officially published really tanked the quality of the story, but i feel this way about pretty much every manhwa i've picked up, it's just more obvious in some vs others

[killian-whump]

Edit: I’m leaving this original post as-is, because to change it now would be disingenuous and unfair to the people who voiced (honestly, very valid) outrage at what this post seemed to be saying. This was not meant to be a post about racism or about POC whumpers’ struggles to feel comfortable in the Whump Community. The post about racism that I mention in the first paragraph was merely the starting point for a thought process that got me thinking about the niche quality of the fandom side of the Whump Community. Much like in a fetish community, many whumpers are here for their one specific Whumpee or to scratch their one very specific trope itch. It was that phenomenon that my post was meant to be addressing - and the best way, in that sense, to get your own itch scratched is by starting a blog about it and hoping others with the same Whumpee/interest come out to join you. I made a grave error by referring to the post about racism in the beginning, and using POC Whumpees as an example of a “specific itch” that someone might want to scratch. By doing so, I gave the wrong impression that this was a post (1) about the other post and (2) about racism. It wasn’t meant to be either, and I should have been much more careful in making this post to make sure I did not give the wrong impression. Racism in fandom is a very serious issue; the tendency for niche communities to create insular mini-communities (tables, if you will) based on highly specific individual needs is not. And it’s the latter that this post was meant to be about! Hope that clears it up and keeps further feathers from being ruffled. Love to you all!

I’ve been thinking more about that post about racism in the Whump Community. Despite how big the Whump Community’s gotten and how quickly it’s exploded and evolved into a big, bustling community... It is still what would be considered a niche community.

As such, it is built entirely by the individuals in the community, to cater specifically to their own needs and in the hopes that others might share their specific interests. You can’t expect a table to already be laid out for you in a niche dining hall. You have to grab a table yourself, put your own favorite dishes on it... and hope others come and join you for dinner. Because niche communities are what they are because they’re not for everybody. They’re only for the individuals who are part of them - and they exist to cater to the needs and wants of those people.

But that doesn’t mean groups/interests who aren’t “part” of the community yet are being excluded. It just means no one’s grabbed a table and slapped some of those dishes on it yet. And why haven’t you? Haven’t you ever seen Field of Dreams? “If you build it, they will come.” Get building! Communities don’t build themselves, and life’s too short to wait for others to build your happy space for you.

That’s what I did. I saw some Hook content in the whump blogs, but I knew there could be a lot more. I saw some whumpy writings in the OUAT community, but I knew there could be a lot more. I wanted more. So I made a blog to curate and celebrate what was already out there, and to connect with others who (like me) enjoyed that kind of content. The hope was (and forever is) that other creators would join in and make more content. And they did! They SO did!

And it’s not like the community as a whole decided one day to start putting white boys in boxes. One individual somewhere just thought it would be a good idea, threw a dude in a box and shipped him off to a sadist... and a new section of the community was born. And apparently so many other people crammed chairs around that table that it’s become an entire universe now, through some magic of fandom space evolution or something. And it does seem like they’re still mostly white boys, but I’m sure if you order a POC boy, they’ll happily ship you one. Or hell, order twenty! You’ll probably get a bulk purchase discount, and everyone likes a good bargain.

The point is... The Whump Community is what WE make it - and that includes YOU, whoever you are. If you want more of something - make it. Or at least provide a place for other people seeking such content to congregate so you can use the powerful force of collective puppy dog eyes to get others to make/share content with you. Hey, it works!

And if anyone out there makes/has a POC whump blog (that focuses on fictional whump scenarios other than non-fictional slavery/racism scenarios), lemme know. I’m definitely down for that!

[devouredbyflame]

Hi there! I am fairly new to working with Loki and have never had a reading of any kind before but I just keep getting this feeling that he's kinda been poking at me to ask you for one ever since I saw your post offering them. If you feel pulled to answer, is there something that he's been trying to get through to me that I've been missing? I also feel like I've been feeling a lot of anger and frustration and sadness from him because of the state of the world at the moment. Is there something he'd like me to be doing to better serve him or ease some of the suffering (either his or the rest of us)? Or am I totally off base here and reading too much into our latest interactions, lol? Anyways, even if you don't take this request, thank you for offering these readings to the community. I appreciate you and your work.

Hi anon! Thank you for reaching out.

I am most definitely able to give you a reading.

First, I pulled three cards and two of them are major arcana and one is minor and all three are reversed. The word “troubleshooting” comes to mind, too, and I am not quite sure what that means.

I pulled the tower and the hermit reversed and then I also pulled the page of wands reversed.

It sounds like you are coming to terms with the reality of things and it is making it difficult for you to get the fact that it may be a bit harder than you expect to do so. It is mostly going to be difficult because the way you are approaching it is limiting the way you feel about Loki. He is trying to adjust your expectations because it’s only going to get a bit worse as time goes on because it can be annoying for him to deal with and he does tend to get a bit frustrated with the way things so often end up going. He wants to get into the bulk of the issue rather than dancing along the edge of the subject with you if that makes sense.

It’s not that you’re difficult - you’re only human and He has His own faults He has to come to terms with - but He is wanting you to enjoy the way that growth happens rather than assuming it will come all at once and wreak havoc on your daily life. Not everything will be made obvious at once. You may see improvement if you let go and try to understand that the point of this is not to dismay you but for you to respond in a way that is uniquely yourself - fully embodied and capable even if it doesn’t feel like it at first.

Disregard some of the things He has said that has influenced the way you look at things. The way the world is going is something He has seen far longer ahead than we ever would have imagined. That is why, in fact, the message He wants to get out is that now is the time for Him to be here and He wants to be with humans and He wants to help us battle our own worst enemies so that we can also come home to our own belief systems instead of going along with everyone else’s. He is struggling to communicate most of all with the people He really wants to which is why He has taken it upon Himself to use people as His voices. He wishes to ease the panic He has caused in humans and readjust the assumption that everything that happens is their doing and their fault and set an example for things to come before shit really hits the fan. Things are deliberately set up for a reason and it is not going to be what people think it will be.

Going back to the word “troubleshooting” and the cards I pulled, I think He adequately addressed it all in His message. He is mostly concerned with the reactions He’s had and the anchor to the situation He needs to spell it out for you. He would recommend you starting to journal or write to Him so He may more easily get across to you His point. That would also serve as an anchor as well as it would be something you created that He can easily use to keep track of everything more efficiently.

I suppose tarot ended up not being the way He wanted to communicate and instead just directly ended up with a message. I hope that is everything you needed to hear but let me know if you need any additional clarification and I would be happy to provide.

[alexanderflowerbird]

DAY 5 So I managed to sit down and write today despite the looming stress of my country being a fucking dumpster fire lol I have buffer writing for days where I really just can't get myself to go, but despite everything today was not one of those days. Tricking myself into getting out of my bed, off my phone and onto my computer to write was the hardest part and then boom, another 1130 words to add to the pile! I'm proud of it, even if I am exhausted, and disillusioned, and not looking forward to tomorrow at all lol. There isn't much else to report, I'm sure other Americans can empathize with the loss for words and the desire to simply lay down, drink the nearest alcoholic beverage and wait to see what sort of evil we're in for the next four years. Boo. Hiss. Tomato tomato.

Here's the excerpt for you- it's for New Faith today, and Vincente is having a break down at long last. We love to see a strong, stoic man have a fuckin' melt down don't we? For context he's just watched a woman he considers his sister be possessed, be used as a beacon to possess the entirety of his town, and then, after a blinding and awe striking moment of supernatural helplessness, watched those same neighbours and friends eat her body. Ouch. Mercutio loves him so much, but being someone's stress ball can have you asking some questions about what you deserve, and what you will do for love.

my taglist: @theskeletonprior @badscientist @tragedycoded If you'd like to be added to my taglist please interact with this post

Mercutio is just on the edge of sleep when the bed shifts under him, when weight and heat converge upon him in the dark and with it, the skin-to-skin contact that tells him that Vincente’s anger has finally failed him. There’s such immense sadness… He doesn’t need to feel it, to know, but he feels it all the same. Vincente’s body presses against his over the covers, his bulk half pressed over Mercutio as he lays himself out and rests his cheek against Mercutio’s chest. He must hear his heart beat, must feel the uptick in Mercutio’s pulse up under his jaw, but he never speaks when he gets like this. It’s pure momentum, action that can only be diminished by the use of words. What Vincente’s feeling can’t be spoken away with empty condolences or even heartfelt understanding. Mercutio’s heart breaks for him as he thinks towards the last time Vincente climbed into a bed with him like this… it’s been so long, years, and in between now and then there had been so much happiness and safety, all lost now, torn apart like Vanessa, in the end. 

Mercutio wraps his arms around Vincente’s shoulders, one hand cupping the back of his neck, the other spread out across the space between his shoulder blades, and just by touching him like that, many things are communicated between them. Vincente isn’t an empath but they’ve known each other too long for contact like this to be miscommunicated. The only part that gets lost is how much Mercutio loves him, how terribly he wishes they didn’t come together like this only when Vincente is broken and must be physically held together for a few hours in order to keep going. Vincente has never asked why Mercutio allows this, won’t speak of it with such dedication that if it hadn’t happened over and over again in their years together Mercutio would think that the nights where Vincente relied on him in such a way were some sort of recurring, lovesick dream. 

He will only do it in complete darkness, and he’s always pulled away by the time morning comes, like a figment of undiluted grief, a selfish, illusory lover that only takes. Mercutio can pretend that this gives him something, he can even truly say at least within his heart that it’s a gift to be chosen, to be the only one Vincente let's hold him like this, but… it feels like a lie, is a lie, to say that he gets as much from it as Vincente does. It doesn’t have to be fair, does it? Mercutio can’t bear to ask for it to be fair and risk asking for more than Vincente can give him. 

He listens to Vincente’s breathing, the steady, restrained rhythm of it. He might cry, Mercutio can feel it coming on like a storm, but if he does, the most warning Mercutio will get is his own tears, his empathic ability overpowering him, taking in Vincente’s grief and making it at least partially, physically his own. His eyes are already feeling glassy as he closes them and sighs, stroking across Vincente’s back in slow passes, arching a little when Vincente’s arm tightens around his midsection and bends him closer. Mercutio almost laughs, thinking it would have made a huge difference in Vincente’s emotional processing if he’d invested in a body pillow– but now isn’t the time for laughing or jokes, breaking the tension is nothing short of disrespectful. He can endure the discomfort quietly, like he has before. It’s different now, of course, after years and years, and being neighbors, and a thousand breakfasts and easy talks and so little to be so very, very sad about, but he can remember how to behave, how to be the sort of in love with Vincente that allows himself to be used like this. 

He knows that when things were really bad, when the demons were winning and people were dying and they hadn’t decided to give up yet, he would’ve done just about anything for Vincente, to dam off the grief, to take just a fraction of it off of his shoulders and convince him, somehow, that while the work they did was good it wasn’t their responsibility to quell every evil, to win every holy battle, to always walk away victorious. He would’ve said back then that that was God’s job, and God was shit at it because demons were still killing people. They would’ve fought about that, would’ve screamed at each other, passionately philosophical, not really determined to change each other’s minds as much as admit their frustrations… and even still, even after that… Vincente would come like this in the darkness and hold him close and make him feel the loss with his extra sense. 

He isn’t sure now, how much he’s willing to put on the altar… he wants Vincente to be well, he feels awful about Vanessa, about Ms. Dorothy, about their town… but there is a bitterness in his heart about the fact that now they’re running towards the darkness again. They’d said they’d stop. Vincente could manage that, could come to a halt and pretend the evil of the world was too far away for him to do anything about it, but now that it’s close, rather than running away from it with Mercutio, he wants to run towards it knowing Mercutio can’t stand it to part from him. Manipulative asshole. Most beloved in the whole world. 

Mercutio feels Vincente’s breath hitch, and just as it does a tear streaks down his own cheek. He squeezes Vincente, and Vincente squeezes him back. They curl into each other, tangled into one thing. Vincente sobs, a sound that is low, crushing agony lilting up into the pained whining of a dog. Mercutio breathes slowly as tears come and won’t stop, not his tears, not entirely. There are no thoughts, no clarity for what parts of it have torn Vincente’s walls down, but Mercutio can guess and that’s enough to buoy him through the raw tragedy of it. Vanessa’s death, this enormous, unknowable failure, the uncertainty and helplessness of their place in a ruthless, multi realmed war. The demons are winning in a whole new horrific way, and what do they have to go against them? What are they, now, but witnesses? That sort of helplessness in a man like Vincente, who is a warrior through and through… it is enough to cause a man who has not cried in years to fall utterly apart. Mercutio lets the damp choking of Vincente’s cries fall into the hollow of his throat. How he loves him, to keep this secret for him and let it seem as though he has no inkling of it come morning.

[mysticsparklewings]

Obscutober 2024 Day 31: Paracosm 🦄

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Paracosm (n.)

a detailed imaginary world, especially one created by a child

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Inktober is officially OVER!! 🥳YAHOO!! 🎉 

…Oh, and Happy Halloween, too. 🎃

I did my best to go out on a high note, and I think I largely succeeded…even if the results aren’t very Halloween-ish. 😅 

Click the "Keep Reading" and we'll talk a bit more about my general thoughts/process. ✨

Like My Art and Want to see more of it? Here's All My Links! ⭐️

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At long last, we end very similarly to how it all began: In a "world" of sparkle and starlight. 😉

I could wax poetic here about how glad I am to be done, but I think me just saying those words alone is plenty enough of that for tonight. Besides, if you really want to split hairs, it's not over until we do the wrap-up image you Sparklers know I usually like to do...

Anyway. I'm not sure my posting time will reflect this by the time I get done with this description, but I did start on this one early enough in the day to give myself plenty of time to brainstorm and play with the concepts a bit. Though, in fairness, I don't think I actually ended up scratching that many ideas or changing my mind all that much as I worked; I think the bulk of my time was just spent trying to figure out where to squeeze in more detail. After all, the definition does say a detailed imaginary world.

Now, I will admit that I'm not entirely sure this really evokes "world" so much as "little house," ("playhouse?") but this is very much another word I put on the list thinking it would be fun to play with in poetry format. More specifically, I was thinking of how satisfying it was to end Obscutober 2021 with "Phantasmagoria"Obscutober 2021 with "Phantasmagoria" as the final word and was hoping for a similar experience.

But as we discussed yesterday: I'm not working in poetry format this time! 🙃

So I relied on the same "Adult Coloring Book Vibes" that I was trying to channel yesterday, because when I think of trying to encapsulate a tiny imaginary world in a detailed but simple drawing, a lot of Johanna Basford's work comes to mind, particularly her book "Small Victories."

From there, a tiny house as an "easy" way to communicate this is meant to somehow be representative of a whole world wasn't a far leap of logic, so that's what I ran with.

I will also take this opportunity to point out that I deliberately drew the houses to point inward, towards the center of the mandala, to kind of go along with the idea of an "inner" world. It was also just a nice change because I somehow did not really notice until today that every other Obscutober piece I've done this month except maybe Day 7 all "point" outward in some way. ���

Not that which way they "point" matters all that much, I'm just surprised I didn't really notice I hadn't taken advantage of the ability to "point" inward. That could've been fun to play with on Day 23 in particular!

It also doesn't really show at all, but I was thinking about Haunted Houses when I drew the little house, since tonight is Halloween, which is part of why it doesn't use very many properly straight lines...And you might be able to see a the tiniest bat I have ever drawn in my life over the door! But that's about as far as I got with making the house look "haunted." I had thoughts of pushing it further, but I held back because I knew I wanted to get kind of rainbow-y with the color scheme and didn't want the house to clash too much with that.

And as you can probably tell, I also just didn't have a ton of space to play with a lot of fine "spooky" details and have them actually be recognizable. The windows on the house were pushing the limits as it was. 😅

Speaking of windows, I'm not sure how well it comes across, but I did try to put some edging around the houses to create kind of a cathedral/stained glass window effect. Ironic as heck considering I mostly tried to avoid that kind of thing all month previously because I had two glass-specific words I wanted to let have that option on the table...And then I mostly didn't even use that effect for those specific days. 🙃

But! Go big or go home, I wanted to have fun and I like stained glass, so here we are!

I kind of tried to tie the "world" aspect back into it by filling some of the "glass" spaces with those cobblestone-ish spaces. Obviously it's not a "yellow brick road" as in a certain imaginary world because it's not all yellow, but calling it a "rainbow stone road" in similar fashion would be fair, I think. 😉 It's cute and goes super well with the stained glass impression...In fact that might be carrying the whole stained gladd impression by itself, but I'll let Sparklers decide that for yourselves.

Also, to my credit, I did try to bring in a little more "spook" by going with moths to help fill out the rest of the space rather than my first choice, butterflies. Butterflies don't really specifically have anything to do with imaginary worlds, I know, but they seem to have gotten filed in the same folder in my brain. At the very least you could draw the connection between butterflies (and moths), fairies, and magic, which would fit in nicely with an imaginary world.

However, my compromise was starting with the very butterfly-esque Luna moth, which is more colorful but they do have a very eye-like marking on their wings, which I attempt to use to my full advantage here (while still attempting to keep it at least a little abstract).

I was actually going to have all Luna moths all the way around, but when I copied & rotated the layer I discovered they were too long and go cut off on the other 4-points, which I did not like the look of.

So rather than have to figure out something else to draw in their place or re-draw new months from scratch, I erased the bottoms of the wings, altered the shape of what was left a bit, then changed the antennae and the "eyes" on the wings to be a bit different. Boom! New "normal" brown-ish moths. 🦋 And y'know, the brownish moths don't get enough love compared to their flashier counterparts anyway, so they deserve to be here and I'm happy to have them.

To polish things off, I felt it essential to have a rainbow border. More than anything else, I associate rainbows with the concept of imagination. I very nearly put some clouds in there too, but then I remembered how surprsingly annoying it's been to get cloud shapes I'm happy with in this format at various points earlier in the month. So no clouds, just more rainbow bits to fill the space where the clouds would've been.

Besides, this way it kind of looks like the moths are going to fly over the houses, bringing the rainbows with them, which is a pretty cute idea. 😊

And then I topped things off with some stars/sparkles because one of my earlier ideas was to get some trees in here and maybe evoke the idea of laying out under the stars at night, letting your imagination run wild. But as evidenced by my little trees stumps, I did not actually get very far in entertaining that particular idea. 😅

Setting the scene at night does go better with the hints of more Halloween-ish themes, though, so all is well.

The colors then are about as self-explanation as you can get. The only thing I didn't really touch on is that I tried to make the house black/purple with red roofing, but I kept the layers light because I didn't want the coloring in those spots to stick out too much. I think it's better if the house can kind of "blend in" as just a small final nudge to the idea that they're just a small part of a larger world, rather than their own central figure. If that makes any sense.

In the end, I do think this turned out as one my better more doodle-y attempts for the month. Just goes to show what a difference actually having time to think about what the heck I was doing can make. [I say knowing my past self cannot hear/see this yet because that's how the past works.]

And I do think this is among my favorites for the month, but I'm still not quite ready to say it's my favorite-favorite. It is missing some more "traditional" mandala touches that make it harder to compare with those that strike the doodle vs. traditional balance better. I tried to squeeze a couple things in there, but ultimately my other ideas literally and figuratively took up to much space to really leave room for that.

It looks good—great even!—though! So I'm thrilled to go out on a relatively high note, especially after the last few prompts both gave me trouble and were a bit of a whirlwind to make since I was so bad at giving myself enough time to make them in. 😅

...Well, it's a high note for now. We'll see how hard of a time I have with cross-posting and if that dampens my mood too much or not. 🫠

Still, that won't change the fact that I am DONE. I DID IT!! And now I can safely focus all of my attention on a certain other project I've been working on prepping for November in the background all the while.

Still, that won't change the fact that I am DONE. I DID IT!! And now I can safely focus all of my attention on a certain other project I've been working on prepping for November in the background all the while.

I'll see you Sparklers tomorrow, bright and...colorful. 😉 👋

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See the Prompt List

Artwork © me, MysticSparklewings

Obscutober Concept Inspired by nikolas_tower

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[comradeboyhalo]

I would be interested in seeing the tierlist if you made it

i was going to make this a separate post but ill just answer this here. also im obviously going to be biased bc i see some eggs more than others and ofc i miss out on a good chunk of lore bc i only know english. so if im wrong, theres a reason for that!

my hot take is that roleplaying as a child > any other lore crafted. so that shapes the bulk of this list. AND NO SLANDER THEY ALL DO REALLY WELL, THIS LIST IS NITPICKY BC I OVERALL LOVE THEM ALL.

dapper: I SWEAR IM NOT (COMPLETELY) BIASED. a few months ago, dapper's admin would be quite lower, however he's really gone crazy with rp recently. his body language is really cute and feels very childlike, and i really enjoy how he saves emotional sucker-punches when you least expect it. his deathday signs hit that much harder because he rarely shares his feelings. the soul vulture lore was really well drawn-out with a great pay-off. and it all felt very in character and gave so much character development. if dapper openly shared his feelings all the time with bad, i dont think any of this would feel as powerful.

leo: leo feels so much like a character, and i mean that entirely positively. whenever i see her, i feel like i dont even think of QNPC05, i just think LEO. shes spoiled and bratty but in an adorable way, her body language just screams CHILD, and her use of different heads is so fun. also she was the first egg to use colored signs! she has a lot of worries and social anxiety, but i feel like whenever she communicates these to foolish, it never feels info-dumpy. its actually very impressive how much emotion she can put across just through body language.

richarlyson: i actually was wondering if richas should be lower and everyone raises their pitchforks. i know. hear me out. i really like how detailed richas' admin does his lore HOWEVER i sometimes feel like he doesn't act baby enough. idk. theres something about how leo and dapper emote, and even their worries and insecurities, that makes me see them as much younger. that being said, richas' dedication to family conflict is really well-done and something that more eggs should do. (and for everyone disagreeing with me, i know. i know why im wrong. but i just cant help the vibes i get im sorry?). i get a lot of cuteness agression when he shifts to check if people are following him tho 10/10

tallulah: tallulah and pomme are interchangeable bc they both do what i DONT prefer in rp, which is writing out your feelings. dont get me wrong, its great to know the eggs' thoughts, but those sort of angst dumps just dont hit as hard every stream. tallulah just edges out pomme bc she is a bit more irrational, and makes a lot of mistakes, which i think is a brave move in rp.

pomme: pomme has a really well-crafted character, but, again, i really prefer eggs who are harder to figure out vs eggs who lay all their feelings out. pomme is a bit too influential in bbh's lore decisions imo, sometimes i think she should let things play out a bit further before she tries to reign him back. i know shes just rping, but metawise, i think the admin should let him cook a little longer. i do really think she has a great "child soldier" vibe going on, which feels v much uniquely hers. i just think she could take more risks in rp, pomme is a very logical egg but she's still just a child. i dont want her to always choose the logical answer, i want to see how her young perceptions can force her to make a wrong decision.

ramon: ramon is sort of a weird case in that hes ABOVE tallulah/pomme cause he doesnt do what i dislike. however hes below them in general characterization. that being said, hes really underrated in his relationship with fit, and has some very gut-punching one liners. but hes also kind of like richas where i know LOGICALLY he does roleplay like a kid but i just. the vibes are not the same as dapper and leo. what can i do about that. hes just too competent i guess.

chayanne: chayanne is another egg thats hard for me to catch on stream, but i havent really felt any standout moments from 01 or 06 (however i think 01 plays best cucurucho). idk. i know chayanne's personality pretty well, i just need something...more. maybe i just tune in at the wrong times? i DO love his opinions on philever tho lmaoo. i think his best moment was when he kept trying to fight while quackity repeatedly told him he wasnt strong (reinforcing his greatest fear). and i think the fact that chayanne isnt placed in more dangerous situations really hinders his development (since hes understanding of why phil keeps him protected).

[3rddimension]

Other people on here are saying a lot about the body-shaming thing and I just wanted to build off of what that other anon said about strongmen. Essentially, your body needs fat to sustain high amounts of muscle. Without that you'll get tired because your body will be essentially running on fumes trying to sustain all that bulk.

There is an unfortunate steriotype about men's bodies where people think that the types of ripped dudes that they see in movies are what peak male physique is, and that couldn't be further from the truth. Thing is, most male actors who get buff like that are either taking steroids(people like The Rock and Chris Evans to put forth some random examples) or on strict training regiments that force them to cut and effectively starve themselves to look good on camera. And there's nothing wrong with either of those, unless for example, you're like The Rock and lie when asked if take steroids.

The problem is that it creates unrealistic stereotypes. If you ask anyone who works out a lot and does a lot of bulking and cutting, they'll tell you that when the people around them thought they looked their "best" was actually when their body generally felt the worst, because they cut too hard trying to make their muscles more defined.

Real people who are just trying to get stronger for themselves(people like Shayne, who has mentioned that working out for him is not about looking good and more about feeling good and pushing himself) are gonna get guts! I mean, look at Ify even! Dude has a gut way bigger than Shayne's, but he's also ASTRONOMICALLY strong. If you look at his socials the man is effectively a bodybuilder with how much he trains.

I mean, at the end of the day, the be-all-end-all is just worry about your own damn body, but I wanted to help educate people more about this shitty misconception a lot of people have about what they think a "bulky" man should look like. Shayne is an absolutely gorgeous, admirable human and he deserves nothing but praise for all the work he puts into himself, even if he's not doing it for congratulations. Love this community for pushing back against shitty bodyshaming people like that.

Thanks for the long details! I'm not really in that realm of stuff but fascinating to read about it.

[cellard0ors]

They grow older over time.

Travis and Laura can't meet every night, but they work out a system to see one another. They even find time to hang out during daylight hours.

Travis manages to smuggle her more clothes too - things that actually fit. Granted, he knows he's probably breaking the law and sinning up a storm,(considering he gets a bulk of the clothes from his Church's community donations) but he feels it's worth it in the long run.

The two go on many adventures in the woods surrounding Hackett's Quarry - playing pretend games where they're spies or fighting against robot overlords or the like.

Laura is a big fan of playing the role of the strong warrior - always objecting if Travis ever tries to make her a damsel in distress.

"Y'know, there's nothing wrong with playing the part of the princess sometimes." Is his normal argument, but then she counters with, "So why don't you do it then?"

She always wins.

As days turn into months turn into years, Travis and Laura mature into their teens and it's here that things begin to take a drastic change.

Mainly because of one fall afternoon when the two are reading comics and Laura asks apropos of nothing, "Do you think we should kiss?"

Travis, having just turned fourteen two days ago, is just at the age where he's curious about such things, but the suggestion still catches him totally off guard, "WhAt?"

...his voice has also started to change - shifting between cracking and squeaking, so, fun...

Laura seems unconcerned, "Just been thinking it might be worth a try. Jean Grey and Cyclops kiss all the time. See?"

She turns a page of the X-Men comic she's been reading towards him and sure enough it shows the two characters kissing.

Travis feels hot under the collar of his polo shirt and tugs at it, "Um. I dunno. I mean...wouldn't it be weird? We're like - best friends."

"Do best friends not kiss?"

"I mEaN-!?" Travis's palms are sweaty and he's suddenly looking at Laura like he's never seen her before.

He's always known she has blue eyes, but now they seem extra blue. And so bright. And her lips seem to stand out more than ever. Her mouth is so pink. So...there.

He tugs at his collar again and Laura rolls her eyes and sighs, "Look, if you don't want to-?"

"I WaNT tO!"

...Travis really wishes his voice would hurry up and just change.

Laura smirks as if she knew that would be his eventual answer. She always seems to know these things, she always seems to be ten steps ahead of him.

Travis clears his throat and edges closer to her. They're sitting outside in a field, a soft breeze rolling through the trees nearby and as he's wondering if he should move first, she beats him to it.

It's strange to see - his eyes open and all, her lips heading right for him. He's never had someone so close before, and his first instinct is to back away, because it seems so bizarre to have anyone in his personal space like this - but then her lips brush his.

They're...wet. And warm. And it feels...kinda nice. She does this strange motion where she pushes her lips out and then pulls them back and he finds himself naturally following, mimicking her actions.

Then her tongue comes out and he gasps, drawing away with wide eyes, "What was THAT?!"

A notch forms between Laura's eyebrows in confusion, "Aren't you supposed to use your tongue? I think tongues are part of it."

Travis is sure she's right and then it occurs to him that her knowing about kissing is strange, considering what she is and where she's from only for her to say, "That's how we Mers do it anyway."

"Mers kiss?!?"

"I've told you, Travis!" She groans, this argument and old one, "We're not that different from you. We even make babies on land like you do."

"MAkE-?!" The very idea makes Travis turn so red in the face it hurts. His expression must be hilarious, because Laura busts out laughing, practically falling on her back, body quaking with it.

However, once she catches her breath and wipes the tears of humor from her eyes, she turns to him and says softly, almost shyly, "I liked it "

Travis is confused at first about what she means but then it hits him and he flushes proudly, "Oh! Um, me too..."

"Good!" Laura returns brightly and then swoops towards him, "Then you won't mind some more!"

Her mouth latches back to his and he lets out a little woof of air as she knocks him to the ground. She scrambles over him, kissing his mouth in earnest, her tongue still trying to find a way to work itself into the situation.

It takes a few minutes, but once her tongue is in his mouth - once it meets his...

Travis lets out a sound he's never heard himself make before and his hands end up in her hair and they're kissing for awhile before Laura pulls away panting and asks oh-so-innocently, "Travis?"

"Mmm?"

"Something... something's poking into me. I think a big stick got between us or-?"

Immediately Travis shoves Laura up from him and sits up, legs tugged close to himself. He's sure at any moment he'll self-immolate. Self-immolation would be kinder than admitting that what Laura felt between them was no 'big stick'.

Laura, for her part, looks lovely - her hair all tousled, expression dreamy even as she asks, "Why did you-?"

"NoThiNg!" Comes from him a tagged, twisted mess, "JUst forget abOut it."

Laura just draws in a breath and nods, thankfully not pushing the issue. It's unlike her to do so, but he supposes the introduction of kissing - something they've never done - has knocked her off her game.

Thank God.

They sit there in silence for awhile, the afternoon sun settling slowly into twilight even as Laura asks, "Hey...Travis?"

"Yeah?"

"...even though we're best friends...is it okay if we kiss more in the future?"

Travis can't help but smile when he answers, "Yes. Yes, it's okay."

[jheselbraum]

They lierally weren't in a relationship. It's implied by the ganon awakening memory and her own diary and other dislogue she never actually proposed by chickened out. Why would she gasp seeing Link staring at Zelda if he was actually engaged to mipha? Media literacy dead

I just want to say congratulations to the Gravity Falls fandom. After nearly twelve years on tumblr and a truly staggering amount of blocked fans and admittedly incendiary posts on my part not a single one of you verifiably went on anon to get around a block and into my ask box. Not even that time I opened up about my personal family issues and got attacked for it by dozens of people. Everyone who got blocked stayed blocked. In fact, no one from any of the circles I post in has ever done this, hence why I'm even dignifying this ask from a pathetic individual who ships like they're an adult Harry Potter fan with a response: to commemorate the occasion.

In this time of mass exodus due to racism and transphobia from staff as well as our user data being sold to an ai model which will immediately die the moment it tries to train itself with it, it's wonderful to know that there are still parts of the true tumblr experience that I too can take part in, and that despite tumblr's waning growth and popularity, despite my own waning time on this site, when I do eventually log off for the final time I'll be able to rest easy, knowing that I truly was a part of this community... And knowing that the part of the community I primarily interacted with during the bulk of my time here, despite a brief period filled with completely untagged old man incest porn in the main character tags, never pulled this shit, and never got to the point where every third post in a given ship tag was a complaint, about random bullshit that doesn't matter and isn't actually something anyone was mad at in the first place.

Truly it would cheapen the experience, to complain about a bunch of unrelated topics, characters, and ships you don't like, in the tags of a ship that you do actually like, to the point where someone going into that tag looking for shipping content of the ship they like has to deal with a bunch of annoying crap that isn't shipping content and is rude to other people for no fucking reason.

The humble vagueblog has existed as a vital part of your fandom's existence since the beginning, dear Gravity Falls fandom, and you have used and honed the practice well. Your tags have not been infested with pages of unrelated crap from a new set of people very week who think the rest of us enjoy them spamtagging their complaints, and our tags have not been infected with people who don't like what's being posted in that tag posting in the tag anyways about how much they dislike the content of the tag they're posting in. All the porn is now tagged properly and no one is freaking out about people who don't ship their ship, not even when that ship consists of two characters who are at the same developmental stage for their respective species, and are not related to each other. As the fandom of a children's show from 2010s era tumblr you have truly exceeded all expectations. Gaze upon this ask, on this shadow of a shark beneath our little rowboat and know that I thank you, and that if and when I do eventually leave this site I will leave satisfied. Know that if there ever comes a time where I begin posting zelink content full time, I will be in hell trying to block annoying assholes all over again, because every third post in the zelink tag is made by someone like this who clearly has nothing better to do with their time than complain about a naked fish lady who is dead and does not interfere with the ships they actually like because she's not real and you don't have to include her in your fic or engage with the people who like her if you don't want to.

Because obviously the zelink ship tag is the only place one can complain about a fictional teenage dolphin with boobs being in a relationship with a fictional teenage human, and obviously a fictional dolphin with boobs is the biggest problem this fandom has so someone has to say something, it'd be rude not to tag this Voltron fandom level bullshit as zelink.