#easter innit

[mcmuppet]

ask and you shall receive @jamminvroomvroom

my reaction to the notif of lando's post with his niece yesterday

as i'm playing with my niece

[latenightsimping]

So excited to carry on The Edge and explore mental health topics, actually. It's gonna be a scathing take on psych wards and how some of the professionals there are about as useful as an ashtray on a motorbike. No I'm not using my own gripes what are you talking about 👁👁

[tuiyla]

"you cannot put Sarah Michelle Gellar in purple, do the lighting in a way that makes her hair look reddish and not expect me to think of Daphne Blake" omg can you make a gifset then pleeease, I don't think I ever saw a Buffy/Daphne one 🙏 It might get a decent number of notes since the BTVS fandom is more active than the Glee fandom lol

Haha well no promises at all Anon, I'm taking a bit of a break from giffing even Glee atm but maybe I'll do that. For those purposes, the ep I was thinking of is S2E12.

I rewatched the Scooby Doo films early last year IIRC but I'd have to look through again to find good shots of Daphne. That's a sacrifice I'm willing to make.

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

DISCOPUNK - Octobie Week #3 - Slice of Life

Well, that's one way to say 'thank you'. | Its tea time, innit. (Hobie x DiscoSpider Diane)

A.N: This was SO SO fun to draw and I'm really happy with how it came out :') - Also, I hid a lot of personal fanon-lore in this drawing so, here's some easter eggs below! As always, huge thanks to @the-kr8tor!

Easter Eggs:

Hobie lives on a boat with his lovely stray boatcats.

Hobie is proudly Jamaican (in my head).

His favorite colour is Green, though only Diane knows that.

Hobie didn't tell her, but somehow she managed to figure it out on her own.

Someone asked him, but before he could answer, she simply said 'Green'.

When he later asked her how she'd known, Diane told him it was obvious.

His carpet was green, and so was his bonnet, and his favorite shirt - to her it just made sense.

He calls her Duchess, since their first night out.

Diane sleeps with her guitar pick necklace on her left wrist.

She says she's afraid if she wears it to bed, it'll choke her to death in her sleep.

Hobie tells her that's not possible - considering she's superhuman. Green Goblin could hardly choke her out if he wanted to.

She doesn't believe him. She's 'not taking no chances'.

Diane only sleeps in high quality pastel pajama sets - with fuzzy socks to match. Hobie is the type of guy to turn any shirt into a 'sleep shirt' if he owns it long enough.

Diane likes her nails long, acrylic, and consistently manicured.

Hobie could never. After raiding Diane's extensive varnish collection, he paints every finger a different color. Sure, he could pick one. That's no fun, though!

When Hobie is enamored - or near Diane - his outline with turn her favorite color, pink!

Not only that, when Hobie's being a loverboy, pink origami hearts may start fluttering around his head - literally.

Diane knows Hobie's tea order by heart.

Another thing she'd learned by sheer observation.

Irish Breakfast tea, not British. One sugar, not too sweet, with the bag steeped a little too long.

He likes it 'her-coloured' - tea with just enough milk to match the tone of her skin. Anymore makes it taste 'like rubbish', in his opinion.

Hobie endorses tax evasion.

Happy Octobie Week #3!

Remember, if you have a spidersona, you can do whatever you want forever <3

BYE.

[marketfreshfics]

Like Rabbits | Garreth x f!MC

Header image: @newbienewness ✦ 4327 words ✦ NSFW content (MDNI), aged-up characters, unnamed female MC (no use of y/n), alcohol consumption, admission of feelings/slight proposition, masturbation, spanking, p in v, light dom/sub elements ✦ Plot? What plot? This was honest to god just an excuse to write about Garreth in a rabbit costume ✦ Read it below the cut or on AO3

Easter festivities were a rarity at Hogwarts, yet when an opportunity for revelry arose, the seventh-years seized it with unbridled enthusiasm.

For generations, a pact among students governed the hosting duties on such occasions. The house with the fewest points bore the responsibility (and, by consequence, the aftermath) of throwing the celebration. Slytherin, enduring a dismal streak, found themselves reluctantly poised to shoulder the burden once more, the third time not necessarily the charm. As the soon-to-be graduates gathered amidst their diminished house, they sampled the exotic hors d'oeuvres with subdued chatter, their ranks thin and their spirits somewhat subdued, shooing a curious first year who had risen from bed to visit the loo.

You couldn't help but notice the lacklustre effort put forth, evident in the half-hearted swirling of your drink and the telltale lines of boredom etched upon your brow. Natsai, however, who displayed a downright lackadaisical disinterest, was already poised to depart for the evening. "I do think the Slytherins should dedicate more focus to their house standings to avoid committing another crime such as this party."

A soft chuckle escaped your lips in response, prompting an eye-roll from Imelda as she fished a hair from her drink. "Blame Sallow, we’re still recovering from his little bridge stunt."

The memory evoked a ripple of amusement; the viaduct bridge, unimposing as ever one moment, became a terrifying tangle of devil’s snare that multiplied out of control, requiring several days' worth of Confringo to eradicate.

"I’ll let you know I’m still working through detention for that." Sebastian, the culprit in question, shot a wry grin as his classmates riled with snickers, much to his chagrin. "I was only practicing the Geminio charm for Ronen’s assignment! At his recommendation, mind you, I performed it outside on a plant! I swear, Professor Weasley was just trying to-"

"Did someone mention Weasley?"

Heads swivelled towards the echo of an announced arrival from the staircase, and before questions and curiosities could be posted, Garreth Weasley sauntered down the spiral steps wearing a riot of pink cotton with two lapin ears sprouting from his crown. The seventh-years all hollered and laughed at the sight, save for Leander, who appeared wholly unamused by his fellow Gryffindor’s getup. "The bloody hell, Garreth?"

"What?" He grinned at the tall redhead. "Surely we couldn't have a proper Easter festivity without a rabbit present? Where’s the fun in that?"

Leander's jab echoed into the rim of his goblet before he took a sip. "Is that what’s been stuffed under your bedframe for the past month? You look ridiculous."

Undeterred, Garreth opted instead to, well, air his abundance of comfort. "Yes, but I feel incredible. Quite breezy down here, innit?"

Spiked cider sputtered from Sebastian then, dribbling down his chin. "Are you wearing anything under that poacher’s pelt?"

"Isn’t my smile enough for you, Sallow?"

Yet, despite yourself, your curiosity persisted, occasionally wandering to the vicinity of his lap. Heat rose to your cheeks, unrelated to the effects of alcohol, as you observed the subtle jostle there. It was a wager, you thought, with a flush of embarrassment tinting your cheeks, that Garreth Weasley remained, by all accounts, an honest man.

"What even is this fabric?" Natsai protested, pinching the fold of fluff near her housemate’s bicep. "It appears to be rather flammable."

"Now that would provide ample entertainment for the evening." Ominis chimed in nearby, his attention still fixed on his wand-led readings, seemingly uninterested in the fraternization.

"One at a time, darlings." Garreth, the ever-enthusiastic lion, swung a wicker-weave basket to and fro, reminiscent of some fictional harbinger of joy. Nestled within the dried grass padding were several small bottles of firewhisky, a smattering of cauldron cakes, and various other treats from Honeydukes. "I knew the Slytherins were in desperate need of a Pepperup, so I've come to spread the merriment. Snakes enjoy chocolate frogs, don't they?"

"I thought snakes typically ate rabbits," Imelda quipped, raising an eyebrow.

Garreth didn't miss a beat in his response to her jest. "If I were none the wiser, Reyes, I'd wager you'd like to take a hop around my carrot—"

A muttered expletive signalled the departure of the quidditch captain, leaving behind a chorus of laughter.

You found yourself enthusiastically joining in, relishing the unexpected amusement of the evening. As the crowd dispersed, you approached Garreth to select a treat of your own.

"Happy Easter, beautiful." Garreth's voice dipped low, laced with a suggestive tone that he often employed in your company. "Care to take a seat on the Easter bunny's lap and tell me what you want to find in your basket tomorrow morning?"

"That's Santa Claus," you teased in return.

"My mistake."

The flirtations between Garreth and yourself had become somewhat of a tradition throughout your Hogwarts enrollment, though they never progressed beyond playful banter. Here and now, with alcohol’s nack for unbarring inhibitions, the thought of advancing motions with the cheeky Gryffindor didn’t seem like such an unreachable feat.

"You seem rather warm in that outfit," you observed, noting the slight sheen above his brow.

Garreth chuckled. "It's rather steamy in here, indeed. But not to worry, I can… ventilate if needed." Handing you a small package of honeycomb with a coy smirk, he added, "Here, I think you'll enjoy this one."

Before you could inquire further, Garreth was already moving through the lively crowd, intent on distributing more sweets and cheers. With a huff of amusement, you tore into the package of honeycomb, only to notice some writing on the pleat of the wrapper.

'Do you know what rabbits are known for? I think we could do it better. Tell me when you’re ready, and we can hop off for the night.'

The implications hit you like lightning.

Copious procreation.

Flammable or not, your gaze practically burned through the back of Garreth's fluffy pink ensemble as he disappeared into the throng of students.

---

While the evening bled into night, even with the bolstering presence of libations coursing through your veins, the mere idea of approaching Garreth at the night's end had your insides all tangled. Harmless flirtations aside, this was a full-on proposition. What if the request was meant for someone else?

Then again, he’d deliberately dedicated the honeycomb to you…

---

Somewhere between a refilled goblet and the honeycomb wrapper now tucked into your brazier like some love letter from a sweetheart posted overseas, your prior suspicions of Garreth’s costume being rather warm were confirmed. The redhead retracted an arm inside the suit, while the other unzipped the front to his navel, exposing his bare chest as he tied the sleeves around his hips.

At that moment, propriety yielded to fascination, and any pretense of restraint evaporated as you found yourself captivated by the contours of his soft yet sculpted physique. A twinge of envy stirred within you, brought on by the admiring glances of the two Hufflepuff witches directed his way from the sidelines.

Garreth leaned against the wall, a slight trickle of sweat central to his chest, freckles all flushed from alcohol and flirtations, and seeing the wizard looking entirely dishevelled in his buzzed state did something truly wonderful for your inhibitions. Downing the rest of your pep talk, you crossed the common room, approached him near the enchanted piano, and promptly cupped a hand to his ear.

"I’m ready to… hop off, for the night." You whispered, the heat carried with it curling into the shell of cartilage.

"Yeah?" Garreth’s grin settled into a keen sort of coy, and his gaze went all honed-in and confident, leaning into you with some additional insinuations in those glassy greens of his. "Sure you don’t want to linger a bit longer in this charming mildew?"

His stray dig was not lost on Sebastian, who promptly threw Garreth a pointed warning without threat behind it, bopping an ear of his fuzzy getup.

"Settle down, Sallow," Garreth chortled, relieving his cup of its contents before boldly taking your hand. “We know the snakes always host the most splendid of shindigs.”

A chorus of wolf-whistles heralded your departure, along with someone’s award-winning remark about calling Garreth ‘Thumper.’

Down the adjacent hallway you went, past another couple that was long since lip-locked, and the firewhisky fuzz in you sought the very same. At the end of the hallway that connected to the Slytherin dormitories, coincidentally located at the intersection of friendship and something more, you shoved Garreth against the wall and claimed that magical mouth of his with your own.

For all the smart comments, the witty banter, the years of flirtations that stacked the deck and colored your cheeks, Garreth melted against you, a mess of vulnerability and desire. His body responded eagerly, exploring newfound territories with a hunger born of longing. Eventually, his body caught up to the priority of the situation, wrapping both arms around you with eager motions and traveling to all the locations he’d only dreamt of visiting before.

You were moving then—perhaps another student was evicting you from the open area, nudged aptly to ‘get a room’—but at one point or another, between lips, between moans, and those magical, heated renditions of your name, you found yourselves in a vacant dormitory.

"Who’s room is this?" You pondered breathlessly.

Garreth didn’t seem to give two shits as you all but crashed into the bedroom, nearly toppling an oil lamp, sending it teetering on its pegs as you collided with a bedpost. "Don’t know, don't care."

And that conversation promptly died in between your mouths, somewhere in the tangle of your tongues, as Garreth captured your wrists, holding them above your head as he trailed kisses along your throat. Plush, pink lips planted sweet kisses, while the scuff of end-of-day stubble bit friction in their wake.

"Garreth," You murmured with a shallow draw of breath. "You… you fancy me?"

"Oh, we’re well past fancying, love." His tone dipped back into devious territory, the same place where feelings like desire and longing and, goodness, arousal held court. “I’m onto the craving stages of our little tryst, myself. And right now… I need you.”

In response to his confession, your leg instinctively hitched over his hip, eliciting a low groan as he captured his bottom lip between teeth, a rewarding gesture that spoke volumes without a word.

His grip on your wrists was released, instead seeking the supple curve of your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he carried you toward the nearest bed. Settling you down with a sense of urgency, the mattress dipped with his company, and he enveloped you in his embrace, hungering for more of the kisses that fueled his wet dreams.

Garreth pulled back, settling on his knees above you, a pleased grin playing on his lips as he panted, as if suddenly realizing something, perhaps in response to the whisper of a zipper against his bare chest. "Why aren't you naked yet?"

You laughed, mischief set free as you met his gaze. "Excuse me? What about romance? Shouldn't you be wooing me or, I don’t know, engaging in some foreplay?"

The redhead chewed his lip, and it stretched with eagerness. “Of course. Where are my manners? Though I’m still taking all of your clothes off right now, I’ve waited long enough for my Easter present.”

"You don’t exactly give gifts for Easter."

There wasn’t much room left for protest, however, as Garreth all but tore your skirt from your waist, his expression telling of the countless times he’d imagined doing so, perhaps somewhere into his fist or while soaking in the shower. The billow of linen and cotton was discarded with such haste that you thought he’d taken some unspoken offence to the garment, but then his efforts were being spent on tugging your underwear down. A breath born from an expletive ensured you were plenty wet for the introduction.

Verdant irises were engulfed by pupils blown wide, as Garreth drank in the sight of your sex. "God… my imagination could never."

"Like what you see, do you?" You giggled nervously, knees bent and pressed together in honest reflex.

"You have no bloody idea how much I like what I see," he replied with a grin, his gaze tracing every contour of your exposed skin. "...what am I supposed to do now?" It was his turn for a nervous chuckle, palming whatever flesh he made contact with, his demeanour akin to that of a tourist in need of directions.

A soft moan rewarded his efforts. "Whatever you desire... I'm yours for the night, remember?"

And to seal the proverbial deal, you peeled the ruched top up and over your head, unhooked your brazier immediately after, and bit the web of your cheek as you expedited it to the floor, joining the rest of your clothing expenditures.

The honeycomb wrapper fluttered onto your stomach, and Garreth raised an amused brow. "A fond little souvenir, hmm?"

"It’s sentimental, shut up." You purred, quieting his jests with bare chests pressed, and he saw no room for further comment on the matter. Garreth was all mouth then, kissing from lips to chin to lobe as he tutted. "Before we truly make like rabbits and fornicate," He couldn’t help the huff that followed, hearing himself say such a big boy word, "there's something I want to do first."

"Tell me," you urged quietly, fingers tangled in fiery copper curls. "Tell me what you want to do to me..."

"Well, for starters..." He kissed a breadcrumb trail from your neck to your shoulder, "I want to hold you in my arms and get you off."

"Oh god," anticipation drenched your mound and arched your back. "Yes, Garreth, please…"

The sound of your voice sent shivers down his spine, confirming the suspicions he had harboured for months. Curated Gryffindor courage made his heart swell, and his hands trailed down to both hips, maneuvering you around until your back pressed against his chest, playing little and big spoons. Garreth's lips found their way to the curve of your ear, where teeth and lips took turns teasing your lobe. "Comfy?"

"Very much so," you mewled, surrendering to his magnetic presence, your bare back pressed against his chest while you lay on your side. Your hips instinctively moved in synchrony with his, firm against fluffy pink fabric slung low on his waist, and there it is—that stiffness underneath the plush that has your mouth watering and your groin humming. A snort erupted from you at the reminder of the rabbit costume, partially undressed, entirely inappropriate.

"What's that, sweetheart? Gonna share with the class?" He tsked then, and a mischievous grin adorned his face as he felt the delightful pressure of your hips against his own. "Might I… take a dip?"

"Yes," you breathed, already writhing, already wanting, even though his exploration had only just commenced. "Please, Garreth... please..."

And so Garreth learned a lot about himself then; your pleading revealed a new kink. He nuzzled your neck with a mischievous grin, his touch growing more daring as a hand dipped lower; as soon as his fingers gently caressed the carnal crux between your thighs, your neck arched a bit harshly, but that was just fine; you were too absorbed in thoughts of holy fuck, Garreth is rubbing my clit.

The prompt response surprised him, but your brash expression had an undeniable allure. A playful smile appeared on his face as he leaned in and whispered in your ear. "Merlin, this wet for me already? So generous..."

"Can’t believe I’m getting fingered by someone in a bunny costume.”

“Fingered by me in a bunny costume, thank you.” Garreth began sucking over your jugular to elicit a sweet little cry from your mouth, and with the flesh popping audibly, no doubt where a bruise would bloom, he whispered, "You're going to feel splendid around me, beautiful.”

"I want you, Garreth." Grinding your pelvis into both his palm and his dick certainly conveyed as much. It echoed the heat that built over months of minute gestures, sidelong glances, and jokes made at each other’s expense.

"I want you, too." His hand moved with purpose, with three fingers flat against your bud, dipping to explore your intimate depths while those tactful lips brushed the upward jut of your neck. An arm snaked under you and around your middle, palming a breast with a multitasking maneuver that made you squirm.

"Garreth," you whimpered as he caressed your wetness, throwing petrol on the fire within you. You found a rhythm that harmonized with the symphony he composed. "Yes, yes..."

"What is it, baby?" His thumb made love to that throb and swell of nerves, eyes closed in concentration as he leaned closer, exhalation hot on your shoulder.

"I want to come for you," you rasped, testifying that which sought to consume you. "Please… faster…"

Garreth's explorations intensified, and the sound of your slick arousal punctuated each movement. An almost accomplished smile curled his lips, relishing the subtle power he held over you. "Do my fingers feel good?" His voice danced all hushed and seductive, the grate of alcohol and lust on his throat.

You were lost in the whims of his touch, unfolding in his hands. As he quickened the pace of his fingers, your body arched along the river banks of abandon, edging closer to release. "I know something that would feel even better."

He possessed an innate knowledge of the words that would stoke the fire within you. "We’ll get there," he whispered, his breath hot on your racing pulse. "First… come for me."

"Yes," you whimpered, your voice trembling with the impending climax that welled within. His finger movements, an audacious symphony between soaked folds, carried you ever closer. "I'm… I'm… "

As your cries of pleasure came forth with volume, Garreth focused his efforts on your clitoral hood, applying firm pressure as opposed to frantic fingering, intent on prolonging the spasms. At the same time, your body practically sang his praises, and he offered the same in return. "Good girl. Now... are you ready for me?"

You panted, flipping over to face him with a breathless peppering of kisses, flush with gratitude. “Keep calling me a good girl like that, and I will be,” you breathed, gently biting his bottom lip.

He was quick on the draw, bless him. "Good girl.”

Eager motions resumed, bodies practically clinging together. "I want you inside me, Garreth." You squirmed underneath, anticipating his taking. “Let me be your good girl; take me from behind…”

Without hesitation, Garreth shifted you onto your stomach faster than his brain could sort sense of the idea. He grabbed you by the hips, repositioning you on the bed with precision, with his trademark combination of dominance and fondness. You stabilized on elbows, swaying your hips like the comely creature you were.

"Is this what my good girl wants?" he smirked, devouring the gradual parting of your legs, the invitation for him to claim what is rightfully his.

"Yes," you practically pleaded, thrumming to feel the weight of his hands upon your hips, to experience his penetration. "Please, baby... spank me."

He processed the request with his mouth slightly agape in surprise at your words. No one had ever made such a request to him before. "Are you asking me to spank my good girl?"

A coy nod over your shoulder and a bitten lip conveyed your consent. "Yes, please... I'll be good..."

"Say it properly.” The command was all supplicant and alluring, while ravenous hands sampled your inner thighs.

“Please, Garreth…” You whimpered, practically dripping. “Please, spank me.”

"That's better..."

A palm thunderclapped across your rear with unexpected force. Another followed in quick succession, harder than the first, and you cried a simpering symphony. Hips swayed and rutted, knees threatened to buckle, and your back arched as heat rooted deep. "More, please, baby..."

His breath hitched as he took in your heartfelt plea, spurred on by something that mingled and met with testosterone, compelling him to venture into unexplored realms, a captive yearning for sweet freedom. Garreth employed the enthralling control he had over you as he gripped your hips possessively, while his palm branded your buttocks.

"So good," you gasped, and each contact drew forth a garbled moan.

A mischievous smirk played across the lion’s face, as he darkened at the welting consequences of his actions. He prolonged the inevitable. "Oh, is that so?" His hand descended once more, his touch deliberate, unhurried.

"Yes, oh god..." You yearned for a proper fuck, to have your hips hammered, longed to stretch intimately around him. With your bottom lip caught between teeth, you glanced back at Garreth, exuding an eager and willing demeanour. "Baby, please..."

The taut heat of his cock nestled against your rear. Nimble fingers curled into your waist, drawing you closer, and then Garreth discovered the full extent of your arousal. "So wet for me..."

"Only for you, baby..." You pushed your hips back, feeling entirely too empty all of a sudden. "Garreth, I need you inside of me… please, take me... "

"Oh, I'm going to take you, all right."

And then, in a display of vulnerability, he guided you closer with hesitant hands seeking comfort on your thighs. With a shared breath, Garreth aligned himself, gathering warmth and wetness in kind on his cock, and announced his entry with an audible exhale.

Like a reflex, your back arched, writhing serpentine along his length as Garreth bottomed out. He provided experimental thrusts, gradually quickened the pace, and soon you were sucked into a beautiful pattern.

A primal moan parted lips in an unfiltered expression of longing as he delved deeper, as Garreth bucked from behind. Bending down, he pressed an enthusiastic kiss to your nape, grunting with the forceful motion of his fuck. With every thrust, his lips on your neck sent shivers down your spine, and with how desperate he was to hold you close, Garreth clutched you close and brought your torso upright, swaying in rhythm, your bodies making sense of one another’s.

"Oh, baby girl…" The wizard purred into your ear with a strong forearm clamped over your torso and a firm grasp tangled in your hair. He tugged at your strands as he increased his pace, the pricks of pulled nerves eliciting a gasp. His grip across your midsection anchored you to his chest, the tight hold leaving crescent marks of possession into the swell of a breast. A lovely, lewd sound escaped his throat as your hips began to meet his movements, the overwhelming pleasure consuming him entirely.

Your back pressed against his chest, and you contorted in all the right ways. With a head tilted back, your sights set on the heavens, surrendering to the moment. "Fuck me, baby. Hold me tight..."

"I’m not letting go," The words were all breath, the sound caught on the brimming heart stuck in his throat, as he leaned down to bite your neck. "You're... you're mine..."

Your hand instinctively snaked between your legs, choking your clit between index and middle digits. The intense sensation of Garreth's plumbing your depths brought you to the brink, surpassing your wildest expectations. "Oh god, Garreth, I'm... I'm coming...”

A shriek was stifled as you came hard and raw, your abdomen releasing pressure buildup as you rocked against Garreth’s cock like it was your saving grace, coaxing and prolonging your release as you disengaged from body and mind, almost going slack in his arms. The announcement, the tightness of your orgasm propelled him fuck to his full potential, chorused by your cries. He teetered on the brink, his equilibrium delicately balanced as he held onto your hip, thrusting deeper inside with each exhalation, his movements deliberate and steadfast.

The bed protested audibly as you rocked on your knees, punctuating your passionate connection. You coaxed him with a voice still raw and made all the more ragged from your climax. "Come, baby…"

Your words were the catalyst of his coming. Garreth buried his face into the back of your neck, breathing ragged and erratic as the boundless excitement that you built within him finally burst forth in a breathtaking culmination. He surrendered to an overwhelming release, spilling himself deep within.

Collapsing forward, he pressed you into the bed, his body weight a comforting presence upon you. You let out a sound of satisfaction as he settled on your back, your inner thighs slick with evidence of your shared release. An inward sigh of fulfillment escapes you while you tilt to plant a kiss on his cheek. "God, that was even better than the first."

"You’ve rendered me boneless, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as he buried his face in the crook of your shoulder. “I’m utterly spent.”

You couldn't help letting out a soft chuckle; your fingers naturally entwined with his as you both shifted onto your sides. When your eyes met, they reflected a sense of contentment and gratification. "Me too," you admitted, your voice soothing in the quiet aftermath. "Spent and drained..."

Garreth's hand tightened around yours, conveying tenderness. His lips curled into a gentle smile, a sparkle of admiration flickering in his gaze. Compelled by magnetism, you gravitated close, capturing his lips in a gentle kiss. "Stay," you murmured, longing to extend this moment of closeness.

The chuckle he responded with caught you off guard until you realized that you hadn’t the foggiest idea whose bed you just expressed your feelings in. "Ah, I see," you laughed, begrudgingly reaching for your clothes.

As you tugged each article of clothing on, Garreth adjusted the rabbit costume back into place, and you devolved into a fit of giggles. “Did you even take off that ridiculous get-up?”

“Listen, love,” Garreth smirked, claiming your chin with impish intent. “I just fucked the most beautiful woman in our year wearing this. I won't soon be criticizing its charm.”

You leaned closer to kiss him, as breathless as he made you feel. “Fair enough.”

[seeker-ophelia]

OK Y'all, I just can’t with these "Ghosts-Of-Christmas-Past-Easter-Eggs" I am finding.

Spoilers, Veilguard so ya know, watch out.

The Three Choices ™

My Sisters in Andraste, what in the ever-loving fuck is happening.

Why am I still talking about this?

"Because, Sera, Bioware, my genuine sorrow for the tragedy of our history cannot be diminished by a single moment."

These are THEIR words!

oNe DaY sOmEoNe WiLl SuMmARiZe ThE tErRiBlE EvEnTs oF yOuR LiFe So QuiCkLy

Varric: ITS KINDA HARD TO START A NEW STORY BEFORE THE OLD ONE IS OVER smhhbcqkwiokvnvanavj

"DoNt WiSh FoR uR chAraktErs To CoMe BaCk Cuz We'LL uNaLiVe TheMz"

[Sera] SHES HUMAN NOT WHATEVER YOU SAID

Varric, on the importance of being seen, even if not needed:

Varric & Bull, on choosing their people:

Varric & Solas, on the destructive nature of humans,

For now the best thing I can offer you is... *dramatic pause*... the truth.

*Gut wrenching Hidden Gulp*

But just like Solas, YOU DIDNT TELL US THE TRUTH. You HID IT FROM US.

And just like Solas, I fear your Pride will be your downfall.

These are THEIR words!

───────

Blackwall Devs:  You haven't said much to me since... well, you know.

Solas Fandom: There is little to say. I assumed we were alike. We'd seen war, knew its terrible costs, and yet understood that it was necessary. But there was nothing necessary in what you did. You did not survive death and destruction. You sowed them. To feed your own desires.

Blackwall Devs:  I know that. I see it every time I look in a mirror. I try to make up for it.

Solas Fandom: By wearing another skin. You ran away rather than face what you had done.

───────

Solas Fandom: I will remember this. When it is over.

Blackwall Devs: This? This war? The Inquisition Veilguard?

Solas Fandom: The people. How you we fought against the tide. It is... courageous.

───────

It's rough, innit, Blackwall OP? But they come and go.

Sera, don't.

Right, right... you're set on being sad forever. But then the sun freakin' comes up.

Yes, well, it's not that easy.

Didn't say it was. I implied I didn't care. Uh-huh, that's right. Implied.

(laughs)

You better laugh. I had to ask Solas for that one.

───────

[tolerateit]

1:58...8:05....1958.....speak now is just a series of 8 theory easter eggs innit

[dzamie]

Possibly a weird question, but you might have the answer:

I went online to buy some chocolate coins for a gaming party, and about half the listings indicated that the coins were for Hanukkah (and were therefore on sale, though they were the wrong color for my party). Do you know why that might've been?

Yeah, it's because of ancient (maybe Roman?) persecution of Jews. See, way back when, it really sucked to be Jewish. It still sucks today, but it also sucked back then. It was actually pretty illegal to teach and practice Judaism, which really put a damper on that whole "passing down community traditions" thing.

Luckily, gambling was cool, as was lying to cops. See, if it was around Chanukah time, and you were telling the youths about how the Maccabees pwned the army and were rewarded with a tiny bit of long-lasting oil, and then the cops busted in the door like "oi wot's all this then," being seen talking about the glory days of beating up people who tried to eradicate your religion would be bad for your physical health. However! If the cops instead saw a bunch of these weird Hebrews gambling with spinning tops, well that's just good old-fashioned fun, now innit? Carry on, lads, glad to see there's no monotheism going on around here.

But the joke's on them, of course, because even the tops themselves were a mnemonic for "a great miracle happened there," referring to when God was so pleased with us for continuing to be Jewish that He let us use a lamp for way longer than is usually possible. So the cop turns his back and the ancient Jews go back to religion things.

Anyway, this all becomes a tradition: Chanukah comes 'round, get out the dreidels and gamble (or at least pretend). But naturally, some people want to be involved in the spinning top game, but don't want to wager actual legit money. So: chocolate coins instead!

As far as I'm aware, Chanukah is one of the biggest consistent reasons people buy chocolate coins (we may be 1-2% of the population, but basically everyone who can buy them, buys them. Annually.), so it's not too surprising a lot of the gelt you see is listed as "for Chanukah."

From what I know of Christianity, I think this is like you looking for plastic eggs (for props in a bird-themed game or something) and finding that, for some reason, a lot of plastic eggs are listed as "for Easter."

[official-mr-knight]

I bloody forgot it was Easter egg yesterday but good thing we made some painted eggs yesterday- it was obsoletely hilarious actually.. But also cute, so here it is!

This one is from marc, simple as ever but cute!

And jake's... Well i know he likes scary movies but that's cute

And from layla🤍

And this is from me! Looks like the stars and sky from two thousand years ago, innit?

[wifeofbath]

"Ah, Edward. How fares the Raft of the Medusa?" I'm filing this with "Vitamin C, innit" and whistling "Spanish Ladies" as our own secret Terror Easter eggs.

[shittycampari]

holy shit i did an art thing innit

First art piece to drop since mid January and its a Easter piece that is a week late.

I should be dropping a piece for campy's birthday (19th April) but until then, enjoy ur scran swag masters xx

[graciehatesgracie]

damnatorum.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: mentions of drugs (antidepressants), death in the family, psychological torture, rape, horrible fucking writing (I'm supposed to be sleeping, appy polly loggies if shit doesn't make sense), and more

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Pete Mochaliwei James.

The most taciturn droog out of all of them.

He was a strange boy. Quiet. Reserved. In his own world. He avoided eye contact, rarely got attached to humans (though he did find everyday objects like toasters, mirrors, and doors entertaining), and never really had anything going on. If you looked him deep and straight into the eyes, you'd figure there was absolutely void behind it. He was hard to read. His expression was always inscrutable. His parents were killed in a vehicular accident. He never had any family to love or to care for. He was outcasted and harassed for his "weird" nature. He was hurt and hurt and hurt and hurt. It never stopped. Till he found Alex. He was beaten up in an alleyway. Scarred. He was pathetic. Like a sad, lost, and abandoned puppy. There was a cut on his lip, and he had a black eye. Alex took him in, not cause he felt any ounce of sympathy for the poor boy, but he knew it would be easy to twist and use Pete. Someone in such a vulnerable mental state would be perfect to warp.

Pete turned out to be just the perfect good boy Alex expected and more. He followed all of Alex's commands, never got out of line, and didn't really complain about Alex's tyranny. Pete wasn't exactly a sucker for rape and violence like the others were, but he did his fair share. Although Pete was a bit too shy for Alex's liking (he would prefer if Pete were more blunt with his words), Alex still liked him. To most, being liked by a pretty blond blue-eyed boy your age would be a blessing. To Pete, it was inferno. Alex treated Pete like a fucking dog, and even if Pete never complained or talked about it, he hated it. Alex was like the owner and Pete the pet. Alex near to always babied Pete (not in a gentle way), and acted as if Pete were some sort of fascinating sculpture, crafted by the finest artist of all. When Alex looked at Pete, it wasn't the gaze of a friend. it was an inspection. Pete was an object in Alex's eyes, which made it easier to boss him around without feeling guilty about it. Not that Alex could in the first place.

"Pete, dear brother! lovely seeing you here."

".....Why did you call me?"

"Aha, for the old in-out-in-out, ofcourse."

Did I mention they were fucking too?

"......"

"Alrighty, I suppose you remember the drill, Petey-boy?"

Pete closed his eyes and shakily exhaled through his nose.

"in the litso this time. Come on. You've done it before."

Alex said in a way a loving and caring owner would speak to their dog. Pete didn't complain, as per usual, and got on his knees. He closed his eyes, expecting the sound of a zipper and something getting shoved into his mouth, but he was met with silence for a bit. After a good second or two, he felt Alex put something on his head. He opened his eyes and noticed Alex put a bunny headband on him.

"....?"

"Cute, innit? Wanted my little puppy to look extra horrorshow for today. Y'know, with it being Easter n' all."

Pete didn't exactly abide by the laws of Christianity, but he did know there was Bog somewhere out there. It completely slipped his mind that it was Easter, since on the days he wasn't being actively forced to participate in some delinquency Alex planned for the droogs, he spent all his time in his room either reading or contemplating things. He was massively introverted and preferred silence and peace. Nobody was there to greet him a happy Easter, and on the way to Alex's apartment, his vision was fucked from taking a concerning amount of antidepressants and didn't notice the Easter decor in the stores. Pete said nothing and went along with it. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth in preparation for the violent horrors he was about to face next.

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might make a smut on this idk if this gets a positive reaction I'll do it

[bisexualnathanyoung]

Nathanity

Pairing: Nathan x Mel (OC)

Word Count: 389

Uploading on mobile, so formatting will probably be bad.

Just some dumb ass dialogue and cuteness, happy Easter

We were sat in front of the telly, passing a joint around. I was sitting with my feet towards the TV, forwards on the bed like a normal person, and Nathan’s head was in my lap. His legs were thrown over the side of the armrests like a not normal person.

I took a long drag, and then handed it back to him, “you ever think… about… how you’re like… not actually immortal?”

By the time I’d finished talking, he’d already smoked some and given it back to me.

“What d’ye mean? ‘Course I am. I’ve died like three times, and I’m still here, kickin’. Lovin’. Fightin’. Whatever the phrase is,” he said.

“But that’s it, innit?” I responded, giving him the joint back, “you died. Immortal means you can’t die. You died.”

“But like,” he stopped talking to smoke, “what is ‘died’? Did I die? I don’t know.”

“You died,” I said while he did a good job of hogging the weed from me.

“I mean I guess so,” he responded after finally handing it back to me.

“I think your power is like… self-resurrection,” I said.

“What like Jesus?” He said and lifted his head up to look at me.

I giggled, “er, yeah, sure. I guess. I don’t know nothin’ bout that shit.”

He took the joint back from me, “You think in a hundred years they’ll create Nathanity?,” he let out a little giggle, “that’d be great.”

I finished the joint and flicked it on the ground, “God, I hope not.”

“What?” he said with a smirk, “you like being the only girl who worships me?”

I rolled my eyes, “I do not worship you.”

“You worship this dick,” he said.

I looked down at him, “I’m going to kill you.”

He smiled, “I’ll come back.”

I scrunched up my nose, “I hate you.”

His grin didn’t falter, “you love me.”

I bent over and kissed him on the forehead, “yeah, you’re right, I do.”

“But like… I’m still immortal even though I died. Like… like… you didn’t like it when that girl said that somebody has to have slept with a man and a woman to be bisexual… like… it’s still me,” he said.

… …

“Nathan,” I said.

“Yes, my love?” he responded.

“What in the goddamn shittin’ fuck are you talking about?”

[amcdrawnon]

Easter innit

[w0rped-moss]

Because of Easter I just randomly remembered that back when Tommy died in prison and was revived for the first time inniters started comparing him to Jesus of Nazareth because they both "came back on the third day" and basically they came to the conclusion that Tommy was the Jesus of the dsmp and that meant even if it seems like he's doing wrong he's not because he's Jesus and he's working for Prime and that means he can Do No Wrong

(I was the only "inniter" around the time that remembered Dream made Prime so by default if they somehow were true that'd mean Dream was like Jesus too plus he called himself prime Jesus so-)

oh my god I remember the c!tommy Jesus comparison that was fuckin wild

[lindsaywesker]

Good morning! I hope you slept well and feel rested? Currently sitting at my desk, in my study, attired only in my blue towelling robe, enjoying my first cuppa of the day. Happy Hump Day!

I was listening to last week’s ‘A-Z Of Mi-Soul Music’ (and what a damn fine show it is) and I was listening closely to the lyrics of ‘Don’t Go Messing With My Heart’. It reminded me of this insightful thing that Bob Marley once said. He wasn’t just one of the greatest songwriters of all-time, he was also a very empathetic man. Marley once said, “The biggest coward of a man is to awaken the love of a woman without the intention of loving her.” Those words have always stuck with me. Cowards start something and, once the woman starts ‘catching feelings’, the coward backs away. In my past, I admit, I guess I’ve messed with women’s hearts, and I’ve certainly had my heart trampled on a few times! Listen, women can be clumsy and careless too! Why do we do this? Some people don’t give a damn, of course. Men, in particular, will say absolutely ANYTHING to get a woman into bed. Men will literally promise a future just to get their end away. A future! Men will literally lie about wanting a relationship and marriage and kids JUST to get inside a woman’s drawers! And this always brings me back to the words of another very wise person, legendary madam, Cynthia Payne. Ms. Payne suggested that men are a lot more considered and coherent once they’ve “de-spunked”. Until that physical reaction has occurred, men are just talking – not to put too fine a point on it – shit!

I don’t wish to put you off your breakfast but, amazingly, people use wet wipes and just flush them straight down the toilet. As you know, some people pour hot cooking oil straight down the sink. So, as you can imagine, this delightful combination of waste matter, wet wipes, food and cooking oil congeals together to make this ultra thick, ultra juicy ‘fatberg’ down in the sewer. Someone then has the unpleasant task of breaking down these blockages into smaller pieces, so they can float away into the sea (and we can swim in them!) What a great job! No, people, wet wipes don’t dissolve!

How very kind of City News to post a free ‘Special Coronation Edition’ through my letterbox! I’m supposed to get excited about a man that had an affair with his wife’s friend, failed to protect his wife from a paparazzi that ultimately hounded her and hunted her down until she was dead, paid no inheritance tax on his mum’s billions (in a time of hardship for many), and installed his mistress as the new queen. Even if he didn’t love Diana, Charles should have tried every member of the paparazzi (and their editors) for treason, protected his wife, and then at least William and Harry would still have a mother! No, I won’t be celebrating the coronation. This free newspaper will line my dustbin!

I adore chocolate and I know a bargain when I see one! My local Tesco is selling-off £4.00 chocolate Easter eggs for £1.00. That deal is too good to resist. My family are NOT impressed, though I suspect they pretend to be appalled at my greed. Thankfully, I have managed to convince that it is NOT me buying the chocolate eggs but that they are breeding in our dining room while we sleep!

Want to know what it’s like in my house? At lunch time, I said to The Trouble, “What do you want in your sandwich? Bacon or egg!” “BOTH!” she said. And, that’s what it’s like in our house! Just call me Cinderella! So, I grilled the bacon, scrambled the eggs and she had both! “I’m so lucky!” she said, as she chomped into her sarnie. Happy wife, happy life, innit?

Have a wonderful and well-endowed Wednesday. I love you all. Yes, a crazy, bald man loves and cares about you.