#idfk what to tw this as

[karkart]

rlly like how this turned out. bonus points if you know where the words are from

[opudont-donut]

Did you ever make a comic? 👁️ 👁️

I'm still planning on making a comic about my au but uh!!!! I'm really nervous about it and I'm not confident in my skills jggdjfd

BUT I HAVE SOME CONCEPTS and even a possible name for it

[mooseonahunt]

Trespasser

[underwittingly]

auror harry has caught malfoy red-handed

[noritaro]

good night gamers

[rigormortisangel]

healthy and balanced breakfast (12 pills and one sip of water)

[asketchydomesticatedgremlin]

mmmmmmmnnnnnnghhhhhh need to finish the other half of this but motive is low and im excited to show off.......

[doodoobirds]

I ain popular enough to be drawing all this

This was an doodle of my fem soldier and my friend said are you sure that’s a girl and I haven’t been the same since

Plus I had this drawing that I really like and because of this drawing I haven’t been able to draw men right

[sentimental-dog]

OKAY FIRST OFF IT'S FINE EVERYTHING IS GREAT I'M THE PROBLEM. BUT IF I SEE ONE MORE ROMANCE SHIP THING I'M GOING TO FUCKING CRY godddd what do I have to do to make friends who care about platonic ships like I do!! I'm sick of browsing the actual ship tag for crumbs, I just want people to feel sick over their friendship with me...they care about eachother so much but THEY DON'T HAVE TO KISS ABOUT IT EVERY TWO SECONDS OR FEEL THIS STUPID DEEP CONNECTION THAT MAKES THEM ONLY CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER RAGHHH

and browsing the fandom tag is hard too because everything is ship. you have to wade through piles and piles of romance to find one not-explictly-romantic post, and even then the only people who interact with it are people who ship them so it becomes romantic. I GET IT. I DON'T CARE THAT PEOPLE ARE ENGAGING WITH WHAT MAKES THEM HAPPY. BUT FUCK!!! FUCK!!! I DON'T KNOW

[creature-of-pizza]

GORETOBER DAY 14: CHAINSAWS

Credit to aliensphynx on instagram

[ciderjacks]

today i deank One beer and then alcoholic star wars “blue milk”. Yes it’s gross. Its very alcoholic. It tastes good to me. Guess whats in it. Ill give you two hints: Cirtus and Milk

[forlorn-crows]

Waddles in late as hell

Hiiiiii

Might I ask for something cute with Mounty and Zephyr....Talking about puppy mount the other day drove me insane about them, and I'm hgngnfnfnn, it's your fault (/lh).

Messy excited puppy excited to show Zephyr his first kill by himself maybe?

I just love them....

Thank you 🥺🥺🥺🥺

-Void

happy birthday @divine-misfortune! i am very happy to present (ha, present) . . . THEM. i will not be apologizing for give you the brainrot

mountain's first hunt w/zeph. you know they gettin' cute and frisky with it

!!TW!! MURDER GHOUL CONTENT AHEAD. YE HAVE BEEN WARNED mentions of blood, guts, gore, etc.

Zephyr wouldn't have guessed Mountain would find hunting so natural. As gangly, long-limbed, and quiet as he is, his demeanor changes wholly and completely at the promise of sport. It was alluring to Zephyr, to see him change before their eyes in the dim of the forest, shirking his glamour to become something magnificent and eldritch. They had changed beside him, ruffling bright white feathers and stretching their talons. They breathed in tandem, reaching their senses into the forest to find their prey as they stumbled over roots to get away. 

It was no use, of course. Zephyr watched as Mountain took off, weaving through trees like second nature. Luring and teasing so the air ghoul could swoop in for the kill. 

They sit together now, propped up against one of the eldest trees in the forest, its trunk wide enough for them both to recline on. Enjoying the bloody fruits of their hellish labor. They both carry remnants of their true form still—feathers sticking out behind Zephyr’s ears, dense bark and moss clinging to Mountain’s elbows. Not quite glamoured, not quite unglamoured. 

The earth ghoul hasn’t said a word since the release of their captive. But he’s certainly been making plenty of noise: growling and snarling as the blood sprung from the mortal’s artery, huffing hot breath through his nose as he carried it to their dining spot, sighing and groaning contentedly as he sucks the flesh off the bones. 

It’s interesting, Zephyr thinks. But they don’t mind, and they don’t question. Lucifer knows how frenzied they had been their first time. It’s nice to enjoy company that’s rather docile.

Mountain turns to them, eyeing the wet organ in their hands. His eyes dart from their face down to their lap and back again, wide and expectant. 

Zephyr smiles. “Is there something you want?”

Mountain doesn’t answer. Instead, he shuffles closer to them, draping himself against their side and leaning his head onto their shoulder. Still pointedly staring at the meat in their hands.

The air ghoul shakes their head, amused. “Here. Let me feed you some.” Mountain perks up at that, nearly drooling as he watches Zephyr tear a piece off and hold it up. He darts out to capture it between his teeth, but they’re faster, pulling it just out of his reach. “Ah-ah,” they scold playfully. Mountain whines, ears pinning back. “Don’t give me that face, love, there’s no need to be greedy.” They reach out and lift Mountain’s chin with their free hand, cupping it gently, stroking his jaw with their thumb. 

His eyes flutter a bit. Zephyr smiles and presses the flesh to his lips. He licks it up eagerly, rumbling happily as the tang of it bursts on his tongue. 

The air ghoul presses their lips his before he can lick them clean, pressing into his mouth to taste. Mountain trills in surprise, but opens up easily. Groaning as they swipe against his teeth.

Zephyr sighs into his mouth. They lick some of the still-warm blood into their own and hum appreciatively, catching a drop of it off of Mountain’s lips and bringing it to theirs. 

"Tastes so sweet, pet. You did a splendid job, you know," they compliment. Mountain chuffs and gives an affectionate nuzzle to the side of their face.

"Who knew you'd be so . . ." they search for the right word, scratching at Mountain's scalp. His tail beats against the chilled ground. Zephyr chuckles. " . . . cute after a hunt. Big ol' beastie, aren't you?" 

Mountain sighs and melts against him, indulging in the feeling of Zephyr’s claws in his hair. It’s unfamiliar, this sated, almost simple feeling throughout his brain. But he finds he doesn’t mind it—it’s easier to lean into his more animalistic side, to forgo the complicated nature of a sentient, overly-cognizant mind as he goes back to stuffing his supernatural being into a mortal vessel. 

So he nods in agreement. “You really did a very good job, Mountain,” Zephyr praises. “Such a clever ghoul. Exciting to watch, too.”

Mountain whines at the compliments. “You like that I praise you, hm? Well, you certainly deserve it,” Zephyr continues. “And a brilliant pick of the litter. That sibling certainly had no place in our congregation. Could smell it a mile away, couldn’t you?” The earth ghoul’s tail thumps harder against the ground, too much like a puppy for his own liking. But Zephyr scratches his head and places a kiss between his horns, and suddenly whatever his tail is doing is none of his business. 

“Clever, clever thing you are. And to think I was granted the honor of sharing the first with you.” The air ghoul cradles Mountain’s face in their hands, admiring the blush spread across his freckled and blood-stained cheeks. He gazes back adoringly. Pleading for something, perhaps, a little more. 

“Would you indulge me, a little, in my desire to give you a reward?” They press close once more, kissing over Mountain’s eyelids once they fall shut. He gasps, mouth falling open as they continue to place kisses over his face, trailing down, down, down. The whimper Mountain lets out is needy, immediately desperate. 

Zephyr gives him a quick kiss, dragging their fangs over his bottom lip as they pull back. “Satanas, the taste of a kill on your mouth makes me want to ravish you,” they rasp. Mountain moans unbidden, grasping at their thick linen shirt as desire blooms in his belly. “Yes, I bet you’d like that,” Zephyr says, smoothing a hand down his chest. It earns them another moan and a huff of hot air across their face. “So responsive like this, pet.”

As if to punctuate their statement, Mountain grabs their wrist and guides their hand down to his crotch, pressing it against his chubbing cock. Now it’s Zephyr’s turn to groan. “Naughty thing,” they mutter. “Sit on my lap. Let me show you how much I enjoyed our night together.”

Well, Mountain doesn’t need to be told twice. 

[boundinparchment]

Reprieve

In which Dottore helps you deal with the cyclical pain of having a uterus. As gender-neutral as possible but reader has a uterus, so this references to everything that involves. Pure indulgent fluff. I don't know what else to say. On AO3 here.

You rolled over and curled up on your side, sleep ruptured by the dull ache blossoming into searing pain that seemed to radiate through your entire being.  Beneath you, the sheets felt damp.  Not now.  Why now?  

Next to you, the bed was cold.  Dottore had long since gotten up.  He slept so rarely, and although he didn’t necessarily need it, he deserved to rest more.  The last few weeks had been rough in finalizing the Tsaritsa’s most recent plans.

You willed yourself out of bed and into the washroom to clean up.  The tiles were warm beneath your feet and the pain ran down your legs and seemed to sit in your very hip bones, gnawing at you like a rift hound’s claws tearing at a leyline root.  

Every damn month.

After washing up and chucking the wrapper into the garbage, you sank to the floor, doubled over.  Just a few minutes, you reasoned.  At least the floor wasn’t as cold as the land outside, the Palace wrapped in what felt like an eternal blizzard.  

Getting up a second time felt impossible.

Exactly what you didn’t need today.  Your schedule was packed, one diplomatic meeting after another, a day full of smiles and watching your words like a hawk over its prey.  

You weren’t sure how long you laid there, absorbing the radiating heat once you found the best position that took the edge off of the pain.  You knew you didn’t have to endure this.  Your lover had already worked through several viable options for precisely this reason; some permanent, others not.  Some months were better than others, though.  Not all of them were this bad.

“What are you doing down there?”

You didn’t have to pull your head up to know Dottore was standing in the doorway of the washroom, looking down at you.  This scene was nothing new.  The question was redundant, although teasing, and its answer was one you didn’t need to give.

Warm hands helped you up and supported you as you bit back a whine, your legs protesting.

“How long were you laying there?” Dottore asked, breath tickling your forehead.

“Not sure,” you replied.  “Hurts too much.”

“We’ll take care of that.”

“Dottore, I’m fine, I just need some time to—”

He kissed your forehead, silencing you as a hand pressed against your lower abdomen.  For someone with such a cold demeanor, he had the warmest hands.  Your muscles eased ever so slightly and you felt yourself slump a little.

“One of my Segments can take your schedule.  There’s no reason you need to bother yourself with the inane whining of the nobles that can’t solve their own problems.”

You relented, knowing full well that it was easier to just let him help than push back.  You didn’t have the energy, anyway.  He led you back down the hall to bed, pulling the covers back on his side and ushering you back under the protective warmth of the blankets with a kiss before leaving the room.

He returned with a small sampling of your favorite breakfast options before retreating into the other rooms of your shared quarters.  Within a few minutes, you heard the sound of running water and caught the scent of your favorite bath oil, too.  A scent that was no longer in circulation, one he’d developed himself when you lamented you’d been unable to find a suitable replacement some years prior.  

A bath did sound nice, you admitted.  Much nicer than a day full of meetings and grinning through your organs revolting against you.

You finished the small plate of food, savoring the last of the tiny and flaky peach-filled pastry that you still never learned the name of.  You heard the water stop and Dottore’s footsteps, the Harbinger returning again, this time with a vial containing a pearlescent liquid.  It was familiar, a usual anti-inflammatory compound that he kept on hand for these exact occasions, and therefore by now needed no instructions.  Or so you thought.

You held out your hand to take it but Dottore shook his head, his free hand gently holding your chin to keep your head steady.

“It’s not the usual dosage, darling.  A little will go a long way.  Open, please.”

You obeyed, opening your lips as the cold glass met your bottom lip and you felt the cool liquid across your tongue and down your throat.  It tasted sweet, like sunsettia.  Dottore capped the vial and placed it on the bedside table; he’d given you about half, you gathered, based on what was left.

Before you could ask anything further, Dottore pulled the covers back and slipped his arms beneath you, lifting you from the bed with ease.

“I can walk, Dottore.”

He silenced your protests with another kiss to the forehead.  “No one said you couldn’t, darling.”

You found yourself back in the washroom, heated tiles beneath your feet as Dottore lowered you back to the ground.  You spotted fresh clothes, a cup of herbal tea, and your favorite book; a new publication you hadn’t gotten around to reading yet.

“But what about the—” you gestured to the other room, where the sheets were stained, more appropriate for his lab than your bedroom.

“It’s nothing that needs your attention,” Dottore replied.  “For now, relax.”

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical.  His unmasked face was close to yours, mouth upturned in a playful smile.  Your lips met his once, twice, soft and eager kisses that you hoped conveyed your appreciation for the gesture and care.  His tongue brushed yours, all of once, before the Harbinger pulled away and helped you out of your pajamas.  

Out of habit, you bundled them to hide the blood, as though the man next to you had sensibilities too fragile for such things.  You saw him covered in viscera, elbows deep in a specimen you had no name for, among other things; he was quite literally the last person to be bothered by the presence of blood.

Dottore helped you into the tub, the heat from the water enveloping you.

“Thank you, Zandik,” you murmured.

At the mention of his given name, the one long forgotten, you watched as the tips of his ears turned pink.  

“Take your time.  I’ll come back and check on you in a bit.”

The warm water didn’t rid you of the pain entirely but the edge was already disappearing.  The medication, and maybe a nap together, would do the rest.

[roemantics]

reverse will

[chaotic-history]

having weird trans impostor syndrome and. fuck me.

[kenniilovesthethicc]

Quality Memes 💕