#answered asks

[aflowergarden]

I love croissants chair

Chair??? Chair?? Do I look like a chair to you. How dare you put this on my name. I'm going to fucking beat you with a chair you piece of shit. I'm going to fucking croissant your entire house. How do you like that. You croissant loving piece of shit. I hope you choke on one

[xocherrypop]

If I ever got arrested this is how I’d like the experience to be

[kamuch-kommando]

id really love to see your poseidon surrounded by his flowers, the poseidon rose <3

i loved it so much i finished it and made it my profile picture hehehe <3

(11.02.2025)

[wileys-russo]

Would you consider writing a fic about r comforting Mapi through all these allegations?

No. would you consider a brain transplant? because what the fuck is wrong with you to even ask that????? this is a real life situation. not a work of fiction. where a real person has been made to feel violated and harassed in her workplace. and then subjected to some absolutely disgusting slurs and insults i’ve seen hurled on X just this morning alone.

seriously, step away from your phone and seek some fucking help

[achromatophoric]

Wednesday: She’s quite disgustingly adorable when she’s sleeping.

Enid: *loud, obnoxious snoring*

Yoko: So cute.

Wednesday: She is radiant.

*AwoooOoooOooo*

Yoko: Aww, she’s even howling in her sleep.

Enid: *still snoring like a dump truck*

Yoko: 🤨

Yoko: Hold on, how’d she howl like that while snoring?

Wednesday: Bold of you to assume that was a howl.

Yoko: 😦

Yoko: ☹️

Yoko: Ew.

[pigeonstab]

god I just realized your the one who drew that dream with facial hair a couple months back. unironically I think about it so fucking often, like, constantly. like for months now. that was back in nov. and I STILL think of it. constantly.

like beforehand I was neutral to slightly postie on dream and afterwards I had a fullblown awful fictional crush where I would think of him. and I can't tell if I just think he's hot or if he's transition goals or if he just reminds me of my tito. full blown crisis.

so anyway yeah thanks for drawing. single headshot of dream where he has a little bit of facial hair it . permanently altered my brain chemicals

Haha that's awesome, I always wanted Dream to look kinda handsome, if only to push back on how feminine he's usually portrayed. I like giving him stubble a lot lol

[thedemonofcat]

I’ve seen soulmate fics where being rejected by your soulmate makes you very sick.

And that is really unfair. I think the reverse should be true.

Geralt gets sicker and sicker after the mountain. Only his soulmate returning to him will cure him. Geralt doesn’t want to be controlled by destiny, so he stubbornly refuses to find them.

Eskel or someone begs Jaskier to save Geralt. Even though he’s hurt, the bard makes the journey to Kaer Morhen.

He finds Geralt barely breathing. He leans down and kisses the Witcher’s forehead, whispering that he forgave him.

Once he sees that Geralt is breathing easier, Jaskier leaves before the witcher can wake up.

After all, Geralt would surely send him away again. It would be rather silly for them to go through all of this trouble only to have to immediately repeat the experience.

"Jaskier!" Geralt shouted through the trees. The wind was picking up, a storm looming on the horizon. "Jaskier, where are you?" he called again, his voice rough with frustration and worry.

Jaskier—his beautiful, infuriating, perfect soulmate—was out here somewhere, lost in the mountains and forests surrounding Kaer Morhen. And all because Geralt had been too much of a fool to say something sooner.

After what felt like hours of yelling, a faint voice finally reached him.

"Over here, Geralt."

The bard’s voice was smaller than usual, almost meek. Geralt followed the sound and found him sitting against a tree, clutching his ankle. Even in the dim light, he could see the swelling.

"The snow covered the root—I didn't see it," Jaskier murmured, wincing. "I think my leg is broken."

"Let me see," Geralt said, kneeling. Jaskier hesitated before finally letting him touch his leg.

"Good news," Geralt said after a moment, his tone lighter. "It’s not broken. Just a bad sprain. There are plenty of beds at Kaer Morhen where you can rest." He reached to lift Jaskier, only for the bard to shove him away.

"I'm not going back," Jaskier snapped.

"You’ll freeze to death out here," Geralt argued.

"Better than having my heart broken over and over again when you get bored of me," Jaskier shot back, his voice shaking.

Geralt froze. Then, softer this time, he said, "I love you. I'm not going to break your heart." A pause. "Not ever again."

Jaskier turned away. "You love the idea of having a soulmate," he whispered. "You don’t even know me."

What he didn’t see was Geralt moving his fingers.

"Sleep," Geralt murmured, using Axii to lull him into unconsciousness.

As Jaskier’s body went slack, Geralt scooped him up with a sigh, holding him close against the cold.

"I’ll love you," he murmured, pressing his forehead to Jaskier’s temple. "Or any version of you. As long as you’re not frozen."

[toomuchbirth]

Love when people give inspired answers to asks~ A potent story of struggling against the desperate needs of her own body, the conflicting feelings that can come with unintended pregnancy...

Fortunetly, you're about to get the promotion you've been working for for the last 3 years to get. Unfortunately, you're also hiding that you're heavily pregnant with your boss's baby. You hadn't wanted to have sex, hadn't wanted to become a mother. You knew everyone finding out you were having a baby would end your promotion chances, if not get you fired outright rather than give you maternity leave. And that's not even considering your husband finding out you were due any time now with someone else's little drunken accident.

It's a celebratory dinner for your accomplishments, and you're dressed to just, just barely be able to hide your condition. Anyone looking too close or too long, and it'll become obvious you have a bump under this classy holiday sweater. That's not helping the mounting labor pains, however. They're getting so close, so bad. About ten minutes apart, and getting stronger, closer fast...

You know you have a speech soon, the moment they'll announce your promotion. Can you even risk being on that stage in your condition? What do you even do if you can't? How do you keep your husband from finding out you're having a baby?

The Boss’s Baby

[short story - 1269 words, fpreg, clothing birth, public birth]

I readjusted my knitted holiday sweater dress for the umpteenth time, pulling it out and down, trying to stretch the knit so it hung “loosely” over my curves. It was the only item that even remotely covered the swell of my belly, filled with a baby that wasn’t my husbands. He was with me this evening, my husband, sitting proudly at the table smiling about the promotion I was to receive. A very public promotion. 

The company held an annual dinner, recognising the business achievements of the year, but also putting the spotlight on individuals that had gone above and beyond for the company in the preceding twelve months. I’d certainly done that; managing to hide my pregnancy with the boss’s baby these past 40 weeks. But I was also being recognised for my work and would be very publicly announced as the next VP of the company in just a few minutes. 

My belly tightened again, harsh and unforgiving, and it took all my effort to keep my face from grimacing. Not to let out a moan or a groan as all the muscles in my heavy womb contracted and squeezed downwards.

Not now, please not now. I begged to the secret I held inside of my body. 

The timing couldn’t have been worse; this formal dinner was happening right at my due date. Well almost, my due date came and went last week. But still the babe in my belly stayed put, snug in my womb for another week. Until now. 

The pains had started this morning and as much as I willed them to go away - they only got stronger and closer together. Contractions. I was definitely having contractions, I was definitely in labour. But I couldn’t tell anyone. No one even knew I was pregnant. So I was forced to go along with my day even with the ever increasing tightness of my hidden belly. 

My husband noticed the tension in my body as I sat beside him at the large round dinner table, surrounded by colleagues and their partners. I said I was just nervous about my speech, when in fact the baby had jolted down so far that I almost wanted to push. That couldn’t be right. I couldn’t be that far into my labour, surely…. 

I quickly excused myself to the bathroom, trying not to waddle with the baby rammed deep in my pelvis. My waters broke as soon as I locked the door of the cubicle, running down my tights and into my stilettos. Fuck. My palms pressed against the door, my legs widened instinctively, and I groaned a deep primal noise as the next contraction pressed aggressively through my body. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I really wanted to push. It felt as if my hips were being snapped apart, the baby pressing down, right against my cervix. My hips sank down, my knees bending into a half-squat as I braced against the cubicle door. I couldn’t have this baby now... My boss was here, my husband was here…. I was about to become Vice President of the company. I panted through the urge and mercifully the contraction ended. 

I should have examined myself, checked my dilation, but the idea of taking my tights off seemed too much effort. And if I was being honest, I didn’t want to know. This baby simply had to stay put. I would make it to the announcement, do my speech, and disappear discreetly afterwards. My husband would just think I’d got caught talking work with colleagues. 

So I wiped my tights of fluids, shook out my shoes, and forced my legs together. And slowly I made it back to the table.  

I didn’t have time to sit back down, to sit beside my husband who was looking at me so proudly, as I was being immediately ushered to the side of the stage. My boss was behind the podium, dressed in his sharp designer suit, making a glowing speech about my achievements at the company. How I had worked hard and worked my way up the ranks. But I could barely hear what else he said when the next contraction struck. My body nearly doubled over with the force of it, my hand flew out and I leaned against the wall and I panted under my breath. Oh shit. The pressure, the urgency, the sheer weight of the head on my cervix was unbearable. I couldn’t stop myself from pushing. Right there beside the stage as my boss rattled off all my impressive achievements. And then he turned to me, smiling, unaware I was trying not to give birth to his baby, and he called me up on stage. 

The bright lights were scorching on my sweaty and sensitive skin, my jumper dress loose but aggravating every one of my senses. I could barely keep my legs together as I stepped on the stage and immediately I gripped on to the podium to stop myself from doubling over. Hidden behind the wooden plinth my boss smacked my arse with a wink, a sign of his congratulations. I could have screamed. 

My words were forced and strained as I began my speech, my body was trembling with the effort of not giving birth. The white knuckles of my fingers on the podium glowed under the spotlight. The baby was slipping down! I could feel it. I wasn’t pushing, but it was moving anyway. My body was automatically doing the work for me, despite my wishes. I couldn’t help the grunt that slipped from my mouth into the microphone, as I involuntarily pushed. Bearing down and bringing the head to my entrance, bulging into my underwear beneath my loose fitting jumper dress. 

No…. Don’t push…. I begged my body but instead my legs widened and my muscles pushed again. My husband’s eyes were looking at me curiously, knowing something was wrong. Whereas my boss was too self-absorbed to notice anything other than his face on the screens that were displaying both of us on stage to the packed conference hall. 

I opened my mouth to resume my speech, but no sound came out. My hand disappeared from the podium and flew between my legs, feeling the curve of the head that was starting to emerge. I clamped my palm over my tights and underwear trying to keep the baby from coming out, but my body gave another deep and grunty push. People were starting to murmur, I could hear the sea of the crowd whispering about what was happening. I wanted to leave, to get off the stage, to get this damn baby out of my body. But I couldn’t move. I couldn’t take my hand off the podium, and I daren’t take the other off of my crotch. The pressure was too much, my vision swirling from the pain as the head stretched me wider and wider and wider. I sank to my knees, disappearing beneath the wooden podium as I pushed and pushed and pushed, and the head burst out of me into my underwear. 

My boss pulled me up from my armpits, whispering angrily in my ear - What’s wrong with you?! 

My legs were trembling, like a newborn deer, wide and unsteady. I had one hand holding the swell of my jumper dress, the other cradling the head of my illegitimate child as it brushed against the skin of my inner thighs. 

“I’m… having… a baby…..nnnnghhhhh-!!” I growled as I pushed again, uncontrollably. And the whole room gasped, every word from my lips caught on the microphone and echoed loudly around the room. 

[spoopdeedoop]

what are your favorite c!Ranboo headcanons?

goodness idkkk idk there are so many interpretations of cranboo that i loveee….

i guess i like the ranboo w glasses one a lot . and i like thinking that they write poetry. and i was discussing this in a discord server that also i think that they mutter to themself in enderian sometimes and tommy can understand it because tommy just has a knack for learning and understanding languages and is therefore subject to stuff like this

cranboo weird weird weird weird weird little freak. idk

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

My pookie🥺

Oh my gosh, my heart. 💔

[mcytshipsandmore]

Okay there’s this mumbojumbo ship bracket and one of the shipps was hillspoon (joehills x mumbo)

And joehills you iconic beast

Now i want to see more spoonhills because that ship is actuslly fire

@/mumbojumboshipbrackets

WHEEZE

Its always a good day when the CCs decide to troll the audience. I think they get a good laugh out of it.

Also yes, spoonhills sounds amazing

-🍫

[kamuch-kommando]

Does your poseidon need a chewtoy or smt I'm right here

Oh well. Have fun in the underworld now?

Both were tasty in the end though

[pigeonstab]

Hey is this guy yours? He showed up in my cupboards looking for sauce

(I wanted to draw Dance bitty so you don't have to lol ignore how wonky this looks) (also hiiiiii)

My boi, that is so cute thank you Charliee T T oughhh liddol guy

Nightmare's like 'this one's not mine' lolll, good luck moving him hehe ughhhh that is so sweet

[carlyraejepsans]

Were around the same age, and i lowkey have a slight inferiority complex to you, i don't know why, you just seem to know a lot of things a lot more thoroughly then i do, and i know i can do research and put in the work to get to where you are in those subjects, but i'm also very lazy and very tired, so i'll probably never up doing so, i also respect the hell out of you though, and your the one of the main reasons i check this site so often, thank you for existing, real g shit.

easy fix, just remember at any time any day i am bullshitting everything 24/7 and also very likely lying. half of the confidence you see in me is literally just me pretending i know what what the fuck I'm doing, so that hopefully one day i actually believe that. my actual genuine "knowledge" does not extend much beyond art and trivia and analysis of a random 10yo indie rpg i ASSURE you, you very likely have your life together better than me. now chin up. it's not nice to see people using their idealized image of you to beat themselves down. fake it till you make it💪

[thedemonofcat]

After the mountain, Jaskier is called home to fulfil his duty to his family and marry.

Most of Jaskier's life had already gone up in flames, so why not?

When he returns home, he learns that he is marrying for the fae side of his family. They had secured a deal with a powerful, if persecuted race.

The witchers.

His fiance?

None other than Geralt of Rivia.

Fuck his life.

Geralt had never seen Jaskier without the glamour the bard always wore. Don’t get him wrong—he had always known Jaskier was Fae. No ordinary human smelled like a fresh summer morning no matter the season.

But seeing Jaskier as he truly was? That was something else entirely. His once brown hair now shimmered with golden highlights, his ears tapered into graceful points, and his eyes gleamed with a blue so deep it could rival the sky. But the most striking of all were the wings.

“They don’t work,” Jaskier said, pulling Geralt from his thoughts. The two of them were in Jaskier’s bedroom—though, at this point, it had become Geralt’s as well. “I see you staring. My wings don’t work.”

“I’m sorry,” Geralt said, unsure of what else to offer. “Did something happen?”

“Nope. They never have,” Jaskier replied with a shrug. “A Fae born without the ability to fly. Can’t even do the one thing my kind is meant for. I guess you were right to call me a shit-shoveler.” He laughed, but it was hollow, brittle.

Geralt stepped closer. “I think you’re wonderful,” he whispered.