#dearest of mutuals

[twospiritstooprideful]

Gender, Sexuality, Romantic Attraction Tagging Game

How do: You put your gender, sexuality, and romantic attraction down with a line break between them—but, here's the catch, don't use any labels! So, for example, this, "Gender? Agender Sexuality? Lesbian Romantic Attraction? Demiromantic" would be this: "Gender? I hardly know 'er! Sexuality? Girl-kisser Romantic Attraction? My friends, I think"

So, here's mine!

Gender? Yours, fool Sexuality? Yes Romantic Attraction? Only if I know you well enough

TAGS (under the cut, and don't feel obligated to do it!) (and obviously those who I have not tagged can participate too)

@bassguitarinablackt-shirt @gloriousvermin @midnight-thedyke @littlebookworm69 @runwiththerain @cybercerealkiller @ishouldsleepbut @ssavinggrace @i-love-your-father @us-costco-official @scifikode @i-am-an-arson-enthusiast

[howling-medic]

Gods, I adore your Aralas! So sweet, so fluffy! And I need the fluff after today on my side of the pond

What a wonderful little except. I cannot wait to read the whole piece ❤️

🌈 for the ask game?

🌈 Share something soft/fluffy from your WIP.

There’s no water in reach, and Aragorn’s mouth is beginning to become uncomfortable, so he begins to try and shift out of the bed to fetch some. Almost immediately a hand shoots out to grab his waist, although Legolas does a remarkable job of pretending to be asleep after. The fact the prince still has his eyes closed is enough to make Aragorn laugh, and he leans in slightly closer so he only has to whisper to Legolas (the elf’s hearing sometimes makes it painful after drinking), “Please let me go, my love.”

Legolas mumbles something that Aragorn can’t quite understand into the pillow, mainly because his mouth is pressed against the sheets but also because Legolas mutters in nonsensical elvish. The words are Sindarian but, as Aragorn puts it together in his mind, the grammatical structure is Westron. Keeping the volume, Aragorn asks again, “What was that?”

“I don’t want you to go.” Legolas’ voice is deeper and raspy with sleep, but to enunciate he’s shuffled slightly so that he’s facing Aragorn. His eyes open, sleepy but full of love, and the elf moves again to fully cuddle up to Aragorn, “Stay with me, please.”

“My mouth is dry,” Aragorn protests, but there isn’t much heat to it.

“We didn’t drink that much, did we?” Legolas’ confusion comes mostly from being barely awake, although he’s just confused enough to make Aragorn slightly worried. Arms envelop him to hug him properly, “We can stay here, anyway.”

Every muscle in Aragorn’s body wants to melt into the elven embrace, but if he does he won’t come out. Stretching, he tries to free himself from the grip and this time groans as his muscles begin to protest. They only feel slightly sore, with some areas protesting more than others. He doesn’t have it in him to try and pull away a second time, so he stays in Legolas’ arms. 

Here you go, my friend! Enjoy fluff about two characters you know very little about, with a ship I have no idea if you care for <3 (original ask game)

[jessamine-rose]

*cries* I thought I would be done with Dainsleif after writing Phantom Pain but no…….I still have Dainsleif x Demon! Reader brainrot orz

A YouTube playlist, Dainsleif art in my Twitter likes, an IG folder of fashion inspo for Demon! Reader, a drawing of Demon! Reader, a cameo in another AU, a fcking WIP for Househusband! Dainsleif—WHEN WILL IT END ( ´△｀)

[pangolinsandnewts]

Oh hey look a comic (lowest effort one yet! I am so overwhelmed rn this is all I can do)

Anyways. Timeline wise this is like. The first comic. All the ninja know each other's identities at this point except Lloyd (I love me angsty identity reveals) and Morro is the brand new transfer student so he doesn't know anyone. Thank goodness there's some normal people in this group- oh wait it's Harumi and E. Nevermind.

First-- Previous-- Next

[howling-medic]

I know I already messaged you about this, but holy shit. I am still utterly flabbergasted this. I just. Wow. Thank you doesn't even come close to conveying how much your words mean to me.

I still think about how your scenarios broke my writer's block of literal years. So for you, my dear Star, of everyone on this site to write this about my work. I don't know if I know the words necessary to convey how deeply I moved I am.

I will cherish this for ages.

Thank you.

All that being said.... maybe, I could do a better job of fluff and chaos. Maybe.

And I know I could have made you cry. This was actually from a Hurtcember challenge. I chose to rein it in and lean into a bit of chaos. I have another angsty Aragorn piece in my WIPs and a slightly soul crushing Boromir piece. I have plenty of pieces to bring the tears.

However, I could, just maybe, lean further into the chaos of this piece and write about this squire losing his mind down at the practice field, maybe a little comedy would be a good change of pace. Give myself a slightly better defense.

Thank you again. So much. For everything.

Conduct Unbecoming

A/N: In which the chaotic High King of the Reunited Realm cannot be bothered to care about what is deemed proper because being King does not make him less of a soldier. I promised y'all something not angsty, so here's some chaos with a side of feels.

T/W: I honestly don't think there are any? For once? Maybe scars?

“Conduct truly unbecoming of a king!” Aragorn’s chief valet declared as he strode from the practice fields back to his chambers to wash and dress for the day. The height of summer had finally arrived in Minas Tirith and even dawn was sweltering. Somewhere between his daily ride on Roheryn and an impromptu sparring match with a few of the remaining D��nedain in the city, which had turned into a chance for all the men to challenge their new king to spar, Aragorn did away with his shirt. It had long since ceased to provide any useful coverage, and it clung uncomfortably to his skin. Shedding the nuisance of a garment seemed only logical - and rather a non-issue.

“Many of those men I have known for longer than you have been alive. A handful of them I have known for longer than your father has been alive.” Aragorn laughed darkly as he spoke. “A good portion of the men on those training fields are men with whom I marched on the Black Gates. I can guarantee you all of that group have seen me at least in that state of disrobement given that we did try to bathe while we marched, and often did so at the same time. The others have seen other men without shirts on - or missing more than just shirts. I assure you,” Aragorn explained half mockingly, half playfully with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “Do you forget that before I was crowned King I was a Ranger? And rode with the Rohirrim? Served with this city’s army?”

“Well, I - no, my lord. I have not forgotten,” the young man answered, but he was not dissuaded from his course. “It is only, sire, that it is unbecoming of a leader to bear so much skin.”

Aragorn halted in the middle of a garden path, shirt in hand, with his torso visible to any who walked through the Royal Gardens. Several lords and ladies stopped and stared. “And, why, pray tell, is that?” Aragorn asked, arms outstretched. Long, snaking scars wove their way across his back with matching slash marks across his chest. Dots and dashes punctuated his body across his arms. After only two months since Aragorn rode back to his realm victorious, a number of scars still shone red against his pale flesh, some bruises had yet to fully fade - still an ugly shade of yellow starkly contrasting the pale skin of Aragorn’s torso. The marks created a road map of the battles he had fought and the wounds he had suffered for this land, for his people. The marks stayed hidden beneath layers of fabric in court, only hinted at by the scars upon his knuckles and calluses on his hands.   

“Well, because -” the young man began while he visibly fighting the urge to follow each line and trace the pattern of scars and bruises with his eyes. Time and time again Aragorn watched his valet’s eyes bounce between his scars and his face. Aragorn stepped closer to speak quietly enough that only the valet could hear. 

“Is it because a King should be unmarred? His skin should be pristine, or if it not be so, then he should remain covered?” The mirth had drained from his tone, and the King’s eyes did not waver from the young man’s.

“I never -” and he broke off with a sigh, “yes, my lord.” Aragorn nodded and strode away. He did not wait for his valet to catch up.

Back in his quarters, Aragorn waited. He stood just inside the door. His expression was entirely neutral. There was no heat in his gaze, no tension rested in his shoulders, his jaw was not clenched. He still wore no shirt. The valet opened the door, and Aragorn gestured him inside. “Tell me,” he said conversationally. “Do my scars make you uncomfortable?”

“Does it matter?” the valet asked stiffly.

“If you mean should you answer yes, could I change anything about them? No, nor would I.” While Aragorn spoke, the valet began to gather his king’s clothing for the day. Aragorn sat and watched, talking on with his fingers steepled, tapping them idly. “If you mean should you answer yes, will it change my behavior? Likely not. However, your answer matters because it helps me to understand, not just you, but the rest of my citizens.”

The valet pressed his lips into a thin line, took a breath and turned to face King Elessar, who was still sitting topless before the windows looking out on the gardens. “Yes. They make me uncomfortable. A ruler should not display his defeats, nor should he present himself in such a state of disarray as to parade about without his shirt.”

“Before we continue, answer this: did my soldiers seem uncomfortable with my lack of shirt or my scars?”

“I suppose not,” the valet answered flatly.

“Precisely, they were not because, whether visible or not based upon the amount of clothing they wore, nearly every single one of them has their own.”

“But they are not -” the valet was cut off by Aragorn raising a hand to silence him.

“I am no different than they are. I am Dúnedan, Ranger of the North, first and foremost. Before I am King Elessar, I am a soldier. I will march out with my troops until I can no longer do so. Therefore, I will bear my scars visibly when I train should the weather and my comfort dictate. All can look upon their King as a man and see how he came to sit upon the throne.” 

When Aragorn fell silent, he strode to his wardrobe and pulled from it the green leather jacket and battered old boots. Then he found a plain shirt and breeches - the oldest and most threadbare he had - and walked to his washroom to bathe and dress for the day. He wore no crown that day. Upon his brow rested the Star of Elendil, and he wore a simple gray cloak upon which the Star of the Dúnedain sat beside the Elfstone.

[winterchimez]

tag game! 🎮

tagged by: @sungbeam @zzoguri (my loves 🥰🫶🏻)

you’re starring in a movie with the last person saved in your camera roll and the last song you listened to is the title. who/what is it?

AHDKEJEJ LISTEN. I HAVE A REASONABLE EXPLANATION ON WHY I SAVED DESPACITO CHANGMIN 😔😔😔 and paired with monster????? hell yes a dark angsty sexc changmin ✨

tagging: @cupidjyu @hanniluvi @stealanity @invuwrld @daisyvisions @heemingyu @kinouuu @etherealcheol-mp3 @justalildumpling

[pixiecaps]

btw if yall want spanish songs that r more latin rock indie and shit then there ya go

[altarofthedeep]

so I hit 400 followers a while back and was too busy to do anything for it so have this for now please 🥺

just need some hands on my hips to complete the look

[emma-d-klutz]

Proposal: in the next mainstream Sherlock Holmes adaptation, Watson is the one with the big ego

"This is Sherlock Holmes and his assistant, Watson."

"Haha, assistant. .......Assistant? I'll have you know I have an M.D., a PhD, OF-3 clearance, a CWA Gold Dagger for internationally bestselling creative nonfiction, and a gun."

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

hi, I thought you might want to know about this

https://twitter.com/pakhnokh_art/status/1598704497340993536?t=x44ajllMwWZmlHMS7OyQ-Q&s=19

I’m absolutely outraged. The high retweet/like count implies OP doesn’t intend to go through with it. What cowardice. I’ll do it for free.

[howling-medic]

I adore every single piece of this. Every. Single. Piece. But! “Well, If I am to lose you to someone - I am glad it is to Boromir.” STAR! Holy shit, that is stunning. Impeccable. 10/10. Ugh, my heart. I cannot wait to read any and all of this fic. I can already tell it’s going to break my heart and put it back together again time after time.

Oh my god. I want to simply send every emoji from the ask game.

If it’s ok, I’m going to send a few:

⛅️💧⛈️

- 🚑

Aww, thanks. I'm sure if I searched through my WIPS for long enough I could come up with some things. In this process, I discovered how little I have written down for one of my main (eventual) longfics, how many plans I have with no many words, and many wips that haven't seen sunlight for many moons. Some of them are here :

🌤️Share your favorite piece of dialogue from your WIP.

I have rather a large amount of wips, and far too much dialogue between them. Is this the best I've written? Probably not. Is this even my main fandom? No. Is this my most recent wip and something I'm proud of because I struggle with writing banter? Yes.

"I may yet forgive you," Astarion quips, "Depending on why you've spent so long admiring me."

"Admiring you?" Gale echoes, at first looking confused before realising Astarion's implications, "I assure you, it's simply-"

"Academic curiosity." Both of them say at the same time, Astarion grinning. He keeps the smile on his face as he asks, "But I'm in a generous mood today, what do you desperately want to ask me?"

"It's nothing." Gale insists again, "I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable."

"We've both been honest with each other about our afflictions," Astarion says it so casually that Gale almost wonders if they're talking about the same problems. "Besides, if I had been offended by your asking I doubt I would have given you enough information to write a book."

Gale makes a doubting noise, "Perhaps a brochure, a research paper."

"A short book?" Astarion asks.

"Perhaps not even a research paper," Gale muses. "I'd only have one source, after all."

"Well, ask what you want too." Astarion gestures to himself, "I am an open book."

"I was..." Gale seems apprehensive still, "Wondering about your mouth."

Astarion's eyes shine at the opportunity of an innuendo, before Gale talks over him, "Wait- your fangs, specifically."

"My fangs?" Almost absentmindedly, Astarion runs his tongue across his fangs. "It's an uncommon kink, but I'd be more than-"

"Academically wondering."

"I thought I wasn't even enough for a book." There's a fake hurt in his tone, and an element of teasing.

"Well, you can help support my hypothesis," Gale says amicably.

"Very well." Astarion smiles larger than he usually does, and for some reason Gale doesn't even interpret the show of fangs as threatening. But as- and then Astarion speaks, "What does our wizard need?"

🌩️ Share something funny/cracky from your WIP.

The humour is sprinkled throughout my cracky-est WIP, so I shall give a summary. We have the lovely Hawthorne finding a weirdly cheap place to rent. Unfortunately, students don't have too much choice.

Queue a fic's worth of shenanigans featuring eldritch-horror Mog, horribly confused Hawthorn, and a least seven times he's accidentally locked himself in the room with her and they've both been horrified about it. (it's nevermoor fandom for the people who inevitably won't get it)

💧Share something romantic/hot from your WIP, or just something sweet if it's gen.

This is a small extract from a fic I hope to become my magnum opus, that exists largely in my head. Have one of the few scenes that is written down - and will almost certainly change once it is published.

“Thank you.” The pause comes. “But my heart already belongs to another.”

“I thought you had no partner?” There’s some disappointment in Éowyn’s tone, and now a confused inflection for her.

“I do not. And what I have is not a longing I have shared with many, you would be right to assume there is no one in my life.”

“And you have not confessed? Most women have hopes of a man like you; I cannot see a lady who you knew well turning down your advances.”

“You may be overestimating, my lady.” Aranuir laughs, small but lighter than he has been for most of the conversation. His gaze lingers on Éowyn for a second, as if debating something in his mind. “Although even if your words are true… I am not convinced they would be helpful.”

What Aranuir has just said - has just admitted - hangs in the air as Éowyn processes them. This time minds go through her head, and a name briefly on her lips before she looks up at him. As if asking permission for the words, the writing on his heart, to finally be acknowledged and spoken aloud. A silent understanding passes between them, and then she straightens. Smiling, if only a little. “Well, if I am to lose you to someone - I am glad that it is to Boromir.”

I'm sure I have more snippets for more emojis if you're inclined, and thanks so much for sending them in! Hope you enjoyed the little snippets <3

original ask game

[yaekiss]

꩜ Room Content: GN! Reader x GN! Yan! Sydney the Faithful, no gendered terms used for reader or Sydney, nsfw bulleted point towards the end where reader tops and chokes Sydney, unhealthy relationship from Sydney, worshipping, lmk if I missed out anything ! ꩜ A/N: This is so all over the place my bad LOL anyways some quick thoughts on how yan!Sydney the Faithful would play out, I also have thoughts about how it'd be like once the relationship has corrupted Sydney into their Fallen development but those r thoughts for another day orz...

- Started out as something harmless and cute, you spent so much time with them and you're one of the nicest people they've met in school so far, you’re probably their first crush ever !

- And when you reciprocate their love confession, those euphoric firework feelings never really fizzle out

- As your relationship progresses, you become all they can think about, be it while stamping the overdue books during their morning library counter duties or during mass

- Their eyes wander to where you’re seated at the end of the pew, next to some other initiate. Maybe you’re talking to them, maybe you’re just quietly listening to Jordan, but neither stop a strange new emotion from bubbling up in them

- When they see Jordan push the bread into your mouth, something in them twists. They’re not sure if they want to be the one to gingerly press the bread onto your tongue or if they want you to be the one to do the same to them

- If you took Jordan’s place, would they be able to hold back from enveloping your fingers in their mouth? To stop themselves from savouring you as if you were holier than anything in the temple itself? Sydney has to shake to clear away the thoughts, which catches your eye and, heavens above, what wouldn’t they do to keep your gaze upon them for a second more?

- Also thinking about a Devotion meter that serves as something like Kylar's Jealousy meter

- But unlike Kylar, they're more self-assured in your love for them. If anything, the more you remain steadfast in your relationship with them when others try to steal your attention away, the faster their devotion accumulates. (It’ll be even worse if you had an angel transformation, what’s stopping them from believing you should be worshipped?) 

- Both Sirris and Sydney know about your living circumstances so it's not terribly difficult to convince their parent to let you stay over for a night or two when they come to pick Sydney up at the temple. Besides, Danube street and the orphanage are so close to each other, it’ll be no trouble at all!

- And if they take your hand into their clasped ones in the middle of the night, knelt at the edge of the bed while you’re asleep, feverishly praying for salvation for the both of you, surely you wouldn’t mind

- They find themselves rubbing at their holy pendant a lot more these days when they think about you. (When their thoughts stray into more inappropriate unholy territories, they fantasise about you wrapping the cord of their pendant around your hand to use it as leverage while you pound into them, the sensation of being choked by you might just send them to heaven ♡)

- Perhaps they need to bring you to the prayer room to fully show how much they need to worship you + + Devotion

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

[starakex]

That rhyme was SHIT!

[battery-enthusiast]

1. goes on tumblr

2. sees one million reblogs of a post i've never seen in my life

3. sees it's reblogged by battery enthusiast

4. leaves tumblr forever/j

HELP......yeah mb,,

i honestly don't even know which post it'd be, i do that crap way too often

anyways

[twospiritstooprideful]

what VPN do you use and how do you pirate spotify?

okay so I use nordvpn (I just like it) but if you don't wanna pay, proton vpn is a good secondary—it's a freemium-based model, but the free version is just fine.

Next, I used this https://apkmody.io/apps/spotify-premium-mod-apk to pirate spotify premium.

You wanna uninstall spotify, and download this apk. It works exactly the same as spotify premium. It only works for androids, so ios users are kinda fucked

Hope this helps!

[mackthecheese]

MUTUALS! HELP ME MAKE A CHARACTER SO I CAN FULLY KICK THIS ART BLOCK IN THE ASS

Give me a character that reminds you of me!