#im so pathetic what

[stil-lindigo]

when people reblog donation posts and say "donate what you can", I really feel like people aren't actually internalising it. not all of us can afford to donate $50, $100, more than that. but i know for a fact that there are thousands of us that can spare $2 or $5, and that all adds up.

it hurts so much to sit here and feel the limits of our own ability. we're not millionaires. we can't instantly fund these escape attempts. but these are bids for life, by people who never asked for the hellfire being rained upon them by sadistic colonialists, greedy for oil and land. they committed no crime other than being born in palestine. and of course it's unfair, to have to shoulder the weight of people's lives when we're all struggling to get by as it is. but our governments relentlessly fail us, they fail to scrape at the bottom of their cold dead hearts for their last dregs of humanity. it is so, so unfair, but it is up to the common man to save each other.

please. look at this spreadsheet. find a fund that resonates with you. and DONATE WHAT YOU CAN.

[fridgrave2-0]

hehe ghost-turbo haunting felix au

turbo is connected to the last piece of his code in the whole arcade - a trophy he gifted to felix in mid 80s as a symbol of him genuinely caring about their relationships on par with being the best racer. felix also gave him one of his medals and both kept their gifts next to other rewards, but when roadblasters and turbotime were unplugged, the medal was gone with everything else

now, after burning in cola-lava turbo is basically dead, but scraps of his code still were intertwined with the trophy (after all, it was his first winner's cup, but felix never knew about it), giving turbo an opportunity to exist as a shadow incapable of interacting with anything and anyone besides felix, who kept the trophy even after the roadblasters incident

also I went crazy in tags, feel free to check them out

[s-aint-elmo]

the canon of dunmeshi makes it easy to imagine farcille with marcille as the perpetually pining party ready and willing to violate the most fundamental laws of nature for the woman she is utterly, irrevocably in love with. but.

the idea of marcille doing everything she does under the impression that falin is just her dearest most special friend that she loves with the normal platonic intensity of all girl besties while newly re-resurrected falin is shaking laios in their shared bedroom at the earliest opportunity trying to spark their two brain cells together to figure out if marcille, who she has been desperately crushing on since magic school, is actually in lesbians with her and just denser than a neutron star is infinitely funnier so that's the version of reality i subscribe to

(to sweeten the pot this makes marcille being obsessed with romantic drama and effortlessly spinning a character study of chilchuck's wife based solely on two sentences, her knowledge of him as a co-worker, and the power of her own delusions so much funnier too. too busy working that maxed out delusion stat on her unfortunate partymates to look inward for two seconds)

[dansemacabre]

i’ve been thinking about “sixer, it would eat you alive” since i read it and. man. every layer you peel back makes it worse. im not a bill apologist but. shit

if you (1) take it at face value, it paints bill as an apologetic murderer in his single (and maybe sole) open moment of regret. he doesn’t let his walls down often- only with ford do we even get to see the remnant of his galaxy, see the “actual remorse” ford describes, get just a hint of his origins. but he does it, because he thinks ford should know.

if you (2) take it from ford’s point of view, as something he committed to journal three, like. wow. imagine being so committed to a being that you’d hunt down and kill the monster that destroyed his home, only to (assumably) figure out later that that being was the monster. the small moments of trust, the “good times”, are so key to manipulation. how long did ford hold onto that one shred of vulnerability? no wonder ford stayed for as long as he did. in his eyes, bill was a survivor. ford wanted to survive too.

(slight tw below for unreality- any time i mention our reality, i mean “our reality” as a narrative device used in the book of bill as a proxy for the idea of bill being in our reality, since he can’t actually be in our reality. all of this is a fictional theory about a show/book with fictional contents!)

but if you (3) remember that “even his lies are lies” and absolutely Nothing bill says should be trusted. Whoo boy. if i read tbob right the book itself is being created in the theraprism (even tho it shows up with the ciphertologists at some point? idk that’s a whole other post). it’s meant to show what the reader wants to see; it manifests in our reality as what the collective fandom wants to see. so if we want to see truth, if we want to see where bill ended up and who he actually is, there’s a non-zero chance that the whole interaction was a complete fabrication.

imagine bill, stuck in the actively harmful, probably earth-illegal theraprism, once again being forced to be “fixed” and molded into something more palatable, being forced to conform no matter how much it hurts. (i know natural uncontrollable mutation ≠ just so much murder and destruction and chaos, but. you can’t ignore the similarities. bill has obviously been thinking about those silly straws.)

he looks back on everything that went wrong, back on his relationship with ford, back through every dimension where he wins. would that one moment, that one truth amid centuries of lies, have saved him from purgatory? if he had just been open? shown his damage? maybe he did think of his parents, or his henchmaniacs (especially the oracle). people who he might have once opened up to. maybe he just wanted to open up to someone again.

so in his own weird way, stuck in a cell, he reshaped reality again. in this reality, for this fleeting moment, he had been someone worth believing. and ford had listened, hell, ford had wanted to help. looking back, knowing how he treated ford, knowing how ford ended up because of it, maybe bill would have said the most honest thing he’d ever told ford: i am the monster, i am not worth your time or belief, and i will eat you alive.

[ipostmysimpingstuffanonymously]

They both lost their team and their teacher....

[mythalism]

cannot stop thinking about a romanced Lavellan being the default world state. it seems like no big deal at first until you realize that it’s the world state that all new players to the franchise will use. it is the world state they chose for people who are brand new to the world and its characters. it’s the world state they chose to get new people invested in the world. whatever happens in that world state isn’t just for us, who have been eagerly waiting, but is significant enough that they want every single brand new player to see it, to experience those scenes. i need to lay down

[thebrainrotsreal]

Listen there's a half chance the hands and stuff do not work this way, but simply?? pretend they do ig ??? Had to get some Vlad out of my system, so behold my fav ghostie on the planet! Wine drinker, petty plotter, my love, haha!

[mercurymacaroons]

arrives 15 min late with a latte

......sup

[gunsatthaphan]

I‘m????? normal?????

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 2 ]

{☆} characters furina, neuvillette {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings none {☆} word count 1.9k {☆} previous [ 1 ]

This had to be a punishment of some sort – some kind of divine punishment.

She was bored out of her mind just watching the sleeping body – she hadn't blinked once in the past five hours, her eyes were really starting to hurt. Yet they still hadn't moved so much as an inch since she sequestered them away to the only place she had known to be safe.

But it'd been almost a week since then.

The only solace she found was that Teyvat had seemed much less hellbent on collapsing in on itself like a dying star.

That counted for something.

Not much, but something!

..Even if their position was no better then it was a week ago.

There was, after all, still the issue of what to do about the false Creator – the actual imposter – and the Archons following them like blind lambs. The other Archons wouldn't listen if she tried to reason with them, and it would only risk the life of Divine One if she spoke of their location to anyone else.

She also was pretty fond of having her head still attached to her shoulders.

So she avoided them all together. Partially because she wasn't sure she wouldn't have a breakdown at the sight of them..she'd never been a fighter, and fighting an Archon? Easy pass.

Instead she was forced to babysit the sleeping Divine until they woke up while Neuvillette handled taking care of the nation and dealing with the other Archons – and by extension the false Creator.

Really though, she would almost think them dead if not for the subtle rise and fall of their chest.

Though..this also left her with a lot of time to herself. A lot of time to think.

She really didn't like it.

There wasn't a lot to occupy her mind and what little there was only distracted her for a scant few moments before her eyes drifted back to the Divine like she was locked in their orbit, unable to escape.

She closed the same book for the twelfth time – she kept count – and returned it to it's meticulously designed place within her bookcase. A low, barely audible huff of frustration escaped her lips before she could bite it down, her stare boring a hole into the body of the Divine One with a sharp intensity she rarely showed.

She was tired, bored and constantly on edge, fearing that at any moment someone would find out about their presence here.

That, at the drop of a hat, she would be powerless to stop the greatest tragedy of her time play out before her eyes.

Neuvillette would have scolded her for being so petulant, especially around the Divine One, if he were here.

But he wasn't.

He was out running her nation, instead.

And what was she doing? Nothing!

She grit her teeth, nails digging harshly into the palm of her hands as she took a deep breath – now was not the time to think about that. She had..much more pressing matters. Sulking and letting her thoughts spiral helped no one, least of all herself.

Yet her attention was caught by a harsh inhale, the rustle of fabric – were they finally waking up? She was exhausted, but it all vanished at the sudden drop of life within the otherwise deathly still body of the Divine.

Her eyes followed the subtle twitch of their fingers, watching as their brow furrowed and their features twisted in something almost like..pain.

..She wasn't ready.

What was she supposed to say?

Should she even say anything? Would that be considered impolite? Does she wait for them to speak first? Should she kneel? Bow?

She doesn't get much time to find her own answer before their lashes flutter, chest heaving with every strangled breath. Every single thought vanishes from her mind the moment she meets their eyes.

For a long, silent moment she thinks that her heart must have stopped.

Their eyes glow like the cresting of the sun over the horizon, painting the world in hues of gold – yet it also reminded her of the dipping of the moon below the waves, casting the briefest, most gentle of lights upon the world engulfed in darkness. In the depths of their eyes was the birth and death of stars in the infinite cosmos – glittering stars in a sea of empty, blank space that left her feeling lightheaded and breathless.

Beneath the splendor is a spark of recognition in their eyes so vibrant it was like a shooting star piercing through the dark night sky, leaving nothing but the wonder in the eyes of the observer as the only proof it ever existed – brilliant in it's beauty, however brief.

It is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen.

"Focalors?"

The lilt of their voice nearly made her knees buckle beneath her – euphoria so consuming it left her feeling she was starving swallowed her whole, her mind blanking in a moment of utter bliss. It was..an indescribable feeling that she doubted she could ever hope to put into words – not in a way that could properly express it, try as she might.

She swallowed the words that threatened to spill from her lips – she couldn't make a fool of herself. Not in front of them of all people. She'd never forgive herself.

"Divine One," She rasps, clearing her throat and covering her mouth with a hand to mask both her nervousness and the small smile that creeps across her face. She quickly regains her composure, hand resting on her hip as she puffs out her chest with every bit of pride she can manage. "I am sure you must be confused, but worry not– your most loyal acolyte has seen the truth!"

The silence is deafening.

She opens one eye, peaking at the bewildered and almost distraught expression of the Divine.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

That..she was not prepared for. Surely they knew who they were! Surely they knew. They had to– she's been praying to them for as long as she's breathed, she's dedicated every hour of her life to living up to their ideals, they can't just–!

"Lady Furina?"

Neuvillette, thankfully, spares her the embarrassment of having a meltdown in front of the Divine, the gentle rap of his knuckles against the door making her and the Divine pause, the soft lull of his voice soothing her nerves and yet setting her on edge at the same time.

"Neuvillette." She clears her throat again, her steps hurried as she marches to the door and pries it open none too gently, a forced smile pulling at her lips. She wastes no time tugging the man into the room, shutting the door behind him with a short huff. The silence is, somehow, even worse then before as the three of them stare at each other in absolute exasperation.

Neuvillette, for his part, manages to get his act together with a sharp clearing of his throat, bowing so low even she looks unnerved. She steals a brief glance at the Divine, and she's taken aback by the uncomfortability twisting their features into a grimace.

Their expression is schooled back into one of empty apathy when he stands back to his full height, but she saw it – she knows she did! Did they not like their worship? Were they not respectful enough? For a moment, she feared the Divine would smite Neuvillette down on the spot..but they just stared at him like he was a ghost.

"Why aren't you killing me?"

The defeated, resigned tone combined with the way their voice cracks makes her heart ache in her chest – it feels as though her entire world is crumbling down at her feet, and she cannot explain why she feels such emotions so strongly, but it is suffocating. It is almost as if Teyvat itself is weeping, bearing down upon her shoulders like a heavy weight.

She feels the urge to weep herself, but she powers through, gritting her teeth long enough for Neuvillette to take his place at the side of her – though it feels more like their – bed, kneeling like he was going to pray.

"Divine One," He offers a hand with a quiet rumble of his voice, the words slipping off his tongue like honey. It's like trying to soothe a stray cat..though she'd never voice such comparisons of the most Divine out loud. "I..we mean you no harm. I swear on my authority as the Iudex of Fontaine and Chief Justice that you are safe with us."

The skepticism she expected, but the reverence in which Neuvillette must convince them – or perhaps they are simply so tired that they simply did not care any longer if it was all some ploy to drive a knife between their ribs. She didn't expect them to actually place their hand in Neuvillette's.

He didn't either, judging by the way he visibly brightened – not that they'd notice, but she did.

..Not that she could really blame him, her heels clicking against the floorboards as she shifted her weight to the other foot with a nervous energy that was practically bursting at the seams, more then a little jealous of the attention he was receiving. She was the one who found them, she was the one who stayed with them the entire time..but he gets all the attention?

How unfair.

"O-of course! We would never lay a hand on our creator," She adds, her voice a little higher pitched then she would have liked as she placed her hands on her hips, puffing out her chest and brushing off the sting of jealousy. "Least of all I– your most loyal, most devout acolyte!"

She felt baffled when she heard the sound of their laughter, her shoulders hunching and her cheeks flushing on mere instinct – she was expecting mockery, but the look in their eyes, still dulled by a pain she cannot even begin to imagine, made her hesitate.

..It was, perhaps, the most genuine thing she'd heard from them ever since before the hunt began.

She wasn't sure why her heart hurt at such an idea, but it was enthralling to see the beginnings of a half hearted smile on their lips.

For a moment, her mask of theatrics was forgotten as she stared at them in a mixture of awe and adoration– and though she didn't look at Neuvillette, she could imagine he must've shared such an expression.

Had she any doubts that they were her Creator, that they alone were the most Divine..they would wiped clean now. There was no mistaking the way the world itself seemed to grow clearer as they glanced up at her like she was worth something.

For a moment, she realized how cold the false Creators gaze had been now that she has felt warmth so gentle it almost made her knees buckle beneath her. It felt like a pale imitation, now.

Nothing could compare to the warmth that spread through her body at the mere semblance of a smile upon their lips. She didn't even mind if it was her they were laughing at anymore, she just wanted to hear them laugh again.

She'd make a fool of herself, if she had to.

She'd never felt so..ravenous for such a thing, but just the briefest glimpse was addictive.

She simply couldn't help herself from striding across the room and clasping their free hand in her own, her smile wide enough to unnerve as she leaned her weight onto the bed. For a moment, she considered pulling away at the way they startled, but her mind was made up by then – there was no going back.

"Again."

[supernowa-art]

real footage of sanji having both a sexuality AND gender identity crisis on wano

[winchestermylove]

my favorite thing ever is if sam and dean somehow get through their entire lives without crossing the line into sexual acts, until they move into the bunker.

like maybe sometime from s11-s14, they've been toxic codependent freaks since childhood but they haven't kissed, fucked, or done much else beyond a slightly-longer-than-normal hug after a near death experience.

but one night they're in the dean cave watching reruns of some show from when they were kids, both slightly tipsier than they'd like to be.

sam of course being the lightweight of the two, gets touchier and cuddlier in the darkness of the room, just the two of them, and all is right with the world.

sam doesn't know what comes over him, but he looks at dean, the light from the tv illuminating his face, and leans in. surprisingly (or not so much), dean follows suit.

their lips press together, ever so lightly, just a graze at first because both of them are still hesitant. but after a second or two, dean takes the leap and fully leans in, reaching up to rest one of his hands at the nape of sam's neck and the other on his hip. sam grips onto deans flannel, fearful that he'll pull away.

it's as if the final puzzle piece is falling into place. dean feels at peace for the first time in over a decade, and sam is overwhelmed with emotion, his eyes welling up as he reluctantly pulls himself away.

"dean," sam chokes out.

"sammy..." dean pulls sam even closer, pressing him up against his front, and brings his right hand up from his neck to push some of sam's bangs out of his eyes.

"i-i'm so sorry, dean-i didn't-"

"sam, sammy, shhh. it's okay, i know. you don't h've to say anything, i know." sam's eyes are shining with unshed tears, and dean notices he's ever-so-slightly shaking, so he pulls him in for a second sweet press of their lips, this one only barely longer than a peck.

"it's just you and me, sammy. we don't have to talk about it."

sam closes his eyes and leans his forehead against dean's, bringing both of his hands from dean's chest to cup his cheeks, "are you sure, de?"

"why didn't we do this sooner?" dean asks as he leans in once again. sammy is dean's everything, the one person that he would choose over everyone and everything. their lives are already fucked up, so why not one more thing to add to the winchester resume?

it's the most natural thing in the world; they already own every other part of each other, so sharing a kiss or two here and there is rightfully the next step.

but of course, it doesn't stop at kissing. sam and dean curl up next to each other on the couch for the rest of the night, and they haven't slept in separate beds since.

[thicc-ray-of-sunshine]

'Cypripedioideae'

-A practical lesson in botany

You tag along with Ford in search of an elusive bit of flora and find yourself in a sticky situation as nature takes you both for the ride of your life.

(it's the obligatory sex pollen fic) inspired specifically by this post from @chunkitakii

You were tired. The arches of your feet had started to ache, making the continuation of your hike rather uncomfortable. If you had known this would have turned into an an all day thing you would have at least worn your comfier boots. You stretched out your legs a little on your next step forward, trying to shake the strain from your poor ankles as you walked.

“Are you quite alright Darling?”

Observant as ever; Ford almost immediately caught on to your discomfort, brows knitting together in concern. You flashed a small smile his way and squeezed his right hand in gratitude.

“Yeah. Just a little tired, my feet are starting to hurt. Wish I wore my other boots.”

A small pout appeared on your face at the mention of your footwear that caused a soft chuckle to escape from Ford's lips.

“Yes they would have been more appropriate. Although I had not expected our outing to take this long so the fault is mine.”

His tone was measured and his apology sincere as he offered his hand back to yours to hold. You graciously accepted, bouncing up on your toes to peck his cheek affectionately. You could see the faint pink hue that rose to the apples of his cheeks and tickled the tips of his ears as he interlaced his fingers with yours. He really was too easy to fluster despite being so unruffled elsewhere.

His pace slowed substantially so he could comfortably walk with you. It was not completely uncommon for him to always be slightly ahead of you, his long legs making his strides a fair bit wider than your own. Typically though he liked to be next to you like he was now, being able to see you put his mind at ease when you were out in the woods like this. He liked being able to know exactly where you were in case if any danger were to arise. This was also the reason he chose to have you on his right; leaving his dominant hand free to be able to protect you from any potential threats that came your way. This way he could also still have a free hand for note taking while also being able to be as close to you as he pleased.

From what he had described to you what you were searching for was some type of slipper orchid. He had heard of it in passing from when he was dealing with some gnomes a short while back. Apparently it was something that generally they avoided so it was described to him as a precaution but when he pressed for answers he was met with a strong resistance. So of course here he was, scouting it out and putting his inquisitive nature to the test; ever so eager to find out just what made this flagrant piece of flora so off-putting.

It was odd you realized, to be chasing after a flower in the middle of fall. It wasn't typically the time for such a plant to be alive, forget actively blooming but you guess that was just another reason Ford was so enchanted. Although even if you didn't find it today it was still worth the trip. You always loved going on adventures with Ford, absolutely reveling in seeing him completely in his element. Big amber colored eyes focused and poised yet not at all hiding the excitement thrumming through his veins at the thought of discovering something new.

He was nothing if not analytical in his approach, left hand always alternating between holding his chin in thought and jotting down his findings and anything else he deemed important. Your favorite part was when he'd sketch things; every stroke of his pencil was thoughtful, almost reverent as he portrayed everything as accurately as he could. Sure science was his forte but truly he had a clear calling for art as well and you told him so often.

You were taken out of your reverie and your fond thoughts of Ford rather abruptly, Ford having put his left arm out in front of you to stop you. You observed quietly, waiting for him to explain the hold up. Silently he gestured to the leaf covered ground, towards the very edge of a small clearing in the trees. There you could see it, or at least what you assumed he was looking for. It's not like there were any other flowers around at the moment, forget orchids. You let him corral you closer so you could both get a better look at it. As soon as you got within a couple feet from it he did exactly what you expected him to do. He had a scientific process for cataloging his findings that he followed to a T.

He started by circling the plant, keeping a safe distance from it since he was still unaware of what in particular made it so dangerous. He meticulously viewed it from all angles, pausing to write in his field journal every few moments. You were more than content to watch the process, finding a fallen log not to far from where Ford was crouched to sit on. You patted the spot on the log next to you when he circled back around the plant again. He smiled at you, knowing how much you liked to watch him sketch.

“Come sit with me. I've got a good angle from here.”

Your voice was sweet as you beckoned him to your side, which he followed wordlessly. He was not even a little bit shocked that you had, in fact, captured the orchid at its best angle since you did always have an eye for such things. Just another thing he adored about you he mused as he got to work.

You huddled closer to him; the heat radiating off of his body too sweet of a temptation as your own began to feel the effects of the cooling temperature. He merely hummed in response as you laid your head on his shoulder, watching the quick scratches of his pencil against the paper as he brought the flower to life on the page. It really was masterful how he so elegantly captured the petals so delicately. It was a very pretty flower, odd in a way but nonetheless beautiful. There were three large petals protruding from a circular base; one large fan-like petal at the top of the flower and two smaller slender petals that curved outwards from the pistil. There was a large sac adjacent structure just below it, which from what you knew of this particular family of orchids was the ‘slipper’ and where they got their name from.

As Ford drew he told you about what he knew about it already through some preliminary research.

“It's a member of the ‘orchidaceae’ species, better known as ‘orchid’ which can be found in essentially every habitat with the exception of glaciers. Which is obvious.”

He paused for a moment to erase something before continuing both in his sketching and his lecture.

“I suspect that this is a member of the subfamily of ‘cypripedioideae.’ They're more commonly known as ‘slipper orchids’ or ‘lady’s slippers’ which you already know.”

Pointing his pencil in the direction of the orchid, he gestured to the ‘slipper’ part of it.

“That. Is the labellum. It's one of three types of petals on an orchid. The other two are the dorsal petal, which is the one protruding from the top of the orchid and then the lateral petals which are the ones coming out the sides.”

He continued to point out each individual part of the flower as he drew it. Labeling each part and creating a hyper realistic diagram for himself while you nodded along, smiling at the sound of his voice.

“The labellum is interesting because it serves as a sort of trap for local pollinators in a similar fashion to pitcher plants, the ‘Nepenthes gracilis.”

Your eyebrows raised at this; you never heard of a carnivorous orchid before.

“I thought those were carnivorous. You're not gonna tell me this flower has a taste for flesh now are you?”

He laughed at that, turning his head a bit to catch your eyes, filled with mirth as you leaned closer into his side.

“No Dear cypripedioideae are not a carnivorous species. The labellum is used to trap pollinating insects so that they are forced to climb up the staminode and or stamen so they have no choice but to pollinate.”

You nodded again thoughtfully at his explanation, filing it away in your brain for later when you would both inevitably talk about it at home. Maybe next time you should bring your own little notepad to take notes in, you'd bet Ford would love that.

Now it was time for the final part of his dutiful process; collecting samples. Very regrettably, he pulled away from you to stand once more; moving closer to the orchid. He was still incredibly cautious, the gnomes warnings staying in the forefront of his mind despite his excitement. Safety first.

He reached in and pulled out a pair of his custom six fingered gloves from his messenger bag along with a small knife and a small glass container. Again, with caution, he inched closer. Very delicately he selected one of the pistils and sliced it off. With great care it was placed into the small glass jar before he secured the lid and put everything back into his bag.

All was well when he moved to stand. That was until his jacket got caught on a piece of deadwood by his knee and had him careening forwards and onto the ground below with a loud ‘oof.’ Unfortunately for him you were nowhere near close enough to save him from either his fall or the accompanying embarrassment.

A healthy amount of panic arose in Ford as he opened his eyes and came face to stamen with the orchid he had tried incredibly hard not to touch. His body reacted instinctively; leaping backwards and away from the potential danger and landing square on his ass. You had already made your way over to him, kneeling over him before he could say anything about contamination procedures and potential risks.

“Oh my gosh! Ford are you okay?”

Your voice was riddled with concern as you helped him up. As soon as he was standing you had his face in your hands, squishing his cheeks a little as you turned his face side to side, assessing the damage. He felt your thumb swipe over his cheekbone briefly as you tilted his head to one side before releasing him from your grasp.

“Nothing but dirt and a very handsome face. I'm very glad nothing happened to it Can't say the same for your ass though.”

Ford rolled his eyes at you when you snickered; attempting to feign annoyance and failing miserably, feeling a blush rise to his cheeks. His eyes locked back onto the orchid for a moment, squinting; searching for any obvious signs that he had put you or himself in danger by making physical contact with it. Using two fingers, he brought his left hand to the wrist of his right to take his own pulse; it was normal. He repeated the process and did the same for you, earning the same results. You let him fuss over you for a moment as he gave you a very clinical once over.

Finding nothing out of the ordinary he deemed both of you okay. It was high time you had both returned to the shack, having spent several hours too many trying to find such an elusive plant. Any further medical examinations would need to be done in the lab anyway.

“Maybe it's just something that effects the gnomes? They have similar bodily functions as humans but maybe the potential effects are more potent due to the reduced size. I'm not sure I'll have to-”

Ford's lower abdomen lurched painfullly, forcing his body to double over abruptly. You shouted his name and he could barely hear you, his pulse loud in his ears and beating erratically. Everything was numb as you coaxed him to look at you, trying to blink away the sudden blurriness in his vision. When his eyes finally focused he could see your lips move but he still barely hear you over the buzzing in his skull. This was very bad.

His thoughts began to race; what possibly could trigger such a reaction? He feared the worst and that he had inadvertently poisoned himself; but if it was deadly why didn't the gnomes just say that? It didn't make sense, there was no reason to -.

Just as abruptly as it began, it stopped. The painful cramping of his body has completely dissipated and he could see and hear as normally as he could about two minutes prior. Your hand smoothed up and down his back comfortingly, displacing the fabric of his trademark coat a bit.

“C’mon baby let's get you back to the house.”

You cooed gently at him, slowly helping him stand again as you began ushering him back in the direction from which you came. In no time you were both walking rather briskly in effort to get back to the lab as soon as possible so you could really make sure Ford was okay.

As you were walking Ford noticed that your lips were red and irritated, nervously biting them raw out of worry and anxiety. Vaguely he felt bad which was weird because typically he would feel awful about it. Before he could delved to deep into it the answer hit him when his whole body suddenly tensed and then subsequently relaxed.

His brilliant mind came to a grinding halt, putting the pieces together as he subconsciously inched closer to you. He let out another gasping breath as he ripped himself away from your side. He was left a stumbling mess ahead of you as his brain was bombarded by a single clearcut message; he needed to fuck you.

“I-it’s an aphrodisiac!”

He blurted it out in a harsh breath, holding his arm out and signalling you to stay where you were. He couldn't have you touching him like this, no matter how much his body screamed that you should.

He watched as your face turned several shades of red at his words and he found it irresistibly attractive. No. He couldn't think like that, he could handle this. You both just needed to get back to the shack and to his lab where you could sort this out

“W-we need to get back to the lab as soon as possible. You cannot touch me, I don't want to aggregate this stuff more than I already have. I would like you to walk ahead of me so I can still ensure your safety but please be sure to be several steps ahead.”

Physically he struggled to get the words out of his mouth, his speech already starting to stutter and slur at the edges. It made you worry immensely for his safety, even more so now that you couldn't see him while you were walking.

Once you had turned back to check on him, finding his face flushed a brilliant shade of red and panting hard. A singular bead of sweat had rolled down his face from where it gathered at his hairline. You watched as it dropped from his strong chin to the forest floor below.

“Don't - don't look at me I can't-”

His voice was strained and he found himself unable to finish his though as he was wracked with images of your wanting eyes staring at him from a very different position; beneath him as he pulled you apart by the seams. He couldn't have you looking at him, especially not like that. He knew you didn't mean to but it didn't detract from the clear desire that was written there. It was only logical you would react that way; he was physically aroused, so of course a baser part of you would find it attractive behind the worry you felt for his condition. A condition that worsened astronomically as he felt another wave of pain pass through his abdomen near his stomach. A wheezing sound left him and he physically fell to his knees, leaves crunching loudly beneath his weight. You were at his side in seconds, completely forgetting or choosing to disregard his warnings to not touch him. He closed his eyes, willing the thoughts of ravishing you on the forest floor away as you put a hand on his shoulder. He couldn't. He didn't want to hurt you.

Neither of you had any time to react as Ford's body moved for him, tackling you to the ground from your kneeling position to kiss you hard on the mouth. His body snaked around yours, body pinning you and arms coiling around you in an almost suffocating grip.

“I don't wan’t-. We need to - I need.”

His thoughts and words were a jumbled mess, coming out choppy and fragmented between kisses at your jaw. His eyebrows pinched and he looked pained before he rutted deeply against your hips, jaw slacking in pleasure and letting out a salacious moan that stole the breath from your lungs. His eyes snapped open, the spike of pleasure clarifying in some way as he leapt off of you, suddenly aware of himself and his body. You watched bewildered, sitting up from your place on the ground as he staggered away. You quickly followed, not willing to let him out of your sight. He braced himself on a nearby tree, folding his right arm in front of him to pillow his head there.

“Stanford?”

Your voice was apprehensive, unsure of the situation and maybe feeling a little out of your depth.

“I don't want to hurt you.”

His voice was a whimper, cracking around the edges as he desperately tried to fight off the feelings of immense arousal that clawed at his gut. He knew that he would need to take care of this. Before it got dark, before a trek back to the shack would be impossible, before his body would-.

All his thoughts were cut off as you took your chin in your hands again and kissed him rather fiercely.

“You're the one in pain right now so let's fix that first okay?.”

Without another second to consider; you were underneath him again. He had forcefully pinned you to the tree he was against and promptly shoved his tongue down your throat. It was clumsy and overzealous. The usual finesse and meticulousness he kissed you with was replaced by an animal desperation and hunger, his fingers digging into your waist somewhat uncomfortably. A groan left his throat when you languidly slid your tongue against his, reciprocating his feverish kisses in kind.

Ford was gasping for breath when he broke away, breathing haggardly and chest heaving. He continued his kisses down the side of your face and across your jaw to your ear, whining when the fabric of your sweater stopped him from getting to the skin of your neck. Rather roughly, he used his hand to shove the fabric downwards to reveal your neck to him and promptly latched his mouth onto the exposed skin. Your squirmed helplessly as he mouthed at your throat, moaning as he pinpointed where you were most sensitive and sucked a dark mark into the skin there. He buried his nose into your neck, glasses cutting into your skin as he began a slow grind against you. His arms curling around you on more, guiding your hips to move against him.

His mind was spinning, doing somersaults and getting caught in a positive feedback loop as you moaned out his name breathlessly. The neurons in his brain fizzing and popping as pleasure zipped down his spine, urging his body to seek out more. Without asking for permission and with an embarrassing lack of coordination he tore the sweater off your body, leaving you in the T-shirt you had worn beneath. You were immediately knocked further off kilter as he tugged the material of your shirt up, holding it there and shoving your bra down enough to swirl his tongue around a nipple.

Your hands shot into his hair, clutching the back of his head and scratching your nails into his scalp as he leaves his tongue across the tops of your breasts, very nearly slobbering into your chest with an almost animal insistence. It was like he was trying to take a bite out of you, the way his teeth kept burying themselves into your skin ravenously. Not enough to break the skin but more than enough to leave small indents where his teeth had clamped down onto the flesh there.

Everything about this was so foreign, Ford was always so calculated and relatively gentle when it came to sex. He liked to take his time and ‘enjoy the journey’ so to speak. And sure, it wasn't completely uncommon for him to rough you up a little in the act but this was extreme. You had never even imagined that Ford could get like this, hell you weren't even sure he knew he could. Despite the rather problematic nuances of the whole situation you were still inexplicably turned on. You could feel the slow drip of your obvious arousal eeking out into your underwear; knowing for a fact that you were beyond soaked. Something that Ford seemed to want to know if the shaky hand popping open the button of your jeans was any indication. You could do nothing but hopelessly cling to his broad shoulders as he pressed his dominant hand past the denim and into your panties. A shuddering groan cleaved through his chest at your wetness, his mouth tearing off of a breast in an obscene wet pop.

In spite of the obviously crippling effects the aphrodisiac was having on him he was still trying very hard not to hurt you. His whole body was tense and shaking as he gingerly parted your folds and sank his middle finger into the hilt. He held it there, his body quivering under your hands, trying to find the mental and physical strength to be good to you. Your own body couldn't care less, your self restraint nowhere near his level as you tried to rock yourself onto his hand. You whined pathetically when he completely removed himself.

There was no preamble and nothing that could prepare you as he ripped down your pants and underwear and viciously jammed two of his thick fingers up into your messy cunt. You howled like a wounded animal, digging your fingers into his jacket. Your head whipped back against the trunk of the tree as Ford’s thumb hastily found your clit and circled it vigorously almost to the point of being painful.

“C’mon. C’mon. C’mon.”

Ford was panting haggardly into your ear, broken praises and calls of your name on his lips as he pleaded for you to cum.

“Please please please my darling I need you to cum on my fingers. Please, you're doing so well.”

His voice scratched against the walls of his throat as he spoke, clawing its way out beside the barrage of whimpers and moans; sounding manic and on edge. The bark of the tree scratched roughly at your back as you arched helplessly against Ford's chest, the sensitive skin of your nipples brushing against the knit of his sweater as your breasts jumped with the force of his actions. His hand now positioning in and out of your sopping cunt at a punishing pace as he sucked on the skin of your already bruised neck.

“Stanford!"

You screamed out his name. Your body giving Ford, as well as yourself no other warning as you were blinded by the white hot pleasure singing up your body from where Ford's fingers fucked you. You heard him groan triumphantly, biting into your shoulder as his fingers were replaced by the hot line of his cock spearing into you. Your mouth hung open in a silent scream at the sensation; your body burning at the intrusion and trying to accommodate him through the walls of your vagina convulsing from your violent orgasm. He didn't afford you the time to recover as he pulled all the way out and then slammed home in one subsequent motion. He gathered you into his arms, holding you as close to him as sustainably possible as he pounded ruthlessly into your pussy.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I can’t-”

He sobbed apologetic sympathies into your hair as his body betrayed him and forced him to pile drive into you at a splintering speed.

“Oh god Ford!”

You grasped blindly at his face and neck, trying mindlessly to bring him to you; needing to feel his lips on your own.

“A-h Ford kiss me."

Needing no further prompting; his mouth found and locked with yours witlessly, tongues and teeth clashing together wildly. Ford's lips kneaded yours raw, biting and licking at them whenever you pulled away. Giving you just enough time to suck in another breath before diving back in for more, the frames of his glasses digging into your cheek uncomfortably. His hips never stopped, cock punching up into your cervix at a blinding velocity as you writhed in his arms.

He looked pained as he rocked up into you. He was far more feverish looking than before, a blanket of red coating his cheeks and hair plastered to his forehead from the sweat pouring profusely from his scalp. His brows were pinched tightly together and his mouth twisted into a grimace, looking anguished as he chased his pleasure. Your fingers itched to fix his glasses, which were nearly falling off the bridge of his nose and were continuously knocked around with each cant of his hips into yours.

You twisted in his grip. Unintentionally changing the trajectory of his thrusts, making the fat tip of his cockhead spearhead against a spot inside you that had you seeing stars and your cunt clenching tightly around him. Ford let out a guttural groan, hooking his hands under your knees and hitching you up on his hips as much as the jeans trapped between you would allow. The new angle giving him the ability to hit that same spot over and over again; the thickness of his throbbing length dragging deliciously against the sensitive walls of your drooling cunt.

The sounds your coupling produced were entirely pornographic. The lewd slapping of skin against skin and the cacophony of moans coming from your joining would make it incredibly obvious to any passerby to what exactly was taking place. Thankfully you were far enough out into the woods that you were very certain that no other humans would hear you screaming your lungs out as Stanford fucked the brains right out of your head. The various supernatural entities that lurkred within the woods however would probably not be so lucky.

An unholy sound rattled it's way out of your body as you felt yourself careening towards the edge of your second orgasm, cunt seizing around Ford's penis as he steadily plowed into you. He let out a choked noise, pushing somehow deeper inside of you as your back arched violently off of the tree. Like a crack of thunder, you were thrown headlong into another mind-blowing orgasm. Your face morphed into what could only be described as a rapturous expression. Ford watched hypnotized; your face painted in bliss as your eyes rolled back into your head and your jack went slack to release a long drawn out moan of his name that ended in a little whimper.

A newer wetness gushed around his cock from where he bore into you, making the glide into your waiting sex that much easier at every thrust. His mind was blank as his pace turned sporadic, hilting deep as he came inside of you with a sob of your name.

You blinked back the blur in your vision, keenly observing Ford as he rode out the waves of his own petit mort. His head was thrown back, Adams apple bobbing up and down as he gasped desperately for air as if he was drowning. Which he was; completely drowning in the pheromones as he felt like he might go insane from the euphoria tearing through his body. His hands dug harshly into your legs, another stuttering tortured sob wrenching through him as he realized that his body was not satiated.

“It's not- I'm not- I need more.”

You could hardly make out what Ford was saying through the haze of your orgasm. Only truly understanding when you heard the deafening sound of tearing fabric as pressed your hips came flush with Ford's and his still moving cock.

He has ripped your pants clean in half through the inseam you realized, taking your ruined panties with it. The clear display of brute force hit you in the temples and sent you spinning, even more so when Ford pulled off of you to force you onto the forest floor, clambering on top of you and throwing your useless legs atop his shoulders.

As soon as he was in between your legs again Ford pitched back into your greedy cunt, effectively folding you in half and and fucking his cum back into your still quivering sex. Leaves and small sticks scraped against the exposed skin of your back as your body rocked upwards with the absolutely savage way he was fucking you. He was hunched over you and was rutting into you like a dog in heat, the weight of his body against you giving you no option other than to take it. And take it you did, crying out over and over as he rabidly hammered into you, his balls slapping hard against the meat of your newly exposed ass as your knees dug into your chest. His belt buckle jingled as it smacked against the tender flesh there on every powerful thrust. You knew it was going to bruise, much like the rest of your body when this was all over.

You felt the muscles in your inner thighs burn as Ford mindlessly stretched your legs open further around him, using his left hand to hold you by your right ankle. His eyes were glazed over behind the fogged lenses of his glasses. Completely unfocused as he continued to relentlessly plow into you at breakneck speeds. Shockwaves of pleasure reverberated through your body with each pitch of Ford's hips, the angle at which he penetrated you catching your clit on every backstroke and making your cunt sing. You panted heavily into his face, unable to form words past a slim vocabulary of yeses, pleases and Ford's name. A scream ripped through you as a particularly harsh upstroke, his cock battering against the end of your vaginal canal in a way that was just shy of being too painful. The way you had froze up, cunt clenching harshly around him, had him repeat the motion again and again, chasing the feeling. His forehead dropped down to your collar, mouth blabbering nonsensically against your skin.

“Oh god! My Love - my Darling. Please- oh god I'm so sorry-!”

He was powerless to fight against the whims of his body influenced by the effects of the slipper orchid. He continued heedlessly, pounding into you mercilessly. His mumured apologies falling on deaf ears, you were busy being a moaning, shrieking mess beneath him on the forest floor. Your peak just over the horizon and within your reach. You reached out and grabbed it, cumming in a hellascious manner as you thrashed wantonly in Ford's grip.

The orgasm he tore from you was truly earth shattering; our eyes crossing and rolling away with the rest of your sanity as you clawed at his shoulders and chest. Somehow the pounding became even more aggressive as Ford barrelled towards his own climax. The force of his thrusting actively pushing out and displacing the well of your combined spend inside of you with a wet 'plop' as it spattered across your inner thighs and dripped down your ass. His pace turned frenetic, railing into you sloppily as he cried out.

Ford let out an agonized howl when he finally hit his peak, as if the act itself was painful. His body jerked physically; as if he had stepped on a live wire as he came the hardest he ever had in his life. Wounded cries ripppled through his chest, trying to hang onto the last vestiges of his sanity as he well and truly lost his mind in pleasure. The euphoria and relief he was feeling being far too much for his logical mind to handle.

A sob wracked through his exhausted frame when he finally felt his penis begin to turn flaccid within you. You were both shaking violently, clutching onto each other for dear life as his hips turned to a slow grind. His cock was still pulsing inside of you, his ejaculate spilling deep within your womb as his own body eeked out the last swells of his orgasm until his hips came to a stop.

Neither of you said anything. Choosing to coil your arms around one another as you both found control of your faculties. Ford let your legs drop to your sides, his hands finding a new purpose in smoothing up and down the sides of your body, attempting to soothe and mitigate the cold you probably felt due to his reckless treatment of your pants. And also you. God he felt awful. Guilt twisted into his gut like a knife as the reality of what he had just done set in. He threw his head into your shoulder and sobbed openly, unable to keep the grief he felt from hurting you inside his traitorous body. Your heart twisted painfully in your chest seeing Ford like this. Gently you brought your hands, that were rubbing his back and shoulders comfortingly, up to curl your fingers into his hair.

"Hey. Hey. Shhhhhh it's okay. You're okay.'

You shushed him, cooing gently at him and placing kisses to his hair as he shook like a leaf in your arms. With great care, you pulled his face from your neck to look at him. His eyes were bloodshot from crying and he wouldn't meet your gaze, looking guiltily away at the foliage next to your head. Tenderly, you pulled him towards you to press a soft kiss against the corner of his mouth. Hands caressing his cheekbones as you coaxed him to look at you.

You could see the guilt there, the shame that was written in them as he looked at you and you couldn't stand it so you brought him in for a kiss. He kissed you with fervor; slowly as he poured all of his love and his guilt into one passionate gesture. Praying that you would be able to forgive him for the great transgressions he had made against you and your bruised and battered body. That you would understand that he had no choice in the matter and that he would do anything to win back the trust that he had inevitably broken.

When he pulled back your eyes were soft, admirable in how they looked up at him. How could you look at him like that? Like he hung the stars in the sky even after he violated you; your trust. Greedily he leaned into your grasp, nuzzling the palm against his cheek . Your voice came out in a scratchy whisper against him.

"I'm okay. We're okay."

You said so little yet it was more than enough. Ford felt tears sting the edge of his eyelids as you smiled at him, warm and genuine. You were okay. You didn't hate him. You still loved him. Letting out a heavy sigh of relief he leaned down further and rested his forehead against yours, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug.

He only let go when you pushed at his shoulders, his weight becoming too much to bear on your tired body. Gingerly he pulled out of you, the two of you groaning at the loss. Ford watched enraptured, jaw slacked as a copious amount of his semen seeped out of your sex. Unconsciously he ran his fore and one of his middle fingers through it, gathering the viscous fluid in his digits and pushing it back into you.

The lewdness of it all and the implications of such and action brought the blood to simultaneously drain from your face and cause it to flush furiously. The concept of another round a frightening concept to your weary body. A small whimper seemed to release Ford from whatever sexual spell the pheromones pumping through his system had him in. He physically shook the thoughts of taking you again out of his head, mumbling out an apology before wiping his fingers off on his pants. The feeling now dull enough to resist as he tucked his oversensitive length back into his pants with a hiss; the fabric of his underwear feeling harsh against him.

His cock still somehow had the audacity to jump slightly in his pants as he stood, taking in the sight of you. You looked beyond wrecked; your face was still twinged feverish and your chest heaved with each breath you took, still trying to regulate from the strenuous activity. A chest that was fully uncovered in the golden light of the the evening, the sun not having fully sunk past the horizon.

Your shirt had been pushed all the way up past your sternum to fully expose your breasts, discarded bra trapped around your waist. There were hickies and bites everywhere; bruises blooming against the flesh of your neck and chest. Some were darker than others and some were clearly discernable as fingerprints. There were also the clear indications of where he had carelessly bit at you, the worst of it being at the hollow of your throat from where it met your collar just below your shoulder. The skin there shown a dark purple, almost black in certain spots, and right next to it an almost perfect indent of his teeth. He shuddered, a baser part of him extremely pleased at leaving you so disheveled. Male ego sated.

He tutted at the state of your jeans, denim hanging loose above your knees and in two different pieces. Everything ached as he knelt next to you, helping you sit up and righting your remaining clothing. Your panties were trashed, having been another casualty in the throes of passion and unhinged lust. Scanning the ground around the clearing he found your sweater that had been thoughtlessly tossed to the ground earlier and pulled it down over your head before you could start to shiver. He pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead as he smoothed down your hair, brushing out the small pieces of foliage that clung to it and most likely checking for any signs of a concussion.

You hummed contentedly at the contact, enjoying being pampered so thoroughly while your brain was still a gooey pile of mush. With much care, Ford hauled you to your feet; where your poor sore legs wobbled and ultimately failed you, forcing you to look to Ford for aid. Tired brown eyes met yours as you smiled dopily at him, your hands finding his face again and kissing him leisurely. He took the time to hook an arm under yours to support you and sighed against your lips.

"Let's go home dear."

[beatcroc]

pest control.

bonus:

*UPDATE: i made a sequel

[blind-band-geek]

Pov your rockstar boyfriend cheats on you again

———

I saw someone do this with dungeon meshi and I cried laughing the original is by @/wombrion!!!!

[lazycranberrydoodles]

fuck it!!! mxtxtober day 1: chibi/animal

follow for more art <3