#instead of sweats

[attackmodea]

JAMMER!!!!

I love him so much <3

And I really really reeeeeeeaaaaaaally hope he can still play basketball now that he’s a wingy boy (permanently!)

[sunderwight]

Scenario where cumplane become friends before the Abyss, and Luo Binghe determines that actually, Shang Qinghua is potentially his biggest romantic rival.

Not because Shang Qinghua is particularly seductive, and not even because of their friendship, but because Shang Qinghua actually seems to be fluent in Shen Qingqiu's weird and at times contradictory signals.

Liu Qingge and Yue Qingyuan can yearn and pine all they want, but they can't even convey romantic interest in a format Shen Qingqiu can or will recognize, so at the end of the day they're making all of these overtures and Shen Qingqiu is just like oh what nice friends :) about it. There's way less risk of him ever accepting their suits when he can't recognize them as such, and when neither of the other guys even realize he can't recognize them as such!

But Shang Qinghua...

Shang Qinghua knows that Shen Qingqiu is unaware, too. And he knows how to make him aware. He knows how to parse Shen Qingqiu's odd double-speak and mixed signals maybe even better than Luo Binghe himself. Plus he can anticipate what things Shen Qingqiu is liable to react strangely or inconsistently towards, when again, even Binghe struggles to do that sometimes!

If Shang Qinghua ever made a move on Shen Qingqiu, he would be able to convey his intentions clearly. And before Binghe has the social standing to actually present himself as a viable alternative, he wouldn't even be able to argue against the match! It would be totally dependent on whether or not Shen Qingqiu was interested, and Luo Binghe cannot say with confidence that he actually wouldn't be? Shang Qinghua may be the weakest and least dashing of the peak lords, but he's not bad looking. He even has certain traits which Luo Binghe himself shares, traits Binghe's deliberately tried to emphasize because he knows Shizun responds to them, like being pathetic, and clingy, and clumsy, and having big eyes and curls in his hair and doing important work that helps make Shen Qingqiu's life more comfortable...!

Luo Binghe starts spying on Shang Qinghua. He is going to get dirt on him, and he is going to blackmail him into swearing that he will never ever attempt to court Shen Qingqiu! At least not until after Binghe has reached his majority and can fairly compete with him for his master's affections!

Of course, this is how Luo Binghe discovers that Shang Qinghua is a spy for Mobei Jun, and is plotting to assist in an attack on the Immortal Alliance Conference.

A revelation which accidentally creates such an untenable situation that the plot shifts irrevocably. All Shen Qingqiu knows about it is that out of nowhere the System has offered to remove the Endless Abyss mandatory plot point but only if Shen Qingqiu agrees to purchase something it's calling The Espionage Path...?

[artkaninchenbau]

People keep on asking for more Baby Robin and Papadile so here is more Baby Robin and Papadile. Now never ask anything from me ever again

[two-wizards-in-a-trench-coat]

cover for a Franziska + Miles Zines that i might actually finish one day if i can get it to be more than a draft

[annmariethrush]

I keep seeing suggestions for Lestat on hot ones and fortunately there are lots of different fun versions of this.

Option 1: Lestat on hot ones in show where they give Sam the same mild sauce the whole time in increasingly frightening colors and everyone gets really confused and impressed that Lestat is so “inhuman” as to not be affected and he’s just like “yeah babe, I keep telling you, I’m a vampire”

Option 2: Lestat on hot ones in show where he cries and sweats blood as he gets through hotter ones to everyone’s terror and Lestat starts threatening Sean or asking how he thinks it would pair with human blood or something equally funny and insane

Option 3: Sam goes on hot ones for promo AS Lestat where he has the normal hot ones set but has to try and keep his shit together and keep up a French Accent and cunty laid back attitude as he suffers through the wings and answers questions.

Regardless, it seems hard to go wrong. AMC, I beg you.

[tsuchinokoroyale]

When the spot got a sauna that doesn’t work 🔥

[httpiastri]

paul aron in an f1 car !!!

[popcornkwantum]

:D I love Nicky so much

I'll be making these into (handmade) stickers and will be giving them out for FREE at both the upcoming Elfia event and at Heroes Dutch Comic Con (summer edition)

I actually don't think anyone from the Netherlands follows me on here but uuuhh if you do plan on going to one/both events, keep an eye out for someone in a badly made Taylor cosplay and you will be granted with one of these bad bois >:)

[usercelestial]

Eddie tosses his head back and moans, "Jesus, Buck!"

"Buck, oh my god, that's so good." Josh licks his fingers clean, tongue chasing sweetness as it drips down his palm.

Tommy can only groan in agreement, mouth and throat full. He swallows and gasps, "Evan, sweetheart, you're a fucking miracle."

"Okay, I get it, the cakes I made are good, can you please all get naked?"

Buck is trying to have a fucking orgy here and his partners are being wildly unhelpful. They're too busy shoveling Buck's desserts down their throats to appreciate how hot he looks right now. He's standing in Eddie and Josh's living room, pants half unbuttoned so his bright pink underwear is peaking through, shirt completely off. He's standing tits out and there's no one marveling or gawking at him. He’s never been more offended. 

Well, they're marveling and gawking but all of their attention is on the food.

His fiance, his best friend, and his best friend's boyfriend (Should he just call them his two boyfriends? He tries not to get hung up on the details) are hunched over the kitchen island.

"In a second, baby, it's just your food is delicious,” Josh reassures him.

Normally, the praise would go straight to Buck's head, making him fuzzy and soft and delicate. Needy, is typically the word they all described him as, but never as a bad thing. It’s always said with hands roaming his body and hot breath in his ear. Except, right now, there aren’t any hands on his body. No, all three pairs of them are too busy picking apart his cakes. 

And listen, Buck loves feeding his partners. It's a part of what makes this so good. The domesticity of it all. Buck gets to make good, nutritious food for his fiance and his two kind-of-sort-of boyfriends. He gets to feed them after they're all spent and searching for another hole to fill.

He keeps them warm and sated. It makes Buck feel weirdly powerful. But right now, he doesn't feel powerful. He feels stupid and ridiculous and ignored. Which only serves to make him feel even more stupid.

He's standing shirtless in the middle of the living room, and he's starting to shiver. Maybe he should find something to cover up with, but that would mean searching for his shirt and wouldn't that be mortifying. So he bounces his foot and feels the goosebumps cascade down his arms.

"Is this a recipe Bobby gave you?" Eddie asks, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Uh, no, it's just something I've been trying out." Buck can't help the way his voice breaks a little with frustration.

"Mhm, how did I not notice you were making these?" Tommy asks. Seems like maybe you don't notice a lot of things, then, Buck snarks in his head. He knows that's not true, though. The real reason Tommy didn't notice is because Buck didn't want him to. He wanted the desserts to be a surprise so while Tommy was working on the truck in their garage, Buck set to work in the kitchen. He had them baked and wrapped up before Tommy could actually see what they were.

"You were in the garage." Buck mumbles and crosses his arms, feeling petulant. He almost wants to stomp his foot about it but he would never beat the brat allegations that way.

Tommy hums in acknowledgement and tears his eyes away from the platter in front of him enough to get a good look at Buck. "Evan..." he drawls, extending the word, "is someone not getting enough attention?"

Josh and Eddie snap out of their food daze and look towards Buck. "Aw, poor baby," Josh laughs.

Tommy starts towards him but Josh puts a hand out, "Hm, no, no, use your words, Buck." He looks at Tommy, “You spoil him.” 

Tommy frowns. “It’s my job to spoil him,” he says quietly. 

Buck rolls his eyes and sighs, “F-fine, can you please pay more attention to me? I look so hot right now.” 

Tommy pouts at Josh, who completely ignores him and considers Buck. He turns to Eddie, “What do you think, dear? I think he’s being far too bratty when we’ve all been standing here, praising him the whole time.” 

Eddie lets the words settle. He looks at Buck with dilated pupils, then back to the food with equally dilated pupils, then he nods, “If he keeps making these cakes, he can be as bratty as he wants.” 

Josh lets out an exasperated sigh but can’t hide the fondness in his voice, “Alright, then.” 

Tommy is over to him in record time, wrapping him up in his arms and kissing his cheeks in loud, wet smacks. “I’m so sorry you felt ignored, baby.” 

Buck giggles and places his hands up around Tommy’s neck, “Don’t let it happen again.” 

He feels another kiss to his cheek and turns to Eddie, who’s got puffy cheeks and a dopey grin, “Sorry, man. In our defense, your cakes are really good. You shoulda been a baker or something.” 

Now that he’s got hands and eyes on him, the praise makes him feel warm and gooey, rather than cold and disjointed. He traces his fingertips along the back of Tommy’s hairline, humming and leaning in for a few more kisses. Tommy indulges and bites his bottom lip before leaning back. “Sorry about this, by the way,” he mutters before going back in to peck his lips again. 

Buck doesn’t have time to be confused before he’s sent into a fit of laughter and a spasm as two sets of hands come down and tickle at his sides. “AGH! YOU BASTARDS!” He half shouts, half laughs as Eddie and Josh drag him down onto the couch. He ends up back flat with Tommy hovering over him and lifting up his shirt. 

“Do you feel paid attention to, Buckley?” Josh asks, wrestling with his arm for access to his side as Buck tries half-heartedly to fight back. 

He nods, “Yes! I surrender!” 

“No, no, we’re paying attention now, Buck.” Eddie blows air into his ear before planting another kiss to his cheek. 

Tommy blows a raspberry onto his belly, making Buck scream-laugh. 

Eventually, Buck accepts his fate, allowing himself to be tickled, prodded at, and given a wet willy by Eddie. By the time his partners relent, he’s been kissed within an inch of his life. He’s flushed and panting, his hair mussed and his cheeks red. 

“Do you feel loved, Evan Buckley?” Tommy purrs and runs a hand through Buck’s curls. 

You have no idea, Buck thinks, but instead of replying, he just launches forward and kisses him silly.

[ciderjacks]

This always stuck with me for some reason. I wonder what he saw.

[writinganon1]

@cokoweee

Ya’ll ever have a dream so lifelike it feels aggressively real until one thing goes a little too wrong and then you start to realize that maybe you’re in a dream but it’s also too real to convince yourself it’s not real that you can’t wake yourself up? 

TW: panic attack, I say gun, uhhh blood ig? Bishop says a kinda weird thing but that's just him bein him

can I say blood? last time I did it marked me as mature...

-

Her heart thumped against her chest, lactic acid building in her legs as she ran. She tapped furiously at her phone, fingers slipping over the screen as she tried to deploy Sheldon. 

Donnie says “no no no” chimed a pixilated picture of Othello, his finger waving back and forth. 

“What the-” She slammed against a wall, her shoulder crunching against the brick. 

His stupid programming on the poor thing to keep Sheldon at his house. Maybe she could override it? 

No, not enough time. She was just going to have to run and hope for the best. 

Her shoulder screamed in protest as she climbed the ladder in the alley. Scrambling over the side of the building to catch her breath, she tapped at the screen again. 

There had to be something she could do to foil his programming. She wiped at her nose, the cold still not quite gone even after days of bed rest. Bullets flew over the edge of the building, seemingly locking on to her body heat. Throwing herself at the ledge at the last second to force the bullets to crash into the wall she coughed violently, phlegm coating her throat.

Stupid sickness. 

Stupid Othello leaving her with the stupid rabbit farmer.

She pushed herself off the ground, arms struggling under the weight of herself. It was as if every muscle in her body was on fire, each fiber screaming at her to stop. She gulped raising her head over the ledge. Agent Bishop was standing on the adjacent rooftop, his face curled into a sneer, eyes unblinking despite the sun in his eyes. 

He waved at her, fingers waggling in the air as he pulled a small gun from his pocket. Aiming it directly at her chest he grinned, his eyes flickering with something distinctly unhuman. 

She stumbled backward, her feet skidding over the concrete as he seemed to lock onto her. Loose rock dug into her knees as she clambered over the rooftop. 

Away.

All she needed to do was get away. 

She placed a hand over her stomach, feeling the raised bump of the scar, as she moved.

This was…

This was wrong? 

It didn’t happen this way. 

No. She didn’t need to get away, she needed to get out. 

The bullet ripped into her skin, tearing away at muscle, and shattering the bone in her rib.

She screamed, blood pouring from the gaping hole in her chest, as Bishop moved closer. He walked to her side, footsteps clanking against the concrete. 

Clawing at the ground she dragged her body along the roof, rocks digging under her nails. Bishop laughed, his foot trampling her hand, digging it into the ground. She gasped, breathing shallowly as she fought to get loose. 

He grabbed her hair, wrapping it between his fingers and tightening his grip as he pulled her from the floor. 

“Oh, this is wonderful.” He smiled, voice dripping with venom. “Such a pretty little thing I caught this evening. I’ve been dying to chat with you.” He pulled her hair up, forcing her to rise. “I wonder if she’ll do any tricks?” 

She spat in his face, her ears filled with an all-consuming ringing. 

Away. 

She needed to get away. 

It didn’t matter how. She needed to get away. 

He said something else, flaunting some sort of mechanism he had hidden in his shirt. She tried to focus on his words, but her breathing was too shallow, her limbs too shaky, the ringing too loud for her to hear a word. 

She clamped a hand over her chest, a sorry attempt to staunch the flow of blood from the gaping hole in her body. Cursing softly she watched as the red seeped into a slithering pink fleshy mass. 

She stifled a scream as the pink turned an orange maroon, her own blood fueling some sort of monster. 

“Shhhhhhh.” Bishop whispered against her ear, “It’ll be done soon. Just one quick slash and you’ll be out of my hair for good.” 

The mass jumped forward, faster than she could comprehend, her body spasming in pain as she scrambled back.

Was this the Krang she’d heard so much about after she’d left the jail? Weren’t they supposed to be mindless or something? 

It lunged forward again, tentacles lashing toward her face. Bishop shook her in front of him, like a toy for a dog. 

“Kendra?”  

She screamed as he tightened his grip on her, shaking her around like a bag of flour. The world around her turned hazy, her vision blurring in and out. 

She wasn’t going to go out without a fight. 

Throwing her head back she jammed her skull into his chin, breaking the grip he had on her hair. 

She clawed at the ground, a strange silky feeling coating her fingers. Pushing away the softness of what was sure to be Krang, she kicked at the mass as it wiggled unnaturally. 

“KENDRA!” A familiar voice shouted at her, a gentle three-fingered nubby touch against her arm. 

Her eyes flew open, arms flailing to the sides to swat at what was left of the Krang matter, as hands held her back. She gasped, her chest heaving as a sinking feeling hit her gut. Dread splashed over her head like a wave, drowning her, leaving nothing but fear.

Eyes widening she looked next to her for Tello, horrified as darkness encroached on her vision, leaving her staring through a pin hole. Nausea rolled through her stomach as she gasped for air, her chest shuddering to keep up with her breathing. 

It hurt. It hurt so bad. 

“Hey, hey, hey.” He whispered, hand placed against her back. “It’s ok you’re home. You’re with me.” 

She jerked backward. He was loud. So so loud. Even with the ringing in her ears, he was too loud. 

Breaths were punched from her lungs faster than she could finish taking them in. Tears streamed down her face as her eyes blew wide. Her chest tightened, lungs twisting as she shook. 

She’s dying. She has to be dying. There’s no other explanation. 

Dead in her room from a nightmare-induced heart attack,  

Her eyes flickered back and forth over the room, not focusing on anything, just wildly scanning for danger she knew wasn’t there. Willing her arm to move, she let out a chocked warble. 

The room seemed to melt around her. Things blurred together, a fuzzy abstract painting of almost-real-life. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she tightened her muscles. 

Her whole body shook as she tried to take steadying breaths. 

“Did you know softshell turtles only have half a plastron?” 

She was in the middle of dying. 

She most definitely did not need turtle facts right now. 

“Technically a full one, but it’s covered by skin, rendering it effectively useless for plastron purposes.” He shrugs. “Same deal as the shell.” 

She looked at him, confusion breaking through the panic. 

“Makes us really flexible though. Wanna see?” 

He got off the bed, walked to the middle of the room, and bent backward. He smiled upside down at her from the floor and smoothly brought himself back up. 

“Pretty neat huh?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Bet no other turtle you meet could do that.” 

Amusement rippled through her as she watched him demonstrate his stretches and various yoga poses.

“I’ve never met another turtle like you.” She breathed, some of the panic melting away. 

“Precisely! No one can do it like me!” He said, pointing his finger at her triumphantly before his face softened. “ We starting to feel a bit better?” 

She brought her thumb and pointer finger close together. A little 

He nodded. “Am I good to come back up or do you need some space?” 

She patted the bed next to her, inviting him closer. She waited until he was seated comfortably before slumping against his shoulder, exhausted. 

He shifted slightly, reaching for his phone with one hand, the other wrapped around her. He let them sit for a moment, reminding her to breathe every few seconds before Sheldon zipped into the room. 

He whispered something to Othello before zooming out of the room. She watched passively as it happened, her body still not quite connected to her soul. 

Sheldon returned moments later, a bag of ice, a bottle of water, a cookie, and tub of lavender lotion in his little propeller arms. 

Othello took them from him, patted his head, and shooed him away. Taking one of the ice cubes he flattened out her hand and placed it in her palm. 

She jerked slightly at the sensation of cold in her hand, surprised when he placed another in her palm. 

“Focus on the melting.” He said, voice low and gentle. 

The ice filled the lines of her hand and dripped over the sides and down her arm. She shivered as the water pooled in her hand. Othello grabbed the cookie from the pile he had created and broke off half to give to her. 

“Thanks?”

He watched her carefully. “What does it taste like?” 

“A cookie?” She said through a mouthful, her hands still full of TV static. 

“I need details.” He pressed. 

She paused, taking a moment to consider the flavors in her mouth. “Vanilla, chocolate chips.” She took another bite. “ Like I left it in the oven a minute or two too long and overcooked them just slightly.” 

She’d have to make another batch, this time keeping an eye on the time. 

He pressed an uncapped water bottle into her hand. “Drink.” 

She pressed the bottle to her lips, feeling the way the cold blossomed against her skin as she held it there. Quietly observing the way she could feel it go down her throat and into her stomach. 

“Are we feeling more alive?” 

She nodded, running her hand along her thigh to feel the fabric of her pajama pants as she pressed her head against his side. 

“Good.” He murmured, sleep creeping into his voice. “You had a panic attack I’m pretty sure.” 

“...Sorry it was for something stupid.” 

“I get worked up over stupid stuff too.” He mumbled, eyes half closed. 

“Your stuff isn’t stupid.” She countered. 

“Then neither is yours.” 

She stopped, lifting her head to look up at him.

He grabbed her hand, flexing the fingers for her. “You feel ok?” 

“I don’t know.” She answered honestly. 

He nodded and guided her to a lying position. “Tell me five of your favorite things.” 

She paused, looking around the room. “Hmmmmm. You.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Mhm. Uhhh, lavender. The color purple. Satin jackets. Baking. Messing around in the lab. Oh, I guess that’s more than five.” 

He tapped her shoulders rhythmically, “You can keep going if you need to.” 

She took in a deep breath. “I think I’m ok now.” 

“Positive?” 

Nodding she pulled the blankets over herself. What she really needed was rest. She was so exhausted from the whole ordeal that the idea of doing anything else felt impossible. 

He got off the bed again, searching beneath the bedframe for something before he pulled a large purple blanket from under the bed. She blinked in surprise as he placed it over her, a weight holding her down to the bed. 

“I should’ve mentioned it was weighted.” 

She pulled her hand out to give a quick thumbs up as he climbed back into bed. She shifted to hold out her arm for a hug. He smiled and pulled her close, wrapping his arm around her waist. 

“You smell like you’ve been using my soap.” She grumbled against his plastron. 

He shrugged. “ I like the way you smell.” 

Rolling her eyes she tugged the blanket higher over her shoulders smiling as soft chirping filled the room, the sound he always made right as he fell asleep. 

“Good night Tello.” She whispered.

His plastron vibrated as he churred back, gently running circles through her hair. 

She was home. And she was safe.

~

squad don't write stuff at four AM I'm pretty sure this only makes sense to me at this point. Anyway I was listening to my pretty princess playlist while writing this 💁‍♀️

the reason why this was written is in the tags btw

[schneid-rambles]

PARKER YANG EVERYONE!! This man is like fifty times cooler than Arthur and I wish we knew more about him.

[witchofthesouls]

Wait something funny just occurred to me. In the AU where the kids get cyber formed but remain on the edge of being adults, someone would have had to give them the Cybertonian version of The Sex Talk.

Would it be Ratchet, giving them the strictly medical side of things, or would it be some bot, talking about the experimental/exploring parts?

(I genuinely believe Ratchet would have an aneurysm of some kind at the prospect of it. But let's pretend)

I have to name this verse properly because Tarn isn't here, but it will eventually lead the D.J.D. to Earth. I'll keep the soulmate au tag until I can figure out something.

Ratchet does have an aneurysm because he has set ideas on what is and isn't 'appropriate' from Functionist-held Golden Age Cybertron, but he also carries a lot of guilt from out-surviving almost all his friends, cohorts, and students...

And it's all being dragged into the mud by the Jasper trio, who gives no quarter on crushing his prejudices and fears. Even Raf, his favorite, casually steamrolls over it with the draconian and American mindset of giving no fucks.

Team Prime had harmless thought exercises of what their charges' Cybertronian frames would be like... and none of them were remotely correct!

Because Miko is a Seeker femme, Raf may or may not be a type of Predacon, and Ratchet can't get proper readings on Jack's base-coding, Ratchet sits them all down because they're not sparklings or mechlings with sealed plates but full-framed mecha with total access. He gives them the reproductive talk, especially since Seekers and beastformers go into reproductive heats, but humans don't have that. He's trying to be mindful, and Ratchet is going through the different sexual methods and the variations of parts. Of course, Raf has to interrupt because the draconian mech has two spikes and no receptacle, and he would like to know about any necessary care.

All in all, it's really Ratchet having another fit because his weird humans are now weird Cybertronians of yore/throwbacks. And the ex-humans are taking it rather well, but Jack, Miko, and Raf had literally lifetimes to explore sexuality: as humans, human-hybirds by exploring their heritage as well as alchemical concoctions and very curious lovers.

This, however, did kickstart the path of Ratchet teaching Miko his medical knowledge as she doesn't want the results. She's burning to have the technical skills and knowledge of the processes. Ratchet does pass on his skills to Raf and Jack, but Raf prefers the science as Jack is more fascinated by procuring research material. Miko literally bullzoned her way to become his student. The howling matches they had shook the foundations of the base, but she got her way because she deliberately aimed at his vulnerable parts. ("You'll leave us one day to go back to Cybertron! And you're refusing to tell me how to properly care for myself!?") Ratchet is highly concerned about how voracious Miko's appetite is for that knowledge.

She yearns to become a Tsunade/Unohana terror among them because they have a strong suspicion that if their status is revealed, then they'll become targets. She'll become a Cybertronian Bloodbourne horror if it means she'll never be trapped like what happened to some of her kin.

[chissgender]

Anyway fem Saker

[spicyberry98]

Are there any sweatkink girls that are really into the sweat that pools in the cleavage of a large chest? Because I swear to got I’m riper in there than I am under my armpits at the end of most days.

[skhardwarevers1]

if this post gets like…5000 notes I’ll actually start writing scripts/making storyboards for videos I’ve had ideas about for months

additionally if this gets to 10000 (which I highly doubt it will) I’ll actually work on my abandoned stories, book ideas, and poetry